#and she told me to be like careful while at the gym and if i get too warm or feeling worse to just straight up stop exercising

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + thirty three

authors note: last chapter before shit starts to hit the fan....

cw/tw: fluff and angst

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 16k (diabolical)

“Baby!” The sound of Solana’s voice somehow travels through the space of their massive home and reaches the ears of Roman right as he’s finished yet another bench press. “I’m home!”

Naturally, Dulce, who’d been calmly laying on the padded mat watching him workout, lifts her head. Her ears perk up and her tail wags at hearing the voice of her favorite person in the whole world.

Roman chuckles, taking the towel to wipe off the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Mom’s home.”

Dulce barks in celebration and runs out said room before turning back around, standing in the doorway, clearly waiting for him. She barks again as he wraps the towel around the back of his neck. He’s obviously taking too long. “I’m coming,” is his response. Roman allows his pet to guide him through the turns and hallways of their palatial home until they reach the living room where Solana is walking in while holding a grocery bag.

Naturally, Roman rushes over to her, relieving her of the bag. “I told you I don’t want you lifting on things, Sol.” He places the bag that only has a pack of napkins in it on the counter, seeing security carrying in the rest of the bags. 

“It’s just one bag, Ro,” she defends, crouching down to pet Dulce. Smiling, Solana stands up and walks over to him, leaning up and kissing his cheek. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he responds, hand on her hip. Prepared to ask how she’s feeling, Roman is momentarily distracted in realizing security is still bringing in groceries, their counters and island filled with brown paper bags. “Sol….how much food did you get?”

She looks around and then back at him. “The usual.”

His bushy brow lifts. “This is the usual?” He knows it’s not, solely because he usually goes grocery shopping with her these days and only didn’t today because she’d snuck out their bed early in the morning to do so on her own.

She shrugs. “Okay, maybe….maybe a little more than the usual.” He’d argue it’s a lot more than that. “But, baby, you eat a lot.” One suggestive look, and she’s blushing, slapping his chest. “Stop it.” He chuckles and kisses her temple. She’s so easily flustered sometimes. “I just—I had to get more, because I’m gonna cook you up some meals for while I’m gone.”

Roman sighs. “Sol….”

“I got you some of your favorite snacks, too,” she shares, walking away to start emptying bags. He moves to stand beside her, assisting as she shows him all of his guilty pleasures, the things that make him have to spend a little extra time in the gym. All worth it though.

Solana is loading up the drawer in the fridge with his favorite yogurts she’d also purchased when he pulls something from the bag he was emptying. “Sol….” She turns to look at him, to see the item in his hand. “What is this?”

She gasps, almost happily. “Your new vitamins.”

Naturally, he’s scowling. “Vitamins?” Roman briefly reads the writing on the bottle. One-A-Day for Men. “I don’t take vitamins.”

“Well, you’re gonna start.” She answers so matter-of-factly, closing the fridge door, arms crossed. “I was talking to Dr. Michaels—”

“Since when do you talk to him?”

“We do weekly check-ins,” she shares casually, explaining, “I let him know how you’re doing and if you’re taking your meds, and he lets me know if you’re attending appointments and getting your blood work checked like you should.”

Roman is partially surprised, but he shouldn't be. He shouldn’t be, because he freely sighed an ROI for his wife to communicate with Michaels regarding his care. Something that felt only right in the name of wanting to be more open with her, but right now, it’s seeming like it’s biting him in the ass just a bit.

“And he told me that he’s been trying to get you to take vitamins for years.

“He has.” Roman won’t deny that. It’s the truth. “And for years, I’ve been ignoring his ass.”

Solana frowns. “Well, not anymore.” She announces, walking over to him and pointing to the benefits listed on the packaging. “Dr. Michaels said this is the best brand for you, and it’s only once a day, so you can take it when you take your blood pressure medication.”

Roman scratches his beard, reminding calmly, “Solana, you know I don’t like taking pills.”

“Yes, but I also know that you need to,” she counters, crossing her arms. “Lots of people take vitamins. I take them. Well, now I take my prenatals, but before that, I took a daily supplement.”

“That’s different, Sol.”

“How?” She presses, scowling a bit. “How is it different?”

“You’re pregnant. You have to take that shit,” he answers, placing the bottle back in the bag. “I don’t have to take anything.”

Roman prepares to move to another bag when Solana reaches past him and pulls the bottle right back out. “Roman, you are taking these pills.”

He’s taken back by both the conviction in her voice and the determination written all over her face. “Solana, I don’t want—”

“Roman Tamasa Reigns, I don’t care what you want,” she cuts him off, the Tribal Chief’s eyes widening ever so softly as she uses his full name for the first time ever as well as the quick, rushed, wordy rant she goes on in Spanish before closing her eyes. Solana takes a deep breath, switching back to English and handing him the bottle. “You are taking these vitamins, okay?”

It’s a strange thing. Roman has experienced many sides of his wife. Anxious Solana. Scared Solana. Depressed Solana. 

Suicidal Solana.

But, he can’t say he’s ever seen an angry Solana, and she’s most definitely angry.

It’s why he wordlessly accepts the bottle, not wanting to say anything to further upset her. He just places it on the counter and goes back to emptying bags when he hears it. 

A sniffle.

Turning back to her, Roman is once again taken back. 

Why the fuck is she crying? Wasn’t she just angry with him? What the fuck is even happening right now?

“Baby–” He goes to reach for her to comfort her, though he’s not quite sure just what he’s comforting her for, cause again, why is she even crying right now? “I’m sor—”

“I went to the grocery store, and I got all these—these groceries for you—” She hiccups, motioning around their big kitchen. “And you can’t even do this one thing for me.” She breaks down crying into her hands, and God forgive him, but Roman’s first reaction isn’t to tuck her into him and console her.

His first instinct is what the fuck because she was literally just upset with him, and now she’s crying over some damn vitamins?

The fuck?

Regardless of being confused as all the outdoors, Roman welcomes her into his chest, apologizing, “I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”

“You don’t care,” she cries into him.

“I do care, Solana,” he tries to save face, though not sure just how she became so upset so quickly. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“I’m just trying to help you,” she cries heavier, and as awful as Roman feels about it, he’s having a hard time taking her serious. Roman has held his wife as she cried into him, sobbed into him so violently that her body jolted from the intensity. 

This….this feels different.

It is different.

An overreaction, but that’s uncharacteristic for her personality. Something that doesn’t define her, but it’s absolutely what’s happening right now. Regardless, her crying, overreaction or not, is something he doesn’t like, so he has to make it right.

“I know you are, Sol, and I’m sorry.” She sniffles, coming down a bit. It’s then he offers, “I’ll—I’ll take the vitamins, okay?” Anything to just get her to stop. “Alright?”

She looks up at him, pouting almost. “You promise?”

No. “Yes.” 

More sniffling as he wipes away her tears. “Okay.” More sniffling as she hiccups, “I think—I think I’m gonna go lay down.”

“Yes,” he says it much too quickly, way too eager for her to just go…..calm down or something. “Go take a nap. I’ll finish putting everything away.”

“Okay.” She nods, walking over and picking up Dulce who Roman swears looks just as confused as he feels. “Come on, baby.”

Roman waits until Solana is out of the kitchen and up the stairs before leaning back against the kitchen counter, lost as fuck over what just happened. 

—------

“And then she just started crying.” Roman’s retelling is borderline dramatic as he sits forward on the sofa, legs spread, hand gestures included with his storytelling.

Lita lifts a brow. “Crying?”

“Yes.”

She makes a sound, asking, “so what’d you do?”

“I told her I would take the vitamins, and it seemed to calm her down, then she went for a nap.” Roman slaps his hands on his thighs, leaning back. “But, then I went upstairs a little while later, and she wanted to have sex.”

“Did you?”

“Of course.” An easy answer that’s always the same. “But, I don’t understand how she went from being upset with me, to being sad and crying, to being horny and wanting to fuck.” Roman crosses his arms, a thought crossing his mind. “Maybe it’s her medication. She might need an adjustment.” He looks at Lita, asking, “you think I should talk to Stratus?”

Lita takes a breath, trying to figure out how to word her response for what’s inarguably been her most challenging yet interesting client ever. “Roman, how much do you know about pregnancy? About pregnant women?”

“I know a couple things.” There’s an almost insulting tone to his voice, like he’s confused as to why she would even ask him such a thing. “Why?”

Lita sucks her teeth. “Cause I think it’s time you read up on what pregnancy does to women in all areas. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.” She shrugs, sharing, “what you’re describing is pretty typical for pregnant women sometimes. The hormonal changes that occur often result in mood swings. That’s what that was. She was having a mood swing.”

At that, the Tribal Chief sits forward once more. “You’re telling me that shit was normal?”

Lita chuckles. “Pretty much.”

Roman looks off, like his whole world has been turned upside down. Like he was expecting any other answer than what he’s been given. “Well, when does it stop?”

“When is she due?”

“May,” he answers, a small sense of pride laid underneath his tone. 

Lita senses it but tucks it away for a later time. “Then, May.”

Once more, his eyes are widening. “You mean she’s going to be this way until she gives birth?”

Lita has to hold back her laughter as she takes some more notes while explaining, “nine times out of ten, the mood swings will eventually subside, but I think you’re better served learning how to effectively communicate with her and respond to her when she gets that way versus waiting around for her hormones to level out.” 

“What do you mean?”

Lita sighs. “It’s obvious that you were bothered by the abrupt changes in her mood.”

The sneer on his face is accompanied by a harsh rebuff. “I wasn’t bothered.”

“Then why are we discussing it right now?” Silence. Lita also sits forward, deciding to share some of the man tidbits she’s noticed about Roman in their time working together. “I’ve noticed you are very against saying anything that could be perceived as remotely negative or, God forbid, someone else saying anything remotely negative about your wife.” Lita has a good guess Roman’s response would be physical in the event of that second one. “And I know, a lot of that comes from how protective you are of her. Some of that codependency as well. But, two truths can exist in the same universe where she’s allowed to say or do something that upsets or bothers you and you can bring it to her attention. It doesn’t make you a bad husband.” 

Roman’s gaze and focus is on the wall to the side of him instead of the woman in front of him. “I don’t want to argue with her. She has….trauma with that.”

“And, I understand that, but you also have trauma. Whether you want to admit it or not is fine, I’ll respect that. Wholly. But, part of your struggle is opening up about your feelings with people, which again, I know is not for good reason, though it’s painfully obvious that your wife is a safe person for you, so if you were to open up to someone, it would be her.” More silence. “And discussion doesn’t have to equate an argument.”

When he still says nothing, Lita continues, “and yes, know that you have problems controlling your temper, but I also know that if there’s one person you’d control it with, it’s your wife.”

She'd bet her life on that.

“I don’t want to be put in that position,” Roman finally speaks, voice even but also filled with something almost heavy. “They last time we argued…..” he trails off, a memory returning. “It just wasn’t good. She doesn’t need that stress with her pregnancy.”

Lita looks at him, makes note of his nonverbals, sees that this wall will take a little longer to chip away at. 

“How are you doing with that anyway?” He looks at her, prompting her to clarify. “The pregnancy. You haven’t really touched on it in our past two sessions.”

Roman thinks about her question, considers how he wants to answer and how honest he wants to be. “I think….I think it’s getting….better.”

“Better, how?”

Again, more thinking. “I don’t….I don’t feel as unsure about it.” 

Lita nods slowly, tentatively questioning, “what do you feel?” To cut some of the tension, she gestures with her thumb. “You want the feeling wheel?”

Roman instantly scowls. “I’m not using that damn thing.” Lita chuckles, and though he won’t admit it, he appreciates it. Appreciates her trying to make this a little less uncomfortable. “I don’t….I don’t want to say excited.” And maybe he does, but something holds him back, prevents him from owning that. “But, something….something like that.”

Lita adjusts in her seat, paraphrasing. “The idea of being a father is becoming less abstract and more concrete.” She shrugs, offering, “it’s starting to feel more real, because it is real.”

Lita’s right. Roman won’t verbally acknowledge it, but she’s correct. Every appointment he attends with Solana, every time he opens up the app to see where she is, where the girls are, developmentally speaking, makes it all the more real. 

And while there’s a part of that that’s terrifying as fuck, because he’s still lost on so many things and has so much to learn, there’s still that part of him that doesn’t feel as unsure, like he said. He feels a form of excitement. 

He is excited.

“Yeah,” is all he offers, though something tells him Lita has a good mind where his head is, because despite her being annoying as fuck sometimes with her probing questions that end up landing him right where she wants him, she’s effective. And, they work well together. 

She meets him where he is, and he’s grateful for that.

Doesn’t mean he’s just gonna spill his heart out to her. No. Fuck that. He’ll share as and when he pleases.

“She’s three months, right?”

“Yeah,” Roman answers and starts to leave it at that, but some small part of him, a part he doesn’t quite understand, offers. “Twins….twin girls.”

At that, Lita’s eyes widen. “Well, shit, double trouble? And girls, too?” She scoffs, grabbing her Stanley to take a sip. “Yeah, buddy, you might want to start reading up now.”

Roman scowls. “What do you mean?”

“You’re struggling as it is with your wife’s mood swings while pregnant, just wait till those girls hit puberty and wifey is either pregnant again, so you’re getting it from all ends.”

That sounds like something out of a nightmare, but there’s something else about her wording that he’s focused on.

Almost suspicious, Roman inquires, “did she tell you about all these kids she wants?”

“Wait, what?” Lita’s visible confusion at his question looks and feels authentic, Roman not getting a sense that she’s playing dumb. “You know my policy, I don’t talk to anyone unless you authorize it. Even wifey.” He does recall her saying that, but he also knows he signed an ROI so she could share information with Solana, and since his wife seems to be in cahoots with his doctor, why not the therapist as well? “She wants more kids after this?”

Roman nods, crossing his arms once more. “Three more.”

Lita’s eyes widen. “She wants how many more?”

Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s what I fucking said.”

Lita nods to herself, shrugging, “well….that woman clearly loves you.” She then asks, “what about you?”

“What about me?”

Without skipping a beat, she asks directly, “do you want more kids after this?”

A fair thing to be asked, but something Roman, in true Roman fashion, answers almost indirectly. Sort of. “I think we should be focusing on this pregnancy before talking about more kids.”

“You know that’s not what I asked you, right?” Yes, he absolutely does. If only he cared. “Look….it’s okay for you to not have an answer, but based on what you’ve shared with me in the past regarding your thoughts and feelings on kids, if I had to take a guess, I’d say you’re sca—”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Roman’s interruption cuts deep, his entire disposition almost doing a 180. Like whatever almost lighthearted tone that was there before is gone now. Replaced with something almost cold. “Change the subject. Now.”

And Lita sees this, sees the shifts, knows why said shift happens, but she respects it. Respects him. Respects that he’s not ready to go there just yet. “Okay.” And she does change the subject, asking, “any plans for while the wife is away?”

—-------

“Okay, I labeled everything for you. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snack, and dessert,” Solana’s explanation is accompanied by her holding the refrigerator door open as she points to the generous amount of clear containers. She pulls one out that, sure enough, reads breakfast. “You just have to see which one you want.” She gasps, bumping the door closed as she moves over to the other side of the kitchen. “I should have labeled what each meal is.”

“Solana, it’s fine. I don’t need all that.”

She’s not listening, too busy using the sharpie she grabbed out of the pen holder on the counter to label the container in her hand. “I’ll do it before we leave. I don’t want you accidentally picking something thinking it’s something else.”

“Sol—”

“I also picked up your blood pressure medicine from the pharmacy this morning, cause you were running low, so you should be good with your meds.” She looks up, adding firmly, “and your vitamins.” Roman pushes back his scowl. Those damn vitamins. “And if for some reason, you get through all the meals in the fridge, I have some in the freezer as well.”

“Solana—”

“Dulce should be good with her food, too, but I did pick her up some of those treats she likes, so maybe give her one with her dinner once or twice?” The question is more informative than anything as Solana moves back over to the fridge to grab another container that she doesn’t need to label. “Oh my gosh,” she stops, slapping her forehead. “I forgot to do that last load of laundry for you.” She shakes her head, placing the bowl and pen on the counter. “Let me just go do that right—”

Roman moves quickly, using his arm to block her path, forcing her to finally look at and listen to him. “Solana.” Her attention on him, he doesn’t waste this opportunity to point out the real reason behind her almost frantic-like behavior. “I’ll be fine.”

He sees it. The concern that flashes in her gaze and how her shoulders drop. “I just…..I just want to make sure you’re okay while I’m gone.” Her hands on his chest, the truth continues to make itself known. “I haven’t been away from you since….” She doesn’t say it, but she doesn’t need to.

Since Fetu passed.

Solana has been with him, by his side, supporting and loving him x10 since Fetu passed. 

“I know,” he mutters, reaching up to push some of her hair back, eyes briefly focused on her tattoo. “But, I’ll be fine, Sol. I can take care of myself. I’ve done it for a long time.”

“But, you don’t have to anymore,” she counters, softly. “You have me. I—I can take care of you. I can make sure you’re good.”

“And, I am, Sol. Largely because of you.” He kisses her forehead, reminding, “but you also have to take care of yourself. That’s why I’m letting you go.”

Letting her doesn’t feel like the right word, but in the moment, it’s the best he has. Because he would never want her to feel like she needs his permission to do anything in life. She’s had enough of that shit from men to last her a lifetime, but there is some say he has with her comings and goings due to her being pregnant with their children.

For safety reasons, he has to have a say.

“I know,” she murmurs, moving to hug him. “I’ll only be gone a couple days.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, but a part of him, the selfless part of him hopes it’s longer than that. Solely because of the other plan she has for while she’s in Mexico on her “girls trip.”

Paloma.

She plans to tell Paloma who she really is.

And from that, Roman hopes she gets to spend time with the closest living, remaining connection she has to her mother.

Solana deserves that. 

Especially…..especially if she ends up having to go and/or stay even longer for a different reason.

A very different reason.

“I know.” He’ll play along. Go with what’s needed to make her feel most comfortable. Roman wraps his arms around her, reiterating, “we’ll be fine.” He looks over at Dulce who lays in her bed in the living room—she must have one in every damn room at this point—sleeping peacefully. “She’ll probably sleep the whole damn time anyway.”

Solana giggles into him and slaps his arm. “Stop it.” 

Roman holds her for a couple more minutes before realizing time is not on their side, and they need to get moving. “Come on.” He lightly slaps and squeezes her ass, invoking another giggle. It makes him smile a little. “We gotta be out of here soon.”

At that, she steps away, frowning. “Why do we have to leave again so early? I told the girls to be at the airport around 2”

Roman’s answer is right away, even if it’s something he comes up with on the spot. “I’m not trying to be around your annoying ass friends, Solana.” 

As expected, she rolls her eyes, protesting lightly, “Roman, my friends aren’t annoying, and Bayley, even Melina, are technically family.”

“Don’t remind me,” he mutters, following her as she leads them upstairs.

Solana being Solana absolutely makes sure to start up that last load of laundry. She also goes through at least two more lists of unnecessary things she did for him to “help” him out while she’s gone. And while Roman does consider it unnecessary, he’s appreciative. 

Appreciative of her and all she does for him, all that she is for him. 

“What about this?” Solana asks him as they sit in the back of the SUV, on the way to the airport. It’s a design option for kitchen counters. A beautiful, unique granite.

“It’s nice,” he responds. “But, Sol, you already know I don’t care what goes in the kitchen. It’s whatever you want.”

She looks up at him. “I know, but this house is for us, so your input matters, too, Ro.”

He doesn’t disagree, though there’s certain parts about said house they plan to build that he wouldn’t mind being for just her. Like the kitchen, cause Lord knows he’ll never be in there cooking and baking like she does. “The kitchen is your space though. Now our bedroom, yeah, I want some say.”

A crafty smile forms on her pretty face. “So, you don’t want to paint it pink?”

“Solana, don’t fucking play with me like that,” he mutters, eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose. She giggles and leans further back into him, clearly finding humor in his distress. “It’s bad enough you keep talking about all these damn kids you want.”

“That I’m going to have,” she corrects, like that shit is supposed to make sense. Like he’s supposed to be okay with this plan she has to be pregnant every year or something. 

“Solana.” He has to talk some sense into this girl. Is this another pregnancy thing? He makes a note to ask Lita about it in their next session. “I need you to be serious with me. Do you know how stressful it would be to have five children?”

Massively, insanely stressful, for maybe more reasons than he's willing to currently acknowledge...

She pouts and responds so casually. “It wouldn’t always be stressful.” She turns more to look at him, hand resting comfortably on his abs. “And, if we’re going to have this massive house, we need to fill it up….”

“With furniture,” he supplies. “We can fill it up with furniture. Not a bunch of kids.”

That’s clearly not the answer she wants, as evidenced by the scowl on her face. “I want more kids, Roman.”

“And, I told you we can have one more after the girls, but anything beyond that, Solana—”

“I’m getting my kids, Ro, and that’s final.” Solana not only cutting him off, but doing so with attitude is something the Tribal Chief could have and would never bet on, but that’s exactly what’s happened. His sassy ass wife redirects her attention back to her scrolling on that red app she likes that has a lot of pictures and proceeds like she didn’t just cop an attitude. 

“Solana,” he finds himself saying, sitting up a bit. “You—”

“We’ll talk about it later.” Another interruption. Less sassy. Still an interruption, nonetheless. 

There’s a revolving door of emotions in that moment. At first, he’s annoyed, which is significantly tamer than what he’d feel if this was anyone else speaking to him this way. Roman’s killed for lesser offenses.

Then there’s slight amusement, because his 5’0 wife hitting him with the attitude of someone his height and stature is the last thing anyone would expect. 

Followed up with a slight tightening in his pants, because there’s something undeniably attractive about Solana being assertive. About standing on business. He might not agree with what she’s standing on, but he damn sure respects it. 

And then finally, he arrives at the largest and most lasting emotion. Proud. Roman feels proud of his wife. 

It’s still hard for him to grasp the fact that this is the woman he met all those months ago who could barely withstand more than 30 seconds of eye contact. Who was terrified of him. Terrified of the world that had only been unkind to her.

Now, she sits before him, openly going against him without any sign of anxiety or fear. And while he now knows her pregnancy hormones are playing a large role in the oscillation of her emotions, it doesn’t negate the fact that even before becoming pregnant, the Solana he knew then is not the same Solana he knows now. 

Stronger in every way. A tremendous and beautiful growth. 

Roman finds himself dipping his head to kiss her temple. “I’m proud of you,” he murmurs, finger moving up and down her upper arm. “Extremely fucking proud of you.”

And even that seems not enough to adequately describe it. 

However, the small smile on Roman’s face is wiped away when she looks up at him and asks with a mischievous smile. “Enough to have three more kids?”

“Solana.”

She laughs once more, finding delight in his misery. Roman sighs loudly as his wife leans up and strokes his beard, kissing his cheek, “thank you, mi amor.”

Roman still hasn’t really picked up much of Spanish outside a couple words, but there’s something universal about her statement. 

Love. 

The rest of the drive is relatively quiet, Solana showing Roman a few more photos of ideas she has for the kitchen when they arrive at the airport. Naturally, Roman slides his expensive sunglasses over his eyes and exits the car first so he can open Solana’s door for her.

He holds her hand as she steps out and tugs up those tight ass pants that have him forcing to ignore the recoil of her fat ass with said adjustment. The transition is aided by her confused countenance at the jet that is not the one they took last time. She turns to him with a frown. “You got a new jet?”

“I did,” he confirms, lifting his sunglasses up, setting them atop his head. “But not for me.” Solana’s eyes start to widen as he shares, “it’s for you.” 

Hands planted over her mouth, she looks in shock between himself and the private jet with pink lining, pink steps descended to reveal a glimpse of the interior that also has shades of pink. “Roman, no.”

“I don’t really like the idea of your dumbass friends in my space,” he shares, moving toward her, hands on her waist. “Plus, if I’m away on work, and you decide to fly down to Mexico, you need transportation.”

She scoffs, offering so innocently, “But, I could just book a flight, Ro.”

“That’s not fucking happening.” It’ll be a cold day in hell when Roman ever allows his wife to fly commercial. Absolutely not. 

Solana is still very much in a state of disbelief, but her smile grows wider as she exclaims with all of the shock. “I can’t believe you got me a whole private jet.” Giggles erupt from her as she suddenly throws herself into him, arms wrapped around his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

It’s hard for Roman to not smile, feeling her immense love and appreciation for something that seems so simple to him. Maybe not in price, not that that’s a factor, but just how overtly grateful she is for anything he does for her. 

Her spirit is so pure. 

“You’re welcome,” he mutters, kissing her temple and lightly slapping her ass. Solana is back on the ground, looking up at him with undeniable excitement, when he asks, “you wanna see it?” Light laughter at how she nods rapidly and takes his hand, guiding him toward the jet. 

Roman feels a bit silly feeling relieved almost at how Solana “ooohs” and “awwws” at the interior of her private jet, predominantly pink and white, amenities based upon her and what he knows about her. Roman is good at a lot of things, including reading people in terms of their likes and dislikes. But, there’s always a small part of him that’s unsure of himself when it comes to doing and getting things for his wife. 

A fear of letting her down.

Of disappointing her.

Something he hasn’t felt or worried about in a long time. 

“I love it so much, Roman,” she says after they finish the tour. She’s got her arms back around his neck, that beautiful smile dimming just a bit. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay while I’m gone?”

Roman chuckles. “I’m sure. You need to do this, Sol.”

“I know,” she sighs. Roman soothingly moves his hands up and down her sides. “I just….you know I don’t like being away from you.”

He knows. The same way he doesn’t like being apart from her either, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Your life can’t revolve around me, Solana.” A gentle reminder. Necessary, too, perhaps. 

“But, you’re such a big part of my life,” she replies, voice soft, eyes focused on his shirt as she lightly pulls at the material. “Not being around you feels…..weird….wrong.” 

Roman knows Solana is codependent when it comes to him. The same way he realizes he’s codependent with her as well. But, he’s been reminded of it even more in the past few weeks with how involved she wants him in all the things, which is fine and normal, especially as it pertains to the pregnancy. But, it’s the not knowing what she would do without him that’s starting to have him concerned. 

Especially if the situation arises where she doesn’t have a choice.

He’d mentioned it to Gail, asked her to work with Solana on that, but so much has happened between now and then that he wouldn’t be surprised if they haven’t even gotten to it yet.

A disservice. Understandable, but a disservice, nonetheless. 

“Everything will be fine, Solana.” He kisses her forehead, reminding, “you already know if you need me, just call me, and I’ll be there.”

And there’s the hard part. There are times, like this, where he sees how independent and capable she’s become that he thinks she’ll be okay. Where he thinks she’ll be able to handle a separation, if necessary. But, it’s not consistent, not reliable, and that’s where his biggest issue comes to play.

Then there’s also the role he plays. Roman knows he makes himself always available to her, and in some ways, that’s also his comfort. It…..bothers him to not be available for her if she needs something. 

And if he’s being honest with himself, that largely stems from that night. The night she tried to take her own life. 

The night he wasn’t there, and she needed him.

He won’t risk that again. 

He’s terrified to risk that again.

—---------

It’s a fun time from the minute the ladies all board the jet, to the conversations that transpire, but most definitely when they all arrive to Roman and Solana’s home in Isla Mujeres. Solana considered asking Roman if they could rent something instead, as she knows how much he values their space being their space, but he shocked her by recommending they just stay at the home he purchased for them.

Her guess would be it’s because it’s not their main home, the space only being used every so often. Only once, really, since Solana’s birthday trip back in July.

“This is so nice!” Mickie shouts from the top of the stairs as she and Cameron claim a room. “I love being friends with rich people!”

Solana smiles as Afia shakes her head. “That one is interesting, for sure.”

“Very,” she giggles. One thing Solana was a bit nervous about was inviting Afia, not because she didn’t want her to attend. Hardly. What she was most nervous about was Afia not meshing well with the rest of the ladies who had already met before and vibed well enough. However, that concern was quickly squashed as Solana realized her sister-in-law’s former career of seamlessly blending in just about anywhere is a skill that’s stuck with her.

It didn’t take Afia long to join in with the rest of the gang. So much so that she’ll be sharing a room with Melina. Bayley and Naomi will be rooming together. 

Apparently, no one wanted to share a bed with Solana because, “girl, we know Roman be turning you every way but loose in that bed. We’re good.”

And while her face burned with all of the embarrassment, she couldn’t deny it. That same bed is the same bed her shackles were broken in the most beautiful, memorable manner, and in some ways, she would prefer to keep her space with her husband a space for just them. 

After everyone gets settled into their rooms, there’s almost a universal agreement that the first stop needs to be by the beach. Solana shouldn’t be surprised that arriving at said beach with her friends, via the private entrance from their house, that her husband made arrangements similar to last time to where it’s almost “reserved” just for them.

Something she understands a little bit better this time around. While Roman is not present for this trip, Bautista is, as well as her upped security detail, her husband has obviously setting up parameters to ensure her safety during her stay. For her and for their babies.

Solana feels the most grateful to have such a wonderful, protective man to call her husband.

It’s why she not only has Mickie take some photos of her adorned in her bathing suit, but she also takes some selfies of herself at the beach. Photos that she nervously shares with him, only to receive the most validating and steamy response that makes most sense for her husband. 

Roman: Fuck. 

Roman: You’re making me regret letting your fine ass leave, baby.

Solana: 🙈🙈🙈

Solana: I’ll be home before you know it, papa bear. 🥰

Roman: Not soon enough.

Roman: Send me more photos while you’re there. 

Roman: Can use them for….purposes.

Solana: Roman! 😭

Despite Solana feeling completely flustered at her husband’s dirty intentions for her photos, she absolutely makes a mental note to share any selfies taken during this trip.

And something tells her there’s going to be a fair share. 

“Oh my goodness, are you texting Roman?” Bayley asks, walking over, standing in front of the blanket that Solana is laid on top of. “Tell him to get a fucking life. You’re busy.”

Solana frowns, locking her phone and placing it beside her. “Bayley, be nice.”

She rolls her eyes. “I said I’d try. Shit takes time.”

“Leave her alone,” Mickie pouts, her and Cameron waiting for their sunscreen to set in before entering the beautiful, blue waters. “At least she has a man.”

“I thought you were talking to—”

“Fuck him!” Mickie interrupts Melina, lifting up her middle finger for dramatic effect. “That’s what I get for messing around with someone named Kevin who has a pot belly.”

“Mickie!” Cameron scolds, shaking her head. “That’s not nice. He seemed like a good guy.” 

“Yeah, I thought you liked him,” Solana chimes, remembering their conversations via group chats and group facetimes where Mickie practically raved about the guy she’s been seeing. 

“He was. Too good.” Mickie shrugs, picking at her fingers. “He wanted to settle down eventually.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Afia’s question is posed with pure curiosity versus judgment. A sort of judgment Solana only detects on the face of Naomi who’s been abnormally quiet for the whole conversation. 

Has been quiet since meeting at the airport, now that she thinks about it. 

Mickie leans back on the palm of her hands, answering with a simple, “that’s not what I’m looking for.”

“What are you looking for?” Bayley inquires, coming to sit beside Solana, tiring of standing, the sun beaming down on her back.

“I don’t know.” It’s an honest answer, something almost indecipherable flashing in Mickie’s eyes that Solana is almost sure only she, Cameron, and Melina notice. Treatment. It’s a similar look that Mickie would get when they were in treatment. When she was thinking back on something else. 

Something much darker. 

Solana clears her throat, drawing attention to herself as she suggests, “we should all take a picture together.”

“Hell yeah!” Bayley is standing up yet again, as the rest of the women also express some level of excitement for the photo.

“I’ll take em’,” Naomi offers, standing and brushing some sand off the back of her legs.

Solana frowns. “No, you have to be in them.” Solana is more than ready to ask one of the security guards to come snap photos of them to avoid anyone being left out when Naomi reiterates her offer.

“Naw, it’s fine. I’ll catch some other photos.” She shrugs, her face giving away indifference that doesn’t match who Solana has always known her to be. This doesn’t feel like the Naomi Solana has grown to know, love, and view as a sister.

Stepping forward, voice lowered, she asks, “is everything al—”

“Oh my gosh!” Mickie’s excited voice prevents Solana from penning her question, as the attention of all is redirected to the water where Mickie is pointing. “Was that—was that a dolphin?”

Her own question is answered when a dolphin can, in fact, be seen in the distance leaping in and out of the water. It draws the awes and a set of cell phones as to capture the sight before them, but it’s the way Naomi stands off to the side, texting on her phone instead of photographing, that has Solana wondering. 

What’s going on with her?

—--------

“And that was the last time I ever fucked three men in one week,” Mickie finishes, downing the rest of her beer while chuckling. “That yeast infection afterwards was not worth it.”

A round of groans, Melina being the one to express, “Mickie, literally no one needed to hear that.”

“I second that,” Bayley lifts her beer, still halfway full. “Though we appreciate the…..lesson?”

Afia nods, gracefully drinking some of her mimosa. “Yes, lesson seems like an appropriate euphemism.” 

Mickie blinks exactly three times. “Yeah, I’m too buzzed to even try to figure out what that means.”

Afia laughs a little. “Fair.”

Cameron directs her attention to Solana, lifting up the bottle of wine as she pours herself another glass. “Are you sure you don’t want some, Sol?”

“I’m good,” Solana answers, hoping and praying the change in her tone doesn’t give anything away. For good measure, she offers a true, hopefully believable excuse. “The last time I drank wasn’t…..it wasn’t a good time.”

And, while it’s not a total lie, there’s a part of Solana that’s appreciative of that night. The night that seemed to be a turning point for her relationship with Roman. She still doesn’t recall everything that was shared, on either end, but one thing she knows is that next day was the first time she truly felt like they could make this work.

Make their relationship into a real marriage, and not only have they succeeded with that, they’ve taken it a step further by moving to the next step. 

Children. 

Their love has now resulted into the creation of two beautiful lives. 

Solana has to stop herself from placing her hand on her stomach. It’s something Afia seems to notice as she intentionally draws attention to herself. “It’s probably best we don’t let her drink. You all know how that lovely husband of hers is.” 

A sound of agreement, Bayley muttering, “lovely is one way to put it.”

“Bayley…”

She lifts her hands in a defensive manner. “What? I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” Melina says in a sing-song voice. “Granted, I mean, it’s not like you’re entirely wrong.” As Solana gives her the same look she was giving Bayley, defends, “Solana, come on, I met that man months ago, and he still calls me Mandy.”

“He’s not good with names,” Solana murmurs.

“I don’t think he calls me anything,” Afia wonders aloud only to shrug. “Not that I care but still.” 

“Pretty sure he just calls me bitch.” Bayley shares so nonchalantly.

“I don’t think he even knows our names.” Cameron gestures between herself and Mickie. 

“Okay,” Solana cuts in, sitting up on the sofa. “I know….I know Roman can be a little….rough around the edges, but he does mean well.”

Though Solana can’t deny that she agrees with Cameron. Roman really doesn't know their names. But, that’s neither here nor there. 

“No, he doesn’t.” It’s the introduction of a new voice. Naomi. From where she sits on the love chair, almost separate from the other women who are spread among the living room. “Roman is an asshole. A selfish asshole.” 

There’s a shift in the atmosphere. Something that’s clearly palpable given the shared, almost uncomfortable expressions amongst the group of women. 

Except Naomi.

“Roman isn’t an easy person. I get that,” Solana starts, choosing her words carefully. Mindful of the fact that there’s an audience. “But, he’s still my husband.”

Something flashes across Naomi’s face. “Why can’t he be both?”

Building. There’s something that’s been building ever since the group arrived in Isla Mujeres on yesterday afternoon. Something Solana sensed when they were on the beach, as the went shopping in the markets earlier in the day, as they shared dinner at a local, popular restaurant in the evening. And, it’s reaching a head as they all sit in this space, Naomi growing restless and clearly sitting on something she needs to share.

Something Solana is eager to hear.

“Hey!” Mickie cuts in. She seems to be good at that. “You know what we should do?” Eyes focus on her, clearly eager to de-escalate the tension that’s built up and consumed the room. “That TikTok challenge I was telling ya’ll about.”

At that, Melina scoffs. “Mickie, we’re all too old for that.” 

“Speak for yourself,” she rebuffs. “I’m 25 and will keep turning 25 until I decide I’m ready to be 26.” As she hops off the sofa and starts moving the coffee table, Cameron assisting her, Solana looks back over to see Naomi has gotten up and headed out back by the pool. 

Bayley stands and makes eye contact with her cousin, mouthing, “let me talk to her.”

As she leaves out, Solana finds herself appreciative but also something else.

Annoyed. 

She feels annoyed with Naomi. Not only because of her sour attitude on this trip thus far but her comments about Roman. As she stated, Solana knows Roman is not an easy person to deal with. He can be mean, and he can be an asshole at times. These are all things Naomi and even Bayley have said, joked about in the past, but there was something different about this time.

This time, Solana felt an almost sense of anger coming from the other woman.

Personal. 

It felt personal, and she doesn’t like that. 

She doesn’t like it at all. 

A warm hand on her lap pulls Solana’s focus to Afia. Her sister-in-law motions to the phone beside Solana.

Naturally, she grabs it, unsurprised to see an unread text. 

Afia: Can I offer a bit of advice?

Solana: yes. of course. 

Afia: Be careful with that one. Her energy is…..off. Has been since she stepped foot on the jet. 

Afia: Remember, Solana. Not everyone you call a ‘friend’ is actually your friend.

Solana doesn't reply after that, too busy sitting on Afia’s sage wisdom as well as what just transpired. It’s not something Solana didn't already know. That not everyone who claims to be a friend is actually a friend. 

But, what does one do when it’s a sister?

—-------

“I thought that Mona girl was A.” It’s a frustrated acknowledgement followed by a deep scowl as Roman turns to look at Dulce who sits on the sofa beside him. “Who the fuck is Cece?” A rhetorical question to the Pomeranian who lays her head back down and continues to stare at the screen.

Thoroughly disgusted, Roman scoops more of the popcorn in the bowl in his mouth. He grumbles, “I don’t know how your mom watches this shit.”

Roman doesn’t know just why he’s watching this shit, either. Maybe, in some weird way, it makes him feel close to Solana. Helps distract him from her lack of presence. It’s certainly not because he’s interested in this show where the parents have to be the dumbest people alive and these teenage girls sleep with grown men like shit is normal while some psychotic bitch, or bitches, make their lives a living hell. 

And yet, he’s on his second episode after finding himself needing a break from work and something mind-numbing to dull his stress levels.

This certainly does it, Roman thinks to himself.

Uninterested in yet another person who’s supposedly this ‘A,’ Roman grabs his phone, hitting the lock button on the side. And just like that, his irritation is almost instantly melted away. His lock screen photo snagging his attention and filling him with an almost warm feeling. It’s from one of Solana’s OB-GYN appointments. Dr. Sharmell moving the transducer around Solana's stomach, the doctor and his wife's heads turned, focused on the screens where he can make out two figures. Babies.

His babies.

It’s one of his favorite photos. 

Unlocking his phone, Roman navigates to his camera roll where the most recent photos are made up of his wife. Photos and videos she’s shared with him from her trip. A trip she seems to be enjoying the hell out of based on the smile on her pretty face and the joyful laughter that leaves her in most of the videos. 

Roman’s happy. Happy to know that despite her reservations about leaving, she’s having a good time. She deserves that. She deserves the world. 

He’s about to send her a quick text, just to check in on her when the doorbell ringing pulls his focus.

Roman is instantly scowling. He glances at the time in the corner of the screen. Who the fuck is at his house at damn near 6pm?

Dulce is also intrigued, lifting her head and jumping off the sofa. Little body moving towards the door, she stops and turns around to bark at him.

“Coming,” he grunts, sitting up and grabbing the remote to hit pause. Not that it matters. The show is a shitshow anyway. 

Big body carrying him to the front door, Roman doesn’t bother using the peephole, already knowing his security protocol is to only allow Bloodline members through the gate. 

But, it’s when he opens the door that his frown deepens. 

“What the hell are ya’ll doing here?”

Roman doesn’t receive an answer. He instead receives his cousin Ava, walking past him, in his house, uninvited. “Dulce!”

Dulce barks and excitedly wags her tail as Ava picks her up and starts cuddling her. “You are just the cutest lil thing, oh yes you are.”

Roman doesn’t even have time to process his traitorous dog not barking at these damn intruders, because Dwayne is also walking in, slapping him on his back, lifting the six pack of beers in his other hand.

“Don’t worry, we didn’t come empty handed, brotha.”

However, Roman couldn’t give two shits about that. “I’m trying to figure out why ya’ll are here at all.”

Once more, he is deprived of an answer as Dwayne and Ava descend deeper into the house when another entrant arrives. More than one.

Roman’s eyes widen slightly, as he’s forced to look all the way down to two tiny, almost identical humans looking up at him with almost the same surprised, almost familiar expressions. Like he’s seen them before, but where? 

He turns, thankful to see Dwayne is still in the vicinity. Pointing down, Roman asks, needing answers, “what are these?”

But, it’s not Dwayne who answers. “These are my sons, Roman.” The Tribal Chief turns to see yet another uninvited person standing in his doorway. But, Matteo isn’t alone. He’s holding a little girl who shares the same complexion and eyes as her brother, an almost intense gaze set on him. Matteo kisses the little girl’s temple. “And this is my daughter.”

Matteo suddenly reminds, “I suppose I didn’t get a chance to properly introduce you to them at the restaurant that night.”

It’s only when Matteo says as such that Roman remembers he most definitely has seen and, somewhat, met these children before. 

His biological nephews and niece. 

He won’t say it, would never admit it aloud, but there is a sense of shame that fills him at not remembering, because it feels like something he should have remembered.

Right?

Still trying to process the fact that all these people are at and in his house, along with this possibly problematic forgetting, Roman is only partially paying attention when Matteo transitions to name offering. “That’s Giovanni. We call him Gio. And Nino. He likes being called Nio.” A small smile appears on his face as he looks at the still staring little girl. “And this is Hassana, but we call her Sana.” Way too much information for Roman to process. “Kids, this is your cousin, Roman.” Matteo switches to Italian as both boys, almost in synchronization, offer quiet “hello’s.”

Unsure of just what to do and feeling almost pressured to respond, Roman mutters a low, “hi” and redirects his focus to the man in front of him. “What are you all doing here?”

Because, for the life of him, Roman cannot see any good, valid reason why Dwayne, Ava, Matteo and his three children have randomly popped up at his house this evening.

Matteo frowns. “Solana didn’t tell you?”

At that, Roman’s interest is intensely piqued. “Tell me what?”

“This is nice!”

And just like that, this evening has gone from strange to annoying to what the fuck.

Dulce running towards the door draws the attention of the boys whose eyes light up. “Puppy!”

Except, instead of running in terror like she did when confronted with Jey’s children, Dulce seems to bask in the gentle petting and belly rubs received by the boys. Hassana’s attention is also drawn, as she points to the dog, prompting Matteo to walk them over.

His departure paves the way for the appearance of two more faces.

“Hi there, Tribal Chief.” Sami offers a small, little wave. “Sorry to just pop up uninvited.”

“So, why did you?” Roman’s voice is significantly harsher. His technical, biological family being there is one thing, but it’s another for fucking Sami to be standing at his door. “Why are ya’ll here?”

R-Truth’s eyes widen a bit as he answers honestly, “I just came for the ride.”

Sami chuckles nervously, lifting a container of food. “I had some leftover Kibbeh, and Solana mentioned always wanting to try some, so I figured—”

“She’s not here,” Roman interrupts, going to snatch the container. “I’ll make sure she gets it.”

“Is that a puppy?” R-Truth’s voice is almost childlike as he looks past Roman to see the children still playing with Dulce. “Look at lil Toto!”

“Her name is Dulce,” Roman corrects, but it’s wasted breath, because Truth welcomes himself in Roman’s house, just like everyone else it seems, petting Dulce, asking something about Dorothy.

Whoever the fuck that is.

“Truth, come on, dude,” Sami says, the only one still respecting the Chief’s boundaries by remaining in the doorway. “We’ve gotta—”

“Sami!” Dwayne’s voice is heard again as he walks over, beer in one hand. “What’s up, man? You joining us?”

“No,” Roman answers, quickly. Cause again, what the fuck is going on. “Joining what?”

“The get-together Solana planned.”

Dwayne’s answer aligns with Matteo’s comment about Solana, prompting Roman to pull out his phone, as his older cousin welcomes Sami into the home.

Roman: Solana….what did you do?

Solana: i take it they’ve started arriving 🤭

Roman: Why the fuck are all these people in our house right now, Sol?

Solana: don’t get upset, baby, but i may have arranged a little get-together for you while i’m gone….

Roman: You did WHAT?

Solana: i didn’t want you to be alone the entire time i’m gone, ro! 😭 it’s just one night, baby, and it’s literally only ava, dwayne, and matteo. well, the kids, too, but they’re so sweet and well behaved!

Roman: Solana…

Solana: it’s one night, baby. you can handle one night, ro.

Roman: 20 minutes. They can stay for 20 minutes.

Solana: 😑

Roman: What?

Solana: at least give them an hour, roman, please.

Roman: No.

Solana: roman, please. 😭 for me? Please?

Roman: Fine. An hour.

Solana: thank you, baby. 🥰

Roman: Whatever.

Solana: 😘❤️

—--------

“Roman, baby, calm down. Just take some deep breaths.”

“I am calm.” He is most definitely not calm. Not in the slightest. “Who the fuck do they think they are? I’ll kill all of them!”

“Roman.” Solana sighs, rubbing her temples. Half an hour. It’s been almost a half hour since her husband blew up her phone for the second time tonight, causing her anxiety to spike. She thought something bad had happened at his get-together. That wasn’t the case.

Just not according to him.

The first incident was arguably the most ridiculous thing. Roman was upset, borderline petulant as he ranted about this nice local performer named Joe Hendry who the group of women laughed and interacted with as he performed at the restaurant they were chose for the evening. It was nothing but innocent singing and dancing, some of which was caught on camera. The footage shared by Bayley and Afia, prompting Roman to start texting Solana wanting to know the name of "the fucker" who was "all up" on her.

Joe was, in fact, not on her but rather interacting with the group as a whole. Not that that made a difference to her husband.

So, she had to deescalate that.

And then, there was the second round. The one she's in the middle of now.

Mickie and Bayley, unbeknownst to Solana, uploaded a video of one of the dance challenges she’d done with the girls the other night to Solana's Instagram page. The Tapout challenge, she thinks it’s called. Regardless of the name, it was the dancing, the twerking and throwing of ass she was doing that was shared to her page that has her husband on the brink of a stroke. “You can’t kill people just because they liked my video.”

“The fuck I can’t,” he protests, running his hands through his hair. “This is why I hate this social media shit.”

Right about now, Solana feels the same. “Baby, I made the video private. No one can see it anymore."

“But, they did see it, Solana, and they were liking and….commenting on it with those weird little ass picture things.”

“Emojis, Ro.” Solana closes her eyes. “They’re called emojis, honey.”

He’s dismissive, too wound up and focused on an issue that isn’t even a big issue. “Whatever they’re called, there were hearts and shit. And someone even had the fucking audacity to put a tongue. What the fuck does that even mean?”

Solana has a guess, but she’s not going to give him that supposition. He’s already upset enough. 

She decides to try to redirect the subject. “How was the get-together?”

He shoots her a look that’s more telling than any answer he could give. “The worse fucking night of my life.” Solana rolls her eyes. Her husband can be so dramatic. “All those damn people.”

“Roman, it was literally your family.”

“And?” She shakes her head. While Solana knew he wouldn’t be thrilled, she was hoping he’d get something out of it.

“You mean to tell me the entire night was awful?” And, it’s in posing that question, Solana sees it. Sees something flash in his eyes. “Did—did something happen?”

More hesitation, before he almost reluctantly answers, “I had a….talk with Matteo.”

Solana’s eyes widen. She definitely wasn’t expecting that. “Oh?” Solana shifts on the bed, wanting to give him her full, undivided attention. “How….how was that?”

Roman looks off in the distance, the difficulty he’s having in verbalizing himself evident and visible to his wife. “Wasn’t what I was expecting.” His answer is vague, borderline dismissive, and Solana is prepared to drop it, to tell him he doesn’t have to tell her anything more, when he continues in an almost low voice. “I’ll—I’ll tell you about it when you get home.”

An unexpected offer. One she’s extremely appreciative of. Not even because it’s important for her to know what happened in and with this conversation, but because it means a lot to her that her husband is willing to share that with her. She knows how hard vulnerability is for Roman, so any opportunity she has to provide that safe space for him, she’ll do it. Every single time.

“Okay,” is the answer she settles on, followed by a gentle, “you know I’m always here for you, Ro…..whatever you need.”

“I know.” A simple response and acknowledgment. 

More than enough. 

They talk for another half hour, Solana checking in on him, making sure he’s eating well, sleeping well, taking his meds. The usual. He asks about how her trip has been, any unpleasant pregnancy symptoms, ensuring she doesn’t need him for anything. Again, the usual for them.

Always looking out for each other.

And when their FaceTime call finally ends, Solana feels inclined to send him a text, reminding him once more that she’s available if he needs to talk. About anything. 

But, a soft knock at the door pulls Solana from her mid-typing. She lifts her head to see Afia standing in the doorway, wearing a soft smile, something black folded over her forearm. “Busy?”

She shakes her head, waving her head. “Not at all. Come in.”

Afia does so, closing the previously cracked door behind her. She walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. “Everything alright?”

Solana nods, a small smile on her face. “He’s fine. Just being Roman.” Looking her over, she has to ask, “are the kids okay?”

It’s always a wonderful thing to see how Afia’s face lights up whenever Solana mentions or asks about her children. “Yes. They miss me, of course, but they love their dad, so they’re managing just fine.”

Solana believes that. Believes that just as Afia is a wonderful, attentive, caring mother, Matteo is just the same as a father. She saw how the kids flocked to him at the party, boys roughhousing with their dad, while Sana laid her little head against his chest when she became tired. It’s obvious what a wonderful, close-knit family they are.

“I hope Roman and I can have what you have with your kids,” she confesses, quietly. Because, she does. Because what Solana wants more than anything for her children is for them to be happy. To give them the childhood she and Roman never got to have.

“You will,” Afia affirms. “It’ll be even better than what we have.” The reassurance ignites a warm, appreciative smile on Solana’s face when her sister-in-law hands her the black item. “Which is why I had to get this for you.” Slightly confused, Solana accepts the item. “Or maybe I should say Roman.”

Eager for clarification, Solana lifts and opens up what she realizes is a shirt. A gasp. “Afia!” Solana is instantly laughing, scoffing in disbelief. “You didn’t.”

The Nigerian woman chuckles. “I did. I saw your face light up when you saw it.” Solana continues to look at the large black shirt that reads “Real Men Make Twins” in Spanish. A shirt she’d seen when the group went out shopping earlier. “It was obvious you wanted it, but I know you couldn’t get it without drawing suspicion. Thankfully, I didn’t have to worry about that.”

Solana brings the shirt to her chest, hugging it, imagining Roman wearing said shirt. Wearing the shirt while holding their twin daughters. “Thank you, Afia.”

Solana reaches and hugs the other woman who murmurs into her ear, “you’re welcome.” As the two separate and Solana once again finds herself in awe over the thoughtful gesture, Afia inquires, “everything still going good?”

Nodding, the mother-to-be offers, “yes. According to my doctor, it’s only a matter of time before I start showing.” Not soon enough though, to Solana. She knows she’s pregnant, but there’s something about being able to physically see that she’s pregnant is what she’s looking forward to the most.

Afia chuckles. “You’re three months, right?” Solana nods, and Afia chuckles. “Oh, yes. Twins, too? Yes. you’ll wake up one morning and find a whole ass baby bump.”

Curious, Solana questions, “is that how it was for you?”

Afia nods. “For both my pregnancies. On a Monday, I woke up with abs. By Wednesday morning, I was showing.”

While there’s a bit of faux irritation in her voice in describing her experience, Solana finds excitement growing within her. 

She can’t wait to experience that for herself.

And with Roman, too.

Eager to pry Afia’s brain for something Solana has been thinking about the past couple weeks, as well as knowing a conversation happened between their husbands tonight, she shifts on the bed. “Hey, can I ask—”

A knock on the door interrupts the asking of said question as Solana quickly hides the shirt behind her pillow before calling out. “Come in.”

Afia turns just in time to see Naomi turn the knob and open the door. Solana is watching the whole time, so she sees the way Naomi’s small smile drops into a straight line.

Clearing her throat, Solana maintains her smile. “Hey.” She moves over on the bed and pats the spot next to her. “Come join us.”

Naomi shakes her head, that same almost negative energy that’s surrounded her the whole trip so far, permeating the atmosphere. “That’s alright.”

Afia moves to get up. “I can leave, if you’d prefer—”

“I said, that’s alright,” Naomi cuts her off, both Afia and Solana wearing partially shocked expressions by her abruptness. “Just forget it.”

As she turns to leave, there’s another turn that happens. Not literally, like Naomi’s departure from the room, but something abstract and almost metaphorical.

The knob that exists within Solana regarding her emotions. The dial between patience and impatience, and right now, Solana is leaning much toward the latter than the former.

Untangling her legs from the bed, she mutters to Afia, “I’ll be right back.”

Afia says something, but Solana isn’t listening, too focused, too frustrated, too pissed.

Moving down the hall, she’s grateful to find Naomi’s door cracked and the room void of Bayley, who’s clearly still out back by the pool with Cameron and Mickie.

Closing it behind her to secure privacy, Solana gets right to it. “Okay, what is your problem?” As Naomi stands on the opposite side of the room, arms crossed, pacing almost, Solana continues. “You’ve been off this entire trip. Distant as heck, and I’m trying to figure out why.”

Distant is a nice way to put what Solana really wants to say, the not so nice word that comes to mind remaining in the safe confines of her mind.

Naomi, however, shakes her head. “This isn’t the place.”

Solana couldn’t disagree more. “I think this is exactly the place.” Crossing her arms, she asks again, tone a bit softer. “Naomi, please….talk to me.”

That, however, seems to be the wrong thing to say. “Talk to you?” She smiles, but there’s nothing happy or comical about it. “You want me to talk to you? Why? Why should I when you’ve been damn MIA for months now?”

Solana finds herself frowning. “What–what are you talking about?”

Her head tilts back, as she moves to pinch her nose. “Solana, for months now, you’ve been acting weird. One minute, we’re hearing from you, the next, I can’t even get a text back. One minute, we’re training a couple times a week. Now, I don’t know the last time I saw you at the Warehouse. Unanswered texts then a random ass invite to dinner where all you can talk about is Roman and how you’ve been trying to help him, while also putting me in an uncomfortable position by asking me to keep secrets from Jimmy.”

“Naomi, I didn’t—”

“And then after scheduling and canceling this girls trip 5011 times, you finally have it, and you’re acting like everything’s fine and dandy when it’s not. Things are a mess right now, Solana, and in every version I’ve heard of what happened, you are the nucleus of every story.”

Solana knew something was going on with Naomi, but she could have never anticipated what she’s hearing would come out of the woman’s mouth. “What—what are you talking about?”

Another wrong thing to say. “You seriously don’t know?” Solana doesn’t have to answer, because Naomi is already onto explanations. “Roman kicked Rikishi, Jey, and Solo out of his inner circle. Demoted them all.” 

Eyes widening, Solana only has one word oscillating in her mind, a word that escapes. “What?”

“Yes,” Naomi scoffs, crossing her arms. “Whatever happened with you and Rikishi a couple months ago is something Roman clearly isn’t over, or maybe his pride is wounded—”

“Do you know what happened?” Solana finds herself asking, interrupting, irritation starting to bubble again. She doesn’t like Naomi’s almost accusatory tone. “What he tried to do?”

Naomi shakes her head and presses her fingers to her temple.  “Solana, I love you. I promise I do, but right now, I don’t care what happened, because whatever it was has spiraled into this big mess.” She blows out a breath, laying it all out. “Jey is pissed with Roman, and I have to hear about it every day since Roman has him helping me train new recruits. Jimmy hears it the most though. He’s so torn with this whole thing. Being put in a position where he feels like he has to pick between his actual brothers and the man he always viewed as a brother. He’s been so stressed out, and it’s affecting our marriage, Solana.” 

Each sentence is like a slice into Solana’s heart, because underneath Naomi’s frustration, she sees it, she feels it. The hurt.

Naomi is hurt behind it all. 

“And don’t get me wrong, Jey was wrong for that scene he pulled at the restaurant and even at your welcome home party, but Roman is wrong for taking this all so personal and responding the way he has.”

That. 

That, however, is the comment that makes Solana’s compassion dwindle just a bit.

“I didn’t know Roman had demoted them, Naomi. I—I didn’t.” She truly didn’t, and while a part of her wishes her husband had told her about this, she can understand why he didn’t. The same reason she’s prepared to point out to Naomi. “But, his hands are tied. Jey—Jey has been out of control lately. What was Roman supposed to do? He had to make a call, and he made it.”

Naomi cuts her eyes to the ceiling. “He made the wrong call though, Solana.”

“According to who?” 

“Roman is the Tribal Chief,” Solana defends, uncrossing her arms. “He did what he did because it was best for the Bloodline—”

“Roman did what was best for you, Solana!” Naomi cuts her off, voice raised, borderline a shout. Solana is quiet, still trying to process just what’s transpiring. “He felt like you were disrespected, and he couldn’t have that, so he made it about you.”

A heavy, loaded pause followed by an almost whispered question. “You–you think all this is my fault?”

It’s clear that Naomi is heedful with her answer, each word carefully chosen. “I think a lot of Roman’s decision making has been based upon what’s best for you and him, not what’s good for the Bloodline, and if you can’t see that, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

But regardless of the methodical wording, it’s painfully obvious that it could all be summarized to one, telling word.

Yes.

Yes, she does think this is Solana’s fault.

Similarly, the younger woman is also careful in her wording. Finding that balance between assertive and validating. “You’re upset, and I get that. You’re allowed to be upset. It’s not fair. And, I really am so sorry that what’s happening is not only happening but affecting you and Jimmy.” All of that is just as true as the next portion of her thought-out response. “But, I will not allow you to put this on me. You know better than most people how much I struggled with blaming myself for things, so I am not going to let you bring me back to that headspace.” Tears brim in Solana's eyes for a variety of reasons, because of the small ways that she already has been taken to that space.

Glimpses of all the times blame was laid toward her. Largely from Xavier and Wesley. From the most mundane things, like breakfast not being ready on time, all the way up to being told it was her fault she was raped because she didn't "fight hard enough."

She was blamed for all the things no one should be blamed for.

Never again.

Never will she allow that to be the case.

Not even with someone she considers a sister. 

Guilt and a sense of sadness gleams in Naomi’s soft brown eyes. “Solana, I didn’t mean—”

“You should leave.”

A pregnant pause. “What?”

Solana swallows, doing her best to keep the tears at bay. “It’s obvious you feel some type of way about me right now, about Roman, and I–I have to respect that. I will, but you have to respect that I can’t have that kind of energy around me right now. It’s not fair to me or any of the other girls.”

It isn’t. Naomi’s attitude has been a thing noticed and commented on not only by herself but Afia, Mickie, and even Cameron, who normally doesn’t like to comment on things like that. And, it’s clear that said attitude isn’t going away anytime soon, because there’s a lot that needs to be discussed and worked through. None of which Solana is interested in doing right now or at any point on this trip. 

She’s got enough on her plate. 

“I’ll have Bautista make arrangements for you to use the jet to fly back in the morning—”

“Seriously, Solana?” Naomi scoffs, her face a mixture of several emotions. “You’re really doing this?”

“I don’t want to do this, Naomi.” She really doesn’t. This is the last outcome she expected when walking into this room. “But—but I can’t deal with this right now. I don’t want to.” She wipes at a tear that’s managed to escape, gliding down her cheek. “When I get back home, you and I can talk one on one, because you do deserve clarity and answers. I just….I don’t want to do it right now.”

Naomi just looks at her. “Wow.” There’s a tension and heaviness that travels through the room, settling on the walls, making itself at home, dwelling in the roots of discord that have been planted. “After everything we’ve been through, the friendship, the sisterhood we have, this is how you’re treating me?”

“Naomi.” Solana closes her eyes. It seems like this somehow becomes more and more complicated, twisted, and messy with every second that passes. “I want to figure this out with you, make things right, because you mean so much to me. You are my sister. My best friend, but I—I just need you to understand that mentally, I can’t do this right now.” Repeating of the same thing, just with elaboration and vulnerability. A certain amount of it, because what Solana really wants to say is stress is something she can’t have due to her pregnancy.

A pregnancy Naomi still doesn’t know about. 

A pregnancy, as much as it pains her to think it, Solana is somewhat happy Naomi doesn’t know about.

Because with what’s been said, the distance and tension that exists between them, Solana doesn’t know if the woman she considered, still considers to be a sister, would be happy for her. 

And, that hurts.

It hurts like hell. 

—---------

Solana feels sick, and for the first time in months, it has nothing to do with the children growing inside of her and everything to do with the past, present, and future.

She has no idea how long she’s been in the shower. Long enough for her fingers to prune and sweat to form on her forehead from the steam of the borderline scorching water. A small smile forms on her face recalling a shower she took with her husband before leaving for her trip, Roman’s scowl as he stepped in the water and cursed almost immediately from the temperature.

“Solana, what the hell? Are you trying to fucking burn us?”

It’s a memory that makes her laugh. For someone so serious, her husband might be one of the funniest people she knows.

But just as quickly as her smile was there, it’s wiped away as she’s reminded once more that that was then, and this is now. Roman isn’t here. Because she told him she didn’t need him. Told him she could do this on her own, and she can, but she can’t. A wicked dichotomy that’s resulted in nothing but overthinking and ruminating over the past few hours.

Catastrophizing, as Gail would call it. Playing out the worst case scenario, and both believing and accepting it as true. It’s exactly what she’s done. What she’s been doing. 

And to her credit, Solana does her best to utilize the techniques she’s learned in therapy when situations like this arrive, but this particular occurrence is a more challenging one, because all Solana wants to do is climb back in bed and forget about the whole thing.

And, she could. Solana knows that no one can make her do this. Roman would especially encourage her to do what feels most right to her. What she’s comfortable with. But, the reality is that what’s comfortable isn’t what’s always right. She needs to do this. Solana knows she needs to do this, but damn, is she terrified.

That’s the future concern. Then, there’s the past.

The conversation, borderline argument, with Naomi that had Solana so messed up, Bayley happened to walk by and overheard her crying in her room, prompting her cousin to come see what was wrong. Solana didn’t provide specifics, didn’t want to make Bayley feel like she was in the middle of things, but she did share that they’d had a disagreement and Naomi was leaving in the morning.

To say that situation didn’t fuck with her mentally would be a lie.

Naomi means so much to Solana. She’s a best friend and a sister, one of the first Solana has had in her entire life. It guts her to know Naomi feels the way she does and is going through what she is. That the mess with the Bloodline is now impacting her marriage with Jimmy.

Solana especially hates that. They’ve always had such a strong union, a wonderful dynamic. To know that’s not the case anymore, at least right now, is rough. 

And, then there’s the whole Bloodline dynamic. Solana had no idea Roman had dismissed and demoted the three men. He didn’t tell her, and she knows why he didn’t, doesn’t blame him, per se. But, damn, once again, something else on her husband’s plate he’s been dealing with alone. 

She hates that.

Hates that she didn’t know, even if she gets why he probably didn’t keep her in the loop.

But, still.

Eventually, after recognizing it’s only a matter of time until someone comes looking for her, Solana actually completes her shower and steps out, wrapping the towel around her body. She uses another smaller towel to clear a chunk of the mirror from the accumulated condensation, granting her a view of herself. Eyes falling to the counter where her toiletries are spread, a blush climbs up to her cheeks as she’s hit with another memory. 

Propped up on the counter, her husband’s face buried in between her legs before he carried her to their bedroom and made love to her. Her birthday trip. The days after when they’d been intimate for the first time, a door opening that Solana never intends to allow anyone to ever force her to have shut anymore.

But, as was the case with the shower memory, the recollection of a steamier encounter is no match for her anxiety, because she’s right back to overthinking. Overthinking the conversation with Naomi but especially the conversation she’s supposed to have in a matter of hours.

Right back to picturing the worst case ever when it comes to something she initially believed could go okay. And, there’s a part of her that knows this. Knows that the most realistic outcome will be okay.

So, why can’t she just focus on that instead of visions and flashes of being called a liar, screamed at, sent away, rejected?

Solana swallows the lump in the back of her throat and proceeds to carry on with her routine. Dental hygiene, styling her hair, applying deodorant and her body oils and creams. No makeup. She’s certain tears will be shed for one reason or another, and having black streaks down her face doesn’t sound like a fun time.

None of it does, but that’s a small thing that’ll only exacerbate things. 

Solana sprays her Delina perfume, a gift from Roman, on her pulse points and lightly taps her wrists together before reaching for her bra, underwear, and gray dress she’d picked. A pick she’s also now questioning, because what if it’s too revealing? Truth be told, with her large chest, anything she wears could fall into the “revealing” category, especially as she’s noticed some slight changes in her body in the past few weeks. Breast slightly bigger, hips a little wider. All symptoms of her pregnancy, certainly, but still noticeable, nonetheless.

Granted, Isla Mujeres is hot as hell, so too much clothing will certainly attract too much heat and make her sweat. Her dress is most appropriate given the weather, just maybe not the occasion. 

Frustrated with yet another issue her brain has made an issue, Solana dresses herself, unable to keep the tears at bay. Droplets sliding down her face, she rubs them away with all of the frustration growing inside of her. Try as hard as she does to push it back, Solana can’t deny the growing difficulty she’s having in not at least texting or calling her husband. 

She doesn’t need him here, per se, so she thinks, but hearing his voice, or even his reassuring messages could make a huge difference. 

But, he’s busy. She knows he’s busy, especially after what she learned last night. Roman is always busy, and yet, he always makes time for her. He’s done it a tremendous amount of times ever since learning of the pregnancy, so much so that she feels bad putting this on him as well. 

She just needs to deal with this on her own, even though she’s not alone. She’s surrounded by friends who would love and support her. But, there’s just something different about her husband. His support hits harder, feels stronger. It’s truly the balm she needs in most situations. 

Just not in this one. 

She’ll have to deal.

It’s a realization Solana begrudgingly comes to accept when she grabs her phone off the counter and opens the door to head back into her room. Except, the minute she does, that same phone she just picked up is now on the plush carpet of the master bedroom, and the tears brewing are pushed over the edge.

Solana opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Words aren’t what she wants right now. What she wants is to be in her husband’s warm embrace, and that’s exactly what she does.

Her feet quickly carry her across the room where she flings herself into Roman’s waiting arms from where he sits on the edge of their bed. The force of the collision forces him back on the bed, but she doesn’t care. She prefers it. Prefers lying atop him, his big, strong arms wrapped protectively around her as she nuzzles her face into his neck.

This was the last thing Solana expected. For Roman to be here, to surprise her by popping up in Mexico. 

She doesn’t know why he’s here or how he even knew to come, but she doesn’t question it. Doesn’t question it at all.

Because it’s exactly what she needed.

Solana feels his warm lips pressed against her temple, the way one hand soothes along the length of her back and the other palms her ass. Placement that’s calming in a way only he can achieve. She’s clutching him, basking in the relief he brings when his deep voice rumbles in her ear. “What’s wrong, pretty girl?”

A lot. There’s a lot Solana could bring up to him right now, namely the Bloodline situation, but that’s less of a pressing issue than the one she has to face in a few hours.

One thing at a time.

A sad smile against him followed by a quiet confession. “I don’t think I can do this, Ro.” 

He sighs. “Sol…”

Solana also sighs and reluctantly shifts so she’s no longer hugging him but propped up on one elbow, other hand on his chest as she looks down at him. “What if she doesn’t believe me? Or—or rejects me?” Roman reaches his hand to brush away some of her tears. “I just….I don’t think I can handle that.”

“Solana, why would she reject you?” His question is posed with all the consideration and care. “She already likes you. Hell, she probably already loves you.”

“But, Roman….” And it’s only then, the deeply buried fear, the core belief that drives so much of Solana’s doubt and fear is revealed. “Her daughter’s dead because….because of me.” She closes her eyes, biting down on her bottom lip to try to contain the second set of tears. “What….what if she blames me?”

It’s a scary but true thing to admit aloud, to verbally express something she herself struggled with for years. Blaming herself for her mother’s murder, and while Solana is still trying to work through, largely with therapy, her now confusing feelings toward her mother, the fact of what happened and how it’s impacted her remains unchanged.

It’s still and will probably always be something she has a bit of self-blame about. 

A sort of blame she fears she’ll receive from Paloma.

“Solana…” Roman sits up and adjusts them, tugging her onto his lap so she’s straddling him, hands on her hips. “You were a child. Do you honestly think she will blame you for what happened?” He doesn’t offer time for her to answer, transitioning to his next set of questions. “That she’d be upset to find out that she has a granddaughter? That she has some living, remaining connection to her daughter?” One of Roman’s hands shifts to Solana’s stomach, moving in small circles. “That she’s going to be angry at finding out you’re going to make her a great-grandmother?” 

As always, his words and nonverbal gestures are comforting and soothing, dwindling down her anxiety. “She already loves you. This isn’t going to change that. If anything, it might make it stronger.” 

The explanation is effective, chipping away and dismantling her fears, replacing it with something similar to confidence. Most logical outcome trumping worst case scanrios. 

“You’re right,” she murmurs after a few minutes of mulling over all of his counterpoints. Solana closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I—I can do this.”

“Of course, you can,” he encourages, lifting her chin to bring her gaze onto him. “Do you want me to go with you?”

A part of her wants to say yes, another part wants to say no. One overpowers the other. “Yes.”

He doesn’t have to come inside, doesn’t even have to leave the car. Just having his presence right before will be enough.

Solana leans forward and hugs him, eyes shutting. “Thank you.”

His response is a kiss to her cheek and the reiteration of his mantra when it comes to her. Always. “I’ve got you.”

—---------

There's brief discussion who should accompany Solana to go see Paloma. Initially, it was going to be Bayley, but with Roman now present, as well as not wanting to give anything away before Solana can explain, it's settled that it'll just be Solana and Roman.

And, she's grateful for him. Holds his hand the entire drive there and basks in the comforting way he kisses her after helping her out of the SUV.

She's even grateful for the little nod Bautista gives her, before she moves down the stone path to the front door. He obviously doesn't know the specifics, but he knows enough to know she's about to do something important.

Something potentially life-changing and terrifying. All of which overwhelms her and slams her in the face as she nervously knocks on the door.

But, it's the minute that the door opens, Solana is immediately engulfed by a burst of warm, loving energy.

“Solana.” Paloma’s smile is wide and welcoming as she claps her hands on the apron around her waist before stepping over the mantle and welcoming her into a tight embrace. Initially, there’s discomfort on Solana’s end, not from the physical gesture but from the fact that it’s here. That she’s finally here. “It’s so good to see you, child.”

The second introductory statement pushes down some of the anxiety, Solana able to lean into the embrace, accepting it, allowing the energy to transfer over to her.

Paloma squeezes her once more before stepping back, surveying her almost. “Look at your hair.” She reaches for the ends, complimenting, “you look good, Solana.”

“Thank you,” is Solana’s quiet response, as Paloma looks over her shoulder.

“Is he….”

Solana does the same, seeing Roman leaning back against the SUV, dark shades covering his eyes, muscled arms crossed. Waiting. He’s waiting for her signal. A sign that she’s okay.

And, she gives him that, gives him that nod of approval. Roman gives her a small nod as well, moving to talk to Bautista who stands a few feet away and will remain with her, patrolling the outside premises with her security detail.

“No,” Solana finally answers, turning back to Paloma. “Not—not this time.”

Because, if this doesn’t go horribly wrong, Solana is hoping for more interaction between her husband and the woman who is her biological grandmother.

Even if Paloma doesn’t know it just yet.

Being inside of Paloma’s home is….it’s an experience. It’s an experience, because judging by the wear and tear on some of the walls, the almost dated styling of the hacienda home, Solana would guess that she’s lived here for some time. 

Long enough to raise a family. 

Or at the very least, a child. 

A child who grew up to be a woman. A woman who had her own children, Solana being one of those children.

“Tea?” Paloma holds up the teapot from where she stands by the stove in her kitchen. Small, warm tones, floral designs and a welcoming atmosphere. Much like the rest of her home.

Solana offers a polite decline. “No thank you.” She starts to ask what the tea is but ultimately decides against it, not wanting to risk anything. “Thank—thank you for having me.”

Paloma gives her a look. “Child, please. I’ve been waiting for this.” Paloma prepares her own cup of tea, adding just a bit of honey and a pinch of spices. “I’ve been worried about you.”

An expected thing. Solana knows her contact with Paloma has been abysmal since their initial meeting a few months back, and though not without good reason, it’s still something she feels bad about.

As Paloma sits down across from her, stirring her tea, she asks, gaze assessing. “How have you been?”

Such a simple question with a loaded, heavy answer. It’s not something Solana hasn’t thought about, twisted and turned in bed over, trying to settle on just how much she wanted to share of what’s transpired.

“It….it’s been a lot,” she finally answers after a minute or two of silence. “After…after I left here and went back home, some….some things happened, and I—my mental health got really bad.” Solana’s gaze falls to her lap as she pulls at the material of her dress, needing a distraction from the fluttering in her chest. Anxiety. “I—I was in the hospital and a treatment facility for a while.”

“Solana….”

“I’m better now,” she answers, eyes closing, reminding herself that where she was is far from where she is now. And, she’s never going back to that dark place. “I’m…significantly better.”

Paloma’s mug sits on the table, mostly untouched. She reaches over, placing a hand on top of Solana’s. “I’m so sorry.” Her warm eyes twinkle with concern. “I had a feeling something was going on with you. I’ve been praying for you. Praying for peace.”

“Thank you,” Solana murmurs. She’s not sure anyone’s ever said anything of the sort to her before. “I—I appreciate that. It….it means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” The older woman squeezes her hand, asking almost urgently.  “Is there anything you need? Anything I can do for you?”

And, there it is. The moment that Solana has both dreaded and waited for for some time now. A door being opened and paving way for her to fulfill a task that she’d give anything to push off for as long as she can, even if, deep down, she knows it’s not the right thing to do. She can’t keeping avoiding the inevitable.

It’s time.

“I—” Solana takes a deep breath. I can do this. “I—I have something I need to talk to you about. Something….something I need to tell you.” Solana swallows, doing her best to remain as open and vulnerable as she can. It’s more than needed in a situation as heavy and layered as this. “And the truth….the truth is that I’m terrified about how you’re going to respond.”

Paloma gaze shifts into something almost unreadable. “Solana, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine, child. Please. Just tell me.”

So much easier said than done. Solana looks away, blowing out a deep breath. “I—I never knew a lot about my mother’s side of the family. She never….she never really spoke about them.” And now that Solana knows the full backstory, she can’t be upset with her mother for it. Other things, yes, but not that. “I—I always wondered though.” Trembling hands reach into the purse that sits in the seat next to her, pulling out two items. An envelope and a polaroid photo turned downward. “When I was—I was going through and reorganizing some of my mom’s old journals, I found a letter she wrote me….before she passed.” Her voice dips with all the emotion that still accompanies that moment when she not only found the letter but read said letter. “And, it shared a lot. So much information that I didn’t know but now know, and it’s been hard for me finding out what I did.” A lot of her sessions with Gail since then revolving around Solana processing and working through all of the information. “But, the most important thing I gained from the letter was finding out more about her, her family….my family. And….” It’s been some time since Solana has felt this anxious, the only comparison that feels most equivalent being the night Roman found out about her pregnancy and Fetu’s letter. “If….if you’d like to read the letter—”

“No,” Paloma interrupts, her voice somehow both firm and gentle. “That—that’s too personal, Solana. Your mother most likely intended it to be for your eyes only. I could never…” She trails off, caught off guard by how Solana carefully stands from her seat and moves over to her knees in front of her. “Solana, what are you—”

“Please believe me when I say I had no idea who you were when we met. I didn’t—I didn’t know the truth then, and I’m sorry for—”

“Solana.” Gentle hands move to cup her face, Solana just now realizing that she’s crying and on the verge of an anxiety attack. “What is it?”

Solana closes her eyes. It’s time.

Licking her lips, ignoring the massive weight that feels like it’s settled upon her chest, she lifts her hand, sliding the envelope and polaroid across the table in front of Paloma. Verbal directions are unnecessary as the still very confused and very concerned older woman lowers her hands from Solana’s face to take the items she’s been handed.

Solana expects her to go for the envelope first.

She doesn’t.

She lifts up the polaroid first.

And, the minute she does, a loud, almost violent gasp leaves her. One hand over her mouth, her eyes are glued to the photo, her shoulders almost trembling. Nothing is said, and the seconds that pass are filled with every bit of anxiety and tension that Solana also feels coursing through her entire body.

“Where…..” Paloma’s voice is shaky, her eyes now watering as she looks over at Solana. “Where did you get this photo?”

“I’ve always had it,” Solana is also trembling, her voice wavering. “It’s one of my favorite photos….” No greater fear has filled Solana than waiting for whatever follows the next statement that leaves her mouth. “Of my mother.”

The gasp that emits from Paloma’s mouth this time is louder, heavier, and significantly more emotional. She drops the picture onto the table, moving her hands to look at Solana, to really look at her.

Like she’s doing so for the first time.

And, in many ways, she is.

“I always thought you looked like my Alma,” Paloma cries. “But, I didn’t say anything, because after she disappeared, I almost lost my mind, and I—I saw her in every young woman, and I just thought….” She closes her eyes, crying harder. “I can’t believe after all these years…..” Another gasp, hiccupped almost request. “Please….I must know…what happened to my daughter? What did he do to her?”

And in everything Solana feared about this moment, this is the part that frightened her the most. The moment she fears will change everything in the most awful of ways.

But, the truth is something that frees, liberates, and deserves to be voiced. 

Paloma deserves to know what happened. 

“When....when I was still a child, she came up with....with a plan....” Speaking is such a trepidatious thing to to do, but somehow, someway, Solana powers through it. “She was trying….she was trying to get us out of there, to….to escape my father.” Solana will never again consider Xavier her father, but thinking back to the letter, how her mother shared he lied about his identity, she knows using the name Xavier will only be confusing. Bring about more questions. And, she will answer them. But, right now, answering the question at hand is the most important thing. “But, he—he found out—” Solana sniffles, unable to settle her tears or any of the heavy emotions that accompany this weighty moment. “And, he sent—he sent men to kill us.”

Paloma’s eyes shut. “Oh my God….”

“She died protecting me,” Solana shares, the memory of her mother’s dead body atop of her returning to the front of her mind, bringing about a fresh new set of tears. “She’s—she’s dead because of me, and I’m so sorry—” She's unable to finish her sentence, too wrecked by her sobs, head falling as she covers her face. Overwhelmed with the guilt that she feels will always lie within, dormant at times, active at others.

Never to fully go away.

Paloma moves her hands to Solana’s wrist, carefully lowering her hands as she once again cups her face. “No, child.” She shakes her head, affirming with all the conviction. “What happened was not your fault.” Words that Solana heard for the first time, in a long time, for her husband. That, in many ways, changed her life. Now being repeated again by her grandmother in yet another life changing moment. “Solana….” Her smile is sad, her soul clearly heavy, but her determination unwavering. “There exists no greater act of love for a mother than to lay down her life in order to save her child.” She wipes away Solana’s tears. “And that’s exactly what my Alma did.” Solana closes her eyes, hand falling to her stomach. “She died just as she lived.” Her voice catches. “With love.”

Love.

The emotion that’s most dominant in this moment, settling over and overpowering any trace of fear and doubt and any other negative feeling Solana expected to encounter. The rejection she expected to receive in the face of the truth.

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Head falling into Paloma’s lap, Solana sobs. She sobs from the loss of her mother, from the reunification of her family, from the everything that this moment of truth has brought her, and from the love that overwhelms her. 

“My granddaughter.” Paloma leans over, crying and kissing the back of Solana’s head, holding her, cradling her with an unrelenting grip. Like she won’t let go. Like she’ll never let go. “My beautiful, beautiful, nieta….”

--------

translation:

nieta = granddaughter

[clowngremlin]

my need to always be wearing an overshirt (hawaiian or flannel) vs the fact that i am super prone to heat exhaustion.....fight!

[adore-gregor]

🙄🫠

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — YUUJI ITADORI. isn’t it weird? how love never changes.

about. no matter what anyone says, yuuji itadori’s love for you is unwavering and he hopes that you’ll never see a reason to change. not for anyone, not even him. (1K)

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters are aged up to 20s and in college, weird gf and jock bf, yuuji is a jock and has obnoxious teammates, reader is an introvert and wears glasses, selfship coded i fear, fem!reader.

“itadori, don’t you think your girlfriend is a little.. weird?”

the pink haired jock blinks once, then frowns  as he tugs a fresh shirt over his head — practice with his soccer team had ran a little longer than anticipated and he didn’t feel like coming home to you, his girlfriend, in a stinky old shirt. 

yuuji’s not sure when the topic of locker room talk had switched onto him and his love life but he cares enough to bite — not about to let his teammates talk smack about his girl. “where’d you get that idea from?”

another teammate speaks up. “when she comes to your games, she wears your sweatshirts but doesn’t cheer for you at all.” 

“she’s just shy, nothing wrong with that.” yuuji counters.

“whenever we hang out at the after partie she’s always… clinging onto you… doesn’t drink with any of us.”

“i told you, she’s a little shy,”  he stands up a little straighter this time, narrowing his eyes. “and parties aren’t for everyone. she might not like them but she’s there to support me. shouldn’t that be enough?”

“but dude…” someone else speaks up. “don’t you find any of that strange? like she’s just… weird.”

yuuji can’t get home fast enough after that. he almost falls to pieces when he sees you singing and shuffling your way through the cupboards in his dorm kitchen — making yourself a snack. he loves it when you stay over and he gets to watch you like this, so calm and at ease in his space. he feels grateful to even be sharing it with you.

weird isn’t a word that yuuji itadori would use to describe his girlfriend. 

he finds you intriguing. your relationship is still new, so all of the differences between you both interest him beyond belief. each time he discovers a new habit of yours (like the way you forget to take your glasses off when you sleep) or a fact about your life before college, or finds out something obscure relating to your hobbies and interests… yuuji can’t help but to fall in love with you all over again. like an astronomer who’s searching for the secrets of the universe, the pink haired jock wants to know every interesting little detail that makes you, you. 

that’s created the very person he loves today. 

“please never change,” yuuji breathes against the back of your head once he’s home. you can’t even comprehend the speed at which he’s dropped his gym back before he’s wrapped himself around you in the same manner that a boa constrictor would. only more affectionate. “and if you do, let me change with you.” 

being this close to itadori, you can smell his baby-fresh soap and the tinge of sweat from his work out. you can feel the strength of his arms as they squeeze you close from behind — like he’ll never let you go. he makes you feel loved even when it’s not on purpose, you go your every waking moment cared for and adored by yuuji itadori. it’s always subconscious, unwavering and steady. your love is stable like that, never dampened from those outside of the two of you — that much will never change. 

“that’s a big ask, yuu.” comes your contented hum, but you don’t stop your actions — continuing to make your snack while the pink haired jock squeezes you tight. as if to become one with you. “people change all the time.” 

you hold up a hand behind you and he sucks the peanut butter from your thumb eagerly. “i know, but i don’t want what anyone else says about you or us to make you change,” he mumbles petulantly against the shell of your ear, trying to find the right words as he tucks his face into your neck. “you’re perfect to me, as you are.” 

it’s cute that he reminds you of such a trivial little thing. those big brown eyes of yuuji’s see perfection in all of your flaws. he loves you so much you wonder if how much you feel for him even compares. 

“what’s gotten into you?” you giggle, spinning in his arms to stand on the tips of your toes — pressing a soft kiss to the point at which your boyfriend’s jaw meets his neck. it’s all you can reach. “did something happen?” 

yuuji hesitates for a moment, lips pursed and honey-glazed eyes cast to the side. he would never lie to you, that’s not in his nature — but he’d never want to hurt your feelings either. “the guys…the guys on the team said some stuff about us today,” his voice trails off and his hands trail upwards, dipping underneath the jersey of his that you wear to draw circles into your waist using his rough thumbs. he figures it’s best to tell you before one of his teammates  let it slip and hurt your feelings. he would rather die then let that happen. “they… they think you’re weird and that… that we’re too different.” 

“o-oh.”

a flash of pain comes with the territory of yuuji’s honesty, but he’s quick to soothe it as though he’s running your burn under a stream of cool water. “but i like you. like…really really like you,” the words rush out while his eyes stay serious and set in stone. your boyfriend grasps both of your hands firmly before you can even think to cry or pull away.

yuuji is there and he is constant and that is never changing. not for anyone, except for you. “and i like all of the funny things about you. that you’re a little quiet, that you’re always by my side, that you leave me notes in my gym bag or share your celebrity crushes with me. i like you for you. even if you’re a little weird — then…then i am too!” 

his hands, strong and yet so soft, traverse up to your round cheeks — tilting your head up to face him. “please don’t ever change because of what people say,” yuuji repeats tenderly, his lips finding the crown of your head in a gentle kiss. he stays there, like a magnet on metal and the world stands still for a moment. remaining the same, no longer changing, so that yuuji itadori can love you as is. “the way you are right now, it’s everything to me.” 

itadori only moves when you tip your head back to get a better look at him, he looks down at you through his unfairly long lashes — brown eyed gaze latching onto yours while your hearts sync up, beating to the same drum. “i’ll never change, as long as you promise to always love me like this.”

“i’ll love you the same way that i always have. like i’m the luckiest guy in the world, yeah?” he laughs and you smile — because it’s hard to be upset when yuuji is around, and protects your love so genuinely. 

you lean up and he meets you half way — pressing a slow and lingering kiss to the swell of your lips, wrapping his arms around you once again as you away to a silent tune in his tiny dorm kitchen. 

change is inevitable of course. the two of you will grow and become different people than you are right now — but you will always find your way back to the beautiful love that you hold. 

much like a butterfly that blossoms into something beautiful too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 06

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (male + female receiving), cigarettes. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 12 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

Being fuckbuddies with Sukuna is surprisingly easy. As flustered as you sometimes get when you think about what the two of you do, all that shyness leaves you the moment you are in Sukuna's arms. The moment your clothes are off and you start touching each other, all shame is forgotten. Your sexy little arrangement opens a whole new world to you. You aren't very experienced when it comes to sex, but Sukuna is the perfect person to show you new things.

Of course, there are also people who don't see it that way. Nobara doesn't get tired of rolling her eyes at you anytime she sees you with your phone in hand, assuming you are texting Sukuna and making plans to see him.

"When I said you should maybe fuck him, I meant once! Not whatever it is, the two of you are doing now. You should be careful. Sukuna is a fuckboy. You are just another notch on his bedpost!"

"I told you, I don't want him to be my boyfriend! I am not interested in a relationship either. Sukuna is a fun pasttime. That's all. Maybe I want him to be just a notch on my bedpost, too!"

You know Nobara is just worried about you, and maybe her warnings are valid, but you refuse to listen to her. Your past experiences with relationships left you not wanting to ever fall in love again. What Sukuna offers you sounds safer. No feelings, just casual sex with the hottest guy you have ever met.

You're in Sukuna's bed, your gaze feasting on his gorgeous body. A body he works hard for in the gym every single day. Firm muscles and sexy tattoos. And you are allowed to touch this beautiful body as much as you like.

You trail kisses down Sukuna's broad chest, following his tattoos with your tongue, and his large hand tangles in your hair, rewarding you with his sexy low moans and whispered encouragements in his sexy, velvety voice. You slow down when you are insecure about your skills in the bedroom, but Sukuna is surprisingly patient with you. Sweet even.

There is no pressure, no shame. You start to suck his cock tentatively, smiling sheepishly at him, apologizing for being bad at blow jobs, and instead of getting mad at you, Sukuna cups your cheek and caresses it with his thumb while he grins at you,

"You're doing great, princess, and I can teach you the rest."

And suddenly, it's easy. Sukuna smirks at you and places a large hand on the back of your head, petting your hair while he guides you gently up and down his thick cock, telling you what to do, teaching you how to blow him right. Reassuring you that it feels good when you just French kiss his cock and use your hand for the part you cannot fit in your mouth.

Sukuna is a good teacher, making you feel like you are doing a good job because of the sexy praise his low, raspy voice whispers to you,

"Fuck yeah, just like that, princess. Just make out with my cock. You're doing so good. So sweet for me."

You moan around Sukuna's thick cockhead, feeling your own arousal coat the insides of your thighs, so turned on from what you are doing to Sukuna. It makes you suck even more devotedly on Sukuna's fat cock, licking the throbbing vein on the underside and suckling sweetly on his mushroom tip.

You feel him twitch in your mouth, and for a second, you worry if you will be able to swallow his cum without coughing, but then Sukuna's heavy-lidded maroon gaze meets yours, and a lazy smirk lifts his lips,

"I wanna cum on your face. Be a good girl for me, and just lick my tip until I bust all over your pretty face."

You moan and do as Sukuna says, kissing his tip and licking it, flicking your tongue against it in little kitten licks as if you are licking up milk from a bowl, all the while keeping eye contact with Sukuna. Shameless and naughty, feeling so turned on that you think you may cum too just from making Sukuna cum with your mouth.

And he does cum so beautifully for you. His tattooed thighs tense up, and his cock twitches as a low growl falls from Sukuna's lips. You moan when his swollen mushroom head shoots hot thick ropes of cum all over your face. And Sukuna licks his lips when he looks at you with that sexy, fucked-out expression on his beautiful tattooed face, his gaze following his cum that drips down your chin.

"You did so good. So sweet to me and my dick. Come here, princess."

Sukuna pulls you up into his arms, grinning as he cups your chin with one large hand and then his mouth opens, and he licks a stripe up your cheek, licking his own cum off your face, making your pussy clench around nothing.

You moan, your hands caressing Sukuna's broad chest, digging your nails into his buff pecs as he licks you clean. It is so obscene, so naughty, so fucking sexy. So different from everything you experienced before him. It's you who captures Sukuna's lips in a kiss, craving more, craving his taste. And Sukuna grins against your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth, feeding you his cum, letting you lick it off his tongue.

It's a feverish, sloppy kiss, tasting like sex, and it makes your head spin and moan loudly against Sukuna's lips. You press needily against Sukuna's broad figure, trying to climb on him, throwing one leg over his waist, rubbing your wet needy clit against his abs.

He grins against your lips, pulling away only to wrap his hands around your waist and pull you closer to him, closer to his beautiful tattooed face. You gasp softly when you realize what Sukuna is about to do.

"Don't be shy, princess, just sit on my face. It's your turn now."

You moan breathlessly when Sukuna's strong hands pull you on his face, making your naked dripping-wet pussy brush against his warm mouth, sending sparks of desire through your whole body. You whimper, body shaking from the strain of keeping yourself upright, but Sukuna makes a disapproving noise,

"Come on, sit on me for real. I can take it, princess. Sit."

And he grabs your hips tightly, pulling you down, his lips instantly closing around your swollen clit and sucking on it, making a desperate horny cry tumble from your lips as the pleasure shoots through you.

Even if you still wanted to stay upright, you couldn't do it anymore. You are boneless in Sukuna's grip, lost in pleasure, letting Sukuna take care of you, letting him pamper your pussy with his soft, warm mouth.

You rest your whole weight on him, thighs spreading even further, shamelessly and needy, bucking your hips and rubbing your wet pussy eagerly against his hot lips and velvety tongue, crying out in pleasure when Sukuna's tongue pushes into you, fucking you slowly while his long fingers knead your ass and keep you in place right there on his beautiful tattooed face.

He eats you out until you are a trembling, sobbing mess, crying out anytime Sukuna's soft lips suckle on your clit or when he fucks you with those slow teasing flicks of his tongue.

You feel the pressure inside you build, the knot in your belly so close to snapping, and you tense up, trying to get away from Sukuna's mouth because the pleasure is too much, and you are scared of losing control. But Sukuna's strong hands hold you in place, pulling you back down.

"Just let go for me, princess. I came on your face. Now it's your turn. Make a mess on me."

Sukuna's lips close around your puffy clit again, and you mewl loudly. It's the combination of his words and the way his lips make out with your clit that sends you over the edge.

You cry out his name, your hips bucking wildly as you cum on Sukuna's face, hard and wild and very wet. Your juices drip from his lips even as he keeps eating you, making you cry and scream and bang your fists against the wall behind his bed right beneath the Tigers flag hanging there, while you cum and cum and cum until you feel dizzy.

You feel light-headed when you finally manage to get up from Sukuna's bed. It still feels surreal to see the resident hockey star walking around naked in his room, picking up your clothes from his bedroom floor and placing them on the bed for you. But it's not as awkward anymore. It's almost nice. Sukuna talks casually about the away game the Tigers will play this weekend, and you nod and make some agreeing noises from time to time while you get dressed next to him.

You leave Sukuna's room, making a joking comment about the chaos Yuuji once again left in the living area, and Sukuna asks you if you will meet for lunch tomorrow. You nod and grab your jacket from the back of the couch, about to say good night to Sukuna when the apartment door swings open, banging loudly into the wall, making you jump.

Yuuji and Todo march inside, loud and excited, swinging baseball bats in their strong arms, and Yuuji announces loudly,

"Yo we got the bats, Kuna! Megumi just wants us to bring them back before morning. Let's go!"

His eyes land on you standing next to his brother, and he smiles sheepishly, but his voice still holds the same excitement when he greets you. Todo bumps into Yuuji, making him stumble further into the room, and Todo's gaze wanders from you to Sukuna and back again, fixing you with a scrutinizing gaze as if he is trying to figure something out.

You smile a bit awkwardly at the two hockey players, but Yuuji has already proceeded with his agenda. He throws a baseball bat at Sukuna, who catches it with one hand, twirling it around his long tattooed fingers. A broad, devilish smirk spreads over his face, and you get a tingly feeling in your stomach.

"Good job. Let's teach them not to fuck with Curses."

You look at him in alarm. At the mad grin on his tattooed face and the baseball bat, he's slinging over his broad shoulder.

"Um, what is this about?"

Yuuji and Todo both start talking at the same time, but you can make out the words,

"Rival team." "Revenge" and "Tonight."

Your eyes widen, and you stare in dawning horror at the baseball bat that's now resting on Sukuna's shoulder. Sukuna catches your gaze, and he throws his head back, laughing loudly,

"Your face, princess! Don't worry, we aren't going to kill someone. We will just smash that stupid ice sculpture they have. They deserve it after the shit they pulled on us."

"B... but where is that sculpture, and aren't you going to get into trouble for smashing it?"

Sukuna raises an eyebrow at you, his smirk growing broader, clearly enjoying himself.

"It's in their arena, of course. We'll pick the lock, get in, and smash that ugly-ass bear. It's no big deal. It's just a revenge prank."

You stare at him incredulously,

"That's burglary and property damage!"

But Sukuna just grins even more, looking like the damn Cheshire Cat with that dirty, smug smirk on his beautiful face. His voice drops to a teasing drawl,

"Aww, are you worried about me getting into trouble? You're so cute, princess. But this is hockey code. We will just teach them a lesson."

He twirls the baseball bat elegantly around his long fingers as his gaze snaps to his linemates.

"Alright, Curses. Let's go. Let's fuck them up. I want to make those losers cry."

He looks far too happy about what they plan to do. As if it isn't a completely reckless and dumb idea! Your heart is beating up to your throat as you give Sukuna a stern look,

"This is fucking stupid! You can't do that!"

Sukuna cocks his head, raising an eyebrow,

"Well, watch me, princess."

He puts a large hand on your shoulder and steers you out the door even while you complain loudly. But he just smirks while you try to reason with him all the way down the staircase.

You exit the dorm, and Sukuna leads your little group to his car. Yuuji and Todo climb into the back, all excited chatter and broad grins, the baseball bats firmly in their large hands. And you huff and put your hands on your hips, stepping between Sukuna and the car, not caring how ridiculously you must look, so much shorter and smaller than the huge, strong hockey player with the bad boy look and the face tattoos. You tilt your head back to glare up at his tattooed face,

"Stop it, Sukuna. This is so fucking dumb! I don't understand why Fushiguro, of all people, would support something like that!"

Sukuna laughs softly, shaking his head and smirking at you,

"Good thing Fushiguro has a weakness for my brother. I bet it only took one smile and a whiny "Megumiiii" from Yuuji, and our baseball star handed him the key to the Wolves' equipment rack. But now tell me, why do you care so much, huh princess?"

His smirk is so smug that you feel like shaking him, but you just sigh and glare at him,

"Yeah, okay, I admit it! I don't want you to get into trouble! Are you happy now?"

The look that spreads over Sukuna's face is far too pleased. He steps closer to you, tall, muscular body towering over you while he grins at you,

"Very happy. But as I said, I won't get into trouble. Now get out of the way, princess, and let me take my revenge. They started it by cutting the shoelaces on our skates."

You roll your eyes,

"They cut your shoelaces? And now you go and break in and destroy their expensive ice sculpture mascot or whatever it is? Don't you think that's a bit much?"

"Well, I always avenge things threefold. How would they learn their place otherwise? Noone fucks with me or my team."

And with that said, Sukuna puts his hands on your waist and just lifts you up, and places you down a few steps away from his car, slipping past you before you can do anything. You complain loudly, but Sukuna is already lounging in the driver's seat with that boyish smirk, winking provocatively at you with a "Good night, princess."

You don't know what has gotten into you, but you react impulsively and jog around the car, yanking open the passenger door and plopping down on the passenger seat, and this time, it is Sukuna who can't do anything to prevent it.

His gaze snaps to you, and you grin victoriously at him, almost laughing at the thunderstruck expression on Sukuna's tattooed face.

"What are you doing, princess? Get out of my car."

You cross your arms in front of your chest, shaking your head, grinning smugly at him.

"Forget it. I am not getting out of this car. If you want to go to your little illegal prank, you have to take me with you!"

Sukuna looks at you for a long moment, and then his lips twitch as if he is trying hard to hold back laughter. Your tummy does a flip at the mischievous expression on Sukuna's face, slowly realizing that maybe what you did wasn't the smartest thing either. Maybe you shouldn't have picked a dance with the devil.

But it's too late. Sukuna smirks at you, the tip of his tongue playing with the pointy tip of one of his canines, a devilish, excited sparkle filling his maroon eyes,

"Okay, have it your way, brat."

And with that, Sukuna starts his car, flooring the gas pedal immediately, making you squeal loudly when you get pressed into your seat. Loud music blares from the car audio, and in the backseat, Yuuji and Todo chime a Tigers cheer, pumping each other up as if they are about to get on the ice, only contributing even more to the adrenaline-inducing atmosphere in the car.

You scramble to grab your seat belt and fasten it with sweaty fingers while you hear Sukuna's loud laughter. You wrap your hand around the grab handle, staring wide-eyed at the nightly street before you. Sukuna drives fast and recklessly, and to your horror, you see him take his hands off the steering wheel, steering with one knee so he can light a cigarette while driving.

"Sukuna!"

He smirks but puts a large hand lazily on the steering wheel, slowly drumming his fingers on it,

"Relax, princess. I am not going to crash my car and kill us all. I know what I am doing."

You roll your eyes at him when he turns his head to grin at you.

"You are such an idiot, Sukuna. I am going to kill you if this lands us in jail or in the ditch!"

But Sukuna just smirks even more broadly and brings his cigarette to his lips to take a deep drag and then blow the smoke in your face. But you have the feeling that the car isn't driving as fast anymore.

You sigh dramatically and hug yourself, snuggling into the car seat, watching the dark road ahead, refusing to look at Sukuna. Your lips twitch when you hear Yuuji and Todo sing along to the song playing on the stereo, one doing pretty well, the other hitting not a single note.

And after a while, your gaze strays again to the boy next to you.

Sukuna's long tattooed fingers, with the accurately applied black nail polish, tap the steering wheel in sync with the beat of the music. His other hand is resting on the open car window. Occasionally, he brings it to his lips to take a slow drag from his half-smoked cigarette. His lips move silently to the lyrics of the songs, his eyes trained on the road before him.

You have to admit that after the initial panic, you now feel pretty safe and relaxed here in Sukuna's car. He is actually a good driver, even though you will never tell him. And he looks very cool driving a car, so calm and confident, making your gaze stay glued to him. To his beautiful side profile with the angular jaw and the filigree tattoos, and those sultry lips wrapping so attractively around his cigarette.

You catch yourself almost enjoying the car drive, breathing in the cool night air and Sukuna's cigarette smoke, letting both calm you down.

But the relative calm is gone the moment Sukuna parks the car on the side of the road near the Bears' hockey arena. Your pulse is racing again, adrenaline filling your veins.

Sukuna turns to his linemates with a jerk of his chin.

"Okay, get your baseball bats and then smash that fucking thing!"

His maroon gaze lands on you,

"Slip into the driver's seat, princess."

You blink at him, caught off guard,

"What?"

"You'll be our getaway driver. The moment you see us coming back, you start the car."

He says it nonchalantly as if it is the most natural thing to demand.

"What the fuck, Sukuna?"

"You said you don't want us to get into trouble. So this is how you can help us avoid trouble. You will get our asses out of here, princess."

He flashes you one of his most charming grins and then exits the car, leaving you sitting there with your mouth opening and closing. But Sukuna points adamantly to the now vacant driver's seat.

You sigh exasperatedly, rolling your eyes, but you have to admit that Sukuna has a point. The last thing you want is to get caught because the boys take too long to start the car after returning from their stupid prank.

And so you take a deep breath and do as Sukuna says and climb into the driver's seat, squealing when you lose balance because Sukuna is so much taller than you, and his seat is practically in the back of the car, making you ask yourself how Yuuji even had space in the back. You curse and grab the steering wheel, pulling yourself and the seat further to the front so you can reach the gas pedal, while Sukuna watches you with a far too amused expression on his face.

You finally sit properly in the driver's seat, giving Sukuna a glare and a thumbs up, and he smirks at you,

"That's my lucky charm, helping me even on hockey duties outside the rink."

"Just go, and please try not to get caught!"

You watch the three hockey players jog toward their rivals' arena. All three of them are dressed completely in black with the hoods of their sweaters pulled up, their tall, broad figures blending with the darkness around them. They really look like a bunch of criminals with their baseball bats in their hands.

Fuck, how did I get myself into this?

You sigh and let your head fall back against the headrest of the car seat, breathing deeply in and out in an attempt to calm your nerves. The car smells like cigarette smoke and Sukuna's cologne, which is not really helping you calm down but instead makes your stomach flutter even more.

You nervously pick on your nails as you let your restless gaze wander through Sukuna's car. Black leather seats, which are worn but clean. An empty energy drink sits in the middle console next to a cigarette pack. Some protein bars peek out of the door pockets. Your gaze lands on the rearview mirror, and you spot a scented Hello Kitty head dangling from it. You stare at the cat's face for several long seconds, and suddenly, your lips twitch, and you giggle, pressing a hand over your mouth, unable to stop anymore.

Your nerves are on high alert the whole time while you wait in the car, your heart jumping to your throat anytime you hear the slightest noise while the occasional hysterical giggle escapes your mouth.

The minutes seem like hours as you nervously watch the darkness before you. And then you finally spot a movement in the darkness. You gasp and sit up straight, your hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as you squint your eyes.

Three tall, broad figures appear, running like madmen. You scramble to turn the key in the ignition, breath coming out in excited little huffs as the engine starts with a low hum right when the three boys reach the car.

They yank open the car doors, laughing and yelling. Yuuji and Todo pile into the back while Sukuna sprints around the car and lets himself fall onto the passenger seat, a wild grin on his tattooed face, eyes brimming with the same expression he has after scoring a goal,

"Drive, princess!"

He doesn't have to tell you twice. You press your foot down on the gas pedal, speeding down the road, eager to get away from the crime scene as fast as possible.

The music blares out of the speakers again, and the boys hoot with laughter and high-five each other, turning the car into some after-game celebration party, chaotic and loud, and your veins sing with adrenaline, making you drive even faster, and you can't help but feel a small grin tug at your lips.

You drive through the town, feeling like everyone must know that you have three players from the rival team in the car, and they just wrecked the local hockey team's ice sculpture.

You stop at a red light, heart pumping wildly in your chest, giving the woman in the car next to you a nervous little smile as she looks over at the black car with the loud music and the hockey boys, but your attention gets stolen by the pink-haired boy next to you.

Sukuna's large hand grabs your chin, making you turn your head to him, and he grins broadly at you, eyes sparkling with excitement and pride, and he leans closer, licking the side of your face, making you screech loudly. He laughs against your skin before he presses a loud smacking kiss on your cheek, which makes Yuuji and Todo in the back cheer and whistle loudly.

Sukuna pulls away again, laughing that sexy low laugh,

"Great job, partner in crime."

And finally, you can't hold back anymore and burst out laughing loudly, shaking your head and rolling your eyes,

"You are fucking crazy, Sukuna. All of you are crazy!"

And Sukuna smirks and cocks his head,

"But you like it."

The traffic light turns green at that moment, and you start driving again, finally feeling at ease. You can't help but grin broadly and turn the music up louder as you cruise through the town with a car full of hockey players. You have no idea when your hand ended up on Sukuna's thigh, but it stays there almost the whole drive back to campus.

Once you are back on your campus and have parked the car in front of Sukuna's dorm, the four of you get out of the car, and Yuuji and Todo give you high-fives and big grins. Todo nods appreciatively at you,

"You are a first-class getaway driver! I had my doubts about you when I saw you earlier, but my man Sukuna has shown me today that he has top-tier taste in women!"

You blink at Todo, not really knowing how to react, and end up just laughing and clapping his burly back before Yuuji grins at you and pulls you in a quick half-hug,

"That was amazing! Thank you for getting us away from there! Do you know that Sukuna usually never lets anyone drive his car? He punched me once when I took it to drive to the cinema."

"Yeah, because I know that you are a horrible driver."

Sukuna gives his twin a light smack on the back of his head, and you laugh, feeling bubbly from all the adrenaline still flowing through your veins. You can't stop the big smile from spreading over your face when you look at Sukuna. He watches you with his cat-like eyes, a lazy smirk on his tattooed face, looking far too pleased, but you can't be mad at him. Not when you feel so light-headed from your little adventure.

Yuuji and Todo bid their good nights, quickly leaving to return the baseball bats before someone notices they are missing. And you smile at Sukuna and tell him that you will walk back to your dorm now, too. Sukuna takes a step closer to you.

"I'll walk you home, princess. There are too many bad boys on the street at this time of night."

"You mean, like you?"

He just grins and falls in step beside you. You don't say it, but it tugs strangely at your heart that Sukuna refuses to let you walk alone at this hour of the night.

Sukuna lights a cigarette and then reaches out to put a strong arm around your shoulder and pull you against his side, making you smile and lean against him.

He teases you the whole way to your dorm about how worried you were and how your face had looked so stern and shocked when you tried to stop them from their plan. And you complain playfully about it, telling Sukuna that he and his linemates need a watchdog or some restraints to keep them out of trouble.

You finally stop in front of your dorm, and you pull away from Sukuna, letting his arm slowly glide down your shoulder. You instantly feel cold when Sukuna's warmth is gone, making you wrap your arms around yourself, but it isn't the same.

Sukuna grins at you while his cigarette dangles from the corner of his lips. And then he reaches out to put a large hand on your hair and ruffle it, maroon eyes sparkling teasingly in the light of the streetlamp, just waiting for the loud squeal of complaint he knows will come.

His large hand is still in your hair, but it cups the back of your head now, keeping you in place as Sukuna leans down. And then you feel his lips press a kiss to your forehead. A gesture that makes your eyelashes flutter because it's so uncharacteristically tender for a guy like Sukuna.

But the moment is over before you can really grasp it, and Sukuna pulls away, flashing you another boyish smirk before he turns around to walk back to his dorm. A tall, broad figure clad entirely in black with pastel pink hair and a little cloud of cigarette smoke billowing behind him.

And you stare after him with a wildly pounding heart, thinking that you haven't felt this alive in a long time.

It's Saturday evening, and you are bored, slowly sipping the drink in your hand while trying to pretend you are listening to the conversation going on in front of you. If things had gone your way, you would be in bed now, snuggled comfortably into Sukuna's soft, white hoodie, reading a book or watching a show. But Nobara was very adamant about going to this party in Maki's dorm.

"I am not walking in there on my own like some loser! You will come with me!"

And then she added, with a sneaky little grin,

"I heard that the hockey team will come too after they return from their away game."

You sighed and complained, but in the end, you played along and let Nobara drag you here.

But now you regret it. You aren't in a party mood tonight, and you don't know anyone except Nobara and Maki, who are busy making heart eyes at each other, making you feel like the third wheel.

A commotion at the door makes you turn your head, and you see several hockey players entering the apartment, getting high fives and claps on their backs for their win today. You can't help but crane your neck, waiting for pink hair and a smug smirk. But Sukuna is nowhere to be seen.

Your shoulders slump. You don't even know why you feel disappointed that he isn't here yet or maybe won't come at all. But somehow, the thought of having him here and being able to joke around with him had, for a second, been able to lift your mood. Maybe this boring party would have been enjoyable with Sukuna by your side.

You are about to leave for the kitchen to get another drink when your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, grinning when you see the text message.

Sukuna 🏒👑: Are you at the party, princess?

You: Yeah, I am here. Are you coming, too?

Sukuna 🏒👑: I'm already here.

You: I didn't see you. Where are you?

Sukuna 🏒👑: Come find me ;)

You chuckle softly to yourself as you lift your head to scan the room again. You excuse yourself from Nobara and Maki, deciding to wander around a bit and look for Sukuna.

Suddenly, the party doesn't seem so bad anymore. Your steps feel lighter, and you smile at the strangers you walk past. Your little tour through the apartment isn't successful, though. It's a mystery to you how a big guy like Sukuna is able to hide from you in this relatively small apartment. But then your gaze lands on the door that leads to the backyard.

Cold night air blows in your face as you stroll into the dimly lit backyard. And finally, you spot the pink hair you were looking for. Sukuna is leaning against a tree, a cigarette between his lips, smoking and looking bored.

You can't help but smile as you hurry over to him.

"Hey! What are you doing out here on your own?"

Sukuna huffs and rolls his pretty eyes,

"It's a boring ass party, plus I can't stand most people in there."

You raise an eyebrow at him, and his smirk grows bigger as he ruffles your hair and adds,

"With the exception of you, of course."

You laugh softly and shake his large hand off, smoothing down your hair as you look up at Sukuna's tattooed face and ask him,

"How was your game?"

"We won. Showed those fucking Bears what hockey is."

"Congrats! But how did they react to their smashed ice sculpture?"

You can't keep the slight worry out of your voice, but Sukuna laughs, eyes sparkling with amusement,

"They held a memorial event for it before the game started."

You chuckle, too.

"Do they know you guys did it?"

Sukuna shrugs, his smirk widening,

"I sure hope so. I would be insulted if they didn't."

He takes a deep drag from his cigarette, tilting back his head and slowly blowing the smoke out as he looks up at the night sky.

He looks beautiful, even though he has such an intimidating appearance with his face tattoos and his tall, broad figure.

Tonight, Sukuna isn't breaking into his rival team's hockey arena, but he still looks like someone who is up to no good with all his tattoos and his all-black clothes, a tight black t-shirt that shows off his firm pecs, and impressive biceps, and black cargo pants combined with combat boots. He looks like someone who would usually make you switch street sides if you saw him walking towards you at night.

But you know Sukuna now. You know that he is actually pretty nice if he wants to be. It's fun to be around him, and sometimes even peaceful, like tonight. Sukuna is definitely the only one you want to have by your side at this stupid party.

As if he heard your thoughts, Sukuna's gaze lazily wanders over your face, and he smirks softly.

"I'm not in the mood for that shitty party. Wanna leave?"

You answer him with a broad smile and a nod,

"Okay, let's go."

Sukuna flicks his half-smoked cigarette into the grass and jerks his head towards the fence behind him,

"We'll take that way, princess. Don't wanna run into my teammates."

And before you can point out that you are too unathletic and not tall enough to believe in your fence-climbing skills, Sukuna has already grabbed your hand and pulled you along.

Sukuna's hand is warm and strong and so much bigger than yours. Your pussy involuntarily clenches at the feel, making you silently curse yourself for having such a strong reaction to Sukuna's touch. But you don't have time to think about it because Sukuna's large hands are suddenly on your hips, lifting you off the ground as if you weigh nothing, just sending more flutters through your pussy and stomach.

He helps you climb over the fence and follows you a second later, climbing gracefully over it and landing safely on his feet on the other side as if it were nothing.

He jerks his chin in the direction of the main street.

"Let's get some coffee. I'm tired as fuck after the game."

You sit across from Sukuna, slowly stirring your coffee, snickering at the locker room gossip he shares with you. He shows you videos on his phone, barking with laughter when he presents to you The Bears reacting to their smashed ice sculpture.

You're the only guests in the small coffee shop on campus at this hour of the night. The lights are dimmed, and the barista has disappeared into the back of the shop. It's a peaceful, solemn atmosphere as if you and Sukuna have entered a parallel universe in which only the two of you exist.

And somehow, Sukuna seems different tonight, too. Softer. His playful smirk has softened into a genuine smile, and there's this unguarded, almost affectionate look in his eyes. Something you only caught glimpses of when he looks at his brother. But tonight, you get to see this look on Sukuna's face, too.

It makes you feel like you are invited to something special, where the Ice King lets his mask slip and allows a glance at the boy beneath the rough and arrogant attitude.

And suddenly, it hits you. Sukuna is your friend.

He allows you at his table in the dining hall and escapes from boring parties with you to sip coffee in the middle of the night. He lets you drive his car and allows you in his room and somehow decided he enjoys spending time with you, not just for sex, but for mundane things like having lunch together, or drinking coffee at midnight, or watching videos on his phone.

Sukuna let you in.

A smile spreads over your face, and you reach out to touch Sukuna's arm. Your touch is gentle, your fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on his wrist. Sukuna cocks his head, looking curiously at you, but he doesn't comment on it and just shows you the next video of his game against The Bears.

The two of you leave the coffeeshop together a while later, and Sukuna elbows you gently,

"Wanna come over to my place? I haven't gotten my victory fuck yet."

And you laugh and hit his tattooed biceps playfully, even as you agree with a soft nod and a big grin before you loop your arm around Sukuna's and lean onto him while you walk back to his dorm.

You spend the next thirty minutes under Sukuna, getting railed into his bed, your fingernails leaving scratches on his muscular back, while he pounds into you with those delicious, hard, deep thrusts.

He rolls off you afterward but doesn't get up, and neither do you. You just stay there lying next to each other, your shoulders touching, watching more videos on Sukuna's phone.

Until your phone beeps and you see a message from Nobara,

"Where are you?"

"Don't worry, I am okay. I left the party. Sorry, forgot to text you."

"It's okay, but you didn't answer the question? Where are you? Omg, wait, are you with the curse?"

You laugh, and Sukuna raises an eyebrow. You show him the text, and he huffs, a large tattooed hand darting out to quickly grab the phone out of your hand. Before you can even react, Sukuna has already typed a reply:

"She's in his bed, actually."

You scream and try to pluck your phone from Sukuna's large hand, wrestling with him for it on his bed until you end up in his lap, straddling him, both of you laughing breathlessly.

Sukuna grins up at you and lets the phone drop onto his pillow and instead grabs your hips with both hands, flipping you over on your back, making you squeal and giggle while his lips trail kisses down your neck, and your hands tangle in his soft, pink hair. He pushes your legs apart, lowering his tall, buff body on yours, his half-hard cock rubbing against your tummy, and your body instantly reacts to him too. Your legs wrap around Sukuna's hips, pulling him closer, your hips lifting, welcoming his hardening cock between your wet pussy lips, telling him wordlessly to take you a second time.

Yes, Sukuna is your friend. Your friend, who also gives you damn good dick.

PLEASE, THEY ARE SO SWEET 😭😭

I wanted to show the friendship aspect of the whole fuckbuddies thing in this chapter, and I hope you liked it! I am a sucker for friends to lovers, and I am screaming into my hand when I imagine Sukuna letting Reader in and letting her see behind his mask!!

I want to say thank you to all of you who read this story and leave sweet feedback in the comments and tags or send me nice asks! I realized once again this week that writing a multi-chapter fic is super stressful BUT also so beautiful because I can experience this whole process with all of you 💗 It's such a nice feeling that we are experiencing this story and the developing romance together. THANK YOU SO MUCH!! This is really what fandom is about for me.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

If you commented on the masterpost, I will add you to the taglist, btw. I will reblog the story several times with the different taglists. Thank you so much for being invested in this fic 💗

In Chapter 7 Reader will get a private ice skating lesson with Hockey Player!Sukuna.

[etheraltides]

BITTER SWEET ᥫ᭡࿔

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x kook!thornton!Reader

Summarize: Rafe Cameron, a rising name in the business world, desperately needs a date for the wedding of the year. With a major investment deal on the line and his image at stake, he finds himself reluctantly turning to the last person he ever expected for help: Topper’s little sister, a girl he’s bickered with since he could remember.

Warning(s): cursing, Rafe being Rafe.

A/N: English isn’t my first language and I did my best to edit it all - so if something escaped me, please, let me know. Feedback is more than welcome .ᐟ

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ Chapter two: shopping for disaster ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

Rafe Cameron sat in his car outside Topper's house, the black SUV gleaming under the midday sun. He glanced at his watch for the third time in less than ten minutes, annoyance bubbling beneath the surface. Rafe had dismissed all his meetings in the afternoon and a few in the morning to make sure he'd be there in time so she wouldn't have an excuse to back away from it. He hadn't expected her to take her sweet time, but he should have known better.

Rafe should've known you weren't be civil even if you accepted it. Which, to be honest, still surprised him. He was ready to have the door slammed on his face but it seems not even you could say no to some easy money.

His phone buzzed with a text and for a moment, he thought it was saying you'd be down in five, but it was just Topper reminding him about their gym session tomorrow morning, having no idea what his best friend and sister were plotting behind his back. He sighed, shifting in his seat, the leather creaking under his movements in a way that had his annoyance growing. Why was it taking so long for you to get ready? You weren’t going for some fashion show, just to buy stuff downtown.

"Fucking bitch" Rafe muttered under his breath, hitting the horn a couple of times. He was already regretting all of this. The longer he sat there, the more the idea of bringing you as his fake girlfriend felt like a terrible decision. You'd probably jump at every chance to mess with him like you were doing now.

Just as he was about to give up and head home to, hopefully, contact a few clients, he spotted a car pulling up. He hadn't seen this one around before and by the low price, it surely wasn't your family’s. From the rearview mirror, he saw the loser push his aviators up, leaning in to kiss the girl. Rafe's stomach twisted as Topper's sister slid out, your hair tousled and a satisfied smile playing on your lips. Gross.

The sight of her closing the passenger door sent a jolt of irritation through him, mixed with something he couldn't quite identify. You looked carefree, laughing at something the guy said, and for a moment, Rafe felt like an intruder on a private scene he had no right to witness.

"Seriously?" he muttered under his breath, slamming closed the door of his truck. Were you hooking up while he was waiting in the sun?

You turned around towards the voice, your smile fading when you caught sight of him. His jaw clenched and his gaze sharp.

"Rafe?" you asked, surprise etching your features as you adjusted the strap of your bag, the casual air of confidence slipping slightly. You hadn't noticed his car when the touron parked. "You're early."

If Topper heard about this, you'd be dammed. You had told him you'd be sleeping over a friend.

"Or you're late.” he replied, crossing his arms, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. "What was that all about?"

Your brows furrowed, the glint in your eyes replaced by defensiveness. "I had... plans. Not that it's any of your business."

"Plans? Is that what you call it?" Rafe shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface as he ran a hand through his buzzcut. "You said we'd leave at noon. Did you really think it was okay to keep me waiting while you were off with some random douchebag? I fucking canceled my meetings to be here on time because you wanted to go shopping for shit!''

"As if you care, idiot." you snapped, the challenge in your voice clear. "I'm doing you a favor, remember? You have no right to question me about my plans and he wasn't a douchebag."

"Because I thought you'd have some decency!" he countered, irritation lacing his tone as he struggled to keep his voice down, walking closer to you. He points towards the car was minutes ago. "That asshole didn't even open the door for you when he dropped you off."

"Well, it was better than sit around and wait for you!" you shot back, an eyebrow raised defiantly as you wrapped your hair in a messy bun, feeling too hot from all this arguing in the sun. "It's not like you're the perfect image of being on time."

He shook his head, trying to tamp down the rising anger and something deeper that he always refused to acknowledge. "Let's just go, alright?" he muttered, opening the passenger door for you with an exaggerated sight.

You arched a brow, starring at him while he stood there with the door held open, for you. Whatever. You shook your head, clenching your jaw as you moved to the passenger seat, only to realize a second too late that you needed to change into something… well, better. The door was already slammed closed and Rafe was already on his seat.

Rafe started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. The radio was off and you had your arms crossed over your chest, looking to the window with an almost unnotiaciable pount on your lips. He didn't even give you time to shower and change. How could you go shopping in a t-shirt and jean shorts? Rude. Brute.

"Do you even have a plan for this?" you asked after a few minutes in silence, watching the front of the boutiques.

"Yeah, I figured we'd just wing it" he replied, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Did Topper know you were hanging around with broken tourons now? If not, he'd make sure to tell him later.

"Wing it? You're kidding, right?" you laughed, but the sound had a sharp edge. A superiority that crawled under his skin. "People love to gossip at these events. If we just act like we're a couple, someone will definitely ask questions."

"Fine." he snapped, annoyance dripping in his voice as he parked the car in front of one of the many expensive stores of the island. "What do you suggest then, Mrs. Director of Fake Dates."

He hopped off the car and you rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag. You muttered a thank you as he opened the door for you, stopping in the sidewalk.

"Where did you say the wedding was again?" you furrowed your brows, not really remembering this piece of information. "Well, anyway. We need a backstory. Something believable. How about we say we've known each other since we were kids? You're my brother best friend. We had a falling out last summer and decided to give it another shot. Cliché. People eat that shit."

"Italy" He shrugged, following you as you decided which store would be first. You stopped in your tracks, looking at him with arched brows.

"Did you just say Italy as if in Europe?" you blinked, taking a deep breath as you nodded at yourself.

“How many fucking Italies do you know?” He snorted as his head turned to look at you, dumbfounded. You forced a smile, showing him the middle finger.

"Don't worry. It's just for one weekend, I told you." He held open the door of the boutique you stopped in front of, pushing you inside by the shoulder. "Let's keep the details of the story short, alright? The less people know, the better.”

“All right, Mr. Boring. Time to find me a dress that won’t embarrass you.”

Rafe followed you inside, mentally preparing himself for the impending chaos. The store was bright and stylish, filled with an array of dresses and heels. You immediately dove into the racks, pulling out pieces in vibrant colors and flowing fabrics, not sparring him a second glance.

Fuck, he could already feel his pockets hurting.

“Help me out here,” you called over your shoulder, an armful of dresses piled high. “You’ve got baby arms but let’s see if they can handle this.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he picked up a few dresses. “I don’t have baby arms,” he retorted, but the smirk on his face betrayed his amusement. Baby arms, really?

“Are you serious right now?” you teased, glancing back at him with a playful challenge in your eyes. “Maybe I should get you my workout plan instead of a dress.”

He shot you a glare, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a reluctant smile before he caught himself. “Just get what you need, and I’ll carry it, but don’t expect me to play your little games.”

You grinned, the mischievous light in your eyes making his heart race. Because you were infuriating. “Oh, but you’re going to play. It’s part of the deal.”

You’d already been through several rounds of dresses - each one met with a casual nod or a half-hearted comment from Rafe as he scrolled on his phone. A sleek black gown had caught his eye for a moment, and the deep red one had nearly made him lose his cool, but he managed to keep his reactions under control. He wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction of knowing just how much he was affected. You already were infuriating enough without him feeding your ego.

But then you stepped out in a blue dress. It wasn’t just any blue dress—it clung to you figure like it was made for you, the fabric flowing and shimmering as you walked. It hugged your figure perfectly, accentuating you curves in a way that made his breath hitch. The neckline dipped just enough to draw the eye, and the slit running from the edge of the dress to the top of you thigh was nothing short of provocative. Rafe felt his heart race, an unfamiliar heat burning in his veins.

He caught himself staring, quickly snapping his gaze back up to your face. Get it together, Cameron. She was annoying, infuriating, and the last person he should be looking at like that. Yet here he was, shifting in his seat, a strange heat building in his chest as you spun around and gave him a look that practically dared him to say something.

“What do you think?” you asked, your voice teasing but soft, as if you already knew the effect the dress was having on him.

He cleared his throat, trying desperately to summon one of his usual sarcastic remarks. “It’s… fine,” he managed, though his voice didn’t carry its usual edge.

You tilted your head, eyes gleaming with amusement as you starred at him through the mirror. “Fine? Just fine?” You pouted and turned around. You stepped closer, and he could feel the air between you grow thicker. “You’re not even looking.”

“I’m looking,” he muttered, his eyes betraying him again by glancing down at your legs before he moved it to his phone. He hated how easy it was for you to get under his skin. Every part of him was screaming to look away, to say something snarky and put you in her place, but for once, he couldn’t find the words. You looked too good. He hated it.

“No witty comeback? Wow, I’m impressed,” you teased, taking another step forward, the fabric of the dress shifting with your movement in a way that only drew his attention more.

He swallowed hard, doing his best to remember why you annoyed him so much. You’re frustrating. You’re a pain. He forced himself to think of every little thing you’d ever done to irritate him, but the sight of you in that dress made it nearly impossible.

“At least you’re as hot as you are annoying,” he finally muttered under his breath, shaking his head in a vain attempt to hide the fact that his pulse was racing.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly delighted with his response. A surprise chuckle escaped your lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Rafe huffed, trying to regain some composure. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, though the slight crack in his voice betrayed him.

“Too much for your business crowd?” you asked, spinning around in front of the mirror, your tone laced with amusement.

“Nah, you’ll fit right in,” he said, though his mind was screaming the opposite. Too much. Way too much. Too much for his own sake.

As you turned back to the mirror, adjusting the slit in the dress, Rafe allowed himself one more glance, feeling a mix of frustration and something else bubble up inside him. He preferred you when you were just annoying.

“I’m not carrying you out when those heels become too much,” he tossed out, trying to steer the conversation back into a safer territory.

You laughed, not missing a beat. “Don’t worry, I can handle myself. But it’s nice to know you’re concerned.”

“Concerned?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “More like I just don’t want you slowing me down.”

But as you disappeared back into the fitting room, he leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair in frustration. You were supposed to be his best friend’s little infuriating sister helping him with this. Yet with every passing second, it felt like you were becoming something else entirely. He couldn’t shake the way his gaze lingered on you, how he was beginning to dread the moment you’d step out of his line of sight. When did you turn human and stopped being a complete bitch?

Maybe it’s just been too long since Rafe got laid. Yeah, that was right. Between throwing his dad’s ashes and building a name for himself in the business world, Rafe barely had time to find some release. He’d fix it tonight.

Rafe was already at the counter, signing off on the receipt for all the dresses you’d tried on and decided that would be used in the weekend. His jaw clenched as he tried to ignore the numbers.

“Well, that was fun,” you quipped, an exaggerated smile as you leaned next to him, telling the lady that he’d be carrying all the bags.

Rafe shot you a look, muttering, “Fun? For you, maybe.”

“Come on, Rafe,” you teased, “one of the conditions for me agreeing to this whole thing was that you pay for everything.”

He scoffed, sliding his black card back into his wallet. “Yeah, trust me, I’m well aware. Still doesn’t make it any less painful.”

“Don’t be such a baby. We’re practically made of money,” you said, glancing at the bags filled with dresses for the wedding weekend. “Besides, you should be thanking me. You’re the one getting something out of this.”

“Yeah, I’m getting a headache.”

You rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully - a bit too hard. “You’re so dramatic.”

He offered you the fakest smile you’ve ever seen before shoving half of the bags to you.

As you stepped out into the street, Rafe hesitated. Against his better judgment, he found himself saying, “You hungry?”

You blinked, clearly surprised. “Why, Rafe Cameron, are you actually offering to buy me food after spending all that cash on dresses?”

“Don’t push it,” he grumbled, starting to walk toward a small café nearby. “But since we’re supposed to be convincing everyone at this wedding, we might as well figure out the rules over lunch.”

You followed, a surprised smirk playing on your lips. “Rules? You mean besides the one where you’re my personal ATM for the weekend?”

“Yeah, that one too,” he said dryly as they found a table outside the café, placing the bags down not so gently.

You sat down, menus in hand, and for a brief moment, they both seemed content to sit in silence. Until you broke it.

“Okay, so first rule,” you glanced up from the menu. “No kissing.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Why would think I’d kiss you? I’m not desperate”

“We can hold hands, lean in, whatever. But no actual kissing,” you insisted, tone firm. “This is strictly business.”

“We can hold hands, lean in, whatever. But no actual kissing,” she insisted, her tone firm. “This is strictly business.”

“Strictly business, huh?” He smirked, shaking his head. “You say that, but you’ll be the one swooning if we get too close.”

You let out a laugh, clearly unimpressed. “Please, Cameron, if you were half as charming as you think you are, you wouldn’t need a fake girlfriend in the first place.”

“Oh, I’m charming enough. You’re just stubborn and blind.” He leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “Admit it - you’re at least a little curious what it’d be like.”

Your smile faltered just for a second before it was replaced with a disgusted face, “Curious? About you? Only to see how much more annoying you can get.”

Rafe’s gaze flickered down to your legs as you shifted in the seat, his jaw tightening as he caught himself. Annoying. Infuriating. But damn if you’re not hot, he thought, biting back a comment. His expression hardened, trying to snap himself out of it. He really needed to get laid, quickly.

You crossed your arms, leaning forward a little. “Second rule: no jealous boyfriend act. I don’t need you scaring off guys at the wedding.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Why would I be jealous? Get over yourself.”

“Yeah, okay,” you leaned back in your chair. “Just remember, this isn’t real. No need for the possessive act.”

“I got it. Fake dating. No jealousy,” he repeated, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“And no trying to use this as an excuse to annoy me,” you added with a pointed look. “Topper won’t be knowing about this. Ever.”

Rafe barked out a laugh. “Annoy you? That’s practically the only fun part of this arrangement.”

“Right, because you’re soooo fun to be around,” you shot back, rolling your eyes dramatically.

“Look, just follow my lead, alright? I’ll make sure we don’t look like complete idiots in front of my business associates,” he said, picking up his menu.

“I’m not the one who looks like an idiot,” you muttered under your breath, pretending to read the menu.

He snorted, clearly hearing you, but chose not to respond. The air was filled with silence again as they waited for the waiter.

Finally, you set your menu down and locked eyes with him. “Okay, but one more thing.”

“What now?” he asked, exasperated.

“No flirting with other girls while we’re there. I’m not covering for you if you get caught in some hotel scandal.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, half amused and half annoyed. “Please. I should’ve known you were the jealous type.”

“Oh, sure,” your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just stick to the plan, Rafe. We get in, play our parts, and get out without embarrassing ourselves. You can handle that, right?”

Rafe leaned in slightly, his smirk still in place. “I don’t know, princess. You seem pretty good at embarrassing yourself. Might be contagious.”

You glared at him but couldn’t hold back a small smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re still here, so what does that say about you?”

You opened you mouth to respond, ready say that it made you the kindest person in the world, but the waiter returned just in time to take your orders. As you waited for the waitress to come back with your order, you pulled your phone to scroll, had seen enough of Rafe’s face for the afternoon.

You tried to think of the best way to survive this fake dating arrangement with as little emotional damage as possible for one weekend. Maybe you’d end up killing each other first.

“Can you…” you took a deep breath, nibbling on your bottom lip while you looked around before meeting his gaze. “Not tell Topper about what you’ve seen earlier?”

“The douchebag?” Rafe arched a brow, his jaw tensing as he remembered the encounter, your hair tousled.

“He isn’t a douchebag but yeah, that.” you let out a long sigh, sipping on your juice.

“I’ll think about it. Let’s see how you will do during the wedding, huh.” He offered you one of these smug smirks that made you want to punch his face. Of course he wouldn’t make things easy for you.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ TAGLIST: @megiiite @melsunshine @maybankslover @wearemadeofstardust0 @lilithblackkk

[singmyaubade]

OKAY OKAY idk if you still do Eddie Munson if not it's fine but I just ended a situationship/fwb with a rude white boy, I lowk wanna see a fanfic. where Eddie has this relationship with reader, then he flirts with someone else and takes them to bed, and reader is just heartbroken,and gets revenge

toxic!eddie munson x female!reader

summary: you think I’d let him destroy me and end up happier than ever? no fucking way. he doesn’t get to win.

warnings: smut! 18+, cursing, very much angst, arguing, mature content, etc..

a/n: wow, you actually got me out of hibernation with this one. i haven't wrote eddie in a long time so bear with me but since fuckboys very much PISS ME OFF, i had to do you a solid and i hope you enjoy! as always, apologize if you hate this.

Your relationship with Eddie was not something that you could explain in a few short words. Of course, it was complex, complicated, difficult, angering, loving, warm.... But again, not something you could name with a few short words.

It had been about three months ago when you caught Eddie staring at your ass while you were playing dodgeball and he was sitting at the bleachers.

He had that sly smile on and his back leaning on one of the levels on the bleachers, staring at you intently. Not only was it enough to catch your attention but enough for you to keep looking.

All it took was a wink and a few whispers in the locker room for you to be hooked. But after, Eddie had made it clear with you that he wasn't ready to be in a relationship.

Eddie kissed your neck while his grip on your neck was harsh, "Listen baby, I want this so fucking bad but I'm not ready for somethin' serious," He whispered but the trance you were in only had you saying,

"Uh-huh,"

And since then, you had been stuck in a friends with benefits situation with Eddie Munson.

It wasn't the worse thing in the world but sometimes, it never felt the best. I mean, it wasn't like Eddie was an asshole who didn't care about you after you fucked or did anything. He would always cuddle you or clean you up when you felt tired.

He would always let you vent to him, give you kisses, and make you laugh. Those were the times when you felt like you could be more with him.

And then there would be times where he talked about Stacey Callahan's ass with a sly smile and glint in his eye, almost making you want to stab him.

You would shoot daggers into him but he would never notice because he considered you a friend.

And you could never tell him your real feelings because then you guys would be nothing and that seemed like a worse fate.

But at least, he never made an actual pass at girls in front of you and from what he had told you, he hasn't fucked anyone since you and him had started.

And that made you feel like you could be more.

But you were afraid you spoke too soon when you were trying to find Eddie and saw him and Caroline Blaren making out under the bleachers.

His hand groping her ass and her moans echoing throughout the gym. If it wasn't for the fact that it was after school, almost half the school population would've been cursed with this sight.

His mouth leaving hot kisses on her neck as he did with you a multitude of times, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as she giggled.

For the first time in your life, you had felt as if your heart had shattered.

A part of you wanted to make a scene, maybe go batshit crazy and curse Eddie to the brink of eternity and then the other part of you wanted to walk away, realize that you were worth more than someone who you thought cared for your feelings or for you at all.

Before you could leave the gym and maybe cry in a corner, Eddie locks eyes with you and smiles before he excuses himself and tells Caroline to wait under the bleachers.

She scoffs a little bit but twirls her hair as she stands there, mugging you.

You still have a shocked expression as Eddie approaches you, grinning ear to ear,

"I know I said we were gonna meet today but," He shyly cheers, "I've been trying to bag this for months and I really need this, Y/N, we can meet tomorrow though," He says as if this was casual.

You blinked at him as he awkwardly laughed at your expression, "Earth to Y/N?" He waved his hand in your face as you closed your mouth and swallowed.

You did your best to form a smile, "Uh- yeah sure,"

He cheered, kissing you on the cheek, "You're the best, I owe you one," He winked at you before going back to Caroline.

He put his arm around her shoulder before exiting the other way of the gym.

You couldn't believe that you let Eddie Munson break your heart.

There were multiple thoughts entering your head the sight of this.

One was that you were a complete idiot and let Eddie Munson play you like a fiddle. The second was that he had never taken you seriously. The third was that you needed to make him feel as you did.

And maybe it was petty for you to feel like you needed revenge but you couldn't let Eddie get away with making multiple girls feel this way,

Harmless to him but cruel to you.

And now you had to make him pay which you knew wasn't going to be easy.

Making Eddie Munson jealous was one of those things that was damn near impossible. He always prided himself in being as 'chill as a cucumber, when it came to his love life.

You had never seen him get jealous once and you didn't even think it was a feeling to him.

But you did know Eddie hated being ignored.

You remembered when he jokingly called your ass flat and you ignored him for an hour before he looked like he was on the brink of tears.

That was the one sore sport of his that you knew of and it certainly wouldn't hurt to use it to your advantage.

So when Eddie had called you that very night, you answered but not with the same eagerness you always had,

"Hello?" You answered, holding the telephone up to your ear.

"Hey Y/N," You heard Eddie's voice on the other side of line, voice excited.

You swallowed before answering back flatly, "Hi,"

He sounded surprised at your tone but didn't mention it, "Jus' wondering if you wanted to come over, Caroline just left,"

Your blood felt like it was boiling. It was as if he wanted a snack to go with his meal which only pissed you off more and it had been six hours, he had been fucking Caroline for six hours.

"I can't," You said, concealing your anger.

He sounded astonished, "Uh, why not?"

"Busy," You replied, annoyed.

You could feel your vagueness starting to worry him, "Busy with what?" He said snarkily.

"Stuff," You scoffed.

When did Eddie care so much about what you were doing? Maybe once he realized you wouldn't be at his beck and call any longer.

He took a breath, "What about tomorrow?" He asked, hoping your answer would be different.

"I'm busy, Eddie," You snapped.

There was silence on the other line for a few seconds that felt like decades before he replied again, "Is something wrong?" He asked, the worry present in his voice.

"No, I really can't talk right now, I'll see you later," You said quickly, putting the phone back on the link before he could answer.

You sighed, trying your best to feel as if this was the best decision. Of course, you knew ignoring Eddie wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world but you didn't expect it to be the hardest either.

Once Eddie gets fixated, there's not really a way to get him off the case.

And that turned out to be a fact when you saw him at school the next morning,

"Y/N," Someone grabbed your arm, pulling you in the custodian closet.

You made a surprised sound before realizing it was Eddie, "Jesus, I thought you were a murderer," You said, releasing your arm from his grip.

He ignored your joke, locking his eyes into your eyes, "What's up with you?" He asked.

You gulped, "I don't know what you're talking about,"

He scoffed, "You fucking dodged me on the phone,"

You rolled your eyes, "I told you I was busy,"

"You've literally let me eat you out before you had an huge exam in the next hour so that's a load of crap," He replied as you gawked, "So tell me what's actually up,"

You moved your jaw to the side, looking away as Eddie fumed in front of you.

You were lost for words but this didn't stop Eddie from waiting for answer so you gave one,

"I'm done fucking you,"

Eddie looked shocked, lost for words, he almost seemed as if he was having a stroke. He snapped out of his trance by laughing, "Are you serious?"

Your demeanor didn't change, "Deadly."

He bit his lip, almost wanting to laugh because this had to be a joke, "Baby, thats a big decision," His chest was against yours at this point, "Are you sure about this?" He asked, his breath whispering against your ear.

You could feel yourself breathing harder and a bit turned on but you knew this cycle wouldn't end if you didn't stop it. You pushed against his chest as he stepped backwards, "I'm done Eddie." You stated, walking out of the closet and leaving him in there.

You took a deep breath before walking to your class, it was hard to believe that you had just rejected Eddie and that he didn't utterly make you regret it.

You sat in class as you watched Eddie come on minutes after, always arriving after the bell. You could feel the tension radiating off you both but he didn't care to take a glimpse of you, his hard expression already telling enough.

You eyed him as he sat down next to you, a shocked expression on your face. Eddie had never sat down next to you in classes or let alone even show up.

You could already tell he was about to start fucking with you.

As Ms. Rodriguez started her lesson, you started to feel a fingertip tracing your knee as you swallowed. You looked at Eddie but he kept his hard expression, not even a smirk forming.

You watched him as his finger rose higher, almost at the hem of your skirt.

There was something in you that wanted to let him, maybe get your last taste Eddie before it was over forever but if you did this, it would never be over.

You knew this was Eddie trying to win and you couldn't let him.

In a flash, you grabbed his hand which caused him to finally look at you and you slammed it into his own lap. He looked furious and you felt a small victory as he pushed out his chair and stormed out while Ms. Rodriguez yelled for him to come back.

—————

The bell rang as you went towards the cafeteria, going to sit with the mutual friends you shared with Eddie.

Ever since you and Eddie had started hooking up, he had introduced you to his friends and you didn't actually mind sitting with them. They would always banter in front of you which always made you giggle and it was never superficial with them.

Usually, you would've sat next to Eddie but since shit hit the fan, you took a seat next to Gareth.

You saw Eddie shooting daggers into your soul but you kept your composure and ignored him.

You could hear them arguing over something about D&D which only made you laugh before Gareth noticed you, "Hey Y/N!" He beamed as you smiled.

"Hey Gareth, what are you guys talking about?" You asked, looking at him.

Gareth grinned, ready to start his tangent, "Oh so basically, we were talking about if Paladin or the Monk had more of a power bu-"

Eddie cut him off, "What are you doing?" He asked, looking at you as the table went silent.

You steamed, "What are you talking about?"

He began his theatrics, "I mean did I say you could sit here?" The whole table looked between you and him, there had never been one argument between you and Eddie, let alone one in front of them.

You sneered, "Why would I not be allowed to sit here?" You asked, wanting to kill Eddie for doing this in front of everyone.

"Well because, you don't belong here," He said, nonchalantly.

You laughed, "I don't belong here?" Your eyes were locked onto his, anger present in them.

"Yeah," He smirked which only made your blood boil.

"So since I'm sucking your dick anymore, I can't sit here?" You questioned, causing the entire table to gasp.

You weren't planning to reveal that you and Eddie had fucked several times but since he was really trying to get under you, there was no other choice.

"You can't sit here because nobody wants you here, Princess," He said, hatefully.

You looked at everyone around the table but they kept their gazes low, not wanting to go against Eddie.

Eddie was expecting pure anger to come out of you or maybe you would have to reconcile with him and you guys could go back to how you were but instead, you had gotten up and a smile was present on your face.

"I think I'm actually gonna sit with Jason," You slyly said as Eddie felt enraged, "I think that's a dick I actually would like to suck," You grabbed your tray heading over to jock table.

It wasn't exactly the best plan considering you hated Jason but Jason had been trying to get under you for years and this was the only way to get under Eddie's skin.

Your skirt rose up as you blinked dumbly at Jason sitting next to him, "Hi Jason," You sweetly said as he grinned from ear to ear.

"Y/N, what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked, him eyeing your body.

"I was wondering if you could teach me a few things about basketball at yours, I've got a research project," You said, fingers grazing his thigh.

It was not your best effort at being seductive but it was enough to get Jason Carver.

"I think I could help with that, mine at seven?" He said as you nodded.

You turned your back to see Eddie staring at you, more mad than you had ever seen him.

He was jealous.

And this was only the beginning.

[lorasdolly]

sevika, ambessa or vi can you do virgin reader who is like squirmy maybe some tears

𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚔𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢

You had asked Sevika to take your virginity because you trusted her most. She was your girlfriend and although it's been months and you still haven't had sex, she's been patient about. Said she doesn't mind taking care of herself.

Yet, today you were so needy, ovulating and demanding. You could feel how your panties stuck to your cunt, showcasing the need for your girlfriend. Every time she did anything, it turned you on even more.

When she was making breakfast in a wife-pleaser, holding your hand on the way to the gym, groaning and drying her wet hair with only a towel wrapped around her waist. You had seen her naked plenty of times, feeling desperate at the sight of her nude but never this much.

You knew it wasn't smart to make big decisions on a short notice, but your pussy wouldn't forgive you if you didn't let her fuck you already!

She was insisting on making sure you were certain about doing this, even while undressing you. She'd furrow her brows and look up at you, "You sure baby?" All you would do is nod your head and tug at her hair, not fond of the anticipation that came about you.

But once she finally got her hands on you, she began to ravage you.

Sevika held your body down tenderly, sighing as the tears welled in your eyes from being overwhelmed and anxious. She shushes you gently, wiping the tears with her thumb as she presses her digits from her other hand inside you.

You whine more, "I, I can't take it, 'Vika!" Your complaining makes her huff softly, kissing your tear-ridden cheek. She curls her fingers upwards, tips pressing against your gspot and using this as a chance to stretch you out more. Your hymen tore when she inserted two of her fingers, only ever using your clit to stimulate yourself.

"You can take it, you told me you could take it if I went slowly, baby." She coos, quickening the pace of curling her two digits. Your back arched off the mattress, moaning and slightly trying to get away from you. She tuts at that, bring her hand to circle your throat gently and keep you close. She hardly applied pressure on your throat, only treating you with upmost care.

"Don't run from it, 'kay?" You nod at her advice, nails digging into her shoulder as she pumped her fingers in and out of you. "Hng— 'Vika," She chuckled and kissed down your neck, biting softly. She was amused by the squelching noise, the way your slick gathered up and formed a white ring on her digits.

"Agh– 'Vika, weird knot in my tummy–!" You exclaimed, crying and squirming under her. It felt so good yet so foreign, you weren't sure how to react to this kind of stimulation. She supported and stabilized your body, fucking her fingers sloppily into your sopping cunt.

She observed how you clenched around them, "Greedy girl, y'know I need these back, hm?" She taunted, receiving a cute whine she yearned for so deeply. She responded with a mocking pout and just kept her movements going consistently. "You're about to cum baby, that's the weird feeling in your tummy,"

Her hand on your throat came to caress your tummy, not pumping her finger in and out but instead ramming them repeatedly into your g-spot. You whined, borderline filthy as you came around her fingers. "No more— 'Vika!"

She didn't stop there, slowing her fingers but still fucking you to help you ride the high. When she pulled out her fingers with a nasty squelching noise, you covered your face in embarrassment.

She chuckled and took your hands off your face, "Don't be ashamed, was so pretty doing that baby." She reassured, holding you against her body as the tears came to a slow halt and resulted in only sniffles,

"Thank you, 'Vika" You murmured sweetly into her neck, a soft sigh leaving her parted lips as she coddled you. "Glad it was you." You whispered.

[hannieehaee]

Please i just want to read a smut about having a rough sex with hoshi because he's jealous when he heard his gf got confessed by her male friend. 👉👈 (It would be nice if he won't stop even if you cry in pain, saying that it's a punishment) (Just skip this if you're uncomfortable..)

18+ / mdi

content: jealous!soonyoung, smut, established relationship, he acts a little toxic but not that much, rough sex but completely consensual, afab reader, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1807

a/n: thank u for the request!!

masterlist

"babe, can i borrow your phone? i left mine in my gym bag and i'm too lazy to go get it," soonyoung mumbled as he laid down on your lap, hair being played with and thoroughly comfortable.

"yeah, here," you handed it to him without much thought.

neither of you had a tendency to go through each other's phones, but you had exchanged passwords and were very casual about picking up the other's phones whenever you felt like it. there was too much trust between you to really overthink these things. which wad why you had no issue giving him your phone while he didn't have his own at hand.

soonyoung laid there for a while, perusing instagram and other social medias while you read an ebook, holding it with one hand while playing with his hair with the other. you didn't pay much mind to him while you entertained yourself with your story, and the same could be said about him.

the calm silence accompanied by some show playing in the background was interrupted mere minutes later by a characteristically loud gasp from soonyoung.

"babe, who the hell is this loser?", he asked, rushing to sit up beside you and showing you your phone.

"hm? who?" you barely looked up from your book as he pressed to your side.

"some loser. cooper," he huffed.

on screen was a conversation he'd seemingly pulled up, with the name 'cooper coworker' displayed at the top. it took a few seconds for it to dawn on you what you were looking at.

"oh. that's just my coworker. why? what'd he say?", you didn't care too much about the conversation, but you were slightly curious as to why soonyoung had pulled it up. it wasn't really like him to check your messages.

"the notification just popped up so i went on it, sorry," he was sheepish about it before fully handing you the phone, letting you take a look at the conversation in question, "but, uh, what does he mean by this?"

there were a few prior messages to the newer ones, which were all from different time stamps and very tame in nature, usually just being shift trades or confirmations about work projects. the final few were the ones soonyoung had accidentally intercepted before you could check.

from: cooper coworker

hey can we talk about what happened the other day?

the first one was tame enough, suddenly reminding you of what'd happened a few weeks back, but the poor boy practically vibrating next to you made you opt to keep reading before clarifying the situation to him.

from: cooper coworker

i just wanted to see if you'd reconsider. i'd really like to take you out

i felt like you were just dismissing me with the whole boyfriend thing. i asked belinda and she said she's never seen you with any guy

anyways my offer for dinner's still up if you wanna

it amused you for the most part. the original interaction had been so tame and forgettable you'd completely disregarded the whole thing as soon as it happened.

cooper wasnt someone you saw on a daily basis, so his name hadnt registered when soonyoung had told you who the message was from. when he came up to you to ask if you'd like to have dinner, you were slightly surprised, not entirely sure of who he was. the easiest thing to say in response was that you had a boyfriend and werent interested (which was very much the truth). he had simply nodded in response and mostly taken it like a champ.

you wish you could say that his insistence surprised you, but it was a classic guy move. to act nonchalant at rejection only to come back ten times as insistent as before.

the situation made you wanna roll your eyes and just block him, but you guessed that maybe soonyoung would want an explanation sometime soon before his entire body combusted. the sight was cute, at least.

you sighed, "it's just some guy from work who asked me out, soonie. nothing too important."

that wasn't enough for him.

he whined, nudging your knee as he put the phone down, "what does he mean by 'the whole boyfriend thing'? what, do you work with this loser? who does he think he is? i'm your lockscreen, what the fuck is wrong with him? should i go talk to him? i'll do it, babe, just-"

"soonyoung! it's fine. i'll block him if it makes you feel better. i never talk to him anyways. everyone else at work knows i have a boyfriend. it's just some stupid guy. no threat whatsoever," you reassured him.

that seemed to calm him down momentarily. his breath evened and his rambling halted. he remained quiet for a few seconds before speaking up again.

"that's not good enough."

"what?"

suddenly he got up, grabbing your phone in one hand and your arm with the other and leading you out of the living room. within moments you were in your room, being pushed towards your bed and losing your balance and falling onto it.

"soonyoung, what the fuck-"

throwing your phone onto the bed, he approached you, telling you to keep facing forward as he pushed you further onto the bed. undoing his sweats as he approached you. his tone had been cold and entirely void of emotion, causing your brain to go numb and follow along with his instruction. you'd been too distracted by the removal of your own sweats to hear his following instruction, causing him to harshly pull you against him to get your attention before repeating himself.

"w-what?"

"i said, text him. tell him you're not interested and block him."

that was easy enough.

you reached over to the phone he'd thrown onto the bed and opened it back up, searching for the conversation in order to draft up a message.

but before you were even able to start, a huge distraction entered you.

immediately upon penetrating you, soonyoung went at it like crazy. it was like he had zero concern for anything other than fucking his entire essence into you.

you screamed out at the sudden intrusion and continued to gasp and mewl at the consequent thrusts into your hole. your hands shook as you gripped onto the phone, elbows hurting from putting your weight on them in order to hold onto the phone.

but soonyoung didnt care. no, on the contrary, any time you'd scream out his name, he'd go even harder, fingers surely bruising your hips due to how harshly he held onto you.

"i don't see you texting him, baby," he huffed in between thrusts, "need me to dictate it to you? brain too cockdrunk to think?"

he was mocking you, but he was right. you were usually nicely moist for him, but the moment he threw you onto the bed, it was like your mind was taken over by a docile and horny version of yourself, making you lose any ability to think for yourself by every passing moment.

unable to respond properly, you nodded, moving to try and type whatever he'd tell you to type.

"tell him to never contact you again, or else your boyfriend might get mad, okay, baby? tell him, fuck, tell him you already have the perfect guy taking care of you every night," he groaned in between thrusts, huffing and puffing at how tight you'd get for him.

you typed up the message to the best of your ability, surely getting a ton of typos in the process but not caring enough to correct them. this guy was nothing compared to soonyoung, especially not in this moment. the message in itself was slightly embarrassing to share with some random coworker, but your brain wasn't working properly at the moment.

hitting send, you thought that'd be the end of it. that now you'd be able to enjoy soonyoung's cock in peace. except that bastard replied immediately, and soonyoung managed to catch it from behind you.

suddenly, he started hammering even harder into you, genuine anger filling his veins at the response you'd received.

from: cooper coworker

lol that sounds kinda toxic. u deserve better than that guy

"'toxic'? did he just call me toxic?," he gaped between gasped breaths, "block him," he demanded, "block that fucking dumbass, i- fuck, i'm gonna-"

that's when he started going as hard as humanly possible, still letting out expletives against the coworker you'd forgotten about the moment you'd gone back home that day to your soonyoung. it hurt, but it hurt so good. it was the most pleasurable pain you'd ever felt. surely it'd lead to traces of pain after the fact, but it all felt worth it as soonyoung hammered into you with all strength available in his body.

"h-hurts, soonie, it's too much ..." you managed to sigh out, arms giving out under you and head pressing onto the mattress.

the comforter under you quickly became damp with a mixture if tears and drool, but you were too brain dead to process it.

"no, baby, this ... this, fucking shit, is to show you that you're mine. that no idiot guy can even think of, shit, fuck, of looking your way," he practically growled.

his labored breath accompanied by his broken sentences told you all you needed to know. you were about to be filled up by his load and there was nothing you wanted more. you'd never been claimed by someone in such a way and the euphoria that came with it was addictive.

with more curses and filthy expletives, soonyoung filled you up. his warmth inside you led to your own orgasm, making you completely fall onto the bed the moment he pulled out and took away his hold on you.

you didn't have any time to whine at the loss before he reappeared and began hastily cleaning you up, laying you on your back so he could kiss your cheek as he wiped at the drool and tears drying on your face.

when you opened your eyes, you found a completely different image of the soonyoung who had just defiled you to hell and back. staring back at you wad a hamster-faced cutie with some sort of worry in his eyes. his smile was sheepish and his movements way softer than usual. you couldn't left a giggle leaving your lips, which in turn caused him to relax and chuckle back.

"uh, sorry about that. just- uh, i got mad, i think ... at him! not at you! you're perfect," he rambled on in usual soonyoung fashion.

he was the cutest thing ever.

"it's okay, soonie. i'm not mad. feel free to do that again any time you want," you sat up to give him a kiss, earning a happy hum from him.

"oh, ah, yes. noted."

[jenscx]

HIT ME UP — uchinaga aeri

aeri’s never had much luck with love. countless blind dates, dating apps, mutual friends, nothing came out of those. but wait, who is that girl in her best friend’s instagram and why is she so pretty?

tags fluff, no angst, non-idol au, open your eyes to see jiminjeong, mutual pining (for literally a sec), cursing, aeri pov centric

wordcount 6.0k

🎙️ author’s note: happy aeri day! lots of love to our favourite hot girl gigi 🤍 can’t express how much i love aeri and her contribution to aespa as a member >< i hope that everyone enjoys reading this fic and for aeri to enjoy her birthday!

uchinaga aeri, half-japanese and half-korean, age twenty three, has never dated anyone before in her life. well, not officially. she doesn’t really count the situationships or talking stages she’s had. aeri would say that the lack of love in her life would be due to her bougie choices in character. her taste is just a little more refined, detailed, specialised, whatever you want to call it. jimin calls it picky while yizhuo applauds her for knowing what she wants in a partner.

something that definitely attracted her would be a strong personality, a little bold and courageous but also sweet and caring. isn’t that a nice criteria to have? aeri doesn’t think she’s asking for much here. yet, her simple standards seem a reach too far compared to the personalities she’s met lately. even jimin can’t help but wince at the blind dates aeri has gone on.

because aeri loves everyone, as long as they’re pretty, she’s been on dates with many, regardless of gender. and well, she can’t really say that one outweighs the other. this one guy she met at the gym had told her she needed more tips on weightlifting and had gone into a rant about protein shakes.

needless to say, as much as she loves the gym, aeri could not really stand an hour long conversation about protein shakes of all things.

and that girl who seemed way more interested in the oat milk in aeri’s latte than her. that was a strange date. aeri scrunches her nose in distaste at the reminder. another date she’d been on, helpfully supplied by yizhuo, the girl was gorgeous and incredibly sweet. but the moment aeri had said she was a scorpio, her date started acting like aeri killed her dog. which, by the way, she never would. she loves dogs and even has two cute ones herself! and then her date had the nerve to storm out of the restaurant too. what a shitshow.

(“oh… maybe i shouldn’t be friends with her either,” yizhuo comments after aeri recites the incident to her.

“do you think she’ll burst into flames if you tell her you’re a scorpio as well?” jimin asks, so genuinely that aeri almost chokes to death while laughing.)

anyway, so what if aeri’s luck with dating is trash? her life has been fine for twenty three years and it’s not like having a partner will drastically change her for the good. she’s been enjoying this single life. she never has to update anyone about her whereabouts, she doesn’t have to reply to texts immediately, everything she buys is for herself. what a wonderful life. some call it miserable, others call it unhealthy. she calls it being free.

okay, maybe it is a little sad coming home to an empty apartment with no one to greet her. aeri does feel envious when her friends meet up and they talk about their own significant others. but that envy isn’t enough for her to throw herself down into that torturous rabbit hole of dating again. if only she had a friend that she could fall in love with or something. like a cute friends to lovers situation. or if she tripped and fell over the love of her life. the stars aligned, ‘we’re soulmates’ type.

not to mention that ever since moving back to korea from the states, her parents have been pressuring her to find someone. while korea and japan aren’t aeons apart, aeri doesn’t really have the comfort of family. her friends do offer some semblance of home but it just doesn’t feel the same. after confiding in her mother, aeri was told that a partner would fill in the gap her parents left.

she’s getting a little delirious and the idea of falling in love has become more of a chore than blessing. aeri slumps against her bedframe, scowling at her phone blowing up. if she were still on a dating app, the notifications could be due to matches or dates that were too clingy. but she’s sworn off dating apps for good and that chain of messages could only be sent by yu jimin.

jimin [6.19pm]:

omg guys

i think i just met the loml

holy shit shes so cute

im in love

can sm1 find her @

yizhuo [6.20pm]:

who

jimin [6.20pm]:

uhmmmmm

minjeong?

her cup says that

yizhuo [6.20pm]:

are you serious 😐

jimin [6.21pm]:

STOP SHES LOOKING AT ME

AAAAAAA

aeri [6.22pm]:

girl shut up

she throws her phone aside as jimin’s cries for help go unanswered. jimin breaking down would be cute if aeri wasn’t going through an existential crisis right now. the thought of never finding someone truly for her looms over her head. her whole ‘i don’t need a man’ (or woman) persona crumbles instantly the moment she reaches her bedroom. the facade falls immediately, only leaving behind a lonely girl who just has bad luck.

jimin continues to flounder around and seemingly the pings stop (aeri lets out a sigh of relief), before they come back in full force in the form of a video call.

aeri reaches for her phone and waits a few seconds just to torture jimin before picking up.

“uhm, hello?”

“oh my goodness— what is wrong with you two? have you not read my messages!” jimin whispers harshly. a grainy, pixelated version of her friend appears on screen. the only recognisable feature of jimin is her pale, glowy skin shining in the moonlight as her dark hair wisps around behind her.

staring blankly, aeri repeats, “hello?”

“hi, yes! okay, so i just met this girl and—”

yizhuo’s voice cuts through, “does it really count as meeting her though?”

aeri sees jimin rolling her eyes before she reluctantly pouts, “no, but that’s not the point. the point is that she’s really cute, like marriage-worthy cute. and i need her instagram now.”

“you think we can find it?” yizhuo asks, unamused.

“well, she was wearing our old high school jacket and you guys know a lot of people!” jimin’s logic, sometimes flawed, did make sense to aeri this time. she and yizhuo were like social butterflies back in high school and jimin’s assumption would be right.

“what was her name again?” aeri asks, just to get jimin to shut up. for a girl that was so elegant and graceful, jimin really was a loser sometimes. it was difficult at first to adjust from the girl crush jimin to the loser jimin but after being friends for so long, aeri has learnt to accept both sides of her personality.

jimin perks up, her forehead gleaming on the screen, “minjeong! isn’t it such a cute name? cute name for a cute girl… heh. she looked like a puppy too, like a tint maltese. she has short blonde hair too. almost shoulder length?”

aeri isn’t too sure on how the description of her looking like a maltese helps in their investigation but whatever floats jimin’s boat, she guesses. she watches as yizhuo disappears from the frame and jimin walks home, humming to herself.

a few minutes later, while she and jimin are discussing new hair colours, yizhuo pops back into frame, exclaiming with glee, “i found her!”

and aeri can only watch as jimin trips over air, almost in slow motion, and face plants into the ground.

“c’mon, ningie! please!” aeri widens her eyes while jimin almost gets on her knees, her hands pleading. who knew jimin would get so desperate for some girl’s instagram? definitely not aeri.

yizhuo only huffs, “i want something in return.”

“anything! really!” the older girl is so close to downright begging that aeri considers stepping in for a second before yizhuo inevitably reads out loud, “mj underscore zero one zero one and i want free lunch for the rest of the week. aeri unnie included.”

aeri grins brightly as jimin scrambles to type the username into her search bar. she fist bumps yizhuo, smiling at the thought of free food.

“oh my gosh, thank you!” jimin squeals, planting a wet kiss on yizhuo’s cheek.

“how’d you find her instagram?” aeri asks curiously. yizhuo shrugs, wiping the lipstick mark left behind coolly, “my friend follows her. asked around for a bit and now people think she owes me money or something.”

aeri stifles a giggle at that and turns her attention back to jimin, who’s still staring at her phone in awe. her fingers are fervently scrolling and swiping, tapping away on the screen. jimin’s devotion to find this mystery girl’s instagram is insane and it brings out the slightest bit of curiosity in aeri.

hence, she peeks over jimin’s shoulder and for her lacklustre description of minjeong, it’s well-fitting, surprisingly.

“she does look like a maltese,” are aeri’s first words. jimin swerves her head back, smiling widely, “i know right!”

“oh, she’s really cute,” aeri notes. minjeong is pretty, like a doll. jimin sends her a withering glare but she just ignores it. the girl is pretty, but not her type. and she definitely isn’t planning on competing in some competition for minjeong’s love alongside her own best friend.

“she’s friends with a lot of unnies,” yizhuo says, listing them off her fingers, “nayeon unnie, jeongyeon unnie, momo unnie— well, that whole friend group. jennie unnie too. and you know mijoo unnie? she’s friends with her too.”

jimin visibly deflates while aeri tries to cheer her up, “but they’re all friends only though, right?”

yizhuo nods, “yup, i haven’t heard of minjeong ever dating anyone either.”

her comment resonates with aeri and a small part of her commends minjeong for not succumbing to the horrors of dating.

with aeri’s words of encouragement, jimin continues to scroll, albeit slower now and not as enthusiastic. she eventually reaches the end of all of minjeong’s posts and hastily scrolls back up.

“check her highlights too,” aeri demands, terribly invested. jimin follows suit, clicking on the first story highlight. it’s full of food that has aeri salivating and jimin swallowing her saliva. yizhuo only watches on, uninterested.

then, jimin clicks on one that’s named ‘solos’ and aeri hears her choke up. the highlight is filled with selfies and photos of minjeong. all very cute and adorable. she internally rolls her eyes and begs jimin to hurry through the stories instead of staring intently at each one. minjeong’s feed is nice, aeri thinks. it’s clean and simple but it still shows enough of her personality.

when jimin finally swipes to the last highlight, aeri’s jaw visibly drops.

“oh my god,” she gapes, snatching jimin’s phone away into her own hands, “who is that?”

“hey! give it back!”

“stop it!” aeri swats jimin’s hand away and with miraculous strength, evades all of her reaches and manages to zoom into the story. minjeong, her face propped up by her palm, and next to her, aeri believes is aphrodite reincarnated. bright doe eyes, pouty lips— oh, aeri might be in love.

she was about to discover if it was possible to lose her voice solely from screaming inside her head.

“oh shit, do you think that’s her girlfriend?” jimin gasps as soon as she sees the story as well and the fight for her phone goes forgotten. they both stare in bewilderment at the photo.

yizhuo eventually pries their fingers off jimin’s phone, sneering, “close your mouth, both of you. she’s y/n.”

aeri jumps into action at her words, “you know this girl? who is she? what’s her name?”

“calm down, damn.”

“sorry— this is the literal love of my life?”

jimin frowns, “that’s what i said about minjeong and you called me deluded.”

ignoring jimin.

“i don’t know her, i know of her,” yizhuo rolls her eyes again. aeri purses her lips at the brattiness of the youngest. since when was their baby so sassy? maybe jimin was too irritating. aeri would understand if that were the case.

“just stalk her account. minjeong definitely tagged her somewhere or she’s in the comments,” jimin suggests.

aeri hollers, “you’re a genius!” it’s her first time saying that to jimin.

through sheer determination and will (yizhuo calls it stupidity), she manages to find minjeong replying to a certain commenter.

mj_0101 been away

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1eeyn i see how it is.. no creds at all

↳ mj_0101 photo creds to my bae

“bae?! jimin— oh my fucking god!” aeri screeches and thank god they’re in jimin’s room and not in public. yizhuo has the gall to cover her ears even though aeri’s been on the receiving end of her dolphin shrieks before.

equally distressed, jimin lets out a choked sob, “of course the pretty girls are dating!”

“guys, i just said they’re only friends.”

“and how do you know that?!”

yizhuo shoots a glare and jimin immediately cowers beside aeri.

“because i know them, duh. y’all are stupid. the moment you two see pretty girls it’s like your ability to think disappears.”

well that, aeri can’t disagree. her brain had no thoughts when she first saw minjeong’s story. just sunshine and rainbows. maybe the distant chiming of wedding bells. or a white, sparkly dress with a long train.

as she gets lost in her thoughts, jimin pries her fingers away from the phone, detaching them carefully. when aeri frowns at her action, the older one merely shrugs, “stalk her on your own phone.”

begrudgingly, she does so, searching up this mystery girl’s instagram. it’s pretty empty, mostly just pictures of nature and food. sometimes she throws in a selfie that makes aeri’s heart clench.

“fuck,” she groans, feeling her throat choke up, “she’s so my type.”

jimin nods in agreement even though aeri’s sure she didn’t hear a word she said. yizhuo rolls her eyes (how many times has she done that?).

“you think she’s into girls?” aeri asks, showing yizhuo a story highlight of some vinyls with clairo’s one right at the front.

“maybe. i don’t know her too well. i heard she’s kind of scary though, like cold and intimidating. she punched someone for picking on minjeong once.”

aeri lets out a huff, one of sheer amazement. lord knows she needs a woman who can fight.

“aeri-ah,” jimin suddenly calls out from her bed.

“yes?”

she gulps, swallowing harshly, “if you text her, i’ll text minjeong.”

yizhuo hums, “you two do that.”

she mulls it over. texting this pretty girl? who’s insanely her type? maybe. what if you were an asshole though? she’s not too sure about whether minjeong would be friends with you if you were mean but she thinks back to your face.

god, she needs you biblically.

“okay, let’s get girlfriends!”

she doesn’t text you at all. it’s a little embarrassing to admit but aeri’s scared! what if she just gets ignored? she couldn’t get her ego bruised like that. and jimin’s no help either! constantly texting her to dm you first even though aeri knows that jimin stares at the empty private chat with minjeong every night.

what she does do is first of all, create another account that’s completely blank, void of any recognition for aeri. then she watches your stories. on repeat. and on one uneventful tuesday, your profile lights up with a ring around it. aeri can’t help herself from viewing it immediately.

and maybe she shouldn’t have, since she’s seething by the time yizhuo texts her.

yizhuo [1.43pm]:

hey guys…

has any1 seen y/n’s story?

jimin [1.44pm]:

minjeong’s account is burned into my screen

but no ☺️

aeri [1.44pm]:

i’m gonna kill myself

jimin [1.46pm]:

😨⁉️

she almost actually throws her phone this time. aeri wants to die. she wants to puke.

what the actual fuck.

her phone rings— she picks up on the first ring.

“so…” yizhuo starts awkwardly.

“what’s going on?! aeri, don’t kill yourself?! you’re my best friend and i might also die without you! i love you, aeri—”

aeri cries out, “she has a girlfriend!”

the other side of the phone goes eerily quiet before jimin’s forehead pops up on screen and her eyebrows are nearly touching her hairline.

“WHAT?!”

“she just posted a photo of her kissing some girl’s cheek!” aeri screeches.

yizhuo winces before adding unhelpfully, “her girlfriend’s pretty though.”

“not the point— also yeah, agreed. but still! what am i gonna do now?!”

jimin frowns, “you can still be friends with her, right?”

“well… i was going to try to hit her up first,” aeri pouts, feeling devastated. she hadn’t even gotten a chance to woo you, and no way was she going to get in the way of a happy relationship! aeri was many things, but she wasn’t a homewrecker.

“maybe you can salvage a friendship out of this,” yizhuo suggests thoughtfully. aeri nods. maybe she should at least try to be friends rather than pursue a romantic relationship. she needed to expand her social circle anyway from just jimin and yizhuo.

“jimin, this means you have to text minjeong now.”

“what?! i’m not ready!”

“it’s just a text! like her story or something!”

jimin stares at her through the screen, affronted. aeri connects the dots quickly enough, “wait, don’t tell me you have been liking all her stories?”

“okay, maybe i have! that’s not a crime. and she liked one of my stories back! the one i posted when we went to eat hotpot! i’m way farther in this than you are—”

aeri hangs up. she can’t deal with a gloating jimin right now.

she needs a clear mind. she needs to think about her next course of action. all that was occupying her mind during the past few days was a wedding with you, but now aeri has a few adjustments to make.

swiping back to your story, aeri frowns. she clicks to the previous one. it’s a photo of you playing with a dog, an adorable samoyed. the background has a few other dogs, so you were probably at a dog cafe.

with your girlfriend, aeri sighs.

she types out, ‘omg where is this?’ it feels friendly and innocent enough. and aeri totally knows which dog cafe you’re at. it’s a rather popular one that she has visited herself.

before aeri can even think again, she sends the message.

god, she should really stop letting jimin get to her head.

within seconds, there’s a reply that makes aeri’s heart soar.

[aerichandesu] 1eeyn

it’s winters village in hongdae!

you’re really pretty btw

score! aeri’s got this in the bag!

she enters the chat and replies with a speed that makes the flash quiver.

aerichandesu [2.10pm]:

omg thankuu 💗

you’re super cute too

you don’t reply but aeri spots the tiny green circle next to your name. you’re online. but why aren’t you replying? was there nothing to reply to? aeri feels her heart sink a little lower. the chat doesn’t pop up with another message and aeri throws her phone aside.

she can’t let a girl plague her mind! aeri’s better than this! puffing her chest out, aeri gathers all the grit and willpower she has in herself and leaves the app.

aeri continues this pattern for the next few days; every time you posted a story, she would slide up. it only started to feel a bit one-sided when you started replying with short and curt responses. maybe you got weirded out by aeri, and she wouldn’t even blame you. sometimes she would send messages at midnight and wake up in the morning, cursing the vulnerability she had previously. she would read back at the chat, cringing at her overeager attitude. even jimin called her out on it! and if even jimin found it weird, aeri must have seemed absolutely psychotic.

“girl, i think you have to stop,” yizhuo says one day.

“stop with what?” aeri asks but she knows damn well what yizhuo’s talking about. jimin’s head perks up, her cheeks stuffed with ramen that aeri so graciously cooked for her when the older had complained about her hunger.

after swallowing, jimin giggles, “your little thing with your girl.”

“uhm, what?”

“i think you’re creeping her out,” yizhuo shakes her head, “if i had this stranger, no matter how cute they are, constantly texting me first, i would be a little scared.”

aeri pouts, feeling admonished, “i haven’t texted her in two days. she isn’t interested.”

“oh thank goodness,” the chinese girl sighs in relief, “i thought you went all joe goldberg on her.”

“i’m not joe! and i would never do that to someone!”

“well, i was worried anyway.”

jimin nudges her shoulder, “there’s a lot of fish in the ocean, right?”

rolling her eyes, aeri pinches at jimin’s side, “imagine if i said that about minjeong.”

“why would you ever say that about minjeong?” jimin furrows her brows, “and i actually texted her.”

aeri shoots up, the thought of her disastrous love life long forgotten as jimin reveals this new information.

“you did?! holy shit, congrats dude!”

jimin looks away, sheepish, “i replied to her story and she said that she remembers me from school. i don’t know how i missed seeing someone like her around. she said she really likes bowling, so i’m thinking of bringing her to bowl.”

genuinely happy for her friend, aeri pats her on the back while yizhuo gives a pleased nod. aeri kind of wishes her endeavour with you could go this smoothly. she certainly doesn’t remember you from school, nor does it seem you remember her. maybe you just weren’t in the same classes.

“guess it’s just me now, huh?” aeri laughs, despite the slight embarrassment she feels from being ignored.

jimin pouts, “you’ll find someone better.”

aeri thinks of the way her heart flutters when you reply or post something new, and she thinks that she’s never felt this strongly attracted to someone before without even knowing them.

yeah, she doesn’t think she will.

aeri’s totally fine. she’s gone two weeks without even glancing at your profile and she’s okay. there were some withdrawal symptoms at first, like the increasing urge to reply to your story or like it, but aeri’s determination outweighs her adoration. thus, she lives life without ever thinking about you again.

(that was a lie. she still wonders about it at night.)

yizhuo had applauded her ‘getting over’ you and so had jimin, who was barely online nowadays because she was hanging out with minjeong. aeri’s glad her best friend has found someone she likes. and she’s over the moon that jimin has found a new victim for her teasing. apparently, minjeong had better reactions, so yizhuo and aeri cheered knowing minjeong would suffer now.

jimin had been bugging them to finally meet minjeong and hang out as a group for the longest time. aeri doesn’t know if she actually brought her to that bowling date but the restaurant they picked out is expensive and jimin’s paying. so naturally, she agrees instantly.

what jimin doesn’t say is that minjeong would be bringing someone along.

coincidentally, you.

hence, aeri’s sitting right across from you, not daring to lift her head up in fear that she might make eye contact. after acting so desperate in your dms, aeri would rather die than face you directly.

you stare at her bizarrely as minjeong introduces you to jimin’s friends.

“this is yizhuo and aeri, we all went to the same high school together,” minjeong informs you, “but i don’t think we ever crossed paths before.”

“no, we haven’t,” you confirm. aeri glances at you meekly before darting her gaze to the menu.

“nice to meet you, y/n,” yizhuo smiles sweetly, making up for the silence that aeri provided. you’re still a little confused as to why aeri wasn’t talking right now.

maybe she thinks you don’t recognise her? but you do. she’s the pretty girl that randomly popped up one day and started replying to your stories.

“nice to meet you too,” you grin, “nice to see you in person as well, aeri-ssi.”

you watch, surprised, as aeri barely acknowledges your words, only nodding slightly. wasn’t she quite bold online? why was she acting like this now?

“shall we order?” jimin asks, snapping the menu shut. after calling over the waiter, you shift your eyes back to aeri, staring appreciatively at her outfit. one thing you noticed from her instagram feed was that she dressed well. you wanted to ask her where she shops but she seemed a second away from exploding.

you whip out your phone, earning a flinch from aeri.

y/n bae [7.24pm]:

is smth wrong w aeri?

mindoongie [7.24pm]:

uhmm idk 😓

idt she’s usually like this

jiminie said she’s quite sociable

awesome. so that meant you were the problem.

resting your head on your palm, you turn your attention to yizhuo, asking, “what are you currently studying?”

“oh, i’m doing fashion design,” she answers, twirling the knife.

“that’s interesting. could you ever design something for me one day?”

yizhuo chuckles, “i’ll cast you as my model if i get big. what about you?”

“i’ll definitely pursue something in modelling but i’m studying medicine right now.”

engrossed in your conversation, you barely notice aeri’s pout. the girl seemed a little too timid and shy as to what you’ve seen online. and minjeong and jimin seemed to be talking about something else.

“y/n, are you dating anyone right now?” yizhuo asks suddenly. you falter, recalling the girl you had just broken up with a few days ago, “ah, no. not currently.”

in your haste to recover, you miss the nudge yizhuo gives go aeri.

spurred on, aeri asks, “do you have time to date while studying?”

“hm, it was manageable,” you reply, “it got tiring when she needed a lot of my time though.”

aeri stares at you wistfully before coughing.

you wonder why she asked that.

[aerichandesu] 1eeyn

hi, can u help me say thanku to jimin?

for taking care of my best friend

aeri blinks at the message. it’s the first time you’ve texted her first.

aerichandesu [10.43pm]:

sure

she still feels awkward for acting so desperate previously. it doesn’t feel right to act like that anymore. and aeri does feel a little bad for how cold she was during dinner.

1eeyn [10.44pm]:

thank u aeri chan

aeri-chan? where did that come from? suddenly, she feels the stutter in her heart resurfacing after she had tried to bury it.

1eeyn [10.45pm]:

we didn’t get to talk much, huh?

aerichandesu [10.45pm]:

no sorry

i wasn’t feeling well

it feels like the safest lie she can tell.

1eeyn [10.46pm]:

that’s a shame

are you feeling better now?

aerichandesu [10.46pm]

yes, i am

1eeyn [10.46pm]:

that’s good

rest well aeri-chan 💗

oh my god, aeri needs to text the group chat!

over the next few days, you were relentless with your texts. it felt like you and aeri had swapped roles. she didn’t know to adapt to this new side of you without seeming like a bumbling fool. you would send selfies! selfies! asking aeri for her opinion. the first time you sent one, aeri’s nose started bleeding and she scared jimin half to death, thinking aeri was dying.

(“she sent me a selfie! of her face!” aeri wails, covering her nose with bloody tissues.

jimin grimaces at the blood, “well, yes. selfies are usually of someone’s face.”)

then, you would send your outfits, or whatever you ate that day. slowly, aeri started warming up to you too and would begin to send her own photos. normally she would send photos of her dogs or jimin and yizhuo being silly. then they evolved into selfies.

aeri likes what she has with you right now. you were building up a friendship that aeri appreciated. she liked your humour and personality as well, complementing her own rather nicely. minjeong and jimin begin dating as well, making your proximity even closer as the two would constantly drag everyone to hangouts. to be frank, aeri can’t believe that this all started because jimin saw a cute girl at a cafe, but somehow, it makes sense too.

how an insignificant moment such as minjeong deciding to buy coffee that day helped aeri gain two new best friends, she would never know. but she liked it. it felt like fate. leaning on your shoulder, aeri shoves a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“no scary movies please,” jimin begs, tugging at minjeong’s shirt. yizhuo laughs and eggs minjeong on to pick a horror film while aeri stares at her best friends affectionately.

“you like scary movies?” you whisper to aeri.

she shakes her head, already feeling shivers run down her spine at the thought of being jumpscared countless times. jimin’s reaction would be funny as hell. but no way was she sacrificing her own sanity for something like that. if she wanted jimin to go insane, she had ten other ways to do that.

“nooo not the conjuring please!”

aeri cowers into herself, dreading the night already. this was a weekly occurrence, having a movie night at jimin’s apartment. it started with just the three of them and then minjeong and you got invited soon after. the honour of picking a movie was passed down every week and aeri detests it when it’s minjeong’s turn. that girl would pick scary films just to annoy jimin and aeri always gets caught in the crossfire somehow.

“don’t worry, minjeongie wants to watch despicable me tonight. she’s just playing with jimin,” you comfort. aeri nods as minjeong hovers exceptionally long on the nun before finally moving to despicable me. jimin cheers in exhilaration and yizhuo boos.

“oh my gosh, babe! i love the minions!”

“minions and despicable me are two different movies!” yizhuo sneers. just as the movie starts, jimin, minjeong and yizhuo begin bickering. aeri knows how the argument will end— with jimin apologising and minjeong and yizhuo emerging victorious.

a gush of hot air beside her ear makes her jump, “they’re cute, aren’t they?”

aeri follows your gaze to where jimin and minjeong’s fingers are interwoven even though they’re arguing.

“yeah, silly but cute.”

you chuckle, slipping your hand into aeri’s under the blanket, “we can’t lose to them, right?”

she gets caught off guard for just a second before bouncing back.

“no, i’ll never lose to jimin.”

your laugh makes aeri’s cheeks heat up slightly. as you ramble on about the movie, she listens to every word attentively, wanting to savour the smoothness and richness of your voice. her smaller hand stays tight in your bigger one, feeling the warmth emitting from your palm.

aeri’s heart feels content.

she’s happy here, being friends with you.

unfortunately (or fortunately), the friendship doesn’t last for long.

after that particular movie night, aeri has noticed a change in your behaviour. you’ve become touchier, for lack of a better term. more lingering touches around her shoulder, hands, waist, wrists, wherever her skin was. you would gaze into her eyes before smiling shyly and looking away. you would offer to bring her lunch even though she knows you’re busy with your internship. not to mention the influx of messages. if aeri thought your selfies were bad for her heart before, it resembled a tsunami drowning her heart now.

photos, of every kind, most of them in your scrubs and uniform, smiling at the camera gleefully, as if you weren’t working an all-nighter. and on your off-days, aeri finds you staying up to talk to her. she’s busy during the day, so she doesn’t really check her phone often. when she finally does, she’s welcomed by your chat. the once intimidating girl that she admired online had turned into the girl that camped in her dms.

she had asked before, why you would text her so much. your response had been equally confusing, asking her back if she wanted you to stop. of course not. the aeri a few months ago wished for days that you would reply with more than four words. now, it seemed like you constantly had paragraphs of stories to tell her. not that she was complaining.

then, one day, the messages stop. aeri’s a little bewildered when she checks her phone and nothing’s there but she goes to bed anyway. maybe you were working a really long shift? sometimes she would catch you at four in the morning, so perhaps you were catching up on some much needed sleep.

but when she wakes up the next day, there’s only a lone message asking for her to meet you.

aeri agrees, yet she can’t help but wonder about the spontaneous nature of the message. it was sent in the morning, so it seemed like you had been thinking about it all night.

after dressing herself, she left her apartment, nervous but excited at the prospect of seeing you again. the last time you met face to face was over a week ago and aeri’s suffering from y/n drought.

you had requested to meet at lunchtime and when aeri arrives at the restaurant, you’re already there, seated and deep in thought.

“hey,” she greets, “slept well?”

you didn’t, but you nod anyway.

“did you have a shift yesterday?” aeri asks as you order your regulars.

“uhm, no. sorry i didn’t text you, i was busy doing something else.”

“nah, it’s fine. i was helping ning with her designs anyway.”

you nod stiffly and aeri reaches out a hand to cover yours, “are you good? you seem a little off.”

“i’m fine!” your voice comes out squeakier than usual but aeri brushes it off.

“so, what’s up?” she finally asks.

you tap your fingernails on the table, gulping harshly, “i just wanted to talk.”

“mhm, sure.”

“i wanted to know… well… uhm, if you were still interested in me,” you ask, eyes flickering to aeri hesitantly. aeri gapes at you before stammering, “wh-why? what— what do you mean?”

you inhale sharply, “i know you were interested in me at the start, but are you still interested now?”

aeri withdraws her hand, “uh, why?”

furrowing your eyebrows, you grit your teeth, “please just tell me.”

“uhm. well… yes? but why—”

“because i’m interested. and i want to find out if the feeling’s the same,” you blurt out. aeri’s eyes widen considerably and if your heart wasn’t racing a mile, you would coo at her cuteness.

“if you were interested before… why didn’t you say anything?” aeri asks, her voice trailing off at the end. you sigh, pinching your nose bridge, “i was dating someone at the time. it wasn’t right for me to encourage someone who liked me that much.”

aeri nods, already feeling guilty for her desperation before.

“i’m sorry for my coldness but i could already tell you were interested in me and as someone who had a girlfriend then, i couldn’t message back with the same eagerness,” you explain.

“no, it’s fine. that was a stupid question but uhm, i thought you didn’t like me back.”

“we became friends first, then i started to have feelings for you. as i learnt more about you, i started to like you more.”

aeri feels a little silly with her immediate infatuation. huh. maybe she got her ‘friends to lovers’ trope after all.

“i hope that now, i can take you on a date?” you ask and how can aeri refuse that? your bright, gleaming, expectant eyes? aeri felt her heart crushed with adoration.

“yes, obviously. you’re my ideal type and everything. you know i had thoughts about our wedding when i first met you—”

“oh, is that why you were so quiet that night?”

“yeah, you just looked really pretty under the lighting and i already started to imagine how you would look like dressed in all white and how our wedding would seem, maybe i would pick yizhuo as my maid of honour and minjeong could be yours but jimin would totally throw a fuss and—”

you smile widely as aeri babbles on, chiming in every once in a while to insert your own thoughts.

when she finally finishes, the expression on your face makes her whole being ascend.

maybe all those useless blind dates with shitty luck amounted to her finding the love of her life.

thank you! aeri would later exclaim to that horoscope-obsessed girl and the gym rat. who knew that those catastrophic dates would finally gift her you, her first girlfriend (and last!).

[dreamescapeswriting]

Out Like A Light ~ MYG

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 2.9K 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: established relationships, cute, fluffy, yoongi helping insomniac reader, smut, MINORS DNI, unprotected sex, oral (reader recieving) 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Yoongi x Fem!Reader 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - October 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

The living room was comfortably quiet which was completely unusual, the guys sprawled across the couches, snacks scattered on the coffee table. Namjoon was thumbing through a book, Seokjin was scrolling through his phone, and Hobi and Jimin were playing a game on the floor. Yoongi leaned against the armrest of the couch, listening to the chatter but not really engaging. His mind was somewhere else, focused on you upstairs. He'd left you about ten minutes ago and he couldn't help but feel more than useless than he did right now.

“How’s she doing tonight?” Seokjin asked, glancing up from his phone with a concerned frown. Yoongi shrugged, it was the same as it always was with you. There was no chance of getting you to drift off to sleep and he hated himself for it.

“Same as usual. Can’t sleep.” He muttered a little, hating how angry it made him that he wasn't able to help you fall asleep. Namjoon closed his book and leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s been tough for her lately, huh? I was with her the other night and read a few chapters of that book she likes. It helped a bit, but she still didn’t get much sleep.” Namjoon shrugged and Yoongi cringed at the thought. You'd mentioned it the next day that the guys had all been trying to help you and while it was sweet of them to try it made Yoongi feel like a bad boyfriend.

“Yeah, she mentioned that,” Yoongi replied quietly, a hint of unease creeping into his voice. He stared down at his hands and bit down on his tongue trying not to let his insecurities get the better of him,

“I tried telling her some dumb jokes last night,” Hobi chimed in, stretching his arms over his head, looking awfully smug himself for what he was about to say,

“Worked like a charm! She was laughing so hard, and then boom, out like a light.” Jimin chuckled, nodding in agreement. Yoongi turned to look at Jimin who seemed pretty happy with himself,

“She said that always helps. When I stayed with her the other night, we didn’t even talk. She just needed someone there, and she fell asleep after a while.” Yoongi bit the inside of his cheek, listening as each of them recounted how they’d helped you in some way. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to lean on them—they were family, after all, and he was glad you all got along well with one another. But the fact that they seemed to know exactly what to do to ease your insomnia left him feeling… off. Like he was missing something.

Yoongi had never been good at helping his own sleeping schedule and that made him feel useless but it was nothing compared to the way he felt when you'd lean on him and he had no idea how to help.

“They’re not wrong,” Taehyung said from the corner of the room, finally chiming in. “She told me you guys helped a lot. Even Jungkook. I guess his random midnight gym talk worked somehow.” Yoongi scoffed softly, shaking his head.

“Gym talk helped her sleep? Seriously?” He grumbled, folding his arms over his chest and shaking his head. Now he just felt like the guys were trying to wind him up - and it was working.

“Guess it did,” Jungkook shrugged. “She started nodding off while I was talking about some new routine, so I just kept going. Went into detail about all the weights too, she was out like a light.” The guys all laughed, except for Yoongi, who forced a smile. It wasn’t that he resented them—he loved how they cared for you like he did—but every time he tried to help, nothing seemed to work.

He'd tried to sit with you while he worked, he'd sung to you, he'd made you hot chocolate, and got you new pillows and blankets. Done almost everything he could think of to get you to fall asleep and yet nothing seemed to work.

Yet all of them had something that made it easier for you to rest, but him? He just fumbled through the night, watching you struggle with the weight of your own sleeplessness.

“You okay, hyung?” Hobi asked, noticing the shift in Yoongi’s expression. Yoongi tried not to let it show, he didn't want this to become an issue, if the others helped you sleep he should be happy for you.

“Yeah, just… I don’t know.” Yoongi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It feels like everyone’s better at helping her than I am. It’s my job to make sure she’s okay, you know? But whenever I try, I just end up sitting there, doing nothing.” The room fell quiet for a moment, and the lighthearted atmosphere suddenly felt heavier. Namjoon leaned forward, his brows furrowed in thought.

“It’s not a competition, Yoongi. You’re there for her in ways we can’t be.”

“I know it’s not,” Yoongi said quickly, though the knot of insecurity in his chest tightened. “But it’s like… every time I try, she ends up calling for one of you. What’s the point if I’m not even good at something this simple?” He sighed in frustration, finally letting everything off his shoulders before Hoseok bit his lip, looking to the others for some help.

“It’s not simple,” Jimin interjected softly. “Insomnia’s tough. You being there helps her, even if it doesn’t feel like it right away.” Yoongi didn’t respond immediately, his mind was too busy filling his head with doubt about it all. He wanted to be the one to ease your restlessness, to give you the peace you couldn’t seem to find on your own, he wanted to be the one you would lean on in your times of need. Yet every time he tried, it felt like he was failing. The others were succeeding where he couldn’t.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi finally muttered. “It just feels like… I’m not enough.” The words hung in the air, and the guys exchanged glances. None of them had the perfect solution, but they understood Yoongi’s frustration. They all cared for you in their own way, but it was clear that for Yoongi, this ran deeper. You weren’t just a friend to him. You were his everything.

“Hyung,” Jungkook said, his voice gentle but firm. “She loves you. That’s all that matters.” Yoongi nodded, though the weight of his insecurity still lingered. He wanted to believe that was enough. He just had to find a way to make sure you felt it too.

Just as he was about to head to the studio his phone pinged and he frowned glancing down at the screen,

Best girlfriend: Come upstairs.... xx

He smirked at the name on the screen, you'd renamed yourself a few months ago and he didn't change it since the name was completely true in his eyes. Without thinking twice, Yoongi stood up, muttering a quick

“I’m going to check on her,” before heading up to your shared room.

The soft light from the hallway spilt into the dim bedroom as he quietly stepped inside, finding you curled up in bed, staring up at the ceiling. You looked as frustrated as he felt right now and you turned over on the bed to look at him,

“Hey,” you greeted softly, shifting to make room for him on the bed. “I couldn’t sleep. Again.” You smiled weakly, as if to say what's new and he sighed, sliding in next to you, his body fitting perfectly against yours. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close.

“I know. It’s been rough for you, lately,” he whispered, stroking his hands up and down your arms as you nodded, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. There was a comfort in his presence, but tonight, something felt off. Yoongi’s hold on you wasn’t as relaxed as it usually was, and you could feel a slight tension in his body. You knew your boyfriend better than you knew yourself so you instantly knew that there was something going on in his head and you weren't going to sleep until he told you what it was.

“What’s going on?” you asked, looking up at him through the dim light. He hesitated, his hand that had been touching you froze in place and he shook his head at you.

“Nothing, just tired.” You knew it was a lie instantly and you stared up at him,

“Yoongi.” You narrowed your eyes playfully, nudging him gently. “I know you better than I know myself. Something’s bothering you.” He stayed quiet, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing small circles on your hip. he didn't want to bring you down more than you already were. You studied his face, the way his eyes seemed to avoid yours, how his lips were pressed together like he was holding something back and you poked his side, your tone soft but persistent.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, baby.” You begged, looking at him but Yoongi shifted slightly, debating whether to brush it off or just come clean. But the way you kept looking at him, concerned and curious, made it impossible to keep it bottled up. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s just… I feel like I’m no good at this,” he muttered, finally voicing what had been weighing him down. The two of you had been together for so long that he knew it was better to tell you than to keep it hidden.

“Helping you sleep. Everyone else seems to know what to do, but I… I can’t. It’s like I’m supposed to be the one who makes you feel better, but instead, I’m the one who sucks at it.” You blinked, his admission catching you off guard. You hadn’t expected that. You'd only kept asking the guys to help you because you knew Yoongi had trouble sleeping himself and you didn't want to make him feel worse about it,

“Yoongi…”

“I hear how the others help you, and I know I shouldn’t be comparing myself,” he continued, his voice low. “But it’s hard not to feel like I’m failing you. I mean, even Jungkook can ramble about workouts and you doze off.” You couldn’t help but laugh weakly at that, but the sound was soft, affectionate. Jungkook bored you with trips about the gym and everything he got up to when he was there, that was why you'd fallen asleep.

“Yoongi, I never wanted to ask you for help because… I know you struggle with sleep too. I didn’t want to put more pressure on you.” His gaze softened as he looked down at you, at least it wasn't because you didn't think he was good enough.

“But you should’ve asked. I’d do anything for you.” He uttered under his heart,

“I know,” you whispered, shifting slightly so you could meet his eyes better.

“But even if you weren’t helping me fall asleep, just having you here makes me feel better. I always wanted you next to me, even if I didn’t say it.” Yoongi stared at you for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. You could see his expression shift, the insecurity he had been carrying softening into something else—something tender.

“Really?” he asked, his voice quieter now. You nodded, your fingers tracing small patterns on his chest, pressing your lips softly to his chest and then looking at him.

“Yeah. You’re my boyfriend, Yoongi. You don’t have to do anything special. I just need you here with me. That’s all.” Yoongi let out a breath, the tension in his body easing.

“I didn’t realize… I just didn’t want to feel like I was letting you down.” You hated that he was beating himself up over something he couldn't help you with and you shook your head at him,

“You could never let me down,” you said softly, leaning in closer until your lips brushed his. “I’m here because I want you. Not because I need you to fix everything.” His eyes fluttered shut as your lips met his, the kiss soft and lingering, a quiet exchange of everything he had been worried about. When you pulled back, you could see the small smile playing on his lips, and it warmed your heart.

"There is one thing I could help you with... to make you sleep of course," He stuttered a little, his cheeks turning pink as you stared at him.

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest as his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer and he pressed your lips to his.

The kiss deepened, your fingers tangling in his hair as you melted into him, feeling the heat between you grow. His other hand trailed down your side, sending sparks through your body.

“Yoongi,” you breathed, his name escaping your lips between kisses. He didn’t respond with words, just a low hum of agreement as his fingers slipped beneath your shirt, brushing against your bare skin. You could feel his touch linger, the desire building between you both.

Slowly your clothes began to disappear in the hazy heat of the moment, each layer peeled away with unspoken understanding. His lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of warmth that made your head spin. You clung to him, your breaths coming out in soft, eager gasps as the tension between you built, your bodies entwining.

Yoongi slowly began to kiss down your body, kissing each of your thighs as he looked up at you. You were wriggling above him, your eyes burning into his as you silently begged for him to do something,

"Such a needy little, princess." He chuckled before his tongue finally caressed your eager clit. You grabbed your pillow and held it over your face, moaning softly into it as he began to alternate between soft kitten licks and sucking on your clit. Your hips bucked toward him as he continued to eat you out like you were the last meal on earth.

"Y-Yoongi, fuck." you moaned out, completely lost in the pleasure he was giving to you. Yoongi smirked as he pushed his tongue into you, using his fingers to gently rub your clit sending you over the edge as you whimpered.

"Cum for me, princess." He ordered as he slid two fingers into your cunt, thrusting them roughly as he began sucking on your clit. Your hips bucked uncontrollably now as you whimpered, meeting each stroke of his fingers as the band inside of your stomach tightened.

"S-Shit! Shit! I'm gonna-" You cry out in sheer ecstasy as your head rolls back against the pillows. Your pussy clenched tightly around his fingers but he continued to thrust them in and out of you as you came down from your high.

"Yoongi, I need-"

"I know," He smirked as he knelt between your legs, tapping the head of his cock against your clit as you whined at him, you were already sensitive without him teasing you more for it. Slowly he eased into you, making you whimper at the stretch, your nails dragging down his back as he bottoms out inside of you.

"M-Move...please," you begged as he groaned. Slowly he began to withdraw from you, only to push back in, your legs wrapping around his waist as you whimpered at him.

His thrusts began to pick up in pace his of his thrust making you cry out in ecstasy, no longer caring that the boys were right downstairs. All you good focus on was how good it felt to have Yoongi inside of you.

"You're gonna let everyone know, princess," He chuckles deeply and moans out when he feels you clench,

"Does my dirty, princess want everyone to know?" He teased, thrusting faster this time, pinning your left leg down to the bed as his thrusts began to get brutal. You were a mess at this point, a screaming and withering mess beneath him as you felt your - fast - approaching orgasm.

"Y-Yoongi!" You screamed, looking up at him as you whined. Yoongi smirked as he looked down at you, this was what he could do to make you sleep every single night. Two orgasms...maybe more if he could make you agree to it.

"You gonna cum for me?" he smirked at you as you nodded violently at him,

"yes, Yes!" You cried out, your fingers leaving marks down his back making him groan as he drove into you again and again. Your moans harmonise with his, and his thrusts send you closer to your edge each and every time. Yoongi reached between you and stroked your clit,

"FUCK!" You cry out, releasing over his cock as you whimpered, pussy clamping down on him and sending him to his own release. He panted heavily as he looked down at you, sweat dripping from your forehead and yet you'd never looked prettier to him than you did right now.

"I think we should do that every single night." You whipped as he pulled out of you, collapsing on the bed beside you as he gave himself a couple of minutes before he cleaned you up.

"I'm down, but we'll need to get our own place...I plan on doing that again and again until you're out like a light," He smirks before kissing you and heading to the en-suite to get you a warm cloth.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @tinyoonsblog @whitefoxgirl @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @wolfgurl2600 @choisoorin @heyjiminnie @btsiguess-kpop @alicejustwakeup @halesandy @gothic4under4lord @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lenfilms @elizaschuyler18 @whitefoxgirl

[bee-wg]

Year 2:

“Jay! What the Flip?” It’s the ass crack of dawn, and Theo is already trying his best SpongeBob impression.

“Whaaat?” I yelled back with a mouth full of pancakes.

“You put your dirty clothes on my bed again!” He squealed.

”Dude, you asked for it. What are you whining about?”

“Boys, What did I say about yelling in the morning?” She yelled.

“Yewn, bwintow!” I think Dad was telling us to break it off, but he’s too lost in the Cream Cheese Danish.

Can’t blame him. Delicious and high protein? There’s nothing better.

Theo rushed down with a constipated face. 

“Ewww. They’re still wet to the touch. Wait. Is it dripping sweat?”

Okay. I overlooked the wet part, but he asked me to have it. 

I’ve been cleaning out some gym clothes that don't fit anymore, and Theo wanted some. I’ve decided to fully commit on football and my stocky phase, so I gave that shirt one last try yesterday. It was definitely not made for a more rugged build person. As I walked around the house, I unknowingly soaked it. I used to be disgusted with sweating. I would shower and wash the clothes by hand after each morning run. Recently I’ve been sweating a lot easier, but Dad told me to look at the bright side of things, and I do see it. Usually I would only sweat when I get a real good workout. Since it's easier to sweat buckets, that means I’m getting lots of exercise.

That leads back to this. I don’t feel as compelled to wash them anymore. They’re the result of my hard work on the journey back to being shredded. 

“No more pancakes in the morning for the month.” He said.

“What?…But…You can’t do that.” 

His face tells me, “Yes, loser. I can.”

***

“What happened, dude? Your cat died?” Brad asked.

This is supposed to be an easy practice because it’s the last before the summer. I guess Coach woke up and chose violence. 

I’ve been only doing a few yards of Quick Steps and Sumo squats. My lungs are now collapsing.

I’m only 230 pounds; there are players heavier than me doing better. I’m doing something wrong. It must be because I didn’t have protein pancakes for days.

“Dude, you there?” Brad asked.

Trying not to wheeze, I replied.

“Yeah, S’all good. I’m just hungry.” 

It would be an understatement. When you’re used to protein goods pumping your belly full of energy every morning, what does five English muffins and some hash browns even do?”

“Hahaha, classic Jay. You’re the man.” Brad answers with a slap on my back.

“Gosh, you’re getting sweatier than Aiden.” He said in disbelief.

“Oh, by the way. Aiden’s going to Costco to buy a speaker for our dorm. You mind giving him a lift?” Brad asked.

“Bad timing man, my dad broke the old Toyota. It’s taking a long time to repair.”

“No problem. I’ll see you next semester then. Take care!” Brad waved as he sprinted out of the field.

***

I felt like I could eat a horse when the bus arrived. I passed through the usual stops, and finally.

The warm smell of chicken nuggets invites me.

I pull out my phone and check. Ten consecutive days. I can definitely redeem a free meal today.

“Welcome, what can I get you?” The cashier asked.

“Can I have the Double Western Deluxe Combo?” “ I have the loyalty discount.”

“Thank you, here’s your number.”

After what felt like forever, they finally called my number. 

It’s a pretty big meal, but today’s situation calls for it. 

I’ve been doing pretty well sticking to a fries-only diet when I’m here. With some occasional burgers and soda thrown in, I’ve accumulated a few thousand points to have meals like this once in a while. The only downside is the bus here takes way too long. I guess it’s better than the neighbours knowing I’m a regular customer. 

As I finished the fries, I saw a guy wandering outside with my university’s gym bag.

Wait, is he from the team? 

Wait, is that Aiden?

No. Shit, Is Aiden waving to me?

He’s probably waving to someone else.

Then the door’s jingle chimes.

“Yo, I didn’t expect to see you here!” Aiden said.

My alone time is ruined.

“Yeah man, me too. What brought you here?” I asked.

“Just bought the speaker and couldn’t find any restaurants here. I thought Costco had a food court.” He looked down at my plate.

“Whatchu havin’? Oh Damnnn, that’s a chunky burger!” He said in excitement.

“Haven’t had them in years, my mom hates that shit.” 

I just wish to crawl into a hole at this point.

“Yeah, my mom hates them to-” 

“I should have one too.” Aiden interrupted.

”What?”

Then he came back with a smaller combo with a box of salad.

“Oh man, I’ve been wanting to have a taste for so long,” Aiden said with glittering eyes.

He got a few bites of the burger and fries, then moved on to the salad.

“So what are you doing this summer?” I asked.

“Oh, not much. Probably hang out with the guys. My dad wants me to go to a training camp though. It’s not like I will play football after college anyway, so what’s the point?”

Then we talk about dorm drama and who the coach is going to recommend to the NFL scouts.

He is actually quite chill to talk to. 

“You don’t like it?” I point down to his unfinished burger.

“No, it’s the best thing I’ve had in years. Definitely beating celery or carrots. I just have a diet going on, and I kinda impulse bought this.”

“I could finish it for you.” I offered.

“Really? Thank you so much dude!” He said.

“You’re actually pretty fun to hang out with. I always thought you had a stick up your ass.” He added unhelpfully.

By the time the last of his burger and fries disappeared in my stomach, I was ready to sleep it off when I got home. 

My phone rang, waking me up from sleep. It’s 2 AM.

Probably Number Seven. He always calls at an odd hour. 

I picked up the call.

“Duuuuuuude, I didn’t know you go to fast foods. I thought we don’t keep anything from each other.” Instead of number seven, Brad said.

“Jay, knock it off,” Theo grumbled on the other side of the room.

“Keep it down, Brad. What is it?” 

I knew shit would get out of the bag sooner or later. At least I had two weeks of peace.

“Next time let me join too!” Brad said.

What the hell is up with these people? 

“Fine, whatever. Let me go to sleep.”

“Thanks a lot, man. I’ve never had fast food before!”

I have the feeling that this is going to bite me in the ass later.

Brad is calling me. Again.

“Dude, what?” I asked calmly.

“Woah, no need to get so worked up.”

“I asked some of my mates, they all agreed to meet up at the mall’s parking lot,” Brad said.

What is going on? It’s only been five hours since he last called me.

“Don’t forget to bring your laptop and an empty stomach! It’s gonna be an epic summer.” Then he hung up on me.

I should be used to Brad’s bullshit by now. He’s been like this since high school.

The bus on the way there is as tedious as usual. 

Why did he tell me to go with an empty stomach? Didn’t he know that I get really grumpy without any breakfast? It’s worse now without pancakes.

He looks at me eagerly, like a dog finding its treat.

“What is it, man?” I asked as he led me to the back of the restaurant.

Then, no Harry Potter bullshit, he opened the wall.

“What the hell? There was a room back here all this time?”

“Wait, Brad. You rented a party room?”

“It’s sick, right? I thought we could chill here for the summer, and go to the river nearby when we’re bored. Oh, I also brought the guys here. And a projector!”

“How did you afford this? I didn’t know you were rich.” I look at the big ass room with my friends in there already playing video games. Even Aiden the snitch is here.

“Oh, I have a pretty successful OnlyFans account. I thought I could spend it on you guys.”

“…”

“…”

“Good for you, man. Gotta hustle in this economy.”

He ordered a party combo with a bunch of salad. Then we started playing video games. It wasn’t until I was on a losing streak playing Yoshi on Mario Kart, I realized. They were staring at me expectantly.

“What?” I asked.

“So…Can you help us finish?” Aiden said.

Oh no. Not again. I turned to look at Brad.

He responded with a toothy grin.

“Please Jay, you have, like, the biggest appetite out of all of us. Look at all this free food going to waste. I bet you’re still hungry.”

“There are five of you,” I said.

“Marcus can help,” Brad added.

“Wait, me?” Marcus said.

He’s the team’s linebacker. The only guy bigger than me.

“Fine. At least it’s free.” I said reluctantly.

The fact that all of the juicy meat is screaming for my attention might be clouding my judgment.

We continued playing games, watched some movies while I munch

It was pretty fun. I got to talk to the people I wouldn’t usually talk to.

For example, I didn’t know Braxton played piano or Oscar was a hardcore Pokémon card collector.

The rest of the summer continued and the guys would meet up about three times a week.

I should’ve said no the second time Brad asked. But how can I let the food go to waste when the guys need me?

Marcus doesn’t come often because he’s occupied with his boyfriend. So the guys developed a way for me to eat all of their share. I would drink a dubious amount of water to expand my stomach in the morning, giving me more space. 

It was incredibly stupid, but when the guys cheered me up while I devoured the last of the remains, I felt pretty proud of myself.

By the end of the summer, not wanting to waste the last of our freedom. Everyone has been scrambling for things to do.

That’s where Brad’s dad comes in. He organized a BBQ party by the beach and invited all the football Dads from high school who were still in their little group chat. Of course, we are invited too.

“Oh come on, Jay Jay. You have to go, or else I’m gonna be all alone.” Brad whined.

“No Brad. You’re gonna be with twenty people, you won’t be alone.” I replied.

“If you’re worried about not having any swim trunks that fit, you can borrow from my old man, or we could go shopping together.” Shit, he’s awfully insightful.

“Your dad is like, 500 pounds. I’m not that fat, dude.”

Then Theo asked me if he could join cause he had grown out of his swim shorts too. Whatever that means.

That’s how we ended up here with Brad showing me an ugly Hawaii print speedo with a blue Jay on it, and Theo laughing his ass off with him.

“No, I’m not going to wear that,” I said for the final time.

“You’re no fun, Jay,” Theo said.

“Right? This guy gets it.” Brad replied to him.

“So you’re the culprit who made Jay fat,” Brad asked.

”Dude, you don’t know the half of it. I basically sacrificed myself to advance his cooking career.” I added.

“I don’t know. I would think taking care of his laundry, dishes, and meals, just to have him burp in my face and snore at night makes up for it. If anything, I'm doing too much. I should stop doing the protein pancakes agai-“ 

”Theo! You’re literally the best chef in the world. I am honoured to be your Guinea pig for the rest of my life.” I said.

He smiled 

Yes! Crises subverted.

“Hahahahaha you two are so strange.” Brad, who is still listening, said.

The possibility of protein pancakes being taken away from me sends shivers down my spine. I try to refocus on Brad’s shenanigans.

He came out of the fitting room with a professional swimming Jammer.

Why did he even take his shirt off? Goddamn washboard abs.

“Don’t you think it’s too extra for the beach barbecue?” I asked.

“I think it fits him nicely,” Theo said.

“Theo, you get me,” Brad said, then winked at him.

Is he trying to rizz my cousin?

“It’s my turn!” Theo said, grabbing a few trunks he chose.

Then he came out, without a shirt too, wearing a bright orange swim shorts.

“I see you’re putting my gym membership to good use.” Goddamn washboard abs, where did that even come from? Now that I think of it, he’s been fitting my old gym clothes better.

“You look awesome, Theo. The orange fits you nicely.” Brad said.

“I guess it’s my turn,” I said without enthusiasm.

After struggling to pull it up my ass. I walked out with the ugly print forest green trunk that’s wedged between my inner thighs; with a shirt on, thank you very much.

“Woah, look at those hefty thighs,” Brad said.

I’m out of options, and there’s no way I’m walking into another swimwear store again. So we made our way to the counter.

The day for the beach finally arrives, and I can already feel the swim trunks digging into my ass.

What’s more annoying is that Mom and Dad are now angry at me.

I would be angry at myself too.

Now I’m in a car with no AC, listening to how I should make better life choices.

“Jay, I didn’t think you would sneak off for fast food without telling us.” Mom said.

She caught the extra burgers I sneaked in to munch on at night this morning.

“Jacob, don’t you remember what I told you about garbage food?” Dad asked.

He said my full name. He never says my full name.

“If you want fried chicken you could ask mom to make it. You know it’s healthier at home.” Dad said.

“Am I not making enough, Jay?” Mom asked.

“I’m sorry Mom, I know I shouldn’t go,” I said.

“Don’t worry about it, honey. We can get through this together. If you want more fried food, Theo and I will make lots of it at home.”

“I got you, Jay,” Theo said, patting my shoulder.

We finally got to the beachside. After finding a shade to park our car, Dad struggled a bit to get out of the car. It seems like the old Toyota is seeing its last days. We might need to upgrade the car soon.

I know Dad is probably not mad at me, but his disappointment was worse.

Hopefully he can forgive me after getting some barbecue in his stomach.

We started setting up the chairs with Brad’s dad as more of my high school friends and their dads started coming in. I haven’t seen most of them since we graduated.

Dad went to greet them and it looked like he fit right in.

He was the Dad everyone’s dad was jealous of but couldn’t help to like him.

I was pretty shocked when I heard Dad wanted to come because he always declined their barbecue invites. 

He was the fittest of the group, but it looks like he is one of the heavier guys here. Dad told me he’s almost 260 pounds now, so Theo and I will probably lose again this year.

I feel conflicted. I wanted to look like Dad before when he had chiselled abs, but I also want to look like him now when he has a much larger presence with the same amount of confidence. I can’t do either correctly.

“You daydreaming, bro?” Brad said.

“It’s nothing. Let’s get the boxes out,” I replied.

“Just so you know, you can tell me whatever you want, Alright?” He said.

“Thanks man, appreciate it.”

He’s too pure to know about my problem with how my abs or belly doesn’t look right.

We got the tablecloth pinned in place to withstand the wind, then set up some disposable tableware.

“Good job, son,” Dad said as he patted my back.

I smiled for the first time today.

Brad’s dad put us on watch duty for the grill while I fought not to drool on the food. 

I’ll get my share. Old people first.

“Jacob? You’re all grown up! You’re a big boy now, almost as big as me. I bet you made your father proud.” Mr. Lancaster said. 

“Mr. Lancaster, you’re here! I didn’t know you were coming.”

He used to take me to his house with Ms. Lancaster when my mom was busy, or when Dad was substituting for other teachers.

Avery and I used to-

Wait, Avery is here?

I looked around to scan everyone.

“Oh, my boy is having a problem with his car, so he is probably not coming.” Mr. Lancaster said.

“We have the same issue too; it’s been a mess. Say hello to Avery for me, eh?”

“Of course, good to see you, Jay.” He replied.

I sighed in relief. I don’t know what to say to Avery if he comes. I missed him, but I also ignored him a couple times when I spotted him at the fast food place.

We served for an hour and a half. I probably lost the 60weight pounds I’ve gained, and my stomach is definitely deflated now.

Note to self: If I ever need to lose weight again, just stare at tasty barbecues all day just to have none of it.

“Ahem. Woah cool! Look at that shiny thing over there. I’m going to go fetch it!” Brad said suddenly, then ran off.

“Wait, you still have your-“

He ditched me.

I tried to flip over both of our grills to no avail.

“You need help?”

“Ahhhhhh!”I yelped.

Ave laughs with his usual lopsided smile.

“I thought you were,” I said.

“Dead? No. I caught an Uber.” Avery said.

“Right. Long time no see.” I reached out my hand for a shake.

“Seriously, Jay? When did you start doing that shit?” Ave said.

Same old Avery then. I took my hand back and hid a grin.

He looked so different I didn’t know how to react. By the looks of it, he’s almost doubled my weight, maybe around 450s. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while. You look good.” He said.

“You looked good too.” Now that I see him closely, it suits him, makes him look sturdy. His ass is hanging out in the back like a bra though.

“What were you up to this past year?” I asked.

“Well you know, I screwed up the football scholarship. But it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to me.” He said.

“I was pretty depressed for a bit, so I decided to go on one of the self-searching trips to some countries and states...”

Then he told me about the kind people and assholes he met on the way, as we finally sat down with our share of Barbecues.

Ave said that he got to eat food he never imagined existed, learn about cultures that changed his perspective on things.

He said he has never felt freer of any emotional constraints than he is now. I couldn't stop my smile from forming. I’m really happy for him.

He has always been harsh on himself. When school didn’t work, he dedicated his all to sports. On his way there, I felt like I lost a friend.

We talked for hours about the airplane seats being a bitch and how he’s sorry for whoever sat next to him, or about how I am addicted to fast foods and pancakes. He’s probably the only one I know that can relate.

I was lost in the conversation, with Brad interrupting occasionally with strange looks of wiggling eyebrows or smug smiles. I really don’t know what he’s on.

It’s when Dad is folding up the seats, and Brad’s dad cleans up the grill. Ave asked me.

“Wanna do this again sometime? My dad’s coffee shop has a new brownie coming up that he’s really proud of.”

Yes, of course. I wanna learn more about you and be friends again.

“Sorry, men. School is going to be busy. I also need to focus on football more this year, or I will get too fat to play.” I said.

“No problem Jay. You know I’ll always be there for you.” Avery said.

I tried to one arm hug him and he fully embraced me. His body is so warm and unbelievably soft.

For a moment, I wished I was proud like him. But I’m not free like him

Gathering supplies Dad brought, I walked back to the car, forgetting to ask for his number.

The school year started without much fanfare. But the feeling of estrangement grew.

Hanging out with the team was fun, but playing the game just doesn’t bring me the same amount of rush and anticipation anymore, instead, I look forward to the meal after the game that brings me the rush. It’s not like I was playing the game much anyway; I’m a glorified Waterboy now. My job is to refuel the Gatorade or water, then squirt it into the guys’ mouths. After that, I just need to hand them the towel and sit back to finish my hot dog. 

I know the team appreciates me. I would keep doing it for them if not for Coach’s disappointing stares. He probably thought I would be a star player like Dad, but I ended up fatter than the linebacker. I would be disappointed too.

My decision was made following the buzzing call of our defeat.

Chapter 3 ->

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 7 - Black N' White Knight

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Dick tells Tim, hand carting through his hair. The two of them are in the kitchen, at the breakfast bar. Tim sitting in front of his laptop with his legs crossed, and Dick tapping one foot agitatedly against the marble floor. While Tim might not be grinning ear to ear, it’s pretty obvious for anyone who knows him that he’s delighted by the tale Dick just regaled to him.

And what a tale it was. He hasn’t seen you in a year and a half, and then when he does, he finds you teary eyed staring at a picture of him shirtless at the gym. Bruce had always told him the way he played with the paparazzi would come to bite him in the ass one day, but he really can’t say he expected… that.

Obviously, it had to be a prank. That’s his first thought. That’s his only thought, really. What other explanation could there be? An accident? Maybe you’d forgotten what his room looked like. It wasn’t like he kept much personal stuff in his Wayne manor room, the only markers his clothes and the letters he kept in his drawer from his parents.

And you were wearing his clothes, of all things. He’d be surprised if you forgot how much of a Superman fanboy he was, seeing as he’d spent many hours ranting to you before the explosion. So, a prank. A show of good will, an olive branch maybe? It was more likely you were just fucking with his head, as you’d done in the past. Never like this, though.

This was just… bizarre.

“I can’t either,” and of course, Tim sounds near estatic saying that. The love of chaos ran true in that one.

Dick had managed to wrangle his life under control a few years back, and despite the universe seeming to try to unravel it at the seams, he was indisposed to let it simply happen. Even if you of all people had changed. No, Dick was getting older, and he was finding his taste for chaos a lot more… limited.

He didn’t want to suffer it’s affects. He was currently suffering it’s affects.

“I knew something was going on when she showed up to the party, but this…” Tim pauses, leaning back in his chair, “It’s gotta be a prank, right?”

It said a lot about their family that this was all the assumption they defaulted to.

“It could be something else. Did you even take her to the hospital after?” Dick offers instead, overthinking as always. This situation seemed to be made for overthinking, though.

Tim hums. “No, we did not.”

Then he turns his stare to Dick, like he’s expecting something from him.

“Seriously?”

“What? You’re the friendly one.”

Dick very much did his best to seem like the friendly one, at least. Tim was well aware it was a complete farce, though. Dick was nice but he could also be a bit… well… a bit of a dick. Another thing he’d been trying to overcome. He was doing better than when he’d been seven, at least.

Dick sighs, pressing his hand to his forehead, “I’d probably just end up accidentally nagging her, and then she’d never speak to me again.”

“That’s not my problem,” Tim shrugs, glancing back down at his laptop and squinting.

“It is, actually. Because if she stopped talking to me you’d probably be the next one till the girls and Duke came home who has to talk to her.”

“She could talk to Jay,” Tim offers, because he’s a shithead. Dick bets he did the same with Bruce, “And besides, I’m busy doing surveillance.”

“You mean stalking.”

“I do it to everybody, stop making such a big deal out of it.”

Dick sighs again.

“Hm, you might want to check your phone,” Tim says, in a way that suggests he has once again tapped the network. Keeping him out of Dick’s private life was like Sisyphus and his boulder. He still wasn't going to give up, and the time Tim and Steph mercilessly bullied him for getting dumped over text had made him all the more so.

‘Dont_try’: hey. can you come pick me up? thx

“Please, tell me you sent that and are just messing with me,” Dick begs, staring down at his phone in mild despair. Chaos. Always fucking chaos. Despite how hard he tried, he could not keep his family out of trouble. God damn it, when he’d gotten this job he’d been the one made for trouble. Where did he go wrong?

“Honestly, sounds like the sort of thing I’d do, but the girl just got bitch slapped so I really think you should respond fast.”

“What?!”

“She’s fine now, run to the bathrooms I think. You know for such an upstate place you’d think they had better camera positioning,” Tim mutters, complaining that he can’t watch every single little movement you make. Dick thinks he should probably worry about this, as it’s a clear sign of another decline for his sanity, but he’s now got this shit to deal with.

“Why, Tim? What is going on? Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Hm?” he’s engrossed by the computer, “Ah, the shitty boyfriend… some soup- ha, how is she such a clutz? Maybe we should get her head checked again- and… an altercation of some kind? I don’t know, I can’t see it properly.”

Dick leans forward in his stool, clasped hands covering his face for a moment.

“Are you going to reply? If you don’t soon, she’ll probably make it a bigger shitshow,” Tim says, nudging his foot against Dick’s. Dick, good big brother that he is, takes a deep breath and steadies himself. Even if this is really not what he wanted for his holiday, he’s dealt with much, much worse.

The press will have forgotten about this within the week. You, however, likely not. He’d promised to help you all those years ago, and even if he had no idea why you were reaching out to him, or if you would even be amicable when you met again, he’d still damn well do it.

He glances back down at his phone.

“What is going on?” Dick repeats to himself, and Tim’s head cocks to the side. There’s that familiar cat that got the cream grin spreading across his younger brother’s face, and it just really isn’t welcome right now.

“Intrigued yet?”

Unfortunately for both him, Tim and especially you, Dick already was.

He’s in his car in five minutes flat, finger tapping against the premium leather wheel. The sound of it is the only thing that manages to keep him sane.

Riding up to the place, Dick realises that no, maybe the press won’t be over this within the week. Considering the amount of paparazzi swarming the place, he doubted you’d be free for at least a few months. To be fair, the mysterious ex-wayne making such a scene was a bit of a big deal. Before you’d been basically invisible, despite your immense wealth and past.

Invisible? Dick thinks he spots at least twenty cameras. And that’s not even mentioning all the phones inside that would’ve gotten up close videos of whatever happened. Their legal team would handle it fine, that which Barbara or Tim couldn’t wipe from the face of the earth. And that was very little, all things considered.

Dick has to push past the calls of his name, ignoring all the intrusive questions volleyed his way like the pro he was. He still makes sure to listen carefully and store away every vital bit of information, as well as remember the logos on the film crew’s van. Eventually he makes his way to the front of the line, and the flustered front of house immediately recognises his face and sweeps him inside. Dick ducks in with a thankful smile, which he admits, falters when he enters the scene.

A scene which you are not in. Your gold digging boyfriend was, though. Of all the things Dick regrets with you, it’s not breaking the horrid relationship the two of you had apart. Or well, the fact that you totally, loudly hated his guts. He was a sensitive guy, y’know!

He sees your terribly boyfriend - George, Dick remembers - raging at some poor servers, and he knows he need to go sweep in and save the pour soul. It’ll be a hard fight, he can already tell.

Before he does so, he sends a quick text to his phone.

Underwear_guy: Where are you?

Don’t_try: I’ll be right out.

Shockingly, that was the truth. You come striding into the restaurant, and immediately all eyes are on you. It makes you stutter-step. Dick can see you visibly stiffen up, before you manage to gather your courage and keep walking. You don’t even pay him a single glance as you walk straight towards your fuming boyfriend.

You try to whisper, keeping your voice quiet and your conversation private. The boyfriend seems uninterested in the idea.

“What the fuck are you thinking?!” he cuts you off.

You glance around, and then say something else. It seems like you’re trying to defuse the situation, but George seems uninterested by the idea. 

“This behaviour is ridiculous. You need to get it together, we’re in public!” he yells, like he isn’t the one causing a scene. He seems to be trying to intimidate you back into silence. But today and well, yesterday too, something is different about you.

Okay, that’s enough of that. Dick’s intervening.

“You cheated on me! You deserve it and everything that’s coming to you!”

Or, uh, maybe you’ve got it covered.

-

George’s shocked face is almost worse than when you literally bit him. Guess he expected you to be a bit more demure after that encounter. He should know better, the other version of you seemed to have been even more spiteful in nature.

Today again, you prove you are a less than stellar person. You’d stopped caring about George as soon as you’d discovered he’d cheated, but you were still angry. Not jealous, but furious. Bubbling up your throat, rage and bile and the urge to attack him once again, even if you just want to go home.

Your teeth grind. Your jaw ticks. And oddly, you realise you have a real taste for George Lancaster’s limbs.

Though your life had changed (literally) in the past few days, you were still the same girl from your first twenty-first. You wanted George Lancaster to suffer. Even more so, now that the evil cunt had hit you right in the face. The hit had stunned you, though. More emotionally than physically, but it had shocked you.

You couldn’t say you were a coward. You’d spent far too many days in your teenage years indulging in self-destructive behaviours to think that. But something about this pathetic man was scaring the shit out of you. You think that made you more pathetic, but you couldn’t quite tell. That’d be victim blaming, right?

You did have a habit of blaming yourself. It was just usually your fault.

…Maybe you shouldn’t have bit him, no matter how much the response was instinctual or his screech was satisfying. This was all too confusing, all too much. You needed to get back to your apartment, lock the doors and barricade them so nobody bothers you. And then maybe hibernate for a week. You needed some time to process all the stupid bullshit you were experiencing. The wayne manor was too much, your horrible white apartment was too much, George fucking Lancaster was too fucking god damn much.

You take a deep breath, and manage to stop yourself from bolting like a deer. Deal with the problem at hand. Deal with it now, deal with it!

“I’m leaving, and we are done. It’s that simple,” you tell George, trying to drill in a message that he seems unable to comprehend. At this point you’d assume he’d be trying to apologise, manipulate back into his good graces, but you think you might’ve completely broke him. Broke the script.

Good. That was damn well good.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else at least?” George replies, eyes flicking to Richard Grayson’s angry gaze. At least you think he’s angry. You can’t quite gather the courage to look directly at him.

Also, there’s the manipulation! You wish you weren’t right this time.

“Sure, but I’m bringing him, and my answer will absolutely not change. You hit me.”

“You bit me!”

Well, yeah, not your best moment. You don’t think you can regret it, though.

“Then I think this relationship is ending on equal terms,” you reply, trying your best to just get him to quit it. It is obviously not working by the way his expression darkens.

“I’ll tell the press everything,” George threatens, which, well, is sort of a shitty threat because I don’t even know what he’s threatening. ‘Everything’? Couldn’t he be a bit more specific?

You shrug. It is the wrong response, you know it is, but you’ve completely ran dry of fucks to give. Couldn’t be much worse than the bullshit happening right now. The press were already very well fed, considering the situation that was today. George makes a small sound of fury.

“We’ll sue,” Richard Grayson, the white knight that you’d daydreamed about, comes to your rescue. Is it odd that it’s kind of flustering? You probably shouldn’t be flustered.

George immediately snaps his gaze to Grayson’s, giving the man a look with a healthy dose of fear. Couldn’t blame the guy. Even if he was the second smallest of the three remaining brothers, he was still well known for being strong. His family often did kick-boxing, and their sister, Cass, often whooped their asses. It was sort of satisfying to watch. Anyway, his physical prowess from fighting to weirdo gymnastic bullshit was evident in his svelte build.

George was many things, but he wasn’t an idiot. With just the one threat from the Waynes legal team, he skitters away like the little rat you know him to be. He leaves the restaurant, and he very obviously does not pay or even leave a tip. You suppose you have the cash to make up for it. Then, ignoring the paparazzi, you were technically home free. You glance to the side. Richard Grayson’s beautiful face looks a mix of confuddled, frustrated, and exhausted. He still saved you, though, even after the fool you made of yourself.

White knight, indeed. It almost feels a bit anticlimactic, but it’s the results you wanted. And yet, an ominous feeling befalls you. Somehow, you don’t feel you’ve seen the last of George Lancaster. You just really hope the old you hadn’t committed any crimes. A tabloid? Humiliating, but livable. Prison? Not so much.

Not that the rich stayed in prison in Gotham, or even the rest of the world. It was kind of strange to realise you were sort of above the law now.

You glance at Dick, pulling your uncomfortably wet shirt away from your chest. You’ve sort of been bled dry of any shits you could give at this point, so you decide, very maturely, to make jokes and ignore all your problems. It had gotten you this far.

You’d seen this behaviour before. Many, many times. It was what usually got you fired. But now you didn’t really have to worry about that, so why should you worry about causing a scene and ruining your life a bit more? It wasn’t yours, after all.

“What do you think?” you joke, elbowing Dick. He looks down from glaring at the entrance George just slipped out of, to you. His blue eyes are a damn near shock to the soul. It takes everything in you not to start fidgeting.

“Think of what?” he responds, and despite how hard you try, you can not read his expression.

“I’m trying to make some more news. Don’t think the reporters got enough the other day,” you say, gesturing to the giant stain. It’s still Dick’s shirt. You hadn’t realised till now, but the Beatles was now some sort of green soup. Is it kind of gross of you to acknowledge that at least the soup smelled good?

Probably. You didn’t actually get to eat anything here. It’s also probably a bit weird that you’re thinking about eating at a time like this. Probably.

“I think you’ve done enough, honestly,” he says, glancing at the camera flashes from outside.

He sounds exactly like your mother, it’s almost uncanny. Well, this version of him technically knew her. You’re still not sure how well en-meshed your two families had been before the disaster, but maybe he’d picked up some traits from her.

…That… you’re not sure how to feel about the idea. The old green monster bubbles up at the thought, and you can’t tell if you’re jealous your mum got to meet Dick Grayson, or that Dick Grayson might’ve gotten to know your mum.

“We should leave,” he says, cutting off your bitter inner thoughts, “I know you don’t like it when the magazines bother you.”

You don’t? You don’t. Yes, that makes sense, ‘you’ definitely wouldn’t have. And it’s not like you feel comfortable with them either. In fact, if you think about the fact your drowned rat appearance will be on every tabloid in the city by tomorrow, probably alongside photos from your birthday, you feel so nauseous you could collapse. Going to compartmentalise that one.

“Yes, going, let’s go,” you say, following Dick out of the restaurant.

Despite the fact that the security guards are trying their best, it’s getting quite rowdy out here. When Dick wraps an arm around your shoulder, shielding you with his body, you almost just pass out right there. His muscles… Your heart simply can’t take it. As it is, Dick notices you jump like a foot in the air, and backs off. He still makes sure to try and protect you from their vision as much as possible.

Still, in an act that is purely rebellious, you turn and give them a big smile and a wave. Even as you hate every single person on the other side of the divide, you want to make one thing very clear. You will not be cowed by someone like George fucking Lancaster. Your peace sign and wink are a message to them, to him, and to yourself.

Despite the fact that this new life is one you have no idea how to handle, you know one thing. Put on a face, and it’ll always be easier.

Dick is probably wondering what the hell happened to you for you to be acting this way. Your shirt has a giant stain on it, you just broke up with your cheating boyfriend, went through a traumatising experience just a few days ago, and you’ve got the biggest grin on your face. This behaviour speaks more and more of a full blown mental breakdown. And it’s not the first you’ve had or the last.

There’s paparazzi snapping thousands of photos of the two of you, and instead of shying away as ‘you’ used to, you throw up a peace sign. One of the papps drops their camera. That confuses you a bit, as your peace sign deflates slightly. Didn’t they want more pictures? Weren’t you supposed to pose…?

For all you stalked celebrities online, you realise you have no idea how to pretend to be one. This is going to become an issue, you can already tell.

He points at a car, and you assume it’s his because he starts making his way over. He’s obviously done this sort of thing before, using and guiding the security with a smooth confidence. Even still, the two of you are a bit too close for comfort.

Which you prove, by putting your foot directly in your mouth.

“I don’t have abs, but do you think the press would like my stomach like they like yours?” you say, and almost immediately regret it. Another poor joke. You are deflecting so hard. And why the hell did you bring that up, you dunce? You feel your brain cells draining the more you’re around this guy, it’s not healthy for you.

“Please don’t pull your shirt up in public,” Dick sounds like he’s about to have a mental breakdown. It’s spreading, like the plague. You’re patient zero, of course. Even still he gets you guys to the car, and opens the side door for you. You follow his wordless command and slip into the passenger seat.

“I won’t. Sorry, sorry,” you reply, to relieve him of some of the trauma you’re currently inflicting.

He glances back to the papps, and then back down at you. His smile bowls you over like he’s getting the last strike in a fucking 300. He genuinely is the most beautiful human being you’ve ever seen. Thankfully, he closes the door so you have a moment to gather your sanity before he goes around the car and gets in the driver’s seat.

You hope you’re subtle when you shift away from him slightly. It shouldn’t be that surprising really. You were stupid on average. You would be stupider around attractive people. You would be frankly disastrous around someone as blastingly hot as Dick Grayson. The Waynes in general turned you into a drooling idiot.

Good god, you need to get out of this car. As soon as you think that, Dick is pulling away from the parking spot and out onto the streets. He makes slow progress because Gotham traffic, but eventually you manage to flee the horrifying stares of the cameras. Already you can tell it’ll be giving you nightmares. Probably along with images of the guy who tried to rape you and Damian Wayne sneering at you.

“So, how are you feeling?”

Despite how you wish it not, Mr. Grayson decides he’s going to start a conversation with you.

“Good,” you reply, the answer instinctive and an obvious lie.

You can feel his gaze on the side of your face, but you don’t dare return it.

“That’s good to hear,” he says, and his voice is gentle. Sort of infantilising if you’ll be honest.

While it is very clear to anyone who looks at you that you have no idea what you’re doing, you’d rather he didn’t bring it up. You’ll figure it out. You’ve always managed to figure it out. This is what you get for asking for help. Really, despite your momentary panic you could’ve taken George. Probably not physically, but…

“You can talk to me if you want, you know?”

“Can you stop the car, please?” you respond, when that question immediately activates your fight or flight response. Dick must notice something about you, because he quickly shoots forward and into a momentarily available parking spot.

You scramble with the door, shoving your way back out onto the asphalt. The immediate distinct smell of Gotham, even Gotham’s richer districts, calms you down. Sewage, the ocean, and the ever present smoke and fog.

Fuck’s sake. You aren’t making yourself look anymore well put together.

Clearing your throat, you turn and find Richard Grayson coming around the car hood towards you. There’s a worried look in his eyes, and you really don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like you made a deal with the devil. By getting rid of George, you’d gotten a new problem - and an infinitely more complicated one.

Shit, you need to stop making rash decisions when you’re having panic attacks. You’d say you should probably try and stop having panic attacks entirely, but you don’t really know how to do that.

The sound of your name has you snapping back to attention. Dick looks even more worried.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks, taking a few slow steps towards you. Again, infantilizing. Like you’re a wild animal about to run. Wait, weren’t you just comparing yourself to a chihuahua? Well, it’s not the same when other people do it.

“I’d like to take a walk,” you say, hand scrunching into your pyjama pants, “Alone, I’d like some time alone.”

“…In that?” He glances down at the stain that is slowly starting to dry. It’s making your skin itchy, but at least it’s not as cold.

“I can buy something,” you say, remembering one of the apps on your phone was connected to your bank account, which you had to assume was pretty full. It’s kind of stupid that you haven’t checked that yet.

You’re starting to feel a bit defensive towards your own intelligence. Maybe it’s because you seemingly keep making all the worst decisions.

Dick doesn’t make it any better.

“Do you have cash on you?” he asks, showing how little faith he has in your general abilities to survive as an adult in Gotham.

“I do, I’ll be fine,” you insist, because god damn it, you will be. You just need a fucking minute.

You ran from the Wayne manor because you felt like you were being watched, and then as soon as you showed up at the world’s most uncomfortable apartment, the haunting wraith known as George dragged you out in your P.J.s. You could figure it the fuck out, if these people would give you some fucking space.

Richard Grayson seems to realise that you’re getting upset, because he goes quiet for a moment. After staring at you for a moment longer, for which you manage to find the courage to maintain eye contact through pure stubborn will, he asks you one final question.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride home or something?” he asks, still seeming so determined to help you.

His suggestion brings flashes of images of you breaking down in front of the Bruce Wayne to mind. From almost a birds eye view, you see yourself sobbing against your own ruined dress as the billionaire looked on. Bile literally jumps up your throat, and it takes a lot of willpower not to grimace at the suggestion.

“Look, Mr. Grayson, I really appreciate-”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that.”

Once again, you feel the urge to simply sprint away from your own problems, but you manage to hold yourself still. Still, you can’t think of a solution. You can’t really think much of anything. Instead you stare at Richard Grayson with your hands threaded together and your lips pressed into a thin line.

Though you open your mouth to speak, you find you have no excuses ready or available. You’ve talked yourself into a corner already, and it’s your third day in this world. Marvellous. Maybe you should just tell the truth.

Still, the dangers outweigh the pros. They don’t know you, they don’t have any real reason to take care of you. If they believe you, they’ll toss you out onto the streets penniless. And if they don’t-

You blink. There’s a highway sign behind Dick, and it catches your attention like a lightning bolt. ‘Arkham Asylum 800 miles’. It’s white blocky letters on green panelling feels like a sign from god, warning you from the path you consider taking.

And then you realise that you might actually get sent to Arkham if you say anything, and you resolve to never tell a single soul about what has happened to you. You’ve heard enough stories about the asylum, and by god, you are not being roommates with the fucking Joker of all people.

Eventually Dick realises he’s not getting anything out of you and he sighs, shaking his head. His annoyingly perfect hair mesmerises you for a second, but you manage to wrangle your brain back under control. He really doesn’t make it easy.

“I just want to know if you’re safe. If you’re going through anything, you know we’re always happy to help-”

“Dick,” you say his name, face twisting in discomfort, “This was a… a one time thing. Usually I can handle my problems. It just… it caught me off guard. George cheating was a huge shock, and I needed someone to stand by me.”

“And you know I always will, right?”

Ah. That’s… Dick Grayson was a stranger. You didn’t know him, and more than that he did not know you. He did not know what you would do, could do. You didn’t think anyone did, not even yourself.

It’s a silly idea to expect your celebrity crush to save you, and it’s one you find you can’t stomach it at the moment. It makes you feel disgusted with yourself at the idea. It’s too indulgent, too silly. It’s very simply, not possible.

You’ve given up on relying on miracles. These lessons had been beaten into you, really. You didn’t want to have to learn them again.

Your feelings must show on your face.

Dick lets out a whoosh of air, frustration palpable. He carts his hand through his hair. It still looks perfect. The world is unfair, yadda yadda.

“You run hot and cold, you know?” he gives you a grin. It says a lot about his ability to act, seeing as it seems almost natural. Almost, being the key word.

Also, he is absolutely correct. The chihuahua effect is in full-swing. And you know what? You are probably going to continue to run hot and cold, because you’ve never made a decision in your life. He’ll just have to get used to it.

You raise your hands and shrug, in the universal ‘what-can-you-do?’ motion. He wasn’t wrong. You were being completely erratic. Not even you knew what you’d do next. At least life isn’t boring these days, right Right? You wonder who you are trying to fool, because it’s certainly not yourself.

“I’ll contact you if I need anything,” you lie, because it seems to be the right thing to end this torturous conversation, “And I’ll make sure to keep contact with Alfred. You can talk to Jeanine if you need anything, as well.”

Dick, unfortunately, calls you out on your bullshit.

“But not you, right?” he says, smile still printed on his face.

Woof. You think… you’ve hurt his feelings? Ah shit, you instantly feel like the scum of the earth. Still, you don’t know how you could fix this. Arkham is a genuine threat lingering over your shoulder, you don’t know enough about your new cut-throat billionaire world, and you can not lose any faith they have in you. Any that you have left, that is.

You’re sorry, but this is coming down to survival. And you are a greedy person, after all.

In the end, you don’t have anything to say, and Richard Grayson leaves without a word. Watching him walk towards his car, you feel… bad. Really bad. The part of you that is still crushing on this guy, a very large part of you, feels like you’ve ended the earth. The other part, the one that recognises that once again you’re going to have to fight for yourself… well, she thinks so too.

Maybe… maybe you could fix this. Apologise. Once you’ve gotten your bearings and know you’re safe and 100% financially stable, maybe you’ll figure it out. Give him his shirt back after you’ve dry-cleaned it.

For now, you give him your back as well.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[mercif4l]

𝗰𝗿𝘆𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 — kmg

MDNI, this blog is for 18+ users only. blank blogs will be blocked.

pairing: afab!reader x kim mingyu

word count: 3.5k

summary: sometimes it's hard to say what you want. sometimes, mingyu is just being insufferably coy.

content warning: more smut, slight angst, boyfriend!mingyu, nudity, explicit sexual acts (dirty talk, dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex), discussions about contraception, dacryphilia(?), dom/sub dynamics, slight degradation, pet names, sub!mingyu is losing his mind

a/n: hugely inspired by @highvern who made my soul sparkle when i read the 'teach me' series and then had to get all my feelings out in a self-indulgent gyu fic. ty once again to @beomcoups and @wonuwoe for being my champions <3 and for your patience! hope this is even a little bit as special for you to read as it was for me to write ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

Broad, brawny, strapping young idol, Kim Mingyu. The very image of a gym rat, filling every space he enters twice the size of everyone else; A true BFG. 

And a total mess beneath your gaze as you ride his fingers without rest, legs bucking you up every time he presses against your g-spot and sends stars flying up your body and out through your mouth. 

Mingyu has always admired (envied, resented, adored) your self control. It makes him feel like a horny loser for never lasting as long as you do, and eternally grateful that he can stay hard after cumming just to feel you palpitate around him with your quiet, quivering sighs, launching him into another orgasm even more devastating than the last. 

When you’d first got together and had the sex safety talk, you told him he could ‘just pull out’, and in that moment he’d felt relatively confident about his abilities. But then he’d felt you, and tasted you, and before you could even get your panties off, he was leaking more precum than felt humanly possible.

You’d agreed to take birth control to curb his crippling fear of coming inside unexpectedly. And for your own peace of mind. Which seemed easier settled than his, frighteningly resigned to the side effects that birth control might bring — a concern he wouldn’t let you neglect, encouraging you to attend regular check ups every other month. 

Eventually you told him that while it was endearing he cared so much, it could feel a little overbearing from time to time. It still took a boat load of convincing to get him on board with the pill. You’d said you knew the risks, and while it was unfair there was no male equivalent, you’d shown no abnormal reaction to the pill and were an adult; you knew well enough how to take care of yourself. How you cared a whole lot about your body, and his misled doting could border on condescension if he wasn’t careful. 

(He’d put on a brave face for your conversation, never wanting to make it about himself, then cried to his mom on the phone later that day about how selfish he’d been. She told him to get over it and to try being a woman.) 

Perhaps if he was a woman he’d be in less pain right now. Watching you wind down over a glass of wine like he wasn’t sulking up a fit, his cock so hard that it crooned against his boxers. 

Despite his size and laid-back demeanor, he’s always been a bit bashful. Blushing at the slightest pinch of attention and covering his face with his jersey over some good-natured teasing. It was too bad he’d made himself such an easy target over the years. Any attempt to become non-chalant was at odds with every preexisting relationship in his life and was imminently met with even more teasing. 

Still, no one makes him feel as embarrassed as you do. It’s like a sick cycle. You peek one second too long at his lips and his ears turn pink, making you grin, filling his chest with a familiar ache and making his dick purr.

“Excited, Gyu?” you’d asked him just an hour ago, sat squished together on the lounge loveseat. Your hand poised on his thigh as he tried not to salivate over your compliments. You’d just been doting on him over his latest interview, head heavy with giggles as you rolled around and gushed about your ‘gorgeous boyfriend’ . You’d been particularly tickled by the discussion of ‘Men in their 20s’, Mingyu’s input being as loathing as you’d expect. Once you’d had your fun imitating his exasperated response, you pet his hair like he was a well-trained dog and scratched under his chin for good measure. 

That’s where this particular spiral started. 

The bristle of your nails against the hollow of his jaw left him struggling not to pant. It hadn’t been two days since you’d last touched him, and already he was feeling a little lightheaded. This didn’t stop him from tucking his tail between his legs and pretending to be a good, placid, boy. Eyes all round and twinkling like a deer in headlights; mouth agape as he tries to say that dinner is in the fridge and he’d happily heat it up for you as soon as you’d—

Then, you’d raked those same hands over his neck. And like a never-before-touched-40-year-old-virgin, he let out a pornographic whimper, curling into you with legs spread just wide enough to display the stiff beneath his shorts.

“My puppy, what’s wrong?” 

Instead of answering, he purses his lips and takes a few short, constricted breaths. Closing his eyes as if he can will this whole situation away (or to a head) by pretending it doesn’t exist.

“Can’t help you if you won’t talk to me, Gyu.” 

It was his least practiced skill: just fucking saying what he wants. He’s always too caught up in how turned on you make him or how vulnerable he feels. How deeply he enjoys the way you look at him with the eyes of a predator, and how hot he gets at the thought of being your prey.

“Gyu. Slow down.” For a man with the body mass Mingyu possesses, he’s always had a lack of spatial awareness. Bumping into the kitchen island every other morning; bonking heads in the elevator when he tries to give you a forehead kiss; generally not noticing injuries until he’s flexing in the bathroom mirror and a large bruise has appeared where once there was nothing.

His sex drive was no exception. He grinds against the cotton of his trousers without a single thought, even now as you lay your hand heavy against his throat and mock him for it.

“Such a desperate little puppy, can’t even breathe, humping yourself like a bitch in heat.”

With his airways partially blocked and his eyes squeezed shut, this friction feels almost as good as your hand might. 

“Stop.” This time, the instruction is clear, the heel of your palm digging into his hip bone and forcing him to sit still. He trembles like an injured animal and you don’t hide your snort; the sound is like a bitter spirit left on his salivary glands and it only makes him more liquid in your arms.

“Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll help you, bug.”

“M’sorry, can’t…” 

“Gyu.” It’s a firm warning and still he bites his tongue in resistance:

“I— Fuck… ngh, can’t, I can’t—“

Working himself up over something as simple as wanting to be touched… Well, it makes you wonder if he enjoys being punished. Tears already trail down his temples, thick and heavy as they fall into his damp hair, and every time you lick at the salty water he bucks up into nothing again.

There’s only one way this is going to end. At this rate, with how you’re repeating his favorite nickname in the arch of his ear, the idea of playing nonchalant seems hilarious. How could he ever stay quiet or, god forbid, composed with you around?

It wasn’t always this way, mind you. Communication was a huge part of your relationship. Of course that included acknowledging anything that made you feel ashamed or unattractive. Physical, taboo, emotional: when one of you got shy, you were given a week of grace to iron things out, then you’d have to face the music and let the other in. It didn’t matter how. Actually, there were an infinite amount of ways to sort things out and you were both sticklers for likelihoods and probabilities.

But after six months, Mingyu still couldn’t verbalize his needs. The two ways he’d express himself were whimpering at inopportune moments or folding his legs extra tight until you got the idea. Initially, it was endearing; even after all this time, it’s still sweet and adorable (and a little bit of a turn-on). It sure gave you ample ground to assert your dominance over him. It also gave you a lot to tease him about after the fact. But in some ways, it suffocated you. In some ways, it made you feel gross for controlling the narrative. 

“Actually,” you reckon with a tone so disinterested he isn’t sure how to recognize it as your voice: “I don’t feel like this right now.” 

Then you cross your legs and shuffle across the couch, plucking your phone from the coffee table to retreat inside of it. You’re sure there was an abandoned webtoon chapter to keep you distracted. Anything to quell the bile rising in your throat. 

Before he has a moment to recognize how blue his balls are, Mingyu makes the most sorrowful sound you’ve ever heard. Your head whips around, and what you find is devastating: the big lug has his knees tucked to his chest with his hands squishing against his cheeks. His pearly teeth are gnashed together but barely visible behind his forearm as his shoulders shudder, up and down, up and down.

“Please, please, don’t stop… touching, me, need… Please don’t stop, want you— can you?” and when his begging ends in a whisper of your name, your resolve snaps. You slide onto the ground, hands weaseling between his knees as you look up at him through bleary eyes of your own. 

“Gyu?”

“no, no, I’m sorry, I know. Know I’m the worst — so stupid,”

While you expect him to react poorly, this was not the way you’d wanted it to go. The tears that leave his eyes aren’t pleasant or cathartic-they’re crushing. The weight of his sobs makes him look so so small, and his shoulders twitch at your slightest touch, and now you feel even sicker. But you hold it in, knowing that there’s no way he’ll calm down without a steady hand guiding him.

“Mingyu, breathe baby. Breathe. Let’s just try to breathe together.” 

It only takes a few rounds of counting in squares to wind him down, after which he wipes his tears roughly and clears his throat. 

“Sorry for—“ 

“It’s okay to cry. I’m sorry for overwhelming you. And stopping so suddenly.” A small point of contact between you remains at the apex of his ankle and the soft of your hand. It’s not enough but it’s the only thing that reminds him to breathe. 

“I know—know it’s okay to cry.” 

You snuffle a giggle at his pouty response; “I know you know it’s okay to cry. But sometimes we don’t feel that way, y’know.” 

God. You’re so stupidly smart. So patient with him. God, he’s in love with you. And he’s such a mess.

“Of course… Of course I want to say it,” he tries to avoid your gaze but the fingers now pressing on his calf won’t let him. 

“Want to tell you what I want. But I’m really.. I’m so scared. Scared and not really of you, even though it’s kind of hot when I am, but something about it feels… wrong?” 

You listen without interrupting him or egging him on, chuckling when it seems appropriate and nodding as he trips over his words in worry.

“Like I’m… being like, I dunno, I’m not being the man? Or… something.

His hesitation is filled with sniffles against the overpriced hoodie he’d purchased just a week before. He’ll curse himself out for that later, undoubtably. Good thing he has the knack for a good hand wash.

—But I want to… I wanna try. Can I try?” 

“Now?”

“Mm… want you now.” 

Hearing it from his mouth for the first time in so long sends a bright red flush all over you. Your head dips low as a coy grin replaces that wrinkle between your brows you’d been keeping warm. Mingyu settles his focus on your face to avoid any more distractions. The demure purse of your lips is more than enough to encourage him to continue. Even if he stutters in anticipation a bit along the way.

“So beautiful. I, I love your smile, makes me feel so warm and…weird? Good weird, just like I wanna kiss you all the time. And look at you smiling. And at the same time, smiling at me, and I love it when I feel your tongue on mine, fuck, when I feel your tongue at all” 

His words flow freely as you stretch your legs over his and settle in his lap. His hands move in even strokes down your sides and arms and thighs, gently cupping your face as he admires you. Well, it certainly seems like he’s getting the hang of it. 

“S’all I can think about when I get sweaty… So weird, but I get sweaty and I imagine you licking it off me, shit, look at how pretty you are, shit, shit,”

As he hears himself, he suddenly feels like he could wax poetic for hours (or ramble, whatever this was). If it meant making you look as pleased as you do right now, he’d happily make a living out of it. 

“Can I touch you? So beautiful, wanna feel ya…” The drawl of his accent gets thicker as he rambles on.

“You sure, puppy?” After all that emotional exhaustion it feels a bit strange to be so intimate. The last thing you want is for him to smother his feelings with sex. But then you see the conviction in his flared nostrils and set lips; the very face he makes when you’ve had a bad day and insist everything is fine. When all he ever wants is an excuse to shower you with his love. 

“Yes. F’you’ll let me?” And when he asks so nicely, who are you to deny him?

There’s a slight back and forth as he tries to unbutton your jeans as fast as possible and it all goes so quickly you don’t really register how awkward it is, wiggling out of them in his lap on the couch. But Mingyu’s athleticism never fails him, especially in moments like these. 

The foray over your sticky panties has him searching maniacally for some purchase beneath you. He rubs and pulls and taps until you’re canting into his knuckles sporadically. By the time he’s pulled them to the side and gathers your wetness in his grip, he might be the hardest he’s ever been. 

“God, gonna, wanna make you cum—can I please? Show you?” 

It’s your turn now to be silent, nodding profusely into his cheek as you nibble at his earlobe. There’s one sentiment you refuse to voice in this moment, as the pad of his thumb zeroes in on your clit and drags it in circles: that you’re cooked. You’ve never been this wet in your life, and if you had an ounce of self-awareness left in you, you’d shudder at the slick mess you’ve made. Or the blown out pupils lolling to the back of your head. Or the saliva that drools down your chin in excess and slings onto his. 

But Mingyu is no better: if you weren’t sitting atop him, a dangerous puddle of his own precum would be proudly on display. Somehow the thought turns him on even more. 

“Could come like this, in my pants, nnghh, but I wanna, wanna do it while you ride my fingers, can you…” 

“Fuck! Gyu, just gimme—“ The sentence dies before its finish as he takes your excited exclamation and sprints. The longest of his four fingers push into your hole to fit snugly against your walls, pulsing against him like they’re welcoming him home. 

“Love feeling you on me, my fingers, my—nngh, my cock, made for me, made for you” It comes out a sadistic whine while he bullies them into you with that same doe eyed look.

“Got so much to do, wanna do, wanna make—“

“Gyu, s’good. So good. All mine.”

“Yours. All yours, f’you’ll have me? Have me?”

The words circulate from your empty head straight to your core and you swear, you could cry. He keeps pleading for you to have him and take him and the fever of it all overwhelms you.

In the fissure between the pit of your stomach and where all this untenable excitement likes to linger, something weird begins to coil. Heating so rapidly that you have no time to warn him of it. One moment you’re there, and then next, you’re not; You’re somewhere where there’s color as far as the eye can see, and all you can feel is bliss. Once you do manage to open your eyes, you notice the pool of liquid that now sticks his tank top and pants to his lower belly and thighs. 

Well, shit. You just squirted. And in record time, Mingyu might add. Was this all he had to do to get you riled up? Just divulge his every wet dream and watch you crumble beneath (or atop) him?  

You don’t even double take his soaked white shirt, now stuck to his abdomen with slick, or the dampened the seat of his pants that leave very little to the imagination. You’re wasted with the whiplash of everything that has just happened and truthfully, you couldn’t care less. 

The only thing that brings reality back to your conscience is the continuing buck of his hips.

“My baby, did so good. You wanna cum?” 

“Yes!” He’s squeaking at this point, a pile of incoherent pet names and wet moans. He could probably come in his pants if you hadn’t suggested otherwise, just happy to be in close proximity to you like this: Soaking his clothes and skin and all sweaty all over him. 

Mingyu is so distracted by the image that he barely notices the sticky feelings of his trousers being pulled off. 

“Hands are shaking, m’sorry, your hands—“ 

“I know Gyu. It’s okay.”

There’s no space for him to hold you til you’re steady—his primary concern—with your entrance fluttering over him, still reeling from your orgasm. An ache he didn’t even realize was there is relieved the moment you stretch around him. Welcoming him home. He really could die happy like this: admiring the curve of your chin from below and so, so warm. The image of you, anchoring yourself on his shoulders and hips settled between his, is one he’ll be haunted by forever. 

“Go.” You say it with the last of your energy and a firm bite to his neck. 

He doesn’t need any further instruction; he’s so fucking glad you’ll still tell him what to do. 

The rhythm he sets is animalistic. Heaving and whining and fucking up into you with more force than you’d expected him to be capable of. Something feral takes over your boyfriend and you wish you had the energy to watch it. Maybe you’ll just have to do this all again with a camera filming. God, that would drive him absolutely insane.

With the pace and how worked up he’s become, it’s no surprise when he pulls out a few minutes later to come. Strong arms yank you down and suddenly you’re sat on top of his cock, grinding it against his stomach with his direction.

“Coming, I’m, nnngh fuck!” Mingyu’s voice rises about two octaves as he finishes in white all over his belly. It spurts out long enough for you to feel the aftershocks. In his shivering thighs, in his clenched abs, and the overstimulated cries that catch in his throat.

It may take a long time to recover, but you’re grateful for the break. When Mingyu stands from the couch with you in his arms, you already know he’s taking you to the shower. He strips you as carefully as he can muster and grimaces at the messes made of you both in the harsh overhead light. 

“You shower first.” It’s the first thing you’ve said in a while and he seems bewildered; not just by your wary voice, but by the idea of taking care of himself before taking care of you. So cute, you think. But you refuse to let up. You take a towel from the heated rack and gather all of your clothes in it, holding the sack out as if to say ‘add it to the pile’. Once he’s naked you shove him gently towards the running water and drag yourself out to the laundry room. It only takes a few seconds before you hear those long feet shuffling behind you. 

“Don’t even think about it. I’ll be right back.” 

A silence lingers and you know full well he hasn’t turned back just yet. Alright. You’ll coax him through this part. 

“I’ll shower with you. Just make sure it’s warm for me?” He giggles at that. All it takes is making something a task for Mingyu to thrust himself into it, full force. The retreating footfall that follows is more than enough to make you smile. And laugh, just a bit. 

“Thank you, Gyu.” 

“Anything for you.”

penned by rowan. in reference to this interview among other things.

[planetaryupscaled]

Tutoring

Male Reader x Park Sooyoung (Joy)

Tags: 12k, age-gap, cheating, creampie, cuckold, oral

The story is not ours; we simply alter the original story to our preferred settings.

Sooyoung had just writing her personal report for the day while sitting in an empty classroom. It was convenient way for her to track the progress of the various classes throughout the week.

She was almost done, just finishing with some constructive remarks about some of the lower-performing students. She glanced outside the classroom window as she placed the tip of her pen in her mouth to think of something to add. She noticed a young man in an oversized hoodie walking towards the school building, constantly looking down at his phone. It was Minho. What was he doing here after school ended?

Sooyoung finished her report, closed her notebook, and placed it in her bag. She walked out and noticed me standing in the hallway, just outside the school office door. I leaned against the wall as I put my phone back in my pocket.

“What are you doing here?” Sooyoung asked as she approached me.

She wore matching black yoga pants and a sport bra, her voluptuous figure provided plenty to look at. We were the only two people in this hallway, The bell had just rung earlier, and the rest of the staff had left for the day.

“What does it look like? I need tutoring,” I said, my smile betrayed my true intentions.

Sooyoung couldn’t help but flustered. She was always a confident woman, but my brazenness was something she didn’t know how to handle... especially after taking my load on her face and seeing each other’s private areas. But the deal was a deal. She’d jerk me off today, and it’d be a week before the next time.

“We can’t do anything here,” Sooyoung whispered, even though no one was around. “I know we made a deal, but we can’t do that here! I could get suspended!”

“So do I, relax I’ve only got twenty minutes until football practice. How about we sneak to this empty classroom and knock it out real quick? You’re tutoring me, so it’s not suspicious that we’re in a classroom,” I suggested, eager to get started.

Sooyoung shifted her feet, unsure. It’s true that nobody would have expected anything funny, but we’re still at school... And anyone can walk in at any time! No, it’s not going to happen. She’d let her emotions and libido get the best of her last time, she needed to be stronger now. And it was not worth jeopardizing the job she’d worked so hard for. Sooyoung swallowed dryly.

“I’m sorry, Minho,” she sighed, frowned regretfully.

“Well... okay, I guess we can take care of it in your car instead. A deal is a deal, and time is ticking. “I’ve been thinking about it all day,” I explained.

“Can’t it wait?!” she asked.

“No, I will not go to football practice like this.” I answered matter of factly.

“Minho, I don’t want to do it at all,”

“Should’ve said that to your husband. Come on. We made a deal, and I’m not taking no for an answer”

She turned away, feeling cornered.

She silently cursed her husband and his stupid fantasy and replied, “Okay, fine. But please. Twenty minutes, nothing more. And I’m even doing it in the car. No silly shenanigans. And remember no intercourse. Got it?”

“Yeah, of course. Lead the way, ma’am.” I replied, smiling.

Sooyoung couldn’t believe what she was doing. Leading her student to her car so she could give him a handjob. Fortunately, she had parked quite discreetly behind the corner. Anyone leaving the school would not notice them. But what if people found out what they were doing here? That would be disastrous.

Sooyoung told me to get in the car. I did so. She didn’t bother jumping in; instead, she stood in the doorway. Nobody would see us, and if they did, it would be from the opposite side of the car.

“Now lay back and relax,” she said with a smile.

I qucikly took off my gym shorts and underwear, Sooyoung grabbed my cock and began to stroke it, focusing on the head and my balls. She started with quick, easy jerks and gradually slowed down to a smooth, sensual movement. I groaned with delight as her silky married hands touched my throbbing member.

“Twenty minutes,” she reminded herself.

She glanced over at me who looked relaxed as my hips raised up and down against her hand. Sooyoung worked so smoothly, running her fingers along the tip and length of my cock. She couldn’t get over how big I was. When she imagined taking something so big into her body, she felt a hot shiver of nervous excitement run through her body. Knowing she’d chosen such a brazen boy to be intimate with, gave her goosebumps all over. But the rules were there for a reason. This allowed her to protect her morals and principles while also exploring them.

“Spit on it,” I muttered.

“Sorry, no,” she responded almost immediately.

“I said, spit on it, or at least kiss it or something. You’re chafing me,” I commanded. Sooyoung gulped, unused to being bossed around.

“It’s filthy,” Sooyoung said in a low voice, continuing the steady pumping. She was enjoying my cock in her hand, its size and mass. But to kiss it? That’s a no no.

“And me giving you head in your bedroom was clean? If you don’t...” I warned.

“Fine. I won’t kiss it but I guess I can... give some spit...” she sighed and stopped for a moment, then bent down over my cock.

She leaned in and let out a small dribble onto my throbbing member. The precum mixed with her saliva caused my cock to glisten and drip all over, with slicker sounds filling the small space between us. Sooyoung's rhythm became faster.

“I love your little hand. Mmmh... fuck that is nice..." I hissed through clenched teeth.

“Hahh,” Sooyoung snickered, staring down at my cock, admiring it. “So, is this better than any girl your age?”

"Much better… I would deepthroat you right now, if you like, You have the perfect face to fuck," I moaned desperately.

"Oh god, no, no mouthfucking," Sooyoung groaned somewhat annoying.

I smirked and began to whisper in a leering tone, staring at her while she focused on jerking me “Your body is nice, you know? I like those jeans you wore before; they make your butt stand out. A nice, curvy fat ass. You definitely have that.”

Sooyoung felt a hand firmly grab one of her ass cheeks. She nearly stumbled and leaned in, giving me enough leverage to grab it. Sooyoung swatted my hand away while continuing to stroking my cock. I laughed but moved my hand back to her firm ass.

“You jerk,” Sooyoung scoffed.

“Say you want my cock, slut” I groan and slap her ass.

“Minho, stop! Hand to yourself.” She said as tried to stop me playing with her fat ass.

She resumed her pumping on my cock as my hand returned to her ass cheeks once more, now she just shaking her head, rolling her eyes.

“You’re such a naughty teacher, look at you, jerking me off in your car.” I said.

Sooyoung gave me an angry look but yet she continued to pump my cock faster and harder. She knows she shouldn't have let me touch her body, but with her husband fantasy in her head, Sooyoung surrendered control to her subconscious.

I squeezed and spanked both her cheeks harder this time as if proving my point that she couldn’t, or shouldn’t resist my... helping hand.

“Guys at school wouldn’t never believe a teacher like you can be this... fucking… slutty. You just can't stop thinking about my cock, can you?” I taunted.

Sooyoung scoffed. “As if I hardly notice that thing,” she replied.

She leaned in as she continued the strokes and let another dribble land on it, she added a little twist and grind at my cock head. She pumped and pumped, while my hands never left her butt, I groped and squeezed it even harder, my fingers sinking into her round fat ass.

“Oh yeah, Sooyoung, just like that,” I said, almost whispering.

“Shush,” Sooyoung reprimanded me on instinct, hearing me mention her name made her feel even worse. She felt as if we were becoming intimate.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna-”

Sooyoung increased her speed, stroking harder, leaning closer for leverage. I looked down at her, my chest rising and falling with my quick breaths. My fingers caressed her ample globes, while my other and started rubbing at her covered cleavage. Sooyoung was completely captured by the pleasure she was giving me, unable to wrench herself away.

And then I finally blew, shooting giant ropes high up, some splashing against her clothed chest. My hand groping her ass, pushing her forward even further, making the stinky mess even more inescapable.

“Oh fuck Minho, come on! My clothes!” Sooyoung said, rolling her eyes with a defeated sigh, though never stopping her strokes.

I was panting and grunting as I unloaded my seed. The last few spurts leaked out and trickled down along her hand. A couple of drops hit her sleeve too. “That’s so much,” Sooyoung groaned annoyedly, looking at her now completely stained hands. Even her wedding ring glittered underneath the thick coating.

“Shouldn’t have worn something so... easy to stain. That’s on you,” I laughed. “Can’t dress like that with me around.”

“Yeah, whatever. You got what you came for. Now please leave,” Sooyoung said.

I chuckled but left her car without complaint. I sauntered back towards the school for my football practice.

—

Sooyoung let the week crawl by without any more thought of our illicit encounters. With all that went on in the classroom, the parents’ evening, and her after-school yoga and Pilates club, running with her favorite student and neighbor, Sooyoung found the time passed swiftly by. Before she knew it, the next week was near. We hadn’t really talked about when the next encounter would be.

I didn’t even contact her until Tuesday. I wrote ‘‘Are you home?’

When Sooyoung looked at her husband, he only smiled and nodded. It was enough permission. ‘‘Yes, come over.’

And just like that, I came strolling inside their house once more.

“Hi ma’am,” I greeted her, entering the kitchen.

Sooyoung leaned back against the table, smiling politely at me. She was wearing a white, fitted shirt and navy trousers, accentuating her gorgeous physique. The loose waves of her dark hair were draped casually over her shoulders, as a thin coat of lip gloss coated her lips.

“What’s up?” Sooyoung asked, trying to keep her composure, her smile on, and not to let me dominate her thoughts like last time. “So, you’ve come here for another tutoring session?” Sooyoung asked, playing coy.

I approached her at the dinner table, a bulge protruding from my shorts, totally ignoring Hyoseob who stood a bit further away in the open kitchen, just watching. Sooyoung shifted her glance at him, sending her husband a coy smile before focusing her attention back on me, whose hands were suddenly all over her butt again. Sooyoung giggled nervously as I grabbed a firm handful and groped her shamelessly. It was so different with Hyoseob right there. It was an assurance that me groping her was perfectly fine, and she had to admit she was glad it was.

“Wh--What are you doing!” Sooyoung asked, keeping her cool, acting outraged as my cock pressed against her thigh through my shorts.

“I didn’t get you off last time,” I said.

Sooyoung puckered her lips playfully, continuing to shake her head, making herself chuckle. But I am was done messing around and her playful manner only spurred me on.

I picked her up like she weighed nothing and placed her back on the dinner table. She was giggling wildly, allowing me to tug her pants and panties down her shapely, toned legs. I then spread her legs, wasting no time, I started eating her out... She yelped. It was wrong, filthy.

“ohh, so good…” she moaned.

Sooyoung groaned loudly, throwing her head back as my tongue deep into her warmth, nibbling at her clit before driving back up into her gushing pussy. She immediately felt the fiery sensations begin to ignite and grow. I held her by the hips, thrusting my face and tongue into her. Her chest heaved and bucked, a high-pitched gasp escaping her. Her shirt rode up from the friction.

The wickedness of what she was letting happen consumed her. My skill brought her to orgasm quickly. My fingers were splayed over her butt cheeks, nails digging into the skin. One hand squeezed each plump buttock and parted them wide to expose the tender flesh. With a savage growl, I tongued her open pussy, and dug deep, my teeth scratching the edges as I gnawed and ate her. Sooyoung yelped, moaned, and whined at the most horrible thing ever, a dirty secret of what should’ve been an affair and a taboo infraction of her marriage’s holy sanctity. The utter thrill of what she was letting go down, not for the first time, would normally have appalled her, but succumbing to Hyoseob’s powerful, yet wicked desires drove her to enjoy every second of it.

But now, with the pleasure mounting and spreading its tentacles, her mind had to focus on one thing: more. She grabbed the edge of the table, gripping it so hard that her knuckles turned white. The squishing and licking was the most awful sound to the ears. Her leg bounced, her heel beating hard against my back. Sooyoung’s mind was blank, only thinking of that voracious mouth feasting on her.

I licked slowly and wetly, tongue darting in and out of her opening, covering her in saliva, lathering her folds with my spit. At every withdrawal, Sooyoung’s hips rose off the table to meet me, wanting the pleasure only I could deliver.

The pleasure overcame her. She whimpered and then fell silent as a tidal wave of orgasms burst. Sooyoung gushed, trembling as wave upon wave washed over her, My mouth still hungrily at work. Finally, Sooyoung just fell quiet, moaning slightly and breathing raggedly, her pussy finally satiated and soaked. I looked up, staring directly at her.

“Feel better ma’am?” I grinned wolfishly. Sooyoung blinked. She could only mumble incomprehensibly in reply. She felt limp, helpless.

And yet she felt this strange emptiness. A need inside her to be filled and satisfied in a whole new way. The kind only a thick man, the biggest she had seen, could satisfy. It was weird being watched by her husband too. In a strange way, she was more concerned that Hyoseob saw her behave so crudely and obscenely. And in a different, yet much more tangible way, Hyoseob was seeing this horrendous, loathsome act and doing nothing. Maybe Hyoseob could see she was enjoying it so much that he’d let this wicked transgression slip without a hitch.

“Here, let me set up the camera,” Sooyoung said, still slightly out of breath. She was determined to finish me off so she could have Hyoseob rail her like the good husband he was. For once she wanted Hyoseob to take her rough, and remind her who she belonged to.

Glancing over at Hyoseob, who stood with his eyes and crotch bulging. he seemed to be more than ready for the same prospect. It was obvious he enjoyed watching his own wife cum on the behest of another man, even if it was due to a shithead like me. In fact, his proper wife becoming a sexual object, made it so much more incredible and surreal.

Sooyoung took her phone and propped it up on the dinner table and activated it to record. As she turned, she saw me had thrown my shorts aside, my erection standing proud. Sooyoung gave a sidelong glance at Hyoseob, who stood there transfixed and just watching the sin unfold. She felt guilty for making him endure such a situation; however, this was his own doing. It was his fantasy, and she’d be a good wife and indulge him. She loved him too much to deny him one of his darkest fetishes.

Sooyoung licked her hand, placing it around my stiff, rigid cock and started stroking slowly. I felt huge in her palm. She massaged and fondled it as best she could, her small fingers trying to encompass me completely, but she was still inexperienced, unused to handling an immense slab of cock like mine. She was almost in disbelief as it continued to pulsate and grow. Her delicate hands did their best to massage and soothe my throbbing cock.

“Get those tits out,” I demanded.

“Huh?” Sooyoung shook her head, refocusing from the massive slab of meat in her hands. She was mesmerized.

“Take it off, I said,” I reiterated. “I wanna see your tits.”

Sooyoung slowly nodded, biting her lower lip with a sly smirk. I hadn’t seen her naked breasts yet, but had seen plenty of her pussy... so really, it probably didn’t matter. Besides, Hyoseob’s gasp told her that her husband wanted it as well.

She pulled at the buttons at the front of her shirt, and took it off. Next, she slid down her black laced bra straps, pushing it down so her bare boobs were on display, right in front of my face, with her husband watching, recording and knowing it was all for him. Sooyoung pushed out her chest and stood proud in my face, saying, “You’re not getting your hands on these, they’re all Hyoseob’s.”

Taking a seat so I could be at eye level with her breasts. “But you can admire them as much as you want,” Sooyoung assured, standing topless before me.

She finally could display some of that confident pridefulness that lingered within her. She got down on her knees on the floor and resumed pumping my shaft again, her fist sliding along its full, imposing length, staring intently at my stiff cock. She could sense that I wanted to grope her breasts, but for now, I was a good boy. Maybe her breasts jiggling with each stroke made for a good enough sight.

Sooyoung kept working me, stroking me at a much slower tempo than I clearly desired. I wanted her to increase her pace, but she wouldn’t give me the satisfaction. With her spare hand, she started fondling my balls. I could handle a bit of squirming for sure.

“These are some big balls. Gonna shoot a big load for me? Wanna show me how much you can cum for your teacher?” Sooyoung said, even though she wasn’t really my teacher, but you say what you gotta say.

“Wanna take a closer look?” I said. eyeing Sooyoung’s gorgeous features with the most lustful gaze. She giggled, suspecting what I wanted. She wouldn’t do it, but why not indulge just a little bit? And so, she slowly bent forward with my cock slowly coming closer to her face.

Sooyoung peered over and caught sight of Hyoseob. I was aroused, staring at her with anticipation and eagerness. My erection, confined in my pants, was very obvious. She loved watching him get hotter. In that instant, Sooyoung felt the fantasy growing on her. She had been reluctant before, and perhaps she would be later again, but for now, her primal urge for satisfaction took over, and the delicious rush of taboo sensation pushed away her reserve. Her husband’s affirmation was all she needed to let go.

“You like that my cock in your face?” I asked, as I swiped her hair over her shoulders.

Her attention snapped back to me. “Sure, it’s the biggest one I’ve ever been this close to,” she admitted and giggled mischievously, knowing it would torture her dear husband.

“How about you give it a taste?” I suggested. She stroked it casually with one hand and leered, cupping my balls again with the other. It was right there, inches from her mouth. The temptation to do something so wicked, something so far from anything she’d sink herself to do, was unreal. How far would this go if she didn’t stop it?

I grabbed her jaw with one hand, pressing my fingers into her cheek so that her lips popped into a little pucker. “Take it,” I said.

Sooyoung pursed her lips again and obediently kissed my tip. Just a simple peck of a kiss, like with a friend.

“Alright,” she admitted, nodding, “That felt nice,” then leaned down and kissed it again.

She stuck out her tongue, swirling it around, and licked my swollen cocck. I groaned, closing my eyes as my breathing grew deeper. “Mmmmh, yummy,” she teased, staring straight into the camera, then turning to her husband winking at him, “He really does taste rather good.”

That was far from the case. It tasted vile, but she knew Hyoseob would love if she teased me.

Hyoseob, in return, shuddered in place, heart pounding, his cock swelling at the thought of seeing her act like such a slut. But for the wrong guy, a young stud taking her instead...

I looked down, Sooyoung looking right up at me as I pushed a thumb into her mouth. “Open,” I ordered, pushed her jaw open. I used a finger, pushing her tongue.

“How’s it feel?” Hyoseob asked, entranced. Sooyoung’s mind was racing. Licking my cock was disgusting, yet so wicked.

“I don’t know,” she moaned, her eyes filled with heat, her body burning. “Spongy.” She had never given a blowjob before, and though the idea seemed utterly unappetizing, the hunger within her to see my cum burst into her mouth drove her into an excitement. It was nasty, something she never wanted to do, but still the depravity of it turned her on. “Open wider,” I commanded as I poked my thumb in the side of her mouth, opening it widely so I could see down her throat.

“Owwwhhh, Can’t wait to feel my cock bump up down there.”

It wasn’t entirely unpleasant; Sooyoung was having difficulty remembering what she disliked about having a large object stuffed in her mouth.

“Play with my balls,” I commanded. “Stroke that cock.”

Sooyoung did as I said, having let go of my cock while I had toyed with her mouth. In the process, she was regaining some composure.

No way she’d let that filthy thing into her mouth! She couldn’t believe she had even let it so close, and kissed the nasty thing even! Yet, when my thick cock hit her palm and she wrapped her hand around the big meat, stroking me firmly, and heard my moan, and then felt the hot pulse of the blood against her flesh...

Sooyoung stroked me, watching my cock flex and grow in her hands. Her other hand gripped the base of my shaft while she gently tugged at my balls. The incredible size and pulsing intensity of my cock filled her entire world. She became hungry for my release, eager for me to be shooting all that cream. But to meet me halfway, not wanting to give me her mouth, she came to a compromise she knew would make both I and Hyoseob blow our minds... and loads.

She would let me cover her big tits with my cums. Sooyoung looked down, cock throbbing and veined in her grip, staring at my massive crown, watching me shift, my hips pumping in pleasure. “God, the things I’m letting you do to me...” Sooyoung muttered with her best scowl, yet the playful wink and her low chuckling said she was enjoying it more than her words indicated. She pressed the head of my cock between her ample bosoms and pressed them together with a devilish leer.

“Uughh, yeeaah,” I hissed.

Sooyoung continued to jerk me off with her squeezing tits. She increased the pace, shoving my bulbous, throbbing head repeatedly in her cleavage. Sooyoung stroked until the first splash of hot, gooey cum exploded into her neck, chin, and breasts. It felt strangely gratifying. Sooyoung let go of my sack and worked both her hands over my cock in rhythm with the spurts, milking more and more of my cum to gush down her neck and onto her tits. I finished, and her tits glistened, coated in cum. Sooyoung sat back, giving her audience a magnificent view of her sitting topless, completely covered in white goo from navel to chin. Sooyoung smiled at her dirty accomplishment, admiring the big cock she held in her hand, as the hot cum ran over her hand.

“Fuck, that was incredible, you’ve got an incredible pair,” I said.

She lowered her eyes to my half-mast organ, studying it with the fascination one had for something seen only once, not fully comprehending what she has seen, only recognizing the wonder of it. The foreskin covered the bulb, which seemed bigger in its protective covering, creating a feeling of mystery and anticipation, causing Sooyoung’s breath to quicken. She couldn’t tell where the feeling was going, but she needed her husband as soon as possible.

Sooyoung turned to Hyoseob. “Bedroom, now.” She turned to me, giving him an appreciative smile. “Thanks for the loads... now get the fuck out.”

I laughed and quickly put my clothes on, leaving the house with a cheeky two-finger salute, heading back to school or football practice or some shit.

Finally left alone with Hyoseob, Sooyoung wasted no time. She tackled her husband on the bed and attacked him with her hands and mouth. As Hyoseob enjoyed the pleasurable attack by his loving wife, his thoughts were focused solely on the desire to be inside her. he finally removed her bottoms and flipped her on her back, her dirtied-up tits strutting up towards him.

Barely saying anything except for “You are amazing”, He lined his member up to her now-ready hole, pushed it deep, and rammed away at her with long, forceful strokes. With each pump from her husband, droplets of my cum flew and dripped off Sooyoung’s body, drenching their sheets.

It took quite a few thrusts until Hyoseob ejaculated, but once he was done, Sooyoung let go of him, her whole body shaking and whispered: “God that felt amazing. You can do that more often, just... please don’t make me fuck any other guy,” she said and grabbed Hyoseob’s shirt collar, kissing her dear husband.

—

A month passed by without any incidents. Once a week, I came over just to eat her out, who in return let me fuck her tits, or she would jerk me off. She even let me fondle her breasts when I fucked her tits. I was still trying to prod her to take me in her mouth. She never relented, though came as close as one could get. She did sometimes kiss the tip a bit, which I appreciated. I’d reward her by creampying her cleavage or coating her face in warm goo. It always disgusted her, yet she relished me giving her facial after facial. She’d look at Hyoseob in the act, trying to keep that annoyed, unhappy facial expression as ropes of sperm shot her face as if to reassure him that she didn’t enjoy the disgusting act. But Hyoseob couldn’t help but notice how wet her pussy got from my facial, and how vigorously they’d make love after I left.

To make our tutoring more ‘‘tutor-like’, the three of us agreed that the following month we’d do some actual tutoring at the school. Either running track, Sooyoung helping with weight training, swimming, or whatever. Of course, if anything happened, we then knew to record it. Weirdly enough, I was happy to play along. Or maybe not that weird, considering the woman in question.

New month, new week. Sooyoung hadn’t seen me since Monday last week and we hadn’t scheduled anything until Friday, as the school pool wasn’t available until then. We also agreed to the ‘other business’ in the car after our lesson, like the first time.

However, mid-week, I texted her.

Sooyoung was just done putting running cones back into the equipment shed. Her heart beating quickly and her hands shaky, she looked at the message, which read: ‘‘I won’t wait for friday’.

“Oh god,” she murmured, thinking I was asking her to hook up right then and there at the school. Before Sooyoung could respond with anything, I sent another message: ‘‘send pics, please?’.

A sight of relief from her as she texted back ‘‘ok’ with an embarrassed smirk on her face. She already wore skin-tight clothing; this was no problem. I would love an eyeful of her black yoga pants stretched across her shapely ass, not to mention her small crop top emphasizing her curves, making sure her toned tummy was visible. She dropped a photo of her ass. She captioned: ‘‘Can’t wait until Friday. Gonna catch some swimmers 🍆💦.” She knew her emoji game was on point now.

Feeling extra daring, Sooyoung shot another picture of her ample cleavage, pressing her arms together to emphasize it. She felt so devious sending me these lewd pictures. Gezz! She hadn’t even asked Hyoseob if that was okay! She immediately felt bad so she sent both pictures, with captions to Hyoseob.

‘‘Just sent these to you-know-who’ she wrote. She knew she would be forgiven.

‘‘Voldemort?’ her husband replied.

‘‘Jerk’ she replied. Hyoseob joking around was a clear sign it was okay. ‘‘Did you like it though?

‘‘Hell yeah,’ Hyoseob replied. ‘‘Maybe have the camera ready at all times on Friday,’ he added.

A grin formed on Sooyoung’s face. ‘‘Sure thing, babe,’ she wrote back.

The bell rang, and it was time for her next class. Before heading inside, she texted me: ‘‘Hope you enjoy them.’

‘‘I’ll enjoy more when I see you naked. Friday right?’ I texted back.

‘‘On the conditions we agreed upon...’ Sooyoung wrote.

‘‘Of course, I’m not breaking any rules...’ I wrote, reassuring her, before adding, ‘‘unless you want me too’.

A third message came just after, ‘‘Just joking around’.

Sooyoung didn’t have time to dwell on it, but my words made her uneasy. She had to be extra careful on Friday.

‘‘Lol. Fridays fine,’ she quickly typed and walked to class.

The last thing she wanted was to encourage me to do something she’d would later regret. Especially because I knew a lot about the fantasy they were working with, and probably what buttons to press if presented.

With Friday not being far off, the day came fast and Sooyoung found herself swimming laps in her swimsuit as she waited for me to join her. We had the entire pool for ourselves as everyone had headed home for the weekend. She used a larger pool, creating no reason for us to get closer than necessary.

Sooyoung eventually stopped. I had finally come out of the locker room. She couldn’t help but stare as I paraded down the length of the pool towards her. Her eyes darted to my crotch, expecting a bulge. I wasn’t not been shy with my size, and she imagined now was no different. Sooyoung swam to the edge and hoisted herself out of the water.

“God, that suit looks too good on you,” I declared, my eyes practically bulging out of my head, completely captivated by Sooyoung's gorgeous body.

“So glad you noticed,” Sooyoung replied, shooting a little smile. “But today it’s all business. Pleasure can be found after class,” she smirked.

We started the lesson. And Sooyoung kept her promise to focus on learning. So what if I kept throwing a compliment here, a touch on her ass, or a rub on her shoulder? I heeded her instructions well enough to not go further than the border of inappropriate. Plus, I did my workout with clear conviction and it was impressive.

Sooyoung was impressed that I took any of her lessons at all, as I wasn’t exactly sluggish, if anyone asked, most would tell they preferred me as a fullback to their school team as I was a giant, and surprisingly nimble, blocking tackle, if the opposing team was unfortunate enough to have to carry the ball past me. But I struggled mostly to stay dedicated, which had led me to season after season on the bench. This was not a problem today.

“Looking at your tits certainly keeps me motivated,” I joked as Sooyoung complimented me on our way to the locker rooms.

“Flattery won’t get you in my pants,” she returned. She had thought nothing of my usual banter. We stood by the exit, apparently chatting a bit before going to our respective showers.

“Do you mind...”

“I mean, can I touch your tits for a bit?” I asked.

“What? You’ve touched them a lot, and will probably do it a lot more in the car. What’s up right now?” Sooyoung quizzed.

“I just wanna feel the swimsuit fabric... on those big tits,” I said, my gaze fixed on her chest. She sighed, trying to hide a blush.

“That’s still an invasion of personal space,” she replied. But the truth was she was extremely flattered. Now that she had got to know me a bit more, she knew when I was sincere. Even more now that she noticed my bulge.

“And perhaps because we’re here,” I continued “Public kinda. Or maybe it’s a student-teacher thing.”

Sooyoung looked at me, contemplating for a moment.

“Sure, why not. It’s Friday anyway,” she said, putting her hands on her waist, pushing her tits forward for me.

I eagerly seized the opportunity, and with a quick glance to either side of the room, I moved both my paws to each of her breasts. Sooyoung looked down at my hands squeezing her breasts and she felt something primal flare in her stomach as I massaged her in front of a glass wall leading towards what was usually a very public area. The way I gleefully fondled them felt too naughty, and she couldn't deny that it felt good how I knead her tits so vigorously.

“Come on, Minho, you’ve touched my breasts way more intimately before,” she chuckled, biting her lip and looking around the pool area, even as she knew we were completely alone. The lewdness of our actions triggered feelings she didn't recognize, prompting her to take the initiative.

I took this as a hint for me to move her straps aside. It was happening before she realized it, and soon her breasts were exposed to the big empty hall, her nipples erect from both my fondling and the thick air emanating from the warm pool itself. She hissed.

I'd seen and groped her tits countless times before, and now she was standing at the school pool entrance, allowing me to pull and play with her nipples. A place she worked; a place she’d get fired from if anyone ever learned what we’re doing.

“Stop. That’s enough,” Sooyoung murmured, trying to not raise her voice so as not to draw any attention, even as we were alone. I pulled the straps of her suit but then I stopped and walked toward the men's changing room, smiling at her. Sooyoung eyed my butt the whole way, making sure I took the correct turn.

Her mind buzzed and her body throbbed from the little tease she had delivered. Not much could make her turn a cheek, especially from a horny adolescent like myself, but being topless on the threshold of her workplace took a toll, even if she was the only person there.

Sooyoung quickly rushed inside the women’s changing room, ready to turn a shower on and rinse her shame off. However, she was feeling less and less ashamed the more she was with me. I was kind of a dick, but I had become a sort of friend who helped them live out a vile and potentially dangerous fantasy.

Sooyoung leaned against the tiled shower wall. There were six showers, three on each wall. She had wanted her own private shower, as showering with her students felt inappropriate, but now she was alone. Just as well, she found her mind swimming in lust and not paying attention to washing the soap away as her thoughts drifted to images of her lying on her back as I forced my cock into her body.

As much as she didn’t want to cheat on Hyoseob, it would feel so good to finally take such a big cock inside of her... She shoved those thoughts aside. Rules were there to make sure nothing like that happened. Sex was something she loved to experience with her most precious partner, Hyoseob. No way would she compromise something so special, so sacred, just for the sake of satisfaction, or pleasure.

“Eh, the men’s showers are fucked...” A voice said from the door.

Sooyoung snapped her head over her shoulder seeing me standing there awkwardly rubbing my neck, still in my swimming trunks and with a towel in my hands. She turned her head towards me, raising an eyebrow as I stood in silence.

“I think it’s that new plumber, whatever his name is,” I continued.

“So, uhm, can I, join you? I’d shower at home, but-”

My eyes trailed her body. “I thought why not join my hot teacher in here?”

“Sure thing,” she nodded. We had already seen most of each other before... though perhaps not all in one go, and certainly not glistening in warm water.

I took the spot beside her and set the temperature of the water, making it a little more steamy and warmer, though Sooyoung would probably prefer ice cold right then. I’d seen her in various states of nakedness a couple of times by now. It’s not like having me under the same showering spot, still clad in swim trunks, would really bother her all that much. Still, she remained with her back towards me. It created some distance, kind of, even if I got an eyeful of her firm ass cheeks.

“So, what did you think of today? Did you like the lessons?” Sooyoung asked, wanting to fill the silence with at least something else than her labored breath, as well as curious for an honest answer for her as my tutor.

I took a while to respond, taking all the time to let my eyes roam her well-shaped butt. Sooyoung felt that intense gaze piercing right through her and giving her a shiver she could not conceal. She peeked over her shoulder and saw that I had discarded my swimming trunks and was in the process of soaping my chest.

“Mmm, your ass is gorgeous,” I remarked as I rubbed my chest, “this was the first class I’d paid attention to since sophomore year...”

I stared openly at her as she smiled weakly.

“So, the lesson was a success?” Sooyoung said, turning ahead to ignore my lustful comments.

“Very,” I said.

She grabbed some soap and started to lather up her breasts. Sooyoung pressed her arms to the sides of her bosom.. She was already done soaping and all that, but she needed an excuse to linger. She had to pass me to get out of here, and she didn’t want to entice me further. We could do our business in the car after anyway.

“You stay over there, mister,” Sooyoung teased, shooting another glance over her shoulder, her eyes immediately locking to my semi-hard cock.

She turned her face away again, taking a deep breath where she stood. She cursed herself for giving in to my charms and allowing me to break through her mental fortitude, clouding her thoughts with lascivious thoughts about the forbidden. She shouldn’t enjoy such terrible desires. She had felt numerous times what I could do to her, my magical hands teasing her and making her beg. “No, no begging,” she thought, no matter how badly she wanted to. It would all become real if she did.

Our illicit activities out in the hall, me groping her breasts out in the open like that while showing my earnest opinion on her body, didn’t help her predicament of having me shower a mere five feet away from her. Having my hands on her back there, nearly pushing the boundaries of the rules made her uneasy. Sooyoung stepped back, backing straight into the middle of the shower.

A pained groan came out of her, as my palm landed square on her behind, cupping her big left ass cheek and holding her tight, not letting her move from the spot.

“Minho!” she shrieked.

She turned to face me, both my hands were on her soapy waist, not giving her enough room to wriggle. It was impossible to mistake the growing intensity of my eyes. Being slightly taller than her, my monstrous cock was now bumping right against her outer thigh.

“Um, Minho, wha- what’s-?” she stammered, feeling the immense hardness smack against the side of her hip.

I quickly grabbed her hand, forcing her to grab a hold of my cock. I grunted, my body trembling from pleasure. Her fingers clamped tight around it almost automatically, stroking me up and down. My erection was unlike any other she had known. It was far thicker and longer than what Hyoseob possessed.

“I was thinking we could do it in here,” I said.

“My phone-” Sooyoung started, but I shush her.

“I have once a month unrecorded,” I reminded her. They were the rules that were in place when she first agreed to do all this me.

I turned slightly aside so I could move my right hand fully onto her naked ass, my left onto her breasts, causing her to gasp jaggedly. She was so sensitive in her breasts, which I had come to learn. And now she was fully naked in front of me for the first time, my hands on her fully naked body for the first time too.

“Sooyoung?” I breathed her name, making her shiver.

She slowly nodded. No words, but permission to continue.

Sooyoung gasped as she enjoy my groped on her ass and breasts, her most vulnerable part on display and being violated. She wasn’t resisting either. A soft groan slipped through her lips as I started applying delicate pressure against her soft features. Her mind was still holding her back, as my hands roamed over her slippery, soapy-covered ass cheeks. It felt great, she was surprised to admit; not just the obvious physical sensation, but also the freedom and sheer shamelessness in knowing she had my full focus, completely uninterested in the video-recording aspect of this, just wanting to have a more casual session. Sooyoung relished how dirty she was being right here at work, where her phone should have been recording, but wasn’t.

It was strange how a few quick, strong of rubs into her fleshy posterior caused an instant reaction in her mind. I skillfully continued to caress and apply pressure to her curvy body. When I decided I was done kneading and molding the supple flesh beneath my palms, my hands crawled and glided toward her waist. I briefly groped at the jut of her hips before, slowly, my fingers moved to her lower back. At first, Sooyoung thought I’d grope and slap her rear, as many a horny teen would have done but instead, I pushed her to turn around.

“We can’t,” Sooyoung said, suspicious of my intentions, despite the rules.

“I’m just gonna eat you out,” I replied, pressing a little harder.

Sooyoung smiled and allowed herself to be spun around and bent towards the shower wall. Her ample behind stuck out towards me, on display for my eyes, and my touch. Sooyoung braced her hands on the tile wall, opening her legs for me, and pushed her ass out, hoping I would taste her soon, hoping I would not keep her waiting any further.

I did not immediately descend. Instead, my hands wrapped around her chest, stroking at her sides before cupping both her tits, squeezing and kneading her voluminous chest. I am quick learner, my movements dexterous and adaptive to what she enjoyed.

Sooyoung felt my big firm cock lodge against the outside of her butt cheek, pulsing and throbbing in anticipation. She wanted me to get down there as soon as possible so she could get some release. She felt as if she was losing control soon if she didn’t. But my hands on her body, kneading and demanding her skin to yield to my fingers, felt so good too. Finally, she could feel me release my grip and start to descend behind her.

Sooyoung groaned as my hot breath glided past the arch of her ass, gasping with anticipation. My lips glided past her cheeks, sliding through to her netherlips. She leaned forward and widened her legs even further, giving me all the space I could want, all the access I could desire. My tongue was at home, licking the outer of her pussy lips and sometimes dipping in between, testing the entrance, poking at her wet folds.

Sooyoung realized I was growing bolder as my lips slowly climbed the distance to the crack of her ass. With my nose bumping along, I rubbed the top of her mound, just below her cute little butt hole. My hands moved downward from her busty torso to her thick thighs and squeezed them tightly. I began eating her sweet wetness even more zealously than I had been before and Sooyoung soon felt a tingle start to grow in her tummy and travel outward. The sensation started to swell and was on the brink of erupting all through her, with the lewdness of it all, the forbidden nature of it all adding to the tension inside.

I moaned against her pussy lips. It must feel so incredibly wrong being intimate with a teen, being a teacher to have something like that happen with a student, her being married and still having some punk lavish her folds. Her ass cheeks quivered as my tongue found a way inside her dripping pussy.

She was pushing back on my face, trying to get my tongue in deeper, feeling herself about to explode. Sooyoung began bucking her hips against my tongue as the familiar coiling built up in her pussy, signaling that her release was not far away. She pushed her head back and wailed in ecstasy, grinding and humping wildly, forgetting about where we are. Our moans were muffled by the steamy showers, yet our echoed against the walls of the otherwise silent hall. She was sure if anyone did return to the school, they would hear what we were doing.

Her chest was heaving, the wet lapping sounds between her legs almost drowning out any inhibition, as my tongue wormed its way inside.

“Minho…” Sooyoung grunted between strokes, “I need... oh fuck, I need it.”

“Need what?” I paused.

She could imagine a cheeky grin on my face. Sooyoung shook her head as best as she could and groaned. “God... please.”

“I’ll continue if you tell me. What do you need?”

Sooyoung’s senses were overflowing. My tongue lolling across her sensitive cunt felt absolutely amazing, and I had a habit of bringing her to the edge, only to slow down, pause, and force her to beg, which always ended with her exploding harder than anything she could remember before.

“Tell me, Sooyoung,” I commanded.

“Uhhgh, fuck. Keep going,” Sooyoung mumbled, groaning. “Please let me cum, I need it!” she begged.

And with those words, I dug back into her, this time, the force of my tongue driving in more aggressively, my entire mouth locked over her pussy and my hands digging into her big cheeks. Her body instantly tensed. Her orgasm was building until the very moment she could not contain it. Sooyoung felt my tongue batter away at the folds of her wet center, and soon it was over for her, I had her fully submitting, having all the control over her as she succumbed to the overwhelming urge for sexual satisfaction.

“Oh Godd!”

Her mouth dropped open. She sucked in air and froze as the explosive feelings rushed through her. Every nerve ending ignited, and her pussy trembled. It exploded into convulsing tremors.

“Cumming! Oh, I, I’m- Fuck, yes, make me cum!” she yielded.

She growled, clenching and shaking through her climax as I lapped hungrily and feverishly, feasting on her squirting honey pot. Her vision went white. She continued riding me, groaning my name repeatedly, until she felt her head begin to spin from hyperventilation. It was a wonderful sensation as I kept attacking her hole throughout the final aftershocks, slowing down my assault but making sure I tasted her, slowly massaging her softening wet cunt as I continued to make out with it. Sooyoung never really got used to the feel of my tongue rolling, the tip touching her sensitive parts, but it was over too fast.

Her knees became weak and she wanted to fall to the shower ground, yet I held her in position, not done with her yet. Before her pussy was able to recover, Sooyoung gasped when I slid my tongue to her ass. She groaned, twisting her ass-cheeks to one side, trying to get away.

“Please, not that, it’s so filthy,” she groaned, as I press my tongue against her puckered hole, only teasing the orifice for a second. “Fuck,” she hissed, my tongue felt so weird against her asshole... weird in good way. It was repulsive, yet something she found herself to strangely enjoy.

“Nnh... Ah,” she groaned and allowed herself to experience this new form of intimacy. For someone so crude and ill-behaved, I was certainly gentle in my approach as my hands supported her and guided her body to give me access to all her sweet spots. I slowly shifted and held her against the wet wall. “Minho!” she exclaimed and breathed deeply before pushing out my name in a heated whisper.

I gave her clit a long teasing stroke with my thumb, making her shiver and gasp before I once again buried my face in her crotch. She pressed herself hard against the wall, arched her back as she tried to somehow make the sensations more intense. My thumb never left her clit, massaging the small spot ever so slightly, and my tongue worked ever so gently inside her, alternating her ass and her sweet labia, savoring the sweet nectar of my hot teacher’s pussy. I was slow at first but soon I began moving my tongue faster, finding myself lost in the excitement of being so intimate with her. My hands gripped her, pulled and fondled. I was groping her all over with wild abandon, as the steam fogged the walls. Sooyoung kept thrusting against my tongue as my thick organ roamed around her puffy lips.

I stood behind her and pressed my cock between the cleft of her ass-cheeks.

“My turn,” I muttered.

My voice was desperate and full of longing as I started to voraciously thrust my cock between her ass. My hand clenched around Sooyoung’s waist. With the water and soap, her ass became perfectly smooth, just right to drive my raging cock into her. Sooyoung could feel my big balls as I smack against her mound, my large size is an indication of what would soon follow.

“Unhh... Fuck!” She panted and I growled in delight, clearly excited about finally having my teacher ass wrapped around my cock.

“The rules,” she muttered, as her whole body jolted while I fucked her buns, “the ah- rules. Stop. Please. I-”

“It’s... okay,” I groaned. “It’s just like with your tits,” I breathed.

Sooyoung closed her eyes, breathing through her mouth, as I worked faster and harder. In her clouded brain, it sort of made sense.

I just having a titty fuck. But with her ass cheeks.

“Ohh, his feels fucking amazing,” I grunted.

“So good…” Sooyoung murmured softly, enjoying the feeling of my cock between her ass cheeks.

It was so dirty, yet well within our rules. She was jerking me off, just with her ass cheeks instead of her hands or breasts. And from behind, no less, a position she’d never subject herself to with Hyoseob. A forbidden aspect. And feeling the contours and details of my cock rub along her felt agonizingly good too. Like having something she desired just outside of reach, but getting a taste.

“Arch your back, tilt your ass up,” I demanded.

She did without question. The angle was immediately better, as she heard my grunts grow louder and deeper. Sooyoung could not help her own moans escaping through her lips as her tits were pushed against the wet tile wall, completely at the mercy. She could hear my powerful breaths against her ear as I ravaged her big breasts with my hands and her firm buttocks with my cock. Her breath was shallow and her heartbeat was erratic as her mind reeled and raced.

I was pounding her ass at an awkward angle, and suddenly on a long outstroke, my cock disappeared down between her thighs instead of between her cheeks. My cock slid across her wet opening and out under her.

“Arghh” I groaned, but instead of pulling back, I essentially started slowly fucking her thighs instead, my cock-head ramming across Sooyoung’s wet pussy lips before jutting out in front with every thrust.

“No, that’s-!” she yelped. “That’s too close,” she protested, but she couldn’t deny she got more out of it this way. My cock felt too unreal against her wetness. Instead of uttering further protest, Sooyoung lowered her head and closed her eyes, feeling my cock glide across her sensitive parts. As long as I didn’t break any rules, this couldn’t be so bad, could it? Just me jacking off between her thighs.

“Fuck,” I muttered, pounding Sooyoung’s thighs as she let me use her big tits with my hands as I slowly pushed back and forth across her slit. “This view is amazing,” I admired, staring down where my cock disappeared below her, seeing her ass ripple with each thrust.

“I- you gotta be careful, baby,” Sooyoung breathed, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the pressure I put on her front entrance, brushing her pussy lips with every thrust. “Too close, baby, watch- oh my goodness, you’re big,” she warned.

Her hips were shaking violently with need as I continued humping between her thick thighs and squeezing her hefty chest. She felt my length hit her lower lips again and shuddered with pleasure.

“Your- cock feels- too good,” she whimpered as I thrusted back and forth. Would she be able to have an orgasm like this? She shivered with anticipation.

It was not long before I reached over with my left hand to support myself on the wall, while my right hand moved down below to guide my cock on her opening. At the touch of my swollen head directly between her pussy lips, Sooyoung gasped.

“Minho,” she pleaded.

However, calling my name wouldn’t stop me. Not that she truly wanted to. Perhaps her hesitation was genuine and she did not want me to stop. I pushed upwards as the head of my cock sank inside her. She wanted to cry out and plead, ask me to pull out, not wanting to break her marriage vows, yet the feeling was simply too amazing. Instead of words of protest, she groaned in agony, as the rest of my dick eased further into her tight entrance, my cock splitting her wet swollen pussy lips apart. Sooyoung shook her head violently, my throbbing length almost becoming all-consuming.

“Minho, please,” she whispered.

Sooyoung wasn’t sure what she pleaded for. She kept saying my name, pleading and moaning as I continued sliding my cock inside her, burrowing further with each thrust. Her soft folds were splitting in half from the sheer girth, her hole being forced to take my dick in. It was more intense than she had ever been with Hyoseob, and I was just a bit over halfway in.

Her fingers tightened on the wall and a lustful gasp escaped her parted lips.

“Careful... you’re so big,” Sooyoung said, sealing her fate.

“I’ll treat you right, make you feel good. No one has to know.” I moaned in her ear.

I started pumping harder, my member moving with purpose, plowing past more and more my length between her lips.

“That’s- so fucking big, Minho,” Sooyoung moaned, getting lost in the passion, slowly pushing her hips against my cock, my thick head burrowing into her soft canal. “Ffffuuck, fuck me. Fuck meee.”

“Shh, it’s alright,” I whispered reassuringly as I slammed my meat home, eventually fully buried myself into my sexy, busty teacher. Her moist tunnel opened up, inviting me deeper into her. I groaned, loving how her warmth spread against my length and encircled my hard, throbbing cock.

Sooyoung screamed from pure bliss as her first orgasm ripped through her, her cries bouncing against the shower wall. Her breath escaped in sharp little gasps, and her stomach convulsed each time her entire frame jolted from my thrusts.

“Yes! Yes! Fucking... Ma-make me cum!” she cried out, clawing at the slick tiled wall as I took advantage and quickly established a rapid, pulsating rhythm. My grunts and pants were filled with need, desperation for relief.

“Yes, that’s- ah... that’s the spot... that’s it,” Sooyoung panted, bracing herself against the wall, my pace now picking up with ease as her wet walls lubricated the large intruder. She leaned against the tile with her head bent and her hands on the wall, gasping as she accepted all of me with every pump, hitting all her right spots.

“Come on, you fucking slut,” I groaned, my hands holding her waist as I was dominating Sooyoung’s insides with my cock. I fucked her relentlessly.

The noise of flesh hitting together was unbearable, the echo of Sooyoung’s big, firm, juicy ass taking my powerful poundings. I pummeled her for minutes, not stopping, nor I slower, and all of my grunting, panting, and hissing were accompanied by wet, sloppy sounds from between her legs.

Sooyoung was dizzy with bliss, barely standing, her head spinning from the intensity of it all. The way I expertly manipulated my erection inside her was criminal, but right then she didn’t care, she was only focused on my veiny member pistoning her soft cunt, making her quiver.

“You love my cock in your tight, dripping, little married pussy, don’t you, slut?” I grunted in her ear.

“Fuckk, that’s- soo good, ungghh my god, you’re so big…” Sooyoung groaned, shuddering in absolute satisfaction. She reached back with a free hand to my rear. Her nails dug into my ass-cheeks as I did not cease hammering her from behind, grunting my agreement to her words.

I pulled out of her, leaving an empty feeling within her. Luckily it was short-lived as I spun her around, then without much fanfare I pushed her against the shower wall, hiked her legs around my waist, and lined up my cock head against her soaking hole once more.

She hissed as I pressed my meat against her, the mushroom head slowly pushing at the entrance of her cunt. Sooyoung squinted her eyes closed and clamped her teeth hard into her lips as I parted her delicate pussy lips with my cock.

I kept a slow and torturous pace as I finally made it inside her. Her beautiful, slutty mouth opened but nothing came out of her lips but soft, choppy breaths as my cock speared deep, the big mushroom head finally battering her womb. I felt extra big in this position, as she was folded between the wall and me with nowhere to go but deep, deeper. She cried out as a small orgasm rippled through her, shaking and arching her spine.

“You love it deep like this, don’t you? Huh, slut? You love my cock stretching you,” I growled in her ear.

“Ohh god- Yes!” Sooyoung answered in a loud whisper. “It feels sooo good.”

I pounded her mercilessly, my cock sawing her in half, her tits pressing firmly against my chest.

“Fuckk… you’re so huge- Minho,” Sooyoung gasped. Her legs wrapped tighter around my waist, squeezing against my waist. “How can you be- this big? this- nghh- fuck!”

“Bigger than- ah- your husband?” I asked.

I thrusts harder and faster, feeling a desperate need to release.

“Ungh! Fuck, yes! Yes!” She admitted.

“Reaching deeper than you’re used to?!”

“Fuck- yes! ahh” Sooyoung squealed.

“Beg for it, slut.” I breathed huskily as I wrapped my arms around her back and pressed her body even closer, pushing myself balls deep.

“F-fuck me, Minho! Ruin me. Make me- cum,” she begged, clutching my back as she clung for dear life.

Just as the word escaped her lips, my lips were on hers. Sooyoung’s mind froze in a confused whirl. Her eyes went wide, yet she found herself kissing me back. Her nails dug into my back, dragging across, and I flinched at the sensation, but my lips did not part from hers.

I groaned as I pumped her harder, my hands tightly squeezing at her supple ass.

“So good- you’re so good at this. Oh god, I’ve never done it like this...” she kept rambling with her soft voice, panting, but still seemingly holding out, her tight walls compressing around my thick, cock. She looked so adorable, trying so hard. I wanted nothing more than to see her resolve break and have her surrender completely.

“Any regrets?” I taunted.

“Nnhgh,” she grunted, “no, baby. You feel so f-fucking gooo-hd-d-ah, Minho.”

“You gonna let me fuck you again after today?” I asked.

“Why do- nghh- why do you talk so dirty to me, Minho? Why?”

“Your husband hasn’t fucked you like this, has he?” I teased.

“Fuck. No. Not like- mnghh,” Sooyoung cried.

“Because he’s not enough to keep this needy pussy satisfied?”

“Just- fuck- just make- anhh- make me cum, baby,” Sooyoung whimpered.

 “You fucking hot little slut, take it. You’re a dirty, cheating whore, aren’t you? Your pussy has been craving my cock since day one hah"

I let her down, spinning her towards the wall again. I needed to cum, but couldn’t hold her up anymore. She willingly pressed her tits and face into the wall and arched her back as she offered herself once more.

Sooyoung lifted a leg, opening herself for me as my hands came back to her ass, gripping at her waist, digging my fingers into her flesh. A second later, my cock head was knocking at her soft, velvet chamber again.

“Baby- baby… oh god,” she was whimpering as her pussy dripped wetness, my hands playing with her big fat ass, fondling and kneading it. The sweet music of her lust echoed through the hall, her hands scraping on the wall, my breath ragged and strained as I slammed myself into her.

“Say it!” I demanded. “You’ll let me fuck you again after today!?”

I was on the verge myself, slamming her hard, my cock spearing her well-fucked pussy mercilessly. Her whimpers had turned into pitiful wails of sexual depravity, unable to form words in her mouth.

“Baby… honey,” she whispered with a wince of painful bliss, “God- I’m gonna- Ahh, oh my- please-”

“Fuckkk, cum on my cock.” I growl.

My relentless thrusts hammered her sensitive canal. I plunged deeper as she leaned against the wall, thrusting back at me. I groaned, feeling my own orgasm roar to the forefront, preparing itself. I gave her one last thrust.

Sooyoung suddenly went silent, I felt my cock swell inside her before my tip detonated, unleashing a torrent of sperm directly into her pussy. It was a monstrous eruption, spraying deep, hard jets of thick, milky, white cum, filling up Sooyoung, bathing her insides.

She went limp, yet the intense and abrupt waves of pleasure overwhelmed her, making her clench hard around my girth, milking me and contracting as she came right along with me in vigorous passion.

I kept myself deep inside her, depositing more and more cum inside her womb. I clutched her breasts for leverage and groaned as the last parts of my cum spilled into her married pussy. I took deep breaths as my load began to leak past her stretched and plugged entrance.

“Fuu- uck,” she exclaimed as a spurt of cum streamed out from her.

Her body shook against mine and she lifted her leg, groaning, feeling herself full of cum. I slowly began to pull my dick out, until it finally exited her well fucked pussy with a soft ‘‘poppp’.

More seed streamed out, my sperm pouring down her legs, white fluids gathering below her on the tiled ground. She fell to her knees, spent, not able to remain standing any longer, having her legs give way.

“I can’t- believe we just did that,” Sooyoung said in despair.

She swore she wouldn’t, yet, she succumbed to her dark desires. She had broken the most important rule, and happily so... but now it didn’t feel happy at all. And she had let me have her in such a slutty way too, having let go of the intimacy of sex for the sake of my cock filling her up. It was shameless, animalistic- and utterly mind-blowing. Sooyoung had not even felt such mind-numbing, toe-curling pleasure like that before, ever. And with me not having recorded this time... she knew it was just for her. Sooyoung shuddered as my cum dribbled down her shaking legs.

I helped her off the floor. The hot spray washed over her head, slicking her hair. Her thighs and buttocks were stained with my semen, making her flinch and curse my name.

“Why’d you break the rules?” she said in a shaky voice. I held my hands up defensively.

“Hey, you wanted it just as much as I do” I retorted.

To Sooyoung’s horror, she knew I was right. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you... that we...”

“Should do it again,” I concluded. Sooyoung’s eyes flashed up to meet mine. “Hey, listen. I’m pretty sure Hyoseob wouldn’t mind.”

“But I mind!” Sooyoung replied, somewhat angrily. “It doesn’t matter whether he’d approve or not, I’m a married woman, and proudly so. You shouldn’t have gotten inside me.”

“Okay, okay,” I relented.

“Sex is supposed to be special and... intimate, not just some- fuck,” she went on. “I hate that you could make me throw all that away. Damn you, Minho!”

“Come on, Sooyoung,” I responded. “You’re talking about making love. All we did was have some fun. Two consenting adults having their carnal needs satisfied.”

“You say it as if it were so easy,” she spat.

“It is easy,” I said. “C’mon, you love Hyoseob, but you can’t deny you enjoyed getting fucked like that. Nothing’s wrong with enjoying yourself a bit. Hyoseob will go nuts once you tell him about this!”

“Tell him? I can’t possibly tell him about this!” Sooyoung argued.

“Of course you can,” I said. I just wanted it to continue, and for that to happen, it was in my best interest to help get Sooyoung over her reservations. “You have to. Just tell him how horny you were, that I caught you masturbating in the shower... and that it was too good to resist.”

“I... I guess you’re right,” Sooyoung sighed. It made sense. The rules were there to keep them honest, so honesty was the only course of action.

“No problem,” I said reassuringly. “Need any help cleaning off na’am? I think you need it,” I teased.

“God, why do you keep doing that?” Sooyoung scolded, giving my chest a playful slap.

But she did have to admit she felt better after our little talk. Who knew I would be a consoling type?

“Would you want me to help?” I asked. “…or is that against the rules?”

—

I ended up eating her out once more before we finished the shower, and soon we found ourselves in her car.

“How you feeling?” I asked earnestly.

“I’m better now,” Sooyoung replied, about to turn the engine on.

“Glad I could help, If you’re ever in the mood again. you know where to find me.” I said.

Sooyoung nodded. She was slightly nervous that if she had my company more, her resolve would crack and break again. She just couldn’t imagine sleeping with a guy like me again, her student. It was a mistake... yet she was still hesitating to start the engine. And I noticed.

“Unless you want it right now?” I suggested, leaning close. I was good, so good, it made her tingle everywhere.

“Minho, not here. Please,” Sooyoung plead.

I pulled up my hand towards her thighs, caressing it. “Lean your seat back, I’ll take care of you.”

Her resolve crumbled, once again, as she quietly allowed me to rub her thighs, my hand soon reaching under the hem. Soon enough I had my fingers inside her, pumping her loose with my finger. Sooyoung’s legs quivered, the nervous excitement building inside her. We could be caught at any moment, but it was impossible to resist. my practiced touches. Especially now that she knew how good it could be. Sooyoung even lifted her ass up to let me slide her tight yoga pants down and off her legs.

Soon she heard the familiar rustle of a zipper, followed by a noticeable change in pressure in the confined space. My hardening member popped free from its tight prison. I was hard, She reached down and pulled a lever allowing her to push her seat and arch the back down, giving me space enough to climb on top of her and line her pussy up with my swollen head. She spread her legs invitingly, I pushed inside, kissing her mouth to muffle the noise.

“No one will know,” I reassured her as my length eased further and further in. She trembled in delight when the entirety was within. She loved every inch of it, as my cock caressed her cervix with each slow thrust. “Fuck- Sooyoung,” I muttered.

She laid back against the cool leather as I thrust with such vigor. Sooyoung hated her body betraying her. She couldn’t think straight when my dick was filling her, hitting all of her spots. She could feel the pressure build rapidly inside her as I grunted and leaned forward, panting. My breath brushed her face as she gripped my rear in desperation and urged me as to fucking her harder, to satisfy her need.

We were right in the school’s parking lot, Sooyoung spreading and wrapping her legs, letting me defile her marriage pussy yet again... and she was so close to climax already.

“God- I really hope Hyoseob is okay with this,” Sooyoung whimpered. “Cause I’m dying for more of this.”

“Trust me,” I panted, “I- Oh, fuck- He’ll be fine. He’s probably at home, touching himself, thinking about this.”

‘‘That shouldn’t be making me so damn wet,’ Sooyoung thought to herself, yet the image of Hyoseob jacking off over what had happened with me, of him agreeing that his wife student’s should defile and breed his beautiful wife, only pushed her closer and closer to her climax.

“Oh god,” Sooyoung moaned.

“And if he isn’t okay with this, are you gonna let me fuck you again?” I asked.

“Unghh,” she growled, nodding.

“Say it,” I taunted, as my cock plowed her cunt deeper.

“Mnghh,” Sooyoung let out in reply, not even trying to stifle her lustful moans anymore. “Yes- god, yess. Fuck me whenever you want! Just keep- Fuckk!”

Her hands are buried in my hair, pulling me closer as her moans were getting louder. Her orgasm that had been brewing exploded, rushing through her. Sooyoung bit her lip, trying to contain herself as I picked up my pace, trying to catch my own release. My thrusting and pounding didn’t stop, however, my cock was beginning to throb, and her pussy walls quivered.

“Cum- inside me,” she pleaded, “I need it. Please-”

She tried to press her hips harder against me, feeling my length expanding, thickening, pulsing wildly within her as my thrusting became almost desperate.

“Please- Minho, inside. I want you to- knock me up” Sooyoung pleaded.

She felt a hot gush inside her, the warmth spreading around her pussy. Sooyoung shuddered with anticipation. I had pumped another massive load deep within her, my length completely hilting, delivering the ropes deep inside. The pleasure rippled across her body, her womb quivering around my large appendage.

When everything is done.

“Knock you up?” I asked.

“Just dirty talk... I’m on the pill, but it’s something Hyoseob likes me saying,” Sooyoung said, surrendering yet another aspect. “Just like when- you ask me to continue even if Hyoseob says no. Heat of the moment.” She added.

Sooyoung said that, though deep in her heart she wondered how much of the latter was true. Was it just a talk? Would she be able to resist Minho if Hyoseob said no? Sooyoung was not sure she wanted to find out. She’d had the best sex of her life with Minho and she knew she would have been crushed if Hyoseob said no to sharing her.

It was wrong, but she knew she wanted more. She just hoped she’d be strong enough if Hyoseob decided to pull the plug. She had a week to find out before seeing Minho again.

[starrywilliams]

guilty as sin? | abby anderson

“these fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath, taking all of me, we’ve already done it in my head”

warnings: masturbation, slight masochism, ruined orgasm, angst, perv!abby (a little), internalized homophobia (discussed in more detail below)

notes: no surprise my favourite ttpd song is the gayest one on the album, but guilty as sin? screams lesbian guilt i fear!!!! i’ve been writing this for over a month so i hope u guys like it 😭

cw: discussion of lesbian guilt & comphet - these are somewhat based on my own experiences with my sexuality and i absolutely!!! do not think a man can ‘cure’ a lesbian or anything similar to that. nor do i believe anyone should ever feel guilty for being gay. realising i’m a lesbian has been extremely freeing & dykes r the best x

wc: 1.8k

likes, comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

the door slammed harshly behind abby as she stormed into her room. she pulled her jacket off desperately; her skin hot under its tight vice. she’d been in the gym, trying to work out her endless frustration of late, when you’d walked in.

you’d only said “hi" and smiled politely at her before setting your things down. but she felt her stomach churn, a black hole opening inside her. abby stood up, pulling the weights off the barbell and onto their rack. she grunted softly, glancing at you from the corner of her eye.

you’d started stretching, currently bent over as you touched your toes. her eyes drifted for an infinitesimal moment, locking onto the swell of your-. she looked away - wrongwrongwrong.

but then she looked back, her stare feasting on your body. she wondered whether you were doing this on purpose, trying to tempt her from across the room. she wondered if you knew her dirty little secret, abby picturing a smirk on your face as you mocked her for such indecent thoughts.

she didn’t want to feel this way. she didn’t want to feel the poison ivy swarming around her chest, getting tighter, tighter. the rash spread inside her; this invisible whip of lust lashing against her skin whenever your face appeared in her mind. well, had it been just your face maybe she wouldn’t feel like some depraved sinner.

now it wasn’t like abby believed in god, in a world where death and destruction infect every crevice you’d have to be mad to believe that any ‘god’ wanted its followers to suffer so greatly. but something inside her screamed every time she had these thoughts. these impure, twisted thoughts about you.

she didn’t know what made her feel like this. what made her resent you for simply existing; and what made her resent herself.

she recalled her teenage years, when manny had subtly suggested that owen liked her - so she was supposed to like him back, right? and she tried! she loved him even - but there was always that something, that feeling in her gut that told her that something was wrong, something about him that just would never sit right with her.

but all the other girls wanted a boyfriend too, and the jealousy was nice at first - she’d thought. after all, mel was the star student, a doctor in the making, her dad’s favourite; and nora was this freshly trained medical officer, and abby was- abby was just abby.

her dad began noticing her more too - previously too preoccupied with his firefly duties and his favourite student. now his little girl was slipping away from him, he finally began paying her the amount of attention she’d craved for so long.

before, their conversations had often drifted into talk of mel and her new achievements, or his hopes of a vaccine, or some animal he was tracking. never anything about his daughter’s life.

having a boyfriend made her interesting, it gave the other girls something to envy. which was a nice reversal, for a while. then her dad died, and she had become this object of pity. owen helped a bit, she supposed. he tried to distract her and keep her focused on their new role as soldiers, but she barely cared about him anymore. all she wanted was revenge, and with revenge, came you.

you were one of the gyms trainers, passionate about helping the members of the wlf stay fit and healthy! you’d helped her start lifting weights, squealed as she reached every milestone, and had remarked jokingly about just how much you loved her new physique.

it was innocent at first, the most being her brain going a little fuzzy when you’d bit your lip while spotting her; a slight blush when you’d hugged her a little too tight. then, once she and owen were finally broken up, these new pictures began hanging themselves on the walls of her mind. still, innocent, just slightly tainted with desire - the true nature of them still an avoidable matter for her back then.

when she could ignore the truth in her recent behaviour, abby loved spending time with you. after all, you were just really good friends! anyway, she’d had a boyfriend before so everyone knew she was normal, and absolutely not different, and she would never ever have to feel like an outsider.

yet it took a mere three months before she gave up on this foolish lie. she liked you, and as long as nobody ever found out, it wouldn’t matter.

but as her mind grew dark and twisted - joel a constant topic in her head as she obsessed over finally getting to enact revenge - her thoughts got worse in turn. she wanted you - filthily and desperately.

every gym session ended with another cold shower, a desperate plea for her body to stop and let her focus on the task at hand; a hopeless attempt to bury this ache into the ground; an endless endeavour to escape these urges for just one second.

but then she came back changed, every hair on her body endlessly erected with guilt. the way she’d killed him so mercilessly, the way it had done nothing to ease the pain, and the way you had tormented her mind ceaselessly throughout the entire trip.

maybe, had she never met you, she could’ve just killed him and been satisfied. maybe had you never offered to train her personally, she could’ve just stayed comfortable in that stuffy closet. maybe if she found the right man she’d stop feeling this way.

abby deemed such ideas unfathomable now.

owen made her feel nothing. being with him was like an eternal thursday, an endless wait for the week’s end and its pleasure to turn up at her door. every day she’d wait for some spark to arrive, the routine only becoming more and more tedious by the minute. but he helped her get people’s attention, which was enough when she was just abby.

but then she was abby anderson, top scar killer and isaac’s favourite. she got attention on her own, she was praised for her own accomplishments: people worshipped the fucking ground she walked on. but they didn’t know who she really was.

they didn’t know she liked girls the way she was supposed to like boys. she’d seen it in enough of those wlf movie nights - cruel jokes about anyone who even thought about being different. she’d heard the way people gossiped, “did you hear that they’re moving lesbians into the family unit? what a joke.”

they said it like it was something dirty, something egregious, something that she had to hate about herself. so she did.

but as long as she kept it secret, kept it locked away in her mind, maybe she’d be okay. after all, only your actions talk: it was the age old question really, if a tree falls in a forest and no one else hears it, does it make a sound?

abby fell back against her bed sheets, calloused hands pushing her cargos down to her ankles as she replayed the sight of you in her mind. bent over - she felt like you were trying to tempt her on purpose.

she felt like a heathen; staring, fantasizing, worshipping. her mind was bursting with the idea of every possible position she could put you in; head a chorus of every little noise she wanted to hear you make; eyes screwed shut as depravity filled her every sense.

she shoved her bralette up her chest roughly, fingertips dragging over her nipples with little mercy. she pinched them, the peach skin stinging underneath her touch.

she wanted it to hurt; wanted it to feel like some sort of punishment for her thoughts. but as her hips bucked into the air, a long whine dragging from her clenched jaw, she realised it needed to hurt more.

she imagined you, finding her like this. disgust burnt into your features - what the fuck was she doing? repeating your name like some subverted prayer, fingers harshly scratching along her stomach as she tried to make the pleasure feel more like pain, trying to induce some connection between the two.

if it hurt enough, would she stop? force herself to forget? could she torture this part of herself until it surrendered?

her hand slipped over the top of her boxers, a finger running tentatively over her clit through the now darkened fabric. she bit down on her lip, groaning against it as she pushed down harder and harder, attempting to break through the skin.

another finger pressed down, beginning to draw circles down on the throbbing bud. she jolted against her own touch, your head between her legs burning into her mind. your hands, trailing along her flesh - groping at her with little tenderness; tongue, swiping at her pussy with no intent of fulfillment: she wanted you to make her weep, smoke out her lungs with shame, deny her from gratification until all she could feel was regret.

she pulled away, only to cover her fingertips with her spit - diving under her boxers to continue with her corruption. abby let out a strangled sigh, hips grinding against her fingers as they toyed with her clit.

she moved a hand to her hair, knuckles stretching against her scalp as she began to pull her braid. she grunted, yanking even harder. she whispered your name: pained, hopeless.

she sped up her assault against her pussy, feeling that pit in the bottom of her stomach begin to grow. “pleasepleaseplease” her voice cracked as she begged, unsure what she was pleading for.

she wanted to stop, but she needed to try and make this feeling go away. she knew it would come back, it always did - but even five minutes free from your torment on her mind might save her.

her fingers kept going, drawing desperate circles against her weeping pussy relentlessly. the void was growing, almost consuming her entirely at this point. she thought of you laughing at her current state: a crying mess, pussy wet with perversion.

it was sick, really - how the idea of you hating her for this made her need even worse. you’d probably think it appalling: someone who was supposed to be your friend, now sat here burning at the thought of you.

a part of her wished that you shared this sickness. that you too let yourself be overwhelmed by the thought of sin. maybe you didn’t let the guilt swallow you whole - she hoped so.

but there was no point lingering in the what-ifs, they were far too fleeting.

her deft fingers quickened their pace, the ache all consuming. the climb began - a desperate jump towards oblivion. closer, closer. the flames scorched her bedsheets as her breathing hastened.

fuck, she hissed before reaching the apex with a scream of your name. a scream? a whisper? a thought? it didn’t make her actions any less deplorable.

her conscience grabbed pleasure by the throat as she ripped her fingers away, putting out the blaze on her hips like a cigarette crushed on the ground.

the desire imploded within the walls of her torso; scratching against her insides in the vengeance of her denial.

it was wrong; she had to stop it. yet still, the guilt poured into her lungs with no chance of resolve. she was a fool for thinking it would fix her. maybe next time it would work. maybe next time the exorcism would finally purify her.

until next time.