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cerisahh · 2 days ago

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summary — love language headcanons for the arcane characters (giving and receiving)

characters included — jinx, ekko, silco, vander, viktor

cerisa speaks — literally started writing this the night of s2 act 3 release and only now finishing it if that doesn't tell you something about how inconsistent i am idk what does. ATTENTION PEOPLE IN MY REQUESTS!! i swear to god i will do your request in the next year for sure! viktor forgive me, amen.

jinx — gift giving. jinx's most loyal companion is her imagination so it isn't hard for her to think of gifts that are personal to you that'd you'd enjoy.

we see many of the little homemade trinkets that she's made for silco throughout the years, my favourite being the ashtray he keeps on the desk in his office. so dependant on what you're into, she'll showcase her love for you in the form of a trinket.

oh, so you like to read? she sees you dog-earing a page of your book whilst you two are in her hangout and drops her current project to fashion you a bookmark. you only notice that her tinkering has stopped when the bookmark has been dropped on your lap and she's made a blasé comment about you destroying your book for too long so she just had to make you this so you'd stop.

hiding behind a mask of indifference when giving out her gifts is kind of her thing, but she's anxious to no end to see if you like it. her mind runs a mile a minute; 'don't they like it? do the colours not match? they hate it they hate it theyhateittheyhateittheyhateme-'

until you're holding it carefully between your fingers and your mouth is making that 'o' shape it does when something unexpected has happened. when you say that it's the most thoughtful gift you've ever received she's insistent on making you a hundred more.

physical touch. stop booing me i'm right! let me explain. as we see before powder becomes jinx, she's quite normal with physical contact, we see vi hugging her, putting a hand on her shoulder, claggor helping her down to the apartment, etc.

it's after vi slaps and abandons her that she becomes uncomfortable with physical touch. silco (most of the time) lets her initiate it on her own terms.

one time he doesn't is where she's playing airplane with his shimmer device and he grabs her wrist. she lets him retain his grip for a moment but when she does move her arm away he doesn't follow her. through my own delusions i've come to the conclusion that jinx wants, maybe even craves physical comfort, but quickly feels smothered by it when it's forced on her.

despite this, with the right person i feel like she would be willing to accept physical affection from them. it would take time to establish and develop a trusting relationship with jinx but when you're there, you're there. she's also a deeply insecure person when it comes to relationships of any kind and retaining them so you'll have to slip in some words of affirmation between touches.

her favourite way to receive physical touch would for sure be you playing with her hair. running your fingers through it and scratching her scalp? congratulations, that's your new job. you mention off the cuff how you'd love to see her hair down? suddenly there's a brush in your hands and an expectant and giddy jinx sitting in front of you.

even though she trusts you, she'll still get startled and tense up if you suffocate her with too much affection. holding your arms out for a hug or patting the seat next to you so she can lean into your arms is a much better way to initiate contact with her.

a little extra headcanon, when she's doing your nails she'll use her own hands to hold your fingers still instead of a wrist rest. she says it keeps them steadier so she doesn't make any mistakes but really she craves that subtle contact.

ekko — acts of service. season two episode seven dictates this as canon i'll be taking no arguments on this day. seeing his huge mural of future vi to show powder after he upsets her really just cements this headcanon. this is a pretty big action so i'll focus on the smaller ones for now.

starting off really strong with him decorating your room for you. close your eyes and imagine him building you a shelf to store your books or keepsakes. not only building it but carving designs into it. ohh you like music? well take a look at those carvings of sheet music! and do you spy some new books in your collection (stolen from a piltover library, naturally)

with so many different types of people living at the tree, at the beginning he was pretty much forced to learn how to cook all different types of meals. it paid off though because no matter where you hail from, he'll be able to prepare you any of your favourite dishes.

the more i type about ekko the more i realise he is the best househusband out of the arcane gang. he can cook, he can clean, he's a provider - he is quite literally the entire package. him being a certified pretty boy also helps because everyone needs a little eye candy in their life.

this one is sickeningly sweet but for relationship milestones, and even just randomly, ekko will fully plan out a date night for the two of you. picnics on the top of buildings that overlook the neon lights of the undercity, just the two of you. it's so intimate.

physical touch. now this i truly will be taking no arguments on. receiving physical affection for ekko is huge. we all saw how fast he hugged benzo in the alternate au!!

with so many people from his early life either dying (benzo, vander, claggor, mylo) or leaving (jinx and vi), ekko hasn't really had anyone to offer him any form of closeness. sure, he has the firelights. it just isn't the same though.

so when you come along with all the tender hugs and fond touches that he's been deprived of for so long he knows he's done for. consider him addicted. even just clapping a hand on his shoulder after a fight, hell, LEANING ON HIM?? that man is YOURS to command for now until the end.

knowing you're just physically there and not going anywhere - not abandoning him - he's content to bask in your presence.

quick kisses and brief glances at each other come in abundance. if you're not at the firelights base then you're on the go. it's these times that make you both appreciate the time you have with each other. ekko plans to take full advantage of the downtime you both have between missions. don't expect to stray a few feet from each other.

silco — acts of service. silco's acts of service are usually communicated through orders that he gives his goons. say you offhandedly mention that some shimmer addicts have set up camp in the alley next to your apartment. when you leave the last drop and go home you notice that those shimmer addicts you briefly complained about? gone. without a trace.

i feel like he prefers to give out acts of service to you as a kind of 'i can provide for you, don't leave' kind of thing. you don't need to ask silco to do something, he'll take the initiative. he wants you to view him as a reliable provider. this sounds very 50s but he's an old fashioned kind of guy so it checks out.

not the kind of guy to do chores at the start i'm afraid. he has people for that. maybe you can convince him to wash the dishes after you cook you, him and jinx a meal. but never and i mean NEVER will you catch this man hoovering or mopping the floor. that is just simply not going to fucking happen. you'd have better luck asking him to quit smoking.

not gonna lie he just lightens the load of whatever jobs you need to do so you can spend more time together. the famed eye of zaun is clingy.

physical touch. actually controversial take no way CHILLS! similarly to jinx, silco wouldn't actively look for physical touch in any given situation. he's obviously traumatised by his former best friend choking him out and drowning him underwater. not to mention completely brutalising his eye.

jinx is likely the only person he would willingly let touch him. not even sevika on a good day gets that privilege. you would need to spend a lot of time gaining silco's undying trust. only when you two are emotionally close will you be able to share his touch.

buying you jewellery just so he can feel the warmth of your body heat as he clasps the necklace around you neck. silco is very subtle and sneaky when he wants to be close to you.

his neck is off limits to everyone, even you. placing your hand on his collarbone whilst entangled in bed together is the furthest you'll get.

vander — physical touch. oh i just know this man gives the best bear hugs. physical intimacy with vander is just safety incarnate. when he takes you into his arms it really feels like a breath of topside air after a lifetime underground.

i don't think vander would really like being with a partner that didn't enjoy physical affection. it's not only a bonding experience for the both of you to engage in but also a display of trust that he deeply values.

conveying his love for you with intimacy, non-sexual and sexual is something he cherishes. the level of mutual understanding and relationship building that comes with it is indispensable to vander. basically the keys to a successful partnership with him.

that little symbol of love in the undercity where two people touch their foreheads together? that's the most significant way you can show that you truly care for someone and it's vander's favourite way to connect with you in moments of peace.

words of affirmation. vander is the type of guy to not necessarily need words of affirmation to feel good about himself but will appreciate it all the same. he tries so hard to be a good example to the kids and in general to the populace of the undercity. he wants this life to be better. he wants to be better.

he's the leader, the protector, all the pressure is on him. affirming his efforts through words goes further than you might think.

it's you and him against the world. the brewing political storm that plagues both the undercity and piltover is little more than a distant thought when you're whispering honeyed words to and fro in the dead of night. for a man with such an imposing presence, telling him that you love and need him makes him weak.

with your words of affirmation, he's more certain of his role in the undercity than he's ever been. you renew the passion he had in youth, he wants the best for you and will do whatever he can to obtain it.

viktor — quality time. viktor is all about sharing the same space as his partner. with him being the co-founder of hextech, it's difficult for him to find time alone to dote on you. which is why you''ll often find yourself in the company of viktor (and oftentimes jayce) in their lab, them working on a new use for hextech, and yourself either studying or simply watching the magic (literally) happen.

when jayce is off being the poster child of hextech or following councillor medarda around like a lost puppy, you and viktor will settle into comfortable silences. usually with the only noise being the tinkering of science equipment or the quick scribbles of pen on paper. there's no pressure to fill the room with unnecessary chattering. just you being with him is enough. your presence is akin to a relaxant to him.

sometimes most of the time you'll need to remind him to take breaks when you've been there for hours on end and he's showing no signs of stopping or slowing down. it's a practised routine at this point; he refuses, you leave it alone for five minutes, during this time he is sneaking glances at you when he thinks you aren't looking, waiting for you to ask again.

when you do, he feigns reluctance as you grab his hand to get you both some fresh air and a proper meal. he might actually be part cat now that i'm thinking about it. he just can't help but love spending time with you.

words of affirmation. actions speak louder than words? pft, yeah right. communication is deeply valued by viktor. he's exceptional at deducing someone's intentions behind their words so don't even bother trying to get something by him. it won't work. you try to plan surprise birthday party for him? he's one of the first people to find out about it.

so when you earnestly tell him how special he is to you or how appreciative you are of him, he knows it's 100% what you actually think and BOY does that fluster him more than anything.

he isn't very big on compliments, not that he doesn't value the ones you so willingly give him, but he finds it hard to accept the good and beauty you see in him. there will always be a part of viktor, machine herald or mortal man, that refuses to believe he could be good enough for this type of love. when he retracts inside his mind and lets his doubt drown him, it's you who can pull him out of the water and onto land. telling him that you love him just the way he is will silence his uncertainty.

oh you know what would just about finish him off? making him a lunch box and putting a note in there. it doesn't having to be something poetic, even a simple 'i love you ♡' will be at the forefront of his mind until he gets back home to you.

honestly, if you're someone who expresses their love through words of gratitude or proclamations of admiration then a relationship with viktor will be smooth sailing.

#✐ᝰ cerisa’s writing #arcane #arcane s2 #arcane x reader #jinx x reader #ekko x reader #silco x reader #vander x reader #viktor x reader

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cressidagrey · 3 days ago

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Such A Mystery - Part 10

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby.

Warnings:

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this. Labour.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 10 of 12!

“Breathe,” Victoria kept insisting.

“You are doing so well, Choupinette,” her mother cooed.

Colette was quite certain that she was going to die.

At least it felt like it.

The pain was overwhelming. It didn’t feel like her body could take any more of it. The contractions were so strong and the pain was blinding in its intensity. She wasn’t certain if she could do this anymore.

“I can’t do this,” Colette choked out.

“Yes, you can,” Victoria insisted. Her voice was firm and steady. “You absolutely can do this. You’re already so far along, you just have to push. You can do this.”

"Just breathe," her mother said soothingly, stroking back her hair. "You are doing so well."

But she wasn’t doing well.

She wanted Max. No, she needed Max.

She needed him so badly. She didn’t want to do this by herself.

Colette cried out in pain as another very strong contraction hit her, clenching her teeth through it. "Max," she sobbed. "I need Max."

"I know," Victoria said, stroking her hand. "I know you do. But you can do this. Just a little bit longer, okay? It won’t be long now."

She didn’t want to do this without him. But what other choice did she have?

A strangled sob escaped her throat as she clutched her mother’s hand desperately as another contraction hit.

“We’re going to need you to push now,” the doctor said firmly. “You need to start pushing with the contractions.”

Colette cried out in pain as she tried her very best to push like they were telling her to. The pain was blinding in its intensity. But it hurt. Gods, it hurt more than anything that she had ever experienced. It was like her body was about to rip itself in half.

"You’re doing so well," her mother cooed.

"Keep Pushing."

Another strangled scream escaped her. "Max," she sobbed. "I need Max. I need him. I can’t do this.”

Victoria stroked her hair. "It’s almost over, Colette. It’s almost over. Just a little bit more," Vic promised her.

Colette wanted to give up, she wanted to give in. She wanted the pain to end. But more than anything else, she just wanted Max.

Another scream was torn from her, a ragged cry of pain as a particularly severe contraction tore through her. She was certain that she wasn’t going to survive this. The pain was too severe.

"Keep Pushing."

"Push, Push, Push"

She didn’t understand how they expected her to keep going. She could feel herself flagging, she was so exhausted.

The room was a blur around her, dark spots dancing at the corner of her vision. The sound of her own screams echoed in her ears, the pain almost overwhelming. She thought she was going to pass out.

She heard the door open.

A small part of the pain-hazed part of her mind registered the sound. She thought she was hallucinating. Surely that wasn’t the sound of the door opening. Surely she was just losing her mind under the excruciating strain.

“That took you too fucking long,” Victoria snapped. Colette would have smiled, if she hadn’t been currently in the middle of pushing. Max's familiar voice echoed in her ears, and for one sweet second, the pain all but vanished.

And then he was there. Her heart jumped and a small sob escaped her. Max. It was really Max. He was there. He was right beside her.

Dry lips pressed against her sweat slick forehead. “Liefje.“

He was there. He was really there.

"Max," she sobbed out. "You’re here. You’re really here."

"Of course I am," he said shakily. He pushed back her sweaty hair from her forehead. "You didn’t think I was going to let you do this without me, do you?"

She wanted to tell him that, in all honesty, she had thought exactly that. If he hadn’t shown up, she would have had to do this without him. But she was too exhausted, and in too much pain to form the words. All she could do was clutch at his hand, desperately clinging onto him like a lifeline.

Max immediately threaded his fingers through hers, holding her hand tightly. "I’m right here," he soothed. "I’m not going anywhere.” He was giving her something solid to hang onto.

“Another push,” the doctor encouraged.

With Max holding her hand, Colette gave one last, desperate push.

She was certain that she was going to pass out. She didn’t understand how she was still conscious. The pain was mind-numbing in its intensity. "Once more,” the doctor said firmly. “I can see the head. Just one more push.”

Colette whimpered, her breath coming in short sharp sobs. "I can’t,” she cried in exhaustion. "I can’t."

"You can,” Max said fiercely. “You are the strongest goddamn person I know, and if anyone can do this, it’s you. Just one more push, come on, liefje."

His grip on her hand was so tight, it was almost painful, but that brief moment of pain was worth it. Feeling Max's presence beside her, holding onto her so desperately with his fingers threaded firmly through hers, it was the only thing that gave her the last little bit of strength that she needed.

With a long, ragged scream, she gave one last push, pouring everything she had into it.

She could hear Max beside her, talking to her soothingly, but the words were all blending together. Her senses were slowly fading. "Push, you can do it, you’re almost done." The words were coming at her from all sides now, swirling and echoing amongst the darkness of her hazy vision, and it was all she could do to grip Max’s hand, and listen to the sound of his voice.

And then it was over.

The searing pain suddenly stopped.

For just a moment, everything was quiet.

A cry cut through the sudden silence

The sound echoed around them, small and shrill and so very loud in the stillness of the room. A choked gasp of relief escaped Colette as she slumped back against the pillows, utterly exhausted.

"There you go," Max murmured, gently wiping back the hair from her forehead. "It’s over, it’s over now. You did so well, liefje. You’ve done it."

She wanted to speak, to say something to him in return, but her tongue was so heavy in her mouth it would hardly form words. Her mind was still a blur of exhaustion, relief and adrenaline. All she could muster was a small whimper as she felt his hand gently stroking her hair.

The sound of the infant’s cries rang out again, more strongly this time. “Here,” the doctor said, sounding a little amused. “Let’s get that little girl on maman’s chest.”

Through the haze, Colette felt an immense amount of exhausted relief, as the doctor carefully placed a small, wiggling bundle on her chest.

The baby was beautiful. Small and new and perfect, and Colette felt like the very breath had been knocked out of her. All the exhaustion and the pain was suddenly entirely worth it as she cradled the tiny baby in her arms.

"Hello, bébé," she breathed softly, the words coming out as a whisper. “I thought you were going to be a boy,” she choked

A broad smile covered her face as she gently stroked the downy soft tufts of dark hair covering the baby’s head. The small, tiny, perfect little fingers wrapped around her own, and Colette’s heart felt so full it felt like it was going to burst.

"I was right," Max said, the words somewhat choked. His voice sounded almost strangled, and she didn’t need to look to know that there were tears running down his face.

Colette looked up at him then, taking in with a mixture of affection and amusement how utterly awestruck he looked. He was crying openly, tears running unashamedly down his cheeks.

“We did it,” she told Max.

“We did,” He said, his voice still choked with emotion. “She’s so beautiful.” Max sounded utterly wrecked.

Colette couldn’t help but share his feelings as she looked back down at the baby in her arms. The small infant had opened her eyes for a brief moment, revealing the most vividly blue eyes that Colette had ever seen. “She got your eyes.”

“And your hair,” Max said, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch the soft dark locks on the baby’s head.

The baby gave a little gurgle, waving her tiny hand as if to reach out for his fingers. “Hello, mooi meisje,” he said softly, his voice still sounding a little choked, as the baby tried to wrap her fingers around his own.

"She's absolutely perfect," Colette whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the tiny, perfect bundle of joy in her arms.

"Just like her mother," Max said, his voice hoarse. He stroked his finger down the baby's soft cheek, the most gentle of touches.

***

In the end…he made it with minutes to spare.

He couldn’t describe the relief that he felt when he finally burst through the door, to find Colette in the midst of giving birth. He had been so terrified that he wouldn’t make it in time.

And now here he was, sitting beside her on the bed, their daughter in her arms, safe and sound and utterly, utterly perfect.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of them both. Colette was beautiful, despite looking utterly exhausted. Her face was pale and slick with sweat, but she had never look more lovely.

And their daughter… Their daughter was perfect. Tiny, and new, the sweetest thing that Max had ever seen. He gently ran his finger down her soft, plump cheek, marveling at the sheer fragility of her.

And he couldn't stop crying. This was his family. His.

They had hoped so desperately for so long, and now there was their little girl. And she had been worth it. Worth all the heartbreak.

His eyes stung and his throat was constricting, but he couldn't help it. He knew he must look a mess, tears running unashamedly down his face and throat choked up, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. They were here, and safe, and together.

He looked down at the baby’s tiny, perfect face, her closed eyes, her nose. She had Colette’s hair, and his eyes, and Max thought that if it was possible to die of love, he was dangerously close to that moment right there.

He reached out a shaking hand to touch his daughter’s tiny fist, his own hand dwarfing hers. She opened her eyes again for a brief second, and he could have sworn that she smiled at him for just an instant.

The tears ran more freely down his face now at that thought. His daughter, his little girl, his precious perfect baby, smiled at him. It might have just been a trick of his own overjoyed emotional state, but right then, Max was convinced that it had been a real smile.

"She's perfect, liefje," he whispered, his words coming out a little choked. "She's so damn perfect.”

"Dad, you want to cut the cord?" the doctor asked him.

The question seemed to take a moment to register in his hazy emotional state, but when it did, Max’s breath caught in his chest for a moment. And then just as quickly, he nodded mutely.

In a daze, he reached for the small pair of scissors that the midwife handed over to him, cutting the umbilical cord under her careful supervision.

He was in a daze, even when they took his daughter from Colette to check her over and bath her. "Stay with her," Colette told him softly. "Go on."

Max nodded, unable to find the words to answer to her. He stood up on slightly shaky legs, watching as the midwife took his daughter over to the small bassinet and started to check her over.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of his baby, tiny and perfect and theirs. All the years of trying, all the hope and the heartbreaks, and now there was their little girl, safe and sound.

He got to watch her be bathed and then swaddled right into a soft pink swaddle that he knew he himself had bought because Colette kept insisting that it was a boy...and then he finally got to hold her in his arms and cry some more, because she was perfect.

He cradled her small, tiny form in his arms, his fingers trembling a little as he gently touched the soft downy skin of her cheek. Her weight was barely anything at all in his arms, and for a moment, terror gripped his heart. Was he holding her too hard? What if he hurt her?

"You aren't going to hurt her," Victoria said suddenly and he stared at his sister that sat down next to her. "You aren't. I promise you. Babies aren't as breakable as they look," she teased him softly. "Congrats, Maxie."

Max nodded, a little startled. He had honestly forgotten that his sister was even there, the arrival of his baby girl had taken up most of his attention.

"Thanks, Vic," he managed, his voice still choked.

He looked down at the baby in his arms again. They had wrapped her tightly in the pink swaddle that he himself had insisted on months ago. He had been so sure that the baby was a girl. And he had been right.

He wouldn't have cared either way, but...he had been right.

"She's perfect," he whispered, his eyes burning.

Victoria smiled, watching him with a softness in her eyes that Max wasn't sure he had seen before. “You’re a father,” she said simply. “How does it feel?”

“Like my heart’s going to explode with pure happiness,” Max admitted, looking back down at his daughter in his arms. “Like I can’t breathe. Like I’m dreaming. I don’t…I don’t know how to describe it.”

"Welcome to the sleep deprivation community that is parenthood," Vic joked softly. "You are going to be the best father," she told him.

It made him choke up. That absolute certainty with which his little sister said that, a hand on his shoulder. "You are going to be the best father to her," Victoria promised him fiercely.

Fresh tears welled up in his eyes as he looked up at his sister. “I’ll do my best,” he managed to say, his voice a little choked. “I’ll do absolutely anything for her, for both of them. Anything in the world.”

They didn't often talk about their childhood...about all the things that had gone down...the long drawn out screaming matches they could remember before their parents had divorced and the separation that came afterwards...

They didn’t like to talk about it. It was one of those things that they usually just skirted around, because when they brought it up, old feelings and emotions came up with it. And the fights weren’t pleasant to remember...

But in that moment, Max felt a profound sense of relief. For the first time, he was glad those fights had happened, because if they hadn’t…he and Vic wouldn’t have the relationship they had now, and he wouldn’t have learned, from all of the pain and heartbreak of those fights, what not to do. He never wanted his daughter to grow up like that. He never wanted her to feel the pain of a broken family like they had.

And he knew that he would do absolutely everything in his power to prevent that from happening. He and Colette would keep their family tightly together and protect and love their little girl with everything that they had.

No matter what.

A fresh wave of tears welled up in his eyes at the thought of that. "I don't ever want her to grow up like we did, Vic," he managed to say, the words still a little choked. "I don't ever want her to feel like we did."

"She won't," Vic assured him, her voice still soft. "Because you're going to be a great father. She'll grow up feeling loved and wanted and safe. I know that, Maxie."

His throat felt as if it was slowly closing up. "Thanks, bink," he managed to say, his voice cracking. "It means a lot. I..." His eyes stung, and he swallowed hard. "I couldn't ever thank you enough for being here. For being with us."

For coming even when he handn’t asked…for somehow knowing without being told what they needed.

His sister just smiled at him, her blue eyes, so similar to his own, sparkling. "She’s my niece," she reminded him. "You're not getting rid of me. I'm going to spoil her rotten, you know that?"

"You are going to have fierce competition, Victoria" Pascale said softly.

He looked up to where Colette's mother was tucking her own daughter back into the bed, fussing over her. Colette looked better than she had before, freshly showered, still exhausted, but no longer...no longer looking like she was going to faint any minute.

Colette was already sitting up, even though she would be in pain for a while, a testament to her usual stubbornness.

"Maxie." Colette didn't need to say more than that, as he stood and crossed the room, safely putting their daughter back on her mother's chest.

He sat on the edge of her bed, careful not to jostle her too much. "Hey," he said softly, wrapping an arm gently around her shoulders. "How are you feeling, liefje?"

"I'm okay," she said softly, resting her head weakly against him. "Sore. Tired. Happy. Went through 6 hours of labour, only to give birth to your and Charles' clone," she said drily, making her mother laugh.

Max smiled faintly, resting his head against hers. “Charles?” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"She does look awfully similiar," Pascale agreed.

Max gave a small laugh, glancing back down at the baby. He supposed there was a resemblance, if one knew what to look for. “She’s not a clone,” he countered, a note of mock offense in his voice. “She’s a perfect mix of us.”

"With what I am pretty certain is Charles' nose," Colette said drily.

Max laughed faintly, reaching out to gently touch the baby’s tiny nose with his finger. It narrowed just so at the tip… “Maybe,” he conceded thoughtfully.

His daughter stirred faintly at the contact, a small noise coming from her mouth that sounded a bit like a grumble. Max smiled at the sound.

“And I’m pretty sure she’s just as stubborn as her mother,” he teased Colette.

She reached up to lightly smack his hand, but her smile was fond. “Like you aren’t just as stubborn,” she retorted.

Their daughter took that moment to complain loudly for once and Colette shifted her slightly, unbuttoning her pyjama top. At least one thing went down with absolutely no fuss whatsoever. A few minutes later, their daughter had greedily nursed, burped and was back to slumbering quietly.

"Are the three musketeers still outside?" Colette asked.

“They are,” Max confirmed, brushing a strand of hair back from Colette’s face. He had all but forgotten about Colette’s brothers.

"Get them," Colette said softly.

Max smiled. "All of them?" he teased. He knew that was exactly what she had meant."All of them," she nodded.

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paddockletters · 1 day ago

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redeemed | lando norris

summary: After a messy breakup, Lando’s fans blame his best friend for ruining his relationship. request: yes! sorry took me too long :(( tbh, this had been sitting in drafts for a while because i wasn’t entirely convinced about it (still not 100%, to be fair), but i thought, “Well, maybe they’ll like it,” so here it issss

landonorris

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landonorris: Another race weekend!

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user1: I want to be Y/N so baaaad🤧 lando’sgf: love you so muchhhh!!!❤️ user2: Y/N made it again in Lando’s post, love them! user3: I’d love a friendship like Lando and Y/N’s 😭😭😭

yourusername: Great weekend, miss you alredy muppet 🤧❤️

landonorris: It was! When are you coming to visit again?

user4: Lando replied to Y/N but not his gf…💀💀 user5: THE fit, THE smile, THE overtakes 😭 user6: She really needs to back off from Lando and Alice user7: Photo 3 >>> everything else 🫠

lando’sgf posted a story.

yourusername

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yourusername: About last month 💗

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carlossainz55: Feeling special for being in your post 🤧

yourusername: You should, cos it won’t happen again 💀

user8: Lando’s smile in the 3rd photo? how do I sign up for your life? 😭 user9: She can’t post without Lando or some driver in it 🤮

user10: True that, she’s all about the fame

user11: living my dream life AND looking flawless while doing it?❤️😭 user12: always getting in the way of Lando and Alice, proper messing with them 🙄

user13: what are you on about? Lando and Y/N have been friends for yearsss 🤡

user14: well, why didn’t anyone know about her till now? she just wants Lando for the fame, no doubt

landonorris posted a story

lando’s gf posted a story.

lando’s gf

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lando’s gf: ❤️❤️

landonorris

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landonorris: Free time when I’m not driving a F1 car around the world

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user15: Lando— HAHAHA

user16: where’s Alice???

user17: y'all are obsessed with his gf, mind your own business ffs

user18: Bet Y/N’s asking Lando not to take Alice 🙄

user19: giiiirl, touch some grass! Alice has been back in her country

user20: Y/N’s always with Lando, so he’s footing the bill for everything

user21: Everything, mate—GP trips, holidays, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got him paying her rent too 🤮

user22: I wouldn’t want to be Alice, seeing Y/N everywhere around Lando 💀

landonorris just posted a story.

yourusername posted a story

yourusername

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yourusername: [No caption]

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user23: an unexpected crossover user24: Oh, so the gold-digger’s moved on to someone else now? user25: Hope you’re proud of yourself for ruining Lando and Alice’s relationship, biTCH user26: Hope you die

carlossainz55: should I feel proud because you went to a Real Madrid match or bad for "L" because you went out with someone from that team???

carlossainz55: nah, estoy orgulloso

user27: stay away from Lando, you slut

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lando’sex-girlfriend

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lando’sex-girlfriend: A little miracle is on the way, and we couldn’t be more excited. 👼

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user28: Nearly had a heart attack, thought Lando was going to be a dad 😭😭😭 user29: No way, she was the one who cheated 💀 user30: 💀

landonorris

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landonorris: I lost the best thing in my life because of all of you.

Because of your words, your hate, your accusations. You turned her into the villain when all she ever was, was my best friend.

You all tore us apart, pushed me to let go of the one person who truly mattered, all because you couldn’t mind your own business.

And now, seven months later, I see the truth—she was never the problem. I was. I should’ve fought for her. But instead, I let you win.

I’ll never forgive myself for that. I lost her because of you.

—Lando

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user31: lando, you did what you thought was best at the time. We’re all human, and nobody should have been attacking her like that

user32: we judged her without knowing the full story 🤧

user33: can’t believe we believed the lies

user 34: I feel so bad now

danielricciardo: Lando, I’ve got your back. It’s crazy how people act like they know your life when they don’t 🤛

user35: It’s hard to see things clearly when the pressure is on you. Glad you’re speaking out now, nobody deserves that kind of hate, especially someone as good

user36: It’s obvious she meant a lot to you but the media and fans never understood that

user37: We were too quick to judge her

maxverstappen1: People love to talk without knowing the full story. Stay strong, mate, always here if you need to talk 🤜🤜

time skip

landonorris

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landonorris: I don’t think there’s anyone who deserves this more than her. From being the absolute boss she is in everything she touches to owning this year’s CEO of the Year award (seriously, she’s amazing), I couldn’t be prouder I of course I’m the best wag

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user38: YOUR WIFE?!?!? 😱 i can’t even process it. Lando, what’s happening?!

user39: wait, I thought you were single?? How did we miss this??

user40: no… I THOUGHT THE WERE FRIENDSS????

user41: wait a damn minute—Lando’s married??!! And she’s holding CEO of the year??? I need answers 😭

user42: OH MY GODDD She’s literally living the dream!! And Lando, we all knew you were the best, but now you’ve just confirmed it

user43: HE’S MARRIED?!? And she’s CEO OF THE YEAR?!?! You guys are literally goals

user44: i’m happy for you but also I’m crying in my room so… mixed emotions 🫠🧡

user45: Y/N is literally TOO perfect and it’s offensive to the rest of us 😭😭😭

user46: No hate, but also… I’m fighting for my life over here while Y/N is living my dream 😭

user47: @/yourusername you wake up every day and think, ‘how can I flex on everyone today?’ Because wow 💀

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darnell-la · 3 days ago

Text

FRIENDS & CUFFS

summary: y/n has only been curious about Eddie’s handcuffs after they began dating. she wondered why he never used them on her, and at first, long told her she didn’t know anything about that life. she soon found out that Eddie had a lot to teach her.

warnings: quick friends to lovers storyline, making out, fem receiving oral from male, reader weakens after orgasm, slight innocent reader, drug dealer Eddie (not really mentioned), rough sex, bondage (Eddie’s handcuffs/chains), missionary, doggy, no protection, crying, whining, a lot of male noises, pet names, chocking, etc.

note: we haven’t done an Eddie Munson fan fiction in a while. we still love him, so, there will be more. more stranger things in general. you see what I did there? — nevermind.

———

Steve nearly asked Eddie every day since he graduated, when he was going to make a move on y/n. He hated watching the two drink and get close, yet never make a move.

When people would ask them if they were together, or assume, anyone could tell they the nervousness entered the room.

Not too long ago, y/n and Eddie finally made a move. It seemed so perfect how they both leaned in to feel each other’s lips.

“I think we should stop — You’re drunk, and it’s getting late,” Eddie whispered after y/n stopped fake fighting on top of him. “What if I won’t want to sleep just yet?” Y/n asked, a bit shy, but the alcohol in her body, helped her gain confidence.

“You’re drinks, princess, and I’m not. I don’t want you to regret this, and mess our friendship up,” Eddie said, really wanting to taste her, but she was afraid of showing what he’s been wanting to do with her.

“A kiss could never ruin our friendship, Eddie,” y/n said, slightly sounding desperate as her eyes could barely stay open. “Wanna do more than just kiss you, y/n,” Eddie admitted.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at what her best friend said. She thought she was the only one who wanted to experiment with him. She felt nasty, but now, she felt loose.

The two both crashed on each other’s lips, making g out rough but passionate. None of them have kissed like this before. They would’ve never mixed their saliva like this with anyone, but because it’s them, they wanted to do much more.

The night ended with y/n halfway passed out, and Eddie’s face resting on y/n’s thigh, dripping juice from y/n’s throbbing heat. “So good for me — I wanna get used to this,”

Now, the two are dating, happier than ever, but y/n has been curious lately. She didn’t pay much attention when they were just friends, but now that they’re dating, she thought about Eddie’s handcuffs.

Most partners would be jealous, but y/n? She was curious. She thought to herself plenty of times how he would use them on her, and why he hadn’t done it yet. They’ve only been sexual for a short time, but if he were kinky like that, why wouldn’t he mention it?

“You good, sweetheart?” Eddie asked after turning to his girlfriend who seemed to be daydreaming. “Yeah, I was just thinking,” y/n said, not knowing if she should bring this up as a conversation so soon her their relationship.

“What is it? What were you thinking about?” The metalhead asked as he leaned back on his bed, taking his eyes off the weed he was pre-rolling for his rich customers who couldn’t do it on their own.

“So, uh — I noticed the handcuffs, and I was curious,” y/n said as she stared at the cuffs that were basically chains, dangling from a hook in his wall. She knew that had to be for something sexual.

“Hey, y/n, look — I swear on my uncle, I’ve never used them in anyone, and never planned to. I just liked the thought of them near me. I’ve even thought about you in them,” Eddie spoke quietly, a bit embarrassed by his truth.

“Oh, wait, I wasn’t jealous or anything. I just was curious on why you didn’t use them on me yet,” y/n said, making Eddie's eyes widen. For the longest, he had thought y/n was innocent, and she was. She was just open-minded when it came to her boyfriend.

“You’re not ready for that, princess,” Eddie chuckled lightly. “Why not?” Y/n asked, a bit offended as she crossed her arms. “Being restrained means you can’t do anything. I don’t think that it’s a good idea to put you in something like that, knowing you’d wanna get out,”

“What do you mean, want to get out? I can take it,” y/n said, only making the man laugh. “You can’t even take me slow in doggy. What makes you think you can take me deep up front with your pretty hands cuffed?”

Eddie shifted in the bed to cup y/n’s chin, slightly teasing her because they both knew she wasn’t a taker. Especially with his length.

“I-I can take it — It’s not even that bad,” y/n said, making Eddie throw himself back onto his bed with a loud laugh, knowing his uncle wasn’t home to tell him to shut the hell up.

“What!? You’re mean as fuck, you know?” Y/n said as she kept her arms crossed. “Oh, really, baby? I’m sorry, it’s just — You’re a comedian,” Eddie kept laughing, only making y/n roll her eyes.

“C’mon, I’m just pullin’ your tit, baby,” Eddie leaned up to hug y/n, but she moved away. “Babe, don’t start this. I was just kidding,” Eddie tried hugging y/n again, but this time she pushed him away. Of course, not too hard. She was just being dramatic.

“And, that’s why we can’t do what you wanna do. You can’t even handle being picked on a little bit,” Eddie said as he pushed at y/n’s shoulder lightly, slightly feeling bad for what he did.

“Whatever, I’ll be fine,” y/n said, making y/n sigh as he rolled his eyes. “Fine — We can use em, but ion wanna hear none of that cryin', okay?” Eddie jumped off of the bed to get his handcuffs that had dust all over them.

“Really?” Y/n asked, a bit excited, but knowing she wouldn’t be too excited soon. “Ah huh, but only one rule,” Eddie said with a smirk as he untangled the chains. “Yeah?” Y/n innocently asked, not knowing how quick of a turn this would take.

“The only thing stopping me, is our safe word,” before y/n could agree with a smile, Eddie lunged at her, grabbing her quest roughly to cuff them as quick as possible.

“Hey,” y/n said with an eye roll, not knowing he’d get in the mood this fast. “Not a word from you, princess. Let’s see how good you think you can take it,” Eddie said as he placed the chains where they needed to be.

Seeing y/n in this sight, made him harder than he thought he could get. She was always beautiful, but seeing her innocent body slightly retrained, knowing she was actually ready for what was coming, made him want to burst then and there.

“Always thought about tying you up at school. I was a little perv-nerd when it came to you, princess. You always looked and smelled so good — Had to keep myself from throwing you in my van with your hands and legs tied,”

Eddie was in an emotion he couldn’t control. He was either not sure about putting his pretty girl through this, or he was getting too dark to the point he would black out and not remember anything he’d do to her tonight.

“Pretties thighs — Pretties body — Pretties fucking face,” Eddie slightly growled as he gripped y/n’s face. The younger girl whined with huge eyes, feeling her heat get wet.

“I know, baby — Hearts probably rising. Maybe a hint of fear, knowing you can’t get loose — Don’t worry. You know, I’ll take good care of you,”

Eddie quickly began tugging on y/n’s clothes until parts of her showed more than before. She had already had her night dress in, so exposing her bra-covered breast was easy.

“You sure you want this y/n because, fuck — I won’t be able to stop myself,” Eddie warned as he climbed on top of y/n, pulling her dress up as she slightly moved at his cold hands grazing her skin.

“U-Use me — Please,” y/n stuttered, not knowing if she should’ve said it. “What’s the safe word?” Eddie asked in a stern tone. “Red,” y/n said, feeling her heart raise. This was actually happening, and she only had to question him once.

“Good girl,” Eddie grunted as he reached into his jeans to pull himself out. “And, that’s the only thing I wanna hear from you tonight,” Eddie said as he pulled y/n’s panties to the side.

“I-I’ll try,” y/n spoke, making Eddie shake his head with a chuckle. “You’re always doing a terrible job. Just means I’ll have to start off rough,” before anything, Eddie doubly pushed through y/n’s walls, causing her to cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Yeah? You feel that? Feel how deep I am inside of you? I told you doggy would be the only position you could truly handle — This is next level,” Eddie couldn’t stop but grin down at the struggles woman.

“S-So much,” y/n whined low, only making Eddie shush her. “Nah uh, what did I say? Didn’t I say to keep that pretty mouth closed? Hm? — You’re the one who wanted this, so accept the journey,”

Eddie grabbed both sides of y/n’s waist before pushing down onto the mattress. Y/n knew he was positioning himself to fuck her rough. He’s never gone too rough, but she asked for it tonight.

“Hush it up, princess — You wanted it,” Eddie continued saying as he pounded down into y/n, going the deepest he could get at the start of his session. After being handcuffed, there would be no room for taking it slow.

“E-Eddie,” y/n cried out as she pulled one of her restraints. At times, she’d forget that she wouldn’t be able to get out. “Wanna break free? Keep trying, princess — Makes this so much hotter,” Eddie growled with a smile, looking down at the way y/n pulled on the chains.

“This is the tightest you’ve ever been — The way you’re soaking around me, only makes me closer,” Eddie felt himself twitch. He didn’t want to cum this quick, but it didn’t matter. He’s always been able to keep going.

“Eddie- Eddie, you — The condoms. You forgot the condoms,” y/n took forever to say what she was trying to say. “Oh, really? Guess that’s your luck, hm?” Eddie leaned in front of y/n’s face.

Deep down, Eddie felt bad for slipping into her without protection. He had completely forgotten, but he didn’t want to get out of character. He had to somehow make sure y/n was 100% with what was going on.

“Tell me you want me to stop. Tell me. Tell me!” Eddie slightly yelled as he snapped his hips, wanting to keep his work going. He could feel the way she fluttered around him. She was so close.

“Too much, Eds — I’m gonna cum,” y/n made the mistake of telling him how close she was. “And, you want me to stop? When you’re so close? C’mon,” Eddie leaned into y/n’s ear so she could hear his groans better.

The room was filled with wet slaps, whining, growling, and a bunch is cuss words from Eddie. He couldn’t keep himself together. This situation was too much for him. He was going to explode.

“E-Eddie, slow down — Please,” y/n tried begging the man, but he wouldn’t listen. Why would he? She hadn’t used the safe word yet. “Want me to slow down?” Eddie asked as he leaned up.

“Yes, yes,” y/n huffed, surprised he actually slowed down. She had thought he got soft, but little did she know, he was just getting a short break. “Want me to be nicer? Take it easy on you?” He asked as he softly placed his hands around her neck.

“Please-“ y/n was cut off by the grip of his hands. “Then you asked the wrong one to chain you up, sweetheart,” Eddie spat before he began slamming into her, making the young lady cry out instantly.

“E-Eds! C-Can’t anymore — I can’t!” Y/n kicked and arched her back, trying to control herself, but her cunt continued to squeeze around Eddie, only assuring him that he was doing exactly what she wanted. Using her.

“That’s it — Keep struggling — You’re going nowhere, and this isn’t even the beginning — I have so many loads I’ve been wanting to empty into you,” Eddie tightened his grip a bit more to hear her struggle for air.

For a second, Eddie thought he might have been going too far tonight. Quickly handcuffing her, saying mean things, pinning her down, and fucking get rougher than he’s ever done.

The only thing that helped him was her words. She never once came close to the word red. She would’ve said it by now, and she would never come to him later and say she was uncomfortable. Y/n wasn’t like that.

That’s how Eddie knew y/n probably enjoyed this more than him. She loved faking that she needed him to stop. He even saw a small pour from her when he slowed down a few minutes ago.

“C-Cumming — Cunming,” y/n’s body stiffened before she shook. “That’s it- That’s it — Fucking take it,” the older man growled as he pounded her, wanting her juice to splash anywhere it could.

“Ian stoppin’ either, baby — Told you to keep that fucking mouth shut, didn’t I?” Eddie asked, but y/n didn’t answer. Her eyes were landing everywhere but on him. She felt out of it already.

“Didn’t I!?” The man shouted as he shook y/n by her neck to catch her attention. “S-Sorry,” tears streamed from her eyes, upset at herself for not taking it like she swore she could.

Right as Eddie went to assure her that she was fine, she spoke, shocking him.

“I-I’ll be good, I promise. Please cum in me. D-Don’t pull out and punish me,” she cried. “I’ll do anything, Eds, just- Please, use me,”

“Jesus’s H. Christ,” Eddie huffed as he pulled out. He quickly turned his girlfriend around, knowing the chains were long enough for her to be comfortable. He took no time to push back in her, roughly, with a warning.

Y/n wanted to speak out loud to thank him, he she kept quiet. She wanted to be good like she promised.

“You’re just a slut, y/n — A dirty fucking slut, and I knew it from how you dressed at parties — You always got drunk before you sat on my lap, facing me- Dragging that pretty pussy across my clothes cock — Swore you even stained my jeans, once,”

Y/n whined, happy that he noticed his much she wanted him before they got together. Yeah, a bit of embarrassment was felt, but the thought of being caught was what made her close to another orgasm.

“You’re in for a ride with me, princess. Especially after I coat these walls,”

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cats-spilled-wine-foolery · 1 day ago

Text

I actually wrote it on my art blog some time ago, but I could never find the original post of the idea, since I saw it on Pinterest without credits and Google wasn't of much help. But since I found it now, and completely by accident, I'm posting my first ever song attempt again. I honestly have no idea if somebody would be actually able to sing it, but oh well. Maybe I'll improve the rhymes sometime in the future.

I also tried to apply Tolkien’s style of merry songs, so... yeah. Well... here it is:

The Tally at the Hornburg

1. Lift all your pints and ales,

And harken to my tale, dear friends!

A tale of a friendship unlikely,

Of rivalry that hasn't hindered it, not even slightly!

One, two, three, there flies another!

Over the wall, and up he goes!

And down he goes!

Down, down on the heads of his comrades,

Ha ha!

2. Come and listen closely:

Laughter, oddly seeming phony,

A laughter laughed by a one dwarf tall,

As he swings his axe, and another orc falls, down, down the wall!

One, two, three, there flies another!

Over the wall, and up he goes!

And down he goes!

Down, down on the heads of his comrades,

Ha ha!

3. Near the dawn, after night,

A call is heard through the sky bright.

"Thirty two!", cries the dwarf to his friend,

And the elf throws a sheild on the stairs, slides down, and - oh! - he fares!

One, two, three, there flies another!

Over the wall, and up he goes!

And down he goes!

Down, down on the heads of his comrades,

Ha ha!

4. Post-fight, the dwarf sits down,

And sitting on the ruins, lown,

He pulls out a pipe from b'hind his belt,

And waits for the elf to share the count of blows that he had dealt.

One, two, three, and the elf comes by!

Pulls out a bow, and shares his count!

The final count!

The count, that goes up to forty two,

Ha ha!

5. "Forty two, you say, eh?

Not bad, for a pointy-eared prince.

If not as good as it could have been!

For I, myself, am higher on a count that is forty three!”

One, two, three, the elf is distressed.

Not so easily bested, no!

"My dear mister!

I'm sure to win in a drinking game,

Ha ha!"

6. Later that day, that night,

The elf and dwarf sit down to fight!

To fight for the deciding ending!

And soon they are ready, with hands gripping pints, faces pending.

One, two, three, there's downed another!

Onto the table, and refilled!

And downed again!

Downed, downed to the glory of either,

Ha ha!

7. Into the night, or dawn,

The friends will not so much as yawn!

The fight is still on, neither will lose,

While the bottoms of the barrels deep will soon be split in twos!

One, two, three, there's downed another!

Onto the table, and refilled!

And downed again!

Downed, downed to the glory of either,

Ha ha!

8. Attention! The dwarf sways,

The merry elf glances his way.

"Not too long until he collapses,

I am sure - I dearly hope - to last just a few more lapses".

One, two, three, there's downed another!

Onto the table, and refilled!

And downed again!

Downed, downed to the glory of either,

Ha ha!

9. The dwarf, as foretold, falls.

The elf, overjoyed, stands and calls:

"'Tis was a jubilant endeavor,

But now I must announce, to my rebuilded joy and viguor:

Game over!”

One, two, three, there's downed the last one!

Onto the table, and away!

Away, away!

Away, to the joy of the victor,

Ha ha!

10. This is the tale, dear folks,

Of an elf prince, that could not boast,

And his dwarf friend who, by just one pint,

Was bested in a drinking game, collapsed, and drowned was his mind,

With alcohol!

One, two, three, there flies another!

Over the wall, and up he goes!

And down he goes!

Down, down on the heads of his comrades,

Ha ha!

One, two, three, there's downed another!

Onto the table, and refilled!

And downed again!

Downed, downed to the glory of either,

Ha ha!

since it's really common for events in Middle-Earth to become the subject of songs, i'd like to raise you this headcanon:

The Tally at the Hornburg, a fun drinking song from Rohan about a Dwarf who beat an Elf in a tally of orc kills by one, and later that night the Elf beats the Dwarf in a drinking game by one mug of ale, on purpose.

Eomer definitely had a hand in creating it.

It spread to Aglarond and became such a common song there that most of the younger citizens don't realize the Dwarf in the song is actually their Lord Gimli, aka elf-friend.

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satorena · 1 day ago

Text

#INTRO2MUNCH101

summ. when suguru “eat it off the bone” geto actually turns out to be suguru “flaps the left lip until she calls it a night” geto, he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew about his skills. . . talk about a rude awakening.

cw. explicit content. foul language. fem!reader. college!au. eventual smut (but not in the way you think. . .) mild modern lingo. allusions to music artists. cunningulūs. male masturbation. reader has a belly piercing. she’s also depicted mean by the boys. gojo cameos bc i can’t not mention him. tattoo artist!geto. substance consumption. lowkeyyy self-indulgent reader. 10k wc.

rena's note. this is a spin-off to p power, so i’d suggest reading that first to understand the correlation!

suguru geto is a simple man.

your pleasure is his pleasure. he’s always prided himself on being a pro at the art of cunningulus. honest— he’s always left with swollen lips, a heavily sprayed face and a solid five star ratings at the end of his work. his jaw feels tired out, scalp burning from consistent hair tugs, and his breathing uneven from lack of oxygen. but at the feel of plush thighs squeezing his face and the repetition of his name flowing into the air before getting squirted on, he remembers it’s always worth it.

no pain no gain, right?

wrong.

because here he finds himself, a hefty hour in since he first dove in between your soft legs, and there’s been absolutely no development. sprawled on your back on his sheets, arm slung over your eyes, and your breathing even. you look fucking bored, and his heart is sinking to his ass.

geto will use every trick he has in the book. he’s noticed overtime that girls have different bodies, therefore he needs different tactics to stimulate those bodies. he nips at your puffy bud, sucking on your clit for external pleasure. no use. fine, then he’ll push your thighs up some more for a deeper penetration of his fingers in your cunt— still no use. the only sounds being produced are his mouth slipping against his own saliva at your pussy because he can’t even get you wet enough.

the pit in his stomach grows larger. he wonders if maybe you’re just the silent type? he’s come across those before.

he’s getting nervous out of his mind, so shaky and uncoordinated that his hand slips and meets your lips for the umpteenth time— and only then do you release a guttural groan, the very first sound you’ve made in a long ass time. wait—

“did. . . did you cum?” he pants, pulling his sticky lips away from yours. his face feels moist, blood rushing all in his head and he’s lightheaded. but still, he has to know.

you push yourself up to your elbows, annoyance clear as day. he’s yet to seen this look on a girl after pulling every card known on the table, “yeah. . . to the wrong fucking house.”

oh fuck.

☆ ☆ ☆

he first spotted you chatting it up with your friends on the school’s soccer field, on a random tuesday afternoon, and he’s been hooked on you ever since.

the universe played a funny game, and he realized university truly is a small ass world. amongst your friends, he noticed a familiar face. one he’s been hearing and seeing of one too many times lately, on multiple separate and traumatic occasions— gojo’s girlfriend. suguru found himself bonding with her due to their familiar point of interest— that being gojo— and believes he can now make of her a friend.

geto watches his best friend’s eyes shimmer and he flashes his infamous million dollar smile. he really is obsessed with his girlfriend and she doesn’t even know— and geto finds himself wishing he had somebody he’d be this ecstatic over. must be nice.

“i’m gonna go say hi to my girl real quick,” gojo taps at his shoulder, and geto nods. he’s cool on it, he’ll wait back here until he’s done, or can make his way to his next class depending on whatever gojo and his girlfriend arrange. “you comin’?”

“i’m probably gonna head to our next lecture.” geto voices out, pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time. he feels gojo peeking over his shoulder, in which he assumes to verify if that would be necessary.

over forty-five minutes. damn it.

“that’s mad pointless, class doesn’t start till more than half an hour,” gojo says, and geto doesn’t see himself waiting around that long for a lecture. no way, “just come— her friends are chill.”

fuck it, he goes. naturally, gojo is all over his girl and her friends expect it. geto does give them a little wave when gojo introduces him. one of the girls mention having heard of him through a friend— something about a failed talking stage. mad federal, and the sheepish chuckle geto offers when you give him an unreadable look makes him want to crawl into a ditch.

so now you think he’s a whore. awesome.

and gojo’s smirk definitely doesn’t help him out. he doesn’t help out at all actually, so enamoured by his girlfriend that he leaves geto to fend for himself against a pack of wolves (read: nosy girls). he replies only when spoken to, nods when necessary and throws in a few “that’s crazy,” to which the girls fail to pick up he’s out of words to say.

well, everyone except you.

you’re quiet. in fact, the whole time, you haven’t said shit to him. you sit back and observe, occasionally typing on your macbook, or reapplying your lip combo. you didn’t have any words to say to him. even when your friends would talk to you, you gave them short answers and went back to listening to whatever was playing in your airpods. he could tell from that small interaction alone, you were the mean one out of your clique.

and fuck if that didn’t make him want you more. there was just something about mean women that made him want to break through their fake ass exteriors and watch them turn all soft and chummy for him.

blame it on his corruption kink.

gojo confirms his thoughts when they’re finally on their way to class. he kissed his girl goodbye and waved off her friends, to which they all (minus you) collectively cooed, “byeee gojooo!” which he found odd, but kept silent. he gave them a small nod before following his best friend.

they’re a few steps in the science building when the words slip before he can help it, ultimately cutting gojo’s rambling off, “yo, who was that girl?”

gojo glances at him before chuckling, “there was like seven of ‘em. which one?”

“the quiet one.”

it throws him off guard when gojo laughs hard. like, really hard. it attracts the attention of bystanders, who give him a crazy look but gojo ignores. as if they’d try to press him about his volume— the two were pretty adored around campus.

geto does find his reaction quite interesting, to which he cocks a brow and offers a chuckle of his own, “what?”

“oh, you definitely mean y/n,” when his laughter dies down, he finally answers. he lifts his shades to his hairline to swipe a tear. “she’s mean as fuck, bro.”

“right?!” geto laughs, tapping at gojo’s shoulder. it only charges gojo’s laughing fit back up, “i could tell from her vibe. she gives off those ‘men ain’t shit’ girlies on twitter. whole time, she’s probably laid up in bed with one.”

“you don’t even knowww,” gojo holds his shoulder and shakes him a bit. geto does in fact know, because he’s dealt with girls like her before. they’re always a good ass time. “she does men dirty. like, absolutely dogs them. heard one phone call too many.”

oh? even better than he expected. she’s probably the type that used to love hard before getting her heart trampled on and decided to seek revenge on all men. like, on some jennifer’s body shit. geto can’t help but smirk, “lemme see for myself. put me on.”

gojo falters in his step. his grip on geto’s shoulders loosen and his expression changes— not by much, but the once lighthearted smile switches to a skeptical one, “you serious?”

geto lets out a soft sigh, shrugging gojo’s hands off his shoulders. “don’t start asking too much. i did a favour for you and your girl, didn’t i?,” well, technically speaking it wasn’t like his comment had been the deciding factor for the two, but it did open gojo’s eyes. “you owe me one.”

“i don’t owe you shit,” gojo laughs, throwing his arm around geto anyways, “buuut you’re my boy and i’m not stingy. i’ll see what i can do, i know you’ve been getting a lil jealous of wifey and i.”

“shut the fuck up.” geto’s chuckles contradict his statement.

from that point on, it’s smooth sailing. gojo texts his girl asking if she’s seeing anybody. they have a little back and forth because his girlfriend assumes he’s asking for himself— which gojo gets all dramatic and throws geto under the bus for free. welp! it all worked out anyway since after he and gojo parted, you’d thought he was fine shyt. judging from your character, he doesn’t exactly take gojo’s words for what they are.

but he’ll take the opening, it’s as good as any.

time to plot.

☆ ☆ ☆

the second encounter was purely coincidental. and simultaneously embarrassing.

see, geto prides himself on his mysterious act— granted he was anything but. people see all that is gojo and automatically assume that geto has to be the cool one. it creates a perfect balance, no?

haven’t people heard of birds of a feather flock together?

so yes, he’s also a nerd. he typically enjoys spending his wednesday afternoons at dice board cafes because why not. it’s a chill, lowkey joint right off campus and not a lot of people gravitate towards, therefore the perfect spot to camp out before his evening lecture.

besides, his buddy choso works there and it gets him discounts. it isn’t the only reason he shows up, but it does help a lot on his pockets. being a student is awful, financially.

geto sips on his choco latte through a straw, browsing through the board games pamphlet as he decides what he’s going to play today. most of these games are pretty pointless if he doesn’t have an opponent, but he likes to think it helps develop his iq. he hears avenoir playing through the cafe and knows choso’s on aux.

who else could be playing this toxic ass shit?

he’s torn choosing between snakes and ladders or chess when he hears chimes at the front door, signalling somebody’s entered the establishment. he doesn’t think much of it, going on about minding his business when he hears choso say your name.

the latte enters the wrong tube and he chokes.

geto collects himself quickly, wiping any stray liquid past his mouth as his head snaps up. you’re propped up against the counter, and though he can’t see your face, he definitely recognizes your build. . . okay, yeah that sounds fucking pervy but if he stalked your page a few times, who’s business is it but his own? it’s not like you’d know. granted, he had got caught up liking one of your older photos but he took the like right back!

he debates on walking up to you. how would that even work without seeming desperate? you’ve been checking out all of his boxes so far— your face, body and attitude (question mark) are all tens. he does want to get to know you— at least be somebody in your life. but damn, why is he overthinking this? all he has to get up there and sweet talk you. he’s done this shit before.

“yo, suguru!”

shit.

purple orbs shift towards where his name was called, and lo and behold, there stands choso. and naturally, you look back to who was summoned, but god— social media does not do your face justice. he last seen you about a week ago, and had nothing but your instagram and his memory to rely on.

he makes his way to the counter and ignores you. doesn’t spare you a glance once— though he stands right at your side and watches you watching him through his peripheral. he nods at choso, “what’s up?”

choso, ever the genius, flicks his eyes between geto and you, before clearing his throat, “shoko just texted— somethin’ about a new client. how’s the studio looking?”

“booked all week,” geto answers truthfully, and he notices you’ve shifted your gaze, “little to no openings. why though?”

choso hums, jolting down online orders into a little notebook, “not even for a special friend?”

geto squints his eyes at that. there isn’t anybody he’d call a special friend that hasn’t already been booked or wouldn’t have his number to squeeze in an appointment. granted, he is a dnd warrior but even his friends know of that quirk of his, “depends. who’s the special friend?”

“me.” and he feels his heart skip a beat. fuck. he tilts his head over to the side, and good lord, your face card gave every girl on campus runs for their money. seriously, your facial features complimented you in a way that told aphrodite— the textbook definition of beauty— to go fuck herself, and hard.

“oh?” geto cocks a brow, and lets his eyes roam up and down your frame. shameless, yes, but he has a reputation to uphold. your rest in face makes his own look like child’s play, “didn’t realize we were on special friends basis.”

you click your tongue, “didn’t realize we were on lurking spam accounts but pretend we don’t exist the next day basis either,” you quip right back, picking at the white bow glued to your acrylics.

sassy. geto chuckles, now fully turning his body around to face you. you match his movements, and he toys with a ring on his middle finger, “guess you got me all figured out,” he pauses, shifting his gaze to choso, who’s already eyeing him. “sounds like you wanted me to reach out.”

“boy please,” you scoff, pausing your nail inspection. you let your hand hang, “you choked earlier because you heard my name. that corny nonchalant act isn’t the flex you’re thinking it is,” a huff escapes your lips, and geto feels blood rushing to his face. “your lurking ass was months deep into my page just a week ago— did you find any men ain’t shit vibes from the photo dump?”

choso stifles a laugh, and when geto looks at him, it dies into a cough. well damn, you really didn’t hold anything back. read him like a book actually— and it doesn’t help that gojo can’t keep his mouth shut for shit. it widens the grin on his face. he thinks he likes you.

“well,” geto smirks, “can’t say i have— means there’s still an opening.”

you furrow your brows, “oh? an opening to what exactly?”

“an appointment, of course,” he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. his locks are getting in his face, but the messy look always gets him compliments. might as well shoot his shot, “you know. . .” leaning his chin into the palm of his hand, “for a special friend.”

his double entendre definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by you. he watches how, despite the mean mugging, there’s a glint of mischief in your eyes. you’re squinting just slightly, almost as if you were weighing out the pros and cons. geto won’t break the eye contact first— he’s on a mission. he hopes the tired eyes look will be on his side this time.

tattoo or dick appointment— he would one hundred percent make an opening for you. anything to get his hands on your body.

“are we still talking about the tattoo parlour or . . .”

both you and he turn to choso, who’s watching the situation unfold. just count on him to ruin the mood, whether the obliviousness was feigned or not. choso tightens his brows at the look geto shoots him, “what?”

“i’m gonna head out,” you grab at your handbag, hopping of the seat. nicely played choso. you gather your items and slip them in your purse, sliding a few bucks across the counter. choso grabs the bills and stick them in the tip jar, nodding at her. “catch you in poly sci?”

“if you don’t skip again.” choso snorts and you flip him off, slinging your bag over your shoulder. you turn on your heel and make your way towards the exit, ultimately dismissing geto. that doesn’t feel too nice, he should probably stop that bad habit.

he rises to his feet before he can help it. his hand grabs at your wrist and notices how much smaller it seems in comparaison to his, and he hates the next words that leave his mouth, “what about me?”

you glance down at his hold on you, before looking back up at him, “what about you?” your face says everything your lips haven’t— you’re getting the ick.

he wants to wince. okay, yeah that was corny, “when do i get to see you?”

you drag out a mini hum, your gaze dancing over his silver chain around his collarbone, “dunno. you have my socials so i assume in the next hour.”

he tilts his head to the side, and the pad of his thumb grazes over your smooth skin. he doesn’t fail to notice the way your hand stiffens under his touch, “so if i slide in your dms in the next hour, i can expect an answer?”

a snort leaves your chest, and he can’t tell if it’s a condescending one or an amused one. what he does know, however, is that he’s going to be seeing you sometime soon. you take your hand back into your possession before laying it in the dead centre of his chest, pushing him back just slightly, “i’ll see you around, geto.”

his eyes trail over your figure, every step you take out of the establishment, slightly starstruck by the entirety of you— your boldness. the thrill he was beginning to feel felt like a high. he hasn’t met anybody this entertaining in a while.

“you’re so fucking corny.” he thinks he hears choso insult him from behind. he doesn’t pay him any mind, despite the middle finger that tips towards the ceiling. partynextdoor blasts in the cafe, specifically freak in you, and he hates how he finds himself relating to the lyrics,

room full of beautiful women but he only wants one.

☆ ☆ ☆

“you stalking me, pretty?”

“sure,” you nod your head, raking through the items on the clothing rack. you don’t spare him a single glance, picking a top off the rack and inspecting it, “if stalking means visiting the busiest thrift store on the busiest hour in the busiest city.”

geto lets out a small laugh, shoving his hands in the pockets of his cargos. you make him feel like a nuisance, like he’s a pest wasting your time. ironic, seeing as he wasn’t that much of a bother just last night, when you’d been indulging him in your inbox, “of course you’re the thrifting type.”

you pause your actions, price tag in your fingers as you side eye him through locks of your hair, “and you’re not?”

“didn’t mean it in a bad way, sweetheart.” geto shrugs, pulling off a cropped baby tee and bringing towards you. it has sequins sewn in the material, the gems writing out juicy couture. “this would suit you— belly piercing and whatnot.”

the top is cute, there was no denying so. a pretty shade of pink that suited your complexion, but letting his ego inflate bigger than it already was out of the question. he could tell your thought process from the judgmental look you offered, “oh god—you’re one of those fake ass, streetwearing fashionistas, aren’t you?”

geto blinks a few times, before letting out a sincere laugh. he’s been called a multitude of things before, but that one was new, “you got all that from me suggesting you buy this juicy couture tee? don’t all girls fiend over this vintage shit?”

“it’s that corny ass personality of yours,” you grab the shirt, throwing it in your cart. he wants to make a comment on that, but you beat him to the chase, “the phoney nonchalant act, the streetwear, your insta aesthetic— you’re so scripted.”

“my insta aesthetic?” he repeats, and doesn’t miss a step to catch up to you. your hands are back on the handle of your shopping cart, and if the way his elbows bump into your shoulders bothers you, you don’t make point in commenting on it. “who’s the lurker now, hm?”

you roll your eyes, pushing the strolley ahead, “don’t let it get to your big ass head. your feed screams you’re those toxic ass brent faiyaz wannabes,” he watches your fingertips rake through more clothings that pass your way, before you shoot him a glance, “let me guess— he showed on your spotify wrapped.”

his silence speaks volumes, and you click your tongue, “see? scripted.”

“and what about you?” geto counters when you make a pit stop. you pull away from your cart when a denim skirt catches your eye. you lift the skirt up to your eyes, before looking over your shoulder, cocking a brow.

“what about me?”

“the tweet reposts, the song choices for your highlights, the whole spiritual baddie persona,” he presses behind you, his chest meeting your back. he rests his chin atop your head, purple eyes landing on the clothing article that’s lowering in your hold, “if my page gives brent then yours definitely gives jhene.”

you’re mute for a second, and you chuck the skirt into the cart. you pull away from beneath him, spinning on your feet to face him, and you’ve got a scowl on your lips, “what’s wrong with jhene?”

“and you call me the toxic one.” geto pokes at your cheek. you swipe his hand away, and he laughs, “don’t get me wrong though— she makes good music. but let’s not act like she’s all innocent either,” his gaze lowers to your glossy lips, the fullness of the pair hypnotic, “a real freak. should i call you my pussy fairy?”

“do not,” you reply, weaving around him to make your way back to your cart. geto laughs, snatching a few things of the racks before dumping them in your stuff. you give him a deadpanned look and he whistles it off, feigning ignorance. “jhene’s a lovergirl. thought i was part of the men ain’t shit community.”

“you’re not gonna let that go, are you?” geto sighs. he owes gojo another thump in the head.

you roll your eyes, “thank your homeboy for that.”

“two things can be true at once,” geto fiddles with the hem of his jacket. he’s back at walking step by step with you, and you haven’t told him to fuck off yet, so he’s going to milk the opportunity out. “you’re mean but a lovergirl. you hate men but a real freak with them. right or wrong?”

you halter in your steps, and geto’s now a few steps ahead of you, so he looks over his shoulder to meet your bored expression, “i know you’re not trying to read me in the middle of value village.”

“no better time than the present,” he smiles, one that creases a dimple in his cheeks. “come on up— what are you waiting for?”

you stare at him some more, inhaling sharply, “mind you, i never invited you to join me,” you shake your head but comply regardless. cute, looks like you’re enjoying his company more than you’re letting on.

so he graces you his presence some more. he shops along with you, sneaks clothes into your cart when you’re distracted and asks you stupid questions. it’s a good time— to him at least, being able to get to know you some more without interruptions. naturally, you feign that his company is the bane of your existence, but he doesn’t miss the twitch of your lips when he taps his card into the reader at the check out.

hell yeah he’s got money to spend and is willing to show off if it means getting on your good side.

it’s only after he helps you bag your shit into your car, that he realizes this is where the both of you part ways. it annoys him slightly, but he doesn’t need to overstep his boundaries. he closes your trunk and makes his way to the driver’s side, where you’re already buckled up.

he taps at your window and the glass rolls down all the way, to which he leans forward. he’s in your line of sight now and you sigh, tilting your head sideways, “what?”

“do i get a goodbye kiss?” geto teases, honest, the boyish smirk he offers accentuating the playful undertone. the last thing he expects is you shifting in your seat, pushing yourself up and peaking your head out the window.

his smirk drops, brows jumping to his hairline. you’re really fucking close now, and for a split second he thinks you’re actually going to do it. he can see the flecks of colours swimming in your orbs, the tip of your nose bumps into his and your breath fans his cupid’s bow.

fuck, you smell really good. he bets you taste even better. his mouth is running dry, mindlessly darting his tongue out to wet his own lips. he doesn’t realize he’s let himself lean into your space, eyes narrowing on your mouth parting over his.

he’s pulled out of his trance when two fingers press at his forehead and push. he blinks his lashes, snapping back to reality as you sit back into your seat. you look amused— as if you’d played the funniest game right in his face and he’d been the star player.

“i’ll see you around, geto.”

and you drive off.

☆ ☆ ☆

“come back in a few weeks for a checkup. we’ll make sure the healing process is running smoothly. i’ll catch you soon.”

he lets out a tired sigh when the door finally closes, slumping into his seat and shuts his eyes. he’s exhausted— having woken up early for lectures and labs to back to back appointments with clients. this time around, the parlour is always booked and busy. students find it the perfect timing to get tatted to let it heal before showing it off in the summer.

it’s smart for them but idiotic for him. midterms are up, and the only time he has to study is in between appointments. he slides off his gloves and drags his seat towards his desk, redirecting his attention focus towards the blinding screen.

he feels a headache building at his temple, sipping at his iced coffee to keep him energized. contradicting, sure, but you didn’t have the luxury to be a beggar and a chooser when you were a full time student. the parlour he ran resided in his loft apartment, on the second floor. he enjoyed the comfort of his own home, spacious room and wide windows compared to outside stores.

his cat, nanako, purrs at his feet and he feels his heart swell. if there was one weakness he had in this world, it’d be her. he picks her up from the floor, presses her at his rib cage and nuzzles his nose in her fur.

“hi baby,” geto coos, and nanako lets out a sound. he continues to coddle her, fluffing her fur and rubbing at her ears, “it’s been pretty lively in here, hasn’t it? i knowww,” he coos, and as if nanako understands his words, she makes a pitiful sound that slightly shatters his heart.

geto decides to place her on his lap, her company serving plenty of motivation as he rolls back to his desk. he grabs the remote to his built-in speakers, turning the volume higher, before locking back in. exams are full of crap, and words are starting to jumble on his screen— he’s beginning to contemplate if this education shit is even worth the stress.

he’s an hour deep in jolting notes down on his ipad when he hears a knock at his front door. he scrunches his brows and glances at his agenda— he isn’t due for an appointment until another few hours. he sits it out, starting to believe he’d maybe imagined the sound. he knows it isn’t gojo since he’s celebrating an anniversary with his girl, and any other friend would’ve called to let him know they’re outside.

probably some jehovah witness shit, he thinks to himself, fingers hovering over his speaker remote to crank the volume back up. he turns back to his laptop screen, petting nanako mindlessly when his ipad flashes an instagram notification.

yourstruly.yn: open up

he jumps to his feet, chair rolling back. nanako flies to his desk, landing on all fours as she hisses at him for his suddenness. geto grabs her and kisses her ear, “sorry baby,” before sitting her on the floor. she walks off to her mini bean bag right at the foot of his desk, and he senses an attitude coming from her.

damn, he’d forgotten he squeezed you in last night in the midst of his sweet talking. that was truly a stupid move, he was already behind on studying, and because he likes to think with his head instead of his actual head, he’d fall even further behind.

he checks around the flat— picks up stray wrappers and fixes throw pillows, arranges his sheets. he was a clean man for the most part— he had been so distracted with his studies that there wasn’t much to dirty in the first place. his candles had already been lit so he knew the place smelled fine. he’s pretty positive his loft is clean enough to leave a good first impression.

he fixes loose hairs and straightens out his hoodie and sweats. thank fuck he’d showered not too long ago— he’s beginning to understand why his mother was always so insistent on being clean in case of random pop ups.

when he does finally open the door, there you stood. it was pretty chilly outside this time around, so he wasn’t surprised by the harsh wind flowing in and the clutch of your coat in your hold. your nose began reddening, and you sniffled, scowling from the cold.

you’re so cute, he sends you a smile, “hey.”

“hi,” you replied, sniffling again. “you ever planning on letting me in?”

“dunno,” he crosses his arms over his chest. he leans against the doorframe, ignoring the way he was starting to feel the frosty wind setting in his bones, “maybe if you ask nicely.”

you shoot him a deadpanned look, “move.”

“no.” geto smiles, “try again.”

“move, now.” a small pout is starting to form on your lips. he really liked testing your patience, since it always seemed to run low. you must’ve met your match— because geto always had time to fuck around.

“close, but not quite.”

“oh my goddd,” you groan, and that’s when he decides to let up. it really is colder than a bitch outside and he’d already kept you waiting while tidying up. he lets out a chuckle when you turn to the side, “i’m leaving— too damn cold for this.”

“alright, i’m playing,” geto widens the door. you stop your movements and glare at him. he aims an arm towards the inside of his loft, “don’t go, come in.”

you grumble something beneath your breath but comply, walking right past him. he follows behind you, shutting the door close and is immediately greeted back with warmth. you slip your shoes off and place them on the rack, before stepping in further into his apartment.

he slides his hands into his sweatpants’ pockets, catching up to you in the living room. your head is tilted upwards as you inspect the place though you remain in place. he stands beside you, bumping his shoulder into your arm, “so? up to your standards?”

you’re quiet for a while, letting your eyes roam around as the words build in your mind, “it’s typical,” you shrug but don’t elaborate. you’ve been staring at an art piece he’d done first year when he was fried out of his mind. you shift your gaze back to him, “where do i put my shit?”

“you can leave it in my bedroom, if that’s fine.” geto suggests and you nod wordlessly, to which he leads you to the second floor. he’s walking up the stairs and prays he doesn’t fall flat on his face— his socks can be a real bitch sometimes.

you both make it to his bedroom, with you trailing a little behind. he grabs a hanger from his mobile clothing rack, stretching an arm out to you, “i’ll hang your jacket here.”

you slide off the coat from your frame and hand it to him, to which he hangs on the rack. you circle around his bedroom with your tote on your shoulder, while he makes his way back to next to his desk. it’s pretty quiet for the most part, besides the music playing gently in the background.

your gaze lands on the cluttered items on his desk, noticing the half empty cup of coffee, notebooks and ipad on display, “did i catch you at a bad time?”

“honestly? yeah,” geto shrugs, before motioning at your tote bag. you slip it off and hand it to him, to which he sits at his nightstand, “but it’s my fault anyway, i squeezed you in a busy time. you know how exam season gets.”

“i can always reschedule,” you offer, checking your phone screen for the date, “it’s not that deep.”

“i don’t want you to leave,” geto slumps back into his seat and heaves out a sigh. he spins the chair around to catch you giving him a flat look. he leans back in his seat and spreads his thighs, smirking, “would you stay?”

“depends. are you going to be studying?” you quip, crossing your arms back to your chest.

geto ponders on what to say next. it’s not like he doesn’t want to tatt you up, but he really is caught in a bind. he also doesn’t want you to leave— not when he’s been wanting to see you since the last time he’d seen you. does he prioritize his wants or his needs?

he hums, “i’ll do whatever you want me to.”

you roll your eyes, scoffing as you make your way to his nightstand. for a second, he thinks you’re getting ready to leave and a weird feeling of disappointment settles in his gut. instead, you grab the bag and sit on the edge of his bed, pulling out your macbook and crossing your legs.

he smiles at that, “attagirl.”

“corny.” you mumble, chewing on your bottom lip as you begin typing away.

there’s a comfortable silence that fills the room. he’s back to browsing through his lecture notes, noting down valuable information and memorizing terminology. you don’t say anything either, but the sound of your nails typing at your keyboard blends well with his r&b playlist playing. sounds like you’re writing down an essay or report, depending on whatever your major is.

about half an hour into the silence, does he decide to break it. he looks over his shoulder to where you’re settled on his bed, “you good?” he checks up on you, and you let out a burnt out sigh. he knows exactly how you’re feeling.

“i guess,” you huff, twirling your necklace. your eyes are stuck on your screen, brows creasing into a scowl, “this shit is frying my brain though.”

“what are you writing?” he indulges, dropping his apple pen back onto his desk and spins in his seat to face you. maybe he’s also in due of a break— he’d rather be talking to you anyway.

“this crim report,” you answer, picking at your nail, “it’s not exactly hard but mad lengthy. i have to write a ten page report based on this article and how it contradicts societal norms.”

“ten pages?” geto whistles, rubbing at his chin. he’s settled deeper in his seat, naturally manspreading. you’re much better than him, he would’ve given up before even starting— reports were not his thing, “how far are you in?”

“i started this morning,” you hum, “so i’m four pages in.”

geto nods, “and when is it due?”

“tomorrow night.” you push your laptop off your lap. you close the screen shut and stretch out your legs, releasing a breathy moan as you relax your thighs. “i’ll do this shit later— my head’s starting to hurt.”

geto swears he’s never been so in sync in thought. he dismisses the idea of studying the second you had closed your macbook. probably a bad idea but at the moment, he couldn’t care any less, “want some entertainment?”

you cock a brow, “don’t say no stupid shit.”

“twenty one questions,” geto speaks nonetheless and finds himself beaming brightly when you scoff, “can’t a guy want to get to know you better?”

you ease yourself on his bed, slumping into his sheets as you exhale. you shift onto your side— a sinful curve at your side— tucking your knees and lean your head into your palm, “oh fuck off,” a breathless laugh and nanako makes her presence known, hopping right by you in the space between your body and the edge of the bed, “didn’t know you had a cat. she’s cute.”

“how’d you know she was a she?” geto wonders, surprised just slightly by how welcoming nanako was around you. she purred when you stroke at her fur, nuzzling further into your chest. nanako hated everyone— especially gojo, who unironically visited the most.

“instinct,” you shrugged but there’s a faint smile on your lips. not directed towards him, but his baby, “i also have a cat— he’s a fucking menace though.”

that’s one thing in common already, “like mother like son,” geto grins lazily when you flip him off mindlessly, and when you raise nanako in both your hands, he’s ready to warn you she isn’t a big fan of sudden movements— but when she mewls, the same sound she makes when geto brings home a new toy, the words die down in his throat.

he observes you both silently. you cradle nana as if she were a newborn infant, adoring and loving yet simultaneously careful and steadily. you’re cooing, calling her a sweet girl and rubbing at her ear, and nanako accepts you rather easily— too easily.

“woah.” was this those non-sexual turn ons people spoke about? for somebody so mean, you were oddly gentle with pets. he liked that— really liked that, so much that he pulls his phone out and snaps a photo of you two. but of course, because the universe loves to see him fumble, the flash goes off.

your head snaps to the side and he freezes. you narrow your eyes at him, slowly lowering nanako, “did you just—”

“so!” geto cuts you off, chucking his phone back onto his desk. it makes a loud cluttering sound, damn near knocks his drink all over, but ignores it, “my turn. what’s your cat’s name?”

“milo. and don’t cut me off—”

“milo the menace,” he cuts you off regardless, not wanting to have to decipher just what exactly possessed him to do that. he’s never done so, and he wasn’t about to explain why he’d done it just now. deflecting king! “i need to see the little guy. got any pics?”

you huff, extending a hand behind you to find your phone. when you clutch onto the device, you swing your legs off the bedside, always careful with nanako clinging to your lap. you lay her down on the floor, much to her dismay, before making your way towards him.

his eyes are stuck on your body before his mind can tell him to stop. not like it mattered much, your own eyes glued to your phone screen as you searched for the pictures he’d asked. you’ve got a matching tracksuit on— though the hoodie is cropped, thus exposing your navel piercing. he’d always had a thing for those, the pretty good jewel dangling below the button.

it didn’t help that your thong straps sat atop your waist.

he spreads his legs further open, and you stop right in between. for a moment, you’re stuck on your phone, and geto really wants to get those thighs straddling him. you look delectable— he’d pin your knees to your damn ears, sprawled on your back, and eat you out until you pleaded him to stop.

your hair was pulled back into a bun, and from this angle, he spotted scripture at the column of your neck. there was wording inked in arabic, and he made a mental note to ask you what it meant later.

geto leans back into his seat when you fold forwards, and he gets a good whiff of your vanilla scented perfume, tingling his senses in the best way, “found it?”

you nod your head, swiping through your gallery, “yeah, my bad,” you have a folder named ‘mimi’ and as expected, was filled off candid photos of your cat. he pays attention as you slide your finger on your screen, selfies of you both in the morning passing by.

“cute,” he isn’t talking about the cat, and his gaze flicks from the screen to your face. there’s still a considerate amount of space between you both, but he can see your eye colour much clearer this close up. you blink your lashes at him and he smirks, “anything else you wanna show me?”

you sniff, “don’t be gross.”

“i meant of milo,” geto definitely didn’t mean of milo. you cock a brow skeptically, and he mirrors the look, though the smile on his face grows, “what a cute lil thing,” his voice lowers and his words trail off. there’s a beat of a pause for a while, and his gaze falls on the plumpness of your lips, “you gonna let me pet your kitty?”

another beat of silence. you’re staring at his lips, and he wonders what you’re thinking. he can tell you’ve picked up on what he’s laying down (hopefully you in the next few minutes) but he can’t tell what your next move will be.

“depends. . .” a soft whisper, and he feels your breath fanning over his cupid’s bow. you flick your eyes back at him, and he finally understands the whole siren eyes shit. through lidded eyes, your stare is intense— simultaneously pulling him in closer while pushing him back. you’re toying with him, and the hand he slides up from your thigh to your ass is enough fuel. “you any good?”

he brings a second hand to the other ass cheek, and urges you onto his lap. you comply, looping your arms at the back of his neck. he feels your nails grazing at his scalp and he holds back a lethal shudder. your weight feels amazing against him— his hard on poking and making its presence well aware.

“i’d like to think i am,” he knows he is, but playing humble always goes a long way. he lets his hands run over the cup of your ass, trails back up to your hips, and slides a finger beneath the thong strap. when he snaps the material at your skin, your back arches and you press your chest against his own.

“well,” you exhale when he noses into the crook of your neck, right above your tattoo. he’s littering wet kisses at your hot skin, your taste ever so sweet against his tongue. god, you must taste divine. at your jugular, he’s able to imprint your perfume into his mind. “only one way to find out.”

geto hums at that, relishing in the way you moan at a particular suck, and focus on nibbling at that spot once more. you’re tilting your head for easier access, hips grinding against his own for better friction. your hands are soft and cautious— they trail from his nape down to his chest, and further down to his waistband.

he’s on go, ready for whatever timing you’re on. though, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out by the way your fingertip traces right above his pelvis, that you’re both on the same page. he drags his lips from the column of your neck up to your jaw, and stops right above your parted lips.

he has another cocky remark on the tip of his tongue, in typical suguru fashion, but you beat him to the chase, glossy lips pressing against his. the kiss is short and definitely leaves him wanting more when you pull back as soon as you’d leaned in— but you’re a mere centimetre away.

you whisper, not before another kiss, “don’t disappoint me, suguru.”

and he’s never ran into bed so fast.

☆ ☆ ☆

the door slams shut.

he’s left with a painfully hard reminder in his sweats that he fucked up bad. he thinks he dissociated a little between the labia flapping to the coat zipping. it’s only when he notices that instead of hearing lip smacking sounds, he hears bryson tiller’s lame ass (no shade, his ego is simply wounded), that you really left.

fuck.

geto rushes back to his bedroom, the walk of shame up the steps enough to make him want to jump off— as he takes out his phone, immediately goes through his contact list and presses on the name. it rings twice before the call gets picked up.

“yooo!”

“you still busy?” geto asks, voice hoarse as he flops down on the edge of the bed— his now empty bed. damn.

“nah, just dropped off wifey,” gojo replies. he hears music playing faintly in the back, as well as the sounds of honking. he must still be in the car, “why, what’s up?”

“i fucked up.” geto sighs, running a hand over his face.

“oh?” he isn’t surprised to find out gojo’s surprised. he’s still surprised by how the events turned out and it’s barely been ten minutes, let alone five. “say no more, i’m on my way.”

geto hangs up. he throws the phone away, before falling flat onto his bed. he picks up your scent on his sheets, your warmth slowly disappearing— another painful reminder he messed up. where he’s expecting a wet patch of anything on his duvets, he finds nothing. zip. nada.

his eyes fall shut, “shit.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“and that’s pretty much the gist of it all.”

he exhales a cloud of smoke. more silence. geto’s starting to get sick of all this silence. it was radio silence with you and now even more radio silence from gojo. his hand never stops to rub at nanako, who’s been serving as a cuddling partner in this grand moment of crisis. the only person to ever have his back.

so, geto knew that confiding in his best friend this secret of his would be risky for a multitude of reasons. for starters, geto never fucks up. this would be ultimate blackmail content for him, and geto honestly doesn’t blame him. for two, he was just giving gojo shit about never having eaten pussy. that’s just downright humiliating. and for three, he has a girlfriend who he doesn’t keep anything from. on top of that— his girlfriend is friends with the main culprit here.

overall a bad idea. he does it nonetheless, because satoru is his best friend despite it all. he isn’t too shocked when the silence is filled with bellyaching laughter, though.

“wait— i’m cryinggg,” more laughter. gojo’s now kicked his feet off the couch and is doubling forward. his shades bounce off his head and hit the leg of the coffee table. he doesn’t pause his laughing fit one bit, not even when geto throws a throw pillow his way.

it bounces off his big head and geto scoffs, bringing the joint back to his lips, “oh fuck off.”

“my fault man,” gojo apologizes though he doesn’t sound apologetic. he’s leaning forward to grab his shades back, and he’s back to swiping stray tears. “that was a good laugh— shit.”

geto hums at that, extending the blunt towards him,“glad to hear my misery has brought you entertainment.”

“see, you get it!” gojo jokes, welcoming the joint. seems like he got cocky, however, his laughing mood not quite over as he inhales. he quickly chokes on the smoke, which fades back into cackling, “oh shit—”

geto sneers, annoyance quickly rising, “quit fucking around or pass it back.” he was being pissy, yes, but his pride had been curb stomped. and it hadn’t even been an hour ago!

“nah, nah, i’m good,” gojo waves him off, despite his free hand tapping at his chest. he collects himself soon enough, and takes another hit. this time it’s successful. geto lowkey hoped it would get caught in his throat again.

“sooo,” gojo drags out, melting into the couch, “what now.”

“what now?” geto parrots.

“what’s the next move?” gojo elaborates, fingertip tapping at the blunt, and ashes fall into the tray. the end of the stick crumbles in the same way geto’s ego had earlier. “you’re gonna keep letting her think you suck at giving head?”

geto throws his head back and sighs tiredly, “what else is there to do?” he hears the sound of sizzling in the background, “i fumbled bad, bro. you don’t think she already posted about me in her girls’ private story?” more sizzling and exhaling, “i’m the storytime of the day!”

he feels gojo nudge his thigh with his foot. he looks back and the joint is presented to him. he gladly accepts it.

“what even happened?” gojo wonders. and oh boy, if that isn’t the question of the day. geto is still trying to find the answer to that. had it been out of nervousness? had he gotten too cocky? had it been her?

“i honestly wish i could answer that,” geto slips the roach into his mouth. “i didn’t feel nervous until after i realized she wasn’t fazed,” he drags out a hit and ghost inhales, “maybe it was a sign from above— to shut the fuck up sometimes.”

“maybe,” gojo snorts, throwing his legs over geto’s lap. nanako hisses at the intrusion, but the white haired man ignores her, “don’t let yourself go out sad like this. hit her back up— whatever happened to loving challenges?”

“what kind of fucked up ass challenge is this?” geto mumbles, mainly to himself.

“if i was in your shoes— which i’d never be,” because he’s gojo, he feels the need to add, “i’d put my pride aside and talk to her. like no homo shit, but you’re a great eater— yeah, no, i’m taking that back instantly.”

geto looks as horrified as he feels, “quickly, even.”

of course, gojo laughs but proceeds, “the point is, you know you’re good at it. everybody fucks up once in a while— don’t let it define you though. think of it as a minor setback for a major comeback— if you care enough, you’ll put your pride aside and do something about it. if you’re this down about it, then it must mean something to you.”

geto can’t tell anymore whether gojo’s talking about the failed pussy eating attempt or you. regardless, he knows there’s truth to his words. has to be the weed talking.

“and who made you the pussy connoisseur?” geto snorts, pressing the bud of his joint in the tray. it sizzles weakly as he kills it, starting to feel that high course through his veins.

gojo sighs dreamily, “why my lovely lady, of course.”

“looks like she taught you well,” geto relaxes himself into the tight space of the couch, settling nanako on his chest. it’s now his turn to nudge gojo with his foot, his sock-cladded toe digging at his jaw. “woulda never expected this from a rookie just a few months ago.”

“well duh,” gojo swipes his foot away, “i aced that course. got my phD in cunningulusophy and all. even won valedictorian.”

geto laughs, resting his lids. he was starting to feel sleepy, indica will do that to you, “enroll me in whatever class you took— i may need to slut myself out for extra credit. my prof’s a tough nut to bust.”

“intro to munch 101,” gojo nods his head, shutting his eyes close as well. there’s a comfortable silence that fills the air for a while. and despite the fact that his sight manipulated, he could hear the smirk dripping off his tone, “if you ever need a letter of recommendation, i got you— alumni’s honour.”

“oh fuck off,” a mixed harmony of laughter and vibrating chests.

☆ ☆ ☆

fun fact: suguru geto loves showers.

the aroma of cleanliness enhanced by thick fog. the scorching water droplets trickling down his skin, the vulnerability of his nakedness inside these four walls. he strangely feels most at ease, most raw in this moment of solitude.

he’s able to gather himself too. there isn’t much to accomplish in a shower once you’ve gotten rid of the day’s dirt. so, he likes to take the opportunity to think. to think deep and hard.

his mind’s all scrambled up. it’s been about three days since you were last in his apartment, two days since he’d thought about it, and a day since he last seen you (granted it’d been on your story, virtually, but still).

this has been the biggest feat he’s faced in a while. if he recaps it, this is what’s he gotten: he invited you over. you came the next day. he didn’t cater to you the sole reason you came. you didn’t mind. you both studied for a bit. he asked about your cat. you ended up on his lap. he ended up in bed with you. you ended up leaving with a chunk of his dignity.

that didn’t explain shit, but it did remind him of his failure. it reminded him that he’d finally met his match. it reminded him he needs to start backing his shit up. it reminded him of how good you smelled and tasted down there. it reminded him of how pretty you looked.

his cock twitches and he glances down. it also reminds him he never ended up cumming, too engrossed in his anxiety to jerk one out.

he feels as though the glass doors of his shower protect him from reality. he’s hard, though mortified, but still hard. he’d spent a long time (two days) suppressing the memory away, but there was no way to mistaken your taste on his tongue. how sweet you smelled. how soft you felt—

geto fists at his dick before he can help it. his free hand plants at the wall before him, and he works his wrist. he twists at his shaft slowly and closes his eyes— behind his lids are photographic memories of you on his lap. memories of you on his bed. memories of the scent of your panties. memories of your tits in his mouth.

sure, you’d made more sounds off the foreplay for the foreplay— but that didn’t take away how turned on he’d been. how his dick twitched in his boxers. how he’d humped the mattress. how he’d moan in your cunt.

“y/n,” geto moans your name, sinful yet hushed, his hand working faster. his thumb grazes his over slit and his gut drowns in heat. he wants a redo. he deserves a redo— you deserved a redo. “fuckkkk,”

next time, he’ll get it right. and if he doesn’t, then he’ll want to try again and again and again— until it ends with your cunt clenching around his tongue and his face sprayed vigorously in your essence. until your thighs tremble around his face, your hand clawing at his hair and your back arched off his bed. until his name bounces off his walls and echoes so loudly his neighbours complain.

he wants a redo.

he jerks back as he paints the tiles white. the joints in his hand ache, the water from the shower head getting colder. geto pants heavily, chest heaving as his load is released from him. his cum drips from the wall and into the drain at his feet— but his dick is far from well spent. if he spends another hour in the shower, it’s nobody’s business but his own.

suguru geto loves showers.

☆ ☆ ☆

“oh. you actually showed.”

“redo,” geto pants, having sprinted from his apartment. he’d spent the next three days after his shower incident wallowing some more— at some point, it just annoyed him. though slightly underwhelming, he was on his phone in bed a few minutes ago, going through his camera roll when he’d seen that picture he took of you and nanako. his feet guided him to his car before he could help it. choso helped him out with the address.

“redo?” you parrot his words, leaning against your doorframe. you crossed your arms over your chest, and it’s only then he noticed your appearance— flimsy camisole and pink lace panties. fuck, he wants a redo now.

“i want a redo.” geto repeats, but is quickly hit with a gust of wind. he hadn’t brought a jacket with him in the midst of his impulse, and goosebumps were beginning to form at his skin. he shoots his shot, “you ever planning on letting me in?” talk about deja vu.

“dunno,” you play along, eyes narrowing. “maybe if you ask nicely.”

swallow your pride, he hears gojo somewhere in the back of his mind. he shakes that thought off quickly. this desperation had to be bigger than a pride issue— he was ready to get on his knees and beg her to let him in. pride? that had been drained to the sewers the second he busted all over his shower days ago.

“lemme in and i’ll make it up to you,” geto tries instead, taking a step closer, “please?”

that seemed to be the correct answer as you push open the door to your apartment further. you turn your back and geto lets himself drink up your backside— he hadn’t seen it last time but you had dimples sitting right above your perky ass. he watches your hips sway left and right, and even tilt your head back, a smirk etched on your face, “you comin’?”

you will be, “cute.” his lips twitch into a small smile, and closes the door behind him.

☆ ☆ ☆

fool him once? shame on him.

geto doesn’t allow himself to make the same mistakes twice. if one fuck up is enough to tear him down for a week straight then why the hell would he do it again?

you’re sprawled on your back, legs spread with enough space to fit his body in between. his hands plant on either side of your face, his bulge pushed up against your core. he feels your warmth through these layers of clothes, and he rolls his hips greedily, feeling himself already grow addicted. your chin is raised high, lids blown open as you stare at him all doe-eyed.

his brows pinch in the centre of his forehead. that faux look of innocence you’re offering is doing wonders to his dick. your tits sit beautifully beneath your top, arms back on him as you pull him in closer, and he lets himself fall prey to you. for a moment, the tip of his nose bumps into yours, lips ghosting over the other, hips colliding to meet yours.

“mhm, that’s it.” you let out a sigh, throwing your head back into your pillows. there’s an opening to your neck calling his name, and geto wastes no time to latch his lips there. he slips a hand beneath your tank top, fingernails grazing over your skin to creep up to your mounds. he flicks a thumb over the bud and you sigh blissfully again— he then cups the flesh.

he loves the way you squirm when he kisses down your body, “i got you, pretty,” stripped from your cami, his lips leave open mouthed marks all over your skin. from the column of your neck, to your breasts, down your torso and past your navel, “let me take care of you.” the lower he gets, the more intense your rawness reeks— and it’s a damned good smell.

he lands right above your clothed pelvis, and he inhales sharply. he won’t make the same mistake this time, he can feel it. there’s something lingering in the air, something indescribable— but he’s confident he won’t. because when he skips your cunt in favour to pamper your inner thighs, dragging his wet tongue all over erogenous zones, he spots dampening right where your clit would be.

bingo.

your hand cradles his hair, and the other props your body up by the elbow. he glances up at you, cock throbbing against your mattress. your beauty still renders him speechless— runs his throat dry and makes his tongue feel heavy. he doesn’t want to decipher what this means either, and decides to conclude he’s simply thirsty for you.

“suguru,” you call at him. he blinks and the hand in his hair snakes down his neck, and pushes him deeper. his nose nudges at your throbbing clit, and his tongue peeks out of his mouth to lick at the damp material before he can help it. two fingers hook at your panties and push them to the side, revealing glistening folds. your slick drips between your crack and stains your sheets. he thinks he hears his stomach growl a little.

another swipe of his tongue, this time in contact with the raw you, and a breathless moan rips from you, “don’t disappoint me this time.”

and he feasts.

☆ ☆ ☆

gojo’s woken up to a notification from his phone.

it’s still pretty late— or maybe early, and his pretty girlfriend is miles away in lalaland. she snores softly, cuddling into his side, and gojo’s ready to cuss out whoever dares potentially meddle with his girl’s sleep. he’s starting to get grumpy.

when his phone undergoes face recognition, he lowers the brightness immediately. he swipes through his notification center and notices an attachment sent by geto.

now that peeks his interest. he presses on the message.

suguboo: [1 attachment]

suguboo: passed intro2munch101 with an A+ 🫡

gojo can’t help the laugh that leaves him, though is quickly quieted down when he feels stirring at his side.

“well i’ll be damned.”

yes, gojo is obsessed with his girlfriend. also 10k words on geto???

#rena☆star.#geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #geto x you #geto suguru x you #jjk smut #jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto oneshot

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lover-of-mine · 2 days ago

Text

Okay, me and @buckgettingstruck have been going back and forth since yesterday and we have reached enlightenment about bucktommy, and I'm here to share. This isn't an anti post btw, this is us trying to make sense of the relationship in the context of the show.

But imagine you're Tommy. You’ve been closeted for most of your life and you recently came out (yeah, recently, six years is not that long). You left your fiance and decided to come out, but since then most of your relationships — friends and otherwise — have been shallow. For some reason, you don't know how to turn off the instinct to keep people at arm's length.

Suddenly you’re helping your old coworkers rescue your former captain and his wife, and in come Eddie and Buck.

You hit it off with Eddie. He’s very friendly and you have a lot in common, so you're hanging out with him and trying to get a feel for him. Maybe he’s into guys. Hanging out with him is fun, even if you still can’t find any actual reason to open up to him about your life. You go to fights, you practice Muay Thai, you play basketball. You have fun.

And then there’s his crazy ass best friend — Buck.

Buck is spinning out about the two of you hanging out for a few weeks for some reason. You kinda assume there’s something going on with him and Eddie and you try to apologize to the guy. Buck tells you that it's not because he’s jealous of Eddie, it’s because he wants your attention. It throws you for a loop (my attention? You two haven’t really talked since he asked for a tour around Harbor), but your interest is piqued. The guy is hot, and he’s cute in a rambly way so you decide to go for it and it works out in your favor. But in the back of your mind, you know that this dude has some very intense relationship going on with his best friend. You had to bring up Eddie’s kid to get him to warm up to you, after all. But for all you know Eddie is straight, and Buck says he wants your attention. You don’t want anything that serious — breaking off the first engagement was hard enough — and you don’t really have anything to lose by just seeing where this goes. You’ve only been out for six years, so you want to explore. Maybe this could be fun.

The first date is a bit of a trainwreck, and the dude turns out to be too intense. Somehow Eddie showed up with that girlfriend of his he’s never really talked about, and Buck is spinning out. You decide to cut your losses and go home — even if leaving Buck on the curb was a bit of a dick move. But Buck calls you a few days later. You meet for coffee. He tells you he doesn’t know what he wants, but he wants to try with you. He invites you to Chimney’s bachelor party and his wedding to Buck’s sister as a nice gesture and you figure, what the hell? Why not? Maybe it’s a little much, but he’s trying.

In your head, you're in a fun, casual relationship because you haven't had the conversation about it being serious. Since Buck doesn’t bring it up or ask you for very much at all, you believe he is on the same page. You keep him at arm’s length so it stays that way — when he talks about almost losing Bobby, the whole Gerrard mess. It’s subconscious, you think, but keep it light and surface level. You don't want something that deep, and he is following your lead. You maybe see each other once a week, considering you both work 24-hour shifts and have chaotic schedules. You go to dinner, you go to the movies, and maybe you make out a little. It's easy and it's fun, and you can stay that way as long as the Buck doesn't push you further. It’s been almost six months now, and beyond venting about Gerrard a few times, he hasn’t even nudged.

It’s a little weird, though, how Eddie’s always there. And you really like Eddie, honestly, but he’s constantly around. Sometimes it feels like you’re the third wheel here. He’s already there when you arrive for Chimney’s bachelor party, dressed in a suit to match Buck’s and helping set up. Suddenly a few months later you’re being invited to Chris’s Zoom birthday party, where Buck looks just as defeated taking the decorations down as the kid’s father. Buck dislocates his shoulder — you didn’t ask why, and he didn’t volunteer the information — and Eddie is there tucked into the guest chair with a magazine and the shitty hospital coffee, asking about Buck’s recovery and return to work. You do get to stay with him overnight, on his uncomfortable couch and falling asleep as he talks on and on about the corpse he accidentally rented (and alright, why did Buck get mad at him for laughing and not Eddie?). When Buck wakes up with boils the next day it’s not even a question for him to call Eddie. Eddie talks him down a lot better than you could, even if the situation is a bit ridiculous. You don’t miss the way he snaps at you for calling him gross — mentioning your cousin gets shingles is apparently a crime — while he tells Eddie to call his appearance what it is and he’ll believe it’s stress if he says so. But hey, getting boils kinda sucks, and Buck is having a rough go lately, so you move past it. But you don’t miss how Eddie seems to sense that Buck’s picking at his face without looking up from his phone when you’re at the hospital a couple days later because of Hen’s kid. You don’t miss how everyone else gets the good news that he’s going to make it through. Everyone except for you.

You kinda want what Buck has, if you’re being honest. He found a family at the 118, with really intense people on his six, and you’re hoping that when the relationship runs its course you can stay friends. Maybe you can still keep part of that. Maybe that’s still within reach, even if Buck won’t even show you the text everyone else got.

Buck goes from zero to a million after that, because he finds out he dated your ex-fiance and his next course of action is to thank you for gay rights and ask you to move in with him.

Up to this point, you thought you were on the same page — light, casual, fun. He didn’t push, but then he shoved you both off a bridge and now you can't ignore the thing that's been in the back of your mind for the last six months.

Honestly, you have no idea what’s going on with Eddie. The mustache is a choice, and he was doing some funny things with that ring pop back at the hospital, but for all you know, he’s a zero on the Kinsey scale. You know Buck has something going on beneath the surface with how he feels about Eddie, whether he realizes it or not. You knew there was an expiration date on this thing when you started, and you didn’t even mind. You kept it fun and light over the past six months. You kept your distance — maybe a bit too much, considering Abby never came up until now. You hoped maybe you’d get to keep some decent friends once Buck figured his shit out. You knew, even if you tried to ignore it. You tried to enjoy it while it lasted.

You tried to convince yourself it wasn’t there for a while. Buck, as far as he knew, still knew, was telling the truth. He wanted your attention, your time, you. He’s still figuring everything out, and you thought maybe you had more time. Keeping it casual and slow could only go so far, in the end.

Buck nudges once, pushes you to consider what it would be like to be in a relationship with him that's serious. He’s talking about living together and you’re panicking a little bit as a thousand scenarios run through your brain, but you can’t see an ending that's not him realizing he has feelings for someone else and leaving you. Another six months, a year, five years — it's all the same.

You didn’t want to get hurt in this situation, but you will be if you stay. You’ve already hurt people by denying the truth before.

So you tell him — I know how this ends.

You didn’t want to. You never really planned on ending it because you figured he would, but you reached the point where you can't come back. He wants more, and you know that would just end in smoke. Not for him, but for you.

So you have to break this guy’s heart. And you know if you break this guy’s heart, you’re going to become the villain. You lose the entrance to a family you wanted to be a part of. You lose the friendship you had with Eddie, who is just as goddamn weird and crazy about Buck as Buck is about him. You lose the potential friendship in Buck, in them both, in everyone. There’s only one way out of here now.

Buck’s somehow still endearing as you end things. You try to nudge him for once, talking about firsts and lasts. He doesn’t get it. You throw in some line a parking spot because the second reserved one Buck got with his loft went to Eddie years ago. You step into the hall, out of Eddie’s shadow, and walk away with nothing.

#why did we do this?#i dont know #me and alli cowriting tommy meta wasnt on my bingo card for the year but yay?#this is long #911 #911 meta

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carnalcrows · 12 hours ago

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LOLLIPOP - CHO SANGWOO

pairing: dad's best friend!cho sang-woo x trans male reader

synopsis: When your dad’s hot best friend crashes at your place for a week, things heat up faster than the broken AC—throw in drunken confessions, lollipops, and a whole lot of unresolved tension, and you’ve got a summer break you’ll never forget.

content warnings: 18+, reader definitely has an oral fixation, too much plot, mentions of a transphobic mother, (GI HUN IS READER'S DAD), age gap (reader is 19 and sang-woo is in his 40's), unprotected sex, P in V, back-scratching? fingering, lots of unspoken tension.

word count: - 4.3k

A/N: ty to @art-gang-money , their request was what made me go on a spiral w this fic 🙏🏼🫡

Summer in your dad’s apartment always smelled like kimchi stew and stale cigarettes, a combination you’d grown weirdly fond of since moving back in after you started uni. The ceiling fan wobbled as it turned, and the couch sagged just enough to remind you how old it was. You were sprawled out on it lazily sucking on a cranberry lollipop and scrolling through your phone, when your dad cleared his throat dramatically.

“You’ll never guess who’s coming over,” he said, leaning against the doorframe like he was delivering some kind of life-altering news.

“Let me guess,” you deadpanned. “The landlord? Because I think the AC’s about to give out.”

He waved you off, grinning. “No, you brat. Cho Sangwoo. You’ve heard me talk about him, right?”

Heard? More like endured. Sangwoo was the mythical figure your dad brought up at every family gathering, a symbol of everything Seong Gi-hun wanted you to be: successful, hardworking, and an SNU graduate. You’d rolled your eyes through countless retellings of his achievements, imagining some stiff, balding guy in glasses who probably spoke in lectures.

“Yeah, sure,” you muttered, not looking up.

“He’s staying here for a week,” your dad added, oblivious to your lack of enthusiasm. “He’s got a client nearby, and I told him he could crash here. You’ll like him. He’s... cool.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Cool? Coming from you, that doesn’t mean much.”

Your dad ignored the jab, already walking toward the door. “He should be here any minute!”

When the door opened a few minutes later, you barely glanced up—until you heard the deep, smooth voice that followed.

“Gi-hun,” the man said warmly, stepping inside. “It’s been too long.”

You looked up and your sucker almost fell out of your mouth.

This wasn’t the stiff, balding guy you’d imagined. Sangwoo was tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a suit that looked like it cost more than your dad’s entire wardrobe. His hair was styled just enough to look effortless, and the way he carried himself screamed confidence.

“Finally, you’re here!” your dad said, pulling him into a back-slapping hug. “Sangwoo, this is my son.”

“Nice to meet you kid,” Sangwoo said, extending a hand toward you.

You shook it, trying not to let your thoughts show on your face. His grip was firm, and his eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary.

“So you’re the famous Sangwoo,” you grinned, “Didn’t expect you to be so... old.”

Sangwoo raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Old?”

“Yeah,” you teased, leaning back against the couch. “Forty’s ancient.”

Your dad barked out a laugh. “Don’t mind him. He thinks anyone over twenty-five is ancient.”

Sangwoo didn’t reply, but the way his gaze lingered on you made your stomach twist.

After dinner, the hum of the evening settled over the apartment. Gi-hun had retreated to the couch, already half-asleep with the TV droning in the background. You had volunteered—reluctantly—to wash the dishes, partly out of guilt for eating so much and partly to avoid sitting awkwardly in the living room while Sangwoo and your dad chatted about old times.

The warm water ran over your hands as you scrubbed a plate, the faint scent of dish soap filling the air. You had just started to lose yourself in the monotony when you felt it—the faint shift of the air behind you.

“Need help?” Sangwoo’s voice came, low and smooth, almost too close.

You froze for a split second, your grip tightening on the plate. “Uh... I’ve got it,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out tighter than you’d hoped.

He didn’t seem to care—or maybe he didn’t believe you. Instead of leaving, he moved closer, his arm brushing against yours as he reached for the sponge in your hand.

“Don’t be stubborn,” he said, his tone light but with an edge of amusement.

Before you could protest, he had already slid the sponge from your fingers, his other hand gently nudging you to the side—not enough to move you completely, but just enough so he could stand behind you, his chest brushing your back.

The countertop pressed against your hips, trapping you between the solid wood and Sangwoo. You swallowed hard, your thoughts scattering like leaves in a gust of wind.

His scent hit you first—clean and sharp, a mix of soap and something faintly musky, like fresh cedarwood. He had clearly just stepped out of the shower; his hair was still damp, and the faint warmth of his skin radiated against you.

“Just rinse them,” he said, his voice a soft rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded dumbly, reaching for the faucet, but your hands felt clumsy, your fingers fumbling with the knobs. The sound of the water splashing into the sink seemed impossibly loud in the otherwise quiet kitchen.

Sangwoo leaned forward slightly, his arm stretching past you to grab another plate. The movement brought him even closer, his chest pressing more firmly against your back. You could feel the faint rise and fall of his breath, steady and unhurried, as if he weren’t fully aware of what he was doing—or maybe he was too aware.

“You’re tense,” he commented, his voice laced with amusement.

You let out a breathless laugh, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to be body-blocked while washing dishes.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your back. “You’re overthinking it. Just relax.”

Easier said than done, especially with him standing this close. Every time his arm brushed yours or his hand grazed yours as he passed a plate, it sent tiny jolts of electricity through you.

“You always make dishwashing this awkward?” you asked, your tone half-joking, half-desperate to diffuse the tension.

“Only when I’m working with someone as clumsy as you,” he shot back, his smirk practically audible.

You turned your head slightly to glare at him, but the motion brought your face dangerously close to his. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back to you, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

The air between you was heavy, charged with something unspoken but impossible to ignore. He was so close you could see the faint droplets of water still clinging to his hair, the curve of his mouth as he smiled faintly, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Well,” you managed to say, your voice quieter now, “if you’re going to take over, at least let me get out of your way.”

“Who said I wanted you to move?” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you thought you’d misheard him. But then he turned back to the sink, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he continued washing the dishes as if nothing had happened.

You stayed frozen in place, your mind racing and your pulse hammering in your ears. If this was some kind of game, Sangwoo was winning effortlessly.

On the third day of Sangwoo’s stay, your dad insisted on taking you both out for drinks, and Sangwoo agreed with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Gi-hun, unsurprisingly, got wasted. You and Sangwoo ended up practically dragging him back to The humid summer night hung heavy as you and Sangwoo maneuvered your dad through the narrow streets, Gi-hun stumbling slightly with every step. He reeked of soju and cheap beer, his arm slung around Sangwoo’s shoulder while you tried to steady him from the other side.

“He’s heavy for someone who barely eats,” you grumbled, adjusting your grip.

“He’s always been like this,” Sangwoo said, shaking his head. “Some things never change.”

“Y’know,” Gi-hun suddenly slurred, his voice unusually loud in the stillness of the night, “I never thought I’d be one of those dads.”

“Which kind?” you asked, bracing yourself for whatever drunken confession was about to follow.

“The good ones!” he proclaimed, nearly tripping over his own feet. Sangwoo caught him effortlessly, his expression unreadable as Gi-hun continued. “Your mom… she didn’t think so. Thought I was crazy for defending you.”

“Dad,” you muttered, feeling the familiar prick of discomfort settle in your chest. “Maybe now’s not the time—”

“Why not?” Gi-hun cut you off, his eyes glassy but filled with a strange intensity. “Sangwoo doesn’t care. Do you, Sangwoo?”

Sangwoo hesitated, glancing at you before replying softly, “Not at all.”

Gi-hun nodded triumphantly, as if Sangwoo’s approval was all the validation he needed. “See? Told you. No shame in it. Not a damn bit.”

You didn’t reply, focusing instead on guiding him toward the apartment. But Gi-hun wasn’t done.

“Your mom…” His voice grew quieter, tinged with bitterness. “She couldn’t handle it. Said it wasn’t natural. Like you weren’t her kid anymore, just because you stopped wearing dresses and started wearing ties.” He barked out a humorless laugh. “As if a piece of fabric could change the fact that you’re you.”

Your chest tightened, but you didn’t interrupt. This wasn’t the first time he’d brought it up, but it still hit like a sucker punch every time.

“She wanted you to be her perfect little daughter,” Gi-hun continued, his words starting to blur together. “And when you wouldn’t… she packed up your sister and left. Going all the way to America like that would fix everything.”

He stumbled again, and this time Sangwoo steadied him with a firm grip. “America’s got more people like you anyway,” Gi-hun added, his tone lightening into something almost comedic. “She probably hates it there. Serves her right.”

You let out a soft, startled laugh despite yourself. The absurdity of it all—the drunken way he said it, the thought of your mother fuming in a country full of people who were allowed to be themselves (kinda)—was too ridiculous not to.

Gi-hun turned to look at you, his expression suddenly serious. “But you know… I’m glad you stayed with me. I wouldn’t trade you for anything. Not for a wife, not for money, not for anything.”

Your throat tightened, and you could only nod, your voice caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

Gi-hun leaned heavily against Sangwoo, his weight almost toppling both of them. “My kid’s a damn good man,” he declared, his voice wobbling with emotion. “Better than I’ll ever be.”

Sangwoo’s gaze flickered toward you, his dark eyes softening in understanding. He didn’t say anything, but the slight dip of his head felt like a silent acknowledgment—a recognition of everything unsaid.

When you finally got Gi-hun back to the apartment, he collapsed onto the couch, snoring almost instantly. You stood there for a moment, staring at him, your emotions too tangled to sort through.

Sangwoo broke the silence, his voice low. “He’s a good father.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the quiet sincerity in his tone. “Yeah,” you replied, your voice softer than usual. “He is.”

When you finally got your dad into bed from the couch, you turned to Sangwoo, expecting some kind of witty remark.

Instead, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“What?” you asked, your voice coming out more defensive than you intended.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Acting like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing,” he said, stepping closer. His voice was low, almost a growl, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Maybe I don’t,” you replied, your tone defiant.

“Don’t play dumb.” He was close now, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. “You’ve been pushing me all week. Do you even know what you’re asking for?”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t back down. “Maybe I do.”

That was all it took.

His hand shot out, gripping the back of your neck as his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was rough, heated, filled with all the tension that had been building between you.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands clutching at his shirt as he pressed you against the wall. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and you let out a quiet gasp that only spurred him on.

The kiss had left you breathless, your pulse pounding in your ears as Sangwoo’s grip on the back of your neck softened just slightly. The wall at your back was cool, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His forehead rested against yours, and for a brief moment, neither of you spoke.

“You’re trouble,” he muttered again, his voice quieter this time, but no less intense.

“You’re the one kissing me,” you shot back, the words shaky but bold.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and his fingers slid from your neck to trace the line of your jaw. The touch was maddeningly slow, deliberate, and you couldn’t help but lean into it.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” he asked, his tone tinged with something between amusement and exasperation.

“Do you?” you countered, meeting his gaze.

His eyes darkened, and his hand dropped to your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Good thing I’m not scared of getting burned.”

That was all it took for him to lose the last thread of restraint. His lips were on yours again, fiercer this time, his hands gripping your waist as if anchoring himself. You clung to him just as desperately, your fingers tangling in his shirt.

When he pulled back again, his lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve been driving me insane,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

“Yeah?” you whispered, a teasing edge creeping into your tone despite the way your heart was racing. “And here I thought you were just ignoring me.”

His laugh was soft, almost bitter. “Ignoring you? Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”

Your face heated at his words, but you couldn’t resist pushing him just a little further. “Sounds like a you problem, old man.”

His grip tightened on your waist, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression a mix of frustration and desire. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he didn’t give you the chance. His lips were on yours again, his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt to rest against your bare skin. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and you gasped softly against his mouth.

“Sangwoo—” you started, but he silenced you with another kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before he pulled away just slightly.

“Say my name again,” he murmured, his voice so low it sent a thrill down your spine.

Your lips parted, but the sound of a door creaking down the hall snapped you both back to reality.

“Shit,” you whispered, your head jerking toward the noise.

He let out a soft curse, his hands slipping from your waist as he stepped back, putting just enough space between you to make it look like nothing had happened.

“Dad?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Probably,” Sangwoo replied, his tone clipped. He straightened his shirt, his expression already hardening back into the composed mask he’d worn all week.

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed as you watched him pull himself together, but the heat in his gaze when he glanced back at you told you this wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

“Go to bed,” he said quietly, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest hint of a smirk. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“Promise?” you asked, your voice light but your heart still pounding.

He didn’t answer, but the look he gave you said enough.

Saturday had never felt so bittersweet. Usually, it was your favorite day of the week—a time to sleep in, lounge around, and revel in doing absolutely nothing. But this Saturday was different. Sangwoo’s stay was coming to an end, and the thought of him leaving left a knot in your stomach.

You hadn’t had the chance to talk about what had happened that night after the pub—or maybe you’d both avoided it. Every brush of his hand, every lingering look, had felt heavier in the days that followed. But neither of you had acknowledged it. Not once.

The tension in the apartment was unbearable, made worse by your dad’s cheery obliviousness. That morning, he announced he had to run out for work and wouldn’t be back until evening. He didn’t even glance up as he slipped on his shoes, leaving you alone with Sangwoo.

You sat at the kitchen table, absently swirling the stick of a grape lollipop between your lips as you scrolled through your phone. The candy clicked softly against your teeth, your thoughts miles away.

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor snapped you back to reality. You glanced up to see Sangwoo sitting across from you, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“Is it good?” he asked, nodding toward the lollipop.

You pulled it out of your mouth with a soft pop, tilting your head. “What, this?” You swirled the candy dramatically. “Amazing. Want a taste, old man?”

His lips quirked into that maddening smirk, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he stood, moving toward you with deliberate slowness.

“Sangwoo,” you started, a warning in your tone.

He stopped right beside you, one hand braced on the table as he leaned down. His voice was low, a soft rumble that made your pulse quicken. “You’ve been driving me insane all week.”

You tried for a laugh, but it came out shaky. “Is this about the coffee thing again? (you had put salt in his coffee instead of sugar because you were so fixated on his face-) Because I already apologized—”

His hand reached out, his fingers gently gripping your chin, tilting your face toward him. The sudden proximity stole the words from your throat.

“Stop,” he said quietly, his eyes locked on yours. “Stop pretending like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

Your heart was hammering now, the lollipop stick trembling slightly in your fingers. “Maybe I don’t,” you replied, though the smirk tugging at your lips said otherwise.

His gaze dropped to your mouth, and for a moment, he seemed to wrestle with himself. Then he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re going to make me lose control.”

The words sent a thrill through you, but before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It was rough, messy, and desperate, like he’d been holding back for too long and couldn’t stand it anymore. The lollipop tumbled from your hand, forgotten as you gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

He groaned softly against your mouth, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you out of the chair and into him. Your back hit the wall a second later, and you gasped, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands tangled in his hair, still faintly damp from his morning shower. He kissed you like he was starving, his lips hot and insistent against yours. One of his hands slid up, tangling in your hair, while the other gripped your hip, keeping you firmly in place.

“You taste sweet,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough.

You managed a breathless laugh, tilting your head to nip at his jaw. “Blame the lollipop.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and heated. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“On the table,” you teased, the corner of your mouth quirking up.

With a low chuckle, he grabbed the discarded lollipop, holding it up as if examining it. Then, to your shock, he popped it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours.

“That’s mine,” you protested weakly, though your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Not anymore,” he said, his tone laced with amusement.

Before you could respond, he was kissing you again, the faint sweetness of the candy mixing with the heat of his mouth. The combination was intoxicating, making your head spin.

His hands roamed, gripping your waist, sliding under your shirt to brush against your bare skin. Every touch left a trail of fire in its wake, and you couldn’t help the soft sound that escaped your lips.

“Sangwoo,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.

“Sangwoo,” you repeated, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his breathing ragged. “You’ve been driving me crazy all week,” he said, his voice low and raw.

“Good,” you shot back, your smirk returning. “Serves you right, old man.”

His laugh was quiet, almost disbelieving, before his lips found yours again, pulling you into another dizzying kiss.

His hand was going lower and lower, first to your collarbone, then to your waist. It slowly inched the topband of your shorts, pulling it back and letting it slap onto your skip, making you yelp.

His other hand held you steady at the waist, while his dominant one went under your boxers.

You whimpered as you felt his hand graze your cunt, teasing one finger against your wet folds. It had been a solid minute since you even touched yourself down there. You were always too anxious that Sangwoo would be able to hear you (Dad was tone deaf) or he might come home earlier than expected from his business meetings.

And his fingers— God, his hands. So strong and thick. They linger over the soft pudge of your cunt, pressing into the warm skin and pulling apart each sticky fold to ghost over the quiver and throb of your acawaiting, needy clit. How overwhelming they were, using his thumb to rub smooth circles into it, eliciting a wet squelch as his fingers sunk into your hot, gummy walls.

You latched your hands on his shoulders, back arching into the wall with the sudden intrusion. You muffled any noise you made by hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

He propped you up higher on the wall, letting your head fall back, while his eyes never left yours.

“Sangwo–,” you were cut off by him suddenly sliding your shorts down. You remembered with embarrassment that you had worn–

“Huh. Hello Kitty.” the man stated while looking at your bright pink boxers. Your face flushed, turning to look away, while Sanwoo slid your boxers down and continued to have his way with your sopping cunt.

You had no idea how long you had been in that position. He had taken your leg and placed it on your shoulder, making you somewhat balance on one leg, back resting on the wall and your hands on his shoulder.

Sangwoo on the other hand was obsessed with how his fingers were practically being devoured by your needy cunt, the slick making it easier to slide in every time.

He determined that you had been prepped enough, and removed his belt, along with his pants and boxers, which were now pooling at his knees.

He used his toned arms to steadily lift both your legs up, making you squeak. Your knees were now at the same level of your shoulders. Before you could let out a remark, he had slid the tip of his length into your gummy walls, eyes going wide with how tight you were.

“Fuck…so tight f’me, aren’t you?” It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement, and before you could respond, he had slid all the way in, making you gasp.

Using the opportunity, he captured your lips with his once more, muffling the sweet moans that came from you. He wanted to hear you, but your neighbours seemed to be quite…nosy.

When he had buried his cock all the way to the hilt, he stopped.

“Please…fuck, Sangwoo–,” you whined, feeling full but it just. wasn’t. enough.

“Please what doll? Use your words,” he teased, the smugness evident on his face.

“Fuck me till my legs are shaking. Please please plea–,” before you could finish, Sangwoo had slid out and he rammed into you once more, making you let out an almost pornographic moan.

He went at it like an animal, fucking into you with reckless abandon, as though he was in a rut. Your hands went from his shoulders to his back, your nails (whatever was left of them after you bit them off) scratched his back, leaving crescent shaped indents on his skin.

Your cunt clamped tightly around his cock, as you tried to babble something but only moans left your lips. He seemed so heavily into chasing his own orgasm at this point.

“San..Sangwoo..I– ” You tried to say but could only cry out as you felt your orgasm wash over you like a rapid stream. Your fingers dug ineffectually into his back as a way of forgetting the overstimulation against the older man’s harsh thrusts.

He groaned, feeling the sting of your nails and how your cunt was clenching around his length with every thrust.

He continued going even after you came, his hips retracting at a fast pace. His grip on your waist tightened, pressing down onto your flesh.

“ I’m gonna-- “, he breathes out before (reluctantly) pulling out of your tight hole and climaxing all over your stomach.

The warmth of the liquid seeped down your stomach, settling in your navel and even going further to your used cunt.

As he was staring at your hole, that was still clenching around nothing, you brought your shaky hand to his face and dived in for another kiss.

The sound of a key turning in the door was unheard. Your dad’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Forgot my wallet! Need to get the groceries– What the… CHO SANGWOO WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY SON–”

Shit.

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ye4gerz · 3 days ago

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my game, your rules. — ldh part three (FINAL)

‧˚⭒ pairing: lee donghyuck x afab reader 18+MDNI ‧˚⭒ genre: brothers best friend au! fake dating! friends to lovers! humor! fluff! angst! smut! adult life au! jenos sister! flirty hc! ‧˚⭒ word count: 11k+ ‧˚⭒ cw: the beginning part is mostly angst, sorry! smut towards the end. dirty talking, raw sex, choking, etc. drinking, mentions of jaehyun, dom hc. ‧˚⭒ summary: you’re fed up with your family constantly telling you how to live your life, but what would they think if you showed up with your brother’s best friend as your new boyfriend? even worse—what happens when you realize you’re actually falling for him?

‧˚⭒ a/n: thank you for the wait everyone! i realized due to my personal life being so busy sometimes, i’m prob better off sticking to long one shots lmao. sorry i had to end it short at three parts. i'll be working on another one shot soon, thank you to everyone who engaged with the series, enjoy! (ignore any grammatical errors if any)

It was one thing to pretend to be with your brother’s best friend, and another to actually be with your brother’s best friend, but what do you call it when the best friend you’re fake dating starts to feel… real?

You guessed it was whatever complicated, undefined thing you had going on with Haechan right now.

It had been several nights since the first time you’d slept together, and somehow, it had slipped into your routine without much discussion. Every evening, he was there—waiting outside your job to pick you up, a sly grin on his face as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Days and nights repeated like clockwork, neither of you acknowledging the shift, as if naming it would make it too real. Instead, you both just… enjoyed it.

“Fine, we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Your own words replayed in your mind endlessly, and you found yourself wishing they had been a promise instead of an empty phrase, left to dissolve into the early hours of the day.

Yet, even without a label, you couldn’t deny the effect he had on you. Your stress was melting away bit by bit, the weight of work no longer consuming you like it used to. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were beginning to understand the elusive concept of a work-life balance.

As you stood in front of the mirror, your gaze traveled over your reflection. Love bites peppered your skin, faint but impossible to ignore. Each one held a memory, moments you couldn’t help but replay in your head. You smiled softly, warmth spreading through you at the thought of him.

You missed him already.

“What’s taking so long?” Karina’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, followed by a series of impatient knocks on the bathroom door.

“Sorry!” you called back, hurriedly finishing your last-minute outfit adjustments. “I’m coming out now!”

Tonight was girls night—a night you’d promised yourself would be nothing but fun, but as you opened the door and met Karina’s scrutinizing gaze, you couldn’t help but wonder how much of the night your thoughts would linger on Haechan.

“Impatient much?” you teased Karina as you slipped on your earrings.

“It’s been forever since it’s just been the two of us,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “I swear, I should sue Haechan for stealing you away from me.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “No need to worry. Tomorrow’s the night he meets my family, and soon after, our ‘relationship’”—you emphasized with air quotes—“will officially be over. I get my peace, and they get to meet someone who isn’t you for once.”

Karina leaned against the doorframe, her sharp gaze raking over you like she was trying to read between the lines. “You’re not convincing me,” she said, raising a brow. “Do you think you can hide those marks? Please, you two are so deep in denial it’s almost painful to watch.”

Her words hit like a sucker punch, and you fumbled for a response. It had nothing to do with your best friend, but all with the fact that Haechan has been a bit distant today. You didn’t want to flood your thoughts with worry, but the intensity of your underlying feelings were too much to ignore. Instead of addressing the comment, you busied yourself with adjusting the strap on your heels, your eyes glued to the floor. “Like I said, it’ll be ending soon. Can we not talk about him right now?”

Karina frowned but didn’t push further, though her knowing expression didn’t go unnoticed.

Meanwhile, across town, Haechan sat on his couch, the glow of his phone illuminating his frustrated expression. He knew you were going out with Karina tonight—you’d told him—but something about it gnawed at him. He hadn’t responded to your last text, and even when he did, it took hours because every reply felt like walking a tightrope.

The thought of you at a club, surrounded by strangers, without him, it sent his mind spiraling. What if some guy tried something? Worse, what if you met someone—someone you actually liked—and decided to drop this whole fake relationship?

“Would that be cheating?” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Yes—no—shit.”

This wasn’t real. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself; every lingering glance, every stolen moment, and every kiss that left him breathless felt all too real. The weight of unspoken feelings hung between you both like a thread threatening to snap. He turned his phone off and on again, trying to distract himself, but the pull you had on him was intoxicating, inescapable.

Back at your apartment, Karina softened, rubbing your back in a gesture of comfort. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “It’s not my place to bring up your love life. Let’s just go have fun tonight, okay? Who knows, maybe we’ll both go home with someone new.”

Her attempt to lighten the mood made you smile despite yourself. “Yeah, let’s just have fun,” you echoed, grabbing your purse and heading for the door.

Even as you walked out with Karina, a small part of you wondered if Haechan was thinking about you as much as you were thinking about him.

Meanwhile, Haechan logged online with Jeno, hoping a few rounds of gaming would help clear his mind. However, playing with your brother, of all people, might not have been the smartest way to distract himself.

“So, are you nervous about tomorrow night?” Jeno asked as they waited for the game to load.

“Not really,” Haechan replied honestly. “I’ve met your parents before. They’re nice people.”

Jeno adjusted his mic. “Yeah, but you’ve met them as my friend. You’ve never met them as my sister’s boyfriend. Not to mention, it’s the first time she’s bringing someone home.”

Haechan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the weight of Jeno’s words sinking in. The idea of meeting your parents in this new role suddenly felt a lot heavier than it had before.

He had pitched this whole fake dating idea to help you out, to make your life easier during a time when you needed it most. He’d told himself that was all it was. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t just that anymore. Somewhere along the way, the lies stopped feeling like lies.

The hand-holding wasn’t just for show. The playful teasing, the lingering touches, the way his chest tightened whenever you smiled at him—it had all become painfully real. With each passing day, the guilt of keeping this from Jeno gnawed at him more.

He thought back to one of the nights you’d slept over. You’d fallen asleep in his arms, your breathing soft and even, while he stayed awake, unable to tear his eyes away from you. His gaze had traced the curve of your cheek, the way your lashes fanned out against your skin. Without thinking, he’d leaned closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your hair.

This had become his new normal—holding you, being with you. Every time he thought about what came next, a deep ache settled in his chest. What if this all ended? What if he lost you?

“Hello? You good?” Jeno’s voice broke through his thoughts, dragging him back to the present.

“Yeah, my fault,” Haechan muttered, fumbling with his keyboard. “Um… yeah, I guess I am nervous— but you’ll be there too, so not much to worry about, right?”

“Exactly, bro,” Jeno said, his tone light. “You’ve got this. Now, focus up—I’m getting mobbed over here!”

Haechan managed a small laugh, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “On it,” he replied, diving into the game.

As the action picked up, his thoughts remained elsewhere. His grip tightened on the mouse, his chest heavy with the weight of his own emotions. This was going to be a long night.

Three shots in, and you were already feeling it. You’d never been one to hold your alcohol well. While you weren’t completely gone, you were definitely teetering on the edge of tipsy and drunk. The music thumped through the club, vibrating in your chest, and the dim lighting made it easy to lose yourself in the atmosphere.

“There’s my girl! Look at you having a good time!” Karina cheered, hyping you up as you squeezed the life out of a lemon wedge after your latest shot.

You coughed, shaking your head with a laugh. “I’m getting there, that’s for sure.”

Karina plopped down on the barstool beside you, resting her chin in her hand as she watched you with a fond expression. “Not to kill the buzz or anything, but do you think you’re ready to talk about what’s been weighing on you? I can tell you’ve got something on your chest, and you won’t fully let loose until you do.”

You hesitated, your eyes drifting to the crowd behind her. That’s when you spotted him—a man dressed clean and sharp, head to toe. His neatly parted black hair framed deep, unreadable eyes, and they were locked on you. Feeling a strange flutter of nerves, you quickly shook it off, turning back to Karina as you fidgeted with the rim of your shot glass.

“I guess it’s no secret that Haechan and I have been… kind of together? I don’t really know what to call it.” You sighed, glancing at her. “I mean, yeah, we’re supposed to be pretending, but lately, it’s felt a lot more serious. No matter how much we try to keep it casual, we just keep getting pulled toward each other— and sleeping together? That’s only made it worse.”

Karina’s brow arched slightly, but she stayed silent, letting you continue.

“I’m scared this is all Haechan wants,” you admitted, rubbing your temples. “What if I’m just something to pass the time? I’m too afraid to bring it up because if I’m wrong, and I read this all wrong… what then? What if I ruin everything, and he rejects me for real? That would be awkward as hell.”

Karina’s wide eyes softened, and she reached out to rub your back. “Wow. Yeah, that’s a lot to carry around. No wonder you’ve been so tense,” she said gently. “But listen, you’ve got to talk to him. Tell him exactly what you just told me. If it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know you tried—and hey, this whole thing has already benefited you in some ways, right? Don’t feel guilty for walking away if that’s what you decide to do. You’re not actually together, so you don’t owe anyone anything. You can do what’s best for you.”

Her words brought some comfort, and you smiled at her, feeling a flicker of gratitude. Before you could respond, the bartender approached, placing a tall margarita with a cherry on top in front of you.

“A gentleman paid for your drink and the next few shots for you two,” he explained.

“What the hell…” Karina whispered, scanning the room with wide eyes.

Your gaze followed hers until it landed on the same man from earlier. He was making his way toward you now, a confident stride and a charming smile revealing deep dimples.

“Hello, ladies,” he greeted smoothly, his voice rich and warm.

“Well, hello, handsome,” Karina replied, nudging your leg under the bar as she batted her lashes.

His smile lingered, but his eyes moved to yours, the anticipation in them unmistakable. “I’m Jaehyun,” he introduced himself, “I just wanted to say you both look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Thank you, Jaehyun! We appreciate that, don’t we?” Karina said, looking at you expectantly.

You hesitated before giving him your name, your voice quieter than you intended. His reaction caught you off guard—he took your hand and kissed it lightly. “Wonderful to meet you,” he said, his smile deepening. “I’ll let you get back to your conversation, but if you’d like to have a good time together, well—this is for you.”

As he walked off, Karina grabbed your arm. “Wow! Talk about dreamy! What did he give you?”

You unfolded the napkin he’d placed in your hand, already knowing what to expect. Inside was a neat scrawl: In case you need another shoulder to lean on ;) – J followed by his number.

You rolled your eyes. “Great. Just what I needed.”

Karina laughed, shaking her head. “If you’re not going to use it, you can pass it my way!”

“No way,” you said firmly. “I don’t need the reminder of this awkward interaction if you end up hooking up with him.” Stuffing the napkin into your purse, you resolved to toss it later.

“Fine, but that’s a major loss,” she teased. “How about this instead: we finish our free drinks, grab something sweet to eat, and call it a night?”

You smiled at her sincerity. “Sounds like a plan.”

The plan, however, turned out to be a little hazier than expected. Jaehyun had paid for more shots than you realized, and by the time you left the club, you and Karina were beyond tipsy, stumbling into an Uber together.

After dropping Karina off safely, you found yourself standing in front of Haechan’s building instead of your own. Buzzing his apartment repeatedly, you chuckled loudly into the intercom when his tired, slightly annoyed voice answered.

“May I ask who’s obliterating my buzzer at this hour?”

“It’s meeee!” you said through a fit of giggles.

There was a pause, and then the door buzzed open. Moments later, Haechan met you in the hallway, his arms crossed as he watched you nearly trip over your own feet.

“Someone had fun tonight, I see,” he teased, shaking his head as he walked over to steady you.

You clutched onto his shirt, looking up at him with glassy eyes. “Can’t have fun when I’m missing you so much,” you mumbled.

His teasing grin softened into something gentler, and he wrapped an arm around you, guiding you to his apartment. Once inside, he carefully sat you on the edge of his bed, rummaging through his drawers for some comfortable clothes for you to change into.

Haechan gently changed your clothes for you, his touch careful and deliberate. Using the makeup remover wipes you’d left at his place over the past few weeks, he softly cleaned your face, wary of being too rough as he worked around your features.

“Let me grab you some water, okay? Just get comfortable,” he said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You nodded sleepily, sinking into the pillows as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Your gaze wandered across the room, catching the faint glow from his gaming monitor. A small smile tugged at your lips as you pictured him sitting there, completely immersed in a match, his focused expression etched in your memory. You reached toward the side table, expecting to find your phone, only to remember it was still in your purse.

“Hyuckieeee!” you called, raising your voice as much as your drunk tired state allowed. “Can you bring me my phone, pleaseeee? It’s in my purse!”

“Yes, ma’am!” he replied, his voice light and playful.

In the kitchen, Haechan grabbed a glass of water before reaching for your purse. As he rummaged through it to find your phone, a folded napkin clung to the device, slipping free and floating to the floor. He bent to pick it up, expecting it to be nothing—but then his eyes caught the scrawled handwriting.

In case you need another shoulder to lean on ;) – J xxx-xxx-xxxx.

His playful smile vanished instantly. It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. For a moment, he stood frozen, blinking at the napkin as though he could force the words to change.

Who the hell was J? Why did you have his number? And why the hell did he feel like the ground beneath him was starting to crumble?

“Hyuccccck!” your voice whined from the other room, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts.

His heart pounded as he shoved the napkin back into your purse, burying it as deep as he could. Grabbing your phone, he forced himself to compose his expression before walking back into the bedroom.

“Here,” he said, his voice a little too quiet as he handed you your phone and set the glass of water on the nightstand.

You barely noticed the change in his demeanor, already distracted as you unlocked your phone. Haechan, however, didn’t linger. He walked to his desk, muttered a quick goodnight to Jeno—completely ignoring whatever your brother was saying—and shut down his computer.

“W-Wait!” you called after him, frowning when you realized he was heading toward the door. “You’re not staying?”

He paused, his back to you. “You’ve had a long night, and tomorrow’s going to be even longer,” he said flatly, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. “You need sleep, and I can’t afford for you to get distracted.”

The coldness in his tone made you sit up slightly, confused. “Hyuck—”

“I’ll take the couch,” he interrupted, not turning around. “I’ll drive you home in the morning. Goodnight.”

Before you could respond, he flicked off the light and shut the door behind him.

You blinked at the closed door, baffled by his sudden shift. However, the exhaustion weighed heavy on your body, and soon enough, your head hit the pillow, pulling you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Meanwhile, Haechan sat on the couch, your purse on the table in front of him like it was mocking him. His mind raced, replaying every moment of the night and every possibility of what that napkin could mean.

His jaw clenched as a wave of jealousy surged through him, mingling with something deeper—something more vulnerable. Was this all a game to you? A distraction? Did this J mean more to you than he did?

Haechan leaned back, staring at the ceiling with a heaviness in his chest he couldn’t shake. Tomorrow was supposed to be the big day—the day he met your parents—but now he wasn’t so sure he could go through with it.

The couch was uncomfortable, but that wasn’t the problem. You were just down the hall, sound asleep in his bed, yet Haechan couldn’t close his eyes for more than a few seconds before they snapped back open.

Your purse sat on the coffee table like it was taunting him, the folded napkin inside feeling heavier than it had any right to. He rubbed his hands over his face, letting out a frustrated sigh as he leaned back against the couch cushions.

It wasn’t real. That’s what he kept reminding himself. You weren’t really his girlfriend, so why did the idea of someone else trying to be with you twist something so raw inside of him?

He replayed the events of the night, the way you had stumbled into his arms at the door, laughing and clinging to him like he was your safe haven. The way you’d told him you missed him—it echoed in his head, warm and sweet, and he had wanted to believe it.

Then he’d seen the napkin.

In case you need another shoulder to lean on.

The words looped in his mind like a curse. He sat up, staring at the purse again, his jaw tightening. Who was this J? Why did you have his number?

You had been with Karina, sure, but what if this guy was someone you’d met at the club? What if he’d been the one to buy you drinks, to make you laugh, to look at you in a way that Haechan foolishly thought only he did?

His fists clenched at the thought, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to push the images out of his head. He had no right to feel this way, he told himself. You weren’t his. Not really.

The idea of you leaning on someone else, laughing with someone else, kissing someone else—it made his stomach churn.

The minutes turned to hours, and the city outside the window grew quieter, yet his mind stayed restless.

He thought back to the times you’d spent together recently. The way your eyes softened when you looked at him, the way your fingers would brush against his as if it were second nature. The quiet moments after the fake laughter, when it felt like everything between you wasn’t fake at all.

Could he have imagined it all? Were the feelings one-sided?

He threw himself back against the couch, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Maybe this was what he deserved. Maybe this was the fallout of blurring the lines, of letting his heart get tangled in something that was never supposed to be real.

Then he thought about tomorrow—or rather, tonight. Meeting your family as your boyfriend. Pretending to be yours in front of the people who mattered most to you. The thought had filled him with nerves before, but now it felt unbearable. How was he supposed to stand there, play the part, when he didn’t even know where he stood with you?

His eyes drifted back to the purse again. It was a small thing, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, yet it felt monumental. That napkin had shattered whatever fragile understanding he thought you shared, leaving him questioning everything.

As the first rays of sunlight began to creep through the window, Haechan sighed deeply, running a hand over his face. His body was heavy with exhaustion, but his mind refused to let him rest.

One thing was certain—if he didn’t get answers soon, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending.

The faint scent of coffee and something savory woke you first. You blinked groggily, your head heavy and your body sluggish as you turned toward the nightstand. There, beside a glass of water, was a small bottle of Tylenol waiting for you.

The gesture brought a soft smile to your lips. Even after nights like this, he always took care of you.

Rubbing your temples, you sat up slowly, the ache in your head reminding you of last night’s drinks. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen. Pushing yourself out of bed, you shuffled toward the source of the noise, following the smell of breakfast.

When you stepped into the kitchen, he was already there, leaning against the counter with a coffee mug in hand. A plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon sat on the countertop, clearly made for you.

“Good morning,” you murmured, your voice scratchy from sleep as you pulled out a stool.

He barely glanced at you, taking a sip of his coffee before setting the mug down with a soft clink. “Eat up,” he said flatly, his tone devoid of its usual warmth. “You’re probably hungover.”

The coldness in his voice made you pause. You looked at him carefully, noting the stiffness in his posture, the way his eyes refused to meet yours.

“Thanks,” you said hesitantly, sitting down and picking at the food. You watched him from the corner of your eye, trying to gauge his mood.

When the silence stretched too long, you finally spoke. “Are you okay? You seem… off.”

“I’m fine,” he replied quickly, too quickly.

“You don’t seem fine,” you pressed, setting your fork down. “Did something happen last night?”

He let out a sharp breath through his nose, finally looking at you. His expression was guarded, but there was a flicker of something beneath it—hurt, frustration, something he wasn’t saying.

“I’ll start getting ready,” he said abruptly, brushing past your question. “You should eat and get some rest when you get home. We’ve got that big dinner tonight.”

You reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing against his arm to stop him, but he yanked it back before you could get a firm hold.

The motion was reflexive, but it felt like a slap. The shock of it lingered in the air between you, and you froze, your hand hanging in the space he’d just pulled away from.

“Did you just pull away from me…” your voice trailed off, your words caught somewhere between disbelief and hurt.

“I didn’t mean—” he started, his voice sharper than he intended. When he saw the look on your face, he cut himself off, turning away from you entirely.

“No, talk to me,” you said, standing now. The frustration bubbled up in your chest, and you didn’t care if your head was pounding or if your voice cracked. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been weird since last night. Did I do something?”

He clenched his fists at his sides, his shoulders rigid. “It’s nothing. Just drop it, okay?”

“Nothing?” you echoed incredulously, stepping closer. “You won’t look at me, you won’t talk to me, and now you’re pulling away like I did something wrong. If it’s nothing, then why are you acting like this?”

“Because I’m tired!” he snapped, spinning around to face you. His voice was sharp, the anger in his tone startling you; but beneath it, you heard the cracks, the weight of something deeper. “I’m tired, okay? Of this, of pretending, of…” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair as if trying to physically push the words back down.

“Of what?” you pressed softly, your heart thudding in your chest.

His jaw clenched, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “I just think you should go home, get some rest, and be ready for dinner tonight. That’s it.”

You stared at him, frustration and confusion swirling in your chest. He wouldn’t look at you, wouldn’t explain himself, and the distance he was putting between you felt suffocating.

“Fine,” you said quietly, the word laced with hurt. “If you want to push me away, then that’s on you.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t look up, didn’t move as you turned on your heel and headed back toward the bedroom to grab your remaining belongings. The door clicked shut behind you, and for a moment, all you could hear was the pounding in your head and the ache growing in your chest.

Whatever was going on, whatever he was holding back—it felt like it was slipping through your fingers, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

Meanwhile, he stood frozen in the kitchen, staring at the spot where you’d just been. His chest felt heavy, and the words he hadn’t said echoed in his mind, louder than anything else.

You stormed out of his room, grabbing your things with shaky hands, your chest tight with frustration and hurt. The air between you had been tense and suffocating, and you couldn’t stay another second in that apartment.

“Wait—” he called after you, his voice laced with urgency.

“I don’t need a ride home, and I don’t need a pity breakfast,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended as you reached the door. You turned back for a moment, your heart aching but your pride keeping you standing tall. “I’ll see you tonight, and then after that, whatever this is will be officially done.”

Before he could respond, you slammed the door shut behind you, the sound reverberating through the hallway.

The cold morning air hit your face as you made your way home on foot, each step heavy with unspoken emotions. The weight of everything pressed down on you, but you pushed through, your pace quickening as if moving faster would stop the thoughts from racing in your head.

When you finally reached your apartment, your hands were trembling as you unlocked the door. Once inside, the silence of your room felt deafening. You tossed your bag to the side and collapsed onto your bed, the weight of the morning and everything leading up to it crashing over you.

And then, it all came out.

Tears spilled down your cheeks, hot and relentless as you buried your face in your pillow. The ache in your chest felt unbearable, and no matter how much you tried to quiet yourself, the sobs broke free, filling the room.

The sound must have carried through the walls because moments later, a soft knock came at your door.

“Hey,” Jeno’s voice called through the wood, cautious and concerned. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”

You froze, your breath hitching as you quickly wiped at your face, trying to compose yourself. “I’m fine,” you croaked, but your shaky voice betrayed you.

“Please,” Jeno insisted, the worry in his tone clear. “Let me in.”

Reluctantly, you reached over and unlocked the door. Jeno pushed it open gently, stepping inside and closing it behind him. His eyes immediately found you on the bed, your tear-streaked face buried in your hands.

“Hey,” he said softly, walking over and sitting at the edge of your bed. “What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “I… I don’t know if we should even do the dinner tonight,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Jeno frowned, tilting his head in confusion. “Why not? What happened?”

You swallowed hard, debating how much to tell him. For a moment, you considered brushing it off, but the weight of everything you’d been holding inside was too much.

“I—” you started, hesitating before letting out a shaky breath. “I need to tell you the truth about something.”

Jeno’s brows furrowed, his expression soft but cautious. “Okay… I’m listening.”

You sat up slowly, wrapping your arms around your knees. “Haechan and I… we’re not really dating,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, letting you continue.

“We started fake dating because you and Mom and Dad wouldn’t get off my back about finding someone. I thought it would just be for a while, to take the pressure off, but…” Your voice cracked, and you rubbed at your face, frustrated with yourself.

“But what?” Jeno pressed gently.

“I fell for him,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I don’t know when it happened, but it’s not fake for me anymore. Now he’s barely talking to me, and I don’t know what I did wrong or what’s going on in his head. I feel like I ruined everything.”

Jeno stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he let out a sigh and reached over, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice full of genuine regret. “I didn’t realize how much pressure we were putting on you. I never meant to push you into something like this.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, the warmth of his embrace soothing some of the ache in your chest.

“I think you need to talk to him,” Jeno said after a moment, pulling back slightly to look at you. “You’re never going to get answers if you don’t. If he doesn’t feel the same way, that’s on him, not you. You were just trying to protect yourself, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“What if it makes things worse?” you asked, your voice small.

“Then we deal with it together—or not at all,” Jeno said firmly. “But you deserve to know the truth. Don’t let him leave you in the dark.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in.

“What about me moving out and finding someone? Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that what Mom and Dad want? To push me out?” you scoff, the words spilling out as your mind flashes back to the way Haechan pushed you away earlier.

Jeno’s reaction is immediate, his tone sharp with hurt. “What are you talking about? You think that’s what this is about? That I want to kick you out?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you nod slowly, wiping the tears off your cheeks with trembling hands.

Jeno starts to say something but stops, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath as he forces himself to calm down. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, steadier.

“I love you,” he says firmly, his words cutting through the silence. “You’re my sister, and you’re the only one I’ve got. It’s just you and me here, besides Mom and Dad back home. I don’t want you to leave. You’re my real best friend.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and you blink back fresh tears as he continues.

“I just want to see you happy,” he says, his tone gentle now. “I want to see you live your life, not bury yourself in work or stress. You put so much pressure on yourself, and it kills me to see you overwhelmed all the time. I thought… maybe having someone close to you, someone new, might give you a sense of peace.”

He pauses, running a hand through his hair before sighing. “And listen, I know you said you and Haechan schemed this whole thing, but it’s obvious there’s something between you two. Anyone with eyes can see it.”

Your sobs come back harder, and Jeno instinctively moves closer, rubbing soothing circles on your back. His touch is warm, grounding, as his words wrap around you like a protective shield.

“I’ve always just wanted the best for you,” he says softly, leaning his head closer to yours. “I want you to be happy and healthy, and if that means staying here as long as you need, then stay. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ve got your back. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t welcome. That was never my intention, and I hate that I made you feel this way. I don’t want to push you away.”

You collapse into his arms, burying your face in his shoulder as your sobs come freely. His embrace is strong, steady, as he holds you like he’s anchoring you to the ground. For once, in a while, you felt wanted by your own blood.

“Thank you, Jen,” you manage between cries. “For everything. I’m so sorry I lied to you. I love you.”

He pulls you closer, his chin resting on your head. “I love you too,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “No more lying, okay? I’ve got your back, no matter what.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your chest lifts just slightly, enough for you to breathe. You stay like that for a moment longer, letting yourself cry until the tears run out, until the warmth of your brother’s hug melts away the worst of your pain.

Jeno gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before standing. “Thank you for opening up to me. I’ll give you some space. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?”

As he left your room, you could hear him muttering something under his breath. A moment later, the sound of his voice carried through the apartment as he tried to get a hold of Haechan.

“Yeah?” Haechan answers after the third ring, his voice tense.

“Meet me in front of my building in ten minutes,” Jeno says, his tone tight as he tries to keep his anger in check.

“So, she told you?” Haechan asks, his voice low.

“Yeah,” Jeno replies curtly.

Haechan pulls the phone away from his mouth, letting out a desperate sigh as his eyes fix on the ceiling, silently pleading for something—anything—to save him from what’s coming. After a long pause, he exhales sharply. “Okay, I’m on my way.”

Jeno stood outside the complex building, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the sidewalk. The air was crisp, but it didn’t stop the tension from coiling in his chest. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets as he waited, replaying the conversation he’d had with his sister earlier.

Her tears, her shaky voice—everything about it had gutted him. Whatever had happened between her and Haechan, it needed to be resolved. Jeno wasn’t the kind of brother to let things like this slide, not when it was so obvious how much she was hurting.

Finally, he spotted Haechan approaching from a distance. The usual lightness in his step was gone, replaced by a slower, heavier gait. His hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of his hoodie, his head tilted down, as if he already knew what was coming.

When Haechan reached him, Jeno didn’t waste time. “Do you love her?”

The question hit like a punch, straightforward and impossible to dodge. Haechan froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly before his gaze darted to the ground.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “I do. I have for a while now.”

Jeno’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but his expression remained firm. “Then what the hell happened?”

Haechan let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “I… I don’t know, man. She came over last night after the club, and everything was fine until I found this note in her purse. It was from some guy—‘J’ or whatever—and it just… messed me up. I didn’t know what to think.”

Jeno frowned, his brows furrowing. “A note? From who?”

“I don’t know,” Haechan said, his voice rising slightly. “It was just some number and a message about being there for her. It made me think—what if I’m not enough? What if she’s keeping her options open?”

Jeno’s jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling. “So you let your jealousy get the better of you and pushed her away instead of talking to her?”

“I didn’t push her away,” Haechan argued weakly, though the guilt in his voice was evident. “I just… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Jeno shook his head, exhaling sharply. “She loves you, Hyuck. She told me everything—how you two started this whole fake dating thing because of me and our parents. Only, it’s not fake for her anymore. She’s scared you don’t feel the same, and now she’s in her room crying because she thinks you don’t care.”

Haechan blinked, his breath catching. “She… she said that?”

“Yeah, she did,” Jeno said firmly. “And let me tell you something—you’re one of my best friends, Hyuck. You’re a good guy, but if you care about her, you need to prove it. You can’t keep shutting her out every time something scares you.”

Haechan swallowed hard, the weight of Jeno’s words sinking in.

“You’ve been a great friend to me,” Jeno continued, his voice softer now. “I know you’re the kind of person who would go to the ends of the earth for the people you care about. So if you really want to be with her, if you see a future with her, then you need to go upstairs, talk to her, and fix this. Don’t let one very stupid misunderstanding ruin everything.”

Haechan’s hands clenched at his sides, his heart racing as he processed everything.

“What if I screw it up again?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jeno placed a firm hand on his shoulder, his expression both serious and reassuring. “Then you keep trying. Relationships aren’t perfect, but they’re worth it when it’s real—and this? I can tell it’s real for both of you. So don’t waste any more time.”

Haechan nodded slowly, the resolve in his chest growing stronger. Without another word, he turned toward the building, his legs carrying him toward the confrontation he both dreaded and needed.

Jeno watched him go, letting out a deep sigh. For the first time all day, he felt a glimmer of hope that maybe—just maybe—things would turn out the way they were supposed to.

You had finally managed to calm yourself down after a long, warm shower and curling up under the covers of your bed. Yet, no matter how hard you tried, your mind kept replaying the events of the morning. Every sharp word, every look, every lingering feeling—it all circled in your head like a storm you couldn’t escape.

A sudden knock at your door interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

“Yeah?” you called out, assuming it was Jeno checking on you again. The door creaked open slowly, and when you looked up, it wasn’t Jeno.

Haechan stood there, hesitating in the doorway, his hand gripping the frame as if he needed it to steady himself.

“Hey… Can I come in?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, almost cautious.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that you’d fought so hard to push down. Fidgeting with your hands, you nodded. “Sure.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him gently, as though he was afraid of shattering the fragile air between you. He moved to the corner of your bed, sitting down hesitantly, his posture stiff and uncertain.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice tinged with guilt. “For the way I reacted this morning. I was upset, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You gave me every chance to talk, and I just… didn’t.”

You stayed silent, watching him from the head of your bed, the weight of his words making your chest tighten.

“Truth is,” he continued, rubbing his hands together, “I found that napkin in your purse last night. You know, the one with the note.”

Suddenly, everything clicked.

“I got jealous,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “At first, that’s all it was. However, the more I read it, the more frustrated I got—not because some other guy was interested in you, but because I realized it was more than that.”

He sighed, his hand running through his hair, tugging at the strands in a way you recognized as his tell when he was struggling to get the words out.

“I like you,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “A lot. I like you a lot more than like, actually.” He let out a small, nervous laugh, shaking his head as his eyes dropped to the floor.

“Ever since we met, I’ve liked you,” he confessed, his voice quieter now. “At first, I didn’t say anything because you’re Jeno’s sister. What kind of friend would I be if I got feelings for my best friend’s sister, right? Then, it turned into something so much more than that. You became my best friend, too. The first person I think about when I wake up, the last person I think about before I fall asleep, and the only person in my dreams. You’re everywhere in my head.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, tears spilling down your cheeks before you could stop them.

“I know,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “It was my idea to start all of this. At first, it was just pretending, but then it became real. For me, it became so real. And that note? That stupid, meaningless note? It wasn’t even about the guy—it was about me. I hated that a complete stranger had the courage to tell you how he felt when I couldn’t, even after everything we’ve shared. I let my pride and my fear get in the way, and I hurt you because of it. I’m so sorry.”

This time, he looked up, his eyes locking with yours. They weren’t cold like they had been this morning. They were warm, soft, familiar—filled with the Haechan you knew and cared for. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek as he wiped away your tears.

“I’m truly sorry, love,” he said, his voice trembling slightly but full of conviction. “If you’ll let me, I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want this to be fake. I want us—you and me—to be real. Please, let’s make this real.”

His words hung in the air, each one wrapping around your heart and tugging at it. You stared at him, your lips parting slightly as you tried to process the raw sincerity in his confession. The way his eyes bore into yours, the vulnerability etched across his face, it all broke down every last wall you’d built to keep your feelings hidden.

Slowly, your body moved on its own. You crawled across the bed, closing the small space between you and Haechan before throwing your arms around his shoulders. His warmth engulfed you as your head nestled against his neck, and for the first time all day, you allowed yourself to melt into him.

Haechan’s arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you even closer as he let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your hair. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never do that to you again. I promise, I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

His voice cracked with emotion, the words tumbling out over and over as he held you. His hand ran soothingly along your back while the other cradled the back of your head.

You stayed like that for a moment, soaking in his warmth and the steady beat of his heart. When you finally pulled back, your hands remained on his shoulders, and you found yourself looking into his eyes—those deep, soulful eyes that were filled with nothing but regret and love.

“The note,” you started softly, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “It was from some random guy at the club. He handed it to me, and I shoved it in my purse so I could throw it out later. But… we got drunk, and I completely forgot it was even there.”

His expression shifted instantly, from shock to embarrassment, and finally to guilt. “So it really didn’t mean anything?” he asked, his voice almost timid.

You shook your head firmly. “Not a thing. I didn’t even remember it existed until just now.”

Haechan exhaled a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “I overthought everything, and I pushed you away when I should’ve just asked you.”

You gave him a small, tentative smile, your fingers absentmindedly smoothing over his shoulders. “You’re not an idiot,” you said gently. “You were scared, and honestly? So was I.”

His brows furrowed slightly, his gaze softening as he tilted his head in curiosity. “Scared?”

You nodded, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze. “Scared because… I like you, too. A lot. Maybe more than a lot.” You let out a nervous laugh, your hands dropping to your lap. “I think I’ve been trying so hard to convince myself that this was just pretend because I didn’t want to ruin anything between us. But the truth is, I don’t want to pretend anymore either. I want us to start over—for real this time.”

His eyes widened at your words, and for a moment, he just stared at you, completely still. Then, as if something clicked inside him, his expression changed. The regret and guilt melted away, replaced by something so raw, so full of love and passion that it took your breath away.

Haechan reached for your face, his hands cradling your cheeks as if you were the most delicate thing in the world. “You mean that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, your smile trembling as tears welled in your eyes. “I mean it.”

That was all he needed. In an instant, he leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that was both passionate, real, and impossibly tender. His lips moved against yours with a reverence that made your heart ache, as if he were pouring every unspoken word, every hidden feeling, into that single moment.

Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching at his hoodie as you kissed him back, matching the intensity of his emotions. It was like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you, tangled in each other and the overwhelming feelings you’d kept buried for so long.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of his confession.

Your breath hitched, and your lips curved into a smile as you looked into his eyes. “I love you, too,” you said, your voice steady and full of truth.

The smile that broke across his face was radiant, and he pulled you into his arms again, holding you like he never wanted to let go. For the first time, there was no doubt, no pretending—just the two of you, finally on the same page.

The evening had finally arrived, and the three of you—Jeno, Haechan, and yourself—stood outside your parents' house. The warm glow of the porch light illuminated the path, casting a comforting hue that did little to calm the nerves buzzing in your chest. Haechan stood beside you, his hand brushing against yours, and when you glanced at him, he gave you a small smile, his own nerves barely hidden beneath his confident exterior.

“You guys ready?” Jeno asked, breaking the silence.

You nodded, inhaling deeply as you stepped forward.

When the door opened, the familiar warmth of your parents' home enveloped you. Your mom greeted you with a tight hug, her smile as radiant as ever. Your dad stood just behind her, his eyes lighting up as he welcomed all of you inside.

“Come in, come in! It’s been too long,” your mom said, ushering everyone inside.

As you stepped into the living room, Haechan gave your parents a polite bow, his usual charm already working its magic. “Thank you for having us tonight,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with warmth.

“Of course, Haechan,” your mom replied, smiling at him. “It’s nice to finally have you here as more than just Jeno’s friend.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow, a curious look passing over his face. “Oh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

This was it. You glanced at Haechan, and he gave you a reassuring nod, his hand discreetly finding yours. Together, you both stepped forward, standing side by side in front of your parents.

“Well,” you began, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “We wanted to let you know that Donghyuck and I… we’re together now. Officially. He’s my boyfriend.”

Haechan’s smile widened as he looked at your parents, his voice filled with pride and sincerity as he added, “It’s true. I care about your daughter a lot, and I promise to always treat her with the love and respect she deserves.”

Your parents exchanged a quick glance, their expressions softening.

“Well,” your dad said after a moment, his voice warm, “if our daughter is happy, that’s all that matters to us.”

Your mom’s smile was beaming now as she stepped forward, squeezing you into a hug first before turning to Haechan. “Welcome to the family,” she said, patting his shoulder affectionately.

Behind you, Jeno let out a low whistle, crossing his arms as a smug grin spread across his face. “I told you they’d approve,” he said, clearly enjoying the moment.

You shot him a playful glare, but the warmth in his expression softened your teasing.

As the night unfolded, the five of you gathered around the dining table, the smell of your mom’s cooking filling the air. The conversation flowed easily, laughter punctuating the clinking of silverware. Haechan charmed your parents effortlessly, sharing stories of how you two had grown closer and subtly leaving out the “fake dating” part of your history.

Jeno leaned back in his chair, watching the scene with a satisfied look. His best friend and his sister were happy, his parents were smiling, and for once, everything felt exactly as it should be.

Your dad clapped Haechan on the back after dinner, laughing at one of his jokes. “You’re alright, kid,” he said. “Take care of my daughter, okay?”

“Always,” Haechan replied, his voice full of conviction.

By the time dessert was served, you felt a weight lifting from your chest. Sitting beside Haechan, with his hand resting comfortably on your knee under the table, you realized this was the first time you’d truly felt free. No more hiding, no more stress, no more pretending—just you and him, together, surrounded by the people you loved.

As the night wound down and your mom started clearing plates, Haechan leaned over to you, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “I can’t believe this is real.”

You turned to him, your smile soft. “It is, we don’t have to hide anymore.”

He grinned, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” you replied, feeling the words settle warmly in your chest. Finally, you weren’t scared to say it.

As you glanced around the table, seeing the joy on your parents’ faces and Jeno’s approving nod, you knew this was the start of something beautiful. A life where you and Haechan could love each other openly, honestly, and fully—just as it was always meant to be.

BONUS

Months had passed since that dinner with your parents, and your relationship with Haechan had only grown stronger. Gone were the days of pretending and sneaking around. Now, you could openly love each other, and you savored every moment of it. Tonight was no exception.

The neon lights of the club bathed the group in a kaleidoscope of colors. Music thumped through the air, and laughter echoed as you, Haechan, Jeno, Karina, Mark, and Chenle occupied one of the larger booths. Drinks lined the table, and everyone was in high spirits, swaying to the rhythm of the music or yelling jokes over the pounding bass.

“Here,” Haechan said, sliding a glass across the table to you. “One for the prettiest girl in the room.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, taking the drink. “You’re shameless.”

“You love it,” he teased, leaning in to steal a quick kiss before anyone could interrupt.

“Hey!” Karina exclaimed, pointing her straw at the two of you. “We agreed to keep the PDA to a minimum tonight!”

Haechan shrugged, throwing an arm around your shoulders as he smirked. “What can I say? I can’t help myself.”

You nudged him, trying to suppress a laugh as Jeno and Chenle made exaggerated gagging sounds.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Mark said, grinning as he tipped his drink toward you both. “At least try to make it through one night without making the rest of us single people feel bad.”

“Who’s single?” Karina piped up, earning a round of laughter from everyone at the table.

As the night went on, the group gradually dispersed onto the dance floor. Haechan stayed by your side, his hand never leaving yours. You danced with him among your friends, his playful energy infectious as he twirled you under the flashing lights.

At one point, you found yourselves back at the bar, catching your breath and sipping on water.

“You know,” Haechan said, his tone suddenly lowered as he leaned closer, “you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze. “You’ve told me that about three times already.”

“I’ll say it a hundred more times if I want to,” he replied, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. “Careful, Donghyuck. You’re laying it on a little thick.”

He grinned, leaning in so his lips brushed your ear. “If you think this is thick, wait till I get you alone.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you pushed him lightly, trying to hide the flush on your cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re irresistible,” he quipped, finishing his drink and setting the glass down. “Come on.”

“Where?” you asked, watching as he grabbed your hand and started leading you away from the bar.

“Somewhere we can actually hear each other,” he said with a wink, weaving the two of you through the crowd.

It didn’t take long before you found yourselves in one of the quieter private rooms tucked away in the back of the club. The walls muffled the music just enough, creating a more intimate atmosphere. A small couch and a dim overhead light added to the cozy vibe.

Haechan shut the door behind you, turning to face you with a smirk that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Now this,” he said, stepping closer, “is more like it.”

You laughed, backing up until your legs hit the couch. “So, what’s your plan now that you’ve dragged me back here?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled you into his arms, swaying gently to the faint rhythm of the music that still seeped through the walls. His hands rested on your waist as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice soft.

Your breath caught in your throat, but you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. The two of you moved slowly, completely lost in your own little world.

As the song in the distance changed to something slower, Haechan tilted your chin up, his eyes locking with yours. “You know,” he said, his voice barely audible, “I think this is my favorite place to be—with you.”

Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his words. “Hyuck…”

Before you could say anything else, he closed the gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and electric. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, leaving you breathless.

The world outside faded entirely, leaving only the two of you wrapped up in each other. His fingers traced gentle patterns along your back, and when he pulled away just enough to whisper, “I love you,” his voice was steady and sure.

Your heart swelled, and you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks as you whispered back, “I love you too.”

Haechan grinned, his eyes lighting up with pure joy before he kissed you again, his movements more urgent but still filled with the same passion.

Getting lost in not only the kiss but in his touch you find yourself breathing heavier the closer his lips moved down your neck.

"W-What are you doing?" you asked, a low chuckle escaping your lips despite the tension in the air.

"My girlfriend," he murmured between kisses, his voice low and filled with desire. In that moment, the world beyond the locked door ceased to exist.

With skilled hands, he slipped the straps of your dress off your shoulders, letting them hang low and exposing your already hardened nipples. His eyes raked over you, taking in every detail as though he couldn't believe you were real.

"I'll never get tired of this," he whispered, his voice dripping with awe as his mouth latched onto your left breast, his tongue swirling against your sensitive skin.

A loud moan escaped you, echoing faintly in the private room, but the thundering bass of the music outside was loud enough to drown it out.

"Get loud for me, baby," he urged, his voice teasing and commanding all at once. "I wanna hear how beautiful you sound for me."

His hands slid to your back as he unzipped your dress, letting it pool around your ankles. Without hesitation, he positioned you on the sofa, one of your legs resting over his shoulder as his dark eyes zeroed in on your glistening core.

"Barely did anything, and you're already begging for me," he teased, slipping two fingers inside you with ease, the smirk on his lips widening when your sharp gasp filled the air.

"Haechan... please," you pleaded, your hands gripping the fabric of the couch as your body trembled beneath his touch.

"I'm not done, babe," he murmured, his fingers curling inside you, expertly hitting that sweet spot that made your back arch.

His tongue flicked out, meeting your needy clit as he lavished every inch of you with attention, his lips and tongue working in perfect harmony.

Your moans grew louder, your hips bucking against his mouth as your hands tangled in his hair. He groaned into you, the vibrations driving you wild as he watched you lose control, grinding yourself against him with abandon.

Haechan's free hand wandered to his hardened bulge, brushing over his strained cock that twitched with every sound you made. He bit back a growl, desperate to feel you fully but savoring every moment of your unraveling.

When your release finally washed over you, your scream of his name echoed in the room. Your body shuddered as your juices dripped down his chin, his tongue greedily lapping at everything you gave him.

As you lay there, trying to catch your breath, Haechan rose to his feet, unfastening his belt with swift hands and tugging his pants down to his ankles.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him, your lips parting in awe as you noticed his hard cock, his tip red and aggravated with precum.

He leaned down, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist before gripping your hair gently but firmly. His dark, hungry eyes bore into yours as he spoke, his voice dripping with authority. "You're going to take me right here, right now. I don't want you holding back those pretty moans of yours. Got it?"

You nodded quickly, barely able to speak before he lined himself up and thrust into you with a deep, powerful motion. A low growl escaped his lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"So fucking tight for me," he groaned, his voice rough in your ear. "Always so tight."

His pace started slow but deliberate, each thrust pulling moans from you that sent heat coursing through your entire body. His eyes locked onto yours as he noticed the outline of his protruding length against your stomach.

Grinning, he grabbed your hands and pressed them to it.

"You feel that, baby?" he said, his voice husky. "Soon, I'll fill you up right there. Is that what you want?"

Your sweat-slicked skin glistened as you bit your lip, nodding feverishly. "Yes! Please, Donghyuck, I want you to fill me up with every drop!"

His thrusts quickened, each one deeper and more relentless as his free hand trailed up to cup your throat. "That's my girl," he praised, his voice thick with desire as he watched you fall apart beneath him.

When your walls began to flutter and clench around him, his groan turned into a deep growl. "Donghyuck!" you cried out, your nails digging into his back as your release crashed over you.

He wasn't far behind. His hips stuttered as his grip tightened, his eyes rolling back as he spilled himself inside you, his body trembling with the force of his climax. Even as he came, he rocked his hips, ensuring every last part of him stayed buried deep within you.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sounds of your labored breathing.

Haechan's forehead rested against yours as his hand moved to brush damp strands of hair from your face.

"Round two at my place?" he asked, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

Your laugh echoed softly as you cupped his face, your gaze filled with warmth. "Only if we manage to sneak away without getting caught."

"Say less." He grinned, standing to pull his pants back on before helping you dress. His hands lingered a little too long on your hips, his touch still filled with the passion of the moment.

Hand in hand, the two of you slipped out of the private room, sharing whispered laughs and conspiratorial smiles as you made your way through the club and out into the cool night air.

You felt completely free, the chaos of the night left behind as you escaped into a world where it was just you and him. Together, you'd already won a lifetime of love

‧˚⭒ taglist: @jaeminnanaaa17 @scoobysnackszoo @1800-jigglemywiggle @karmasbestie @cathamada @yoursyuno @oneeew @serenedreamscape @moryymor @yesohhsehun @dnihyuck @doyotint @kodasity @rainverry

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midnighvtm4ss · 2 days ago

Text

Oh you sweet, poisonous thing

summary: just Arthur yearning and being jealous of reader and Javier. Enjoy😽

pairing: arthur morgan x fem!reader

content: fluff, jealousy, a hint of angst maybe ?? idk

wc: 1,8k

a/n: *taps into the mic* heyy,,, how y’all doing *voice echoes, crickets can be heard in the distance* so i kinda disappeared from tumblr ik. I went through a rough period and I thought a lot about what to do with this account. I lost all motivation to write for a while ngl, but after some thinking i decided that no matter what I’ll keep writing and posting here. After all this was and still is my little safe space where i can just forget about my life and post silly things about cowboys sooo yeah have some Arthur yearning because we should bring back yearning in 2025. ok i yapped enough bah byee

The cracking sound of the campfire travels softly in the center of camp, casting long, flickering shadows that stretch and shift over the familiar faces of the gang, dancing on their features to the sound of the soft music leaving Javier’s guitar.

It had been a rare, uneventful day—the kind where, surprisingly, nothing went wrong, and the world seemed to hold its breath afraid to burst the serene and quiet bubble that engulfed all round the camp. The stillness settled over the gang’s members like a balm, soothing old wounds and lifting everyone’s spirits. By evening, an easy carefree air had taken root, boosted by a few shared drinks and Javier’s guitar.

You sit near the fire, sandwiched between Karen and John, the blonde slouched lazily at your side, her cheeks flushed from the too many whiskey glasses she downed. Javier is in a contagious good mood, sitting on the ground near John strumming another lively tune as he leans toward you, his bronze skin glowing in the campfire’s light and he’s grinning like at you like the charmer he is.

“Why don’t you sing with me, cariño,” he says, his voice playfully teasing. A chorus of groans and exaggerated complaints come from around the campfire, the gang all too eager to tease you about the first and fortunately the last time you sang around the campfire in Horseshoe Overlook after you had too many to drink. You remember waking up the morning after with a terrible headache and the sweet memory of laughter shared around the warmth of the campfire.

You laugh at their reaction, shaking your head. “I think I’ll save everyone’s ears this time, thank you.”

Javier chuckles and with that resumes playing, his voice low and smooth. His energy is infectious, pulling easy smiles and a few soft laughs from everyone. But in the back of your mind, you can feel that there’s a subtle shift in the air—a pull, a presence that tugs at your attention like a ping you can’t ignore. It’s faint at first, almost imperceptible, but it grows stronger, undeniable, familiar. You glance toward the edge of camp, and as suspected there he is.

He’s leaning against one of the wooden posts near the horses, half swallowed by the shadows, the dim firelight barely reaching the brim of his worn hat. His broad shoulders are hunched, arms crossed tightly over his chest like he’s trying to protect himself, to keep something away though you’re not sure he even knows what it is. His aqua eyes are sharp even in the shadows, and they’re fixed directly on you.

As the weight of his gaze settles over you like a heavy fog, thick and tangible, despite the distance between you, a shiver runs down your spine. Your chest tightens, as if the very air around him has thickened with unspoken things.

You’ve known him long enough to feel a quiet storm building in the depths of his quiet, unshakable composure. It’s not indifference nor anger. It’s something else—something raw and unspoken but you can’t, and maybe won’t, put a name on it.

When Javier nudges you playfully, you force yourself to focus back on him, offering him a smile that you hope conceals the tension swirling inside of you. Still, the weight of Arthur’s gaze doesn’t leave you, not even as the evening stretches on.

As the night deepens, the fire crackles low. One by one, people begin to drift off, leaving just you, Tilly, Lenny, Javier, and Karen around the fire. Tilly, who had joined your little circle a few hours earlier, is lively chatting with Lenny about some gossip she’d overheard in town, her voice bright with excitement seemingly unphased by the late hour. Meanwhile, Karen has fallen asleep with her head resting on your shoulder, undoubtedly drooling a bit on your blouse. This leaves you and Javier alone, the conversation between you two flowing easily, until he eventually sets his guitar aside with a stretch, breaking the comfortable atmosphere.

“Already going to bed ?” you tease, nudging him gently on the side. “Won’t you play me another song before you go to sleep ?”

He smirks, shaking his head with a wink.

“Tomorrow.” He promises winking at you. He stands up and disappears into the shadows of the night. After a few minutes Karen stirs awake, mumbling something about needing another drink before bed, lazily getting up on her feet, shuffling toward the camp’s supply.

After that it’s just you, Tilly and Lenny sitting near the dying fire. From your peripheral vision you can see the dark silhouette of Arthur sitting at the worn wooden round table under the tall tree in camp. You don’t look at him, not directly, but you feel his presence like a thread pulling between you. You sit there, looking at the fire contemplating if approaching him or calling it a night.

When you finally stand, your feet move before your mind can catch up with your actions. You carefully walk towards him, finding him hunched slightly over the table, his broad shoulders tense as he stares down into the nearly empty glass in his hand.

“Mind if I join you ?” you say pausing a few feet away. The sound of your voice softly filling the cold air around you both.

Arthur doesn’t immediately look up, his focus still fixed on the amber liquid swirling in his glass. You nearly contemplate leaving when after a long moment, he tips his head in a slow, deliberate nod. “Suit yourself.”

You take a seat across from him, your hands folding in your lap playing with a few loose threads as you settle into the quiet. For a long moment, neither of you speak. The noise of the evening has faded away, leaving the camp wrapped in the soft rustle of trees and the distant sound of crickets.

“Tired ?” you finally ask, your voice hesitant, breaking the silence.

Arthur huffs a low breath, his eyes never leaving the glass. “Long day,” he mutters, a simple response that tells you nothing.

You nod, though his answer feels like a wall, a quick, easy way to avoid revealing something deeper. There’s something bothering him, and maybe it’s the alcohol in your system or maybe you simply care too much for him but you’re determined to find out what.

“Javier kept everyone entertained tonight,” you say lightly, your words casual, trying to spark a conversation, though you’re watching him closely.

Arthur’s grip on his glass tightens just enough for his knuckles to go pale against the clear glass. “Yeah,” he replies, his tone flat. “He’s good at that.”

The space between you feels heavier now, filled with something unspoken, a tension that neither of you acknowledges directly. You lean back in your chair, letting the silence settle between you, but you can’t ignore the flicker of his eyes as they meet yours, then quickly shift away like he’s afraid of what might show if he stares at yours too long.

“What’re you drinking ?” you ask after a moment, breaking the quiet.

“Whiskey.”

“‘S that the good whiskey Pearson’s been hiding, or the usual watered down crap ?”

Arthur’s lips twitch, almost imperceptibly, clearly fighting a smile. “Usual crap,” he murmurs. “Pearson ain’t that generous.”

You laugh softly, the sound easing some of the tension that’s built between you. But still, it lingers, just beneath the surface, like something you both know but can’t put into words.

“You seemed quiet tonight,” you say after a pause, studying him closely.

Arthur shrugs, lifting his glass to his lips, the movement slow, as if every motion is carefully measured.

“Didn’t feel like talkin’.”

You watch him, your gaze tracing the line of his jaw, his wet lips and the way his fingers absently trace the rim of his glass. He’s not being completely honest—that much you know, but you’ve learned to read between the spaces of his words.

“Or maybe you just didn’t like the company,” you offer, your tone playful but with an edge to it.

Arthur’s eyes snap to yours, sharp and unmoving. “I didn’t say that,” he replies, his voice low, almost a growl.

He holds your gaze a beat longer than necessary, and you feel the weight of it settle deep in your chest, making your breath hitch. There’s something in his eyes, something raw, vulnerable that makes your heart stutter. You’re not sure if he sees how your composure falters, but he’s the first to look away, tipping his hat lower over his brow to shield his expression. You’ve always hated when he does that—you’ve always hated the way he uses it to put a distance between you, but now more than ever you hate it because it feels like the wall between you is growing thicker and you’re not sure if you can get through anymore.

“You’re a hard man to figure out Arthur Morgan,” you say softly, the teasing edge gone from your voice.

He doesn’t answer right away, and when he does, it’s in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

You bite your lower lip in frustration but then you force yourself to swallow down your disappointment. The conversation shifts then, moving toward more trivial things like the weather, the horses, Pearson’s latest disaster with the stew. But even as you talk, you know that there’s another conversation happening in the spaces between words, in the glances you exchange, in both your body language, in the way the silence sometimes wraps itself around you both.

You don’t speak of it. You don’t name it. Neither of you can, but you know it’s there.

“Good night Arthur,” you say, your voice quieter than you intended. You give him a sweet smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, before you stand, the weight of your own tiredness forcing you to seek the sweet embrace of your bed.

He doesn’t reply right away, just gives a slow tip of his hat. “Night.”

As you start to take a few steps away from the table, you feel his gaze on your back—steady, unwavering. It feels like it’s burning into your skin.

You glance over your shoulder, just once, and meet his eyes. For a moment, they’re distant, almost lost, like he’s somewhere far away in thought. But as your gaze lingers, you catch something else, something in the way his eyes soften, the barely perceptible softening of his eyebrows. It’s not a look of anger or frustration that he gives you, no, he’s looking at you with something deeper, something raw.

It’s the kind of look that makes your chest tighten, a sweet warmth settling between your ribs. He doesn’t need to say anything, you can feel it in the glance between you—the weight of all the things neither of you will dare to speak aloud.

In that brief moment, you understand. And it’s enough to leave you walking away with butterflies storming in your stomach and the strange sense that you’ve just shared something deep, something fragile with him without ever needing to say a word.

#.rira’s posting ౨ৎ ⋆#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fic #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead fandom #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 arthur morgan

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endursent · 23 hours ago

Note

WHAT IF astral express sunday would be too nervous to hold readers hand or hugging them bc his brain goes 💥 until he gets used to it and softens up to reader waa 🎉🎉

HES SO SILLY i want him to explode

【 content; sunday x reader , astral express sunday , fluff , character exploration, mild suggestiveness in one section , gn!reader 】

【 note; see sunday mention. NEURON ACTIVATED. i have neglected sunday writing for too long, it's time to sunday post more. 】

【 word count; 1.818 | read on ao3 | masterlist 】

Even after properly defining your relationship as “definitely happening”, Sunday still struggles to adjust to it—not because he doesn’t know what to do specifically, but because he fails to follow through with a lot of it.

As soon as he meets your eyes and feels the warmth of your skin at the same time, his brain halts in place like a deer caught in headlights—something about the affection and love in your gaze causes him to freeze, to hesitate and draw back.

He wants to enjoy that warmth, he wants to touch your cheek and gaze into your eyes for hours on end, examining every detail of your iris until he has it mapped better than the back of his own hand… but his heart tightens and his arms tingle when he tries.

He’s afraid, scared to overstep thresholds whose doors have long since opened wide for his presence. Afraid to take a wrong turn in the endless hallways of his thoughts and what-ifs.

You don’t push him, you give him time to consider his movement and actions and proceed in the ways he feels comfortable—but you don’t let him pull back too far either. You grasp his hand as it pulls too close to his chest and he swallows when you bring it to yours, you press his palm against your chest and allow him to feel your heartbeat—quickened, excited, yet nervous as well. Sometimes, you’re also nervous. It’s okay to hesitate.

Mere moments like brushing his fingers against yours on accident are enough for his head-wings to shoot up into the air. You had simply been reaching for a pistachio in a bowl on a table where you sat with Sunday next to you, and he had coincidentally reached out as well. “A-ah, my apologies,” he pulls his hand back, wings lowering again as one moves halfway up his cheek in a meagre attempt to disguise the dusty red of his cheeks.

A small smile tugs on your lips and you take an additional nut to give to him. “It’s okay, here.” He holds his palm open for you to place the pistachio in, but instead of doing so, you peel the shell away with a click and hold it towards his lips. “Open up.”

Five or so muscles in his face twitch as he leans back, surprised by your sudden approach and the very intimate gesture of trying to feed him—his eyes flicker to the left where Himeko is positively destroying March 7th in a card game, they’re not paying any attention to the two of you at all.

Sunday’s lips press together and for a moment you wonder if you might have pushed him a little too far, the red hue of his cheeks deepening as he avoids your eyes… and opens his mouth, just a little—barely enough to fit the small pistachio there.

Your fingers touch his lips as you manage to set the pistachio on the tip of his tongue hiding only a little behind the bottom row of his teeth, and Sunday thinks he might explode. The way his upper lip lifted a little and a small drop of drool slid under his tongue—thankfully out of sight but definitely not out of mind—when your finger pushed under it to set the nut in his mouth…

He swallows the pistachio quickly and nervously without chewing it and it almost stops in his throat before he could even realise what he was doing. Sunday might have just perished from embarrassment before the lack of oxygen would kill him were the pistachio to stop in his throat.

Sunday hasn’t stepped off the Express in a while, he does so rather often, all things considered—usually choosing to at least peek out at the worlds you explore. After all, how can he find himself if he doesn’t look?

But he has never experienced a planet like this… you could convince him this is some intergalactically funded horror exhibition if you tried. Long stretches of trees and branches reach into the skies, casting dark shadows on the dull grass that covers the ground as far as one can see. The skies are dark when you hop off the train and practically drag Sunday along.

He walks close to you, unsure if to reassure himself of your presence among the shadows, or to be ready to give his assistance were you to catch your foot on a root and crash on the ground—you’re walking so fast he can't help but think it’s just a matter of time.

You feel something touch your thumb and look down, only to see Sunday’s gloved hand retreat. He’s looking ahead and pretending there is nothing strange happening. “Are you scared?” you wonder, tilting your head to get a better look at his face.

A small frown tugs at his lips, so faint you could barely see it. “Of course not, but I am concerned about us getting lost—do you know where we’re going?”

“Kind of,” you sway your hand a little, seeing if you can fish at where he has retracted his to. “Pom-Pom mentioned there a huge city not far from where we dropped down, this world has some real good puddings if I read right.”

Sunday merely hums in response, following you along. You did finally find the city—high buildings made of darkened wood, but with bright lanterns and strings of lights hanging between buildings to illuminate the streets in a comfortable orange. All the ambiance needs is rain (and for you two be inside a nice café) and it’s perfect.

The streets, however, are a labyrinth.

You get lost only seven minutes after reaching the city, and no matter how you squinted at your phone, you couldn’t wrap your head around the map—and it doesn’t help that despite the darkness, it’s midday, and thus the streets and crowded near shoulder-to-shoulder. This place must be popular despite the gloomy atmosphere.

Having almost lost sight of you wandering around trying to get your bearings in the crowd, Sunday gathers his courage and stomps down his thoughts—and takes your hand.

You stop where you’re going and turn to look at him. “Hm? Is something wrong?”

He still avoids your eyes, but his grip is firm. “You’re… still going in the wrong direction.”

“I am?” you look back down to your phone and tilt it sideways. “Ah! Like this, I get it now… I think.”

Sunday sighs, stepping closer to you as a person shoulder past your positions—and suddenly the two of you are standing far closer than planned, nearly pressed against the wall of a building that leads to the corner of the street. He can’t stop thinking about your hand against his gloved one, and he also can’t help but notice that your fingers feel cold.

As you try to figure out the best path towards the mythical pudding, holding your phone out for Sunday to see as well, his fingers and palm engulf yours and try to move some of his heat to you. His thumb rubs over your palm as you speak and the lack of proper reaction from you, yet still laying your hand out to him, helps him find the gesture more natural and comfortable… something he wouldn’t mind indulging in more often.

Sunday is a very passive person when it comes to affections, he’s rarely the one to reach out first and needs a bit of a push to even come up with romantic gestures. He considers the time you spend together and the understanding between you to be much more precious and indicative of his affections.

However, he gets an idea one time from something he saw when scrolling his phone… to leave notes around. Sunday wasn’t sure of it at first—and a little embarrassed that someone else might find them before you do—but gradually began to find it as an easy way to show his attention.

Sometimes, the notes have a small message on them (mostly reminding you to sleep more) but other times, there’s no message at all. He came to use it as a ‘I thought of you’ message, where he leaves a blank, small post-it on something.

One time you forgot to buy new toothpaste on the Express’ most recent stop and dreaded having to borrow from someone again—until you opened the drawer to fetch your toothbrush and saw a full tube with a small blue post-it on it… now you need to go over to his room and rub his cheeks and thank him for remembering your complaints about always forgetting to buy a new one.

Sunday is a surprisingly good caretaker, you caught some sort of cold or flu on a recent trip off the express and have been miserable in bed for days. Up and down, hot and cold, snot-filled and gross on all ends. But he sits down by your bedside and takes your temperature, lays the back of his hand against your heated skin and does all he can to help.

One aspect he struggled with was when you got whiny one evening and reached out for a hug…

While you might mistake his hesitation for disgust, as you are snot-nosed, puffy eyed and half crying from misery—it’s far from what was on his mind. But Sunday feels his chest tighten at the sight of you so miserable, temporary as it is, and he doesn’t have the heart to refuse your embrace.

He leans down and lets you wrap your arms around his shoulders, your clammy forehead rubbing into his shirt as he stiffly pats your head and tries to soothe you. “It’s alright… your fever is going down, you’ll be okay soon, just remember to drink the water on the nightstand, okay?” he mumbles by your ear, and the more you nod and thank him for taking care of you, the more his muscles ease and he shifts a bit to lay down with you, allowing you to burrow into the crook of his neck and find comfort in his presence.

Sunday rests his chin over your head and rubs your back. “Would you like me to sing for you?”

You nod into his shoulder and he closes his mouth to hum familiar tunes, the beginning of a familiar song as the vibrations in his chest rumble against you. His voice is soothing, and his singing is surprisingly soft and gentle.

As you drift to well-needed sleep, Sunday stays with you until he’s certain you’ve fallen asleep… and then for a while more, just long enough that he can’t imagine tearing himself away from you—or risking waking you up by rising from the bed. Perhaps it’s alright if he stays the night here, after all, he needs to make sure you hydrate through the night.

#sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday #sunday hsr #honkai star rail #my writing #fics #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #fluff

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anastasia12 · 2 days ago

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lower your inhibitions

lower your inhibitions ; simon “ghost” riley.

You love Simon, you really do.

How could you not? How could you not fall for him? He’s the one who rescued you from a fate worse than death, the one who washes your body for you even though the both of you know that you’re fully capable of showering alone (he loves you so much, he’s constantly craving to touch you in any way he can), the one who took apart one of his honorary medals for his services and melted it down so it could be manipulated and turned into the band on your engagement ring.

(Did you know that the medal he used is the one he got from the mission where you two first met, the fateful mission where he both saved and changed your whole entire life?)

And you know that Simon would do absolutely anything for you. He whispers it to you in the dead of night, holding you so close to his chest like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. He lets you be the one who removes his mask, and if he can do something so intimately vulnerable, then you suppose you can do this for him.

This is giving into one of his latest fantasies, one that he’s been hinting at for quite some time now.

You know that his line of work is difficult at best and life-threatening all the time. You know that he bears a heavy burden on his shoulders — it’s not just his weaponry and equipment that weighs him down, but the fact that so many lives are resting in his hands. You do your best to relieve him of any stress when he gets home: a warm meal waiting for him, fresh clothes set out for him to change into, long nights where you spend all your time and energy determined to give him the reward he deserves for being a hero.

He mentions it in passing, usually when you’re so far gone in the throes of pleasure that you don’t even consciously acknowledge his little comments. Sneaky bastard; he’s been making sure it stays ingrained in your subconscious, though.

Baby, I could spend forever here. You’re certain that’s what he was groaning out the last time you had spread your legs for him and allowed him to eagerly lap at your pussy. You’re not entirely too sure, though — the only thing you can clearly remember through the foggy haze of intense passion was the feeling of him pleasuring you with just his mouth and bringing you to climax on his tongue at least twice that night.

You can only imagine what he must have planned for you tonight.

You’re sure that Simon has an insane amount of stamina as a result of his work. The only thing keeping you, his little soon-to-be housewife, still alive from all of these little entanglements is the fact that you love him enough to do anything he asks of you. So when he tells you that the only thing that’ll help him take his mind off of his latest assignment is to have you sitting on his face, you oblige.

According to him, this is a foolproof plan because only an idiot would be thinking about something else when he’s got the prettiest pussy in the world on top of him.

You could feel your face heating up at his vulgar compliment, but you’re not entirely innocent. The heat was building up towards the lower half of your body after that comment, too.

And now you find yourself nervously straddling your fiance, looking into his eyes.

“You know where you need to be, pretty girl,” His voice is already thick with arousal, and you recognize that hungry glint in his eyes. You pray to anyone out there who’s listening to pretty please give you the strength to survive tonight.

“B-but Simon—” You’re whispering, even though this house is the only residence in the area. (Thank God for that; if the two of you had neighbors, they surely would have filed a noise complaint.)

“Yes, my love?” You can recognize the teasing tone in his voice, and you can hear the smirk he must be wearing on his face.

“How am I supposed to… You know, get on your face and let you do what you want when your mask is still on?”

His infamous balaclava with the skull design etched onto the fabric seems to taunt you. It doesn’t scare you, especially since you’re well aware of who the man behind the mask truly is, but you can’t quite figure out why he hasn’t taken it off yet.

“Oh. I didn’t tell you yet?” He has to be smiling underneath the mask because your reaction to his next words is enough to have him chuckling.

“I’m not eating you out ‘til you’re so wet for me that I can feel you dripping through the mask.”

You immediately freeze up, wondering if he truly means what he just said.

(It’s Simon; of course, he meant every word of it.)

“Sweetheart, I thought you were going to be a good girl for me tonight.” The disapproval he douses his words with isn’t real — you know he’s just trying to tease you because it’s what he loves to do. Still, you find yourself nodding your head and slowly but surely making your way up his resting body before you find yourself hovering uncertainly above his face.

You let out an adorable little yelp of surprise as he suddenly grips the back of your thighs and forces you down on his mask-covered face. For a man his size, the strength isn’t surprising, but it’s his stealth and dexterity that always catches you off guard.

“Can’t wait to taste you.” His voice sounds muffled now due to the pressure being applied to his mouth, and you can feel the slight movements of his mouth despite the thick fabric of his balaclava acting as a barrier between you and him. His eyes are already deepening with desire, and you swallow hard, knowing that it’ll please him if you truly give it your all. You’ve known him for what feels like forever, and you’re engaged to the man. There’s no more room for shyness to take root in this relationship.

It’s time for you to lower your inhibitions.

Your first movements are a bit uncertain, but his groan of appreciation acts as reassurance. You move back and forth slowly, carefully grinding against the mask, and occasionally, your clit will brush against the covered tip of his nose, only adding to your pleasure and allowing you to give into your depravity without worry.

“Just like that, love. You’re doing so well for me.” You can barely make out the words he’s saying, but you give him a shaky smile as you continue to grind against him, your hands finding purchase on the pillow he’s resting his head on. You grip it, trying to hold yourself steady as you continue to buck against him, your arousal practically leaking out of you, a constant stream of juices that is soaking through the fabric, leaving a distinct wet stain on the front of it.

Simon grins at a mission successfully accomplished. Not only can he feel your arousal through the mask, but you’re so soaked for him that he’s certain he can taste you already, too.

One strong hand grips your waist, pausing your jerky movements, and you look down, blinking and trying to ground yourself into reality. You watch as he uses his other hand to tear off the balaclava, tossing it somewhere on the floor of your shared bedroom.

His chin and lips are already shining just the slightest — just how wet for him are you? He gives you a cheeky grin, and you’re still so close to him that when he speaks, his lips brush against your slick folds.

“Don’t stop now, darling. You promised you’d sit on my face.”

He’s so close to helping you get rid of the ache in between your legs, and you find yourself lowering yourself fully, your soft thighs encasing his head, and your soaking cunt landing right on his mouth. You’re already leaking all the way down to his chin, and his groans of pleasure only serve to make you even wetter.

He can’t speak right now; not when he’s too occupied with the meal you’ve so generously decided to grace him with. The room is filled with the obscene sounds of him lapping up everything you’re spilling out.

His tongue slides through your entrance with ease, and you moan in ecstasy, throwing your head back as you start to instinctually buck against his face, practically riding his tongue.

He’s sucking up your arousal, eager to please you but also insanely happy at the position he’s finally in. This is exactly what he needed: pure, unadulterated access to your pussy. Your thighs are surrounding him, and he uses both hands to squeeze harshly at your ass. The slight pain only makes you squeal and jerk up just the slightest, but he growls before forcing you back down on his face, right where you belong.

The ministrations of his tongue are entirely too much. The noises the two of you are making sounds as if the two of you are filming a porno, and you know you can’t last much longer.

Using both of your hands, your fingers curl into the thick locks of his hair, tugging just enough to him groan against your pussy, and you mewl out his name as you cum all over his face.

Your body feels like jelly; this isn’t the first time that Simon has fucked you boneless before, but this orgasm was intense. You think you can still feel some aftershocks of it, and you moan out weakly as you struggle to remain in your seated position on his face.

He’s still lapping everything up, his tongue still exploring every centimeter of yourself you have to offer him. After that climax, your poor pussy is feeling too sensitive, and every time he slightly moves his head, his nose continues to bump against your clit. You’re ultra-aware of every movement of his, extra susceptible to every flick of his tongue and the pleasure is only painfully heightened. You’re too weak to fight him off and while giving in will surely leave you unable to leave the bed all day tomorrow, you can’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop.

“Si-mon.” You whine out his name, but it comes out garbled and broken. Your mind doesn’t know how to react to the constant pleasure he’s inflicting on you and your sensitive little cunt. Your body, though, is eager to receive more of what he has to offer. It’s evident in the way your hole starts to clench around nothing every time he teasingly withdraws his tongue to force you to beg him for more. Even though you feel like you’re unable to move, you still find enough strength left in you to grind against him, rubbing your pussy and spreading your slick all over his face before you cum once again, this one leaving you all the more disorientated.

His visage is a sight to behold: cheeks are flushed red, eyes wild and dark with desire, the lower half of his face stained with your cum and arousal. You should be embarrassed at what a mess you’ve made of your fiance, but he only licks his lips. His eyes almost roll back as he realizes the taste of you will forever be on his tastebuds.

“Taste so good, love.” He gasps out. His hair is messy from the way you’ve shamelessly tugged at his locks. “I need more. You gonna give it to me?”

You’re nodding, but he doesn’t even wait for your affirmation before forcing you down onto his mouth once again.

He wasn’t lying when he made the claim that he could live in between your legs forever. After tonight, you know you’re never going to deny him the chance to prove it, though.

comment if you want your @ in heree

#call of duty #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost cod #cod smut #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #cod

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cvnt4him · 22 hours ago

Note

okay, how do we feel on squirting on izuku? hear me out now—

UA dorms, 3rd year, everyone is 18+!!!!!

you and izuku are having a midnight fuck sesh cause it’s quite literally the ONLY time y’all get to be sexually intimate so things are REALLY hot & heavy. I’m talkin’ like having to hold in moans to not wake your neighbors up, the bed is creaking, you had to put a pillow in between the headboard because it was making too much noise, sweating everywhere and izuku has to keep making out with you so y’all can get your moans out quietly!! 🫣

and all of a sudden after izuku moves his hips slightly, you just start squirting EVERYWHERE, like your soaking his bed and you have to moan into a pillow cause it felt so good 😵‍💫

“Did…Did i make you…?”

“..yes…yes you..did..haa..”

“Can i..keep going?I-I haven’t came yet..”

“Yes baby, please keep fucking me…!”

and then just proceeds to overstimulate you while your whining and moaning into his mouth and scratching on his back.

do what you will with this information 🥸

-🩸

I kinda free balled even though you literally told me what you wanted lol, I hope this is to your liking my loveᡣ𐭩

It was after midnight, you were at least sure all of your dorm neighbors were lying down if not asleep by the time you went over to izukus dorm.

You and your boyfriend haven't been able to explore each other's body in so long given you're in your last year of highschool which means not only will things become more advanced but you have even less time to get all of the things done. With all the stress of colleges and your futures taking over your brains you two only had time to text each other 'good morning' 'goodnight' and 'I love you'

It hurt you but none of that mattered anymore, you were finally in your boyfriend's arms after so long. This was the only time you two had together let alone to be intimate with one another you had to take advantage of it.

Izuku had your face shoved into the pillows and your back arched painfully you can hear him groaning above you, his eyes squeezed shut as he slammed his cock inside of you repeatedly.

His thick cock forcing its way into your gushing pussy. The way you squeezed around him had his head rolling back he couldn't take it. He'd already cum inside of you about 2 times given how long it's been since he'd felt your tight wet walls, the thought of them alone had him busting a nut.

You heard his gutteral moans being hushed by his face being buried in your shoulders he began biting them harshly causing you to scream into the pillows, luckily for you they were quite scream proof izuku made sure of that when he bought them.

“ ....ohh...~ you sweet thing... ngh- need it s’bad huh? hmmn. c'mon cum in my cock baby..”

The way he whispered in your ear, so dirty yet so sweet. He was never rough with you but he couldn't help himself fucking you as if you're some cheap fleshlight he needed all that he could take. His hands coming down to harshly grip the flesh of your ass before slapping it making your back arch and your ass grind back onto his cock.

He loved the feeling of you fucking him back, throwing your ass back onto his cock while he tried shoving it deeper inside. The bed creaking with each rough motion of you thrusting back against him, izuku groans at the sticky sounds of the two of you thinking he should've put a pillow behind his headboard someone was definitely going to complain!

“ ngh..! give it t’me, give it t’me zuku— need it s’bad- ugh...”

Your words were coming out muffled and sloppy you were losing your mind with how sensitive you were, you'd come so many times its as if it was happening all on its own. You couldn't control it anymore letting him split you in half on his cock while you lost your mind.

“ let me.....huff....let me flip you over baby.. wanna look at’cha when I fuck you.”

You hum and with that he pulled out causing you to whine, he instantly flipped you over into your back to get a good look at your soiled face. Tears streaming down and spit down your jaw, your eyes were glossy and you could hardly see all you wanted was to hold your strong boyfriend.

You heard him shakily sigh above you, lining his sticky and cum covered cock back up with your dripping cunt, cum leaking out of it and creating a ring around his cock as he quickly shoved it in causing you to jolt upward into him, he instantly leaned down and held you locking lips with you to sustain your whine and moans you were shaking in his arms and your spit was slowly leaking down both your chins.

Izuku sat inside of you for a moment letting you convulse around his cock, this was more for him than it was for you. The feeling of your nasty icky cunt spasming around his twitching veiny cock had his mind melting just as much as yours. He was trying his hardest not to fall apart inside of you but God was it hard with you squeezing him tighter than anything he's ever had.

Izuku gulped down hardly and slowly jerked his hips up into you there was something inside of you, a coil that just snapped your head was thrown back and you couldn't help but to moan aloud izuku was too late to catch it pitchy moans echoing through his room you had started squirting all over his cock your eyes were rolling and your mind was completely blank.

Izuku was in utter awe with you, gasping lightly as his cock only began plugging you deeper with how thick it was, your juices were spraying all over his abdomen and his bed you would be embarrassed if you were coherent and understood what was going on around you. Izuku rubbed your thigh and cooed sweet words to you telling you how proud of you he was.

“ awh honey.... m’ so proud of you baby, did so good f’me.”

“ do...do you want me to keep going...? can I? I wanna cum again...”

You nod your head at his words hardly even understanding any of them. With that he took all that he had and began thrusting into you once more, not as rough as he once was but just enough to get him there and to have you squealing into his chest tears wetting him as your body rocks with his arms wrapping around his back and scratching his back harshly.

His back arched into you a wince leaving him as he sped up, hips stuttering into yours. The nasty slaps of skin filling the air along with your hiccups and moans and his low groans. The bed creaking faster with his movements.

“ sh...shit baby..! m’gna cum inside of you... fuck-!”

Giving it all he could with a couple sloppy messy thrusts, he came inside of you hard and deep. His moans turned into high pitched whines his cock was twitching so much and you were squeezing him so tightly after he'd already cum he couldn't help squeezing your hips tightly making you wince and squirm.

You felt his shaky breath fan over your neck as your face was buried in his chest drool getting all over him as he just collapsed on top of you not even bothering to pull out. His poor cock was too thick for you to push out so you just sat there plugged and fucked full of cum.

The next day you were both told by your teacher that izuku had many complaints from his neighbors due to loud squeaking that sounded as if someone was being murdered. You both had detention for the rest of the year and were BANNED from going near each other's dorm and would be kicked out of U.A if caught in the other's room.

Was it truly worth it....

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katsu28 · 1 day ago

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summer's golden haze - chapter five

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a day trip to ibiza, a nightclub, and max—who can't keep his mouth shut. (5.3k)

a/n: apologies for the lack of new chapters these past few months! writer’s block is such a bitch but i’m happy to say that i am back and working on this series as best i can <3

previous chapter | masterlist

Everything people say about time flying when you’re having fun has never been truer. You’ve developed a close friendship with Lando and his friends, and something even better with the boy himself.

You’d say you were surprised at how fast you’ve fallen for him, but you’d be lying. Sure, you haven’t known him long at all, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that Lando Norris really was that missing thing in your life. He slots in like he was meant to, just as you hoped he would.

You’ve all found yourselves spending more time at their place than yours because it’s just nicer. Today is no different.

Lando’s chin sits hooked over your shoulder comfortably, stubble on his face a little scratchy, but it doesn’t annoy you. Especially not with the way the thumb of his hand on your waist is rubbing circles into the sliver of bare skin between your top and shorts.

He’s warm to the touch, but not unbearably so, more like a comforting warmth draped against you as he nuzzles closer.

He likes to be close to you, you've learned very quickly—more often than not always having some part of him touching you. Fingers intertwined with yours, an arm slung over your shoulders, a hand on your waist. When you're sitting, it's a thigh pressed against yours, a warm palm blanketing your knee.

Right now, he’s decided on sharing the same sun lounger as you, wedged himself in behind you comfortably.

Normally, you might’ve been put off by the sheer amount of casual physical affection he shows, but you can’t bring yourself to mind it. You want to be close to him all the time too, you’re just taking a little longer to warm up to instigating it.

“What’re you lot up to tomorrow?” He asks casually, walking his fingers down your arm.

“Mm, nothing probably. Might just do a beach day and chill out. Maybe take a little walk, I dunno.” You shrug. “You?”

“Flying to Ibiza for the day. My mate Martin’s doing a DJ thing at a club there, figured we’d go support a friend.”

You pout up at him, cooing. “You guys are so sweet.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Come off it now.” He rolls his eyes, pinching your hip. You squirm at the ticklish feeling, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. He perks up then, and you swear you can almost see the gears turning in his brain. “Would you guys wanna come with us? We could hit up the beach together, hit up Martin’s gig at night, then fly back here afterwards.”

“It’s a boys’ day trip, we wouldn’t want to crash it,” You insist, shaking your head. “We’ll see each other when you get back.”

“But I’ll miss you.” He frowns, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I think you’ll be fine.”

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck, muffling his response. “No, I think I might die.”

It’s kind of sweet, you think, that Lando gets so pouty over not getting to see you for just a day. One might call him clingy, but you find it cute.

You attest it to the two of you still being in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, and it makes you happy, but something else gnaws at your stomach. You’re not even sure what it is.

Before you can say anything, he angles his head towards the rest of the group, covering your ears gently before shouting, “Oi! We’re all going to Ibiza tomorrow, it’s been settled already. We’ll swing round yours to pick you girls up, then head to the airport.”

He gets no objections from anyone, which you didn’t think he would, and it makes him beam.

You try to see it from his perspective. Sun, sand, beautiful views. The two of you get to spend the day together on the gorgeous beaches of Ibiza. If you put aside your worries, everything sounds wonderful.

So why do you have this nagging feeling this isn't going to go as smoothly as Lando says it will?

-------

It seems like you’ve just blinked and suddenly it’s the next morning and you’re heading into the hangar of a private airstrip.

The sun has barely begun to peek over the horizon, and honestly, you’re still half asleep. Most of your weight is leaned against Lando’s shoulder, who’s got a strong arm slung around your waist even as he chats away with his boys on the way in.

You haven’t packed much at all, just a bag with a nicer outfit you can change into before going to the club. Lando insisted on carrying it for you, so it sits looped over his other shoulder.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting when he’d brought up flying to Ibiza just for the day, but for some reason, the private jet your gaze lands on as soon as you enter the hangar has you a bit stunned for words. The unfamiliarity of your surroundings wakes you up even more as you ascend the stairs onto the jet.

A long sofa stretches across the wall opposite you, sleek white leather to match the cushy armchair you’ve settled into. Elegant polished dark wood tables separate the banks of chairs, and there’s a fully stocked bar at the back. Even the lighting of the cabin screams money, not those awful dim blue lights on commercial airlines.

This is the kind of thing you’ve only seen in movies, and now here you are about to enjoy a few hours on one with your very new, very rich boyfriend. It feels unreal, and honestly a little daunting.

Then in the back of your mind, you remember that this is probably just how his life is. Private jets and day trips to beautiful places, anything he wants anytime he wants it.

It’s one of two thoughts echoing through your head through the whole flight, the second one being that you don’t belong here. You don’t ride along in chartered jets, or go on impromptu day trips to beautiful islands. This is all completely uncharted territory for you and it makes your stomach twist, but you’re able to just pass it off as being a nervous flier.

Lando holds your hand, makes sure you’re comfortable the whole time, and that’s that. There’s no need to worry him about what’s running rampant through your mind.

Thankfully, you fall asleep not too long into the flight, and you don’t wake up until you’re on the ground in Ibiza. From there, it feels like a whirlwind has taken hold of you. You’re put into a car, driving, driving, driving god knows where.

Lando won’t tell you a thing, just kisses your cheek and tells you not to worry. And just when you think you’re at your destination, you’re squeezed into a golf cart that eventually drops you off at a seemingly private marina.

A large yacht sits before you, pristine white and polished to perfection. Lando beams, holding his arms out to the side like a game show host. “Ta-da! Look what we got for the day!”

You’re at a loss for words. When he’d agreed to a joint beach day, you thought you’d actually be going to…well, a beach.

“How the fuck did you manage to charter a yacht on such short notice?” Maren asks, clearly disbelieving.

Lando aims a look at her over his sunglasses, arching a brow. “What, like it’s hard?”

“Don’t do Elle Woods. You can’t pull it off,” Samira chimes in, to which Max nods his agreement.

“Everyone’s a critic nowadays,” Lando mutters under his breath, flipping both of them off. “Just get on the boat, dream killers!”

Your friends seem to be taking it in a much better stride than you are, because they go exploring the moment they climb right on alongside the rest of the boys, chattering excitedly. You, on the other hand, have to take a moment after Lando helps you on.

“So? What do you think?” He asks earnestly, rocking on the balls of his feet.

“It’s gorgeous,” You admit, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t know you were planning on getting a yacht.”

“Yeah, I got it so we could have the day to ourselves. Dock somewhere remote, swim and have fun without anyone else around. I know how important privacy is to you, and I wanted you to be able to relax today.”

It hits you like a heavyweight right then. Lando did this for you.

Went through all these last minute hoops that probably cost a fortune just so you’d feel comfortable. It has to be the sweetest, albeit most outrageous, thing anyone’s ever done for you.

You close the distance between you in two steps, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. The force of it makes him stumble back a little bit, but he’s quick to recover, nuzzling deep into the crook of your neck with a smile you can feel pressed against your skin.

“That was one hell of a thank you,” He breathes. You shrug innocently and he laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Ready to have some fun?”

Turns out fun means putting an anchor down just off the shore of some small island not too far away. The day is starting to heat up a bit, perfect for you and the girls to stretch out on the cushioned benches and soak up the sun whilst the boys mess around in the water off the back of the boat.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, but you’re about ready to drift off when you feel something on your face. A drop of water hits you square in the forehead, another hits your cheek, and it makes you peek one eye open.

Lando stands right above you, beaming down at you as he drips water everywhere.

“Hi. Water’s nice,” He says, shaking his hair out not unlike a dog would shake out its fur. Droplets spray all over you with the action, making you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily.

You wipe the water off your face with an amused chuckle. “Yeah, I think I can tell. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“You should come in.”

“Maybe later. My sunscreen might not be dry yet.”

“I think it’s plenty dry.”

You arch a brow at his insistence, suspicious of the mischievous smile curving his lips, the glint in his eyes. He’s got something in that mind of his, and you’re starting to grasp what it might be. You sit up, inching away from him as he creeps closer. “Stop it. Lando, no. Don’t even think about it!”

He flops on top of you gently, enough to make you roll your eyes but not enough to smother you. “Lovely place to have a lay, innit?” He says innocently, squinting down at you.

“It was,” You groan dramatically, wrinkling your nose at the puddle of water beginning to pool around you. “Now I’m being crushed.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No, no, the words you're looking for are big and strong and handsome. Did I mention the word strong?”

“Twice, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“Careful, or I might start to think you have a praise kink,” You joke. Though judging by the immediate blush that blooms across his cheeks and ears, you might’ve just discovered something about your boyfriend. “Oh! You—I didn’t mean it like—”

His lips press against yours before you can finish your sentence as if to deter you from finishing your sentence, and you forget what you were saying in the first place. You’ve found that this is usually the case any time Lando kisses you, any and all previous thoughts disappearing without a trace only to be taken up by one singular thing—him.

“Get a room, you two!” Samira grumbles, bringing you back to reality. “Happy for you and all, but I’m trying to sleep over here.”

Right.

You’d forgotten you were laying right next to her. Evidently Lando has too, because he whines something unintelligible, face hot against your bare skin as he buries his face into the crook of your neck in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” You mumble, giving Lando a pat on the back to make him get off you. He does so, but not without a pout. The quick kiss you press to his shoulder when you pull yourself into an upright position is enough to settle him.

He tilts his head invitingly, eyes bright now. “Come swim?”

“Is the water nice?”

“It’d be nicer if you were in it.”

“I’m serious, Lando! Is it cold?”

“Guess you’ll just have to jump in and see.” He shrugs, winks at you playfully before ambling away.

You can’t help but admire Lando as he walks away from you, broad shoulders on full display, muscles shifting as he stretches his arms high over his head. Moles dot the expanse of his back, and it makes you want to trace your fingers along his tanned skin like you’re playing connect the dots.

You’re expecting him to head for the back of the boat, but he goes towards the ladder heading up to the roof of the boat.

“Now what exactly do you think you’re doing?” You call after him, raising your hand to block the sun shining in your eyes.

“Jumping off the roof!”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s totally safe! I’ve done it before,” Lando reasons, waiting until he reaches the top of the ladder to offer you a smile. Somehow that doesn’t make you feel any better about him taking a flying leap from that high. “Wanna give it a go?”

The words fuck and no teeter at the very tip of your tongue, but he’s grinning so big, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t at least a little bit intrigued.

Jumping off the roof of a yacht into crystal clear waters isn’t something you’ve ever thought you’d do, but then again, you’ve been doing a lot of things you never thought you’d do on this trip.

“If I die, I’m haunting your ass forever,” You warn. Once you’re up the ladder on your own, you accept his outstretched hand onto the roof as he leads you carefully to the edge, fingers firmly tangled with yours.

“There’s no one I’d rather be haunted by.”

He leaps, taking you with him before you can even think of a response, and for a few moments, you feel weightless, falling through the air with nothing but Lando’s hand to ground you. It feels less terrifying and more freeing than you’d thought.

You squeeze your eyes shut just before you hit the water, keeping them closed as you sink deeper and deeper. Lando’s hand leaves yours, but you don’t panic. You let yourself float, reveling in the quiet of being underwater until you start to feel it in your chest, and only then do you push towards the surface in a flume of bubbles.

The breath of air you inhale once you get above water is refreshing, and you tip your chin towards the sky, taking in the warm sunlight with a sigh. You wipe away the water cascading down your face before paddling back towards the boat, where Lando is sitting with his legs hanging off the back of it, waving at you.

“What’d you think?” He asks earnestly once he’s pulled you out of the water to sit next to him.

“That was…exhilarating.”

“See, I told you it was fun! Stick with me, baby, I’ll show you the world.”

Somehow, you don’t doubt that. If you’re an example of playing it safe, Lando is the definition of full sending it, impulse and chaos behind a handsome face.

-------

The day flies by, and before you know it, it’s time to head back to shore. Thankfully, the yacht is well equipped with a shower in the bathroom, so you’re able to freshen up nicely when the time comes.

Lando lets out a low whistle when you emerge back out onto the deck, eyes dragging down your whole body, drinking in the sight of you with his lower lip tugged between his teeth. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, makes your cheeks flame hot.

“Damn, you’re hot, girl!” He grins, winking at you.

“Stop it,” You huff, adjusting the strap of your heel.

“What? It’s true! Can’t I pay my hot girlfriend a compliment?” He argues, looking absolutely giddy. “C’mon, give me a spin.” You roll your eyes but oblige, and he whistles again. “My god, I’m a lucky guy.”

“You’re so ridiculous,” You chuckle, letting yourself be tucked under his arm as you make your way to join the rest of your friends.

“If ridiculous means obsessed with you, then yes, I am ridiculous.”

The place is only a stone’s throw away from the public beach near the marina and already bouncing when you get there. You’re expecting to fold into the crowd of people, but Lando skirts around it, heading for the very front of the giant area, towards the DJ box.

Maren’s hand clamps around your arm, squeezing tightly. “That’s Martin fucking Garrix!” She hisses, jutting her chin towards the stage aggressively. “You didn’t tell us Lando’s friend Martin was Martin fucking Garrix!”

“He didn’t even tell me, how was I supposed to know?!” is all you can utter back in response.

You’re just as taken by surprise as she is. You’d have never expected Lando’s friend Martin to be Martin Garrix. It’s not a connection you would’ve made at all, but you keep forgetting Lando is actually famous. Of course he has famous friends.

Martin gestures for one of the other people there to take over the set, swapping out to come say hello as soon as he spots Lando. Both boys sport identical massive smiles.

“Mate, it is good to see you again,” He says earnestly, bringing Lando into a tight hug. “I’ve been meaning to make it out to a race! You look great out there, though.”

Lando shrugs, enthusiasm flickering a little at the mention of work, but only for a split second. “Could be doing better, but yeah, cheers!”

Martin’s eyes flick over to you and he must get the sense that you’re a little nervous, because his smile turns more polite. “See you’ve made some new friends. Nice to meet you all, I’m Martin.” Then he notices how Lando’s moved closer to be next to you and you’re sure he’s already got things figured out. “Enjoy the set! I’m sure Lando will take good care of you.”

A few drinks in your system helps relax the knot of nerves sitting on your chest a significant amount, enough so to where you’ve actually started to enjoy yourself.

Lando’s hands slide around your waist from behind to sit at your hips, chest pressed up against your back as his chin drops down to nestle in the crook of your neck. He moves with the beat and you find yourself following, guided by his firm grip.

It’s so easy to get lost in him. You want to let yourself get lost in him, let yourself sink back into him and let your inhibitions free. But you can’t.

Anyone can see you right now, seeing as you’re not exactly in a private place. You’re tucked off to the side, partially obscured by Martin’s booth and entourage, but it wouldn’t be hard for someone to take a good look and recognize Lando, even with the smoke and flashing lights.

It’s risky to stay like this, and you want to tell him that, but then his lips press against the skin of your shoulder tenderly and your brain nearly short circuits. Heat blooms where he kisses you, traveling up to your cheeks and down to your toes like you've just been standing too close to a flickering fire.

It isn’t until his nose nudges in right behind your ear, and his warm breath fans across your heated skin, that you suddenly feel like you can’t breathe. The loud music dulls down into background noise to the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Taking a shuddering inhale, you wriggle free of Lando’s grip, mumbling something to him about needing air as best you can and taking off before he can figure out what’s happening.

You squeeze through the crowd rather forcefully, just needing to get somewhere without people, somewhere quiet where you can catch your breath and calm yourself down.

Somehow you find yourself back at the beach, throwing yourself down onto a bench and burying your face into your hands with a frustrated, strangled groan.

You don’t even know what’s wrong. Everything is good—you’re with your best friends, with Lando, and you’re supposed to be having fun. So why do you feel like you’re not supposed to be here?

The answer is a mystery even to you.

Watching the gentle waves lap over the shore proves rather soothing, a repetitive back and forth that helps ease your mind just the slightest bit. Only a few people mill around at this time of night, and they pay you no notice. You’re free to drown in your own thoughts without any of them being any the wiser.

Footsteps approach some time later. How long, you’re not exactly sure—wallowing in your own self pity feels timeless. The tips of a familiar pair of trainers step into your field of vision, and you make yourself let your gaze follow up to see the extremely concerned face of their owner.

Lando doesn’t say anything when you meet his eyes, just holds out his hand for you to take. When all you do is blink at him, then he speaks. “C’mon, let’s take a walk.” He tilts his head over his shoulder, towards the beach behind him.

“I can’t walk on sand in these heels,” You sniff, scowling a little bit. It’s a shit excuse, you know that, but you don’t feel like being very cooperative right now.

“I’ll hold them,” He replies, toeing off his own shoes first. You give in almost too easily, slipping off yours to give to him and accepting his other hand up. His fingers immediately intertwine with yours, tugging you closer to him as you step into the sand.

You walk along the shore for a while before either of you feel like saying anything, and it’s him who speaks first.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks gently. Rather than saying anything, you press your lips together. “C’mon, will you talk to me? Please?” His voice is so soft, so full of genuine concern for you it makes you start to feel bad. “I think it’ll make you feel better, instead of holding everything in.”

“All of this—the jet, the yacht, everything—it’s a lot to take in,” You admit quietly, staring hard at the sand in front of you. “And I know you did it for me, so I’d feel comfortable, and I love how thoughtful you are when it comes to these things. But I…this is all completely new for me. Like, I can’t help but feel like such an outsider.”

Lando’s expression crumples. “Oh. I didn’t mean to—that wasn’t my intention. To make you feel like you don’t belong.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”

“This sounds like the start of a romcom breakup scene,” He says, then he freezes, brows furrowing. “Wait, is this—”

“No! No, I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just…saying things.”

“Okay.” He nods, looking thoughtful. “How can I fix this, how can I help with what you’re feeling?”

You smile at him, grateful that he’s asking even though there isn’t anything for him to do about how you’re feeling. Putting it out there is already starting to help, actually. You were scared about your thoughts and feelings being cast aside, but Lando hasn’t done that. He’s nothing but kind and caring about it. About you.

“I’m fine, Lando. Thank you though, you’re sweet,” You assure him, kissing his cheek. “Mind if we walk a little longer before going back to Martin’s set?”

“We don’t have to go back,” He suggests. “We can stay here, go somewhere else, anything you want.”

“I want to go back. It’ll be fun,” You say, nodding firmly. The action is meant to reassure yourself more so than Lando, but he’s the one who looks wary.

His head cocks to the side, brows furrowing in gentle caution. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

-------

The jet is quiet on the way back to Greece after Martin’s gig lets out, with good reason. It’s late at night, bordering on very early morning, and everyone’s asleep except you and Max, who’s on the phone with his girlfriend.

Judging by the way Lando immediately found his way into your space as soon as you all settled in for the flight and promptly conked out not five minutes later, he's exhausted.

You glance down at the boy currently snoozing away curled up with his head in your lap, one of your hands clutched between both of his. His chest rises and falls rhythmically in his sleep, long lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheekbones.

Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever been as content with someone as you are now with Lando. Even though things between you are still new, you feel like you really can be yourself without judgement around him too. And that talk you’d had at the beach has definitely lifted the weight off your shoulders a good amount.

Still, there’s something else you have to get off your chest. You turn your gaze on the only other person you can talk to right now, the one person you do want to talk to.

Max ends his call shortly after with a quiet love you, see you soon, catching your eye with a sheepish smile as he sets the phone down on the table. “Pietra says hi. She’s looking forward to meeting you guys when she flies in.”

“We’re excited to meet her too, she sounds amazing.”

“Yeah, she is,” Max sighs. Then he squints at you, like he knows something is amiss. “Is everything alright? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

You nod carefully, absentmindedly winding one of Lando’s springy curls around your finger. He exhales a little harder in his sleep when you let it bounce back into place but doesn’t wake up, just snuggles deeper into you. “It’s kind of a weird thing to bring up, but I feel like I have to ask.”

“Anything, go ahead. We’re friends, aren’t we?” It’s actually reassuring to know that Max’s opinion on you hasn’t changed since you’d gotten together with his best friend. You’re still friends just the same. That thought helps you muster up the courage to say what’s been weighing on you.

“Are you okay with us? Lando and I, I mean.”

You aren’t seeking his approval or anything, you just want him to be okay with the two of you. Or maybe you are, you’re not really sure. Max is Lando’s best friend, his brother. Other than Lando’s family, who you can't even think about meeting one day without your stomach churning, he's the person who's known Lando best since they were kids.

All these people, they’re everything to him, and it's important for you to know where they stand.

Max smiles warmly, says your name in that same soft, gentle way Lando always does when you get unsure. “You’re exactly the kind of person Lando needs in his life. Someone away from everything he’s got going on, someone who genuinely cares for him the way you do. You’re perfect for each other, and I hope you know that.”

You swallow the lump rising in your throat, smiling at Max through eyes glossy with welled up tears. His blessing brings you comfort, even if you weren't looking for it. “Thank you.”

“No, I feel like I should be the one thanking you.”

Your brows furrow, head tilting curiously to the side as to what he means. “Me? What did I do?”

“I know Lando’s filled you in about what’s been going on, so you know that he’s had a bit of a rough time lately.” Max says softly, clearing his throat to rid himself of the emotional thickness in his tone. You can tell how much Max really loves and cares for Lando. “He’s not been himself for a while, so this summer break, this trip, it was something that might help him leave it all behind. Just relax and find himself again, ‘cause it wasn’t good for him, bottling it all up like he was.”

Your heart aches for Lando. You can’t help but want to protect him. It was true when you’d been just friends and only grown truer since.

“I wasn’t sure if it was doing him any good, but then we met you, and I swear to god I haven’t seen him smile this much in ages. He’s been so happy, so in love, it’s been—shit, I don’t even know what else I can say other than thank you. You’ve made my best mate himself again, and…I think I owe you everything for that.”

You know there are other parts of his sentence that you should be paying attention to—being the reason Lando feels like himself again, making him happy—but only one thing echoes at the very forefront of your brain. “He’s in love with me?”

Max’s eyes widen almost comically at the realization of what he’s just done. The juxtaposition of the heartfelt conversation you’ve had up until this point with the sudden exaggerated panic in his eyes would’ve cracked you up had you not been stunned by what he’d just let loose. “I really need to learn how to keep my fucking mouth shut.”

“Lando told you he was in love with me?” You press. You’d kick him under the table, but then you’d risk waking up the subject of your conversation. Max just blinks at you, probably trying to figure out a way out of this. “Max.”

“Fuck, fine! Yeah, he told me.” You raise an expectant brow for him to elaborate. “Jesus, did you want a timestamp? He said, I think I’m falling in love with her.”

“He thinks?”

“Well, I don’t know! I’m not a mind reader, am I?” He huffs. Upon seeing your brows furrow, he sighs. “But if I could read his mind, I’d say yes. I’ve known Lando…shit, I dunno, ten years now? And I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else before. You��re special to him.”

“He’s special to me too,” You say softly, stroking a thumb over Lando’s knuckles gently. It should feel strange how much you feel for this boy and how strong those feelings are, but for some reason, it doesn’t. It feels exactly right.

“I feel obligated to give you the usual ‘hurt my best friend and I’ll hurt you’ bit, but I know you won’t. You’ve been a great friend these last couple weeks, and I trust you with him. I trust that you’ll love him as much as he loves you. You do, don’t you?”

You sigh, chuckling softly. “Figured out that one easily too, haven’t you?”

“Please, I’ve known since the day you lot came round ours for the barbeque. And both of you are shit at hiding things, by the way. You’d be terrible spies.”

“Thanks, Max. Seriously.”

“For calling you a crappy liar? You’re welcome, I guess?” He’s only joking, but you know he knows what you mean. Max is a really good guy, a really good friend, both to you and to Lando. “And if he ever hurts you, loop me in. I’ll give him a proper beating for hurting my friend.”

“Oh, I will. Avoid the face though, I kinda like it.”

Max snorts, shaking his head playfully. “Yeah, he’s got a nice mug, that one. Real moneymaker.”

The moneymaker is drooling a little bit with his cheek smushed up against your leg, but you pay it no mind. He still looks good.

He’s actually starting to look like your whole world, all wrapped up into one perfectly flawed human being.

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