#but I’m wrapped up in my lovers arms
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rosicheeks · 2 years ago
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You look like a perfect snowy day treat, a day inside where it’s warm with lots of cuddles and rough sex
❄️🥰
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iammissingautumn · 8 months ago
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okay but honestly imagine dating taylor swift and she releases So High School like that’s embarrassing i’m all for hating or loving taylor swift or whatever but like. she creates all of Lover. Imagine someone wrote Daylight and then releases So High School. Imagine your partner wrote Paper Rings for an ex and then wrote So High School for you. like that’s embarrassing. i would be embarrassed.
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sttoru · 2 months ago
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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. play fighting with your lover quickly turns into you being pounded on the couch.
tags. (assassin!)toji x female reader. smut. dōggy style. age gap implied. with plot-ish. unprotected -> p in v. size difference / kink. power trip-ish. teasing. crēampie. dacryphilia. tummy bulging. pūssy slapping. breēding mention. reader gets called ‘(little) girl, pretty, doll, slut.’ not proofread. wc: 3.4k
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you let out a sigh of relief when your lover comes back home safe from another mission. toji’s risky job always leaves you anxious, knowing what could happen to him if things took a turn for the worse.
“keheh, there’s my pretty girl,” toji grins as he feels you jump into his embrace the instant he steps into the living room. your arms wrap around his waist and your head rests against his chiseled chest. he’s sweaty and bloody, yet you can’t care less. you’ve waited all day for him.
you tilt your head back and give the black-haired man a quick, passionate kiss. he returns it with equal force before picking you up and bringing you over to the couch. once toji put you down, he reaches a hand out to lazily ruffle your hair, “i’m g’nna take a shower, yeah?”
you shake your head and grab his hand before he can think of moving away. “no, want you to stay. just for a little more,” you attempt to coax toji into staying with you for a bit more.
“after i take a shower, doll. i probably smell ‘n look like shit,” the assassin mumbles in a low tone. his hair is wet with sweat, black locks sticking to his forehead. his compression shirt is torn in some places, but it’s neatly outlining his pecs, which makes him look ten times more attractive.
“nu-uh, you don’t,” you refute and tug at toji’s wrist again. he playfully rolls his eyes after giving in to your innocent request. you clearly don’t mind the sweaty state he’s in. you just want to cuddle up and talk to him about all kinds of things. “you look as handsome as ever,” you smile at him once you straddle his lap. toji’s hands find your hips, his nails ghosting over your skin to send shivers down your spine.
“heh. that ain’t nothin’ new,” your lover leans his head back with a cocky smirk. he knows how much you love it when he’s all sweaty and tired. toji never fails to spot the way your eyes wander up and down his muscular figure whenever he’s wearing that signature outfit of his. a black compression shirt that defines his pecs and white-ish baggy pants. you love it.
your fingers trace circles over his chest. you don’t seem to care about the random crimson droplets on his skin. they’re not his, thus you let it go. asking questions about the job he’s finished will only ruin the mood you’ve set. plus, toji clearly needs some distraction from the fact that his limbs are aching. he’s outdone himself today as well.
“you tired?” you ask through a soft murmur. your boyfriend nods while yawning, teasingly pinching your cheek afterwards. “mhm,” toji hums while playing with the collar of your shirt, eyes wandering down to your tits. one of his most favorite spots on your body.
you’re clearly not wearing a bra and it’s making it difficult for him to stay focused. your nipples push against the material of your pyjamas so deliciously, just begging to be touched by his fingers. he quietly clears his throat and looks the other direction to play it off.
“oh?” you giggle and tap toji’s cheek twice to gain his attention, though with no success. he’s trying his best to come off as nonchalant as possible—to remain that stoic man he’s always been. his attempts are proven futile when you press your breasts against his chest.
“come on, babe. look at meeee,” you laugh and resort to tickling toji’s belly and armpits. he freezes for a second before scoffing at your actions, his hands immediately rush under your shirt to tickle you back. you end up squirming on his lap, trying to swat his arms in attempt to defend yourself.
your lover lets out a haughty chuckle as you become defenceless because of his well calculated revenge tickles. “mm? didn’t hear ya, y’ should speak up,” toji teases you, clearly seeing how you’re struggling to talk as he makes you squeal and laugh uncontrollably.
there are tears forming on your eyes. your breath comes in short gasps when you finally find a chance to jump off toji’s lap. “shut up, fushiguro!” you call out, going back to last name basis, which you know toji dislikes. you stumble back a little and stick your tongue out at your lover before fleeing the scene. or at least you try to.
“fushiguro, aye?” you hear toji’s voice right behind you, and when you turn around to face him, he’s already got you caged in his arms. you gasp and kick your legs, hitting him in the shin. the man groans at the contact and loosens his grip a little. you take the opportunity again, jumping onto his back, clinging onto him with your legs around his waist. you encircle your arm around his neck and catch him off guard with a surprise headlock.
“hehe, got you now,” you grin smugly. toji’s not giving his best, you know that, because you’d be on the floor if he did. he’s allowing you to have fun and he’s indulging you, which you more than so appreciate. “what? cat got your tongue, big boy?” you continue challenging him, proud of your little achievement.
you’re painfully oblivious to toji's struggles. how he's struggling with his inner desires, how his hands ball up into fists at his side. he can feel your body clinging onto him, your legs wrapped so tightly around his waist. it’s adorable that you find so much joy in having the upper hand over a grown man like him.
adorable, and such a huge turn on.
toji can’t believe that he’s getting a boner from just playing with you like this. maybe it’s your body that’s pressed against him so snugly, letting him feel every feminine curve or maybe it's the fact that he knows he can easily pin you to the ground and show you what a real man can do until you're begging for mercy.
your nipples are pressed against his back and it’s so hard to act like he can’t feel that. it’s hard to believe you’re not doing it on purpose, but you truly aren’t.
“careful,” toji comments in a husky voice. the corner of his lip twitches, his eyes hidden behind his black bangs, “y’ might start something you can’t finish.” you figure that it’s just bait to scare you off, so you don’t take it seriously. you tighten the headlock a little, biting toji’s ear and nibbling on it as revenge.
“you’re not scaring me with that,” you chuckle and pinch toji’s cheek with your free hand. the older man turns his head slightly, catching a glimpse of your mischievous grin. oh, how cute.
with a swift, fluid motion, toji reaches up with both hands and grasps your thighs firmly. in a heartbeat, your positions reverse and he pins you to the nearby wall. both of his meaty arms cage you in by pressing against the concrete on either side of your head.
“seems like i’m the one who got ya now, doll,” toji murmurs, his voice low and laced with a hint of lust. he gazes down at you, your faces mere inches apart. you can feel his breath fanning against your lips. he’s itching to claim your mouth so, so bad.
but before he can capture your sweet lips with his, you catch him off guard by pushing your full weight forward, causing toji to lose balance. he tumbles backwards onto the carpet below with you on top of him.
“nope, am not giving up so easily,” you giggle as you try to grab at his wrists. you’re oblivious to toji’s desires, too focused on overpowering the man who could snap you in half. it’s fun when he allows you to take control.
however, your lover is slowly losing his rationality. you’re seated on top of his abs and he can swear he can feel the heat of your cunt through your clothes. it’s the only thing he can focus on at that moment. the only thing he craves.
“fuck, c’mere,” toji growls and rolls you over so you’re pinned beneath him on the floor. he can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips when your laughter echoes throughout the living room. even through his lustful haze, he finds your joy thoroughly endearing.
you manage to find another opening and roll over again so you’re on top of him instead. the cycle continues for a few more seconds, your bodies lost in a tangled mess of limbs. you exchange gasps, grunts and giggles while you’re ‘fighting’ for dominance.
when you bite on toji’s shoulder as a way to catch him off guard once more, he hisses. not in an annoyed or pained way— no. he’s so turned on that you biting him sends a jolt of pleasure right down to his aching cock. so turned on that he may accidentally have developed a new kink in that same second.
either way, that little action was his last straw.
toji effortlessly lifts you up on the couch, your body bouncing a bit on the plush cushions as he turns you around on your stomach. one arm hooks around your neck, his bicep pressing against your throat. not enough to hinder your airway, but enough to send shivers down your spine.
“told ya to b’ careful,” toji grunts, his breath against your sensitive skin from behind, “y’ should start listening to me more.” his tongue flicks out and licks a stripe up your ear. his crotch is pressed right against your ass and only then do you notice his raging hard-on.
your eyes widen, cheek smushed against his muscular arm wrapped around your neck, keeping you in place beneath his big body. “oh, fuck, toji,” you let out a shuddering breath. you’re completely engulfed by his large frame—disappearing out of sight. just how he likes it.
“yeah? feel that?” toji grins as he squeezes his bicep around your delicate throat some more. you gasp and whine, turned on by him overpowering you, as much as you had been enjoying the opposite just seconds ago. he mocks your earlier words with a grunt, “think i have’ta remind my lil’ brat exactly what this ‘big boy’ can do to ya.”
and the older man wastes no time to do exactly that.
your shorts and panties are tossed carelessly on the carpet, your cheek smushed against the cushions that you’re desperately gripping. your face is contorted with pleasure, brows furrowed, eyes glazed over and your swollen lips parted to take shallow breaths.
you can feel the ache in your lower back. the arch of your spine is nearly unnatural as your ass is pushed so high up, bouncing back to meet the mean backshots your man is giving you.
“ah, ngh! t—toooji,” you mewl loudly, droplets of saliva trickling down from the corner of your mouth. you can’t deny that this entire situation has you soaked.
the switch toji went through, from being playful and letting you do what you want to reminding you who’s boss at the end of the day— it’s perfect and feels way too good. the cherry on top is the familiar scent of his body, the sweat mixed with his cologne.
it adds to the pleasure, makes you dizzy in a good way.
toji grips your waist, his manly hands trailing down to your hips every now and then for the extra leverage. his fingers dig into your soft flesh as he pounds into you mercislessly, fucking into you like you’re his personal cocksleeve. “ain’t gonna try that again, are ya?”
“dumb lil’ slut,” your harsh lover grumbles under his breath, hand smacking the fat of your ass. toji loves seeing it ripple underneath him, even more so when his hips smack against your rear with strength that leaves your flesh stinging, “bet ya love it when i remind you who owns this cunt.”
toji groans as he slides his thick cock in and out of your tight cunt. you’re gripping him like you never want to let go, like you want to milk him of every drop of the cum stored in his balls.
the sight that he’s blessed with from his point of view can make him bust a load right then and there. you’re presenting your ass to him shamelessly, looking back over your shoulder with lust-blown eyes.
and don’t get him started on the outline of his dick distending your tummy, the one he can feel whenever he reaches a hand around to press against your lower abdomen and circle your clit. too fucking lewd.
“fuck, yeahhhh. take that fat fuckin’ dick, baby,” toji throws his head back as he pushes your body even further into the couch. you swear he’s folding you in half, “let me show ya what a real man in charge can do— how a real man fucks his woman.”
toji’s cock is ruining you, reshaping your insides to fit his massive size and you don’t mind it one bit. in fact, you love it. love the feel of him, the stretch and burn of his thick cock splitting you open.
“yes, mmh, yes! fuck me!” you keen, sobbing from the pleasure. your hand reaches back to scratch at toji’s arm, trying to hold onto him, to find him even in the midst of it all. the view of your desperation and your pleas makes him lose it.
the dark-haired man scoffs, “oh, i’ll fuck ya, all right. . .”
with a low growl, toji plants one foot on the floor next to you, his other leg still bent at the knee on the sofa you’re laying at. the muscles in his arms ripple as he lifts your hips even higher up to be able to meet his thrusts.
“fuuuuuck! right there!” you wail, your head trashing back and forth on the damp sofa. from this new angle, he can drive his fat dick into you even deeper, engorged tip hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you see white.
toji revels in the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, mixed with your sweet moans. you seem so much smaller than him in this new position, your body helplessly giving in, allowing him to put you in whatever position he wants. it boosts his ego and makes his cock pulse inside of you.
he loves seeing the tears in your eyes as it nearly gets too much for you to handle. it motivates him to fuck you harder until you’re full on bawling, which he can easily get off on. making you cry in pure bliss is all he wants to achieve.
your pussy is tight as it clenches around his cock like a vice. toji’s hand slithers around to circle your clit, making your legs spasm and hips thrust back sloppily. “shitttt, y’r sweet lil’ cunt was made just for this—” he pants as his thumb presses against the nub, “to take my cock.”
all you can do is dumbly nod at whatever your partner says. “mmhm, ah yeah, made for you,” your small whines are music to his ears. the palms of your hands feel clammy as you hold onto anything you can grasp.
everything around you is a blur as the only thing you can focus on is the way his heavy cock fills you so well.
toji can feel your juices trickling down his heavy sack, soaking his thighs and yours, as well as the couch. it will leave stains, but he doesn’t care and neither do you.
“look at ya,” he huffs and slaps your clit once, callused fingers dragging along your puffy lips that are parted obscenely wide for his cock. toji brings his wet finger to his mouth to lick it clean. he hums satisfactorily at the taste, “pussy’s droolin’ aaaall over my dick. nasty girl.”
your pussy starts fluttering around his thick length as it impales you over and over. it’s a telltale sign of your orgasm, one toji has come to recognise quite easily.
“yeah? gonna make an even bigger mess on my cock?” he grins before pressing his chest against your sweaty back, blanketing your small body. the extra weight added to the ecstasy only makes you scream louder for him.
“yes, yes, yes! gonna cum!” you cry out, toes curling and eyes rolling back as you try to prolong your pleasure. even if it’s only for a second.
toji curses under his breath as his hips move faster to drive you over the edge. he can’t wait to feel your cunt get even tighter, to make it feel like you’re about to snap his dick off. he loves the pain mixed with the pleasure of your tightness.
“do it. cream all over me, c’mon, little girl. y’ can do it,” toji coaxes, delivering small smacks to your clit, causing your hips to jolt back with each slap. you can’t do it anymore— can’t hold on any longer.
you scream as you cum, your pussy spasming wildly around toji’s pulsing cock. that sensation alone has the older man gasping for air, nails digging into the flesh of your ass. no matter how many times he fucks you, the moment you cum, he automatically follows.
the way you squeeze his dick and hold onto it like you don’t want to let go is simply too much.
“fuck, fuck, fuck. g’nna make me bust a fat fuckin’ nut inside of you,” toji groans, his rhythm growing sloppy yet his thrusts are still deliciously hard, “gonna pump this pussy full of my load. breed ‘er nice and deep. shitt— take it!”
a strangled moan leaves his lips as he grinds his hips against your ass while his cock jolts inside of you. he pumps jet after jet of hot cum directly into your womb, tip rubbing against the deepest spot he can reach.
“eaaaasy, yeah, just like that. let it soak into ya,” toji hisses as his hips jerk erratically, “good girl. takin’ all of it so well.” it seems to go on forever as spurts of semen flood your insides for a good few seconds.
once your lover fully empties his balls inside of you, he feels himself grow weak. his thighs and arms tremble a bit from overexertion.
you collapse together in a sweaty heap, toji’s softening dick still buried deep inside of you. the only thing filling the room now is your heavy breathing as you slowly regain your composure. it’s quite a comfortable silence.
after a while, toji shifts. he pulls out with a wet squelch and watches with half-lidded eyes as thick, pearly globs of cum trickle down your slit. he grins lazily at the sight before turning you around.
you’re completely fucked out, it seems. your chest is heaving and your eyes are barely open. the trails of tears and drool on your face tells the man enough. toji wipes a stray strand of hair from your face with a haughty chuckle, “damn, keheh, fucked y’ real good. you okay though?”
you weakly nod in response before wrapping your arms around him. your hands rest on his broad back, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.
toji hums and hugs you back, being careful not to squish you under his weight. he presses chaste kisses to your temple as he enjoys your frame molding perfectly against the hard muscles of his body.
“y’ did so well for me, little girl,” he comments gruffly, voice deep and a bit hoarse. you smile at the praise and murmur a small ‘thanks’. nothing is better than being able to feel safe with your lover after an intense session like that.
you pull back a bit and look up at toji with a little, playful grin. “guess i need to challenge you more often. felt too good, babe.”
toji lets out a small scoff and shakes his head. a ghost of a smirk appears on his lips as he slightly pinches your side. he holds you against his chest and buries his nose into your hair, sighing as he finally relaxes his weary body.
“y’ can try. might break ya for real next time, though.”
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lokissweater · 4 months ago
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birds of a feather . ۫ ꣑ৎ .
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{olympic figure skater!satoru gojo x olympic figure skater f!reader}
summary: you and satoru have known each other since childhood, two little birds navigating through life together as you shared one dream in common— to win gold at the olympics, you both a figure skating pair as you moved and performed and fell in love as the years went by, both balancing off a trembling tight rope and holding on to keep each other in place, a silent agreement that if you indulged and fell into the depths of the truth of what you were, you’d run the risk of losing your careers and each other, yours and satoru’s biggest fears. but you’re growing, and it’s getting harder to hold back… especially for satoru— that trembling tight rope on the verge of snapping in two.
warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, childhood best friends to lovers trope, cursing, DIABOLICAL ANGST BUT WITH HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE!, mentions of death and loss, mentions of injury and blood, FLUUUFFF, satoru loves loves loves you, SMUUUTT, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it y’all), creampie, pussy eating, dom satoru, pussy drunk satoru, DIRTY TALK, pet names, figure skating, the olympics, true love <3
word count: 22.3k (I KNOW PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE PLEASE—)
authors note: YYYOOOUUU GUUUYYSSS THIS ONE IS MY BABBBYYY AND IM CRYING NOW WRITING THIS LMFAOAOAO. i hope you all love it seriously i GLADLY worked day and night writing this and i’d do it all over again just to see y’all happy :) THANK YOU for your support it is UNREAL, and like always, I LOOVEEE YOUUU MWAAHHH <333
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you first met satoru when you were six at the skating rink.
he was only a year older than you, both of your mothers coincidentally signing you up for the same youth ice skating lessons for beginners, meeting and chatting it up seeing as you and satoru were the youngest in age out of the rest of the parents there and their children, you both automatically put together by your coach and separated from the older kids to do warm ups.
and even though the age difference was only a year, satoru at first treated you like a little helpless tiny thing who needed assistance in everything— the cute pink ribbons in your hair doing you an injustice and further implementing the image of a little girl who had no clue of what was going on around her, thinking you were cutesy and he was determined to be your little knight in shining armor when the time came.
until he saw you skate.
what satoru didn’t know, was that you were a prodigy— related to one of the most famous ice skaters in olympic ice skating history, akira, as her talent was blessedly passed down to you through your fruitful system and the lucky processes of genetics— chosen as you barely even had to be taught, you catching everything right away by the coach without any sort of slip and fall… unlike satoru who was clumsily struggling to even glide through the ice without wobbling.
and little satoru was astonished by you and your talent, his first impression of you drastically changing by the end of the first lesson as he shakily slid across the ice over to where you were, patiently doing little turns on the ice while you waited for your mother to finish up talking to another lady (it was satoru’s mother).
“hi!” he had greeted you, a huge goofy smile on his face as you slowed down and looked at him, returning a shy smile of your own.
“hi.”
“i’m satoru!” he extended a hand, eyes shooting wide as he suddenly lost his balance and slipped forward, on the brink of face planting on the ice as his hands quickly flailed out and gripped the edge of the rink to save himself.
you giggled, tiny hands reaching and holding his arm steady as he tried to regain his balance.
“are you okay?” your shy voice asked, and he grinned through his wobbling.
“yeah! i’m okay! don’t worry!”
but he still couldn’t stabilize himself.
“maybe we should sit on the bench?” you suggested sweetly. “so you don’t fall…”
“okay!”
you gripped him as hard as you could (which really wasn’t a lot for a six year old) and slowly moved with him on the ice, supporting him until you were both out of the rink and seated on the bleachers.
“what’s your name?” he chirped, his hands clutching on the edge of the bench as he leaned forward and looked at you kindly, legs swinging.
“y—y/n.”
“nice!” he cheesed, looking at you. “i saw you skate. you’re really good!”
“t—thank you.” you mumbled, shy and alarmed that a boy was talking to you.
“when did you start skating?”
you looked at him confusedly. “um.. today?”
his eyes bulged.
“hah?! today?!”
you jumped at his outburst, cheeks pink as you quickly nodded.
“wowww!…” he gushed with stars in his eyes. “that’s great! i saw you doing turns and things. i can barely move on the ice… it’s slippery.”
“well—” you peeked up at him shyly. “my—my aunt taught me some stuff… but not a lot.”
“you have someone in your family that skates?” he asked excitedly with huge blue eyes. “how cool! hopefully i can catch up to you and at least move…”
“that’s okay...” you smiled. “i know you will.”
“really?!” he gushed again before leaning back, nodding his head cutely. “if you think so, then i know so!”
and you giggled at him, your timid wall slowly crumbling down at his bubbly and kind personality as he was a chatterbox and talked to you about anything that had to do with olympic ice skating— him knowing so much about it and nearly screaming his head off and panicking when he found out that your aunt was none other than akira, now knowing exactly why you were so good at skating in the first place.
satoru looked up to you. so much so that it was comical— seeking your approval over the following years during lessons and not even listening to the damn coach himself as he listened more to you, wanting you to teach him how to do bunny hops or backward crossovers and giving a big fat attitude to anyone else who tried to coach him, whining and snoring away until you and your little bows skated over to him to teach him.
and because of that you spent a lot of time with satoru in and out of lessons, even more than you ever spent with your own friends at school as you clung to him at all times— him cheering and encouraging you on when you were shy in certain situations, and you teaching him everything you could about skating and bringing him little bags of strawberry gummy puffs since he had the biggest sweet tooth you had ever seen, you both cemented and stubbornly attached to the hip with neither wanting to let go.
and when your mother’s planned a little playdate at the local outdoor ice skating rink on a chilly december day— an enormous christmas tree sitting tall and glorious by the rink with twinkling star-shaped fairy lights and jingle bells surrounding the plaza, you and satoru spinning each other around and dancing and giggling over the murmur of classic christmas songs, they saw the potential… an idea sparking in their heads amongst their cooing and picture taking.
you and satoru were both originally put into the ice skating world to train and be independent professional skaters, olympic athletes to be more specific when the time came.
but that concept quickly changed the second you met.
now— you and satoru were an olympic ice skating pair, the subject materializing when your mother’s pulled you out from those simple ice skating lessons (you both already way past getting the basics down since your skill combined with you teaching satoru had you both surpassing the class) and paying for a professional couples figure skating coach to get you guys started now and early.
and the both of you were over the moon, especially satoru, as he absolutely adored you and begged his mother literally every fucking day if he could go over to your house or over to the ice skating rink with you to dance, you doing the same and the two of you crying and wailing on the floor whenever times wouldn’t work out and plans fell through, your mother’s having to give in and drag you to each other’s houses so you would both stop crying.
when akira found out you were officially figure skating, she nearly drove into the side of a building speeding over to your house from being out of the country for so long competing.
“is it true?!” she burst through the doors, your mother rolling her eyes after being startled half to death over her bizarre behavior. “is my little niece gonna be a figure skater like me?!”
you gasped excitedly upon seeing her, getting up from your spot on the rug and running over to akira’s open arms, leaving your coloring book and crayons behind as she swung you around.
“she started when she was six you know that…” your mother grumbled, folding various kitchen towels.
“but you just told me now that she’s not independent!” akira countered, setting you down and holding you out at arms length, eyes wide and eager. “—but partner figure skating! like me!”
she shook you. “where is he?! your partner! is he here? is he your age? is he nice?”
you perked up and looked over to the kitchen. “oh mommy! satoru should come and meet—”
“his name is satoru? oh my goodness how cuteeee!” she cooed, pinching your cheeks. “is he handsome? do you like him? do you have a crush on him—”
your little cheeks blazed as your mother threw a kitchen towel at her.
“she’s eight aki! jesus christ.”
“love has no limits.” akira wiggled a finger, and you giggled.
your mother called satoru’s place soon after, his mother excitedly conversing over the other line about how the akira was finally back in town and how satoru was gonna lose his mind once he saw her— you knowing he was the biggest fan and sometimes told you facts during lessons that you didn’t even know about your own aunt.
and when they finally did arrive, satoru was stiff— frozen in place with tight arms at his sides by the living room as his alarmed big blue eyes looked at akira with a sickly pale face, you snickering behind him.
“hi satoru!” akira greeted, leaning down with her hands on her knees to look at him at eye level. “it’s nice to meet you! y/n tells me you like my skating?”
“u—uhuh.” he responded dumbly, and you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing, knowing satoru would cry and whine about it later if he heard you.
“that’s great! i’m happy you skate too… and with my niece i should say!” she spoke kindly, ruffling his snowy colored hair up and standing upright, placing her hands on her hips and looking like a straight freaking superhero in satoru’s eyes. “you wanna compete in the olympics?”
“uh huh.”
a laughing breath hurled from your throat and your cheeks puffed up like a squirrel, clasped hands still over your mouth and face going red from how hard you were trying to keep it in.
“that’s what i like to hear.” she smiled, a shiny impressive one as satoru still stood there in a stuck daze.
“work hard okay? the both of you. so you can catch up to me someday, yeah?”
your hands slowly fell from your mouth then, eyes filled with admiration and determination as you both eagerly nodded, looking at each other hopefully.
“you think—” satoru stammered, looking at akira. “you think we can… win three gold medals like you?”
“oh absolutely!” she shrugged. “i don’t doubt it at all.”
you and satoru gushed, glittering little eyes as you stared up cutely at akira, her giving you both a silly grin.
“how long have they been doing partner work?” she asked your mother suddenly, watching the way you and satoru chattered then excitedly about the actual possibility of competing for the olympics someday.
“mmm, i wanna say for about a year and a half? maybe two?” she looked over at satoru’s mother, who nodded in agreement. “they’re with a couple’s figure skating coach right now.”
akira hummed and shifted her gaze back down between the two of you.
“i’m training them from now on.”
both mothers froze, eyes wide as they stared at her.
you and satoru hadn’t even realized what she said, still caught up in your little bubble of the olympics and metals and competitions until your mother caught your attention.
“did you hear?”
you shook your head. “hear what!”
“akira wants to coach you and satoru.”
his jaw dropped and he nearly passed out on the floor, you quickly grabbing his shoulders as he reeled over.
“are— are you sure?” your mother continued, looking at her sister now. “aren’t you busy? i thought you were only here for the weekend.”
she waved her off. “i need a break from skating for a little… at least until the next olympics.”
akira turned to you then and smiled warmly. “and i wanna coach my little niece and her new buddy! if that’s okay?”
“yesyesyesyes!—”
both you and satoru bounced up and down and cheered, arms up as you tackled and hung off of akira like a jungle gym, her laughing and smiling big at your enthusiasm.
akira was the most important figure in your life, right next to satoru as she became a mother figure to the both of you as well as your mentor.
and training with her was not easy— your age not an excuse at all whatsoever in her eyes to not learn proper figure skating moves and technique, saying it would only serve you right in the end if you started adapting your bodies to it now rather than later.
and like most things, akira was right. but even though practices were grueling and tough to the point where you had to drag satoru across the ice to get up, she always tried to make them fun in the end— cracking jokes and teaching you guys silly little tricks that you could do with each other on the ice that she figured out over her years of skating with her partner, taking you both out for ice cream frequently after and telling you of her travels competing around the world, the people she’d met, and the titles she’d won— all things that were you and satoru’s ultimate dream as you listened eagerly.
by the time you were twelve and satoru was thirteen, it was obvious you guys were meant to be olympic athletes together.
“you need to pick your leg a little further up on the spin, toru.”
he stuck his tongue out. “says who.”
“says me.” you poked his cheek. “and i’m pretty sure aki told you before she left too.”
“yes ma’am!” he nodded, gliding a bit further away from you on the ice before picking his momentum up and reaching you, him bending his knees and wrapping his arms around your torso as you both went into fast spins, one leg extended for the both of you as your arms gripped over his shoulders— practicing the routine akira had given you for your upcoming competition.
“yeah like that!” you smiled, spins gradually slowing down and satoru coming back up from his bend until you both stood still on the ice. “good job toru!”
he grinned and ruffled your hair. “thanks!”
“mhm!” you responded, turning and skating away to the edge of the rink to hide the blush that was rising in your cheeks.
“what?!” he whined. “where are you going? do i stink?”
“no!” you laughed, shaking your head. “just the usual sweat and B.O.”
“aw no!” he quickly skated to the edge of the rink and out before flying for his duffel bag. “i hate being a man i hate puberty this is ridiculous—”
“i’m kidding im kidding!” you called from across the ice, cackling when he stopped and whipped his head over, glaring at you. “you’re fine toru— not stinky.”
“well you’re stinky for putting me in distress how about that?” he huffed, an eventual smile playing at his lips as he put down his duffel bag and went inside the rink again.
akira was currently on her way to compete at the olympics for her fourth gold medal in partner figure skating, you and satoru having no doubt in your minds that she was going to absolutely clear everyone else there and get it, as she’s never gotten silver or bronze or anything lower than that.
“when do we fly to see aki again?” satoru called from across the ice, gliding to and fro in figure eights. “don’t say tomorrow morning because i haven’t started packing yet heh… oops.”
you giggled. “it is tomorrow morning, dummy.”
“no!” he stopped and shoved his hands in his hair. “i haven’t even started planning my outfits! oh i was gonna take so many pictures what am i supposed to do now—”
you laughed loudly and skated back over to him, hands wrung behind your back as you looked at him cheekily. “you’re silly toru. outfits for what? literally just show up.”
“it’s not everyday we leave the country y/n!” he whined. “i wanted to sport my best and look cool, dang it.”
you playfully rolled your eyes and lifted your hand, patting his head.
“i’ll show up in pajamas and you show up in yours, and we’ll call it a day. hm?”
he grinned.
“matching? or seperate? and what color? plaid?”
“toru!”
he laughed and skated past you, nudging your shoulder with his in the process. “i’m just messing with youuu, matching obviously!”
satoru came back around, reached up and straightened the ribbons in your hair, little white bows sitting pretty as a blush rose to his cheeks when he was done.
“wanna run it three more times and call it?” he suggested. “i wanna make sure i get what you told me down before we go.”
you smiled and quickly nodded, taking satoru’s extended hand and skating together to first position.
watching akira win gold in person for the first time in your life was an experience you’ll never forget.
and she did it fucking beautifully.
with every precise move, with every articulate angle you and satoru screamed and yelled like crazy people in front of the rink while waving around your countries tiny flags, cheering with fat tears rolling down your faces when she successfully landed each time, holding each other so tight with mushed up cheeks throughout her routine with her partner and still in anxiousness when the time came for revealing final scores.
no one could skate like her. absolutely no one as she speedily glided across the ice and spun, prepped herself for the hardest most impressive turns you had ever seen in your life, and performed a quadruple axel rotation in the air all on her own— things that have always earned her the highest scores for three successive olympic years.
and four now— because when akira and her partner stepped up on that podium, you and satoru had to basically be yanked back by your mothers with the way you both tried to jump over the edge of the rink to her, her standing there like a beacon of light on the first place podium, a gold medal hung rightfully around her neck with flowers in her arms as she smiled so so big and happily, her eyes not once leaving you and satoru.
eventually when the ceremony was over, amongst all of the buzz and the crowd roaring and picture taking— akira quickly skated over to the two of you and leaned on the edge of the rink.
“akiiii!” you both wailed and flung your arms around her neck, her giggling and hugging you both back as best as she possibly could despite the mass amount of bouquets in her hands.
“did i do okay?!” she yelled over the noise.
you both pulled back and looked at her like she was insane.
“did you do okay?!” you gawked.
“aki— you won a fucking gold medal!” satoru yelled.
“HAH!” she laughed loudly. “don’t say that word in front of your mommy satoru she’ll chop my head off and kill me!”
you both giggled uncontrollably.
akira leaned her head in then and you and satoru followed through, all three foreheads resting against each others.
“listen to me for a second.“ she started. “you guys are birds of a feather, okay? you need to stick together and fly together as one.”
she let you both go and dropped the bouquets she was holding on the icy floor before placing a hand on yours and satoru’s outer cheeks, bringing you in. “don’t fight. don’t separate. don’t leave each other. you need to keep each other and what you have safe.”
you both quickly nodded, tears funnily gathering at the corners of your eyes at what she was saying, and she smiled.
“yes partner figure skating is about chemistry and technicality, but it’s about love… and sometimes just that. without genuine love, nothing will click.” she let your cheeks go and grabbed her shiny gold medal, holding it up. “this will be yours. i promise you.”
akira put down her medal, wiping both yours and satoru’s wet cheeks. “birds of a feather. stick together. keep each other safe. do you understand?”
the two of you sniffled and nodded.
“and i need to stop cussing in front of you guys during practices, don’t i?!” she smiled warmly, and you and satoru shook your heads frantically.
“no keep doing it!—”
“it’s funny please!—”
ever since akira told you that, it became you and satoru’s thing.
before and after every competition, with every hello and every goodbye at the beginning and end of the day, throughout the hours randomly whenever you both felt like it, you’d lock pinkies and reiterate ‘birds of a feather’ before kissing your thumbs and locking your promise in place— another one of the many other ways you’d show that you loved each other.
but whether it was platonically or romantically remained unknown until you both hit high school.
perhaps it had always been romantically… that you weren’t exactly sure of. but the way you and satoru had been treating each other since you were literally the age of six, made the technicalities of what it was blurry and a little confusing— for you couldn’t even remember when it was that you started loving satoru.
maybe it was that very first day when he skated over to you, wobbly and clumsy with a cheesy smile.
and as if it wasn’t already confusing enough of what the two of you were, the way you acted made it ten times worse.
but you’d been that way since forever— embracing each other a little longer than you should, innocently kissing each others cheeks and heads and hands, calling each other pet names and being each other’s dates to every single school dance—
but it was all harmless. not a single bad thought behind it and doing it like a reflex.
it was like you both were line balancing across the thinnest tight rope known to mankind— flimsy and unsteady, always on the verge of toppling over and falling completely into the darkening depths of the truth of what you were, but catching each other just before you did to regain balance back on the rope.
neither of you said it, but if you and satoru ever dared to be anything more than friends, and if something were to happen where you had to break up— you’d lose your first love, your best friend, and your entire career all in one.
the consequences were too drastic— you both knew that.
and you didn’t want to break your promise… so you acted blind to it.
by the time you were seventeen and satoru was eighteen, akira started training you for the international skating union competition to earn a spot for the olympics.
well— she actually started when you were about fourteen, but as the years progressed, her coaching and critiques got increasingly more difficult and nitpicky as well as the moves she taught you, wanting you both to build endurance to it and perfect it so that by the time you reached the age requirement for the olympics— it would be easier to train for it and be formidable competitors against the other pairs.
you and satoru wanted to be olympians more than anything else in your lives, and akira knew just how important this was for the both of you— making it her absolute mission to help accomplish solely that as she saw herself through the two of you.
your dreams were just like hers, and she respected and nurtured the fact with everything that she had.
“up! aaand up! and take her— throw— land oh shit—”
just as you had landed a semi complex throw jump, you lost balance and landed right on your ass, sliding across the ice on your side.
it was rare when you fell, and you absolutely despised when you did.
“fuck!” satoru quickly skated over to you and knelt down. “are you okay?!”
“why can’t i land that man?” you whined, covering your eyes.
akira smoothly traveled over to you both.
“it’s okay! we just learned it today sweets like— right now… you’ll have it down in the next five minutes.” satoru smiled softly, carefully helping you up on your skates and checking you over.
“don’t overly punish yourself, y/n.” akira reached and pinched your cheek. “i love that you’ve always been so serious about your technique, but you have to leave room for error my love or else you’ll choke yourself out.”
satoru ran a soothing hand along your back and you smiled cutely up at him, his heart jittering so much from it that he had to quickly retract his arm.
you nodded, always taking satoru’s and akira’s words seriously like inscriptions to a stone wall. “okay!”
he grinned and kissed the side of your head before taking your hand and leading you to first position like always.
akira smirked.
“are you guys together yet!” she blurted from across the ice and you both choked as she skated over.
“are we— are we—” you stammered.
“what?” she breathed out, placing her hands on her hips. “are you at least in love?”
satoru’s blue eyes bulged open with a furious pink tint to both of your cheeks.
“aki!” you whined, embarrassed. “stop it—”
“have you guys at least gone on one date?”
satoru pouted. “no.”
“i’m—” you played with your fingers. “i’m going on one today—”
“you’re what?!” he whipped his head in your direction, eyebrows furrowed.
“yeah…” you looked at him. “i’ve never gone on one and some guy at school asked me so i— i just thought—”
you thought it’d do you some good, since the one you wanted you couldn’t really have.
“are you actually..?” satoru trailed off, an unfamiliar strike of something in his chest making him a little upset.
but he knew damn well what it was.
“but—” akira stared at you wide eyed, pointing at satoru. “but it’s— it’s supposed to be—”
“aki!” satoru quickly grabbed her arm and lowered it, eyes snapping to you next. “is it that one guy you told me about? from your english class?”
“uh huh.” you fidgeted. “he asked me again and i felt bad saying no so i— said yes…”
satoru swallowed, nodding.
“oh you big dummies!” akira groaned. “we’ll talk about this later or else i’m gonna go into fucking cardiac arrest from frustration—”
she skated off to the edge of the rink and out, leaning on it from the outside with her head dramatically hung.
you both got into starting position, but you faltered when you noticed satoru was oddly quiet and stiff.
“…toru?”
he blinked down at you. “huh?”
“you okay?”
“oh!— yeah.” he smiled weakly. “i’m fine baby.”
“you sure—”
“what time is your date?”
you gnawed at the inside of your cheek. “it’s a bit after this... i told him to just give me time to shower and get ready.”
“if he can’t accept you stinky then he’s not for you.” he shook his head in distaste. “he’s already failing in my eyes sweets absolutely flunking. maybe you should cancel it? yeah i say cancel it—”
you laughed, heart in your throat as your eyes gleamed up at him. “i can barely accept you stinky so i wouldn’t blame him—”
“hey!” he placed an exaggerated hand on his chest. “it’s not my fault i literally put my heart and soul out on the ice just for you to skate all over me—”
you gasped offendedly. “i don’t skate all over you—”
“do too!”
“do not!”
“do to—”
“you guys!” akira called. “you know i love it when you guys love on each other it makes me so happy and envision your wedding but right now we have to grind!”
you both froze up and snapped your heads in her direction with red faces, whining.
“aakkiii!—”
you practiced what you had of the routine a couple of more times, a few new moves and jumps added after each run until akira called it a day upon noticing you and satoru were practically sweating your asses off and messing up several times out of exhaustion.
“good job today you guys!” she smiled, patting you both on your shoulders. “i feel like the next time we meet we’ll have the choreography down... from there we just need to perfect it and you should be good for the next competish, okay?”
you both nodded and thanked her, sweet smiles on your faces as she reached up and pinched a side of both your cheeks.
“my little babies.” she cooed. “oh how you’ve grown! you guys were so little when we started now satoru is huge man jesus christ—”
she lifted her hand and reached up to measure satoru’s height from his forehead, her passing it over the top of her head and eyes widening at the huge gap.
he laughed and puffed up his chest. “i got big and strong too aki see?” he flexed an arm. “see? eh?”
“that you did!” she laughed brightly, ruffling up his hair. “the strongest.”
you giggled and skated over to the edge of the rink to pack up, internally panicking a little that you guys went overtime and it was almost time for your date.
“satoru..” akira whispered, looking over her shoulder to make sure you weren’t listening. “what’s going on? you still haven’t asked her out? i thought you said you were gonna do it.”
“no..” he mumbled. “but we can’t. and she knows that too so— so what am i supposed to do—”
she gawked. “do you not see what’s happening?! she’s gonna go on a date with someone else! off with this stupid fear you guys have already seriously.”
“we caan’tt aki.” he pushed sadly. “it’s too risky.”
“but it’s not though!” she threw her arms out. “you guys have known each other since practically birth i feel like if it wasn’t meant to be you would’ve separated by now!”
satoru gnawed at his bottom lip in thought, eyes trained to the way your bows moved in your hair as you swung your duffel bag over yourself, smiling softly once he realized you had kindly packed his things for him too as you sat on the bench and waited for him to take you home.
akira sighed.
“it’s not my place to tell you guys what to do… but love has no limits. you know that.”
he nodded, smiling weakly at her as they skated out of the rink and prepared to lock up, akira hugging you both goodbye with a family kiss to your cheeks and you separating ways with her for the day, but not before her reminding you guys of practice tomorrow and that she loved you over her shoulder.
satoru was dreading you going on your date as he drove— the both of you normally talking about random things like always but his mind unable to stray from the fact that you were actually giving some random dingbat a chance.
it was rare when either of you would talk to or date other people, never even as your heads have always been so focused on figure skating and competitions… but also on each other— taking care and loving one another that you never needed anybody else since you were everything to satoru and satoru to you, and you were both confident that absolutely no one could ever step up to that level.
so why were you going on a date?
but he shouldn’t be like this. he knew that. there was a silent agreement between the two of you to never fall off that thin tight rope and keep each other balanced. and you were allowed to see and date whoever you wanted— something that he probably should do as well to try and get over the fact that you’d never really be his.
satoru pulled up to your driveway and shifted his gear into park.
“thank you toru!” you smiled sweetly, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“you’re welcome.” he murmured. “can i— can i come in with you? and hang while you get ready?”
you quirked a brow. “i thought that’s what we were already doing silly.”
“okay well invite me woman!” you both got out of the car and walked up the steps to your front door. “you can’t just assume. what if i was busy? what if i also had a date? hm?”
you gave him a sly grin as you twisted in your keys to unlock the door. “do you?”
“… no.”
you giggled and pushed open the door, the both of you immediately clasping your hands over your mouths to keep your laughs in at the sight of your mother sprawled out on the couch dead asleep with drool coming out of her mouth, the tv softly playing in the background as you quietly shut the door, went up the stairs and into your room.
satoru sat on your desk chair lazily while you quickly hopped in the shower to get ready for your stupid date, staring at the framed photographs on your nightstand that all consisted of you and him over the years, smiling softly at his favorite— a picture of the two of you when you were babies, cheek to cheek with huge smiles at the park as you held ice cream cones in each of your hands, satoru more than sure akira was the one who took that picture.
the sound of your door clicking shut pulled him from his thoughts as you walked in, drying your pretty hair with your little fuzzy towel and throwing it in the hamper once you were done.
“oh! i was gonna show you! i got these ribbons the other day—” you got down on your knees and looked under your bed, sticking a hand in and pulling out a white box as you picked it up and shuffled with your knees closer to satoru— sitting back on your ankles.
“—i was running out of ribbon so i got these!” you held up the box and satoru took it, examining the various pastel colors with warm eyes. “some of them are polka dotted and i thought that was cute.”
“it is sweets!” he agreed.
satoru loved the ribbons in your hair, and you’d always wear them without fail because you knew just how much he did.
“i wanna start wearing bows too.” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you giggled.
“are you saying you wanna steal my brand toru?” you picked up a blue roll of ribbon from the box, a color that matched satoru’s eyes. “thought you were an honest man?”
he gasped. “i am an honest man! is it not obvious enough when i help you with your math homework? when i sacrifice my dignity and text you answers during your tests?”
you giggled and unrolled a strand of ribbon. “not when you eat all of my sweets that you actively dig through my room for—”
“but they’re always the strawberry gummy puffs!” he whined. “they make me a slut.”
you playfully rolled your eyes and stood, grabbing your little scissors and snipping off a piece of blue ribbon from the roll, stepping in front of satoru and leaning.
“watcha doing?” he asked, placing his hands on your waist.
“i’m putting a little bow in your hair before i leave!”
he hummed. “don’t think it’ll look as good on me as they do on you.”
you blushed, taking little pieces of white hair from the top of his head and wrapping the ribbon around, tying it the same way you’ve been doing for yourself since you were the age of nine.
you took a step back once you were finished and laughed. “you look cute toru!”
he raised a silly brow. “do i still look big and strong?”
“big and strong and pretty—”
“please don’t go.”
you stilled.
“what?”
satoru looked down, his bangs hiding his gorgeous eyes as he did.
“on your date.” he mumbled. “don’t go.”
you placed your hands softly on his shoulders, and his hold tightened a little around your waist.
“why?”
“because like i said if he doesn’t accept you stinky then he can’t have you when you smell like vanilla—”
“toru...” you spoke sternly, softly. “why not?”
you didn’t know why you were pushing it so much… maybe you were trying to see if you could get it out of him— if he had the will to actually say it unlike you…
and you hoped to god he would say it.
he slowly lifted his head and propped his chin up on your tummy, a sour expression on his face as he puckered his lips to the side like a little fish.
“dunno…” he muttered, his gaze flickering to yours and a sense of guilt swarming his chest at the uneasy look you had, his face relaxing as he sighed.
“sorry.” he smiled sheepishly, pulling back and letting go of your waist. “i’m kidding you have every right to—”
“m’not going.” you mumbled as you slid your hands away, looking down and playing with your fingers.
“huh?” he furrowed his brows. “no baby go you should go—”
“i don’t want to.”
you never did in the first place. you had foolishly thought that letting someone else in like this would be good for you and help you establish some sort of… barrier with satoru so you weren’t always suffering so fucking much.
but you were absolutely stupid for that.
all you’ve ever wanted was satoru, and doing something to pull you away from the type of relationship you had with him (whether platonic or romantic you had no freaking clue), was not only hurting you, but hurting him.
you didn’t need anyone else, truly. all you needed was satoru and his silly smile and dramatic antics— to spend time with just him and skate and eat dinner together after practices every night while watching horror movies, laughing so much over his screams that your stomach hurt while he whined about how you were making fun of him.
that’s all you needed… just satoru.
regardless if there was something more in question.
“you don’t want to?” he repeated softly. “why?”
“you know why, toru…”
you had said it so softly he barely caught it, but he did, his breath hitching in his throat.
that was the closest you two had ever gotten to acknowledging it.
you both were silent for a moment, the soft murmur of your tv downstairs filling the void as you looked at each other, tense and waiting for either of you to say something… anything.
but it was like the gravity of the foreseeable consequences settled onto your shoulders, and the pair of you could only sadly smile.
satoru stuck his pinky finger out towards you then.
“birds of a feather?” he murmured.
you breathed out a little through your nose and looped your pinky with his, nodding.
“birds of a feather.”
he kissed his thumb and you did the same before locking the promise.
for the rest of the night, you and satoru watched a bunch of shitty unknown movies to try and see who would break and laugh first— you feeling bad that you had to cancel so last minute on that guy from your english class, but not regretting it at all as you watched satoru scarf down two slices of pizza in one sitting and nearly throw up, you almost falling off the bed from laughing so much and him having to catch you midway down and pull you back up, saying that he was your hero and therefore you should give him your last stash of strawberry gummy puffs as a reward.
it was nearly two am when you and satoru finally settled down, both sprawled over each other on the bed as you stared up at the ceiling and talked about literally anything that came to your minds— stubbornly fighting off sleep for whatever unknown reason in the dark.
“you know this is aki’s last olympics right?” you spoke softly, your arm propped up as you watched the way satoru played with your fingers.
“yeah..” he replied. “i don’t really know how to feel about that.”
“me neither.” you shook your head. “but she said it came at a perfect time because she’d been wanting to retire for a while.”
and now it was yours and satoru’s turn to try and fill the legacy she had built.
he hummed, delicately interlacing your fingers together as the outline of it through the darkness made you blush and smile, the nooks between his digits blessedly made entirely just for you as your fingers slotted perfectly in each spot every time.
and satoru silently vowed for the millionth time in his life that he would always be your hero and keep you safe, a promise that was already tied into your birds of a feather contract, but needing to repeat it to himself anyways while he listened to the sound of your voice talk about your excitement for the upcoming olympics.
and my god were you excited, the both of you— looking forward to seeing akira gracefully take home her fifth fucking gold medal like she always did with no repercussions, seeing her fans and the mass amounts of support she got every year with bouquets and teddy bears and picture taking, but also looking forward to spending even more time with her— for not just practices… but for forever, even more than you already did now as you two were greedy and just loved akira.
you were looking forward to forever, the three of you.
until akira’s accident.
“oh my god i’m gonna throw up—”
satoru hurled over just as you both stepped onto the bleachers at the olympic arena, you laughing and placing supporting hands on his shoulders as you followed your mother and satoru’s to your designated place by the front.
“toru i told you you’d make yourself sick if you didn’t leave that damn dessert table alone.”
“there were cinnamon rolls baby. cinnamon rolls how on earth could i possibly just walk by a platter of cinnamon rolls—”
“okay!” you giggled, carefully leading him to sit down and ruffling his hair once you settled. “i get it! you love cinnamon rolls.”
“not as much as i love you—”
“yuck!” you stuck your tongue out and pushed him away by his cheek, him laughing loudly as he shooed your arm away and grinned.
“toru— this is the last time we’re gonna be sitting here in the bleachers watching aki.” you mentioned. “isn’t that fucking nuts?”
“now i’m gonna cry and throw up.”
“no!” you giggled and nudged his shoulder. “then you’ll make me cry.”
he smiled and leaned over to plant a quick kiss to your cheek, reaching up and fixing the bows in your hair before looking straight ahead, his sparkling blue eyes staring at the rink.
the crowd roared suddenly and a mix of big and tiny flags of several individual countries waved in the air as you and satoru jumped and screamed when akira glided out with her skates and glittery dress, a huge dazzling smile on her face as she waved at the crowd, her eyes scanning around quickly before they finally landed on you and satoru.
as if she wasn’t already smiling enough, it grew bigger at the sight of you both practically over the fucking rink calling her name, her blowing you both a kiss and connecting her hands together to form a little bird, fluttering it up funnily and making you laugh before spinning around and going to starting position with her partner.
“oh she’s gonna wipe again.” satoru breathed out. “wipe absolute buttcheeks.”
you cackled as you both watched her routine— incredibly fast paced and technical, filled with spins and throw jumps and lifts as she made it known that it was her last year and wanted to leave with a mark, you and satoru absolutely mesmerized by the choreography as a dramatic symphony of a classical piece drummed through your ears by the speakers.
each move was executed beautifully, you and satoru at the edge of your damn seats as akira’s partner lifted her by the arms to settle over his shoulders into a split formation— halfway through the routine already.
“maybe we could do a move like that for when we compete!” you suggested over the music. “i feel like technically it could—”
a hand flew over your mouth as you watched akira topple and slam to the ground upon coming down from her split lift, the spinning blade of her partner slicing through her abdomen as her head nastily collided with the ice— the crowd screaming in terror.
“oh my god!—” your chest moved frantically and you and satoru looked at each other, horrified faces as you watched the backside of her limp body on the ground surrounded by paramedics, her partner hovering over her in complete and absolute distress.
and there was so much blood.
blood that pooled all around her figure and stained her shimmering dress, blood that wouldn’t stop fucking spreading as a stretcher finally made it out on the ice.
“baby.” satoru’s voice shook. “why isn’t aki moving.”
“i— i don’t know—”
“aki!”
you both snapped out of your shocked daze and screamed over the rink and jumped, shoes slipping against the ice as the two of you tried to reach her through your panicked tears and calls, security speeding through and pulling you both back as you watched the paramedics lift her frail body onto the stretcher and away from the rink.
“that’s—” you sucked in a sharp sob. “that’s my aunt please let us go—”
“you need to stay out of the rink—”
“fuck you!”
satoru shoved security away and grabbed your arm, wishing you had your skates on as you both practically crawled over to where akira was being carried out, not giving a single shit about the way your mothers yelling demanded you back as security had to literally pull you and satoru by the ankles, further and further away from the scene and away from akira until the only thing left was her pool of sickly crimson blood in front of you, you and satoru wailing.
akira died at the hospital later that night.
the collision of her head against the ice brought such blunt force trauma that it caused irreversible brain damage, and with the amount of blood that she was already losing from the laceration of the blade— those elements combined didn’t give her a single fighting chance at survival, her fate sealed from the moment her body hit the ground.
it was completely unexpected… an incident like that had never happened in not just olympic partner figure skating, but figure skating competitions as a whole— the severity of the situation so grave that the complex move akira and her partner performed that led to her death was banned from the olympics moving forward.
and you and satoru were fucking ruined.
ruined and crying and clutching over her arms and hands at her hospital bedside, it scaringly cold and stiff and not her usual warmth at all as you couldn’t accept that this was your reality, that akira had left you both all alone after not only her initial familial love that you’d gotten since birth, but after nearly a decade of giggles and skating, her picking you both up from school and cussing up a storm because it made you and satoru laugh as kids, buying you ice cream and taking you out for beach days because she said the sun was good for your skin, harassing you and taking a million pictures of the two of you as she uttered over and over again that love had no limits— your dream of forever with her cruelly severed over the sport you all loved most.
yours and satoru’s mentor, friend, your fucking mother figure— was gone.
your aunt was gone. your own blood.
the entirety of that bullshit situation sort of settled into your minds by the time her funeral came— painfully holding back tears as your family members gave their speeches and final wishes before the lowering of her casket, you and satoru not saying a single word throughout the entire thing until it was just you and him standing in front of her grave site— your mothers waiting for you in their cars.
you both chose not to give speeches. you couldn’t.
“toru.” you sniffled, drowning in your tears as satoru strained to keep his back, lips pulled into a thin line.
“yes pretty.”
“this is so fucked.”
satoru breathed out a weak laugh and let a couple of tears slip down his cheeks, wiping them with the sleeve of his black suit as he grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, squeezing it.
“diabolically fucked.” he responded.
there really wasn’t much you could say at that moment in time, the two of you staring at the carvings on her tombstone as the wind softly blew over the petals of her flowers and letters, the day cloudy and cold and just fucked as you silently choked back sobs and whimpers, satoru lamely trying his best to stay strong for you— be your hero as he pulled you into his chest and squeezed you with everything that he had, nose buried in your hair as his tears fell and dampened a few strands.
“birds of a feather, toru.” you spoke softly, both of your frames shaking as the saying itself came from none other than akira.
he firmly nodded, lifting his head and kissing your cheek twice hard before looking at you.
“birds of a feather sweets.” his red teary eyes made your heart ache. “you can’t leave me too, okay?”
you scoffed and wiped your eyes, a sad smile on your face. “i could never… you know that.”
it didn’t really get easier from there, as everything in your lives reminded you of akira.
and though your mother was grieving the loss of her sister, she wanted to be left alone, and the only person that really understood the level of mourning you were on was satoru— him always there in the blink of an eye when you would call him in the middle of the night crying your eyes out while he held you, or when broken sobs wrecked through satoru’s trembling body as he cried into your chest while you held him and vice versa, endless amounts of ‘i miss her’s’ and ‘bring her back’s’ as you took turns depending on the day rolling on the floor unable to physically breathe over the loss as you tried to anchor each other back to normalcy, wondering how the world could be so cruel and continue spinning when you’d just lost half of your hearts.
but it did. it continued to spin and turn and carry on as you and satoru day by day tried to patch over what happened, be there for each other and heal each other as you graduated high school and caught up with satoru in college, still together and still in your stupid limbo of ‘is there something more’ except worse, and still inseparable three years later after akira’s passing.
it didn’t hurt any less, but the days definitely got easier… some harder than others as the time you spent with her became cherished distant memories, feeling eternally grateful for the way she raised and took care of you, for the work she had done, and for the legacy she had built for figure skating olympians around the world.
and because akira was so good and taught you both just as so, satoru and you had a little name of your own as you’ve been sweeping competitions since the age of thirteen, ninety eight percent unbeatable and competitive as other pairs always knew who you were the minute you stepped onto the ice, eager and curious to see if you would make it into the olympics when the time came just like your mentor had done.
some deemed it cheating— unfair due to the fact that you had a four-time gold medalist olympian training you since childhood, but that assumption quickly diminished after her passing when you both continued to wipe competitions and take trophies home purely based on your talent.
and you both agreed to continue your careers without a coach, a decision that didn’t even need to be thought twice over— and you were twenty and satoru twenty one when the time drew near to try for the olympics.
finally.
“my legs are gonna fall off and my balls are gonna droop to the icy floor if you don’t give me a kiss right now.”
“toru!” you giggled loudly, pushing his face away as he puckered up his lips and made obnoxious kissy noises, pulling you in by the waist. “toru focus we’re on a time crunch—”
“time crunch where?” he whined, stomping his blade down on the ice. “we’ve been at it for so long already i’m cold i’m thirsty and i think we should go to that cute christmas festival patch thing you told me aboouuttt!”
“right now?” you asked. “i don’t know toru… i had a set goal for us tonight and if we don’t get it—”
“oh you damn perfectionist.” he scowled, letting you go and quickly skating to starting position. “fine.”
you gave him a knowing smile and skated over to his dramatic sulking figure, kissing his cheek softly and wringing your arms around his neck, pulling him in.
“let’s run it three more times and then we can go to the festival, okay?”
he jumped up like a little kid, eyes hyper and wild. “really? honestly? truly?”
you nodded, gleaming up at him.
“is this a prank?”
“jesus toru you’re making me think i’m keeping you hostage here with how excited you are—”
“yiiippeeeee!—” he grabbed your upper thighs and lifted you before spinning on the ice, the both of you laughing as he roughly turned until he gradually came to a stop, big goofy smiles on your faces as he did so.
satoru loosened his hold as you slowly slid down against his body, faces close and lovesick as his half lidded eyes looked at you, lips stinging to plant directly over yours after so many years of hopeless pining and avoidance, still refusing to acknowledge the situation, but it glaringly obvious at this point.
“what?” you whispered, your eyes fixed on his lips as your blades touched the ice again.
he softly shook his head, blue eyes greedily drinking in your pretty face as he retracted a hand from your waist and brushed his palm over your hair adoringly, hand raising to cup your cheek gently.
was he about to…?
you swallowed, hands gripping his black t-shirt as you waited… anxious, hoping that he would do what you thought he was about to do.
but satoru squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace and quickly kissed the corner of your mouth before turning his back to you and skating to starting position— leaving you incredibly dumbfounded and disappointed.
satoru’s skin felt like it was on fucking fire as he looked at your stunning doe eyes blinking at him from across the rink, heart pulsing uncontrollably as you slowly skated to him and got into position, neither of you uttering a word about it as you ran the choreography three more times like you had agreed on.
you and satoru have had plenty of moments like that… but lately?
it’s been borderline dangerous with how close you’ve gotten to breaking your unspoken rule.
by the end of practice you and satoru excitedly packed up for the christmas festival, more or less stumbling out of the doors of the rink and locking up before throwing your things in satoru’s car and speeding off to the main plaza, cheesy dorky smiles on your faces as you babbled on about all of the things you were gonna do once you got there.
“the s’mores stand! the s’mores stand!” satoru whipped his head comically back and forth between you and the snowy road. “we have to go there and get five nothing less and maybe more—”
“wait! i wanna get some of that hot chocolate we got last year!” you quickly reached and gripped his shoulder. “the one with the chocolate bits in it! and the whipped cream! and the drizzle—”
“oh fuck yeah how could i forget?” satoru made a turn, the shining glimmering lights of the festival and christmas trees coming into view and riling you both up in pure exhilaration. “i gulped down like four cups of those and then threw up in a bush.”
you laughed loudly and shook your head. “i forgot about thaaaattt! toru you always shove shit in your mouth and throw up we have got to work on that—”
“no we don’t!” he cheesed, reaching over and patting over your hair— the smooth ribbon of your thin bows sliding underneath his palm. “i love sweets even if they hurt me. what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. where there is no struggle there is no strength—”
“the only strength i see is a man hunched over puking his guts out.”
“hey!” he pouted, pulling into the lot before parking and turning off the ignition, the both of you hopping out of the car and locking it as you walked towards the main entrance. “and i’ll do it again so what.”
you giggled and interlocked your fingers with satoru’s. “silly silly.”
the festival was lively— huge decorated christmas trees everywhere you went as twinkling fairy lights adorned every corner and direction of the lots premises, several open stands that continuously wafted chocolate and cinnamon and vanilla throughout the entire night that had satoru practically floating through the air following the scent, kids giggling and running around as the soft familiar tunes of christmas music hummed in the background.
“what do you want for christmas, sweets?” satoru asked while chowing down a giant s’more.
“a kiss!” you quipped, giving him a cute silly look as you blew a bit of air over your steaming hot chocolate.
he stopped chewing.
“really?” satoru spoke with his mouthful. “i can literally give that to you right now c’mere—”
“no toru!” your cheeks buzzed a vibrant pink, completely flustered. “you’re supposed to say a big fat no!”
“now why the fuck would i do that...” he grumbled, shoulders slumping from disappointment as he took another big bite of his dessert.
you giggled, looking at him apologetically before standing on your tippy toes and licking a bit of melted chocolate from the corner of his mouth.
and he blinked at you, dumb and still as his cheeks copied the same exact shade as yours.
my god.
you were about to turn him into a freak.
“okay now you have to kiss me.”
“why?!” you laughed. “you had chocolate on your face! i was helping you out.”
“yeah right you little minx.” he scarfed down the last bit of his s’more and threw his little paper tray in the trash can behind him, putting his hands together and shaking off excess crumbs. “that’s actually the most torturous thing you have ever done to me.”
“dramatic!” you exclaimed, laughs escaping you and increasing as you watched satoru’s flustered face pout and glare at you.
you breathed in deeply and settled down, standing up straight as you took a tiny sip of your hot chocolate and smiled. “now i feel bad.”
“you should.”
“can you forgive me?”
“not unless you kiss me.”
“toru!”
“what?!” he pushed. “baby it’s only fair! really! just once and that’s it. a harmless peck nothing more we aren’t doing anything crazier.”
you gnawed at your bottom lip in thought.
technically he was right… it was just one little peck, entirely harmless and cute and wouldn’t have you both falling off of that thin tight rope you guys were still balancing off of.
this would only shake it a little… but then you’d be fine! right?
you were too far gone in the considerations of his proposal as you looked at his absolutely breathtaking blue eyes and face, somehow looking even more angelic as his pinky cold cheeks and nose and scarf covered neck did nothing but make you fall deeper in love with him than you already were.
how someone could look as good as satoru was beyond you.
“just—” you peered up at him. “just one peck okay?”
his eyes widened.
holy shit.
“yes!” he breathed out. “yes yes just one.”
“toru.” you spoke sternly. “i’m serious.”
he frantically nodded, arms already snaking around your waist and bringing you in.
you both couldn’t believe it.
you were about to have your very first kiss.
the two of you leaned in then— softly, timidly, afraid as satoru’s chocolate breath fanned against your nostrils and filled your lungs, lips coming closer and closer until they met in a simple, solid, tiny harmless peck.
satoru felt like his veins were about to pop and explode at the feeling of your delicate soft lips finally on his, the feeling actually fucking unreal as his fingertips went numb and his body tingled all over.
but it quickly became clear that it was not just one harmless peck.
because when it was supposed to be the time for you both to pull away, you and satoru only opened your mouths and kissed deeper— eyelids blissfully closed as your lips smacked so slowly and tenderly, the two of you actively relishing in the moment and just drinking each other’s mouths in as they moved and shifted, deep breaths through your noses as you daze-fully made out with the faint fuzzy sound of jingle bells and christmas music growing increasingly distant.
you tasted so sweet. just like he’d imagined.
but the moment came to and end when you both snapped your eyelids open in realization and released lips, pupils frantic and wide as you searched each other’s eyes for any sign of anger since you both had slipped up and did way more than just a peck.
but there was nothing. obviously there was nothing like that as your shoulders relaxed simultaneously and bashful smiles crossed your faces.
“you taste like chocolate.” he grinned.
you bit your bottom lip in a smile. “so do you.”
“twins.”
“uh huh.”
“i love you.”
you stilled.
you’ve told each other that thousands of times for years, since childhood.
you’ve always said you loved each other and have both known it was laced with those unspoken feelings you had, and you accepted that for as long as you could remember.
but somehow… in someway… it just felt different this time around. profound. more serious.
“i love you.” you responded.
satoru smiled softly and leaned his forehead against yours, basking in each others authentic infatuation for a moment before pulling away.
“can i get another s’more—”
“no!”
satoru ended up getting his second s’more, and you surprisingly ended up partaking in satoru activities and downed three fucking cups of that hot chocolate you loved so much, your tummy full and about to literally burst, but not really giving a shit as you and him were having so much freaking fun— buying little christmas trinkets from the santa shop and building tiny snowmen in the snowy play area filled with a bunch of kids (satoru literally making a tiny dick for one of the snowman and you immediately destroying it and wacking him), even skating in the rink but purely just for enjoyment and not a single thought of what you do professionally crossing your minds.
you stayed there until it was nearly closing time, money absolutely spent from all the things you bought, but your souls happy and warm as you happily walked to the car so satoru could take you home.
on the drive there, you showcased all of the trinkets you both had bought, a particular one catching your eye that you remembered you hadn’t shown satoru yet.
“oh! i got this one—” you dug your hand in the white plastic bag and pulled out a little snow angel, beautiful and glossy as the angels face blushed and smiled. “at the santa shop!”
“it’s cute baby!” he smiled. “for you?”
you shook your head. “i got it for aki. for the next time we visit her.”
his heart softened, nodding.
you and satoru tried your best to visit her grave as often as you possibly could, sometimes nearing four times a week to pay your respects and chat with her for a little while, filling her in a bit on your lives to bring back the feeling of what it was like to just talk to her in any way you could, like you had the fortune of doing once before.
“it kinda looks like her.. doesn’t it?” he questioned, pointing to the figure.
“it does right!” you expressed. “that’s why i got it… it reminded me of her.”
“she’ll love it.” he grinned, gently running the pad of his finger against your cold cheek before turning his attention back to the road.
you and satoru didn’t mention the kiss again as you were funnily still in shock over it, but the butterflies in your stomachs and the sole memory of it did more than enough as you climbed into bed with an already snoring satoru, him sleeping over for the night (when was he not) as you nudged your way under his arm and cuddled yourself in his chest, his slumbered state pulling you in like muscle memory.
you both only had two more practices left before the international skating union competition. once there, you and satoru had to land a spot in the top three chosen by the national olympic committee to earn an official spot in competing for the olympics, a task that was already vigorous and exhausting and nerve wracking, but one you both were more than ready for.
general admittance to competing in the olympics was essentially fourteen years in the making, one that wouldn’t have been possible in the first place if it wasn’t for akira.
“i think we should add a spin to this lasso lift.” you suggested, you and satoru taking a break from running the routine and standing by the bleachers during practice— watching a recently recorded take of your choreography to point out mistakes that flew under your radars.
“a spin?” he asked. “how sweets.”
“so when you lasso me around into the lift—” you rewinded the video and pointed. “since you’re holding me up over your head and we’re balancing with our hands, i say you maybe push me up to kind of like— propel me to do a triple rotation spin back down.”
“and then from there i catch you?”
“yeah!” you nodded. “and we’re traveling across the ice.”
satoru pursed his lips. “that’s kind of hard… you sure?”
“we’ve done worse toru.” you laughed. “i feel like this would give us more points.”
“oh it definitely would.” he nodded. “okay baby.”
“yay!” you cheered. “let’s practice the lift and propel on the mats first because if not i’m gonna eat shit.”
satoru laughed and sat down on the bleachers with you, quickly taking off his skates before standing and kneeling in front of you, untying your laces and slipping your skates off for you as you cutely smiled, him feeling like your little hero and knight in shining armor even if it was for something so minuscule.
he loved doing things for you.
in the middle of you and satoru practicing the move on the mats, your mother came in through the front doors of the ice rink.
“hi!” she greeted, holding up two wide rectangular boxes. “your costumes came in!”
“oh thank god!” you breathed out, satoru setting you down on your feet before you both ran to see. “i thought they weren’t gonna come in on time!”
“are they cool?!” satoru tumbled out. “do they scream please let me in the olympics?!”
you snorted and shoved his shoulder playfully as you unwrapped your boxes, your eyes shining in delight at the sight of your rhinestoned pale baby blue dress, a shade you purposefully picked out as it matched the color of satoru’s eyes— you lifting it with your fingertips from the box and gushing.
you turned it around and held it up against your frame as satoru pulled his top out— a white, tight long sleeved low cut v-neck button up that you already knew was gonna hug his yummy biceps so good, the thought of it making you bite the inside of your cheek as he checked over his black slacks.
your mother clasped her hands together, holding it to her mouth as her eyes gleamed over the two of you.
“i can’t believe it’s happening now.” she spoke softly, you and satoru diverting your attention to her and smiling. “for so long it was always just a distant thing you know? but now it’s here. actually.”
“fuck i know right.” you responded.
“language, y/n.”
“but i’m twenty!” you whined, pouting as satoru snickered behind you.
your mother rolled her eyes and cupped yours and satoru’s chins under her hands.
“good luck next week, alright? i know you guys will sweep.” she pushed. “make aki proud.”
the smiles on your faces grew, nodding as she squeezed your chins and released.
“oh! satoru—” your mother picked up her jacket and swung her purse over her shoulder. “your mom won’t be home for the night her trip got extended until tomorrow… you can sleep over at our house if you want so you’re not over there alone? or y/n can stay with you?”
“oh okay!” he spoke kindly. “thank you for letting me know!”
she smiled and nodded, hugging you both goodbye before leaving the rink.
your head whipped in his direction.
“toru if i sleep over at your house we can watch horror movies and actually scream as loud as we want without worrying about waking anybody up.”
his eyes bulged open. “oh my god you’re right! dibs i get to choose—”
“fuck!—”
by the end of practice you and satoru mastered the addition you added into the lasso lift, performing it beautifully on the ice over and over again until it was like simple reflex, calling it a day after a while and packing your things up to drive to satoru’s house.
you both took turns stepping in the shower to get rid of the sticky sweat that lingered on your skin, changing into comfy pajamas after as you tiredly settled in satoru’s big comfy bed— him flicking through his selection of horror movies and debating which one to pick.
“do you wanna watch something gory or just horror.”
“gory!” you perked up. “i need to work on not being so queasy.”
“but you seem fine when i throw up?”
“that’s because i’m used to it.” you laughed, head resting on his shoulder as he picked a movie and threw his remote somewhere across the bed, his arm coming to wrap around your tummy and pull you in.
it wasn’t like the selection mattered anyways, because fifteen minutes into the movie you were already falling asleep, hand resting on satoru’s torso as he continued to watch it— for some reason still wide awake even after skating for hours.
your sleepy sudden movements from your hand made him weirdly stiffen and relax every single time, your brows furrowing at the feeling and eyes fluttering open when he wouldn’t stop doing it.
“toru… are you still ticklish?” you mumbled sleepily.
he stiffened again.
“no.” he answered softly. “why..?”
you lazily grinned.
“youuu suureee?”
terror struck him as he sensed exactly what the fuck you were about to do.
“please spare me please spare me—”
you jumped on him and tickled his entire upper body, satoru laughing and gasping as he smacked your hands away and twisted and turned, his strong grip making it hard for you to tickle him at one point as you stubbornly swung a leg over his waist and settled over his lap, attacking him while he yelped and screamed.
“baby!” he gasped. “baby please! have some mercy is this how much i mean to you?!”
you giggled and finally stopped, hands retracting as you settled them on your hips. “that’s what you get for lying to me.”
“i was lying for my safety.”
“uh huh.”
you both grinned, satoru’s eyes occasionally flickering down to you straddling his lap with your pretty plushy thighs and blushing, trying to keep his gaze on yours to refrain himself from doing something a little too mental and weird.
but it was too fucking late, because it took no time at all for the blood to rush to his pathetic dick and harden.
surprisingly though, you were the one that was mental— the feeling of his cock against your clit undeniable as the uncomfortable shifts of satoru’s waist only stimulated it against your little nub and made you bite down hard on your bottom lip, shaky breaths leaving your mouth as it was getting harder and harder for you to restrain yourself from satoru’s godlike existence.
and your body was just not listening as you timidly rolled your hips over his crotch— your short shorts criminally thin as you felt just how big satoru’s length was, mouth watering as your palms timidly settled over his chest for stability, grinding on his cock harder.
satoru’s eyes were blown out as he watched you do something so— so lewd, his mind wandering if you were fully and properly there as something like this was absolutely breaking your unspoken rule, and you were more strict about it than he was.
but he didn’t want you to stop. god no.
at this point, you and satoru were off that metaphorical tight rope and hanging on by two hands— having both failed at keeping each other balanced as you rolled and rolled your hips deliciously on his dick, his chest quickly rising and falling at the feeling of your warm pussy over his groin and at the sight of you using him to get yourself off.
your little needy mewls made his hands tremble as he threw his head back on the pillow, eyes pathetically fucked out over something so simple.
“fuck me..” satoru groaned, hands coming up to rub over his face as his hips lifted to meet your grinding.
him doing that broke you out of your haze and you stiffened, satoru taking his hands away from his face with pinched brows at the sudden halt.
what happened?
“okay!” you laughed nervously, an alarmed expression as you swung your leg off of his lap and scrambled under the covers, pulling it completely over you as you shamefully looked anywhere and everywhere but satoru.
but he was out of it.
undoubtedly out of it now that you did what you did… wanting more, wanting all of you as he snatched the covers off of your frame and you squeaking as a result.
“why’d you stop.” he whispered, thumb raising to trace your bottom lip.
“i don’t— i don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“yes you do—”
“absolutely not—”
“i want you.” he cut you off. “i want you bad and i know you want me too so let’s just— let’s just do this once, okay? once please just to see what it’s like and it’ll never happen again.”
your eyes remained wide as you looked at his desperate frantic ones, his hands already kneading at your waist and thighs.
he was entrancing you into his proposal again, exactly the same way as when you both kissed for the first time at the festival as he leaned down and nibbled at your jaw, slotting himself in between your legs.
“do— do what?”
“fuck.” he mumbled, rolling his hips down on your pussy rough and you gasping at the sensation of his big cock against your clit again.
you whimpered as he rutted into you, hands flying to squeeze his biceps as his wet mouth moved down to your neck, licking and gnawing as he waited for your response.
“but isn’t that—” you stifled a moan. “isn’t that too far toru?—”
“please baby please.” he picked his head up and looked at you. “just once i swear once so we see what it’s like and get it out of our systems and never do it again. i promise.”
he needs to kiss you right fucking now.
your eyes fluttered closed as he continued to hump you, licking your lips as you weakly tried to look into his eyes.
“you swear?” you breathed out. “swear it just once and that’s it—”
“i swear i swear i swear—”
“okay then fuck me toru please—”
satoru nearly cried as he ripped himself away from you to frantically pull off his shirt and pants, him slapping your hands away when you tried to take off your own clothes as he wanted to do it himself— lifting your shirt over your head and downright tearing your shorts in half as he flung them down and across the room, your little pink bra and panties set actually turning him into a complete mess as he hovered back over you and shoved his tongue in your mouth.
you still tasted just as sweet as he remembered.
“been dreaming of—” mmpf— “kissing you since you let me, sweets.”
“yeah?” your lips moved sloppily with his as you snuck a hand in your panties and dipped your fingers in your pussy, collecting your arousal. “you missed me toru?”
“uh huh.” he breathed hotly against your lips, hand coming to slide underneath your bra to cup your bare tit. “every fucking night i’d jerk my dick dry thinking about it.”
his words made your clit twitch as you pushed him off your lips.
“open your mouth.”
satoru did as told without a peep and opened it with his tongue out, your hands coming out from your panties as you reached up and slipped your fingers in his mouth, his lips closing in and sucking everything you had to give him as he salvaged up your arousal.
“fuck—” he released your fingers. “is this from your pussy baby?”
“mhm.” you moaned.
your arousal was even sweeter.
“my god—” he grabbed your wrist and licked a long stripe up your palm. “you dirty fucking thing m’gonna have to taste for myself and see.”
you gasped. “what?”
satoru sat up and pulled your wet panties down your legs, biting down on his tongue hard at the sight of your angelic bare cunt before him, slick and shiny and pretty as you unclasped your bra and spread your legs for him— eager and ready and not a single other thought in your brain besides the one that was screaming for satoru to stick his dick inside you.
“toruuuu!” you whined. “quit staring and fuck me.”
his cock pulsed.
“patience sweets, i wanna taste you first.”
you expected satoru to just lower himself down and shove his head in between your thighs, but you were dead fucking wrong as he stood, grabbed your waist and yanked you high up, sitting you on his shoulders as you squealed and gripped his hair.
“wait toru isn’t this uncomfortable i—”
he scoffed. “fuck no. i’ve been lifting you my whole life baby this is nothing.”
your speech lodged itself in your throat as you felt his tongue lap at your folds and clit, slobbering and filthy as he ate and scarfed you down just like his usual daily sweets, you by far his absolute favorite as he slurped your little pussy up and made you squeal and moan.
satoru walked over to the wall and leaned you up against it, taking your thighs off of his shoulders and placing his hands underneath as he propped you up and spread your legs wider, your jaw dropping at his slimy tongue flicking and him slabbering his mouth side to side rapidly until your legs shook and you saw stars.
“toru—”
he grunted, tongue prodding at your hole and you jumping.
“i think— i think i’m gonna cum and i—” pant “i don’t wanna—”
satoru separated his mouth from your pussy with a squelch and looked up, smiling big.
“too bad!”
“but—”
he spit on your cunt and you gasped.
“i said too bad.”
he dipped back in and fully devoured you as you mewled, messier as he slushed his tongue all over and you’d never experienced something like this, something that felt so fucking good as you started cumming all over his face in record speed regardless of how hard you were trying to hold back.
“yummy.”
he let go and you dropped down as he quickly caught you, turning and throwing you on his bed as he climbed over you— wrapping a hand around his cock and jerking as he kissed and swallowed your lips up again.
“you want me to make love to you or fuck you?” he slopped against your mouth before pulling back, yours and his eyes fluttering open to look at each other.
your legs were still shaking by the eat out he gave you seconds before, finding it hard to get your words together as his handsome deluded face stared at you.
“i— um—”
he placed his lips next to your ear.
“you want me to fuck you like my wife or fuck you like a little slut? or both?”
“both toru please—”
he grinned, coming back up as he parted your legs further open and lined his leaky tip with your hole.
“i can do both!”
satoru pushed himself in and you choked, hands clasping over your mouth as you felt him bully his big cock through and leave you a blabbering crying mess under him— his chest heaving at the warmth and softness and stickiness of your cute gummy walls, his years of imagining and theorizing how you’d feel wrapped around his dick all completely debunking themselves at the real feeling as you whimpered and clenched your hole.
“jesus christ—” he shivered, swallowing thickly as his trembling fingers settled on your waist, him slowly reeling his hips back before pumping in. “you’re— you’re warm.”
you dropped your hands and wiped your cheeks as you hiccuped, the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of your walls incandescently euphoric as you embarrassingly already felt yourself wanting to cum again when he had just stuck his dick inside of you— you wanting to ride out this moment for a bit longer and not finish so quickly like you had done on his mouth.
“am i being too mean pretty?” he huffed, thrusts now quick and curt as he gripped your bouncing tits and pinched your perking nipples, the sight of your little tears shamefully turning him on.
you frantically shook your head and tried to clear your brain. “n—no!—”
“good.” he smiled, a little crazed as he let go of your boobs, placed his hands on the backside of your thighs and pushed your knees up to your chest, picking up speed as you squealed and whimpered, utterly taken aback by how rough satoru was being considering the fact that he was such a goofy and kind and loving person on the daily.
oh… what years worth of pent up sexual frustration can do to a man.
satoru whined as you milked his dick, wheezing as he hammered his hips up and slapped against your skin, your body jolting and bouncing uncontrollably as his bed squeaked loud and obnoxiously.
thank god his mother wasn’t home.
“i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this—” satoru babbled, his critical thinking out the fucking window as he just tumbled out totally random but honest confessions as your ears eagerly drank up every word and made your hole tighten.
“yeah?” pant “f—for how long baby?”
“for so long—” he whined loudly, fucking you faster as your mouth hung open and you gripped his wrists for support. “you’re everything i’ve ever w—wanted—”
“i— i’ve only ever wanted you toru— fuck! you’re big.“ you moaned, loving the way a huge deranged smile spread across his face as his hips pistoned into you and his hands pinned you down.
“cum on my dick baby please cum on my dick i want it i want it—”
your toes curled and you squealed, vision flashing white as you let out a high pitched scream at the intense buzzing feeling, your bodies hot and sticky and wet as satoru leaned over and shoved his lips in your ear.
“can i— can i cum inside?” he choked through gritted teeth as he came close to spilling his seed. “please i wanna cum inside—”
“but m’not on the pill—”
“please please baby i beg you—” hah! “i don’t wanna cum anywhere else—”
your eyes fluttered shut at his words and you quickly nodded, his hand cupping your face as he thrusted in one last time and pumped his cum entirely inside you without an ounce of hesitation for the consequences, his horny mind actually crazed and solidifying that there was no fucking way in hell he was gonna accept just friends from this point forward.
what a stupid thought.
“mmm…” you slowly moved your hips a little, feeling his cum all inside your ravished walls as you licked your lips. “your cum feels hot toru.”
not even warm, hot as it slushed and moved inside you with every movement you made, some of it dribbling and coating your outer folds as you bit your bottom lip into a smile and craned your head up to his neck, nibbling and giving satoru tiny kitten licks as he trembled and struggled to stay afloat and not give out his upper arm strength— trying to prevent himself from squishing you.
satoru pressed a soft tender kiss to your cheek then before sitting up and delicately sliding his dick out, running a soothing hand over your tummy as he did so and giving you a lazy smile.
he suddenly raised his pinky to you.
“birds of a feather?” he murmured, other hand running from your stomach over to your thighs now as he just lovingly felt you up, you smiling with rosy cheeks as you linked your little pinky with his.
“birds of a feather.”
you both kissed your thumbs and locked your promise, deciding then that you should probably shower once more before getting into bed to officially sleep— but deciding to shower together as you softly and steamily made out under the misty hot running water, body and mind relaxed as you just swallowed in the ambience of each other, you both not only holding on to your metaphorical tight rope with one hand now, but it actually on the verge of snapping as a whole and sending you both free falling.
and for the next couple of days, you and satoru were feral.
years and years of doing fucking nothing with pure restraint and fantasizing did a number on you both as any chance you got you were making out on your bed, his bed, and even in satoru’s car after your lectures— your hand teasingly going lower and lower until you’d shove a hand in his pants to pull his dick out and pump, your body leaning across the console and mouth going down to bob and suck as he moaned and pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail to guide you and your pretty bows and fuck your mouth just to hear the sounds of you choking, eyes from time to time frantically looking around to see if no one was around as you blowed him.
and you did that basically all of the time for the next three days until the final practice just before the international skating union competition, satoru physically unable to leave you alone and unscathed as he constantly pinned you down to eat your pussy or suckle on your soft tits, his hand tightly clasped over your mouth in your room when your moans would get too loud as he fingered you, his long fingers squelching and abusing your cunt until you were finishing all over his hands again and again.
but you two having actual sex didn’t happen again apart from that night— satoru a man of his word since he promised you would only do it once… unfortunately. but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do other things, right?
except by the final practice, satoru was absolutely fucked off at the fact that neither of you had brought up the potentiality of being more than just friends, especially after doing all of those lewd acts.
he was so sick of it.
and so were you, quite frankly, but instead of being completely over it like satoru, you were afraid… afraid of what could happen and the possibility of losing him if you both indulged, if you let yourselves put your freaking careers on the line.
and satoru was the one person you couldn’t bear to lose. not ever.
“we look good sweets!” satoru cheesed, rotating around in the ice rinks dressing room mirrors as you had your costumes on for dress rehearsal and refinements, both of you glittering and shiny and looking like a professional ice skating pair as you examined yourself, readjusting your straps and hugging your torso.
“cold.” you shivered. “maybe i should’ve had it as a long sleeve… shit.”
he laughed and placed his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down quickly to create frictional heat as you smiled at him gratefully. “nah, it’s cute like this! you’ll warm up once we run it a few times on the ice.”
you nodded, the both of you walking out of the dressing room and to the rink, skillfully putting on your skates before pushing yourself on the ice and gliding across.
“can you show me the uh—” satoru looked to the side in thought once he was on the ice in front of you. “the part where we skate in unison and have our arms up in an L? it’s in the chorus of our music—”
“oh!” you nodded and skated a bit away from him to demonstrate.
“i just wanna see if my form matches yours and we look clean.” he smiled. “and then show me the triple axel after that.”
you gave him a cute thumbs up and pushed yourself off, gliding gracefully and smoothly across the ice as satoru was supposed to be watching you to try and fix his form, but finding himself transfixed once again by the way you seamlessly skated with no sense of struggling effort— arms poised and flowy as your dress moved and fluttered with every twist and turn until you gradually propelled yourself up into the triple axel and landed correctly without a slip or wobble.
the level of difficulty and technicality you skated reminded him of akira— but your style, your movement, and the way you carried yourself was entirely your own.
you made figure skating look beautiful.
you were beautiful.
you slowed down on the ice and skated over to satoru.
“were you able to see? did you match me?—”
“you skate just like her.” satoru spoke softly, and you faltered.
he didn’t need to clarify who he was talking about, as you always knew.
“you’re just saying that.” you pursed your lips to keep yourself from smiling, or crying, you didn’t know.
but a compliment like that meant the absolute world to you.
“i’m not.” he shrugged, skating over to you and taking your hands as he glided with you to starting position. “you always have baby. and i know that’s what you’ve always wanted. i’m sorry i don’t say it enough.”
your eyes softened. “toru that’s not something to be sorry about at all…”
satoru was so kind.
you both skated together and ran the choreography a couple of times, spinning simultaneously and satoru lifting you again and again throughout the routine and still performing your lasso spinning lift successfully, arms around his shoulders and faces close as the wind whipped through both of your costumes and hair from traveling across the ice at such a speed before coming to a sudden choreographed halt at the end of your number.
you had slid down satoru’s body to plant your blades back on the ice when he had enough.
“please stick your tongue in my mouth.”
you choked on your spit and slapped a hand over your mouth.
“toru no! absolutely not we can’t anymore okay—”
“what are we.”
you froze.
“huh?”
“what are we.” he repeated, eyes dead locked on yours and hard. “are we together? are we not? are we friends? what are we—”
“we’re— we’re friends toru—”
“oh fuck no.” he let you go and created a little bit of space between you. “don’t give me that shit we’re not friends.”
“w—well we can’t—”
“i’m your man.” he stated firmly. “i’m your man i’ve been your man for years and i’m tired of avoiding this sweets! it sucks!”
“we’re putting everything at risk if we do toru we can’t!”
“i’m your man.”
“no you’re not—”
he cut you off. “your mouth has been on my dick. we’ve had sex. we’ve kissed we’ve made out we’ve told each other i love you if that doesn’t tell you that we’re together then what the actual fuck?!”
“oh my god toru i know i know!” you groaned, hugging yourself as you anxiously looked at him. “what happens if we break up? huh? what do we do?”
he shook his head. “we won’t.”
“you don’t know that.” you laughed bitterly. “if that happens we lose each other satoru understand that. we break birds of a feather, we ruin our careers, and we ruin us.”
“first of all—” he started. “our birds of a feather promise is to stick together, keep each other safe, and not seperate or fight, is it not?”
“it— it is—”
“so do you really think if we continue to keep each other in this fuck ass limbo of friends that we aren’t already breaking that?” he threw his arms out in emphasis. “we have never been just friends. i’ve known you for fourteen fucking years and we have never been just that.”
you blinked back tears.
“i promise you baby—” he slid closer to you and cupped your cheeks. “that we won’t leave each other. i will fight and try every single damn day to make sure that that shit never happens even though i already know it won’t because you’ve been made for me since birth and we haven’t separated since we’ve met.”
satoru wiped your cheeks. “but i also promise you, that if we continue as just friends, we will break. we’re gonna string each other along so fucking much that we’re gonna go absolutely insane and drive each other away. that is for certain.”
“but— skating—”
“i don’t give an ever living fuck.” he spat funnily and you laughed through your tears. “skating is nothing without you. all the trophies and medallions and the god damn olympics itself with that gold medal is nothing without you. i would give that shit up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you in my life in exchange.”
“and i would do the same for you toru!” you sobbed, his arms immediately wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you in as you sniffled and hiccuped into his chest, him kissing the side of your head repeatedly and soothing a hand down your back.
“don’t cry pretty i didn’t meant to make you cry...” he mumbled, cheek mushed up against your head as your shoulders shook, a huge disgusting pit of guilt in his stomach. “fine it’s okay we can be just friends for a bit longer please don’t cry—”
“no!” you sputtered, pushing him back a little to face him. “i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either toru… it hurts me so much.”
“it does?” he asked softly and you nodded.
“it hurts me too.”
satoru wiped your remaining tears again and fixed the little bows in your hair, a soft liberated smile on his face as he reached down to cup your cheeks and bring your perfect lips to his, kissing you lovingly as the both of you felt like you could finally rest and stop ridiculously hiding your love in the shadows after so many years.
the thin tight rope that you had both been toppling over and rebalancing and holding onto to keep the other from falling, had finally snapped in two, and you and satoru were now in the darkest depths of the truth of what you both were.
except it wasn’t dark at all.
it was light and airy and heavenly, and you wondered why you had been so afraid when there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place, since the one you were falling with was satoru.
silly.
he pulled apart and looked at you, his striking blue eyes and white fluffy hair especially beautiful.
“tomorrow—” he began. “we’re gonna absolutely destroy everyone else there and land a spot in the top three, and then after i’m gonna take you out on a nice dinner and buy every single fucking dessert off the menu, and then i’m gonna ask you to be my girlfriend. okay baby?”
you giggled then, the brightest rosy cheeks on display from the both of you as you eagerly nodded and threw your arms around his neck.
and tomorrow could not come soon enough, because not only were you looking forward to making your dreams a reality and competing against other figure skating pairs from around the world and the olympics itself, but also the thought of officially being satoru’s after years of wishing on little stars and day dreaming about what that would be like for hours on end.
until the moment was here. happening.
the indoor arena was electric and rowdy the minute the competition commenced, you and satoru in absolute awe of the energetic atmosphere as many individuals in the crowd waved their banners or screamed their loved ones names, an ambience very similar to the olympics as you both watched pair after pair perform their hardwork and dedication on the ice, goosebumps on your skin as you fidgeted and jittered.
out of twenty of your countries competing pairs, only three of you would be chosen for the olympics.
and you hoped to god you and satoru would be chosen.
“we’re almost up baby.” satoru patted your head, sitting on a bench in your designated area. “i think it’s two more pairs then it’s us.”
you nodded, nerves closing up your throat as your eyes darted over the rink.
satoru frowned.
“hey.” he placed a hand on your thigh, suddenly wanting to rip your nylon tights off so you could actually feel his skin on yours. “you nervous sweets?”
you nodded again, and he gave you a silly grin.
“don’t be! you’re literally akira the second. we’ll be fine!”
you laughed lightly and leaned your head on his shoulder.
“and even if we don’t land a spot, that’s fine too.” he kissed your head. “it’s our first year anyways… we’ll know the game for next time and we’ll try harder.”
you picked your head up and smiled at him, his words settling your nerves just as soon as the last remaining pair took their places on stage, yours and satoru’s turn right after.
what you didn’t know, was that satoru was just as nervous as you.
but he knew you needed a rock and someone to comfort you— wanting to swoop in like a little hero and save you again… so he kept it hidden.
“fuck i almost forgot!” satoru jumped up and dug into his duffel bag, pulling out a roll of pale baby blue ribbon that matched your dress exactly. “you told me you didn’t have ribbon that matched your costume so i went and tried to look.”
he held it out for you cutely on his palm.
“does this one match?”
you picked up the roll, astonished and mushy inside that satoru actually went out of his way to find this specific ribbon color for you because you had expressed how unhappy you were with the darker shade you had, your eyes looking up at him in complete adoration.
“oh my goodness— thank you toru!”
you quickly undid the bows in your hair and slipped off the former ribbon, digging through your duffel bag for scissors and cutting off pieces from the new ribbon before looping them through your hair and tying, not needing a mirror since you’ve done it for as long as you could remember.
satoru’s cheeks went pink as he looked at your new pretty bows.
“does they look okay?”
“beautiful.” he responded, pecking your lips before taking your hand and leading you to the entrance of the rink.
“okay—” you breathed out. “this is it.”
“what kind of food do you think they’ll have at the dinner place we picked—”
“toru!” you giggled. “not now!”
he smiled sheepishly at you before leaning his forehead against yours.
you stuck your pinky out.
“birds of a feather?”
satoru grinned and looped his pinky with yours.
“birds of a feather baby.”
you both kissed your thumbs and once again, locked your promise.
the announcer over the speakers iterated your names and your country as you and satoru glided across the ice poised and graceful with your arms up, waving at the crowd and giving your mothers a special frantic wave before moving to starting position, unknowing of the way several other pairs and the judges themselves murmured about your reputation and your association with akira.
and you hoped she was watching over you both now. somewhere.
the music begun, contemporary and lyrical as you and satoru slid across the rink, already impressive and entertaining as you performed moves and lifts right off the bat, the sounds of your blades scraping against the ice oddly keeping you in time with your choreography as the number went on.
and you and satoru were feeding off of each other, the chemistry undeniable to a strangers eye that had no idea of your story as you conveyed passion through your expressions, each technical movement bleeding with the fact that you both had been olympic level trained since the age of fourteen and fifteen.
you were halfway through your routine now, the lasso lift coming up next as satoru harbored in his strength so he could properly propel you into that newly added spin.
you skated around him and he lifted you up into the air, the crowd cheering and excited at your beautiful remarkable forms.
except satoru’s hands were slippery.
why?
nerves. he quickly deemed it nerves as he had no time to deliberate since it was almost time to propel you up into the spin, his mind already racing over the fact that the slip in his hands was hindering his strength to keep you up there, and he worried that if he pushed you up, it wouldn’t be enough and you’d come tumbling down— hurting yourself.
but satoru had zero time to decide again as he went with protocol and pushed you up as hard as he possibly could and prayed you would go into your triple axel spin successfully and that he’d catch you.
but the minute that he did, the force yanked him back and his skates flew up in front of him, you falling down and your thigh hitting something sharp before you both went slamming to the ground— sliding apart from each other on the ice.
the crowd screamed and gasped in terror, sounds you were all too familiar with to what you heard three years ago filling both your fuzzy minds as satoru struggled to get back up, his head turning slowly around to see if you were okay and just sore like him—
until he saw your limp body on your side, your back to him with blood slowly pooling out on the ice and staining your pretty blue dress.
satoru scrambled up and skated straightaway in a panic to you before sliding on his knees as he reached you, turning you over and paling as he saw you were unresponsive and out fucking cold.
“baby?“ he shook you. “hey— baby—”
nothing.
why weren’t you answering him? why weren’t you awake?
his brain flashed images of akira’s body the day that she died, suffocating deja vu as the way you looked when he saw you like that on your side was a carbon copy of her from three years ago, his chest picking up speed as you continued to lay limp even after he shook you desperately numerous times like a madman.
and why was there so much blood?
blood that looked sickly bright red against the white ice, blood that stained his sleeves and shirt and hands as he held you up and supported your head, and blood that wouldn’t stop fucking oozing out of your leg as he trembled.
“hey— hey can you hear me?” satoru tapped your cheek rapidly, shaking you gently again with horrified eyes and still not getting a response.
“fuck! why is this happening this isn’t supposed to happen—”
how could he be your hero? how could he stop the blood and wake you up? how could he— how could he fix this how could he take it all back how could he fix this—
“no no no baby please—” he sobbed. “not like aki baby not like her man—”
he shook you again, your head lolling to the side as if— as if you were—
no.
“baby— birds of a feather right? birds of a feather we have to stick together you can’t— you can’t leave right?” he cried, chest heaving and vision blurry and you just felt so cold.
“you’re not leaving you’re not leaving me please not like aki please god—” he cradled you up to his chest in his arms and rocked. “you can’t leave me you’re all i know and i don’t wanna know anything else please baby—”
satoru’s frantic repeated heartbroken wailing echoed throughout the arena as the crowd erupted and moved around in hysteria, him still rocking you in his arms as he turned his head with terrified bloodshot eyes to look at both of your mothers, yours hunched over in a fit of screams and cries as his had her hands in her hair in utter disbelief and tears.
“fuck what do i do!” he sobbed, legs shakily standing as he slipped one arm under your back and the other under your knees, picking your limp body up as he saw a huge group of paramedics run over to him on the ice as he carried you over.
“help—” hic! “h—help me please—”
why couldn’t satoru be your hero when it mattered most?
several of them lowered the stretcher and took you from him, laying your lifeless self on it before hoisting you up and swiftly carrying you away, all of it horrifyingly and painfully similar to akira’s inevitable death.
were you gone?
satoru looked down and saw your baby blue ribbons on the ice, wet and stained with blood, once perfect bows in your pretty hair when he had you awake and breathing.
were you breathing? had you hit your head?
he couldn’t remember.
he couldn’t remember anything but your unresponsiveness, the way your skin was colder than the ice itself as he picked up your ribbons and looked at them in his hands— and the way your blood stretched over for what looked like miles and was still there.
in front of him. taunting him.
was the world so cruel as to take you too?
it wouldn’t. it couldn’t.
you’d never done anything wrong. you’d never treated anybody indifferently as you were sweet and beautiful and talented, always in servitude of others— in servitude of him as you taught him how to ice skate when you didn’t need to at six years old, you already kind and gentle at that young age when you could’ve easily shooed him away like a little bug and told him to fuck off.
and throughout your life too, as he was well aware he was an annoying dramatic piece of shit that whined and cried and ate your stashes of sweets all of the time— but you always just giggling and looking at him with adoration in your eyes, with your cheeky smile, with the little ribbon bows in your hair he loved so fucking much.
oh how he wished he didn’t always take your sweets at that moment. how he wished he wasn’t always an annoying blockhead and made you mad at times with his persistent personality and neediness as he stood there frozen in the rink staring at your blood— dark now and dull, wishing it was him instead of you.
you were knocked out for five days at the hospital.
you and satoru also didn’t make it into the top three at the international skating union competition.
you should’ve, as your score was already higher than any other pair there and only halfway through the routine too— but that’s precisely why you got knocked out.
if you had finished your number, you would’ve landed in the top three, but it ending halfway cut off the opportunity for accumulating more points, and eventually another pair surpassed your halfway score by two points.
but satoru didn’t give a shit. fuck the olympics and fuck the international skating union while your body laid still on the hospital bed for hours on end, him refusing to leave your side as he sat there and stared off into space with nothing in his head but hatred for himself as it was his fault that this happened and his blade that sliced you— eyes red and sunken and tired and refusing to eat or drink.
you had hit your head on the ice, but thankfully the trauma wasn’t anywhere near the severity of akira’s, it only inducing a strong concussion and sending you flying out of consciousness upon impact.
but it was the loss of blood that was the problem.
you had lost so much, too much of it.
it made you weak and frail and unable to do much and satoru worried that that’s what was going to take away your fighting chance of survival.
“you should go home satoru…” your mother sighed, standing by the door of your hospital room, her own eyes red and swollen.
he shook his head no silently.
“she’ll still be here… you need to eat something or sleep please. you look awful.”
satoru smiled weakly and shook his head again.
“m’fine.”
your mother pursed her lips to the side and she sighed again, nodding.
“i’ll come by early in the morning, alright?”
he hummed, giving her a tiny wave as she left and closed the door behind her.
satoru had brought a roll of pink ribbon from your little white box in your room, unrolling the pieces he chose and lifting his hands, taking the ends of your hair and trying to tie little thin bows the way you always did, but huffing softly in irritation when they just looked like shit.
he undid the one he was working on and settled for feeling the material of the ribbon between his thumbs instead.
satoru brought you bouquets everyday too.
sometimes three at a time as he continuously swapped out old flowers and replaced them with new ones, changed their water and poured fresh quantities into each vase to keep them alive, and often picked some more from the hospital garden when he went down to get some fresh air for a minute— the least he could do for nearly killing you.
and satoru had a lot of time to think while he waited for you to wake up— bitter and resentful at the world for letting him sit there healthy while you were out, so much so that he started thinking stupid shit like how he wished you would’ve forgotten him and dismissed his yapping dreams about ice skating when you met so you would’ve been an independent skater instead, so you then wouldn’t have gotten hurt by his idiocy and you wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed like you were now.
or swapped places. him instead of you so he could beat up the fucks that took akira away and beat up zeus or— or aphrodite or whoever the fuck that was responsible for keeping him from you so he could come back to you… unsure if you were doing the same thing as he stared at your resting face.
you should’ve just left him behind.
but he was sleeping when you woke.
arms propped up and crossed next to you on the hospital bed, his cheek mushed up on them and face to the side as you blinked your eyes open and was straight up confused, not a single memory of the incident flitting through your mind… until it did.
and it hit you bad.
your mind reeled with a pounding headache, tears prickling your eyes at the events that plagued through your mind— a part of you knowing there was absolutely no way you and satoru made top three and gutted about it, feeling shaken from the memory alone of you falling and hitting the ice.. but grateful.
grateful to be alive, for you knew akira wasn’t as lucky.
was it because of her that you had lived? had she pulled some strings to change your fate?
your eyes trailed down to a sleeping peaceful satoru, your gaze softening at how tired and broken he looked, bags dark and purple as he snored away next to you, your hand lifting and delicately settling over his fluffy white hair as you smiled that he was here next to you— caressing.
satoru shot up wide awake then as you jumped and retracted your hand, the both of you alarmed and frantic.
“baby?” he grabbed your hand and felt around it, feeling warmth for once as he stood up straight and shoved back one of the sleeves of his hoodie.
“you’re awake? are you actually?—” he pinched his arm hard over and over and you giggled.
you giggled— the sound filling his ears and lifting an undeniable dark ton off of his shoulders as he relaxed, tears automatically brimming his eyes.
“i thought i fucking killed you sweets.” his voice shook, arms gently coming around you and pulling you into an embrace.
“killed me?” you frowned. “toru what are you talking about—”
“oh god you have amnesia—”
“no!” you laughed. “what do you mean by almost killed me? you didn’t do anything.”
“i did everything.” he spoke flatly. “i fucked up that lasso lift. i pushed you up too hard and we fell. i cut you with my blade i made you bleed—”
“toru that was an accident.” you pulled back and your chest hurt over the devastated look on his face, wiping his tears and kissing his nose. “remember— aki’s partner felt just like this and we had to tell him too it was an accident. you can’t control something like that. at all. it’s just unfortunate circumstance.”
“i know but i still feel like—” he wiped his eyes and swallowed. “i still feel like i could’ve done something different. it should’ve been me and not you and i should’ve—”
“toru don’t even don’t think about things like that.” you shook your head. “there wasn’t anything you could’ve done, baby. and that’s okay.”
you gently scooched over on the bed and patted the spot next to yours, satoru immediately climbing and settling in, clinging on to you as he placed his head on your chest with his arm firm but careful around your waist, suddenly feeling how exhausted he actually was from the days he spent restless.
you couldn’t have imagined the pain satoru must’ve gone through waiting for you to wake up. you didn’t know how he even fucking managed as you would’ve been torn into bits and pieces not knowing if he was going to live or not, looking at his limp bloody body the way he had to look at yours and it reminding you of the event that brought you both the most trauma and grief.
you couldn’t believe you almost went out the same way.
satoru confirmed your thoughts later and filled you in on the results of the international skating union competition, rubbing salt into the wound a little more upon learning that you landed fourth, nearly there as you couldn’t help but cry a bit in your hospital bed when he told you that you could’ve had a spot, satoru hugging you and reassuring you that you’d both have your shot at it in the next four years.
your family was relieved that you were awake, tons of people piling in and giving you sweets and food that satoru hungrily eyed and gawked over, you laughing and passing him the ones he particularly enjoyed most as you conversed with your relatives.
and recovery was thankfully easy— doctors orders being just you taking it light and being careful not to bonk your head against anything, as well as taking care of the laceration on your leg— changing the bandage frequently every morning and night, satoru insisting he help you with that and with many other things that you needed as he tried to make up for what he still thought was his fault.
two weeks had gone by of just rest and peace and no figure skating, thinking you and satoru deserved this break, but also secretly petrified of stepping on the ice again after what had happened— neither of you wanting to hurt the other as you avoided the topic of training for the meantime at all costs.
“maybe we should work at a water park.” you suggested one day, the two of you seated on a park bench through the chilly mid january air as you shared a plate of chocolate drizzled strawberries you got from some nice lady and her fruit stand. “be lifeguards!”
“oh hell no!” he spoke with his mouthful before swallowing, readjusting the black round sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “you think i’m gonna be fine with watching random old men savoring after my wife in her little red bikini while i’m off saving some drowning kid? oh no thank you. let the kid drown.”
“toru!” you laughed, smacking his shoulder. “okay then what else?”
“janitors.”
you shrugged. “i like to clean. sometimes.”
“and your entire body is covered in those jumpsuits no stinky old men looking at—”
satoru’s phone buzzed against his jeans and he paused and pulled it out as you giggled, him barely glancing at the caller i.d before answering.
“hello?”
you mindlessly carried on plopping strawberries in your mouth and chewing.
“this is he…. oh hello! yes! how are you?”
you eyed satoru quizzically at his sudden formal change in tone, his eyes glued to the cement below.
“uh huh… really? o—okay! no yes for sure! thank you so much for the opportunity!”
opportunity?
you slowed your chewing and nudged his shoulder gently, wanting him to give you some kind of sign as to who it was on the other line.
“okay, we’ll keep in touch! thank you again!”
satoru slowly removed his phone away from his ear as the other line went dead, staring at his screen and you curiously leaning over only to see his call history log, a random number at the top.
“holy fuck.”
“what?!” you leaned in closer and tried to catch his eyes with yours, his shocked wide gaze slowly flittering to your face.
“that was the national olympic committee.”
you froze.
“shut the fuck up.” you covered your mouth. “toru what did they say what did they say—”
“one of the pairs that made it in the top three got disqualified.” he spat out quickly, shooting up and digging his fingers into his hair as he walked back and forth slowly in disbelief, spinning to face you. “i— i don’t know why i didn’t ask but we got bumped up.”
silence.
“we—” your chest rose and fell erratically, eyes darting around as satoru knelt down and grabbed your hands.
“baby we made it.” he tightened his grip. “we’re competing in the olympics—”
you squealed and jumped up and down and pulled satoru in, the both of you comically bouncing off the walls as you wailed and cried and blabbered on about how you couldn’t believe it and how a chance like this was even given to you, satoru lifting you and spinning you around but stopping and freaking out and apologizing profusely over your injured leg, you shaking your head and laughing, kissing him in return.
“we can’t avoid skating toru.” you spoke once you and him had settled down. “it’s literally what brought us together… and what brought us to aki. and even from you spinning me around like that it reminded me how much i missed skating with you.”
“i feel the same sweets.” he smiled, big and bright and handsome as he leaned over and kissed your rosy cheek. “i miss lifting you up and catching a glimpse of your ass underneath your—”
“toru!”
even though you and satoru were finally on board and accepting of bringing skating back into your lives, it wasn’t to say at all that the fear itself went away when you tried to do lifts or spins in the air with each other— apprehensive and scared as you practiced on the mats way more than necessary before moving choreography to the ice, satoru multiple times chickening out and needing a moment as he was petrified of hurting you again, and you glued in place at the thought of falling and slamming on the ground when you had just survived mostly unscathed.
but this wasn’t the time to be afraid over that anymore, and if akira were here, you both knew she’d smack you upside the heads and tell you to move… to get on the ice and do the sport you both loved and cherished most.
to finalize your dream and make it a reality.
and throughout the month that you and satoru spent before the commencement of the olympics, you trained like never before— no excuses as you worked tirelessly day and night with sweat literally dripping from your faces until every single goal was met and beyond, until every single throw from satoru was perfected and until every axel from you was delivered.
sometime during this month too, satoru finally got to take you out on that romantic candle lit dinner like he promised and asked you to be his girlfriend, him giddy and grinning the whole time and literally spoiling the moment as he meant to give you a chocolate dessert plate that said ‘will you be mine’ in chocolate syrupy letters, but accidentally eating it and smearing the words when he confused your plate with his, smacking his forehead repeatedly on the dining table as the silverware clattered— muttering about how dark it was and how he couldn’t fucking see, but you laughing so fucking much and clutching your stomach that your makeup smudged up at the corner of your eyes.
satoru was reminded again how much he loved you that day, because anyone else would’ve gotten tremendously annoyed and called him an idiot, but you…
you just giggled. giggled and hiccuped like always while he stared at you softly.
the love you and satoru shared stretched far beyond the concepts of what a platonic and romantic relationship was.
the love you and satoru shared was sacrifice. genuine sacrifice and yearn and absolute unadulterated love as you both without another thought would drop your careers for each other, would swap places if it meant the other would be safe from harm’s way, and would endure years of swallowing and pushing back feelings if it meant just keeping one another in your lives forever.
because that’s what birds of a feather was for to begin with.
a promise to stick together. a promise to keep each other safe.
a concept so pure and devoted that it translated onto the ice like no other pair when it came time for the olympics.
“you ready sweets?” satoru breathed out as you both stood in front of each other by the outside of the rink with interlaced fingers, shaking each other’s jitters out. “no matter what happens, we’ve already come so far and done so much, okay? we’ve done what we needed to do.”
“mhm!” you quickly nodded, satoru leaning down before you both rested your foreheads against each other’s with massive smiles on your faces, thunderous cheers echoing throughout the giant arena totally drowned out in your ears as you stared into satoru’s sparkling blue eyes.
“make aki proud.” you repeated softly, and he nodded, you hoping once again she was watching over you both.
you both stuck your pinkies out at the same time and looped them together.
“birds of a feather?” satoru beamed.
“birds of a feather.”
and you kissed your thumbs before sealing your promise.
you both watched the pair that you were going right after perform their routine, beautiful and difficult as you gnawed at your bottom lip in distress.
“toru…”
“yeah baby?”
“some of these pairs are crazy good…” you spoke over the music. “i’d honestly be happy with getting in the top twenty i don’t know if we can—”
satoru scoffed and shook his head, a sly smile as he looked over the rink with his arms crossed.
“nah, we’d win.”
and just like akira had done in her final olympic year— in her final moments, you and satoru made it known that it was your debut, that you had been hungry and desperate for this moment since the ages of six and seven, that you’d been raised and trained by a four-time olympic gold medalist for a decade as you executed the most technical and intricate moves and turns, you and satoru moving as one on the ice and identical as he took your hands and glided on the ice with you, raw emotion in your expressions that read love so clearly that it was impossible to miss.
with each lift, with each time satoru took you in his arms and spun, and with each time he simply held you close and tenderly to his chest as his blades scrapped across the ice with your pretty bows in his view— were all reminders for the two of you that partner figure skating was nothing without satoru and nothing without you.
the privilege of having another way to convey just how much you loved each other through the language of artistic expression and skates and ice, through the feel of each other’s skin, was one you nurtured and looked after and loved as the wind whipped through you and satoru due to the speed of your skates, performing quadruple axels like nothing while dropping the jaws of other figure skating pairs.
and because of this fact alone, how you both truly appreciated each other’s entities and had the indescribable power to correlate that into competitive sport—
was the reason why you and satoru won gold that day.
you and him, on your knees, gripping and hugging one another so hard and crying tears of joy as you both had come so far and gone through so much to get to where you were now, your dream now a complete and total reality as you stepped up onto that podium during the medal award ceremony just like akira had done— representing your country excellently with a big fat gold medal hung over your necks and a big fat kiss from satoru as he lip locked with you up there, flashings of cameras and bouquets and teddy bears scattered all throughout the ice in dismay.
“i love you!” satoru yelled to you over the roaring as you waved at the crowd, your mothers crying and blowing their noses and taking pictures from the edge of the rink as you and satoru cackled and pointed at them.
“i love you, toru!”
“no like seriously!” he put his waving hand down. “i wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. thank you for recognizing that i have love and dreams too baby and for not forgetting about me even when i’ve been the most annoying dipshit of your life.”
“you’ve never been that to me my god toru! where is this coming from?” he hopped off the podium once you two were given the all clear and he held a helping hand out for you to take, you doing so and carefully stepping down.
“reeaally?” he cheesed, cheeky and silly as his big pearly white smile made your cheeks flush. “so you love me then?”
“i literally would not be with you if i didn’t—”
“hooray!” he cheered, throwing his arms up as flower petals flew from his bouquets and around. “my girlfriend loves me! and we’re gonna have rough passionate olympian sex in our hotel room—”
“toru!—”
the love you and satoru shared wasn’t something silly like ‘i like you, you like me.’
it was call me when you get home.
have you eaten yet?
here, let me help you.
whatever you need.
yours and satoru’s souls were exactly the same— blended, intertwined, and stubbornly knotted together as no amount of tug and pull could unravel you both apart, satoru finding over the years that loving you was like muscle memory from the moment he met you, his nerves and reflexes gravitating him towards you on the ice that first time even when he knew there was a huge chance of him slipping and falling, but not being afraid of it at all as long as he just got to you, convinced he knew you in another life as you just felt so familiar the moment he saw your pretty little face.
and you’re so glad that he did get to you… that he stayed with you.
fourteen years of ice cream trips and sleepovers and horror movies from the moment you were teeny tiny babies to adults, experiencing the hardships of your teenage years of loss and grief, to then adulthood and college as you had the privilege of learning to navigate it with another being that was just like you, two little birds with no sense of direction other than to each other.
and it was all thanks to one woman and one woman alone.
“i honestly believe that if she was there, she would’ve brought one of those confetti poppers with dye in it and set it off.” you commented, you and satoru sitting on the grass at her grave site as you leaned your head on his shoulder and his head on top of yours, having literally just come off the plane from being at the olympics— your countries olympic button up thick jackets adorning your figures as your gold medals gleamed radiantly against the sun.
“i wish she was there.” satoru hummed, and you nodded softly in agreement.
“me too�� but i’m sure she was! as a little birdie.”
he chuckled, finding your hand and interlacing your fingers as you stared at her tombstone like you’d done so many times before already… except this time it was bittersweet, you having accomplished what the three of you had strived so hard for at last.
“i miss her.” you murmured. “i miss her cussing.”
your eyes flickered down to her peace offerings, the little snow angel trinket you had gotten her still pretty and glossy and her as it sat happily on her stone platform.
satoru picked his head up and kissed the top of your head, propping his chin up on it.
“i miss her too baby.” he responded softly. “everyday.”
“but— i can’t thank her enough for giving us the bullets to fire with for skating.. y’know..” you ran the pad of your index finger along her tombstone, rough and scratchy as you traced little hearts along the edges.
“and she brought us closer together, did she not?” satoru pointed out.
she did.
a woman who was clumsy and loud and erratic with the biggest potty mouth you had ever heard that was passed down to you and satoru in the blink of an eye… but man did she know what love was as she taught it to you and reminded you both of exactly what it was each and every day.
you and satoru had accepted the fact that your hearts would never be whole again, for akira had taken half of them elsewhere and into the depths of the unknown.
but you were okay with that. completely and utterly okay with that.
for love had no limits.
you wanted her to keep it, as you and satoru stitched the remaining halves of your hearts together to create a new whole, as there was no one else you both would rather have that part of you with them forever besides akira.
and yours and satoru’s stitched up hearts grew increasingly bigger and fonder even after a couple of years later, even after winning three more olympic gold medals, you and him back at the same place in front of akira’s grave like always, sitting and laughing and chatting— but with two little baby toddlers that were half of you and half of satoru as they blubbered on about ‘mama aki’ and her trophies, a delicate twinkling ring on your finger and a golden band around satoru’s as your little family had a picnic over her final resting place.
“papa!” your son exclaimed, satoru immediately turning his attention to him in the midst of scarfing down a turkey sandwich.
“yes my offspring?”
you playfully glared at your husband.
“why do your eyes look scarier in the day?”
“HAH!” you slapped a hand over your mouth to hush your cackling, satoru’s face absolutely taken aback and offended.
“they do!” your daughter giggled. “they do! they do!—”
“baby do something!” satoru whined, shoulders slumping as he threw his head back. “i’m being bullied by five year old’s!”
you giggled and kissed his cheek, his pout quickly turning into a soft little grin as his face flushed pink.
“but your papa’s eyes are pretty you guys! and they match yours!”
“mmm— nope! scary!”
your two twin toddlers giggled uncontrollably as they thought being mean to their dad was the funniest thing in the world, you laughing with them as satoru flopped back dramatically and completely laid down on the grass with his eyes looking straight up at the bright sky.
“s’okay.” he spoke flatly. “if even my pretty little wife thinks my suffering is funny i’ll just burn my eyes to a crisp—”
“toru!” you slapped his knee. “too graphic in front of the kiddies.”
“but my suffering!—”
“mommy mommy!” your daughter tugged at your sleeve and pointed to the top of akira’s tombstone, a cute perfect white and brown bird perched up on the edge and peering curiously at the four of you, the creature not alarmed whatsoever of your children’s sudden movements as they scrambled to get closer to it.
satoru propped himself up with an elbow and stared before you both locked eyes, knowing growing smiles on your faces as he fully sat up— leaning and planting a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting it linger.
aki.
and it was like you and satoru were reminded again of your promise that you still told each other every day.
a promise that consisted of your years together… of your love, of your undying fervor of sticking together, of your need of keeping each other safe…
of birds of a feather.
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taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):
@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @umemiaa @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs @drftnzume @k0z3me @k4zivy @dindjarins1ut @starrnai @tinyray-lovesfood @iloveoldermenn @dazqa @applepi25 @aria-chikage @rose-tinted-kalopsia @runfrme @unofficialsapphire
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coffee-and-geto · 2 months ago
Text
LET ME WARM YOU UP
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summary: satoru comes home after an early morning when he went to the bakery to buy you some pastries, frozen to the bone by the biting early december cold. doesn’t he deserve to find you under the warm comforter where your warm presence hides?
cw: fluff, domestic, gojo has his nose pink from the cold, he’s silly, needy and so in love <3, i have put some pastries i know bc i’m french but ignore them if you don’t like croissant (what’s on ur mind) or pain au chocolat (i agree on this).
wc: 721
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When Satoru enters the bakery — his body draped in a long coat, head wrapped in a knit cap, and half his face hidden behind a large scarf — the gentle chime of the entrance bell feels like a sweet melody mingling with the warm, sugary scent of the quiet, early-morning haven.
Behind the sparkling glass displays are heaps of pastries that make his mouth water. From chocolate croissants to apple turnovers, the variety of treats teases his senses as he approaches the kind, tiny baker, who barely reaches his chest.
“Good morning, young man,” she coos like a grandmother, tilting her head up to look at him. “Feeling like something sweet this early?”
Six o’clock in the morning — was it too early?
Satoru would camp outside the bakery if it meant sharing pastries with you.
He hums thoughtfully. “I’d like a brioche, a chocolate croissant, a croissant, an éclair, and a strawberry tart,” he says, distracted by the vibrant colors tempting him to buy out the entire bakery.
The baker grabs a bag and carefully places his order inside, smiling warmly.
“Will that be all, young man?”
Satoru nods.
“Alright.” She names the total price and hands him the large bag once he pays. “Are you planning to eat all of this yourself, young man?”
A smile capable of melting ice stretches across Satoru’s face, despite being hidden behind his scarf. “I’ll share it with my girlfriend.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet of you.” After he pays, the baker hands him a blue lollipop, the kind that colors your tongue. “A boy like you, who takes such good care of his loved ones, deserves this.”
Satoru accepts it with a word of thanks before heading home, where you’re unknowingly waiting for him, still tucked beneath the warm covers of your bed.
He enters the apartment silently, closing the door with care and removing his shoes and coat in near-perfect quiet. In the kitchen, he wastes no time arranging a breakfast tray, loading it with the pastries he bought and a cup of tea and coffee.
He performs the task with an adorably proud smile, humming cheerfully at the thought of sharing a warm breakfast with you under the blanket, where you’d thaw his December-chilled body.
With the tray prepared to perfection, he carries it to the bedside table and sets it down gently before slipping into the bed. The combination of the soft blanket and your warmth, still lingering in the sheets, begins to ease the cold from his body. His stiff, frozen arms wrap around you, rousing you from sleep.
“Toru?” you whisper, your eyes fluttering open as a yawn escapes your lips.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Satoru murmurs into the crook of your warm neck.
You shiver at how cold he feels. “Did you go out?” You turn to wrap your arms around him, planting a kiss on his nose, pink from the cold.
“Brought pastries,” he hums. “Wanna eat with me?” He blinks at you cutely, his snow-dusted lashes framing eyes as deep and blue as the ocean.
“You did?” The corners of your mouth turn down as you pull him closer. Satoru’s habit of buying things for you without needing to be asked makes your heart ache in the sweetest way. “Of course, my love.” You pepper kisses all over his face. “Love you so much.”
He grins so cutely you want to crush his head in your arms.
Minutes later, you’re both sitting up in bed, the makeshift tray perched on your shared lap as you indulge in a perfect breakfast.
Through the bedroom window, the first snowflakes of December fall onto the balcony, covering it in a white blanket that matches your lover’s hair. The sky, equally white, might’ve seemed dull and cold, but sitting beside Satoru, who is devouring almost all the pastries, brightens the weather.
Once your stomachs are full, Satoru burrows under the blanket, pressing his face against your pajama-clad stomach. A giggle escapes you, your chest shaking gently with the sound.
“What are you doing?” you ask, raising a playful eyebrow.
“Cuddling,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the comforter.
“You look more like a whiny cat, you know.”
“If a whiny cat gets cuddles, then I am one.”
Your laughter bubbles over, warming Satoru, who nearly purrs as your fingers scratch at his scalp.
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a/n: hello guys :)) i know it’s been like two weeks w/ anything but let’s forget that, hmm? so 1st december is the birthday of my bsf haha and sadly the end of fall for me... (i’m depressed bc of this). but, i’m in the mood to write everything fluffy, etc. (saying this while my brain is mentally preparing a big angsty fic for the coming weeks bwahahaha). hope you guys have a nice week and see you soon <33
likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3
tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422
@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq @sanemistar
@monokaix
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hoshigray · 10 months ago
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Satoru and Suguru having a competition over who can impregnate their sweet shared lover first, please?
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𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh my goodness???....you got my attention.
⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - canon divergence; implied geto is still a jujutsu tech sorcerer - satosugu taking turns with you - kissing; making out - lotus (geto) + eagle (gojo) positions - breeding kink - scratching - multiple orgasms - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, of get tf up) - cervix fucking - creampies - clitoral play (swiping) - pet names (angel, baby, my love, pretty girl, princess, sweetheart) - humor - mention of drool + heavy depictions of come/semen.
⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k
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“Oooh—Haahh! Ohhh, God, Suguu, y’ feel so good…!”
“You feel good, too, princess...Hgghh! Shit, Y/n—“
“Yo, can you hurry it up? You know I’m not a patient guy, Suguru.”
Gojo sucks his teeth while watching you get it on with Geto. It was one of those nights when they’d come home and surprise you together. Usually, one would be assigned longer shifts or missions (that one mostly being Gojo), and the other would return home to eat dinner and sleep with you. But there would be those days when they’d arrive home in unison and try to do whatever they can to have you enjoy these rare moments with all three of you.
Sometimes, it would be Gojo taking you guys to some delicious café that sells parfaits that you’d probably like or Geto having the idea to have lunch at the park and enjoy the sun together. But, of course, there’d be those days when simply being inside the apartment, talking about each other’s day, watching a random movie, and then snoring while spooning would suffice. Because it doesn’t matter what they choose to do; all three of you being at the same place is always the best!
Tonight, however, was one of those nights where they’d pull you aside, drown you in kisses and gropes, and carry you to the bedroom for a more intimate occasion. For tonight, Geto and Gojo wanted to fuck you in the hopes you’ll be with child. And what better way for the two best friends to go about such an eventful issue than by a competition to see who can fill you up the most? 
Suguru has you propped on his crossed lap, your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands kneading your asscheeks as you bounce on his cock and wail out his name in pretty notes. This was about the third round of the night, your cunt wet and filled with both Geto’s and Gojo’s cum. The fluids stream down with every jump of your hips from the base of his girth to his balls, the sounds of your union so filthy with the groans and moans that bounce around the bedroom walls. 
Geto sighs and burrows his chin into your shoulder. “Hahhh, oh, stop your crying, Satoru. You finished your turn and didn’t hear me heckle while you and Y/n were doing it.”
The white-haired man grunts with more complaints, to Geto’s dismay. “Yeah, well, I’m not the one who takes longer to finish,” he persists, even if his raven-haired friend frowns. “I don’t want you to be the reason my dick falls asleep.”
“Tch, what you should be worrying about is finishing too quickly when it’s your turn. You act like being faster is better…Heh, maybe you can’t handle Y/n better than I do.”
“You son of a—“
“Hey now,” you’re the one who mediates the growing childish tension between your husbands, turning your face to lock Gojo in a spell with your gorgeous, hooded eyes. “Be nice, Toru; it’s Sugu’s turn now, so you can have me however you want when we’re done here, okay?”
Like a heart-struck fool, pink shades creep into the helix of Gojo’s ears as he happily complies with your request. “Okay, my princess.”
Geto rolls his eyes at his friend’s display; what a total loser. As if he has room to talk because once you turn back to face him and kiss his cheek, his breath hitches. “Come on,” you whisper. “Don’t let him ruin your fun.”
The dark-haired one chuckles before claiming your lips with his, “Wouldn’t dream of it, angel.”
As you two kiss, you rock your hips more to create a steady rhythm on top of Geto. His girth stretches your vagina nicely, and with his pulsing veins, you can feel them rub on the velvety texture of your inner walls. It’s good that the pace is at a respectable tempo, allowing you to feel him at your wits and pleasure truly.
But the best part of this position is how easy it is to stimulate your clitoris. Every time you rock your hips against Geto’s, the bulb rubs against his body and has your frame jolting. It feels so fucking good, having your cunt stuffed with his girth member and graze your walls deliciously while your precious button is being pressed.
The pacing soon goes in sync, his subtle thrusts as you bounce your ass on him while kissing. Your mewls are taken by his hungry lips, sucking on your tongue to evoke more cute noises, your hand coming to the back of his head to massage and grab strands of his onyx hair. He’s so romantic with you and your body, the position making this intimacy so much more personal. Your chasm frequently clamps on his cock when you pull your waist up, making the man below you hiss at the grip.
He breaks the kiss, “Shit, you tighten around me so nicely…”
“Really?” You giggle, laying more kisses on his cheek and ears. It sends shivers down his spine. 
“—Khhh, damn it, I can’t...” Suddenly, Geto thrusts upwards in a faster notion, and you scream to hold on quickly and follow his cadence. “Fuck, you feel too amazing, sweetheart…!” You can’t reply to him appropriately; your only responses are narrowed down to high-pitched whines and squeals. His hands wrap around your back to keep your body close as he chases his climax, his hot face melting with the sweat of your shoulder while he pushes his cock to meet your cervix. “Hmng! Hmmnn, I’m gonna cum, baby…!”
“Ohooo, me too, Sug’ruu, me—Tahhh! Ohhh, Jesus…!” Your clit keeps bumping onto Geto, your nerves getting activated with every rut. Shaky moans leave your puffy lips, and your hand scratches his back at every jab of your delicate cervix. You bring him in for another kiss – this one a lot more rushed and steamy – and your orgasm hits you both from the erratic speed of your hips.
You two sigh heavily into each other’s mouths, your body sinking into Geto’s gentle hold as his cock ejaculates his semen into your throbbing slit. His hands massage your back while his pelvis rolls to grind his dick and have your walls clench onto him more.
With a soft sound, you remove your lips from his, smiling gently while you brush his bangs off to view his left eye. “You love to finish strong, Sugu.”
He chuckles before kissing your nose. “Can’t help it if you drive me crazy, my love—“
“Alright, round’s over!” 
Before Geto knows it, Gojo’s already on the bed, yanking you off his best friend’s lap and laying you down with your back to the sheets. He voices his discontent, trying not to appear too upset. “Excuse you? Can’t let me have a moment?”
“Nope!” He shoves a middle finger to Geto’s face, and the black-headed one almost pops a vessel. “I practically went limp after watching you two for so long. So obverse from the side and let me have my fun.”
“So annoying,” Geto mumbles under his breath, yet the milky-haired one chooses not to listen with a huff and places all his attention on you.
“Now,” Gojo turns to you with half-lidded cerulean eyes, a smile beaming too much that his dimples show up. He spreads your legs to evince your messy chasm; Geto’s come spilling down to the crevice of your butt as he massages your inner thighs. Fuck, so fucking nasty, it had him bite his lip. “You ready for more of me, baby?”
You titter, bringing your legs up your chest and spread to a V-shape. “Yes, Toru, thank you for being patient.”
He snickers while pushing his glans to meet your soapy folds, humming when the excessive come lubes your labia sufficiently for his cock to be inserted. The hug of your walls makes him moan, and you jerk as his left curve scratches the plush itch. “Fuuuuck, so warm and tight for me, baby.” 
His arms support your legs in the air, and the position allows him to initiate with slow thrusts. Your purr at his movements; the curve has you howl with every push, stretching your pussy when he propels himself into you and rubs the upper wall of your vagina. Oh God, feels so fucking good…
You peer to where his dick is plunging into your cunt, silently awing at the mussy display of cum ringing around the base of his shaft and stringing to where your folds are. Holy shit, you chew on your bottom lip and move a hand to finger your clit, silently howling at the swipes you dance around your bud. “OhhhGod, hmmmm, right there…”
Gojo looks down and sees what you’re doing, and he chuckles, “Shit, you enjoying yourself, pretty girl? Hmm?” He ruts into you with sudden haste, and an abrupt hit to your cervix has you almost choking on air. “Like being filled up, huh?”
“Ahhh, y–yesss, I lov—Mmmph!!” He grinds his pelvis down, drilling his length deep inside to scuff your smooth walls. “I love y’r dick so much, Satoruuu…!”
“Awww, look at you playing with yourself,” the view excited him more, increasing his speed to pound into you. You cry out at the poke of your cervix, clamping onto him in response. “Ahhhh, there it is,” he coos while adding more weight onto you, making his rocks precise where he wants to hit. More shrieks fly out your lips, “Wanna be bred so bad, princess? Want me to fill you up again?”
Your head aches, ears ringing from the sloppy sounds of his dick rutting inside you, his balls smack your grundel with every push. “Ahhnn, mmoohhh, ye’sss,” you whisper.
“C’mon, angel, let me hear you.” Gojo places his forehead on your sweaty one, azure eyes examining your expression in a haze. “You want—Nnngh! Fuck…Want me to fuck a baby into you, yeah? Make you a mama? ”
“Yess, ’Toru, yesss!! Give me y’ur babiess, make me all fat and full!!”
“Heh, good, pretty girl; so good for—Khhckk!! Shit, shit, I’m gonna cum…” He brings his lips to yours, moaning to the kiss with you while his hips turn up to a volatile rate. Your whimpers are sucked and drunk by him, your eyebrows furrowed from the cyclical hits to your cervix and rubbing on your silky tunnel.  
Your arms come around to his shoulders, beckoning him to deepen the kiss as your body gets ready for the orgasm that hits you like a train. Trembles climb up your frame, whines muffled, and drool slips out your mouth down to your chin. Your cunt contracts around his length, milking him into his own release and filling you with his essence, adding to the pile that squelches and trickles down to the sheets beneath you. 
Gojo nibbles on your lip as he pumps every last bit of his load into you, his tongue twirling with yours until he removes his face from yours. He smiles, dimples greeting you with disheveled strands of snow-white hair sticking to his forehead. Too distracted by his charm for him to sneak in more harsh thrusts to your aching frame. 
You gasp aloud, “—Ohooo! Satoru, nooo! I’m too sensitive nowww..!!”
“Mmmm, sorry, princess,” an apology with a smile doesn’t match, placing a kiss on your forehead as you wail for him while he ruts into your vulnerable slit. “You just feel too good, can never get enou—Owwww!!”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Witness to the entire thing, Geto smacks Gojo with a house slipper before pulling him off you and throwing him to the side. The blue-eyed man looks at the other with an annoyed face. “I should be asking you the same thing, you psycho; what’s with the assault!?”
“Did you forget? Your turn is up,” indigo eyes narrow with a dark glint. “So why are you still moving?”
“Oh, quit yapping, giant earlobes! Can’t a guy squeeze in a few more before I get off…Or what, you scared I’d make them pregnant first? Your frail soldiers can’t compete with mine, is that it?” 
“Hah, you tell me, blue-eyed snowflake; you’re the one still trying to fuck into them like you’re afraid your load isn’t enough. Poor guy; can’t be a sore loser too early, now.”
“Choke on my dick!”
“You first.”
The two bicker back and forth while you observe, unable to find the right cue to intervene as you’re still in a daze. You sit on your side, feeling the liquids inside you exit your frame and slide down your thighs.
As they fight, you remember that you had forgotten to tell them that you took a birth control pill earlier today after they texted about returning home together. It wasn’t until after dinner that they said they wanted to try and fuck and fill you to the brim, practically dragging you to the room before you could utter a word to them about the contraceptive.
…Oh well, surely they don’t mean to have a baby right this moment. Plus, there will be other times! So, for now, you watch your husbands argue before you while shaking your head with a smile.
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requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸
© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.
10K notes · View notes
tonycries · 1 year ago
Text
Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy - G.S.
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Synopsis. He knows that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels. And you know that you want nothing more than to stay by his side. After meeting an alluring cowboy at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, both of you are sure of one thing - this must be fate.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, wild west! AU, cowboy! Satoru, mayor’s daughter! Reader, Satoru is SO DOWN BAD, angst, kinda slowburn, friends-to-lovers, bartender! Nanami, cunnilingus, oral sex (female + male receiving), unprotected sex, gun violence, pet names (m’lady, my love, + others), tumbleweed bandits, reader and Satoru are both going through stuff, Gege cameo, swearing, author’s daddy issues come out.
Word count. 12.1k (I’m scared)
A/N. You know how hard it was to make this all cowboy-y. Anyway that’s off the bucket list.
Art by @_3aem on X.
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“So, you itchin’ for a beating from me or yer’ wife?”
Glowering down at the drunk old pervert as he waddled away in fear, you sigh as you dust down your heavy skirts. Typical. The sun beats down on your face as you look up at that familiar faded banner.
Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon
The only bar in your little town of Rustcliffe, and by default the only one around for miles. You hated this place - not the saloon, no, the handsome bartender there was always a sweetheart. But at some point, the comfort of your quaint old town had become too comfortable.
But that’s a story for another time. Right now, you were here to drag your father back home - per usual. 
Rolling your eyes at the cacophony of drunken voices carrying from inside, you step through the dust-bitten swinging doors. 
What hits you first is the stench of cheap alcohol, and then the inebriated camaraderie of the men around you. In the dim lighting of the saloon, you squeeze through the crowded tables and make your way to the bar. 
Not a hair out of place, as usual, Nanami lights up when he spots you. “Well, it’s been a while. Here for the mayor again?” he speaks over the boisterous laughs around you. 
You flash him a smile, “Yeah, you know my father. Fraternizin’ with the voters and all that.” you wave off your father’s excuse to come down here. 
“Certainly takes his job very seriously.” Nanami chuckles, “You’ll find him over by the window, in the back.” he points. 
Tipping your head in thanks, you walk the treacherous track to take your animated father home. When you come in view of his table, you find that he wasn’t alone. Damn, it was always harder to convince him to go when with other people.
You know your father has spotted you by his lively laugh and gleeful shouts, “Ah, my daughter! My beautiful daughter! Whatcha doin’ here? Come come! There’s someone I wan’ introduce you to.” 
A smile slips out unintentionally at his almost-endearing pride. You mentally prepare yourself to say some awkward hellos to some of your father’s old drinking buddies before dragging him home. 
Upon reaching your father, he immediately pulls you into a drunken embrace, wrapping his slightly rocky arm around your shoulders. “This is the daughter I was telling ya about! Prettiest girl in town! Hell, maybe even the country, knowin’ ma girl.” he prattles. 
In his jovial state, he abruptly turns to face whoever he was drinking with, unsteady on his two feet. Probably another old geezer, you assume not taking your eyes off your father until you could make sure he won’t collapse on the bar floor for the third time this month.
Finally, you look up. 
Your eyes meet blue. 
Blue, blue summer skies. 
To Satoru, you were the most gorgeous girl he’d ever seen. As soon as he caught a glimpse of you menacingly threatening that creep outside through the window, every word the mayor said went in one ear and he couldn’t even remember if it went out the other. Too entranced. 
And when he introduced you as his daughter? Shit, it might just be fate.
“C’mon now boy! Cat got yer’ tongue? What happened to that sharp mouth of yours?”
The booming voice of your father snaps Satoru out of his captivation. Damn, he must’ve been staring for too long. 
Mentally praying you weren’t spooked by his speechlessness, he finally speaks, voice slightly shaky at your presence, “Ah- Good day m’lady. Apologies for my impoliteness, the name’s Satoru Gojo.” he tips his crisp white hat. Gently grasping your hand in his, he places a delicate kiss, looking up at you as he awaits your response.
You gaze, slightly awe-struck, at his ethereally beautiful white locks and the impish grin from where he held your hand. His lips were so soft.
“Oh!” you startle at the clap of your father’s hand on your shoulder. Shit, you were definitely staring too long.  Rushing to introduce yourself, you quickly interject a “Nice to meet you, Satoru” before your father starts leading the conversation once more.
“Satoru here is a traveler, arrived jus’ today! Told him people like us could never, I mean imagine, right?” he slurs. 
Your ears perk up at this piece of information, “Oh? Are you really a traveler, Satoru? How admirable.” you gush, previous bashfulness forgotten. Was that…a blush spreading across his face? Couldn’t be - your town's whiskey was known to give people rosy cheeks on occasion.
“Thank you, m’lady. It’s nothing special really, jus’ staying here a while.” he barely gets the words out before you father bellows a tangent - “Don’ be shy, boy! How wondrous traveling is, kids these days could use some toughening up!”
Both of you rush to catch your father as he sways with a passion seen only during election rallies. It takes the two of you to steady the man. As he continues babbling half-lucidly, you cock your head sweetly at Satoru, “Help me take him outside?” 
Satoru thinks his knees might give out then and there.
The air is chilly by the time the three of you step outside, sun making its way below the horizon. Despite your father’s protests that he can ride home on his own, he knocks out as soon as Satoru gracefully mounts him on his horse. Carefully saddling behind him, you try to make sure your father doesn’t fall off of Satoru’s beautiful white Quarter horse.
“You really don’t have to escort us home, Satoru. My ol’ man wouldn’t even feel it if he fell, I swear.” you insist as Satoru holds onto the reins from the ground, feeling bad for bothering him.
“It’s no trouble. After all, Gege seems to like him very much, hm?” Satoru remarks as he turns to his stallion, who attempts to bite him in response, “Can’t say the same for myself.”
“Hmm, how can I be sure yer’ not a serial killer?” you tease, reveling in the sharp laugh it draws from him.
“You’ll jus’ have to take a chance on me, m’lady.” he hums, eyes sparkling with mirth. There’s a lull in the conversation as Satoru pulls on the reins to start walking you down the road, the rhythmic clip-clop! of the horse filling the still air.
“So you travel?”
“This is a nice town.”
Both of you speak at once, anxious to fill the silence, only to sputter self-consciously.
“You can-”
“No no, it’s only customary for a lady to go first.” he hums, looking up at you. 
“Tell me stories of your travels.” you breathe out, eager for any crumb of escape from your little town. 
As you made your way home to the sprawling family ranch, the night adorned itself with twinkling stars that matched the mischievous glint in Satoru’s eyes as he told you bizarre tales from his life on the road. 
“IN MY DEFENSE, it was dark an’ that tumbleweed was shaped suspiciously like a lowly bandit. Hey- don’t laugh- it was a very heated standoff!” Satoru exclaims animatedly as you cackle. 
“Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that, cowboy. Even bandits woulda run away from your clownery.” delighted at the way the moonlight illuminates the blush that tinges his ears. 
Making a fool of himself, Satoru’s stories have you laughing until your cheeks hurt, wishing you could experience them too. You almost forget about your father’s deafening snores and the bite of the wind. 
But Satoru does not. Brows furrowing as he catches your slight shiver, he mentally berates himself for forgetting his manners. How dare he let a lady suffer the cold while he still had his fuckin’ coat! What a sorry excuse for a cowboy, this is worse than that time he accidentally lassoed a rattlesnake.
Hastily shrugging his coat off, he passes it to you with a sheepish smile on his face. 
Face heating up against the cold draft, you breathe in the smell of pine, amber, and something so Satoru. Clearly not as affected as you are, Satoru launches back into his stories.
If Satoru thought his knees were going to give out before then he knows they’re about to now. He aims to keep his eyes steadfast on the road as he recalls his endeavors, because he’s aware that even one glance at you all wrapped up in his coat wouldn’t be too good for him.
Making out the warm lights in the distance, his heart falls as he realizes his time with you is drawing to an end. You seem to share similar sentiments, as you sigh silently.
Once again, a silence falls upon you two (well, three if your slumbering father counted) - but this time, it was serene. You could almost drift to sleep if it wasn’t for your mother’s frantic calls for you from the front porch. 
“Oh, darlin’, I was so worried! I didn’t think it would be so late out!” she frets as Satoru helps you get down from his horse. Hands on your waist searing into your skin. 
Clearly awoken due to the commotion, your dad stumbles his way down and towards your red brick villa. 
“Ah, honey! I’m home…somehow…you know, I met the most interesting fella Something-toru. A wanderer, real interesting.” turning comically to Satoru, he exclaims in delight “Something-toru! How didya get ‘ere?” 
Stifling his laughs, Satoru backs away, claiming he had to leave before your father roped him into more rounds of drinks. Which clearly didn’t work because your mother approaches him, “Stay, Satoru, stay! Can’t have you sleepin’ underneath some tree when you escorted our darling daughter all the way out here.”
Any refusals are immediately blocked out by your very inebriated father yelling out in agreement, claiming he wanted to listen to more of Satoru’s “funny lil’ stories”. Your parents head inside - well, more like your mother heads inside with your father in tow - having taken his speechlessness for agreement.
As you follow, you turn to Satoru, a strange part of you gleeful at the fact you won’t have to part with him for now. “We’ve got an extra room, and it’s got yer’ name on it. The stablehand will stall Gege, c’mon, it’ll be a lot better than the ground.” you grin.
“Hey! The ground can be very comfortable.” Satoru declares defensively, yet follows you inside anyway.
It’s only rushed goodbyes and promises to talk tomorrow morning as the housemaids fuss around Satoru. “Goodnight m’lady.” he’d winked as your head housekeeper clutched her pearls at his dirty boots on her recently polished hardwood floors.
That night, as you lay in your childhood bed, you realize that you still have Satoru’s coat on. Whether from his coat or something else entirely that you did not want to explore, you felt so warm inside.
---
Morning dawns with the symphony of the Western meadowlark that nudges you gently awake - usually. Today, it’s abruptly shattered as the door bursts open and someone barges into your room. Judging by the thud of hefty boots, you knew very well who it was. 
“Rise n’ shine, m’lady!” Satoru’s voice - way too cheerful for six in the morning - chirps out. 
It’s been a few days since Satoru has been staying with you. Now more a friend than a guest, you expect he’s come to wake you up for a morning ride with Gege, watching the sun rise as you exchange silly banter. But it’s so early…
“What do you want, Something-toru.” you grumble out from in-between your comfy covers. You secretly delight at his whines of “How dare you not remember my name, I even told you about the rattlesnake lasso!” 
The warmth of your bed and the melody of Satoru’s voice has you sluggishly falling back asleep - that’s before he promptly sits on your bed. The force of it bouncing you both, making you sit up with a laugh.
Satoru was on your bed.
Satoru was on your bed. Shit, after what your father told him this morning, he wouldn’t blame you if you kicked him out with a punch to his pretty nose right this second. Mentally slapping himself a million times over, he hurriedly gets out the reason he was sent in to wake you up in the first place, “Ah- Um, the mayor is meeting with…someone important, wanted you to come down and meet him. Well, if tha’s all then I’ll be going, Gege won’t brush himself, sadly.”
And before you could get another word out, he’s swiftly out the door. 
Satoru was on your bed. Your cheeks slightly heat up as you realize you didn’t mind?
His words ring in your ears as you get ready for the day - if it was someone important, then you might as well dress to impress. Impress someone else too. Shaking off these strange thoughts from your mind, you make your way downstairs, nose wrinkling at the smell of tobacco that greets you.
You’ve always hated the stench of the overpriced tobacco your father brings out to impress guests. “There she is! My daughter!” your father smiles, beckoning you over. “There’s someone who’s here to see you.” 
Grimacing at the cloud of smoke, you take a seat on the plush sofa beside your father. He gestures at the man seated in front of him, “This here is Naoya.”
Despite his sharply handsome features, you shift uncomfortably at the way he watches you like a predator appraising his prey, eyes following your every movement. Apparently approving of what he saw, his lips curl into a smirk, “Your future husband.” he says saccharinely sweet.
What the fuck?
“Father?” you panickedly turn to him for answers, voice strained at your attempt to keep it even. But your father merely guffaws out a laugh, “Well well, nothing confirmed just yet. But you know with the way things are going with the re-election, might as well get to know a suitor and...” his voice trails off as he takes another puff of his cigar. 
“My apologies sir, I refuse.” you drone out, looking straight at Naoya. You don’t miss the way his smirk grows leeringly as he mutters “You don’t have too much of a say in this matter, sweetcheeks.”  The audacity.
Apparently your father doesn’t hear, a more grave expression taking over his face, “Now I’ve talked with Naoya, you’re of marriageable age. And as young as I feel, I won’t be around forever. You need someone to take care of you, dear. We’ve talked about this.” 
Tears prick at your eyes as you abruptly stand up, disturbing the smoke around you. “I can take care of myself.” you spit out venomously, storming your way to the heavy front door in an attempt to run away from this situation.
In the dim sunlight filtering through the curtains, Naoya watches in amusement as you stomp out of the room. Hilarious, the feisty ones were always the best. 
Over the mayor’s ramble of apologies, he grins “No don’t worry about that. She’ll be mine either way.”
The heavy wooden door creaks in protest as you slam it shut, echoing your frustration. The brisk air is a temporary relief from the suffocating atmosphere inside.
“Talked about this” your ass. Every conversation - if you can even call them that - was a heated warning about being married off before you end up a spinster. You couldn’t care less about ending up alone if it didn’t mean living life with a man that talked to you like that.
Your thoughts block out the crunch of the gravel beneath your boots as your feet subconsciously lead you to the stables, where you used to play hide-and-seek as a kid. More recently, though, it has become an escape from conversations like these. 
Approaching its familiar wooden doors, you catch a glimpse of Satoru, back turned and meticulously grooming Gege.
Sensing your presence, he turns with an easy smile that quickly fades as he notices the deep furrow of your brows. “Hey there, m’lady. Everything alrigh’?” cerulean eyes flit across your face worriedly.
“Oh yeah, everything’s great. Just got introduced to my absolute asshat of a future husband.” as if Satoru’s concerned expression makes something in you snap, the words tumble out along with your tears.
“I don’t even- The way he looked at me- Can you even believe?”
Satoru was about to rip apart whoever this load of horse manure was that made tears streak down your pretty face. Throwing his brush down - which Gege didn’t quite appreciate - he quickly envelopes you in his arms, letting you muffle your sobs.
“Hey hey. It’ll be alright, we’ll work something out. I promise, m’lady.” he consoles. 
Eventually, as your cries die down, you look up to see the rising sun casting a soft glow on Satoru’s features, illuminating the sincerity in his gaze.
The determined glint in his eyes emboldens you, “Yer’ right, I will not be forced into a marriage, especially with someone like Naoya. I’m not anyone’s property.”
A subtle warmth is present in Satoru’s gaze as he utters, “Tha’s my girl.” before reeling back and backtracking immediately, “Ah! I mean- good for you m’lady. Naoya ain’t the one. Anyway, tell me about this ‘asshat’.”
You raise a brow teasingly at his rapid change of demeanor, before plopping down on the hay, launching into your first impression of Naoya and why the rumors downtown of him making babies cry were probably true. 
The sun shines high in the sky as you lay there in peaceful silence, only to be broken by the doubt weighing heavy on your mind. “I’m scared.” you admit.
Satoru turns from his place beside you from the hay, “It’s alright, you got Gege and myself beside you. If Naoya ain’t the one then he ain’t the one.” 
Your eyes meet his twinkling gaze, “Yeah, he’s not the one.”
The air grows charged with something unspoken as the silence stretches out. Satoru can feel the tips of his ears burning at your words - stop it Satoru, she didn’t mean anything by it. As always, he retreats into humor to break the crackling silence. 
“I’d help you hide the body, y’know. Then you can have a shotgun wedding with whoever you want to share your days with.”
“Oh yeah? What if he turns out just like that asshat?” you challenge. 
“Well, if it doesn’t work out, you can always run away with me. Fightin’ tumbleweeds together.” Satoru makes light of the situation, in an attempt to etch that beautiful smile on your face once more. It works, as you throw your head back and laugh.
“Yeah, I’d love that.” you get out in-between giggles. 
If someone looked at you like Satoru did, you probably wouldn’t mind marrying them. A voice whispers in the back of your mind, sending your brows furrowing once again.
Meanwhile, Satoru finally had a name for your future not-husband - Naoya.
Urgently getting up and removing the hay stuck to your clothes once you hear your housemaids calling for you, you leave Satoru with a grateful smile that had him swooning out loud immediately after the stable door shut - to the very visible judgment of Gege.
It felt like a knife in his chest when the mayor tittered secretly to him about your future husband this morning, thoughts of you getting married plaguing his mind all morning. Well, if you were happy then it’s fine, isn’t it? 
He was halfway through imagining you in a beautiful dress of white when you’d arrived with a cloudy expression covering your gorgeous features. If Satoru had thought hearing about your fiancé was like being stabbed, then the despair on your face made him feel like he was completely cleaved in half. 
You deserve someone that deserves you. Probably not him. Certainly not Naoya.
Walking back to the house to fetch his riding gloves, he’s lost in the thoughts of standing off against a faceless man calling himself your husband when he bumps into somebody.
“My apolog- Asshat?” Satoru blurts out at the man testily raising a brow at him.
“Excuse you, barn boy?” he fumes, at the nickname that slips by. Ah, he’s done it now. Lips tweaking into a forced smile, Satoru grits out, “Ah, apologies, sir. Cowboy tendencies.”
The air is tense as Naoya mutters, “Keep those to yourself.” He moves to walk past Satoru, before stopping close enough to utter words meant for only him to hear, “And stay away from my future bride. I saw the hay on her skirt, yer’ insane to think you’d have a chance, barn boy. Go back to wanderin’ around.”
Satoru stands rooted to the spot as Naoya walks off, too many emotions he can’t name whirling inside him. That morning, he stalks off for his longest ride since arriving at Rustcliffe - not coming back with Gege until well after midnight. 
---
To Satoru, long rides always mean interesting dreams. Right now he was in a tap-dancing competition against a one-eyed alligator who looked suspiciously like your father. It’s a shame - he was winning too - that the competition is suddenly crashed by an angel calling for him. 
“Satoru…Satoru!” 
An angel that sounded like…you?
“Satoru if you don’t wake up I’m feedin’ your boots to Gege.”
His eyes shoot open, yet his sleep-addled brain still struggles to process you standing over his bed, soft hands shaking his bare shoulders lightly. “Angel?” he rasps out. 
You huff out a laugh, “No, I’m here to drag you to hell - or close enough at least.”
Face burning at already making a fool of himself before noon, he sits up in bed, blanket sliding off to reveal his toned upper-half.
Shit, it should be illegal to casually have a body like that. 
Trying your best to avert your eyes from the dips and curves of his sculpted body, you continue, “My father’s holdin’ Rustcliffe’s annual Harvest Hoedown in a few weeks, the whole town’s gonna be there. You made it just in time for some dancing lessons.”
“What makes you think I need dancing lessons?” Satoru raises a brow playfully. You take a brief moment to admire the way his sleep-tousled hair curtains his alluring eyes, before replying in an ominous tone, “I need dancing lessons.”
Wow, you really did need dancing lessons, Satoru notes as he stifles a laugh when you step on the poor instructor’s foot for the fifth time this afternoon. 
Locked in the stuffy studio, he recalls the way your father demanded that you not step one foot outside until you mastered the upbeat waltz for the hoedown - putting Satoru in charge of making sure you don’t slip away. “It’s stupid really, he’s never had a problem with me sitting out before. All because that asshat will be there…” you’d muttered hotly on the way.
Ah yes, that asshat. Sleep weighs heavily on Satoru’s eyes from riding all night long, yet his words still ring painfully in his ears. Who did he even think he was to have a chance with you? 
Well, it’s alright, Satoru will be out of this town in a few months, and you’ll marry some man of your choice that could give you everything you could ever want.
The only thing that snaps Satoru out of his overthinking tirade is the abrupt pause of the music and the heavy sigh the dance instructor lets out - clearly having taken a break for his own sake rather than yours. You shuffle sheepishly across the polished floor to where Satoru stands, “Was it worse than you thought?” you grimace.
“Well, you always do find a way to surprise me, m’lady” he teases, chuckling at your dramatic groan. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot the instructor rushing outside for a smoke. Hopefully not because of your dancing…
You scoff in defense as Satoru’s cackles grow louder - having thought the same thing. “Well, I’m sure the great Something-toru is much better on his feet.”
Instead of retorting, he steps one heavy boot onto the waxy dance floor, holding out a hand expectantly. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”
“But, there’s no music?” you raise a brow, yet you place your hand in his much larger ones. Soft, his hands were surprisingly soft. And so warm.
“Did I mention I was a great singer too?” he grins, a small dimple at the corner of his mouth as he pulls you closer. 
Shit, it was way too hot to be cooped up in a dance studio. Or maybe it was just Satoru’s hand around your waist, making your skin burn through your heavy skirts. They flow around you as he glides you gently across the floor. 
You train your eyes steadily on your feet - partly out of necessity, and partly out of fear of meeting Satoru’s intense gaze.
The only sounds filling the small studio were the squeaks of your boots and Satoru’s soft humming of a nonexistent tune. It was beautiful, his voice. It reminded you of calm summer days. 
“Ah- sorry!” you panic as you step on his toe, only for him to pause his melody and huff out a laugh.
“Step on them as much as you want, m’boots are thick.”
You’re sure he meant this only to bate your embarrassment, but something about his words and the warm endearment in his gaze have your cheeks heating up. You focus on your steps in silence as he guides you patiently, tenderly.
Pride grows in your chest as you start stepping on his boots every six steps instead of two. Satoru seems to have noticed too, “Hey! You’ve improved, m’lady.” he whispers, as if afraid to break the stillness in that humid room as you two continue your silent dance. 
Loud clapping from the doorway makes you two jump apart, shattering the serene bubble you’ve found refuge in. “Brilliant! I thought I’d come across my first hopeless case, yet you’ve worked absolute wonders Mr. Satoru!”
Your escape is quick, you urgently drag Satoru out the door before he can be forcibly recruited as a dance teacher. 
You heave out a sigh of relief at your freedom from the treacherous clutches of the dance studio. Merciless sunlight stinging your face, you begin to make your way through the dusty hustle and bustle of Rustcliffe in the afternoon. 
Now, all you had to do was avoid bumping into your father for the rest of the day and you should be fine!
Speed-walking by Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, you’re confused when you’re faced with a few more drunken stares than usual. Surely your new skirt can’t be that flattering?
With a jolt, you realize you’re still grasping Satoru’s warm hand in his. Dropping it as if it burned, your cheeks heat up at the mirth on his features. “Not that I’m complainin,” he grins, “but warn a guy next time you manhandle him. S’not good for the heart, m’lady.”
Rolling your eyes at his joke, you begin pointing out the things to see as you walk the familiar old roads of Rustcliffe, detailing the town gossip.
It really was not good for his heart, Satoru was sure he’ll drop dead very soon one of these days because of you. 
He couldn’t rip his eyes off of you as you animatedly talked about granny Wei wrestling Mrs. Davidson for her secret brownie recipe. 
Shit, he was really getting in too deep.
Night falls fast, a deep shade of blue. 
Saying your goodbyes to Nanami at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon - at a time you knew your father wouldn’t be around - your heart swells as Satoru excitedly rambles about “Good ol’ Nanamin! What a chip off the old block, we became fast friends y’know?”
You didn’t expect your mission to avoid your father to turn into an impromptu Rustcliffe tour. But watching Satoru’s face light up as you told him silly little stories of your childhood, you wouldn’t have changed it one bit. 
Sent off with a cheery “Come back soon deary!”, you’re exhausted by the time you say all your goodbyes to the people of the town.
“You’re loved, y’know?” Satoru speaks up out of nowhere as you steady yourself behind him on the saddle. 
“Hm?” you ask, fatigued from spending the day walking around town. A large hand caresses your cheek to rest your head against his back, tightening your arms around his waist.
Lightly snapping the reins, he repeats, “You’re loved.” 
You drift on his words gently to sleep, the clip-clop! of the horse matching the deafening beat of your heart against your ribcage. If only you could be like this forever.
SLAM! 
You wake up with a start, only to find yourself…hovering? Surely there must be a valid explanation - you really didn’t feel like doing an exorcism right now.
It takes a while of your nonsense to realize you’re being carried by strong arms supporting your back and legs. 
“S-Satoru?” you ask blearily. 
“Shhh, forgive me, m’lady. Didn’t think that damn door would be so loud.” he responds, bed creaking under his weight as he softly sets you down. 
Smiling down at your incoherent mumbles, he whispers softly “It’s alrigh’, you can rest now. Goodnight m’lady.”
Struggling to rip his gaze from your gracefully sleep-addled one, it’s only the thought of someone in the house catching him in this position that makes him stand up. 
A hand - uncharacteristically swift - grasps his wrist, stopping his tip-toeing to the door. “Satoru…” your groggy call of his name sends shivers down his spine. Hesitatingly following the gentle pull of your hand, he kneels beside your bed.
“Yes, m’lady?” he breathes.
You surge forward, sleep hazing the practical side of your mind. Acting on pure instinct, your soft lips meet his. 
Satoru freezes in surprise as a beat passes. One. Two.
He stays in the same position when you flop back onto your pillow, soft snores filling the otherwise pin-drop silence. His lips burn as he brings up a hand to touch them in disbelief, stifling an euphoric laugh.
You startle awake in the middle of the night, after some questionable dream about Satoru carrying you to the bed and you kissing him.  
Imagine. Ha! 
Settling back into where you were carefully tucked into bed, you snuggle the warm coat at your side. 
Wait. Shit.
---
If either of you remembered what happened that night, neither of you mentioned it. 
Oftentimes, you questioned whether it was a dream. The only thing keeping you from fully believing so being the intensity in Satoru’s stare whenever his eyes briefly flickered to your lips and the hasty retreats whenever it seemed like you would bring up the topic. 
But why wasn’t he saying anything? And why did he not want you to?
In fear of messing up the comfortable camaraderie you two had, you continued this magnetic dance of normalcy. But honestly could you really consider it “normal” if each gaze was charged with something neither of you could describe?
But why wasn’t he saying anything? And why did he not want you to?
You could only imagine the worst.
Satoru thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.  Well, probably a bit below heaven, because - ideally - there you’d be his wife and Gege would actually like him. 
It’s alright, even if just for a sleep-hazed second, he was yours. And he didn’t want to hear you apologize for it.
Still riding the euphoria of that brief kiss, he goes about life as usual, sure that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels.
---
“WELCOME ALL TO RUSTCLIFFE ANNUAL HARVEST HOEDOWN! WE GOT HARVEST, WE GOT HORSES, WE GOT SOME HOE- Oh- what? yes, dear that was on my script…” your father’s voice bellows across town from the loudspeaker. 
You breathe in the warm, candy-scented air, fairy lights illuminating the colorful stalls selling everything from candied apples to binoculars (“Spy On Your Neighbors Without Worry!”). 
Place ringing with the bustle and chatter of the town, you think it feels like something out of a picture book.
A warm smile finds its way onto your face, you’ve loved the Harvest Hoedown since you were a kid. Here, you can forget the longing for something more, the rows at home about your looming engagement, and most of all - you can almost forget Satoru.
Ever since that kiss, you’ve found it hard to face him. Sure, the banter and half-joking schemes to murder Naoya are the same. But your heart clenches every time he looks at you with a tender melancholy, losing the words to apologize for taking advantage of his kindness.
“Come come! It’s startin’!” you hear gleefully from your left. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re pulled into a circle of bodies dancing to an upbeat tune. 
Laughter bubbling out of you as you lose yourself in the song, you turn to your right and see…your dance instructor, who is very visibly (and audibly) praying for his feet. Dramatic. You’ve learned a lot recently with Satoru’s help.
Oh, there he is again. For someone that leaves place so swiftly, he sure is set on living permanently in your mind.
Hidden amongst the audience, Satoru cackles at the distress on Mr. Dance Instructor’s face. Little did he know, with a bit of Satoru’s magic you’ve improved - stepping on his toes only once every fifteen steps! 
He was so proud of his girl.
Ah, except you’re not. You’re so much more. And he’s reminded of that every time you averted your eyes from his during dance lessons, the proximity of your bodies doing nothing for how out of reach you felt to him. 
He rips his gaze from you, walking away from the growing crowd. Where was that damn drinks table again?
It’s past twelve as the townsfolk start pairing up for the hoedown couples dancing. You’ve usually sat this one out, not one for the complicated steps nor the intimacy.
Out of the corner of your eye, you spy your parents waltzing in their own world. How nice it must be. Your supposed asshat of a dance partner was over by the drinks talking with some men, barely looking your way.
Guess the dance lessons were for nothing. Frustrated and slightly tipsy, you move to make your way off the dance floor. 
Suddenly, a large hand blocks your view of the exit. Who the- 
Satoru.
Ears tinged a pretty red, and eyes slightly dazed, he hiccups over the rich music “Would you- dance with me, m’lady?”
Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the way his face flushed your favorite delicate pink - but you slide your hand into his warm one, “I’d be honored to, Satoru.” 
A strong arm pulling you flush against his body, faces only inches apart. His hot breath fans you as Satoru murmurs, “Looked s’beautiful tonight. Best dancer in town I’d say.”
“Only cuz’ of you, Satoru.” you chuckle at his genuine tone as he steers you across the dance floor. Feet in perfect sync, the waltz fades into the background as you look into his tired eyes. 
“Nah, tha’s all you, m’lady. I’m nothing much.” he grins morosely. 
Your brows furrow at his words, clearly something was wrong. And this wasn’t the place to talk about it. “Come with me.” you utter, pulling him along with you to a place you knew he’d love. 
Little ol’ Rustcliffe wasn’t called that for nothing. 
The air is tense, the chatter of crickets fill the silence between you two as you guide him to your haven, hand still tightly in his. It’s a steep walk uphill from the outskirts of town, a place you’d stumbled upon during one dashing attempt to escape from this town as a tween.
“Finally here.” you exhale as you reach your destination, fireflies lighting the way. 
“Hah- If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were tryin’ to murder-” Satoru’s voice dies in his throat as he drinks in the view before him. 
The twinkling lights of the entire town of Rustcliffe reflect in his eyes like constellations. Townsfolk barely discernible from this distance, yet the soft jovial music carried over. It was beautiful. 
Satoru looks at you in awe as you lay down on the ground and point upwards, “Tha’s not all, cowboy.”
Quickly getting on the ground beside you - albeit at a safe distance - his mouth gapes wider at the perfect carpet of stars above him. A celestial version of what he saw below. He turns his head to see you bathed in the moonlight. This place was beautiful.
“Satoru, are we okay?‘ you voice out in concern. He’s taken aback by the sudden turn in conversation. You cut off his scramble to make a joke, “I’m serious. Please talk to me.”
He can never win against you.
Heaving out a sigh, “Maybe. Who knows. But whatever it is, please don’t apologize for that kiss, let me have it.”
Now it’s your turn to be surprised, “Let you have it? Satoru, why wouldn’t you have it?” 
“M’lady, I don’t know if you’re aware, but you’re like fireworks. Captivating and fierce. That kiss was a mistake, and soon enough you’ll find a rich, handsome-”
“I only want you.”
“I’m leaving soon.” he retorts. 
“I only want you.” you repeat, stubbornly.
“I’m leaving m’lady.” he argues.
“No- Satoru-”
“And I’m childish. I’m insecure. I’ll never be able to provide for you the way you deserve.” he plows on, emotion cracking his voice.
“Satoru, I love you.” you breathe out. 
Satoru’s breath catches in his throat, the silence was deafening. “What was that?” he turns, voice quiet with disbelief.
“Well, I don’t know if you’re aware, cowboy, but you’re like blue summer skies. And I just so happen to love blue summer skies.” you huff out, finally understanding the reason for his behavior these past few weeks. 
“I don’t expect a huge mansion, or some enormous ranch, or even a cowboy that knows the difference between a lasso and a rattlesnake. I just don’t want anyone else, Satoru.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes.”
“And…you’re sure? Really sure?”
“Yes.”
Silence punctures your conversation once more, broken only by a loud cackle. You turn in disbelief at his change in demeanor, “All cheered up now, Satoru?”
“Why would you have feelings for me? Was it the tumbleweed story that did it for you?” he gets out through laughs. It was contagious, and soon enough you yourself joined him, clutching your stomach.
In the thoughtful silence that follows, you find yourself inching closer to him until your faces are mere centimeters apart. “Blue summer skies and fireworks don’t go too well together.” he breathes. 
“We’ll make something work out, remember?” you hum. 
Your first kiss with Satoru was a sleep-addled mistake. 
The second was when his lips capture yours as if they were the source of life itself. 
Rolling on top of you, he’s careful to not rest his full weight as his lips don’t leave you, tongue caressing yours. Satoru tastes sweet - like hard candy and your father’s bottle of Baileys. Pulling away a hair's breadth, he whispers against your lips, “Let me be yours?”
“You probably say this to all the girls, hm?” you tease him, as revenge for making you wait so long. He softly bites your lips in retaliation, relishing in your drawn-out whine. “Yes, fine. If only you’ll let me be yours.”
Clearly approving of your answer, he continues his dance with your lips. Barely parting to breathe, as if it hurt to leave you.
And it did. A low groan sounds from the back of his throat as Satoru kisses you with the desperation from these past few weeks. His hands stayed firmly cupping your face, as if scared to move elsewhere. Yours, however, was wandering the expanse of his back, and it was driving him insane. 
“M’lady…” he breathes out at the feeling of your legs wrapping around his hips, a warning. 
You knew where this was going and you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything so bad. “Satoru, I need you.” you mutter, words punctuated by pecks to his swollen lips. 
Maybe that’s the trigger that sets him off. It’s not long before Satoru is kissing you again. Pinning down your arms with one hand, he rolls his hips into yours. You gasp as you feel the outline of his hard cock straining against his trousers. 
He was so big.
Your pussy drips with anticipation and fear of what was about to come. 
Satoru thinks he might be getting whiplash, how was it that an hour ago he was moping in his loneliness and now he’s got you underneath him? Silently thanking whoever was up there, he wanders a hand down your body. Fingers trailing teasingly above where you wanted him the most.
“Tell me what you want, m’lady.” he rasps. Now Satoru is sure he’s getting whiplash when you grind your hips up into his hand, whining “Need you- on me.”
Skirts hastily pushed up, Satoru shuffles so his face is right hovering right above your pulsing core. In the cool moonlight, he can see the way you get wetter at each hot breath on your cunt. “Please Satoru.” 
You were not good for his heart. Surging forward so he’s nose-deep in your pussy, Satoru’s tongue flattens against your swollen folds. His eyes roll to the back of his at your taste. You tasted better than the candy at the hoedown.
Your desperate whines for more send blood rushing to his cock, twitching achingly against his trousers. Leisurely dipping between your folds, he watches with blown-out eyes as you grind your hips deeper into his face, keeping a firm grip on his soft locks. Using him.
Shit, if this was your reaction to him teasing you…
Your whimpers of pleasure and lewd squelches of your cunt  fill the night air as he plunges his tongue inside your clenching hole, fucking you at a merciless rhythm. His brows furrow as his tongue dips in and out relentlessly. He sinfully loves the burn of his scalp as you pull his hair to angle him just right. 
Thumb harshly circling your clit, Satoru thinks he loses a bit of his sanity at every moan of his name that leaves your pretty mouth. “You taste s’good. So perfect for me, m’lady.” his voice sends vibrations to your pussy that have you feeling your heartbeat banging in two places.
“Hngh- Satoru, don’ stop!” you mewl as his nose catches on your clit, clamping down on his tongue. He continues his movements, breathing you in so sinfully. Air was overrated - Satoru Gojo, famously daring traveler and devilishly handsome, dies here between your legs. He wouldn’t even mind.
“Cum in my mouth, m’lady. Please.” he begs, voice muffled by your dripping cunt. He locks eyes with your fucked out ones as he pulls you by the thighs impossibly closer to him. He never wanted to part.
The stimulation of his voice in addition to his fingers and tongue becomes too much. “Satoru! Hah-  M’ gonna cum-”
Tears spring to your eyes as you cum all around Satoru’s tongue. He doesn’t let up his harsh abuse of your pulsing pussy, groaning as he laps up your juices - your slick pooling at the corner of his mouth. 
He was so greedy for you. Shit, this is so much better than he’s imagined every night he’s fucked his fist in that lonely room.
As both of you attempt to catch your breaths, the chattering song of crickets and distant music from the Harvest Hoedown fill the air once more. Satoru looks at you with a devious glint in his eyes that has your cunt twitching once more. 
You’d felt his rock-hard length. And you wanted it now.
“Satoru. let me feel you in my mouth, please.” you murmur. Kneeling before him, you look up at him with eager eyes. At his slow nod, you give an experimental squeeze to the large imprint of his cock, thighs rubbing together at Satoru’s drawn-out hiss. 
“Oh, m’lady. You drive me insane.” he groans. 
Cursing the heavy trousers that cowboys wear, you fumble it down his legs. Muscles, creamy thighs come into your view, making your mouth water. 
In the dim lighting, you see the precum drip down Satoru’s flushed cock. The prominent vein down his side glistens prominently. Shit, he’d never fit in your mouth let alone your cunt. But you wanted it so bad.
Satoru’s heavy breaths sound in the still air as your bruised lips inch closer to his throbbing cock. A deep breath, and you spit on his blushing head, saliva dripping down the side of his length and to where you gently grasped his base. 
It was filthy, it was debauched. You absolutely loved it.
Satoru lets out a strangled moan as you flatten your tongue and take his tip into your mouth, sucking gently. He bucks his hips into your mouth as you run your tongue along his sensitive slit “Shit- Sorry, m’lady. You’re just hah- too good.”
Popping off his aching cock, you press kisses to the side of his length. He groans lowly at the vibrations as you speak about something that has been on your mind for a while now, “Satoru, don’t you think we’re past formalities now?”
“Well, I could call you my goddess?” he smiles. “Or my angel? Or-” Satoru chokes on his words as you take him fully into your mouth - partly because you needed him to shut up, and partly because you cunt ached with need.
“Sh-shit. Jus’ like that.” he rasps as you suck him at a dizzying pace. Precum drips down the side of your mouth as you take him in deeper - nose meeting the snowy white hair on his pelvis.
Your mouth burns at the stretch, his hips grinding lightly into your mouth to meet each bob of your head. Your pussy drips once more at how desperate Satoru was.
His mouth drops open in a silent gasp as you move to take his tight balls into your mouth. You admire the dazed look in his darkened eyes. “Oh god- I’m gonna cum. Please, let me cum in your mouth, m’lady.” he murmurs, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you continue your ruthless pace.
As soon as your lips are around his cock once more, Satoru comes fast and hard with a gravelly moan. Hot spurts of his seed dribble down the corner of your mouth as you take it all in. 
Ah, this wasn’t what you had planned when you brought him here - but you sure weren’t complaining.
Satoru just about passes out when you stick out your tongue to show you’ve swallowed every drop of cum he gave, cock twitching once more. He needed you in a way that would make a hooker blush. 
Finding his voice, “As much as I’d love to ravish you right here, m’lady, I think you deserve somethin’ a bit more comfortable.” He swats at a mosquito attacking him as you grin devilishly.
---
Gege has never flown across the dry ground of Rustcliffe faster. 
Wind in your hair and Satoru’s arms warmly around your middle, you feel the thundering of his heartbeat against your back - matching your own. You admire his moonlit profile, the light casting an otherworldly glow over his cloud-like hair. You could probably go anywhere if it was by his side. 
You’ve never been happier to see that familiar ol’ ranch.
Navigating your sprawling villa, you find, is close to impossible with a relentless Satoru pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. 
“Satoru…we gotta make it to the bed.” you giggle, drunk off of him rather than the liquor from before. He sighs impatiently, before promptly lifting you off of your feet. His hat and hip holster falling to god-know-where as he runs up the stairs to your bedroom with you in his arms.
The thud of heavy boot echoes throughout the empty house - your parents still at the Harvest Hoedown. It reminds you of the night you first kissed him. As he slams your door shut and pushes you against it, however, you never in your wildest dreams would have thought that it’ll lead to this.
Tongue tangling with Satoru’s, feet still not reaching the ground. You don’t think you’ll make it out of this alive. Nor will Satoru.
Satoru is definitely not making it out alive.
He’s barely stepped a foot into your bedroom before he’s got his hands all over you - groping and teasing every inch of your body he can find. Your legs wrapped around him, he holds you in the air, hands roughly squeezing your ass.
His lips don’t leave yours, tasting himself on your tongue - even as he bunches your skirts around your hips. Exhaling in relief as his hands meet your bare lips, he holds a finger to your pulsing core.
You whimper at the feeling, still sensitive from before. He drinks in your mewls of pain and pleasure, lips curling into a smug smile. “Still sensitive, m’lady? You poor thing. How will you take my cock if yer’ like this?” 
Your groan of impatience turns into a panicked whine as Satoru moves towards the bed, “Maybe we should tuck you in bed for now? Continue this tomorrow?” 
Reading the challenge in his eyes, you immediately free yourself from his hold. His confused gaze soon turns into a surprised one as you push him roughly onto the bed, straddling him after.
“You always do surprise me.” he laughs out between the magnetic kisses you leave on his lips. Buttons fling across the room as you rip his shirt in impatience - fingers too dripping in lust to work through them. You’re sure if the same could be done to your heavy prairie skirt, then it would’ve suffered a similar fate.
You run your hands along his sculpted body greedily, as you’d wanted to since the first time you saw him shirtless. He hisses at the friction and the impatience at wanting to do the same to you, fingers fumbling with your complicated clasps.
After much frustration and curses on whoever invented corsets, you’re finally exposed in front of Satoru.
Shit, he really should call you his goddess. Because in the dim lighting of your bedroom, he thinks he’s in heaven as you sit atop him, bare and needy for him. Fuck Naoya. Fuck any faceless suitable husband. Eyes half-lidded and lips kiss-bitten, you’re like this because of him. 
Grinding his now-bare hips against yours, a low groan rips from his throat at the feeling of your swollen folds spreading against his aching cock. Your dripping slick mixes with his as he continues rutting into you. 
“Ah! Enough teasin’, Satoru- Want you inside me.” you whimper sinfully. 
Your words make Satoru snap. Wordlessly, he sheaths himself inside you with a sigh of relief. Moans leave his throat unrestrained as he bullies his cock deeper and deeper inside your hot cunt. “Fuck. S’tight, your pretty pussy is suckin’ me in so good m’lady.” he hisses out, brows furrowed in pleasure.
Satoru could feel himself losing more and more of his sanity every time your plushy walls clenched down on him as he pulled out to fuck up into with harsh thrusts. It was so animalistic, the way your perfect cunt couldn’t bear to part with him. 
Your slick drips down his length and onto his heavy balls each time he rams into you at a merciless cadence. Soft yelps of his name leave your lips every time his tip kisses your cervix. 
Ah, this time he was actually going to pass out. Your pretty whines, your dripping cunt, the way your tits jiggled so enticingly at each thrust - it was all too much. 
Angling you slightly with his bruising grip on your hips, Satoru smiles with satisfaction at that one spot that makes you convulse on his cock. Abs burning at the pace, he hits it over and over. Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder, moans of his name leaving you against your will. 
You were sure to be absolutely covered in marks tomorrow. 
But that was a problem for later you. Right now, all you could focus on was grinding your hips down to meet Satoru’s thrusts, eager for him to hit that spot even harder. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the painfully good stretch of your snug cunt. So full. 
“K-keep going, Satoru. Don’ stop, please.” Your rickety bed creaks in protest at each relentless thrust, overpowered only by the stinging smacks of his balls against your ass. 
It was so filthy. So debauched. And you absolutely loved it.
As Satoru’s hands sneak down to draw rough circles on your clit, you feel yourself getting closer and closer towards cumming. Leaning down to capture his lips with yours once more, you whisper against his mouth, “Satoru, I’m- Hngh-” 
He connects his sweaty forehead with yours, “Mm. me too. Fuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy up. You want that, m’lady?”
Just the thought of being so full of Satoru sends you over the edge. You cum with a lewd moan of his name, cunt clenching so impossibly tight around his cock. 
“Ah! Shit.” Satoru grits out at the way your walls were fluttering around him so perfectly. Your whimpers as you gush around him sounds like music to his ears. 
Satoru thinks he sees heaven as he cums. A part of his soul parting with him that night. Thick ropes of his seed paint your walls white, strained whispers of your name leaving his mouth as if a prayer. As if you were his goddess. 
A feral part of him keeps bucking his hips into you, letting you ride out your highs together. Fucking his cum deeper and deeper - claiming you as his.
You do the same in your own way - biting down on Satoru’s exposed neck. Hard. His strong arms wrap around you to keep you from moving away, letting you use him as you please. 
Cum drips down your legs, staining your blanket. 
As your highs finally bate, you blink out the haze from your eyes. Looking up at Satoru from where you were snuggled into the crook of his neck, admiring the innocent blush adorning his face and his glossy, bruised lips. Both of you so overstimulated and euphoric.
“Got any travel stories like this?” you chuckle out, half-delirious and exhausted from what just transpired in this room. 
“Not at all.” Satoru breathes out, pulling you closer to him, closing his hazy eyes to the sex-filled air. 
That night, squeezed into your warm single bed, Satoru tells you stories of before his travels. You’re unsure if your parents are home yet, and right now with Satoru in your arms - you don’t care.
You listen as he rambles about growing up in the quaint town of Summer Pass. How he was raised with beautiful parents, a wonderful life. Yet, since the passing of his best friend, he’d taken up what the two had been dreaming of since they were children - wandering the world. 
“I’m afraid, if I stay too long then it always ends up hurtin’.” he whispers into the still night. Caressing his hair, you pull him into your warm embrace. Your heart weighs heavy as the back of your mind pangs with the realization that Satoru will still leave despite this.
Both of you fall asleep reminiscing talks of your childhoods. In your exhausted state, maybe you misheard - but you could’ve sworn by the “I love you, m’lady.” Satoru whispered against your lips right before you closed your eyes. 
Limbs intertwined till you’re unsure where one ends and the other starts, you have the most peaceful sleep in a long time.
You’re unsure when Satoru snuck out of your room. The only evidence of last night being the washcloth on your bedside table that he’d tenderly cleaned you up with, and a singular button from his shirt at the foot of your bed. 
Cheeks heating once you catch sight of it, you make your way down to breakfast in your most well-covered dress. 
What you certainly didn’t expect was to be interrogated by your mother. “So…” she begins. ”When did you come home, darling? We didn’t see you at the hoedown after midnight.”
Ah, suddenly these scrambled eggs just did not want to go down your throat. “Jus’...went to see somethin’ interesting.” you respond, eyes meeting with Satoru’s amused ones across the table as he subtly plays footsies with you underneath.
---
Sneaking around with a secret cowboy boyfriend doesn’t just happen in books, you realize. It’s a lot easier since Naoya is around a lot more often than usual. The only thing he might be good for may be keeping your parents entertained…
Since then, Satoru, you conclude, really does not like L-words: namely, Love and Leaving.
Despite his breathless confession that night, Satoru hasn’t said anything more about his feelings towards you - nor when he’ll be leaving. 
It’s okay, you have time. You console yourself, as you lay in bed with him after he’d snuck into your room as per usual, pulling his warm presence closer to yours. But Satoru’s inevitable departure looms closer and closer like a dark cloud above your head. 
It’s only two months after that night, when you’ve retreated from another engagement conversation you shut down, that Satoru brings it up. Hands intertwined and watching the sunset on top of your father’s barn, he utters in an uncharacteristically grave tone “I planned to leave next week, m’lady.” 
Your heart pricks at his words. You knew this was coming. 
Clenching your fists in self-assurance, your words tumble out.
“Let me come with you.”
“Let me stay with you.”
The nostalgic lullaby of the world around you is deafening as you and Satoru reel back in synchronized surprise. 
“You- stay?”
“Wait- huh?”
Brow raised, you gesture at him to continue. “I just- I thought maybe I could stay here. Build a life with you, if you’d like, m’lady.” 
Your eyes widen in surprise. Satoru - who smiles brightest when talking of his tales of travel - was offering to settle down?
“W-what? Satoru, why would you? You love traveling.” you sputter out in disbelief. His smile grows, as does the warmth in his eyes. “I’ve found something I love a lot more.” he murmurs, with a playful bite to the crook of your neck.
You crack a smile at his sincerity, though you shake your head in disagreement. “You should be out there explorin’ the world, Satoru. And…I want to be right by your side.”
“I thought you loved this place?”
“I do.” you sigh. “But I feel so trapped.”
Resting your head on Satoru’s shoulders, you admit how dear Rustcliffe is to you - although oftentimes you try to deny it - and how you want to leave just as much. 
The stars wink at you two mischievously by the time you’re done, a twinkle that matches the look in Satoru’s eyes as he announces, “So~ We run away together in a blaze of glory. End scene, credits roll, Gege win’s best actor.”
“Exactly. Although I prefer the term unannounced relocation.” you hum, relishing in his bark of laughter. “Now, c’mon, cowboy. We gotta get up early for that damn election rally tomorrow.”
Heading back home as inconspicuous as possible is always tedious. In addition to praying away your swollen lips, you head in innocently at different times. 
Hurriedly greeting your housekeeper, you attempt to make a swift escape to your room. Only to be blocked by…Naoya?
“We meet again, sweetcheeks.” he smiles, stepping closer towards you. Determined to stand your ground, you stare menacingly up at him. “Hello, my apologies for being so unavailable to meet these days. Business, y’know.” your voice steady.
“Ah, yes. I know.” he hums dangerously. Looming closer to your face, you smell the tobacco on his breath as he mutters, “It’s no matter, your father and I have gone through with our conversations. You and I will announce our engagement tomorrow at your father’s rally. That is final.”
“I’ve talked with you about this, I’ve screamed at you about this. I will not marry you no matter what my father nor anyone else says.” you grit out through clenched teeth. 
“Why? Got anyone in mind? Think it’ll be anyone else your father approves of?” he raises a brow, delicately raising the neckline of where your dress had dripped down - where Satoru had nipped before.
He knows.
“Not at all.” you smile sweetly. Not waiting for a response, you run upstairs. Seems like running away in a blaze of glory might have to hurry up.
Twisting and turning the entire night, you don’t get a wink of sleep, mind a whirlwind of how you’d get Satoru and run away before the announcement.
It was terrifying.
---
Parading around town in an itchy engagement dress under the boiling sun on your father’s collection of purebred Italian horses (+ Gege) wasn’t exactly how you wanted to spend an ideal morning. But it wasn’t the worst.
You snuck glances at Satoru riding in front of you, looking devastatingly handsome as ever. 
Naoya had been terrifyingly quiet all morning. You could feel his penetrating stare on you, scrutinizing every movement and every conversation. He rides beside you - your soon-to-be husband.
As the procession ends at your father’s podium, where he proudly takes a stand. As he plows on with an inspirational speech that has the audience in cheers, your mind runs a mile a minute as you slip away from the stage. Even in your gauzy white dress, it’s easy to get lost in the animated crowds of Rustcliffe - which you and Satoru use to your advantage.
This was happening. You were going to finally leave. 
Heart clenching at the sight of your jovial parents onstage, you take a long look before turning away. It’s okay, it’s alright. This is something you’ve been wanting for years. 
Brain whirring at the letters you’d send them on your travels, you miss the harsh gaze following you. 
“Satoru!” you gasp at the blur of white and black that embraces you as soon as you step foot into Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon. The bar, empty for the first time in years since your father’s last rally, was your hastily chosen place of refuge.
Nanami, who wasn’t initially too keen on being involved, had sympathized once he saw the look on your face. “Alright, but if anyone asks - you two were never here. Not too good for business, y’know.” he’d stated, permitting you two to do whatever you please. 
Although, it probably was worth noting that he’d almost taken it back once Satoru tackled him into a hug with a joyful squeal of “Nanamiiiin~!”
“C’mon now. I’ve got our bags saddled on Gege. We’ll leave immediately.” Satoru voices, snapping you out of your reminiscing. Rushing to give Nanami a farewell hug, your heart lurches as he whispers “Goodbye. Promise you’ll write.” 
This was really happening.
Nodding in promise, you finally turn to the open door and step into the dusty sunlight. Satoru leads you to where Gege is impatiently waiting for your quick getaway. You could almost laugh at the sheer exhilaration coursing through your veins. 
You were going to get out.
You grip onto Satoru’s shoulder for support as he circles his arms around you to lift you onto the seat, slightly shaking at the intoxicating adrenaline. 
You were finally going to be free. 
“Leavin’ so soon, sweetcheeks?” a chilling voice slices through the air. One that you know way too well. Your heart stops, as does Satoru’s hands in midair - before he sets you down slowly.
Body moving against your will, you turn to the deceivingly sweet voice behind you. Naoya.
A cold sweat breaks out across Satoru’s forehead. 
He stares down Naoya’s hand hovering over the holster at his hip. “I knew there was something off about you, barn boy. You think I’d be outmatched by someone like you?” he hisses, resentment poisoning every word.
Satoru does what he does arguably the best, “Oh c’mon asshat, don’t be so melodramatic. We’re just going on a little adventure.” he smirks.
“Don’t I know of these adventures.” Naoya spits out. 
Agonizingly slow, Naoya draws his gun. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife as the three of you stand frozen, searing sun casting eerie shadows across the desolate road. 
BANG!
Naoya’s first shot tears through the deafening silence. Narrowly missing the bullet, Gege whinnies in fear before running off to safety. Satoru skillfully maneuvers you two into the shadowy alleyway beside Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon.
In the blink of an eye, he presses you close to the dust-bitten wall as he pulls out his gun. “Stay here.” he gasps out.  
With lightning speed, Satoru retaliates - firing back-to-back shots at Naoya with a speed and precision that has him scrambling for cover behind a barrel. 
The gunfire echoes throughout the quiet town, these familiar streets becoming a battleground. Despite both parties shooting from their impromptu covers, neither are invincible. 
A stray bullet harshly grazes his arm, blood painting the ground a deep crimson. Fuck, this really burned like a motherfucker. But he was still alive - he still had to protect you. 
The standoff intensifies, stray bullets flying off in every direction. They splinter holes through the rustic shop banners. You could only be thankful that the town was at the rally, confident you’d never forgive yourself if anyone died on this road today.
Satoru fires off shots with uncanny accuracy, years of defending himself on the road coming in handy. Yet, he was losing blood. So much blood. He realizes with a jolt that his vision was slowly blurring. 
Breaths labored and slumping forward against the wall, he aims one last shot at Naoya. Fuck. Shit. Dear lord, if you’re up there, please don’t let my love die here. 
A finger pulls the trigger. The bullet flies through the air as if in slow-motion. 
It hits metal.
Naoya’s gun flies through the air, clattering onto the sun-scorched ground as he is finally disarmed. The beginnings of a grin curl Satoru’s lips before he heaves out a heavy sigh. Eyes closing and body collapsing forward, the last thing ringing in his ears being your harrowed scream.
“No no no no. Satoru please.” sobs wreck your throat as your hands frantically check for Satoru’s pulse. In your panicked state of mind, you barely register the crunch of gravel nearing towards you two. 
“Shit. The fuck is it that you even want?” that dreaded voice sounds ominously in your ears. “To travel? I can fuckin’ take you places.” 
Sagging on the saloon wall for support, Naoya clutches his bleeding side as he observes the two of you. In an instant, you’re in front of Satoru’s body protectively, hand steady on his discarded gun pointed right at Naoya’s head. 
“Leave, before I shoot your brains out..” you threaten, voice deceptively steady.
“I thought I could be the one to break you - the mayor’s wildchild daughter. But why the fuck do you put yourself through this?” he continues, voice strained with anger. 
“Because he is the one I want. I refuse your proposal, and I am not sorry for it. Now leave.” 
You were standing up now, the cool metal of the barrel pressed firmly to his forehead. Finger hovering above the trigger.
“I believe the lady said to leave.” Nanami’s voice startles you both. His normally stoic face was etched with anger. 
Despite his injuries, Naoya manages to glare at Nanami. But, realizing the odds are against him, he backs away, but not before venomously promising “This ain’t over, sweetcheeks.”
He leaves a bloody trail as he limps out of sight.
“Told you this wasn’t good for business.” Nanami sighs at the chaos. With Nanami’s help, you carry Satoru inside - body moving on instinct as your mind races to process everything that happened. 
The empty bar now serves as an improvised hospital. Laying Satoru down on a table that acts as a makeshift bed, propping his feet up in a desperate attempt to recirculate his blood. You desperately tear the intricate of your engagement dress into bandages, hurriedly wrapping it around his injured arm.
The atmosphere is taut, air once thick with the stench of alcohol now reeking of blood and the dusty antiseptic Nanami had brought to you from the very back of his shelves. The methodic ticking of the bar clock sounds like gunshots to your ears.
His reassuring presence is probably what keeps you sane as you stare unmovingly at your hands, stained a dark red from the blood seeping through Satoru’s clothes. 
You must have been sitting there for hours. Maybe even days. Or it might have even been just a few minutes.
All you know is a flash of blue, and you’re surging forward, heart racing. “Satoru?! Satoru! Please say something.” you cry out, tears streaming down your face once more. Nanami quietly makes his exit to the back, leaving the two lovers to their privacy.
“Satoru.” you breathe out, relief flooding your body and a smile forcing its way onto your face as Satoru’s half-lidded eyes meet your worried ones. 
“M’lady.” he whispers weakly. His uninjured arm shakily cups your cheek, and you lean into his warm touch. “I would never have forgiven myself if I left you alone, m’lady.” he rasps, eyes boring into yours. “Couldn’t have fought off the tumbleweeds yourself.”
You let out a watery laugh. There he is, the man you love.
“I love you, Satoru.” you speak in a hushed tone, as if anything louder will throw you back into your nightmare. His smile grows, blue summer eyes flooding with silent tears. 
“I love you, too. So, so much. Wherever you go s’ where I belong, my love.” he utters words meant for you - and only you. 
Your heart swells at the indescribable emotion on his face. “Then, rest well. We have to make our getaway in a blaze of glory, remember?” 
It wasn’t a blaze of glory, more like a teary trail of apologies and thanks as you embrace Nanami farewell - for the second time today. He hugs Satoru too, but only begrudgingly after he bemoans about being on the brink of death any second now. 
You step outside once more, hands shaky at what awaits you. 
In the distance, you hear a frantic call of your name. You turn, only to have your parents barreling emotionally into you. 
Word seems to have spread around town about what had happened, and your parents were first to come to you - your father running off midspeech. 
Through your hurried stream of tears and recollections of what happened, you managed to bawl out “I-I’m so-”
Words which are quickly hushed by your equally emotional parents. “Please don’ apologize.” your mother soothes.
“If anything, I should. I’m so sorry for tryin’ to coop you up here, my dear. I was a scared, insolent man. S’hard to not see you as my little girl, I hope you can forgive me, my darling.” your father sighs shakily. He looks a lot older than you remember him.
Grabbing both your parents into a tight embrace, you whisper out the words “I love you, and I promise to write.” 
With a final hug goodbye from your parents - to both you and Satoru, you take a seat in front of him on the now-calm Gege. 
“Ready m’lady?” you send a teasing glance at Satoru, who positively swoons overdramatically.
“Oh yes, Mr. Brave n’ Handsome cowboy.” he responds in a theatrically high falsetto. “Travelin’ the world won’t be all sunshines and rainbows, y’know? If you want a way out now then jus’ say the word.” he warns in his normal voice.
“Trynna get rid of me already, cowboy?” you raise a brow playfully. He wraps his arms securely around your waist. “Just sayin’, wouldn’t want you to regret a single thing.” he murmurs softly.
“I won’t. As long as we win against those tumbleweeds, right?”
Huffing out a laugh, “Can’t promise ya that, my love. You’ll jus’ have to take a chance on me.”
The snap of reins. A last look at your waving parents, and your little town of Rustcliffe. You ride into the horizon with your white dress billowing behind you - on what you and Satoru would later consider blazing glory. 
---
“Didya hear about the mayor’s daughter? Last I heard, she was kidnapped by a rogue cowboy a couple years back, snatched her straight off her feet on her wedding day!”
“Hogwash! I heard she went quite willingly - the boy was quite a looker, you see. Stabbed her fiancé in his sleep before riding off into the sunset!”
Nanami stifles a laugh at the scandalized gasps echoing around the table as the old drunkards run the gossip mill. 
In a subtle motion, he discreetly tucks away a photograph, its back adorned with enthusiastic handwriting and a…hoofprint? 
Taj Mahal sprawling in the backdrop, two identical heads of white hair grin mischievously in the photo. 
Yet, yours takes center stage.
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A/N. Did this in two days, anything is possible kids (I need to lie down). Reblogs are so so so appreciated.
Plagiarism not authorized.
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focusonkayjay · 2 months ago
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right here, yet so far away | oneshot
Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: ceo! jungkook x kindergarten teacher! reader, exes to lovers, angst, smut, fluff
Word Count: 19.4k (my hands slipped girl)
Chapter Warnings: mature language, unprotected sex (pls be safe), oral (f. receiving), mentions of an accident, coma, violence (lmk if i missed anything) P.S. i know people don't just instantly recover after a long coma, but in this story it's just heavy plot armor, so kindly understand.
Playlist:
A/N: hello cuties. this is a special post in honor of me hitting 300 followers. i cant believe the immense support i have received when it's only been a week. thank you so much for consuming my work and supporting me. also please note, the text in italics are for dream sequences or flashbacks.
//
“But baby… please just…” Jungkook’s voice cracks as he jogs to catch up, his hand reaching out for yours. You swat it away without hesitation, the sting of rejection hitting him harder than any words ever could.
“Jungkook, stop it.” you say firmly, your tone sharp enough to cut through his soul. He freezes, his wide eyes searching yours for answers.
“But baby, just tell me why? We were doing so good… just yesterday, you... you said you loved me. Please, you can’t just... leave like this.”
He tries to observe your expression, hoping to convince himself that this is just some cruel joke. But there’s no softness in your eyes, no flicker of doubt. Only a cold, unyielding resolve.
“Don’t you understand?” you scoff, folding your arms tightly across your chest. “I’m tired of you, Jungkook. I’m tired of us.” His breath hitches, disbelief flashing across his face. “Stop. Don’t say that. You don’t… you don’t mean that.”
“I do.” you insist, each word a dagger to his heart. “I mean every word of it. I’m done with you. This whole relationship… it’s not going anywhere. It’s a waste of time, and I just… I can’t, Jungkook. We have to break up.”
His shoulders slump, and his chest rises and falls as though the air has been knocked out of him. He stands frozen, staring at you, desperate to find some hint of hesitation in your expression. But all he sees is resolve… or at least, what you’re determined to show him.
“Why?” he whispers, his voice barely audible.
You stare at him blankly. "Because I don’t love you anymore.” you reply, your voice unwavering. Jungkook flinches as if struck. His lips part, but no words come out. And when you turn around and walk away, the sound of your retreating footsteps echoes in his ears, louder than any goodbye, as your body disappears into the darkness.
BEEP BEEP BEEP
The shrill wail of the alarm slices through the silence, and Jungkook's eyes harshly open. He gasps for air, his chest heaving as the nightmare clings to him like a second skin.
It’s always the same nightmare. The same scene. The same words. The same look on your face. The same crushing weight in his chest.
He drags a hand down his face, the coolness of his palm doing little to soothe him. His dark hair sticks to his forehead, damp with sweat, and he blinks up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above him.
For a moment, he just sits there, the silence of his apartment wrapping around him like a cold blanket. A single tear trickles down his temple as images of you flash in his mind, one after the other. His phone buzzes on the nightstand... a reminder of the meetings and deadlines awaiting him, but he doesn’t move.
Four months. It’s been four months since you walked away, and he still doesn’t understand why.
He remembers the day of the break up like it was yesterday. The scene is so vividly planted in his mind that he even sees it in his sleep. He can’t get rid of the way you looked at him… like you despised the sight of him, like you truly didn’t love him anymore.
He still doesn’t have his answers. Why did you leave so suddenly? Why did your heart just decide it didn’t want him anymore? The questions linger in his mind, unanswered, gnawing at him like a constant ache he can’t escape.
Jungkook remains rooted on his mattress, the weight of memories pressing down on him as he recalls the first time he saw you. It was over two years ago, but when he recollects it, it feels so vivid, like it's happening in the present.
He had been reluctant to attend an event that was scheduled at a local kindergarten nearby. Exhausted from a long flight back from the States, he’d tried to get out of it. But his assistant, understanding the importance of his role as the CEO, insisted that he'd attend it regardless.
His company wasn’t just about selling food products, it was dedicated to promoting healthy living, especially for children. They organized events to educate kids on the importance of good nutrition, partnered with schools to provide nutritious meals, and created fun, interactive programs to get children excited about eating right.
Though Jungkook wasn’t keen on spending his afternoon with a room full of energetic kids, he went anyway. The workshop had already started and the moment he stepped into the classroom, ready to grab the attention of the kids, he suddenly spotted you.
You were standing at the front of the room, a soft smile on your face as you engaged with the children, laughing with them and cracking jokes. Your energy was infectious, and the way you moved with such ease around the kids made his heart skip a beat. There was something so warm and genuine about you, something that immediately drew him in.
It wasn’t just the way you looked... though you were undeniably beautiful, but how you carried yourself, the kindness that radiated from you, and how at home you seemed in this world of tiny hands and laughter. Jungkook had never been the type to believe in love at first sight, but the moment his eyes landed on you, something inside him shifted.
He had been smitten, captivated in a way he couldn’t explain. His thoughts had scattered as he watched you, his mind far from the speech he was supposed to be giving. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you had captured his attention, and yet he couldn’t look away.
It wasn’t until later, when he was preparing to leave, that he finally found the courage to approach you. He had been nervous, unsure of what to say. But the moment you looked at him, a simple greeting from you was all it took.
Your smile was enough to melt any lingering doubt he had. He introduced himself, his voice slightly shaky but confident enough to make a lasting impression. And you, with that same gentle smile, responded in kind words, immediately making him feel at ease.
He had no idea at that moment that this chance encounter would change his life in the best way possible.
Now, laying in his bed, Jungkook smiles bitterly, remembering how it all started. How he had the most beautiful relationship with you for around a year and three months. How one decision, one visit to that kindergarten, led to everything he lost.
He still can't understand why you left him the way you did, without explanation, without any chance for him to fix whatever went wrong. The image of your face that day... the coldness, the finality, haunts him still.
Despite the whirlwind of thoughts clouding his mind, Jungkook forces himself to push them aside. He stares at the ceiling for a moment longer, allowing the weight of the memories to settle, before finally making the decision to get up.
He knows he can’t linger in this state forever. The day is waiting for him, and he can’t afford to let his emotions hold him back. With a sigh, he swings his legs off the bed and plants his feet firmly on the floor. The familiar coldness of the hardwood beneath his feet is grounding, and for a brief moment, he feels a sense of control over the chaos in his mind.
The early morning light filters through the blinds, casting a soft glow on his room. He moves to the bathroom, running cold water over his face, hoping it will somehow shake the fog from his thoughts. It’s a futile attempt, but it’s enough to snap him into the present, if only for a few minutes.
Jungkook stares at his reflection in the mirror, taking a deep breath. His mind is still heavy, but he’s learned over the years to compartmentalize, especially when it comes to work. He’s the CEO and his company can’t afford to be distracted by his personal life. No matter how much his heart aches, there’s a bigger picture to focus on.
//
You glance at the kids, focused on their coloring books, and a soft smile tugs at your lips. They’re adorable, each one lost in their own little world, their tiny hands gripping crayons as they carefully add color to their drawings. You walk around the room, quietly observing their work, admiring the little bursts of creativity.
As you pass by the window, your gaze drifts outside, where a few children are running and playing on the soccer field. You let out a sigh, your fingers subconsciously tracing the pendant of your necklace.
It’s the only thing that connects you to him, to the one that got away, to the one you let slip right through your fingers, even when it hurt to do so. You close your eyes for a brief moment, and his image floods your mind. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled, the warmth of his touch, the comfort of his presence.
You miss him so badly, your chest tightening with the weight of it. But you push the feeling down, swallowing the ache in your heart. You remind yourself why it had to end, why you had to walk away. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
As you stare at the bleachers stand by the green field, a vivid and unpleasant memory creeps up your mind.
"Break up with him."
Junghyun's voice was calm, his eyes fixed on the empty soccer field ahead. The chilly evening breeze brushed past your hair, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your chest. You turned to look at him, disbelief written all over your face.
"What?" you asked, your voice carrying a mix of confusion and irritation. Junghyun was Jungkook's older brother, and his unexpected visit had left you completely on edge.
You had only met this man once before, a fleeting encounter when you accidentally bumped into him outside Jungkook’s apartment one morning. Seeing him now, unannounced at your workplace, caught you completely off guard.
"Break up with him, Y/N." he repeated, turning to face you this time. His gaze was piercing, his tone unyielding. "You know you two belong to completely separate worlds. Jungkook isn’t in love... he’s just infatuated. And frankly..." he continued, his voice dropping with disdain. "You’re nothing but a distraction."
You stared at him, your mind reeling from the audacity of his words. The traffic noise in the far distance felt like static compared to the ringing in your ears. "Are you serious right now?" you managed to say, your tone sharper than you intended.
Junghyun didn’t flinch. "I’m completely serious. Do you think this little fling of yours will lead to anything? Jungkook has responsibilities... he has a company to run, a legacy to uphold. You’re a kindergarten teacher, Y/n. A sweet girl, sure, but not someone who can keep up with him."
His words stung, but you refused to show it. "Jungkook loves me." you stated firmly, your voice unwavering. "I know how he feels about me. So whatever you’re trying to pull, it won’t work."
Junghyun scoffed, shaking his head. "Love? You call this love? He’s smitten, sure, but that doesn’t mean it’ll last. You’ll only hold him back."
You clenched your fists, your chest tightening with frustration. Every instinct in you wanted to yell at him, to tell him how wrong he was, how little he knew about what you and Jungkook shared.
You breathed heavily, your eyes narrowing as they locked onto him. "I'm going to pretend we never had this conversation." you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil bubbling inside. Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel, stepping off the bleacher stands and ready to head back inside.
“Hanyung Hospital.” Junghyun’s voice suddenly rang out, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your breath hitched, and your eyebrows furrowed as your back remained turned to him. A wave of unease settled over you, his words striking a chord you wished he hadn’t found.
“Isn’t that where your brother is admitted?” His tone was sharp, laced with a smirk you didn’t need to see to recognize.
Slowly, you turned to face him, your heart racing as panic flashed across your features. Had this man done a background check on you? Your mind reeled at the thought, fear and anger coursing through you in equal measure.
Junghyun’s smirk deepened as he saw the panic etched on your face. “Guess I know a little too much about you, sweetheart.” he said smoothly, his words dripping with a smug satisfaction.
Your fists clenched at your sides, but your voice caught in your throat. The realization that he had gone to such lengths made your skin crawl, and a sense of dread settled in your stomach.
"See, this is the problem with you lowlifes..." Junghyun sneered, his voice dripping with disrespect. "You have so many weaknesses, yet you never stop dreaming big." He let out a cruel laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement at your stunned silence.
You stared at him, your throat tightening as if the words you wanted to say were caught in a vice. "I heard he’s been in a coma for four years." he continued, his tone casual, almost mocking.
Your eyes stung with unshed tears, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. The mention of your brother... the very core of your vulnerability, felt like a dagger twisting in your heart.
“Maybe I should make sure this coma lasts forever—”
"What?" The word burst out of you before he could finish. Panic surged through you, visible in the way your breathing quickened. Junghyun’s smirk widened, his eyes lighting up with satisfaction at your reaction. He relished the fear and desperation etched across your face, feeding off the control he had over the situation.
"Leave my brother out of this." you managed to say, your voice low but firm, fists clenched tightly at your sides. "This has nothing to do with him."
You forced yourself to regulate your breathing, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions that were threatening to spill over. But deep down, you knew exactly what this man was doing. And it felt like a threat too enormous to escape.
Junghyun’s smirk only deepened, his silence more unsettling than words. It was as though he reveled in watching you squirm under the weight of his insinuations.
Your mind raced, every possible scenario flashing before you. The influence Jungkook’s family wielded wasn’t just intimidating, it was terrifying. They were rich, powerful, and connected in ways you could only imagine.
For all you knew, they could probably make someone disappear without a trace. And standing face-to-face with Junghyun, you started to think that was your chilling reality.
You swallowed hard, meeting his gaze with as much resolve as you could muster, but the unease in your chest lingered. You felt trapped, cornered by an enemy who knew just where to strike to hurt you the most.
"Well, sweetheart, I want to leave him out of this too..." Junghyun sighed, his tone mockingly sympathetic. "And you know exactly what you need to do for that to happen."
His words struck like a hammer, each syllable weighing heavier than the last. You felt your whole world collapsing around you, the walls closing in with no way out. You felt suffocated. Cornered. Powerless.
Your gaze dropped to your feet, tears pooling in your eyes despite your desperate attempts to hold them back. The fight within you slowly crumbled, leaving only the unbearable weight of his ultimatum.
You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you fought to keep yourself composed.
"I'll break up with him." you whispered finally, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. A tear slipped down your cheek, the first crack in the dam as the reality of your surrender settled in.
Junghyun stepped down from the bleacher stands, his slow footsteps growing louder in your ears. You didn’t move, your feet rooted to the ground as if the weight of your decision had physically anchored you.
He stopped in front of you, and you felt his presence, his amusement radiating like poison. A soft laugh escaped him, sending shivers down your spine.
"Now that was easy, wasn’t it?" he mocked, patting your head like you were a child who had just followed orders. Your jaw tightened, teeth gritting at the humiliating gesture, but you remained silent.
"And this goes without saying, but... Jungkook should never hear about this encounter." Junghyun said, his voice low and taunting as he stepped closer.
You didn’t respond, your throat too tight and your mind too fogged with fear and anger to formulate a reply.
He smirked at your silence before brushing past you, deliberately bumping into your shoulder as if to remind you just how insignificant he believed you to be. The force was slight, but it felt heavier, laden with the weight of everything he’d taken away from you in the matter of mere minutes.
The chilly breeze cut through the quiet, and you felt it settle deep into your bones, a reminder of just how cold the world could be.
"Miss Choi!" a little voice pierces through the haze of your flashback, pulling you back to reality. Your eyes shift from the bleacher stands outside to the source of the voice. A little girl waves her broken color pencil in the air, her tiny face scrunched in distress.
You force a smile, the corners of your lips lifting as you walk towards her. "Give me that, let me sharpen it for you, Sera." you say softly, patting her head. She nods cutely, her eyes wide with trust and gratitude.
You exhale deeply, the weight in your chest still pressing down as you make your way to the trash can. As the sharpener scrapes against the pencil, you think to yourself. Stop dwelling on the past.
You knew how deeply you felt for Jungkook. He was more than just a fleeting love... he was a part of you, your safe place. But the weight of Junghyun's threat had been too much to bear. It wasn’t a fight you could win, not against soemone as powerful as him.
The memory of that day gnaws at you, the helplessness, the bitterness of making a decision you despised with every fiber of your being. But what choice did you have?
Handing the pencil back to Sera, you muster another soft smile. Her joyful expression tugs at your heart, a stark contrast to the storm inside you.
All you can do now is hope that Jungkook is living a happy life, far from the shadows of the truth that forced you apart.
//
Jungkook adjusts his position in the sleek leather chair, trying to focus on the ongoing meeting. The conference room hums with the low murmur of voices as his team discusses the logistics of their next community outreach initiative.
The large screen at the front displays a vibrant presentation, but his mind drifts, struggling to stay anchored in the moment.
“Mr. Jeon.” Eunwoo, the Chief Operating Officer, speaks up, pulling him back to reality. “We’re finalizing the details for the event at the Sunflower Orphanage this weekend.” he says, his tone calm but purposeful.
“It’s part of our ‘Healthy Futures’ program.” Eunwoo continues, “Where we teach the kids about nutrition and provide them with tools to build healthier habits.”
Jungkook nods, his jaw tightening slightly. He taps his pen against the notepad in front of him, the blank page mirroring his lack of focus. “Good. Ensure we send enough materials for the interactive sessions. I’ll review the activity plans later today.”
Eunwoo presses on. “We’re also organizing a cooking demonstration for the older kids and distributing care packages with nutritious snacks and recipe guides. It might be a good idea for you to attend. I think the kids would really enjoy meeting you.”
Jungkook exhales softly, running a hand through his hair. Public appearances at these events are part of his responsibility, something he takes seriously. Yet, the thought of being surrounded by bright-eyed children feels heavier than usual, a strange weight pressing against his chest.
“I’ll check my schedule.” he replies, his tone measured, masking the unease he can’t quite shake.
As the meeting concludes, Jungkook steps out of the conference room, loosening his tie as he makes his way towards his office. The familiar click of shoes on the polished floor follows close behind, signaling his secretary, Jimin, is trailing him.
“Your schedule is free, Mr. Jeon.” Jimin remarks, a teasing edge in his voice. “It’s literally the weekend.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, letting out a long sigh. “I know, but I just don’t feel like going.” he mutters, his stride purposeful as he heads towards his cabin.
Jimin quickens his pace to match Jungkook’s, his tone light but persistent. “The kids would love it, Mr. Jeon. Plus, it’s your responsibility.”
Jungkook groans inwardly, knowing there’s no winning an argument when Jimin uses that reasoning. “Fine.” he relents, glancing over his shoulder with a pointed glare. “But... you’re coming with me.”
“Of course.” Jimin quips with a smirk, unfazed. “I go wherever my boss goes.”
Jungkook shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself, before pushing open the door to his cabin. “You’re insufferable.” he mutters, disappearing inside. Jimin grins to himself, adjusting his tie. “It’s part of the job.” he mutters quietly before heading back to his desk.
//
The familiar scent of antiseptic and faint floral air freshener envelops you as you step into the hospital. You glance around, taking in the sight of doctors briskly walking in their white coats, nurses tending to charts, and patients navigating the lobby with family members by their sides. The soft hum of conversations and the occasional beep of monitors create a somber yet steady rhythm.
You make your way to the reception desk, offering a small smile to the woman behind the counter. Her face lights up with recognition.
“You’re early today.” she notes gently. You nod, your expression soft. “I just missed Beomgyu.” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. She smiles warmly, her eyes filled with understanding. “Go ahead.” she says, motioning towards the elevator.
You thank her with a brief smile before turning and stepping into the elevator, pressing the button to take you to the floor where your brother’s room is.
The soft chime of the elevator brings you back to reality as the doors slide open. You walk down the familiar corridor, each step feeling heavier as you approach his room. Pushing the door open, your breath catches in your throat as your eyes land on Beomgyu. His motionless body lies on the bed, the faint hum of medical equipment the only sign of life. Four years. It’s been four long years, and he hasn’t moved an inch.
You sit down in the chair next to his bed, your hands trembling as you reach for his. His hand is cold in yours, and the weight of it brings tears to your eyes. But you blink them away, determined to stay strong.
“Hey, Gyu.” you whisper, brushing your thumb gently over his knuckles. Your voice is soft, filled with a bittersweet mix of hope and sorrow. “I’m here.”
No matter how many times you see him like this, it never gets easier. Each visit feels like a fresh wound, a new wave of pain crashing over you. He was your only family and the sight of his still body, the steady beep of the monitor, and the faint rise and fall of his chest... it all feels both familiar and unbearable. Every time, it’s as if a tiny piece of your heart breaks all over again.
As you stare at his face, a sigh escapes your lips, heavy with the weight of countless unshed tears. "Gyu..." you whisper, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "It’s getting so hard." Your words falter, carried by the quiet hum of the machines that have become the soundtrack of his existence.
"No matter what I do... I just... I just can’t stop thinking about him." you confess, closing your eyes as the first tear escapes, tracing a slow, burning path down your cheek. Your grip on Beomgyu’s hand tightens, your thumb brushing over his knuckles in slow, rhythmic motions. Though his hand remains lifeless, you hold on as if it’s your last tether to sanity, as if somehow he can feel your anguish.
Maybe he hears me, you think, clinging to the hope that keeps you returning to this room day after day. "I miss him so much." you murmur, your voice cracking under the weight of those words. The sob that escapes your lips feels like a betrayal, exposing just how deeply the pain has taken root.
Beomgyu never met Jungkook... yet, in your heart, you know that if he ever did... he would have absolutely loved him.
You remember that one day you brought Jungkook here, to visit Beomgyu, his hand firmly holding yours as you led him down these sterile hallways.
He had sat beside you, his arm wrapped protectively around your trembling frame, as you told him about the accident that had stolen Beomgyu’s vibrant spirit and left him in this suspended state. Jungkook’s presence had been an anchor that day, steady and reassuring, his soft murmurs giving you the courage to speak through your tears.
And then, there was that promise. You can still hear your own voice, shaky but determined, as you looked into Jungkook’s eyes. "When Beomgyu wakes up, you’ll be the first to know." The memory feels like a lifetime ago, a fragment of a world where hope felt tangible and love wasn’t wrapped in layers of regret.
Now, that promise lingers like a ghost, haunting you with its impossibility. The weight of it presses against your chest, suffocating in its quiet accusation.
You lower your head, your tears falling silently onto the sterile sheets, wishing for a reality where things could have been different... where Beomgyu would wake up, and Jungkook would still be yours to call.
//
After spending about forty minutes sitting by your brother’s side, you feel the weight of time press down on you. With a reluctant sigh, you lean forward, pressing a gentle kiss on his cool forehead. The stillness of the room wraps around you like an unwanted embrace, amplifying the ache in your chest.
You stand, taking a moment to drink in the sight of him, his face so serene yet painfully distant. Finally, you force yourself to turn away, the sharp pull of grief hurting you even as your feet carry you towards the door.
The hospital hallways stretch before you, illuminated by fluorescent lights that feel too bright for the heaviness clouding your heart. The muted chatter of families and nurses echoes faintly around you, but you tune it out, your focus on the floor ahead.
Every step feels heavy, yet familiar... grief walking alongside you like an old companion. You’re lost in thought, your mind lingering on memories you can't quite hold onto, when the sharp ring of your phone jolts you back to the present.
You pause, fishing the device out of your bag. The name on the screen makes a faint smile touch your lips. "Hey, Joonie." you greet, your tone soft but warm.
“Oh my god Y/N...Hi... where have you been?” Namjoon’s voice filters through, steady yet tinged with his usual concern. “I was just visiting Beomgyu.” you reply, stepping into the elevator as the doors slide open.
“Ah...” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a gentler note. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”
“No, not at all.” you assure him, leaning against the elevator wall. “I was just about to leave anyway. What’s up?” There’s a slight pause on the other end before he continues talking. “I wanted to check if you’re coming to the orphanage this weekend. You know... for the volunteering session.”
The mention of the orphanage brings a warmth to your chest. Your lips curve into a genuine smile as you think of the place that’s come to feel like a second home. “Of course I’ll be there.” you reply without hesitation.
“That's great!!” Namjoon says, a hint of relief in his tone. “Mrs. Lee mentioned there’s going to be some kind of workshop for the kids, though I’m not really sure what it’s about.”
You hum thoughtfully, stepping out of the elevator as it dings open on the ground floor. “A workshop? That sounds interesting. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what it's about.” you muse, the faint hum of curiosity threading through your voice.
Namjoon chuckles lightly. “Yeah, seems like it. Anyways, you get home safe, Y/N-ah. I'll see you on the weekend.” he says. “See you Joonie... Bye.” you reply, your smile lingering as the call ends.
As you slip your phone back into your bag and step into the cool evening air, a quiet sense of purpose washes over you. The orphanage, specifically, the Sunflower Orphanage, holds a deeply rooted place in your heart.
It’s not just a building, it’s a chapter of your life, a part of your story written alongside your brother, Beomgyu as the two of you grew up there and navigated a world that often felt too vast and too indifferent.
Volunteering there every weekend for the past month with Namjoon hasn’t just been about giving back to the place that shaped you, it’s become a way to honor the struggles you and Beomgyu once faced.
It’s a way of making peace with the past while helping to build a brighter future for the children still living it. The act of helping others has started to feel like a balm for your soul, a small piece of healing in a journey that has felt insurmountable at times.
More than that, it’s helped you stay busy, distracted, keeping your mind from wandering too often to the void that has been lingering in your life for the past four months, an emptiness you’re not ready to confront fully yet.
Every smile from the kids, every hug, every story they share with you reminds you why you’ve always wanted to be a kindergarten teacher.
Now, being able to follow your dream and also volunteer at the very orphanage you grew up in, doing your best to give these children the care and love you once longed for, feels profoundly rewarding.
There’s a bittersweet comfort in walking the same halls you once did, now as a volunteer instead of a resident. You find joy in helping the kids paint their dreams on blank canvases, in reading stories that spark their imaginations, and in simply being a presence they can rely on.
The Orphanage, with its chipped walls and resilient spirit, has become more than a part of your history... it’s a part of your healing, too.
//
Saturday
"Shit, shit." you mutter under your breath, hastily paying the cab driver before dashing towards the entrance of the orphanage. You were supposed to be here early today, especially since you knew there was a workshop planned for the kids.
Mrs. Lee had mentioned needing help with the setup and cleanup, and you’d eagerly offered. But luck hadn’t been on your side. First, your original cab broke down, forcing you to find another. Then, traffic decided to conspire against you, dragging out what should’ve been a quick journey into an agonizing wait.
As you ran up the steps at the entrance, slightly out of breath, your eyes catch on something that brings you to an abrupt halt. A large banner hangs above the double doors, bold letters printed across it. The sight of it makes your stomach churn.
“No way...” you whisper, realization dawning like a bucket of ice water poured over your head as you read the banner. “This is… Jungkook’s workshop?”
You stand frozen, trying to process what you’re seeing. The placards stationed around the entrance leave no room for doubt. Each one bears the unmistakable logo of his company. The presentation materials stacked neatly by the door, the branded posters, and even the staff moving equipment inside all scream his involvement.
You inhale sharply, the air catching in your throat. Of course, it had to be here. Of all the orphanages in the city, the one you’ve been volunteering at for the past month had to be the very place where Jungkook... your ex boyfriend, Jungkook... is hosting a workshop. The universe really has a twisted sense of humor sometimes.
“Fuck.” you mutter, closing your eyes and trying to calm the storm brewing in your chest. You press a hand against the doorframe to steady yourself, taking deep breaths to fight off the anxiety creeping up your spine.
Your mind races with questions you’re not sure you want answers to. Is he here? Or is this one of those events where his employees take the lead while he stays behind the scenes? Should you turn around and leave before anyone notices, or would that make things worse?
You glance back at the cab, still idling by the curb. For a fleeting second, the idea of jumping back in and leaving tempts you. But then you hear the sound of children’s laughter filtering through the open doors, mingling with the excited chatter of the staff, and you know you can’t just leave.
Bracing yourself, you take another deep breath and step inside, your heart pounding harder with each step. The familiar warmth of the orphanage wraps around you, but today it feels heavier, tinged with the tension you’re carrying. You repeat a silent mantra, trying to ground yourself. Stay professional. This is about the kids. Nothing else matters.
“I’ll just… I’ll just pretend I don’t know him.” you mutter under your breath, nodding to yourself as your footsteps echo in the hallway.
//
As you step into the bustling main hall, your eyes land on Namjoon almost immediately. The minute he spots you too, it doesn’t take long for him to weave his way through the crowd towards you, his expression a mix of shock and concern. “Y/N…” he begins, his voice low but urgent as he reaches you. “I had no idea this was going to be his workshop.” The disbelief in his tone mirrors your own feelings.
You throw your head back, a groan escaping your lips. “I know. What the hell am I supposed to do? Is he really here, though? Or is it just his team running the workshop?” you ask, a flicker of hope creeping into your voice as you glance at him.
Namjoon hesitates, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he’s trying to cushion the blow. “Unfortunately…” he starts, his tone apologetic. “He’s here. I just saw him talking to Mrs. Lee a few minutes ago.” You close your eyes, rubbing your temples. “This is so, so, so not fair.” you mutter, your frustration bubbling over.
“Hey…” Namjoon’s voice softens as he places his hands on your shoulders, steadying you. His calm presence is like an anchor in the midst of your swirling emotions. “You’re going to be fine. I know breaking up with him was hard for you, but right now... the best you can do is just stay professional. Pretend like you don’t know him and I’m sure he won’t approach you… I hope.” he adds with a small, uncertain smile.
You let out a shaky sigh, your shoulders slumping under the weight of the situation. Namjoon’s logic makes sense, but it does little to calm the storm brewing inside you. “I haven’t seen him in four months, Joon.” you admit, your voice shaky. “And now, of all times, I have to see him? Here?”
Namjoon offers you a sympathetic look, his hand squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “I know it’s hard, but I know you’ve got this. Just try your best to avoid him.”
You nod slowly, though you’re far from convinced. This isn’t a situation you can simply walk away from. Jungkook’s presence is inevitable now, and the thought of seeing him again, after everything, sends a whirlwind of emotions crashing through you.
You're aware Jungkook won't be expecting to see you here today and you can't help but wonder what his reaction will be when he actually ends up seeing you. Would his expression shift the moment he spots you? Would it be one of cold indifference, barely a flicker of acknowledgment? Or something sharper like anger, disappointment, perhaps even sadness? The possibilities swirl in your mind, each one more unsettling than the last.
Shaking your head, you force yourself to brush the questions aside. There’s no time to dwell on this right now. You take a steadying breath and look around the busy hall. It’s high time you start helping out. After all, you’re already late, and the least you can do is make up for lost time by pitching in wherever you’re needed.
//
Once all the kids are settled in their seats, their excitement bubbling over in the form of giggles and whispers, you step back, making your way to the back of the room. Namjoon is already there, his arms crossed loosely as he leans against the wall. You take your place beside him, exhaling deeply, trying to calm your heart and mind.
As the workshop begins, your eyes inevitably drift to the front of the room. Jungkook stands there, effortlessly commanding attention. He’s dressed sharply but casually, the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down shirt exposing his tattooed forearm. His presence is magnetic, and it’s no surprise that even the youngest kids are riveted as he begins to speak.
“This program is called 'Healthy Futures'.” he starts, his tone warm and inviting. “It’s about giving you the knowledge and tools to take care of your health. Eating the right food, staying active, and understanding how to take care of your bodies... it’s not just important now, but it’ll help you for years to come.”
He gestures to a large poster board displaying colorful illustrations of fruits, vegetables, and simple meal plans. “Today, we’ll talk about nutrition, and we’ll even have some fun activities to show you how to make smart food choices. You’ll see how easy it can be to make meals that are both delicious and good for you.”
The kids are wide-eyed, soaking up every word. Jungkook’s ability to connect with them is undeniable. As he dives into the presentation, explaining concepts in simple, engaging terms and peppering his talk with questions to keep the kids involved, a small smile tugs at your lips.
You watch as he crouches down to a child’s level, handing them a flashcard and encouraging them to name the food group it belongs to. The way his eyes light up with genuine enthusiasm when the child gets it right is a sight that momentarily softens the ache in your chest.
You can’t help but smile, even if it’s bittersweet. Seeing him like this... passionate, caring, and entirely in his element... reminds you of the man you fell in love with. His natural charm, the way he effortlessly makes others feel seen and valued, is just as captivating now as it was then.
Namjoon nudges you gently. “You okay?” he asks, his voice low. You nod again, your gaze fixed on Jungkook. “Yeah.” you whisper, though the lump forming in your throat makes it a struggle to get the word out. “I’m fine.” you say.
//
As Jungkook wraps up his talk, his voice is steady and warm, a reflection of the effort he’s poured into making this workshop meaningful. “Alright, kids, now it’s time for the fun part...” he announces with a grin.
“My team is going to help you make a simple, healthy snack, something delicious and easy that you can make yourselves... so follow them and they'll guide you through the process." he says.
The children erupt in cheers and applause, their excitement echoing through the hall. Jungkook’s smile widens at their enthusiasm, the earlier reluctance he felt about being here melting away.
It’s moments like these that make everything worth it. Seeing their faces light up is a reward far greater than any professional accolade.
As the kids begin to disperse, following the other employees out of the hall, Jungkook takes a moment to glance around, his eyes scanning the room to take in the atmosphere. And then he suddenly sees you.
Jungkook lips part as he watches you intently, his eyes trailing as you exchange words with Namjoon before following him out of the room. His throat feels dry, his mind reeling.
She's… here? The words echo in his head as his heart pounds erratically against his ribcage.
He gulps, trying to steady himself, but the unexpected sight of you has thrown him completely off balance. Before he can fully process his spiraling thoughts, Jimin’s voice cuts through the haze.
“Mr. Jeon, shall we?” he prompts, his tone professional but gentle, unknowingly grounding Jungkook back to the present. He blinks, nodding faintly as he forces his legs to move, trailing behind his secretary towards the activity room.
But just when he enters the activity room, what he doesn't expect is for you to be the first person he sees. You’re standing just a few feet away, holding a precarious stack of trays to distribute it among the kids. Your focus is elsewhere, until your eyes suddenly meet his. The world tilts for a moment as your face registers a mix of shock and disbelief.
The impact of seeing him here, so close, sends a jolt through you. Your grip falters, and before you can stop it, the trays slip from your hands, the clattering sound echoing through the room as everything scatters across the floor.
The kids go silent, their chatter replaced by a stunned hush as all eyes turn towards you. The embarrassment and panic that flood your system make your skin prickle, but before you can even begin to move, Jungkook is already in front of you.
“Are you... are you okay?” His voice is low, concerned, his hands gently closing over yours as if to steady you. His touch is firm yet hesitant, and the warmth of his palms against your skin sends a shiver through you.
You can barely process his words, your heart pounding too loudly in your ears. Your lips part, but no sound comes out as you struggle to respond. The way he’s looking at you... those familiar dark eyes filled with a mixture of worry and something deeper, makes it impossible to think straight.
“I uhhh... I’m fine.” you finally stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. Your cheeks burn as you quickly try to pull your hands back, but he doesn’t let go immediately. His fingers linger for a second longer than necessary, as if he’s reluctant to lose the contact.
Namjoon, having watched the entire scene unfold, clears his throat as he approaches. “Y/N, are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?” he asks, his tone gentle yet purposeful, as if trying to diffuse the tension.
“I’m fine.” you repeat, louder this time, forcing yourself to look away from Jungkook as you pull your hand away from his and focus on the mess on the floor. You crouch down, starting to pick up the scattered trays, desperate to avoid his eyes. Namjoon joins you without a word, but you can feel Jungkook’s gaze still fixed on you.
Jimin steps forward, clearly confused by the sudden commotion. “Mr. Jeon, should we...” he starts, glancing between Jungkook and the scene before him, but Jungkook barely acknowledges him. His focus is solely on you, his mind racing as he tries to process everything.
For Jungkook, this moment feels surreal. He hadn’t prepared himself for seeing you... not here, not like this. And now, with you so close yet seemingly so far, the weight of everything unsaid between you presses down on him like a tidal wave.
He wants nothing more than to just hold you, to pull you close and take in every detail of your face. These four months have been nothing short of hell, filled with an unrelenting ache for your presence.
But as he watches you so obviously avoiding him, he feels rooted to the spot, his mind scrambling to find the right words... words that refuse to come out.
//
Once the kids are fully immersed in their activity, you quietly slip out of the room, desperate for a moment to catch your breath. The weight of Jungkook’s presence had pressed on you relentlessly for the past twenty minutes, his gaze a constant reminder of the unresolved emotions between you two. Each stolen glance felt like it peeled back layers of the wall you’d carefully built around yourself.
The hallway is quiet as you walk towards the large window at the far end, your footsteps muffled against the polished floor. You pause there, gazing out at the orphanage’s small garden, the scene outside blurring as your mind spins.
Your fingers find the pendant hidden beneath your sweater, and you begin to fidget with it, the familiar texture grounding you. This pendant, this tiny piece of jewelry, holds a weight of its own, a connection to a past that feels both distant and ever-present.
Seeing Jungkook up close had hit you harder than you expected. He hadn’t changed. He was still just as beautiful, still radiated that quiet warmth that had always drawn people to him. The same warmth you’d once found comfort in.
And you missed him... God, you missed him in a way that made your chest ache. But that only made it worse. Because you couldn’t let yourself fall apart, not now, not when you had to face him. You’re so lost in thought that the sound of a familiar voice startles you.
“Y/n.”
Your body tenses instantly. You don’t turn, your fingers reflexively tucking the pendant back beneath your sweater as if it’s some fragile secret you need to protect. You stay facing the window, your breaths shallow as you try to steady your heartbeat.
“You… won’t even look at me?” Jungkook's voice is soft, hesitant, but the pain in it cuts through you like a blade. You bite your lip, your eyes still fixed on the view outside, but all you can feel is him. The rawness of his words sinks into you, heavy and unshakable.
“Y/n…” His voice comes again, quieter this time, almost breaking. It’s not just a name... it’s a plea, one you wish you could ignore but know you can’t.
You hate this. You hate that Jungkook, of all people... the kindest, most selfless soul you’ve ever known... is standing here now, burdened by the pain you caused him. You hate that you’re the one who turned his world upside down. And yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to face him.
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself as you turn to face him. Your expression is blank, a carefully constructed mask. “What?” The word comes out cold, clipped, and you instantly regret the sharpness of your tone.
Jungkook’s gaze softens as he studies you, his dark eyes tracing the contours of your face. You still look the same... still breathtaking, still the person he fell hopelessly in love with. But there’s something different too, a guardedness that wasn’t there before, a distance he doesn’t know how to bridge.
“How… how have you been? It’s been a while.” he says softly, his voice laced with hesitation as he takes a tentative step closer.
“I’m fine.” The words come quickly, too quickly, as if you’re desperate to end this conversation before it can even begin. You don’t meet his gaze for long, your eyes flicking away like you’re afraid of what he might see.
Every second in his presence feels like an eternity, the weight of the emotions swirling between you both, suffocating. You can’t do this. Not now, not like this. The effort of keeping your face neutral, of pretending you don’t feel the same pull towards him that you always have... it’s too much.
Without another word, you move to step past him, your focus solely on the hallway ahead. But before you can escape, his hand reaches out, catching your wrist. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt through you, halting you in your tracks.
“Wait.” he says, his voice quiet but firm. There’s a vulnerability in his tone that makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you can’t bring yourself to look at him.
You take a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his hand wrapped gently around your wrist. It’s almost unbearable... how much harder this is than you’d expected. Having him so close, right there behind you, stirs emotions you’ve fought tirelessly to suppress.
Slowly, you turn over your shoulder, finally meeting his eyes. The intensity in them is overwhelming, a deep sea of emotions you can’t bring yourself to name. They hold so much... questions, pain, longing and you feel a lump rise in your throat as you let out a shaky breath.
“Let me go, Jungkook.” you say quietly, your voice steadier than you feel. You try to tug your wrist free, but his grip tightens ever so slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to keep you rooted in place.
“I didn’t expect to see you here…” he says softly, his voice low and filled with something you can’t quite place. He’s ignoring your plea, but there’s no malice in it, only hesitation, like he doesn’t want to let go just yet. “I’m volunteering.” you reply flatly, forcing the words out without a hint of emotion. “And I need to go.” you add, your tone clipped as you yank your wrist out of his hold.
This time, he lets you go, his hand falling to his side as he watches you stride away from him as fast as you can manage. You don’t dare look back, even as you feel his gaze linger on you, burning into your retreating figure. Your heart pounds with each step, your emotions bubbling dangerously close to the surface, but you don’t stop. You can’t.
You barge into the restroom, letting the door shut heavily behind you. The cool air does nothing to soothe the storm raging inside you. Instantly, your hands fly up to cover your face, a desperate attempt to stifle the sobs threatening to escape.
Your chest heaves as you fight against the tears that burn at the edges of your eyes, your palms pressing against your cheeks as if holding yourself together. But it’s futile. The weight of seeing him again... his voice, his touch, the unspoken pain in his eyes, comes crashing down on you all at once.
A strangled breath escapes your lips, and you lean against the sink for support. Your fingers grip the edge of the cold porcelain as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, your blurred vision making it hard to focus.
“This isn’t how it was supposed to be.” you whisper to yourself, your voice breaking. Your tears fall freely now, streaking down your cheeks as the emotions you’ve bottled up for months finally spill over. The ache of his presence, the agony of your unresolved feelings... it’s all too much.
You press a trembling hand against your chest, trying to steady the harsh pounding of your heart. For a moment, you close your eyes, taking deep breaths as you attempt to compose yourself. But the pain lingers, sharp and unrelenting.
//
The workshop winds down, the chatter of children and clinking of utensils slowly fading into the background. You’ve spent the entire afternoon and evening carefully maneuvering to avoid Jungkook’s gaze, your heart in a constant state of unease.
Every glance he threw your way, every fleeting moment you felt his presence nearby, only made the weight in your chest heavier.
By the time the clock strikes 8, exhaustion has seeped into your bones, not just from the work but also from the emotional toll of the day. Mrs. Lee thanks you warmly as you help her finish setting up dinner. Namjoon remains by your side, quiet but supportive, his presence a comforting anchor in the chaos of your thoughts.
“You did great today.” he murmurs softly as you both step out of the main hall, his tone gentle. You offer him a faint smile, appreciating his effort to lighten your mood, but the turmoil inside you is too heavy to shake off completely.
Finally, you decide it’s time to leave. Walking down the stairs by the entrance, you feel the cool evening breeze brush against your cheeks. You glance up at the darkening sky, the stars peeking through faintly, their distant glow a stark contrast to the storm swirling within you.
Pulling your coat tighter around you, you fix your bag on your shoulder and bury your hands in your pockets. The thought of going home to the solace of your quiet living room, sappy rom-coms, and a tub of ice cream feels like the only reprieve you’ll get tonight.
As you reach the bus stop, you take a seat on the cold bench, staring at the empty road ahead. The world around you feels quiet and still, yet your mind is an undying chaos. Your thoughts drift back to Jungkook... his voice, his touch, the way his eyes silently pleaded with you earlier and just how much you miss him.
You sigh heavily, resting your elbows on your knees and burying your face in your hands. The ache of seeing him again lingers like a ghost, refusing to leave you be.
As you attempt to gather your thoughts, the soft hum of an approaching engine disrupts your reverie. Your head lifts instinctively, and before you can process it, a sleek car pulls to a stop right in front of you. The headlights cast a gentle glow on the empty road, but it’s the sight of the driver that makes your breath hitch.
Your lips part in surprise, your brows furrowing as the window rolls down. There he is, his dark eyes fixed on you.
“Y/n.” Jungkook calls softly, his voice carrying over the quiet evening. You sigh, a mix of frustration and weariness bubbling within you. Without a word, you stand, shifting your gaze to the left, hoping to catch sight of the bus that feels agonizingly far from arriving.
“Y/n, it’s late. Let me drop you home.” Jungkook says, his tone gentle but insistent. Your heart stumbles at the offer, the thought of being alone with him sending your nerves into overdrive. You don’t trust yourself... not with how raw and exposed you feel after today. So, you do what you’ve been doing all afternoon. You ignore him.
Fixing your gaze on the road ahead, you refuse to acknowledge him. “Y/n, please…” His voice softens, almost breaking. You clench your jaw, the plea digging into you, forcing you to glance at him. “Just go, Jungkook.” you snap flatly, your tone colder than you intended.
Jungkook’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as your words hit him like a blow. He swallows hard, his gaze never leaving you. “I’ll just drop you home. Please, it’s not safe this late.” he persists, his determination unwavering.
You shake your head, muttering under your breath as you start walking down the pavement, each step heavier than the last. But Jungkook, true to his nature, doesn’t back down so easily.
The car begins to crawl forward, matching your pace as you walk. His persistence is both frustrating and heartbreaking. You can feel his gaze through the window, silently urging you to stop, to listen, to look at him.
“Y/n.” he calls out again, his voice tinged with desperation. Your chest tightens as you quicken your steps, hoping to outrun the storm of emotions brewing within you. But no matter how far you walk, Jungkook is right there, his car trailing you like a shadow, refusing to let you go.
The sound of the car suddenly stopping and the door opening breaks through the rhythm of your footsteps, and you stiffen. You don’t turn around, determined to maintain your resolve, but then you feel it... a firm yet gentle hand gripping your arm, spinning you around effortlessly.
Your eyes widen as you find yourself face-to-face with Jungkook, the intensity in his gaze pinning you in place. His breath is uneven, as if he’s been chasing you, though he hasn’t. “Please.” he says, his voice raw and pleading. “Just let me drop you home. That’s literally all I’m asking.”
His words hang heavy between you, and for a moment, you close your eyes, exhaling sharply. His persistence is unrelenting, and deep down, you know your bus isn’t arriving anytime soon to save you from this situation.
You pull your arm free from his grasp, the warmth of his touch lingering even as you step back. Without meeting his gaze, you walk towards his car, your resolve cracking under the weight of exhaustion and inevitability.
Sliding into the passenger seat, you settle into the cold leather with a resigned sigh, the door closing behind you with a soft thud. He'll just drop me home, you convince yourself as you don’t look at him, keeping your gaze fixed ahead.
Jungkook quietly gets back into the driver’s seat, his movements careful as if afraid to shatter the fragile silence that now envelops the two of you. The hum of the engine rises again, but neither of you say anything, the tension stretching thin as the car begins to move.
As Jungkook drives, the rhythmic sound of the tires on the road fills the car, but the silence between you feels louder, heavier. Your gaze remains fixed outside the window, the passing streetlights casting fleeting glows across your face. Your hands clutch your purse tightly on your lap, a silent anchor to steady your racing emotions.
The stillness is suddenly broken by his voice, soft but heavy with restraint. “So… how have you been?” he asks, his eyes focused on the road ahead.
You don't answer. You don’t move. You don’t flinch. Your determination to stay silent grows stronger as you think about the consequences of letting him back into your life. The jagged edges of your reality press against you like shards of glass.
“Y/n…” he calls out again, his voice gentler this time, but still, you keep your gaze fixed outside, ignoring the crackling tension in the air.
He exhales audibly, the pain in his voice more evident now. “Y/n, I haven’t seen you in four months... and now you’re here, but you’re acting like I don’t even exist.” His words tremble, and you feel the sharp sting of guilt twisting in your chest.
“You’re right here.” he murmurs, almost to himself. “But why do you feel so far away?”
Your lips tighten into a thin line, and your grip on your purse grows tighter. You can feel his eyes on you, searching, pleading, but you refuse to meet his gaze. “Are you really not going to talk to me… at all?” he asks, his voice breaking slightly at the end.
Jungkook glances at your side profile, his knuckles white against the steering wheel as he fights to hold himself together. The hurt in his chest feels unbearable, a weight pressing harder with every second of your silence.
He’s done his best to come to terms with your absence, with the breakup, even when the harsh reasons you gave felt like flimsy walls hiding something bigger. But now, sitting this close to you and being treated like a stranger, it cuts deeper than he expected.
“You know what…” Jungkook suddenly mutters under his breath, and though you hear the shift in his tone, you don’t move, don’t react. But then the car swerves abruptly, jerking to the left. Your head snaps towards him, eyes wide with shock as you clutch the handlebar above your seat.
“Jungkook!” you exclaim, your heart hammering as you notice the road signs signaling that he’s no longer heading towards your neighborhood.
“I can’t do this anymore.” he says, his voice firm but tinged with exhaustion. His grip on the steering wheel tightens and his foot presses harder on the gas pedal, the car speeding up.
“Jungkook, what are you doing?? Slow down !!” you demand, trying to mask the panic creeping into your voice. “We need to talk.” he states simply, his eyes focused on the road ahead as if there’s nothing else in the world but his determination.
Your breath catches in your throat, and your mind races. “Jungkook, turn the car around.” you say firmly, though your voice wavers slightly.
But he doesn’t listen. Instead, his jaw tightens, and the speed of the car increases further, the scenery outside blurring. Then it hits you... he’s heading in the direction towards his place.
“Jungkook…” you begin, your voice softer now, a mixture of anger and disbelief.
He doesn’t answer this time, his silence carrying more weight than words ever could. His gaze remains locked forward, the muscles in his jaw ticking as if he’s trying to rein in the storm brewing within him.
You glance outside, feeling both trapped and helpless. Every instinct in you screams to argue, to demand that he stops, but a part of you... a small, stubborn part wonders what he’s so desperate to say.
After 10 tense minutes of silence, the car finally comes to a halt in front of Jungkook's building. He doesn’t waste a second, stepping out of the car and slamming the door behind him. You watch him from the corner of your eye, your hands still gripping the purse on your lap, as he strides purposefully to your side of the car.
Before you can even process what’s happening, he pulls the door open, and the chill of the night air sweeps over you, making you shiver. He leans down slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with an unrelenting determination that sends your heart racing.
“Come with me.” he says, his voice steady but soft as he extends a hand towards you. You stare at his hand, conflicted, the weight of the moment pressing down on your chest. You feel cornered, unable to escape this situation he’s forced you into.
“Jungkook…” you begin, but the words catch in your throat. He sighs, his shoulders sagging slightly, as if the plea in your voice strikes a chord in him. But before you can say anything else, he gently grabs your wrist. The touch is soft, hesitant, but there’s an urgency to his movements as he guides you out of the car.
You stumble slightly, your body still resistant, but he steadies you with a firm yet careful grip. He’s desperate, you can see it in the way his brows furrow, the way his lips press into a thin line as if he’s barely holding himself together. “Jungkook, I...” you breathe out, the words getting stuck in your throat.
“Just… please.” he interrupts, his voice raw with emotion. “I just wanna talk.... Please.”
His eyes search yours, and you can feel the ache in them, the unspoken pain he’s been carrying. Your chest tightens, and for a moment, you’re frozen, unable to say no, unable to pull away. He doesn’t give you a chance to argue further, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, his fingers curling around yours as he gently but firmly leads you towards his house.
You let out a shaky breath, the weight of the moment heavy in the air as you reluctantly follow him.
As Jungkook shuts the door to his apartment, the click echoes in the silence. He turns to face you, his eyes soft but piercing, like he’s searching for something he’s desperate to find.
“Y/n.” he says, your name rolling off his tongue like a plea.
You try to avoid his gaze, looking anywhere but at him, but then his hands come up to cup your face, his warmth grounding you in a way that sends a pang through your chest. His touch is gentle, yet insistent, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
“Y/n, please.” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “Just talk to me.”
Your breath hitches, and you instinctively step back, only to feel the cool, unyielding wall against your back. You’re cornered... literally and emotionally... and the weight of the moment bears down on you.
Your emotions, so carefully locked away, begin to bubble to the surface. Anger, regret, frustration, they all swirl together, threatening to consume you. Gritting your teeth, you grab his wrists and pull his hands away from your face.
“Just leave me alone.” you choke out, your voice breaking. The tears that have been fighting to escape finally spill over, cascading down your cheeks. Before you know it, you’re sobbing uncontrollably, your body trembling as the dam holding back your emotions shatters.
Jungkook’s eyes widen in shock as he watches you unravel before him. His heart clenches painfully at the sight of your tears, the sound of your sobs cutting through him like a knife. He steps closer instinctively, his hands hovering uncertainly as if unsure whether to comfort you or give you space.
“Y/n…” he begins, his voice soft and hesitant, but you shake your head violently, interrupting him.
“You can’t do this, Jungkook.” you cry out, your voice trembling with frustration. “After everything I did to cut you off… you can’t just... just pull me back like this.”
Your words hit him like a blow, and he takes a shaky step back, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Do you think this is easy for me?” he finally says, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want to pull you back, Y/n. But how am I supposed to let you go when I don’t even understand why you left?”
His words hang in the air, and you stare at him through your blurry vision, your heart pounding as his pain intertwines with yours. You’re both standing on the edge of a precipice, the weight of your shared history threatening to pull you under.
The air between you feels heavy, thick with emotions neither of you can control anymore. Jungkook’s gaze locks onto your tear-streaked face, his breathing shallow as he watches the pain and turmoil in your eyes. Something inside him snaps, and before he can stop himself, he takes a step forward, closing the distance between you.
His hands cradle your face, trembling slightly, as he leans in and harshly presses his lips against yours. It’s desperate, unrestrained, and raw. The suddenness of it makes you gasp, your breath hitching as his lips move against yours, pouring every unspoken word, every unanswered question into the kiss.
Your eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, your mind is overwhelmed by the flood of memories... his laugh, his touch, the way he used to make you feel like you were the only person that mattered. But as much as the kiss ignites a fire inside you, your tears don’t stop.
Jungkook feels the wetness of your tears against his palms, and it pulls him back abruptly. He steps away, his face etched with regret and panic, as if realizing he may have crossed a line he shouldn’t have.
“I... I’m sorry.” he stammers, his voice shaking as he searches your face. “I shouldn’t have—”
Before he can finish, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him back towards you, your lips colliding with his in a kiss that’s equally urgent and desperate. Your hands clutch onto him like he’s the only thing anchoring you to reality, and this time, the weight of all the emotions you’ve been holding back crashes into him.
Your kiss is messy, tinged with anger, longing, and sorrow, but it’s real. It’s the connection you’ve been denying for so long. Jungkook responds immediately, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer as if afraid you’ll slip away again.
The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in this moment, grappling with the emotions you’ve tried so hard to suppress.
Your lips never part, not even for a second, as you start pulling each other’s clothes off, letting them fall to the ground one after the other. Every single article of clothing gets discarded in a trail leading from his door step to his living room.
The heat between you intensifies, growing hotter and wilder with every second. It’s like you’ve been starving for each other, for this moment, this connection for so long that now you can’t help but devour each other.
You know you shouldn't be doing this. You know you can't face the consequences of your impulsive actions, but your heart refuses to let go. You're completely consumed by the passion and intensity of the kiss, unable to pull yourself away even when you have so much on the line.
Even as you walk into his apartment, your lips remain connected, your hands gripping his arms, holding onto him as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go. The world spins around you as he picks up the pace, guiding you to the couch. Your feet brush against the soft carpet, sending shivers up your leg, and before you know it, you feel the cushion behind you.
The feeling of Jungkook on top of you is nothing less than heaven. You run your hands up and down his tattooed arm, feeling the way his muscles tense with each touch. His kisses trail down your neck, making you squirm under him.
“Fuck...” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin as he takes off your bra in a swift motion.
He groans softly, his eyes wide as they drink in the sight of you beneath him. Then his gaze falls to your collarbone, lingering on the familiar pendant resting against your skin.
"The... necklace." he notices, his fingers reaching out to brush it gently. His touch is reverent, almost hesitant, as if the small piece of jewelry holds all the words he can’t say. He looks up into your eyes, a subtle smile curving his lips.
"You... you never took it off?" he asks, his voice laced with slight disbelief.
"Never." you affirm softly, your voice steady yet tender. His eyes soften, glimmering with emotions too deep for words, and for a moment, it feels as if the necklace is the silent thread that has always held your hearts together.
“I…” his voice trails, and you can tell he’s struggling to find the right words. “I fucking missed you.” he breathes out and without giving you a chance to respond, he leans down and presses his lips to your chest.
You let out a moan as he starts sucking on the skin between your breasts, and your hips squirm beneath him. “Kook…” you gasp as his mouth closes around one of your nipples, making you arch your back. He bites down gently, and you can't help but cry out in pleasure.
You can feel his body shaking on top of you, the desperation to get closer to you is so so evident. His hand slides up your leg and rests at your waist before slipping under your back, lifting your hips to meet his. The kiss that follows is sweet and gentle, like he’s trying to apologize for everything that’s happened between you, even when it's not his fault.
Your hands move to his hair, twisting into the dark strands as you pull him even closer. You can’t stop yourself, you can’t resist him anymore. The feeling, the warmth, the electricity, it’s too hard to fight. Your body is craving his, and he’s giving you all the affection you’ve been craving for these past four dreadful months.
His lips trail down your body, stopping at the spot between your legs as he slides your underwear down your legs. You gasp as you watch him dip his head, the warmth of his tongue circling your clit. Your hands grip the couch, and your body arches in reaction to the pleasure he’s sending through your body.
“Fuck.” you gasp, barely able to string the words together as he presses his face between your legs. Jungkook moans, his tongue licking around your clit in firm, steady strokes. Your hands move from the couch to his shoulders, pushing him further between your legs.
He looks up at you, his eyes filled with hunger and desire, his chin wet from your arousal, as he grips your hips and pulls you closer. He buries his tongue as deep as it can go, causing your body to jerk in reaction.
You cry out his name, your voice hoarse as your hands grip his hair. Jungkook feels himself get harder as he flattens his tongue, applying pressure to your clit. “Fuck… please... please Kook... don’t stop.” you beg as he licks you faster, your hips rocking against his face.
Your moans echo through the empty apartment as Jungkook works you closer and closer to release. When he stops sucking your clit and presses his tongue deep inside of you instead, you lose it, your orgasm washing over you in waves.
You can’t do anything but lay there and take it, your legs shaking and twitching around his face as your body convulses with pleasure.
He kisses his way up your body, licking the sweat from your skin before he finally reaches your lips. The taste of your arousal on his lips sends heat through you, and you moan as his tongue enters your mouth.
Your tears are back, running down your cheeks as you try to process the moment. Jungkook pulls away from your lips and places his forehead against yours. His thumb softly wipes your tears away, as he tries to process this surreal moment himself.
“Fuck...” he whispers as he slowly rubs his length against your core, sending sparks through your body. You feel the warmth of his skin against yours... your bodies pressed together in a way you can't comprehend.
“I... I need you baby....” Jungkook murmurs against your lips, his length rubbing against you. You breathe heavily as you nod, wanting him to just take you right here, right now.
With one swift motion, he pushes himself inside you, filling you completely. Your lips part as you take in the feeling of being stretched out by him.
Jungkook stills for a moment, taking in the feeling of finally being back inside of you. He thought he’d never have you like this again, that he’d lost you forever, but here he is, buried deep inside your warmth. His eyes stare into yours, watching your chest heave up and down as you try to adjust to the feeling you had so deeply missed.
You stare into him, sniffling as your tears refuse to stop flowing. “I love you...” you hear him say as he leans forward again, capturing your wet lips in an urgent kiss.
As the kiss grows intense, he starts moving his hips, thrusting in and out of you in a slow and steady pace. Your hands grip his arms, digging your nails into his skin as you arch your back. Jungkook kisses you harder, his moans filling the air around you.
His movements are filled with need and longing, like he’s afraid this is the last time he’ll get to make love to you. He wants to take in every moan, every thrust, every gasp he gets from you.
You’re lost in the sensation, consumed by the pleasure Jungkook is giving you as his body moves over and into you. He holds you down, his weight pinning you to the couch as he makes love to you in his living room. You feel his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he thrusts deeper inside you.
Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer as you gasp for air but his hands grip your legs, moving them up his body as he lifts your ankles to rest on his shoulders. The change of position causes him to slide deeper inside you, and you gasp as he hits a familiar spot inside and all you can see is stars.
“Oh god....” you moan as he starts increasing his pace. Your lips part as the sensation washes over you. Jungkook leans down, pressing his lips to yours as he fucks you with reckless abandon. He’s chasing his own release, but he wants you to come with him.
He thrusts into you over and over again, his hands gripping your waist as he holds himself up. Your hands are on his ass, pushing him closer, begging for more as he groans into your mouth.
Your moans fill the air as you feel your body build towards a second release. Jungkook feels it too, his pace picking up as he drives you over the edge once more. “I’m...I'm coming...” you cry, your nails digging into his skin.
Jungkook groans in response, his thrusts becoming wild and desperate. He fucks you like he can’t get enough, like he’ll never get to have you again.
You moan into his mouth as your orgasm washes over you once more. Your body convulses under him, and you can’t do anything but let it take you over. Jungkook grunts, his body shaking above you as he chases his own release.
“Fuck baby...” he groans as he fills you up and collapses on top of you his body shuddering and his hips thrusting into you a few more times, stretching out his orgasm as much as he can. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close as you take in the warmth of his body against yours.
Jungkook presses a tender kiss to your shoulder, the gesture carrying a weight of emotions he can’t put into words. The moment feels surreal, almost fragile, as if one wrong move could shatter it.
He never imagined he’d hold you like this again, the warmth of your presence grounding him in a reality he once thought he’d lost forever. To him, this feels like a stolen dream... achingly beautiful, yet tinged with the fear that it might slip away.
He slowly rolls off you, settling beside you against the soft cushions of the couch. His arms wrap around you instinctively, holding you close as his eyes trace the lines of your face.
The exhaustion etched into your features tugs at his heart. His gaze drifts downward, gazing at the necklace around your neck. You didn't take it off and... that must mean something right? As he continues taking in the sight of you, he feels an overwhelming ache rise within him... he had missed you more than words could ever convey.
A thousand questions crowd his mind. He wants to speak, to ask, to understand, to unravel everything that had been left unsaid and find a way back to what you guys once were. But then he notices the way your eyelids flutter, heavy with weariness, and the soft, unsteady rhythm of your breaths as you try to calm yourself.
He swallows the urge to press for answers, deciding that for now, the questions can wait. Morning will come soon enough. Instead, he tightens his hold on you, his heart pounding in his chest as he silently wills himself to remain still. The warmth of your presence soothes him, and he closes his eyes, hoping that sleep will find him in the solace of this stolen moment.
//
Jungkook's eyebrows knit together in his sleep, a slight twitch running through his body as he shifts uncomfortably on the couch. His eyes flutter open, and he instinctively clutches the blanket against his chest. Blinking groggily, he glances around, the familiar sight of his apartment slowly coming into focus.
The realization that he’s on the couch sinks in, and like a tidal wave, the memory of last night crashes into him. His breath hitches, and he jolts upright, his heart pounding in his chest. Panic bubbles beneath the surface as he glances at the empty space behind him.
He looks down at the blanket draped over his body, a puzzled frown forming as he struggles to recall when or how it got there. His eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of you, but the stillness of his apartment feels unnervingly hollow. The silence presses down on him, heavy and suffocating.
Rising to his feet, Jungkook starts moving through the apartment, his voice shaky as he calls out your name. "Y/N??" he tries again, his tone more urgent this time. But there’s no answer.
Each step he takes only amplifies the sinking feeling in his chest. He checks the kitchen, the bathroom, his bedroom, even the balcony, but you’re nowhere to be found. His mind spirals, questioning if last night had been a cruel dream... a mirage conjured by his yearning.
Or had you truly been here, only to slip away quietly in the morning? The thought twists his stomach, leaving him nauseous as he leans against the wall, his hands trembling. Did he really lose you all over again?
Jungkook doesn’t waste a second. His movements are frantic, hands fumbling as he pulls on his clothes in haste, not even bothering to smooth out the wrinkles. His mind is racing, each thought more urgent than the last. He grabs his keys and bolts out the door, the sound of it slamming shut echoing through the empty hallway.
His heart pounds as he throws himself into the driver’s seat, the familiar hum of the engine roaring to life beneath him. His knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel, the tension radiating through his body. His eyes burn with exhaustion, but the ache in his chest far outweighs it.
The city is still waking up, the roads bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun. Jungkook doesn’t care. He presses harder on the accelerator, weaving through the sparse traffic with reckless determination. Every red light feels like a lifetime, every delay an unbearable agony.
He can't stop thinking about you. The way your touch felt like home, the way your lips trembled against his last night, and the way your tears spoke of everything you were too afraid to say. He can’t let that go. He won’t.
The thought of losing you again, of waking up every morning knowing you’re out there but not by his side, terrifies him. It’s a kind of pain he doesn’t think he can survive twice.
As he nears your neighborhood, his pulse quickens. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, or how you’ll react, but none of it matters. All he knows is that he needs you... more than air, more than anything.
Parking haphazardly in front of your house, he bolts towards your door, his heart hammering as he begins knocking. There’s no answer, and his anxiety only grows. He steps off your porch, wondering where you could be.
He rushes outside, reaching the pavement, desperately scanning the neighborhood, hoping to catch a glimpse of you somewhere.
He runs through the neighborhood, his heart pounding, the anxiety gnawing at him as he checks every corner, every familiar path, but you're nowhere to be seen. Yet, something inside him refuses to give up.
As he nears the park at the edge of the neighborhood, he slows down, taking a breath to steady himself. His eyes sweep over the quiet space, and in that moment, it’s as if time slows... until he sees you, sitting alone on a distant bench, your figure outlined against the soft glow of the morning light, looking smaller and more vulnerable than he’s ever seen you.
He wastes no time as he runs towards you, his footsteps growing louder as he approaches you, his figure growing more defined with every step. His heart is racing, not just from the frantic search, but from the sheer desperation to be close to you again, to make sure you’re okay.
You sit still, your eyes widening in disbelief as you realize he’s found you. A rush of emotions flood through you... surprise, guilt, and a wave of regret. You can't help but wonder how he managed to find you here.
You glance down, unable to meet his gaze as the memories of last night resurface. The vulnerability of the moment hits you hard. You had fled his apartment at dawn, unable to face him after everything. The way he had held you, the way everything felt so perfect in the heat of the moment... it scared you.
You knew you had no answers to his questions, no way to explain the reasons behind your past actions. And the truth? That was something you couldn’t give him, not now, not when you have so much to lose. The only thing left for you to do was leave him behind and slip away like a coward, hoping he wouldn’t follow.
But here he is, standing before you, his presence too much to ignore. You don't know whether to run again or finally face him.
Jungkook’s eyes are full of pain as he steps closer to you, his voice shaking with a mix of frustration and hurt. “You left.” he breathes out, as if the weight of his words is too much to bear.
“Why... why did you leave?” His voice cracks at the end, vulnerability spilling through in a way he can’t control.
You try to look away, but his gaze pulls you in. The truth, too raw and too close to the surface, is something you can’t escape. You can feel the crack in your heart widen with every passing second. "Jungkook... we're broken up." you whisper, barely meeting his eyes.
"No." he denies, the sharpness in his breath betraying the desperation in his chest. "Don't say that, especially after last night." His voice is pleading now, fragile, cracking in a way that shakes him to the core. His fists clench at his sides with the effort to keep himself together.
"How can you say that after everything? After what happened between us? How... can you just walk away like that? How can you pretend like... none of it mattered?"
He takes a step closer, his eyes burning with a need to understand, to hold on to the fragments of what he thought was still there. "The past four months... it’s been hell, Y/n. I’ve been drowning in this silence, wondering every day what went wrong. I never got an answer. You just... left. Without a word, without a valid reason. And I hate it. I hate that I don’t know why. I hate that you just cut me off like I meant nothing. Like everything we had... it was all just a lie."
You look at him, the tears unknowingly streaming down your face. "Kook..." you start, but he cuts you off. "I tried to let go... I tried to make peace with it... but... but it hurts, Y/n. It hurts more than I can put into words, and I don’t even know what I did wrong." he pauses, trying to calm himself down.
"I don’t know what happened between us. Why did... why did you leave me? Why did you make me feel like I was nothing to you?" His voice cracks, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. You stare at him, the lump in your throat intensifying. "You... you were everything to me. I thought we had a future together, Y/n. But now, I’m just... I'm just so lost.... I'm so lost without you."
Jungkook steps back for a moment, his hands running through his hair in frustration as he tries to make sense of it all. His breath is shallow, a quiet sob escaping him as he collects himself. "I need to know..." he mutters, barely audible. "Why? What... what happened? Please, just tell me."
He takes another shaky breath, the weight of his emotions almost unbearable. "Don’t tell me... you stopped loving me." he pleads, his voice raw and desperate. "I know that’s not true. I know you would never be so harsh to me." His words are laced with disbelief, as if he’s clinging to any shred of hope that there’s something he’s missing, something he can grasp, something that makes sense.
“I can feel it, Y/n.” he continues softly, eyes never leaving yours, searching your face as if it holds the answers. “I know you love me. You can’t just... stop. Not after everything we went through. Not after what we had.” He steps closer again, his heart aching at the thought of losing you. “So don’t tell me that’s it. Don’t tell me you just decided it was over.”
"I never stopped loving you." you whisper, your voice barely audible as hot tears continue to roll down your cheeks. The weight of your words feels like an anchor in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You feel weak, defeated... like there’s no hope left.
The sight of him standing there, shivering in pain, breaks you in ways you didn’t think were possible. His pain, the hurt you’ve caused, fills you with an overwhelming sense of guilt.
Your heart aches as you watch the way his eyes fill with confusion and desperation, his hands trembling as he reaches out to you, as if just a touch could make everything okay. But you know, deep down, that nothing can probably fix this.
"I'm sorry." you whisper, barely able to get the words out. "I'm so sorry, Jungkook. I never wanted to hurt you." The tears flow freely now, staining your cheeks as you try to find the strength to speak, to explain, but the words feel stuck, trapped inside you.
As you break down, Jungkook takes a seat beside you as he hesitantly wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. You bury your face in his chest, the tears coming in waves, uncontrollable, as the weight of everything you've been holding in comes rushing to the surface.
His hands gently stroke your back, soothing you in a way that makes everything feel just a little more bearable. Every sob that wracks your body seems to break his heart a little more, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he tightens his grip on you, as if reminding both of you that, for now, you’re not alone.
Jungkook feels his own tears begin to spill as he pulls you even closer, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. His fingers tremble as they weave through your hair, trying to hold you as tightly as possible, as if he could absorb some of your sorrow.
The weight of the silence between you both is suffocating, but his mind races, desperately trying to understand why you’re in so much pain, why you had to leave him, why you feel so broken.
"Y/n..." His voice cracks, raw with emotion as he speaks your name. His chest tightens with the fear that maybe he’s never truly known the full story, that maybe everything he thought he understood was just an illusion.
His tears fall freely now, as he presses his forehead against yours, his breath shaky. "Please, just tell me. What happened?" His words are barely above a whisper, but they hold a desperate plea. "Why are you like this? What... what am I missing?"
His hands move to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that continue to fall. He’s not sure if he’s crying for the both of you or if he’s just so lost in your pain that it feels like it’s his own. "I can’t lose you again, Y/n. I need to know... why we are the way we are right now. Please, just tell me. I can’t fix it if I don’t understand."
His grip on you tightens, the urgency in his voice rising as he gazes into your eyes, searching for some kind of answer, anything that will explain the devastation he’s feeling. His love for you is still so strong, so unyielding, but the fear of losing you completely is almost too much to bear.
Just as you're about to speak, your phone starts ringing, its shrill tone cutting through the heavy silence. You hesitate for a moment, unsure whether to pick it up, especially given the fragile state you're in right now. But the phone keeps ringing, insistent, and you feel a knot tighten in your stomach.
With a sniffle, you pull away from Jungkook, trying to compose yourself as you reach for your phone. "Just a minute..." you whisper, wiping away the last of your tears as you glance at the caller ID.
It's the hospital. Your heart skips a beat at the sight, and before you can think twice, you answer, trying to steady your voice. "Hello?"
"Am I speaking to Ms. Choi?" the voice on the other end asks. Your breath catches in your throat, and without a second thought, you stand up, your heart rate increasing with every passing second. "Yes, this is she." you reply, trying to keep your composure, but the panic is starting to rise in your chest.
Jungkook watches you intently, noticing the change in your expression as you stand up. His concern deepens as he observes the tension in your body. Who could be calling you at this hour? You grip the phone tighter as the voice on the other end continues speaking, but then you gasp, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.
He watches in horror as you suddenly collapse, your knees buckling beneath you. It's like all the strength has left your body. His instincts kick in immediately, and he's by your side in an instant, crouching down and reaching out for you.
His hands land gently on your shoulders as he pulls you towards him, trying to steady you. The phone slips from your grasp, clattering to the ground, but you don’t seem to notice. Your eyes are wide, unblinking, and you stare ahead, lost in whatever news you've just received.
"Y/n... what happened? Are you okay?" Jungkook's voice is laced with worry, his hand moving to your cheek to check for any sign of awareness. You blink a few times, as if snapping back into reality, but it’s still hard to focus. Your lips tremble as you finally meet his eyes, and you whisper his name. "Jungkook..."
His heart races as he holds you tighter, desperate for you to continue. He nods, prompting you to keep talking. "Jungkook... Beomgyu... he... he woke up." you say.
"What...?" Jungkook asks, his voice laced with disbelief. His wide eyes search your face for confirmation, and when he sees the glimmer of truth in your tear-streaked expression, his features soften into a smile. "Y/n... that's... that's great news. That's... amazing news, baby." His voice wavers, a mix of relief and joy, and his smile grows wider.
You nod quickly, the reality of it hitting you all over again as fresh tears stream down your cheeks. "He's awake, Jungkook... he's really awake." you whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of happiness and overwhelming emotion.
You pause, glancing around as you try to calm yourself down. "I need to go see him. I... I need to get to the... the hospital." you say hurriedly, the urgency in your tone impossible to miss.
Jungkook catches your arm gently but firmly, grounding you for a moment. "Hey, hey." he says softly, looking into your eyes with a steady calmness. "I'll take you there, yeah? My car’s parked right outside your house, so let’s go. Come on." he softly says as he helps you up.
//
You barge through the hospital doors, your steps quick and frantic, your heart racing as you navigate through the lobby. Jungkook follows close behind, his presence a comforting weight amidst the chaos swirling in your mind.
You reach the elevator and jab the button repeatedly, as though it might make the lift arrive faster. The ride up feels like an eternity, and yet, when the doors slide open, you're already bolting down the hallway towards Beomgyu's room.
Finally, you stand outside the door, your hand frozen on the handle. You take a shaky breath, trying to collect yourself, your chest rising and falling with the weight of four long years of waiting. Four years of imagining this moment, of rehearsing what you’d say, how you’d feel... but now, standing here, all those thoughts dissolve into a haze of indescribable emotion.
Jungkook steps beside you, his voice soft and steady as he whispers. "He's waiting for you, baby." His words calm you, giving you the courage you need to face what’s on the other side of the door. You glance at him, his warm eyes filled with reassurance, and you nod, summoning the strength to push forward. With trembling hands, you carefully push the door open and step inside.
There he is. Beomgyu. Sitting up in bed, his back resting against the headboard, alive and awake. The sight is almost surreal, a moment that feels too precious to be real.
He looks at you with a lopsided grin, his expression as cheeky and familiar as ever. "Long time no see, Your Highness." he quips, his tone lighthearted and playful, as if the last four years hadn't just been wiped away by a miracle.
Your breath catches, a soft laugh escaping you as tears well up in your eyes again. "Beomgyu..." you whisper, your voice breaking. The weight of the years, the pain, the hope... all of it rushes to the surface as you step closer, overwhelmed by the reality of seeing him awake.
You rush to his side, tears streaming freely down your cheeks as you throw your arms around him in a tight embrace. The warmth of his body against yours is enough to break down every last wall you'd built over the years.
You remember all the times you'd playfully swatted him away, rolled your eyes, or made a face every time he tried to hug you because back then, you liked to act like showing affection to your sibling was embarrassing.
But right now, there’s no hesitation, no second thought. Right now, you’ve never felt more alive.
“I missed you.” you sob, your voice muffled against his shoulder as you clutch him like you’re afraid he might slip away again. The tears come harder as the realization sinks in that this moment is real. He’s real. The long, agonizing wait is finally over.
Beomgyu chuckles softly, his voice steady yet laced with emotion. "Wow, I must really be a sight for sore eyes if you’re this clingy." he teases, though his arms wrap tightly around you, holding you just as fiercely. His familiar, playful tone only makes you cry harder.
"You idiot." you choke out, your voice trembling as you pull back just enough to look at him. Your hands cup his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that now spill from his eyes too. "Don’t you dare scare me like that ever again. Do you hear me? Never again."
His grin softens, and he nods, his own tears mirroring yours. "I promise." he whispers, his voice quieter, more solemn now. "Never again."
Jungkook lingers near the doorway, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches the reunion unfold. The raw emotion in your embrace, the way you cling to Beomgyu like he might vanish if you let go... it stirs something deep within him.
He knows how long you've waited for this moment, how often you spoke of it with a mixture of hope and pain. Seeing you finally experience it makes his heart swell with happiness for you.
But then, Jungkook freezes as Beomgyu's gaze shifts towards him. His eyes widen slightly, realizing that this is the first time Beomgyu is seeing him.
“Who’s... that?” Beomgyu asks, his voice curious but steady. His brows furrow slightly as he nods towards Jungkook. You turn to follow Beomgyu’s gaze, and when your eyes meet Jungkook’s, you can’t help but smile.
“That’s Jungkook.” you say softly, glancing back at your brother before looking at Jungkook again. There’s something tender in the way you say his name, something that makes Jungkook’s smile widen as he nods politely at Beomgyu.
Before anything else can be said, the doctor appears and Jungkook steps aside letting him in. “Ms. Choi.” the doctor greets with a warm smile. “Congratulations. It’s wonderful to see Beomgyu awake and responsive. However, we’ll need to run a few tests now, just to check his overall condition.”
You nod understandingly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek as you stand. “Of course... thank you, doctor.” you say, turning back to Beomgyu. You lean down to place a soft kiss on his forehead, your smile filled with a quiet reassurance. “I’ll be right outside, okay?”
Beomgyu nods, his grin still cheeky. “Don’t disappear. I need you to explain who that guy is and why he was looking at you with literal heart eyes.” he teases, his playful tone making you chuckle as you shake your head.
You glance at Jungkook, who’s scratching the back of his neck, looking a little flustered. “Behave.” you tell Beomgyu with a laugh before stepping outside with Jungkook, leaving your brother in the capable hands of the doctor.
As you settle into the metal chair right outside Beomgyu's room, beside Jungkook, the cold steel pressing against your back is a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand as it gently rests on your knee. His fingers squeeze lightly, offering some silent comfort.
You glance down at the way his hand fits so naturally on you and let out a small, tired smile. Placing your hand over his, your thumb begins to trace slow circles over his knuckles, grounding yourself in the quiet rhythm of the motion.
Your voice breaks the silence, soft but weighted. "Junghyun... he came to see me."
Jungkook’s brows knit together in confusion. “Junghyun? My brother?” he repeats, his tone disbelieving as he tries to process your words. You nod, your gaze shifting to the sterile white tiles of the hospital floor.
“Four months ago... he came to the kindergarten.” you admit, your voice faltering slightly. You exhale deeply, trying to steady yourself before diving into the painful memory.
The words spill out in fragments, raw and hesitant, as you recount the confrontation with Junghyun. You describe the way he appeared out of nowhere, his presence overbearing, his threats sharp and deliberate. You tell Jungkook how he used your brother's condition against you, twisting it into a weapon, leaving you cornered and helpless.
By the time you finish, the tension in Jungkook’s body is palpable. His jaw is clenched tight, and his fists curl against his knees. His breath is sharp as he mutters through gritted teeth, “That motherfucker…”
His reaction makes your chest tighten, a mixture of relief and guilt washing over you. He’s angry... angrier than you’ve ever seen him but you know it’s not directed at you. It’s the thought of his brother’s cruel manipulation, the pain you endured in silence, that has his blood boiling.
"I'll be right back." Jungkook says firmly, already standing up and walking away with purpose. Panic rises in your chest as you quickly catch up to him, already guessing where he’s headed. "Jungkook, no... wait, stop." you plead, reaching out to grab his arm.
He stops abruptly, turning to face you and holding your shoulders gently but firmly. His dark eyes lock onto yours, filled with resolve. "Y/n, just trust me." he says, his voice steady yet reassuring. "He won’t be able to do anything. I’ll make sure... I’ll make sure you and Beomgyu are safe. I promise."
You open your mouth to protest, but he shakes his head, cutting you off before the words can escape. "I need to put him in his place." he breathes out, his jaw tightening. "He needs to know he can’t talk to you like that. He needs to understand what you mean to me." His voice softens slightly, the tenderness in his gaze making your heart ache.
"Just stay here with Beomgyu." he continues, his tone resolute. "I’ll be back soon. I promise."
Before you can stop him, he steps closer, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead, his touch lingering like a silent vow. Then, without another word, he turns on his heels and strides down the hallway, his determination unwavering. You stand frozen, watching him disappear, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet of the hospital.
//
Jungkook barges into his brother's home office, the door slamming against the wall with a loud bang. Junghyun glances up from his computer, a bemused expression on his face. "Oh, Jungkook? Didn’t expect you to visit on a Sunday. What brings you—"
His sentence is cut off abruptly as Jungkook strides over, grabbing his collar and yanking him to his feet. Before Junghyun can even process what’s happening, a powerful punch lands squarely on his cheek. He stumbles back, clutching his face in shock, but Jungkook doesn’t let him regain his footing.
With a growl of anger, Jungkook throws another punch, the impact snapping Junghyun’s head to the side. The metallic tang of blood fills the air as a crimson streak trickles from Junghyun's split lip.
"Jungkook!" Junghyun finally manages to shout, his voice laced with both pain and disbelief. "What the fuck are you doing?"
Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately, his chest heaving as he towers over his brother. His fists clench and unclench, the anger rolling off him in waves. "That’s for threatening Y/n." he snarls, his voice dangerously low. "You think you can mess with her? Intimidate her like that? Not while I’m here."
Junghyun glares at him, wiping the blood from his lip, his shock slowly giving way to a cold smirk. "So, this is about her?" he mutters, his tone mocking despite his obvious discomfort. "You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment, Jungkook. How pathetic."
But Jungkook doesn’t flinch. Instead, he grabs Junghyun by the collar again, pulling him close. "Listen to me." he says through gritted teeth. "Stay away from her. If you ever even think about going near her or Beomgyu again, I swear, you’ll regret it."
Jungkook lets go of Junghyun with a forceful shove, sending him sprawling back into his chair. "All this for a girl like her? Really Jungkook?" Junghyun scoffs, his tongue poking the inside of cheek. "You have no idea what she means to me." Jungkook says lowly, glaring at his brother.
Jungkook’s jaw tightens, his fists still clenched at his sides. His voice drops to a low, dangerous tone. "You have no idea what she means to me." he says, his glare unwavering. "And you never will."
Junghyun chuckles bitterly, his face twisted in disdain, but before he can retort, Jungkook steps closer, his presence commanding. "Do you think Dad’s going to be proud when he hears what you’ve been up to?" Jungkook asks, his words sharp and deliberate.
Junghyun’s smirk falters ever so slightly. "You think he’ll be okay with you going around threatening people? Manipulating them? Using fear to get your way?" Jungkook continues, his voice rising slightly. "You’re the pathetic one, hyung."
He pauses, letting his words sink in, then laughs... a dry, humorless sound. "And you know what’s really pathetic? That you thought I wouldn’t find out. That you thought I’d just let it slide."
Junghyun’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing, but he stays silent, his confidence clearly shaken. Jungkook steps back, his glare never leaving his brother. "This is your last warning. Stay away from her. Stay away from Beomgyu. Because if you don’t..." He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "You won’t just have Dad to deal with. You’ll have me."
Without waiting for a response, Jungkook straightens up and strides out of the office, slamming the door behind him, leaving Junghyun to stew in his own discomfort and rising dread.
//
As you help Beomgyu inside your house, he pauses for a moment, letting his eyes wander around the familiar space. His gaze lands on the corner of the room, behind the couch, and a smirk tugs at his lips. "You still haven't gotten rid of that weird vase?" he teases, pointing at the decorative piece.
You roll your eyes, shutting the door behind you. "That's never gonna happen." you reply with a shrug, playfully glaring at him.
He shakes his head in mock disapproval before taking a seat on the couch. The cold fabric causes him to shiver slightly, but he leans back, closing his eyes. "Well... it's good to be back." he murmurs, exhaling deeply.
You stand there for a moment, watching him. Your heart feels so full it could burst. It almost seems unreal... having him here, in your home, after all this time. "Let me cook you some jjajangmyeon." you suggest, breaking the silence.
His eyes snap open, a grin spreading across his face. "Oh my god, how did you know I was craving exactly that?" he asks, his tone amused. "It's a sibling thing." you reply with a wink, heading into the kitchen.
As you start preparing the ingredients, your thoughts inevitably drift to Jungkook, especially since you haven't heard from him ever since he left you at the hospital. You can’t help but wonder how he’s handling the situation with Junghyun. The thought of it makes your stomach churn slightly, but you push the anxiety aside.
"So, where’s your little boyfriend?" Beomgyu's voice interrupts your thoughts, his teasing tone carrying from the living room. A shy smile tugs at your lips, but you don’t respond immediately. "Come on..." he continues, his footsteps drawing closer until he’s leaning casually against the kitchen counter.
"I was in a damn coma for four years, and my bitchless sister finally manages to pull someone, and I don’t even get a proper introduction?"
You snort at his choice of words. "Oh, come on, Gyu." you reply, turning to face him with a mock exasperated look. "I’ll introduce you when the time’s... right." He sighs, clearly unimpressed with your answer. "The time’s right when I say it is." he quips, but his grin betrays the affection behind the teasing.
Beomgyu arches a brow at the sudden sound of the doorbell, his smirk widening with curiosity. "Is that who I think it is?" he quips, leaning back against the counter with an air of playful arrogance.
You glance at him, wide-eyed and suddenly flustered. You smile at him briefly before you quickly make your way to the door, your heart thudding in anticipation. The moment you open it, time seems to still. There stands Jungkook, bathed in the soft glow of the porch light, his presence radiating comfort and confidence. His smile is subtle yet powerful, a silent reassurance that everything is under control.
You step outside, quietly closing the door behind you, shielding the moment from your brother's prying gaze. You fidget with your fingers as words evade you. "So...?" you finally manage, your voice trailing off.
Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he steps forward, closing the space between you. His arms encircle you in a gentle, protective embrace, his warmth instantly melting away your apprehensions. "I punched him." he says at last, his voice tinged with triumph.
Your eyes widen in surprise, and you pull back just enough to search his face. "What?" you ask, your voice rising an octave in disbelief.
"I punched him." he repeats, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips. "Right in the face. You should’ve seen him... completely caught off guard. Like...there's no way he actually had the nerve to mess with my girl."
A mix of shock and amusement washes over you as you lightly smack his chest. "Jungkook! That’s not something to be proud of." you admonish, though the corners of your mouth twitch with an unwilling smile. "Violence isn’t the answer."
His smirk deepens as he tilts his head, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, but in his case, it is."
You shake your head, exhaling a laugh despite yourself. "What am I gonna do with you?" you murmur, your tone caught between exasperation and fondness.
Jungkook’s expression softens, the teasing glimmer in his eyes replaced by an intensity that makes your breath hitch. "Y/N..." he begins, his voice low and steady. "You don’t have to worry anymore. I’ll take care of everything... you, Beomgyu. You’ll both be safe. I promise."
His words hit you hard, the depth of his sincerity leaving you momentarily speechless. He steps even closer, his hands gently cupping your face as his thumbs brush against your cheeks. "I promise you, no one will ever hurt you again. Not while I’m here." he vows, his tone resolute, his gaze locking onto yours.
You nod, your chest swelling with a sense of safety you hadn’t realized you were yearning for. "Just promise me..." he continues, his voice softening. "if anything ever happens again, you’ll tell me. Right away. No hiding, no secrets."
A lump forms in your throat as you nod again, unable to find the words to express the gratitude and trust coursing through you. Jungkook smiles faintly, the tension easing from his features, and he pulls you into another embrace. His arms wrap around you like a fortress, his chin resting lightly atop your head.
"I missed you." you whisper, your voice muffled against his chest.
"I missed you too." he murmurs, his voice filled with emotion as he tightens his hold on you. "More than you know."
After a few long moments, you pull back, your eyes meeting his as the world seems to shrink down to just the two of you. His gaze flickers to your lips, and before you can even register it, he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.
The kiss is tender yet fervent, each movement brimming with unspoken emotions. You feel his love, his promise, and his unwavering devotion in the way his lips meld with yours, leaving no room for doubt that this is where you belong. The porch, the cool evening air, the distant sounds of the world... all of it fades into oblivion as you lose yourself in him.
It's as if a colossal weight has finally been lifted from your shoulders, allowing you to breathe freely for the first time in what feels like forever. In this fleeting, surreal moment, the world fades away, leaving only the steady rhythm of your heart and the warmth surrounding you.
Everything about this feels inexplicably right , the way he kisses you, the way his arms embrace you, the way his presence steadies your storm. You feel complete, as though the jagged pieces of your soul have found their perfect fit. You feel whole again.
"Umm, sooo sorry to interrupt the lovebirds." Beomgyu’s voice drawls out, cutting through the tender moment. You and Jungkook both pull apart and turn your heads sharply, only to see him mischievously peeking out of the window right beside the front door. “But, Y/n, your brother, who just got out of a coma, is really, really hungry and would love for you to finish cooking the jjajangmyeon you promised him.”
You roll your eyes, a flush creeping up your cheeks as Jungkook stifles a laugh. "And, of course..." Beomgyu continues, his grin widening. “He’d absolutely love to finally meet your boyfriend.” He emphasizes the last word, wagging his eyebrows dramatically at Jungkook, who chuckles deeply at your brother's antics.
You groan, covering your face in Jungkook’s chest as he wraps an arm protectively around you, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Gyu, you’re unbelievable.” you mumble, your voice muffled.
Beomgyu shrugs nonchalantly. “Hey, priorities, okay? Food first, making out later.” he teases, shooting a mock salute before disappearing back into the house after shutting the window down.
Jungkook looks down at you, his smile soft and amused. “I like him.” he says with a chuckle. You pull back slightly, playfully glaring at him. “Don’t encourage him.” you warn, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your amusement.
“Come on.” Jungkook says, planting a quick kiss on your forehead. “Let’s go… we can't have your brother starving.” he says.
You laugh, grabbing his hand as the two of you step back inside. The warmth of your house envelops you, and for the first time in forever, you feel okay.
Beomgyu’s playful voice fills the air as he grins from the couch, the sibling bond you thought you’d lost now brighter than ever. Jungkook squeezes your hand, his steady presence a reminder that the hardest days are now way behind you.
In the kitchen, surrounded by laughter and the aroma of cooking, you glance at Jungkook. His soft smile says everything words can’t, filling your heart with a quiet peace.
For the first time in months, you’re not just surviving... you’re actually living. With Beomgyu back where he belongs and Jungkook by your side, your heart feels complete, wrapped in the comforting truth that this... this is what home is meant to feel like.
—fin. ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ
my masterlist <3
2K notes · View notes
lavnder311 · 7 months ago
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Love and Devotion
Just a little something for husbands birthday, I hope you enjoy.
Warnings: Fluff because I love husband Nanami. Female reader. Pregnant reader. Wife reader. Married reader. Not proofread whoopsies. Nanami x female reader.
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Being kento’s pregnant wife meant many things, including a private life. Not in a secretive manner, he just preferred to keep his life private and away from people’s noses. The less they knew about his loving and precious love, the better for both of you.
He’s attentive and devoted. When Kento is devoted to something, he is devoted. Every morning before work, he left a note either on the bedside table next to you, or in the kitchen counter with a heart, along with his pristine handwriting. He would leave a message letting you know he made breakfast or he’d write something cute for you.
‘I made breakfast for you and our little one. See you after work, darling.”
“My love, I already cannot wait for your embrace after work. See you then, much love.”
After the bustling hours of jujutsu, he’d make his way to a bakery near home to get your favorites. He never once complained or protested, bringing you happiness brought him happiness.
When you were watching tv with your light pink sundress, you heard the front door unlock, revealing the eyes of your ever so loving husband with his usual bag from the bakery in hand.
“Ken!” You called out, immediately rising the best you can to quickly waddle to your lover. When you reached to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your height as you kissed him gently. “Welcome home!”
He softly smiled, bringing his hands to your growing and swollen belly, softly feeling around it for any kicks as he looked over your form.
“Hello my darlings,” he placed his hand on the small of your back, leading you to the living room. “Come, love. Can’t have you walking with no socks or slippers now, hmm?”
He gently sat you down before placing your slippers on your feet and looked up at you. “Ken! The French toast this morning was amazing, baby and I loved it.”
“I’m glad, I’ll be sure to add that to our list of favorites, hmm?” He asked, grabbing hold of your hands and kissing them softly.
He’s so gentle with you, so loving, he never lets you do anything that’s too much for you to handle. Even going as far as helping you put your slippers on so you didn’t have to bend over to reach for them.
He’s a gentleman, making the bed extra comfortable for you and your little one before bed and leaving extra blankets and a glass of water on the bedtime table if needed overnight. Of course, every time you needed something, he did it without hesitation.
Like I said, when Kento is devoted, he is devoted.
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Super short but it’s something and I think it’s so cute.
4K notes · View notes
heeliopheelia · 11 months ago
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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓
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genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff
word count: 4.3k
warnings: cursing, crying, neglect, tiny mention of bleeding
a/n: i think i win the contest of overusing commas with this one 🤍 tbh this fic is just yapping so pls deal with me... it's good to write some proper angst again tho, i missed it :(( hope you guys like it and don't find them too repetetive!!
masterlist
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LEE HEESEUNG
It's been two weeks since you got the opportunity to take a proper look at Heeseung. And now as you do, you find it hard to recognize your fiancé who looks like he's about to collapse from exhaustion, to say the least. 
“I never asked you to mother me or worry about me so much. Stop getting into my business so much. I’m not a child, YN.”
It’s like he was blind to how hurt his words and actions were making you feel. It’s so unusual for him, so out of character and unfamiliar to you, that you can’t help but think that maybe it really is your fault for riling him up this much.
“I worry about you because I’m your fiancé and I love you, you jerk!” You scoff at his careless words and take a step back, the aching in your heart only increasing. “I only want to look after you because you clearly don't know how to do it yourself. I mean, look at yourself! You look as if you haven’t slept in a week and I know you haven’t been eating either. How can I not worry about you when all you do is neglect yourself?”
“Dunno, maybe find yourself something to keep you busy enough. You stay at home all day, do as much as nothing, no wonder you’re so damn nosy. I would be too with this much time on my hands.”
He’s so indifferent to everything you say, you try to recall where it all started going so wrong. All you did was ask whether he’s eaten at work or not, and now the two of you are snapping at each other as if you weren’t lovers, and trying not to hurt each other was a long forgotten thought by now. 
“If you’re so unhappy with our relationship – with me, maybe it’s best we take a break,” you say as you feel your throat tighten painfully. 
“Agreed. I never even wanted this marriage in the first place,” he scowls, silencing you, words rolling out of his mouth way quicker than his brain is able to process it. 
He bites his words back quickly when he watches your face dropping along with your shoulders, and fuck, you look as if you’ve given up on him right then and there. 
You walk away then, tears streaming down your face, muttering something about how ungrateful he was being, and all Heeseung could do was stand still as if plastered to the floor, in utter disbelief of his own, untrue, words.
After his cruel statement echoes through his head for the fourth time, he finally snaps out of the self pity and rushes after you to the kitchen where you’re leaned over the counter, head buried in your hands as you cry.
“Baby, I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly. He walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his forehead on your shoulder blade. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry for everything I said, sweetheart.”
He turns you around gently and feels his chest tighten at how fucking sad you look. He never wants to see you like this. He never wants to be the cause of this ever again.
And when he looks to the side, his throat closes and dries completely at the sight of your engagement ring laying on the counter right behind you. 
“Are you sure you didn’t mean it?” You ask, wiping the tears away with your hand pointlessly as another stream follows right after. “Things like that don’t come out of nowhere.”
“I didn’t, love, I swear I didn’t. I’m so fucking sorry,” he breathes out, pulling you closer to him by your neck again. 
Never again. Never fucking again. He keeps telling himself in his head as he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles, just where your ring was supposed to be sitting snugly. Then he lowers it and places your palm against his chest, right above his heart, and covers your smaller hand with his.
That was too close to losing you, and himself, for that matter. Because he would never recover if you were gone from his life and all because of him. 
“Then why did you even say it?” You sob pitifully as you feel the warm tears dripping down the tip of your nose.
“I don’t know,” he shushes you gently, trying his best to not break you any further. 
You pull away once you feel calm enough, hands clutching his t-shirt. “It's not too late to call off the wedding, Seung,” you manage out breathily, raising your palm to cup his cheek. “I'd rather not take the step further than have you unhappy.”
“Darling, no.” Heeseung bends down to minimize the distance between the two of you and peppers your face with loving, warm kisses. He just wants to erase those atrocious thoughts out of your mind as quickly as possible. “Please, there's nothing I'd ever want more than to make you my wife. That was stupid of me to say. I'll never be happy if I'm not with you, my love.”
“I just don’t want to force this marriage on you. You need to want it as much as I do, otherwise it’s pointless.”
Heeseung almost chokes on air when he rushes out his answer even before you can properly finish your sentence. “I do want it. Please, you have to believe me.” 
“Really?”
Heeseung smiles at you softly as he wipes your wet cheeks with his thumbs. “Really. Scout’s honour.”
You breathe out, feeling relief, and look up at him with squinted, puffy eyes. “Sometimes I just wanna strangle you to death, Lee Heeseung.”
He chuckles lightly before pressing one last kiss to your cheek. “Aren't you just so adorable? You should add this to your wedding vows.”
“Maybe I’ll add this to your eulogy instead if you pull shit like that again.”
Heeseung clicks his tongue with a grin pulling on his lips. “Touché.”
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PARK JAY
The atmosphere in the living room is so heavy that your chest starts to hurt. You’re standing barely two steps away from the man you love the most, yet you’ve never felt more far away from him than in this moment. 
His eyes – cold but still undoubtedly full of love, drill holes in the side of your head as you turn your face away from him to try and gather your thoughts.
Arguments with Jay were rare. You always tried to work things out immediately, keeping your heads cool. But something has broken over the last month and you can’t see each other eye to eye anymore. At the very beginning of your relationship you made a promise to never go to bed angry. To never leave things unresolved. Yet now Jay’s been sleeping on the couch for the past week, and you fail to understand what the fuck has happened to the two of you. 
And you can’t help but think that, maybe, sometimes love is just not enough. 
“You’re not even trying to find the middle ground anymore. All you do is snap at me the second I come home. I’m fucking tired of it! Would it hurt to give it a rest for a day?” 
The tension is almost palpable. You hate how you can’t seem to back away from any argument but only keep hurting him instead. 
“Put effort into our relationship first, then we’ll talk,” you spit out instead, against your better judgment.
“It’s funny coming from you who’s done nothing but put a fucking distance between us!”
“This doesn’t make any sense anymore, Jay. We need some time apart,” you finally speak into the dull silence, eyes casted downwards at the floor as your hand keeps twitching, only to finally grab for your ring finger and slip the silver band off of it. You didn’t think much of your action, hell, you didn’t even process it properly. 
Well, not until you hear the shaky exhale leave Jay’s lips. 
Silently, he presses his lips together and nods his head before turning on his heel and leaving the room. You listen intently to the shuffling, then ringing of the keys and eventually the door being shut. 
A moment of silence turns into minutes of you staring at the ring on your palm with tears burning your eyes mercilessly. 
With your heart falling low to your stomach, you drop down on the couch and tug on your hair slightly, cursing yourself for acting so mindlessly. 
You wallow in self pity in the dead quiet room. The shiny ring feels so heavy and burning in your clenched fist. You take in a deep breath, then quickly slide the band back onto your finger, feeling instantly shielded with it being on its righteous place again.
And just like that, you spend the next three hours on the verge of losing your sanity. With no word from Jay. He’s left your messages unread. He’s left your calls unanswered. 
You don’t know whether he’s okay or hurt or simply gone. All that combined is enough to leave you panicked and terrified, unable to have a second of peace. 
You never meant to take it this far. This – your words and rapid actions, that will forever remain as one of your biggest regrets. You don’t like the idea that you made your other half feel like you’ve taken him for granted. Or for what’s worse, like a person that you can use for unloading your frustration on. 
There’s this throbbing pain in your chest as you realize that maybe he’s not coming back because why would he if you can’t even love him properly?
Your fingers are bleeding from how hard you’ve been picking on your cuticles. 
And then you hear the jingle of keys and soon the front door opens quietly. You know that even after all of this he’s still being careful to not wake you up. It’s killing you how he thinks you’d ever be able to get a wink of sleep without knowing he’s safe. 
You’re quick to drop your phone on the couch and shoot up on your legs, rushing over to the door and throwing yourself on Jay’s neck. 
“I was so worried about you!” You gasp out, clinging onto your fiancé desperately as tears unknowingly make their way down your cheeks. “Please, don’t ever do that again!”
“Sorry, my phone died,” he replies after a second or two, bringing his arm up to wrap around your waist and keep you close to him. 
He’s still upset but he understands where you’re coming from, knowing well that if it was you instead of him he’d probably go insane from worry. 
He can feel your heart hammering against his chest, so he lifts his hand and strokes your hair to help you calm down. But then you start crying, feeling his gentle touch even after everything you said, that was enough to push you over the edge. You clench your trembling hands on his sweater as you burst out with choked sobs, slouching against his warm and comforting body. 
“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” you weep into his chest like a mantra and Jay can quite literally feel his heart cracking at your miserable state. 
“It’s okay,” he whispers, hot air hitting your ear before he presses a soft kiss to its tip. “Don’t cry anymore, honey. We’re okay.”
“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you,” you whimper quietly. “Please, don’t leave me.”
“Don’t say that,” he scolds you with a frown. Your whimpers twist his guts even more than your harsh words from before. “It’s not the first nor the last time we’ll have an argument. It’s not worth losing your pretty head over it, okay?” 
“I’m sorry,” you repeat one last time. “I promise I'll never take it off again. I’ll never lash out on you like that ever again too.”
Jay grabs your hand and runs his thumb over the thin silver band, the same one he was picking so carefully for weeks, and a small smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. He hates how shameful you sound. 
He’ll never tell you how the sight of you pulling your ring off your finger made him physically sick to his stomach. He can't have you feeling even worse than you already do. So instead he brings you close to him and rests his forehead on yours. 
“I’m so stupid,” you whisper quietly as you close your eyes, your heavy eyelashes letting go of another few droplets of crystal tears which Jay’s lips soak up instantly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you actually left.”
“You know me better than to think I’d let us break it off over such a petty fight.” And, yes, you do. But your lip wobbles with silent agony at the sole thought of that. “Hey,” he tries again as he presses a loving kiss to your red nose. “I’m not leaving, okay? How could I ever?” 
“I love you.”
With his thumb caressing your burning cheek so tenderly, you feel at peace again.
“I love you too,” he replies without skipping a beat. “No one can handle you as well as I do. And no one sees me for me like you do. We complete each other. We belong together.”
He kisses you silly then, until there’s no more tears left in your body and you’re barely able to breathe anymore. He kisses you until your legs give in and he swoops you up to carry you into your shared bed for the first time in what seems like forever.
He kisses you until it engraves in your mind that there’s no other person for him in this world but you.
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SIM JAKE
“Baby, I already apologized.” A groan lingers at the back of his throat but for his own sake he stifles it inside. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.”
You sit on the edge of your shared bed and clench your fingers on the silky duvet. “How about you start showing up to things we both agreed on attending to?”
He runs his hand down his face. “I know. It just slipped my mind, that’s all. You know how busy I’ve been this week.”
“This shouldn’t be my business only, though. I mean, for christ’s sake, it’s our wedding! I would really appreciate it if you participated in something for once!”
Flowers and cake. That’s literally all you’ve asked of him to go and pick with you for the wedding reception. Knowing his tight schedule, you picked the date carefully so that it wouldn’t meddle with his work and you could even go grab some dinner afterwards. But your plans all went out the window when he didn’t even bother showing up or giving you a heads up text, standing you up yet another time when it comes to your wedding preparations.
You’re honestly getting tired of it.
“I’ll be there next time,” he assures you quickly as he nervously taps his fingers on the doorway of your bedroom. 
“You said you wouldn’t do that,” your voice wavers as your shoulders drop with resignation. With the back of your hand, you wipe off the tears that made their way down your cheeks. “You promised to help, Jake. But you left me alone with everything, as usual.”
“It’s not even that big of a deal. This can be rescheduled any time. Baby, stop stressin’ so much.”
“But it is a big deal to me!” You cry out, palm reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You breathe out heavily. “I don’t want to do everything by myself! We’re supposed to be in this together! If getting married means that I’m gonna be alone with all the responsibilities that you don’t consider important enough, I’m not even sure I still want it.”
To back up your words, your hand moves half-consciously to your ring finger and you twist the cool piece of jewelry in between your fingers. 
“No, no, no, no.” Jake moves quickly, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes towards you to desperately clasp your hand in his two and stop you from whatever the hell you were about to do. He drops to his knees in front of the bed, right at your feet. “Baby, you promised you’d never take it off.”
You’re at a loss of words as you look into his wide eyes, the seriousness of your actions only catching up to you now. You gasp quietly, eyes watering just like his, quickly relaxing your tensed hand in his and letting him slide the ring back down your finger, just where it belongs.
Silence envelopes the two of you, besides the sound of your sniffles. 
You feel awful. 
Jake feels even worse. 
Leaning forward, you press your face to his shoulder and melt instantly when he brings a hand to caress your hair. 
“I'm sorry,” you whisper, clenching your hand to feel the cool ring against your skin. “I don't know why I did that. I didn't mean to.”
“I know,” he soothes you just as softly. He stands up from the floor and carefully maneuvers the two of you so that you’re placed on his lap as he sits with his back against the headboard. “It's my fault. I'm sorry. I never meant to disregard your feelings like that.”
At the end of the day, both of you would rather set themselves ablaze than watch the other one hurting. 
You nod silently, heart pounding in your chest before you bring your arms up and throw them over his neck.
“I’m sorry I was so impulsive.”
“No. You did nothing wrong.” His soothing voice carries over the room, enveloping you with warmth. “I promise I'll be here whenever you want me to from now on. I don’t want you to feel neglected by me, especially now when you’re this stressed over the wedding. I won’t let you down, again.” 
“I just need a little help, that’s all,” you mumble tiredly into his skin.
“I know.” His warm lips press to your forehead lovingly. “I’m sorry for being an insensitive douche. It won’t happen again. I’ll take some days off next week, hm?”
The tears on your face dry slowly as your hold on him tightens. “I’d like that a lot.”
“Then it’s done. I'll be all yours and you’ll be all mine then,” he hums and noses at your cheek, finally bringing out a small giggle out of you. After all these years, he still melts at the sound. “I won’t let things get this out of hand again, YN. I promise.”
“Okay,” you whisper. Tilting your head up and bringing his down towards you, you join your lips in a kiss that you’ve been longing for for days. His movements are slow and careful as he tries to soak up as much of the moment as possible. 
His kisses slowly put your broken pieces back together. He never knew how much seeing you cry like this would hurt him. And he’ll make damn sure he won’t ever have to experience that again for as long as you're with him.
“If I have a life to spend, it'll only be with you, sweetheart,” he lowers his voice to match yours, cradling your cheek in the palm of his hand. “You're it for me. I'll never give you a chance to doubt that ever again.”
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PARK SUNGHOON
“You’re never home! There’s always a hundred things more important to you than spending an hour of your time with me. Your fucking fiance! Are we really about to get married when you’re clearly so tired of me already?”
Your heart pounds in your chest as you finally voice out everything that’s been sitting on your chest for the past month. Things have not been working out well with the two of you, much to your despair. He’s been neglectful, always too busy to help you with anything – even the wedding related things that you should’ve gotten done weeks ago. 
And you know that he’s swamped with work and it's not his fault. You understand everything. But to ask him to spare you an hour or two of his day shouldn’t be too much. It shouldn’t make him snap at you unlike what he just did the second he came back home. You slowly begin to lose your hope.
“God, have you always been this needy? Why can’t you accept that I can’t always put you first? No matter how much I’d want to, sometimes I just can’t! Deal with this!”
“Fucking- Fine.”
Your hand moves quicker than your brain, and the next thing you know, your shiny ring is being pulled off your finger and resting in the palm of your other hand. 
You can see the disbelief flashing through his face briefly before it completely morphs into a scowl. 
“You really think that this will solve the problem?” He asks, eyebrows narrowed as he glowers at you from across the room. “Really? Does that ring mean so little to you that you go and throw it away with any minor inconvenience?” 
You try to blink away the frustrated tears, hand raking up to brush your hair away from your face. “No, fuck, I just- I don’t know what to do anymore, Sunghoon. I feel like I’m the only one in this relationship. I need you to give me something more because whatever you’re doing now is not enough for me.”
“Well, I’m putting out everything I have, YN! I love you! If that’s still not good enough for you, then maybe it’s not meant to be.”
The silence that falls in the room doesn’t last long as your sudden sob pierces Sunghoon’s ears quickly, making his stomach drop to the soles of his feet. His heart wrenches and twists as the anger simmers down and evaporates from his body within a second, and he’s quickly coming back to his senses at the sight of you breaking down right in front of him. 
“Can’t you just try?” You cry into your hands, shielding your face away from your fiance. “That’s all I’m asking of you. Is it really so hard to try?”
No, it’s not. Sunghoon knows it without a second of thinking. It’s not too hard to try, never if it’s for you. And his throat dries so quickly when he basks in the weight of his words that finally made you break as well. 
“You don’t know how much it hurts to feel like you’re too much for your partner,” you wail with a small voice, shoulders trembling and hands quickly getting damp with tears. “You’ll never know how it is to feel unwanted, because you’ll never have to when you're with me. Because I love you, asshole, but now I’m doubting if you’re saying it back just for the sake of it.”
With air getting stuck in his throat, Sunghoon looks at you wide-eyed before quickly crossing the living room and enveloping you in his arms. His warmth wraps around you in what you've always considered to be safety, but now it just makes you cry more. 
He finds it hard to breathe. The hesitation in your eyes feels like a stab to his chest.
“Of course I still love you,” he says, voice muffled by your hair. 
He hates how he made you feel the opposite. He hates how you’re right and he never had to worry about any reassurement of such kind from your side because you’re just that good to him. And his heart breaks with the realization of how much of a lousy partner he’s been to you when all you ever were was nothing less than perfect.
So he places his hand on the back of your head and presses you even closer to his shoulder as you cry, his own eyes burning with tears at the sound of your sobs and sniffles. 
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my darling,” he apologizes with a heavy heart, fearful of what’s about to come next. “I didn’t mean to neglect you this much. I could say that I’m tired and the work has been a lot lately, but I know these excuses are not enough to make up for my actions.”
You’re mad and hurt, but you love him and would never want to give up on him, so you wrap your arms around his middle and hold him almost as tight as he holds you, burying your wet face in his chest. 
“I love you more than anything, YN.” He pulls away from you only to cup your face and make you look at him. His long fingers wipe away the tears with gentle touch, soothing your stinging skin instantly. “You could never be too much for me. I want all of you. I promise I’ll do better. I’ll love you better.”
And when you’re looking up at him with these shiny eyes of yours, he closes the distance and presses a loving kiss to your swollen lips, hoping to take at least some of the pain away. He doesn’t think he can hold you any tighter. He can’t love you any stronger than right now, and it messes with his head how easily he could’ve had it all ruined only minutes ago. 
He’ll never take your love for granted ever again. Because if he did, he’d never be able to pick up the parts of whatever was left of him, and put himself back together ever again. 
You can feel his warm hand opening your closed palm before he takes the ring you've been clutching so tightly and holds it in between his fingers. 
“Can I put it back on, baby? Please.”
You nod wordlessly while you try to tame your tears. You hold your slightly trembling hand up to him. He takes it, gently, and watches as your bottom lip wobbles while he slides the ring on your finger just like he did months ago. 
“I'll never screw up like that again. You have my word for it.”
You sniffle quietly when he kisses you right on the cool band adorning your skin. “You better not, Park Sunghoon.”
His long fingers caress your cheek, wiping the remains of the tears away. “Can you forgive me, darling?”
You don't need to think long of an answer. “You know I can never stay mad at you. Even if you're a idiot, I'll never stop loving you. You have my whole heart, Hoon. Please, don't ever make me regret trusting you with it.”
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swordgrace · 7 months ago
Text
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒.
༆ jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader.
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SYNOPSIS: as lady-in-waiting to rhaenyra targaryen, you find that her eldest son, jacaerys, is the only true friend and comfort you have amidst a brewing war that threatens to tear the realm apart.
note: jacaerys is nineteen, reader is eighteen.
༆ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.
༆ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.
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{ FORMAT: one shot — requested.
{ WORD COUNT: 11.5K (this is a long one, not sorry!)
{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), friends to lovers, inexperience from both reader & jace, loss of virginity (mutual), first time sexual experiences, sexual tension, p in v sex (unprotected), missionary position, lots of kissing and sweeter antics, slight risk of getting caught, oral sex (fem!receiving), handjob, fingering, hair pulling kink, brief overstimulation, tiddy sucking, this whole thing is soft & sweet smut, nothing disgusting here, jacaerys is the epitome of a perfect lover :))
{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am lowkey transitioning into becoming a Jace girl, I absolutely love him and I’m really enjoying where his character is going! This was a request from an anon user who wanted something freeform! I hope you all enjoy it, thanks so much for all of the recent love & support for my work! It makes me so happy! ❤️
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𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒, harkened in from the gentle roll of the tides. Saltwater and dampened rock filled your nostrils, aided by the fluttering breeze as it danced across the obsidian cliffs of Dragonstone.
The castle stood the testament of time, a monolith to the rule of the Targaryens. It loomed overhead, less frightening in the lighter hours, blanketed by glittering rays of sunlight. A cloudless day — good for sailing, you thought, as vessels ushered in goods to the shoddy harbor below.
Beneath the vibrancy of a cloudless sky, you could see the shadow of a dragon soaring overhead — the Princess Rhaenys, from the horned shape above. You cupped your hand around your eyes, squinting to see, constantly mesmerized by such creatures.
In your fantastical dreams, you flew upon the back of a dragon, letting the wind scrape across your visage, feeling the weight of something so powerful beneath you. Of course, you were neither Targaryen nor Velaryon — possessing a dragon wouldn’t be in the cards for you, and perhaps that was a good thing.
As much as you enjoyed the beauty of Dragonstone, you much preferred the outdoors. The weather was splendid, and you took small victories wherever possible. With war on the horizon between your Queen Rhaenyra and her usurper brother, any chance at happiness was worth chasing after and holding onto, while you could.
House Celtigar had bent the knee to Rhaenyra, and your father sat at her council. You were made to be a lady-in-waiting, much your initial disdain. The station you held would’ve been considered a great honor to most young women, but you were inclined to be out in the ocean or on the back of a horse.
Now, you found enjoyment in it, wherever you could.
Oceanic air filled your lungs in a singular inhale, tinged with a saltwater sting. You stood near one of the many stone terraces lining the lengthy walkway to the castle’s entrance, accompanied by Joffrey. The boy had become your greatest joy amidst the brewing chaos, and you were rather grateful for it.
“Would you like to see the ocean, little Prince?” You held the boy’s hand, stooping down to wrap your arms beneath him, standing him up along the cobbled bannister. Joffrey’s laughter could brighten a whole room, and it did — it certainly lifted your spirits.
“When will I be able to ride a dragon?” He questioned, pointing towards the shape of Meleys in the sky. Joffrey was rather inquisitive — a sharp mind, one that would become a great leader someday.
You were unsure of how to answer such a question. Tyraxes was young and still small, just like Joffrey. “Whenever you grow up,” You hummed, a smile playing at either corner of your mouth. “You must be as tall as your brother, first.”
Joffrey toyed with the wooden dragon clutched between his hands, gaze falling toward the ground. “Luke wasn’t much taller.” He mumbled, and it nearly crushed your heart completely to hear the confusion and despair in a child’s voice.
Youth knew more than most, and in the mind of a child, something heinous could appear innocent, or something tragic was beyond their comprehension. Joffrey knew that Luke was gone — he wasn’t coming back. Silence drifted between the both of you, and you found it difficult to change the subject from Lucerys to something lighthearted.
“I miss him.” Joffrey’s sweet voice rang out like the pealing of bells, crystal-clear and downtrodden. You turned him around within your grasp, keeping your hands slotted underneath his arms to ground him. His eyes swam with unshed tears, prompting you to bring him into your embrace.
“It’s alright, my Prince. He’s still here,” You whispered, hugging the boy as tightly as you could. It was enough to rip at your heartstrings, tear you asunder as melancholy began to eat you alive. The fate of Lucerys was a tragic one — unfair and unwarranted, and now, a catalyst for destruction between kin. “We will remember him.”
From afar, Jacaerys observed you and his brother, standing along the ramparts with a palm atop the pommel of his shortsword. The emotional turmoil he continued to feel in regards to Lucerys happened to swell the moment he saw Joffrey clinging onto you — and he knew.
Wisps of a tempered breeze stirred his curled tresses, drifting across his regalia as it caught against his cloak. After the death of his brother, he had come out to the ramparts nearly every night, to sob and to curse the world, to pray to any God that would listen — return Lucerys, bring him home. He had lost count, and in turn, lost a bit of faith.
Remaining optimistic in the face of unavoidable danger was a difficult thing — fear had gripped him once, but no longer. He knew that the only time a man could be brave was in situations like these, where terror stared him in the face and dared him to submit.
Many still referred to him as a mere boy, with little experience and no real understanding of the world and its cruelty. Jacaerys had shed the raiment of boyhood the night he flew blindly into the darkness in the name of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.
With the man born, he knew that whatever would come next, he was prepared to face such challenges head-on. Brazenness was not in his nature, but he had learned to adopt stoicism when it mattered most. It was easy to shed the facade around his family, and around you.
His friendship with you was a calm within the storm, a lull in the tempestuous hurricane you were all trapped within. You now had as much stake in this game as he did — your father served on Rhaenyra’s council with Celtigar bannerman pledging to fight in the war to come, and you served as his mother’s lady-in-waiting.
Your blossoming bond was a great comfort, and the tender way in which you cared for Joffrey was a wonderful thing. You had a soft heart — a good heart, and that was something rare to come by. The two of you were both of a similar feather, and the admiration he held for you only seemed to grow stronger each day.
The word friendship often tormented him, on days where you wore beautiful gowns and stood beside his mother, or whenever you smiled. It tormented him when you held Joffrey within your arms and protected him just as fiercely as Rhaenyra would.
Honor demanded that he simply remain just that — a friend, but Jacaerys found himself smitten with you in a way that transcended propriety. To cross that line, especially with you, invited the disdain of his mother and the ire of your father, amongst other things.
Betrothal would be upon him soon enough, likely with a young maiden from the Vale or the Reach to secure an alliance, but it left a sour taste within his mouth. He had little desire to be with anyone else when you were right there.
Jacaerys steeled himself, abandoning his whimsical line of thinking in regards to you. It was a fool’s errand, and he couldn’t afford to be a fool. He stepped closer, the crunch of stone resonating underneath his boots as he approached you and Joffrey.
“My Lady,” Jacaerys’s tone was amiable, like the comforting lick of a warm hearth. His gaze flickered toward Joffrey, bemused with his brother’s antics as you balanced him along the bannister. “What are you doing up there?” He asked, playful in the presence of his little brother.
“Flying,” Joffrey’s head lifted from your shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. You happened to carry him in such a way that he called it flying — and he was asking you to do it again. “Flying!”
With a giggle, you picked the boy up, swinging him up enough to let him get some air. His melancholy turned to jovial laughter as you soared him over to Jacaerys, who was more than happy to pick him up. Joffrey clung to Jace, hugging his brother with all of his strength.
“You are getting too big to fly,” Jace mused, holding Joffrey in one arm as he motioned for you to accompany him. His tousled curls and amicable smile sent your heart fluttering as it had many times before. It wasn’t subtle, your liking of Jacaerys, but you understood the nature of your affections. “Big enough for Tyraxes, soon.”
Jacaerys was perfect, with all of the hallmarks of what a true King should be. He was gentle and eloquent, honed with a blade, learned — and above all, he was kind. The rage that plagued him now was justified, and it pained you to see him become coiled with anger, but you understood why.
As Joffrey regaled the two of you with tales of childlike wonder, soaring his toy dragon around Jace’s head, Jacaerys seemed inclined to converse with you regardless. “I always know where to look, whenever I need to see you.” He mused, walking alongside you as you made your way up the ramparts.
“Is that so?” You chuckled, head canting to one side. “What did you need to see me for, your Grace?” It was a force of habit — he was the heir to the Iron Throne, after all. Jacaerys regarded you with a brief laugh, knowing that formalities were often abandoned whenever the two of you were together.
“Do I need a reason?” Jacaerys mused, voice light and inviting. The crash of the tide upon the beach provided a rather serene ambience, accompanied by the calling of gulls as they circled the bay.
You shook your head, skirts gathered in one hand as you narrowly avoided an upturned plate of stone. “Of course not,” You hesitated, gaze sparkling as your nose wrinkled in mild amusement. “Jacaerys.” You ensured to exaggerate his name, allowing for your conversation to become personal.
At the end of the ramparts, a flock of crimson-clad handmaidens awaited your return. It was likely that they were waiting for you to hand Joffrey over, much to your dismay. The black-headed boy looked to you as you neared the end of your walk.
“I don’t want to go,” He protested, reaching for you as you stepped forward, taking a hold of his hand. “When can we fly again?” Joffrey asked, lower lip jutting out in a rather innocuous pout. He leaned forward, partially out of Jace’s grasp to give you a hug.
“Tomorrow, my Prince. I will let you fly as much as you’d like.” You assured him, reciprocating his hug with one of your own, with all of the warmth one could muster. It was motherly in-nature, and you watched as Jacaerys planted him onto solid ground.
Joffrey took the outstretched hand of a handmaiden, glancing back at you and Jacaerys before they disappeared behind the castle’s massive gates. It always hurt you to leave him, but you knew that tomorrow would come swiftly. A begrudging sigh escaped you before you looked at Jacaerys, countenance somber.
Jace knew what you were about to say — something about Lucerys. The gaping wound left within his heart was barely healed, still oozing with pain, but he was making every effort to mend it. You helped — your resolute reassurance and shoulder to lean on, but sometimes, it wasn’t enough.
Instead, you reached for Jace’s forearm, giving it a brief squeeze of comfort. Whatever sentiments he held, you seemed to echo it, leaving it all unspoken. You and Jacaerys had already spoken about it all at-length — sometimes, he had little desire to tear himself open again.
His head hung low, heap of dark curls billowing in the wind. Jacaerys’s jaw tightened for a brief moment, and he imagined plunging his sword into Aemond Targaryen’s other eye — and then it passed, just as quickly as it had appeared.
A forlorn silence settled between the both of you, one that was born out of mutual understanding and empathy. Jace went quiet often, and you were content to sit in it for as long as he pleased. Instead, you stepped toward the bannister, palms planting themselves atop the stone as you gazed out toward the land surrounding Dragonstone.
“You are good with him,” Jacaerys broke the silence, deliberately stepping towards you as he stood by your side. Joffrey and his half-brothers, Aegon and Viserys, were all he had left. He would die for them if he had to. “He talks about you often.”
An exuberant smile crept onto your features, one of a sweet fondness in regards to Joffrey. “He is a sweet boy — very sharp-witted, though. I would imagine he will grow to be very wise.” You replied, idly tracing your fingers around some of the rocks socketed into the bannister.
“I remember the day he was born,” Jacaerys recalled, remembering the day that his mother, pale skin glistening with sweat, had wobbled into the drawing room, a newborn Joffrey in her arms. “It was a beautiful day, and Ser Harwin was there, and Ser Laenor …” He trailed off, recalling the way that Lucerys had begged to hold his younger brother.
The topic of both Laenor and Harwin were bitter ones — both men playing the role of father. Jacaerys loved them both, as any son would. Another gust of saltwater mist brushed along the ramparts, dusting your cheeks with wisps of moist air.
Wordlessly, you reached for Jace’s arm, looping yours around him as you let him lean against you for support. As much as Jacaerys insisted that he would recover and move on, you ensured him that grieving took time — it came in many shapes and forms.
Jace’s smile was wistful and threadbare, made sorrowful by memories of Lucerys. He didn’t want to sully the moment with his melancholy, holding his head high as he glanced toward you. You were not looking, but it allowed him a moment of appreciation and admiration.
Your beauty was unparalleled, your features delicate and smile like the warmth of a summer sunshine. The way in which you carried yourself was of a kindly disposition, made to be nurturing and helpful instead of imposing. Admittedly, you took his breath away — the feeling was a constant one.
Sunlight sparkled across your countenance, gaze soothing and full of empathy. The way in which you grasped his arm, kept yourself tucked away within his side, it invoked feelings of protectiveness — and newfound affection.
A dragon’s shrill cry reverberated throughout the skies, prompting Jacaerys to immediately look ahead. It was the familiar shriek of Vermax, his bonded dragon, who had grown exponentially. He was larger than Moondancer, with olive-colored scales and orange fins, eyes the color of a burnished gold.
“Māzigon, Vermax!” Jacaerys called, gaining the attention of his dragon as it began to approach, causing your heart to gallop within your chest. He looked at you with a hint of amusement, head canting to one side. “Would you like to see him?” Jace inquired, moving along the wall.
As majestic as dragons were, the wonder within your eyes had quickly shifted to wariness as it landed along the ramparts, rocks scraping underneath its talons. Vermax was much larger when in close proximity than he was flying overhead. “He is wonderful, Jace. Though, it is best if I keep my distance. He might not like me.”
Jacaerys laughed, amber-brown eyes sparkling with mirth. “Might not like you?” He mused, knowing that such a thought was outlandish. If he liked you, then Vermax most certainly would. A dragon could always pick apart friend from foe, and you were as far from an enemy as one could be.
“Yes, what — Jacaerys, that is a perfectly reasonable thing to say,” You countered, flustered by Jace’s reaction to your skepticism. His smile was cheery and heartfelt as he stared at you, and then offered his hand. “I do not think that this is a good idea.” A soft utterance emerged from under your breath.
“Trust me.” His tone softened exponentially, shifting from playful to gentle, reassuring. You hesitated before taking a hold of his hand, and Jacaerys nearly brushed his thumb across your knuckles out of sheer instinct. Whatever thoughts he had, he pushed them to the far recesses of his mind.
You trusted Jacaerys more than most, prompting you to nod as he ushered you closer to Vermax. His grasp was tender, as to not frighten you, which only made your heart flutter with affection. The dragon bristled and made a series of noises, some more serpentine than others.
Vermax lowered his head, pushing closer towards his rider as the dragon bowed to Jacaerys. You were close enough to feel the waves of heat wafting from his breath, close enough to outstretch your arm and feel his scales beneath your palm.
The scent of brimstone and dragonscale lingered upon Vermax, like a crackling fire and smoke. You watched with bated breath as Jace’s palm moved to Vermax’s snout, digits tracing along the olive-hued scales, and down toward his jaw. “Sagon iēdrosa,” Jace murmured, stepping closer to his dragon. “Sȳz.”
High Valyrian was an exquisite language, a beautiful symphony from an ancient era. Jacaerys had become proficient in such a tongue, and the way he spoke it had you mesmerized. With a gentle smile, he still held your hand, gesturing toward Vermax.
“What are you saying to him?” You inquired, losing some of your fear. It gradually waned the closer Jacaerys had inched you toward the dragon, who showed no ill will towards you at all. Instead, Vermax’s burnished hues glimmered with intrigue — you were a familiar scent, emblazoned upon Jace, but not a familiar face.
“I told him to be still for you,” Jacaerys replied, fingers flexing around your own as he carefully guided you toward Vermax’s neck, where the scales began to flare and thicken. Olive turned to emerald in some places, verdant shades clashing together. “Place your hand here.”
Your breath hitched within your throat as Jace became in close proximity to you, closer than he’d been before. His grasp was a tender one, placing your palm atop the dragon’s throat. Warmth crept along the length of your spine, filling your belly with an eruption of butterflies.
You made the mistake of glancing at Jacaerys for the briefest moment, able to spot the rosy flush of color within his visage and the gleam within his stare. As soon as you’d made contact, he happened to glance away, making a soft noise as it stirred within his throat.
Vermax chortled, the dragon’s attention fixated upon you as you brushed your fingers across his scales. Jace had dropped your hand, realizing the sliver of space between you both as he stepped aside, content to observe you with his dragon.
It was your enchanting laughter that lifted his spirits, the gentle way in which you stroked across Vermax’s neck and shoulder. “He is beautiful,” You hummed, countenance bright with a joyous radiance as you looked at Jacaerys once more. The gap between you had grown, much to your dismay. “How do you say that in High Valyrian?”
Jace hesitated, lips parting just slightly. His heart nearly skipped a beat when you smiled at him, expectant and awaiting his answer. He became so easily distracted in your presence, and it was somewhat vexing to behold. “Gevie,” He replied, briefly clearing his throat. “Gevie means beautiful, in High Valyrian.”
With a soft hum, you looked to Vermax, your grin toothy and amused. “Gevie, Vermax.” You spoke clearly, but the dragon did not seem to understand what you said — it wasn’t a command. Instead, he let out a series of reptilian noises, nostrils flaring with snort, almost like that of a horse.
Vermax’s lack of reaction made you frown, but Jacaerys appeared amused by it, at least. “Gevie isn’t a command,” He mused, head canting to one side. “Your High Valyrian needs improvement.” His tone was jocular, teasing — it made your heart stir within your chest.
“Fortunately, I have the perfect teacher standing before me.” You countered with a giggle, noticing the way in which a shade of pink settled into his features. Jacaerys was beautiful and handsome, but his flustered behavior only made him more perfect to you.
The dragon shook its head, seeking the embrace of his rider before he began to take flight. A massive gust of wind from the flap of his wings nearly knocked you down, causing you to crouch and grip the stone of the ramparts.
Jacaerys smiled, watching as Vermax ascended, taking to the skies above Dragonstone once more. You watched with a semblance of awe, slowly rising to your feet as the dragon became a mere specter amidst the cloudless sky. He did not stray too far, circling around with the likes of Moondancer and Syrax.
“Someday, I will take you flying with me,” Jace suggested, nose wrinkling slightly at your bewildered expression. “I would keep you safe.” He reassured you before words could emerge from your mouth, his chuckle amicable as he led you back toward the gates of Dragonstone.
“I trust you, but flying?” To see the world from such great heights sounded wonderful, but you feared the fall — and you feared the unknown of it all even more. “That might take more convincing than this did.” You mused, walking alongside him as the gates became closer.
A huff escaped him, hand dropping from the pommel of his shortsword to his side, a symbol of letting his guard down. A comfortable silence settled between the both of you, occasionally accompanied by a brief bout of laughter or tender smiles.
As the gates loomed over the both of you, Jacaerys hesitated, deliberating on what to say next. There were so many things he wanted to say to you — where did he begin? The nerves of first affection grabbed hold of him, but he remained resistant, wanting nothing more than to tell you how much you meant to him.
“Perhaps an exchange is in-order,” Jacaerys began, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. “You come flying with me, and I will teach you High Valyrian.” He mused, smothering his grin at your expression. You were clearly wary and unimpressed.
“Danger for something that I could learn in the comfort of a book? I think not, your Grace.” With a grin of your own, Jace happened to snicker, his visage invoking an unspoken challenge, albeit playful. “If I am ever feeling bold and spontaneous, I will inform you as soon as possible.”
Jacaerys hummed, head ducking for just a moment before he met your gaze again, doting and overflowing with a subtle warmth. “Thank you for this,” He began, tone heartfelt and genuine. “I would not know what to do if it weren’t for your company and comfort. I’ve found it difficult to remain jovial as of late, but it’s rather effortless in your presence.”
His genial compliments made your stomach turn with excitement, and you could soar away. Jacaerys would be an excellent ruler, should he take the Iron Throne — such grace, compassion, and gallantry were true hallmarks of what would make a good King. You felt the familiar, smitten flush dance along your skin.
“Of course, Jace — you never have to ask for it,” Your fingers twisted into the silk of your gown, an outlet for your growing nerves. “You’ve no idea how much your company means to me. We will get through this together, that much I know.” With a brief nod, you felt his stare grow in intensity.
Before he could bear his heart to you on a whim, the gates opened, revealing several Targaryen bannermen and Kingsguard. It was sudden and somewhat jarring, placing the two of you back within reality — in a realm on the brink of war.
“I should return to your mother, I fear I’ve neglected my duties enough today,” You murmured, offering Jace a kindly smile before dropping to curtsy. He seemed starstruck, as if caught within the depths of his own thoughts. “Good afternoon, your Grace.”
Formalities reappeared again, much to his disdain. He loved it when you called him Jace or Jacaerys, or your Grace whenever you teased him. To hear it used in the context of nobility made him feel distant, but he understood. You possessed a strong sense of propriety.
“My Lady.” Jace replied, watching as you took your leave to rejoin the other handmaidens and guardsmen. Jacaerys cursed himself for not making the most of the moment, but he knew that he could make his own opportunity, forge it if it never came about.
He intended to do just that.
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𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋, with braziers dancing across the obsidian interior. Stars sparkled above a clear night sky, dragons dancing above. It was almost like something from a fairytale or a painting, mesmerizing to behold as you gazed up at the scaling ceiling of your bedchambers.
Your quarters were small and homely, befitting of your status as lady-in-waiting. Rhaenyra had ensured that your lodgings and that of your father were enough — more than suitable, really. The feathered mattress you slept upon was made for royalty, you thought.
The constant flicker of candlelight provided a source of warmth as you rolled over within your bed, blankets hauled up beneath your chin. It was too early to fall asleep, too late to do anything of substance.
A knock at your door gave you pause, brows furrowing together as you retrieved your robe, lacing it around the sheer gossamer of your nightgown. Bare feet traveled across the cold stone, until you reached the metal hoop slotted atop mahogany.
With a pull, you opened the door, surprised to find Jacaerys, who had abandoned his traditional Targaryen regalia, hands occupied with a stack of various tomes and scrolls. His mop of dark curls framed his face, and even he seemed just as bewildered as you were.
“Jacaerys,” His nightly visits were rather uncommon — in fact, this was only the second time he’d come, the first following Lucerys’s passing. You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, stepping aside to allow him inside of your chambers. “Is everything alright?”
Jace placed the stack of books atop the table that sat amongst small lounge chairs, ensuring to clear his throat before he spoke. “Of course,” He replied, gesturing toward your newfound reading material. “I’ve brought you scripts to learn High Valyrian.”
You blinked, touched by such a thoughtful gesture. You smoothed your palms across your robe, stepping forward to inspect the books, many of which appeared ancient and weathered. “You didn’t have to,” You replied, head canting to one side. “Many of these seem important. Are you sure that no one will miss these?”
A brief chuckle escaped him before he shook his head. “The Maesters might, but they’ve read them a hundred times over, I’m certain of it. You will find more use.” He replied, retreating toward the threshold of your chambers. Jacaerys wanted to keep his visit brief — visiting a young woman’s quarters in the dead of night was not exactly an intelligent move.
“You’re leaving so soon?” Your inquiry held a twinge of disappointment, hoping that he would stay and converse with you, at the very least. “Jacaerys, I assure you that no one will admonish you if you stay for a few minutes longer.” The softness of your voice enticed him, and he very nearly confessed then and there.
The weight of growing sentiments felt as if they would swallow him whole if he did not speak them into fruition. With the threat of a looming war and the potential for oblivion, Jacaerys was unsure of what gave him pause. The fear of rejection, perhaps? That wasn’t it.
It took a moment for you to adjust, and when you did, you noted his own attire — a billowy tunic and dark trousers that happened to make him appear softer in the candlelight. The sharp black and crimson of his house’s colors made him intimidating and poised, but no longer.
You saw Jacaerys himself, doe-eyed and magnificent.
“I fear what will happen if I stay,” Jacaerys confessed, squaring himself with the door. If he continued to linger in your chambers without restraint or without additional eyes, he knew what would happen — he did not want to sully your honor. “I won’t.”
“Jacaerys,” You whispered, brows furrowing together to form a look of confusion and startlement. Out of concern, you stepped closer, abandoning the scripts of High Valyrian now scattered across your table. “What’s wrong? I don’t understand.”
The inner war he waged within seemed to reflect upon his countenance, as Jacaerys exhaled — it was laced with stress, a heaviness that you struggled to understand. He seemed flustered, not wanting to meet your amiable gaze. “It is best if I leave it alone.” He replied, taking a hold of your hands. “I would not tarnish your honor.”
That is what he meant.
Something boiled over inside of you, the butterflies and blossoming affection turning into a tidal wave that threatened to swallow you whole. As Jace held your hands, he seemed desperate to convey such a message — whatever he wanted, he could not have.
A brief exhale escaped you before you steeled yourself, thumbs brushing across his knuckles, over the veins of his hands. “You wouldn’t tarnish it,” You whispered, stomach churning with molten heat. “I know that you wouldn’t, Jace. I trust you the most.”
Jacaerys felt the stirring within his chest, the first inkling of arousal settling into his very bones. It was somewhat foreign — a new feeling, but exciting and exhilarating. “I would never hurt you,” He insisted, and you believed him wholeheartedly. “What I feel for you, I do not wish to feel this way with anyone else.”
If you could’ve collapsed then and there, you would’ve — you thought it would happen, with the way your knees rattled together beneath your nightgown. The beating of your heart accelerated into a violent crescendo, and then you felt the rush — the love you had for him, desire, admiration, neediness.
A tenuous silence drifted between you both, the tension thick enough to be sliced with a blade. Jacaerys had inched closer without thinking, able to peer down into your eyes, swirling with affection and bewilderment. “If I told you I felt the same?” Your voice barely rose above a whisper.
Deliberately, Jacaerys released one of your hands, allowing his palm to fully envelop your face, the pad of his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “I would never difile your virtue, or take it for granted. You must tell me if this is something you want.” He insisted, jaw tightening as he anxiously awaited your answer.
You knew that he wouldn’t — Jacaerys Velaryon was the most honorable man you knew, one that would never lay a finger upon you unless you consented. You couldn’t imagine a return to friendship if you happened to reject him — you didn’t want to reject him, either.
“I do,” A shudder ran down your spine, bringing a wave of thrill and anticipation with it. “I want this — and I want you, Jacaerys, if you’ll have me.” Part of you became nervous, knowing that you had never bedded a man before, but you pushed the thought aside.
“A hundred times over.” Jace uttered, dipping down to press his lips against yours. The kiss was incredibly sweet and delicate, something brief to test the waters as the two of you began to explore uncharted territory. Your hands reached for his chest, flat atop his sternum.
Allowing the kiss to linger, you tilted your head just slightly, enough to permit a sensual progression. He kissed you so sweetly, treated you as if you were precious, something to be worshiped. When he inevitably pulled away, you felt a twinge of nervousness.
“I’ve never done anything like this before,” Your confession was a strenuous one, and you hoped that he wouldn’t be disappointed by your lack of experience. Most men already had a plethora by the time betrothals and first love emerged. “Is that alright?”
“Of course,” Jacaerys reassured you with a gentle squeeze, brows furrowing together with insistence. He hesitated, somewhat sheepish to admit the very same, but he knew you wouldn’t admonish him for it. “I haven’t either, if that’s alright.” He mused, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.
A sweet bout of laughter escaped you before you nodded several times over, unable to keep from withholding your happiness. “I suppose that this will be quite the learning experience.” You felt his thumb stroke along your jaw, his lips molding themselves to yours in another kiss.
Passion and tension began to mount, a continuous climb of affection, prepared to turn into something fiery. Jacaerys worried that he would disappoint you, or perhaps feel clumsy and awkward, but those were mere insecurities — he knew that you wouldn’t hold it against him.
One of his hands dropped, finding the pliant curve of your hip as he sank his digits into you, able to haul you closer, until there was no space left between the two of you. Kissing felt effortless with Jace, despite your inexperience — he was gentle and deliberate, ensuring that he took his time with you above all else.
Your fingers wandered from his chest to his broad shoulders, finding the curls of hair at the nape of his neck. Jacaerys exhaled, a shiver rolling down his spine as you began to gently tug at his tresses. He canted his head slightly, enough to deepen the kiss and hold you close.
It was Jace who slowly broke the kiss, but just enough to speak, warm breath fanning across your face. “May I take you to bed?” He murmured, tracing across the silky plane of your jaw. His excitement began to grow, heart hammering within his chest.
In such close quarters to one another, you noticed the faint dusting of freckles along the bridge of his nose, spreading just underneath his eyes. You pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “You may.” Eagerness replaced any nervousness you were experiencing, then and there.
Jacaerys found your hand, twining his digits with your own as the two of you inched toward your bed. It was plush, lined with furs and enough blankets to warm the Seven Kingdoms. He stood at the precipice of a cliff, preparing to dive headfirst — and it felt incredible.
He watched with bated breath, rapturous and enamored as your digits settled along the many ties of your outer robes. You began the sluggish process of untethering each one until the garment loosened, enough for you to shrug it aside and drape it over the chest at the foot of your bed.
Even with the veil of sheer, silky fabric, Jacaerys quietly admired your physique, shapely and beautiful in every way imaginable. “You are perfect,” Jace uttered, hands coming to settle around your hips, searching for any sign of hesitation on your end. “Beautiful.” He exhaled, feeling you coax him in for another kiss.
Through the slip of silk and gossamer, Jacaerys deftly felt his way along your body, taking his time savoring you. Every curve and dip, every little detail he committed to memory, lost within a sea of you. Your kiss became passionate, and he was more than happy to reciprocate, the intensity burning between you both.
Jace felt your fingers tease the hem of his tunic, enough to elicit a subtle gasp from him. The sensation of your flesh against his caused goosebumps to spread from where your digits brushed against his waist. He released you for a moment, long enough for him to assist you in removing his nightshirt.
A pang of admiration struck at your stomach, breath hitching within your throat. He was pretty — well-muscled for a young man, with sunkissed skin, smatterings of freckles along his shoulders. Jacaerys felt your lips press against the hollow of his throat, warmth fanning out from the simple contact.
“I want to take care of you, if you’ll let me.” Jace murmured, insistent on pleasuring you above all else. He knew very little of what ensued between a woman and a man within the confines of their bedchambers outside of the simple act itself, but it was easy to imagine.
Your lips parted, heat sinking into your bones as you reached for his curled tresses, digits slipping through his soft, dark locks. “Yes”, Your voice was barely above a whisper as you coaxed him in for another kiss, one charged with arousal and desire. “I want you, Jace.”
The heady, wanton way in which you spoke his name caused him to shiver, bare chest pressed snugly against your own. Even the veil of silken fabric could not hide your supple frame from him, the peaks of your breasts soft and pliant.
His kiss was so gentle — it was charged with lust despite its tame nature, not that you minded. You felt his hands fall to your hips, melding into your curves before he began to gather the fabric within his hands. Jacaerys looked to you before continuing, and you gave him a nod to signal your approval.
Silky gossamer slowly crawled up the length of your legs as Jace gathered your gown, sliding it upward. You couldn’t fight against the onslaught of molten heat that churned violently within your stomach, shamelessly pooling between your legs.
Jacaerys hesitated, likely thinking of what to do next. He had been educated on what consummation was, the act of making an heir — but there was more to it, more of you to explore. Curiosity consumed him as he placed his palm atop the bare skin of your thigh, using the other to ease you down onto your bed.
He sat beside you, leg to leg as he continued to push your nightgown up toward your hips, skirts gathering around the middle of your thighs. “May I?” Jace’s voice seemed to grow husky with arousal, desire burning its way through his veins.
Instead, you gingerly took a hold of his hand, guiding it underneath your gown as you parted your legs enough to allow him unhindered access. He caressed you wherever he could, shuddering when you held the trail of your nightgown in one hand to push it up around your hips.
You nearly squeaked when his palm brushed along your inner thigh, lips parting with a sharp exhale. Jace moved closer, as close as he could as his mouth graced your neck, digits inching toward the slick heat between your legs. When he found it, you let out a simpering whine, reaching for his forearm.
A hushed moan escaped you as two digits trailed across your cunt, exploratory and feather-light. Your hips canted forward into the sensation, desiring more — and Jace obliged, pushing both fingers inward until they slipped past your folds.
“Jace,” You whispered, eyes fluttering shut as he continued to pepper strings of sweet kisses along your neck, gown sagging enough to let him kiss your shoulder. “Do not stop, please.” That breathy plea exuded some power over him, and he was enthralled, prepared to do whatever you asked of him.
“Is that alright?” Jacaerys asked, digits becoming a touch more vigorous as he stroked at your slit, surprised at how wet you were. If it were a common thing, he would know what to expect in the future. His thumb grazed your clit, and you gasped.
With a soft hum of approval, you nodded, shifting your legs apart just a little more. “Y—Yes,” Absentmindedly, your fingers slipped from the taut muscle of his forearm to his hand, the one wedged underneath your gown. “I — Like this.” You instructed him to touch you how you had touched yourself.
Jacaerys watched through a half-lidded stare, beyond entranced with you. You were beautiful — so painfully ethereal that it made him want to kneel before you, a goddess made to be worshiped. You adjusted his fingers, ensuring that his thumb pressed against your clit with continuous pressure.
Despite his nonexistent experience, he was doing wonders for you — he was attentive and willing to learn your body as you saw fit. He was so handsome, lips curling into an affectionate smile before he kissed your jaw, digits continuing from where they’d left off.
Your palm fell across his thigh, nails beginning to dig themselves into the muscle there as he touched your clit, digits tracing around the rest of your cunt. The candlelight highlighted his features in such perfect detail, the illumination slight.
Reverence seeped into each action, every stroke of his fingers evoking a string of whimpers from you. He was passionate and careful, willing to learn your body better than you. He continued to caress your clit, the sensation sending jolts of electricity throughout your body.
His name became your prayer, devolving into desperate moans and whispered pleas as you rocked your hips into the sensation of his hand. “Jacaerys,” You sighed with passion, feeling the stirring within your stomach. Arousal consumed every part of you, just as it did him. “Jace.”
The dark-haired Prince let out a soft groan into the hollow of your throat, wanting you more than anything, and the hand you had perched atop his thigh did little to ease the fever. He kissed your neck again, scarlet-faced and beyond eager, whispering sweet nothings in High Valyrian against your skin.
Excitement and the heat of the moment seemed to get to you, as you used one hand to sloppily unlace the leather ties of his trousers. You wanted to touch him too, let him feel exactly how you felt — how he made you feel.
Jace shivered, not objecting, but he wanted to focus on you above all else. “What about you?” He asked, feeling his cock twitch with want. The ache he had for you was almost painful, threatening to tear him apart if he couldn’t find relief.
“Together,” You suggested, turning enough to crawl into his lap, much to his delight. Jacaerys held you steady, lips clamoring together in a messy flurry of tongue and adoration. It was the anticipation of youth — the desire and sentiments overrode everything else, made duty disappear. “You are perfect.”
His brief smile made all of your worry dissipate, fading into mere background noise. Your hands returned to the leather ties of his breeches once more, sluggishly loosening them. Jace steeled himself, a fire burning within his belly as you reached down.
A low, satisfied groan tore past his lips when your hand gently wrapped around his cock, searching his visage for any sign of discomfort. There was none — only desire, lust festering within his gaze. He resumed touching you, digits circling your clit once more.
Within your delicate grasp, his length hardened, your palm finding a careful rhythm. Your hips twitched, rolling into the sensation of his hand. It was heavenly — the way in which he handled you was gallant and gentle. Arousal continued to gather between your thighs, a new and sticky feeling.
Intermingled gasps and groans filled the air, the both of you clinging to one another. Jacaerys leaned forward, mouth seeking yours, the kiss hot and gentle. Between your careful, uncertain strokes along his length and his digits teasing your cunt, the both of you were lost within the throes of passion.
He slipped his other hand underneath your nightgown, with enough leverage to remove it, if he so desired. Jacaerys broke the kiss long enough to ask, chest heaving with heavier breaths. “May I?” He whispered, voice husky and hoarse with lust.
You nodded, maneuvering your arms over your head as your nightgown slipped to the floor, leaving you bare before Jacaerys. The saltwater breeze which fluttered through your quarters left you shivering, both from the brief chill and anticipation.
The awestruck way in which he stared at you left you hot, body feverish beneath his tempered gaze. He kissed your collarbone, eyes warm and affectionate. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” He stated, nearly breathless. His heart was yours — every fiber of his being devoted itself to you.
Smitten beneath his sweetly-spoken compliments, you trailed your fingers throughout his soft curls. The other slyly descended to reach for his cock again, but Jacaerys seemed to place your hand aside. You seemed confused, head canting to one side. “Do you not like it?”
His bemused chuckle filled your chambers, amiable and as warm as a cozy hearth. “Of course I like it,” Jacaerys murmured, kissing along your jaw and neck, holding you as close as he could. “I’d like to focus on you. There’s something that I wanted to try, if you’ll allow it.”
Surprised, you seemed open to whatever he wanted to try. “Anything you want, you will have. It’s yours.” You expected him to put you on your knees or turn you on your stomach. Instead, he coaxed you down onto your back, getting you to lay down as he crawled between your parted legs.
His mouth pressed a string of affectionate kisses along your shoulder and collarbone, beginning to dip lower toward the perky swell of your breasts. You squirmed slightly, uncertain of where this would lead to. You trusted Jace to follow his own instinct.
Your back arched when his mouth graced your breast, pressing kisses all around the pliant flesh. A moan escaped you, signaling your pleasure as he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, gingerly suckling on the pebbled bud.
“Jace,” You squeaked, one hand flying to his mountain of dark curls, pushing your fingers through. He touched you in a way that evoked a sense of yearning, as if you were the only woman in the realm. His hand kneaded into your chest, a shiver coursing through him whenever you moaned his name. “Please.”
Heat simmered through him, a wave of desire that only seemed to grow in intensity, demanding to be extinguished. Your flesh tasted saccharine upon his tongue, but there was something else he wanted to taste. As he kissed your chest, he released his lips from your breast, continuing his descent.
He kissed you everywhere, reverence seeping into each brush of his mouth as he traversed your body. Jacaerys pressed his lips against your stomach, and then to your hips, palms sliding against your thighs.
A sharp exhale escaped you as he peppered a string of kisses along the inside of your thigh, showering you in little pecks of affection before he flattened himself entirely. You swallowed the lump within your throat; the sight of Jace’s face wedged in between your legs made you shiver, arousal following suit.
Everything was gentle, even the way in which his veined hands gripped the pliant flesh of your thighs to let them rest against his shoulders. He hesitated, allowing you a moment to adjust and steel yourself before he dipped forward, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt.
The singular, experimental stroke of his tongue caused you to shiver, hands curling into fists. If you could melt away into your furs, you would’ve, feeling his mouth press kisses against your core. “Jace,” You whined, attempting to hold still and cease your squirming. “Don’t stop.”
It was all the encouragement he truly needed, digits soothingly caressing along your thighs as he began to lap at your cunt, adopting a pace that was a little less sluggish. He nearly groaned when he felt your hand grasp at his curled tresses, sinking in toward the base of his skull.
In the nighttime gloom of Dragonstone, you found warmth and comfort in one another — affections intensified, and whatever bond you had before was now redefined entirely. Jacaerys loved you, he had never been more sure of himself until now, dutifully bringing about your pleasure.
A myriad of soft whimpers and whines escaped you, hand gingerly tugging on Jace’s hair as he buried his mouth in the apex of your thighs. His tongue vigorously lapped and traced over your core, savoring your taste, committing it to memory. Bathed in moonlight, Jace appeared more ethereal than ever, the muscles flexing within his back.
With slow, eager laps of his tongue, Jacaerys made sure to savor you, letting it flick across your clit. The short, dizzying gasp that tore past your mouth spurred him on, as he pressed another string of kisses against your slit. The continued sensation of your digits carding through his curls made him sigh with elation.
He brought you closer, heart leaping into his throat when you began to writhe beneath him, hips tilting forward into each stroke of his mouth. “You’re perfect,” Jacaerys whispered, ensuring that you could hear it. Soft utterances of High Valyrian were etched into the flesh of your thigh. “Perfect.”
Blossoming beneath his sweet compliments, your fingers curled against his scalp, unable to lay still as Jace resumed his previous ministrations. The warmth of his tongue left you with a blistering want, stomach churning with a wave of arousal.
As he lapped at your clit again, you whimpered, moaning his name as if to keep his attention there. Jacaerys’s tender expression also bore a great deal of concentration, dark eyes flickering toward you. “There?” He uttered, hoping that you would guide him to where he needed to be.
Your head bobbed up and down against the furs, flesh beginning to glisten with the first inklings of perspiration. Everything felt feverishly hot, as if you would be turned to ash where you sat. Jacaerys was attentive and loving, following your breathy plea as he pursed his lips around the pearl of your cunt.
Jace shivered at the sounds you made, enticed by each whimper and moan, every twitch of your body. He suckled on the sensitive bundle of nerves, alternating between that and greedy, vigorous laps of his tongue. He let himself be lost within bliss, arousal mounting from pleasuring you.
You reached for his hand, fingers interlocking atop the swell of your hip as he continued to lap at your aching core. He squeezed your hand as a sign of reassurance, buried deep within your sweet cunt, something that he wanted to have again and again.
He was at your mercy, the heir to the Iron Throne, the Prince of Dragonstone — and you hadn’t the slightest clue. Jace’s brow creased in concentration as he focused on what spots made you squirm the most, continuing to dutifully lap at your clit until your knees trembled.
“Jace,” A needy moan left you, reverberating within the obsidian confines of your chambers. Arousal rushed through you, molten heat oozing from between your thighs, a nectar as sweet as honey. “I—I think I’m close.” You groaned, unsure if it was just the throes of ecstasy or reality.
Nevertheless, you were on the verge of reaching your peak, and you didn’t want him to stop. Instead, you urged his head forward, fingers laced within his dark curls, right at the nape of his neck. Jacaerys groaned in delight, thoroughly enjoying the way you continued to coax him inward — he happily devoured every drop.
With another barrage of his tongue assaulting your cunt, you whimpered, turning malleable within Jace’s hands. He knew that you were on the verge, and so he pursed his lips around your clit once more, and that was more than enough.
His name emerged from your lips like a reverent prayer, the only name that you knew in that moment. Your release was hot, like a rush of fire that didn’t simmer immediately. The residual sensation lingered, and Jace helped you through it.
Your thighs twitched, absentmindedly attempting to clench together, but Jace held you apart, soothing you with kisses along your thighs. The blissful, contented expression that soon followed was a beautiful one — Jace was shocked to know that he could do that to you, bring you to ruin.
His gallant smile gave you pause as you studied the rosy flush within his features, the glistening sheen of your arousal upon his lips. Jacaerys seemed entirely unphased, basking in your aftermath all the same, his curls tousled and disheveled.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Your tone was sheepish, realizing how much you’d tugged at his hair. If it were you, a tender-headed maiden, you would’ve been batting his hand away. Jace’s bemused chuckle caused you to duck your head.
Jace disarmed you with a charming, doting smile and a simple look of those earthen-brown eyes of his, and shook his head. “You could never hurt me,” He replied, his attempt at gentle flirtation. “I worry more for you.” His confession was soft-spoken.
The act of consummation was not intended to be a comfortable one — for a woman, at least. Jacaerys knew to broach this with care, to make sure that you were well enough before all else. He inched forward from between your thighs, resting his head atop your stomach.
He allowed you a moment of composure, feeling your digits trace the lines of his countenance, stroke at his tresses. Jace pressed a string of kisses all around your body, wherever his lips could reach. The moment was incredibly tender, lingering with the tension of a blossoming ardor.
Through the comfortable haze of silence, you cleared your throat, staring down at Jacaerys with what only could be described at a look of complete and utter adoration. He was so kind, so noble and gentle, yet with the fervor of the dragon’s blood, a desire to do good. You felt so fortunate, even moreso when he smiled at you, pressing a kiss to your hip.
“I want you, Jacaerys,” You whispered, watching as Jace began to sit up, letting your legs trap him on either side. “More than I’ve ever wanted anyone else.” It was the hitch within his throat that made you shiver, heart hammering beneath your breast as you began to confess your feelings — it was inevitable.
Jace reveled at the sight of you, naked and glimmering within the moonlit dusk, candlelight bathing your physique in shades of flickering orange. His descent was slow as he covered you with his body, lips parting to allow a shaky exhale before he kissed your brow. “You have my heart,” He uttered, forehead resting against yours. “Everything I am, is yours.”
Your palms moved to cup either side of his face, thumbs caressing along his cheekbones before you smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I am yours.” You assured, your commitment resolute before the Gods — before Jacaerys Velaryon.
It was a poignant moment, one that seemed intermingled with the seriousness of your words, yet still tinged with the youthful excitement of a first love. He kissed you, slow and amorous, full of an unrestrained affection that no longer seemed weighed-down by unspoken sentiments.
“Are you certain that this is what you want?” Jace asked, his voice a soft caress through your haze of kisses. He would not fault you if you wanted to stop now — and he would if you wished it of him. As much as he desired you, he valued your virtue above his own.
“Yes,” You replied, your palms gliding from his soft visage to the taut muscle of his shoulders, lacing your fingers around the back of his neck. “Are you certain, too? I worry that you might regret lying with me.”
Jacaerys shook his head, brows furrowing together to reflect a semblance of disbelief. He reached down to caress your cheek, making sure that you understood every word. “Nothing in the world would ever make me regret this,” He murmured. “I’ve never been more certain about anything before.”
A brief stirring of adoration fluttered within your chest, and you knew that you wanted no one else ever again. You pulled yourself off of the mattress enough to kiss him, sinking into the sweet bliss of the moment as he reciprocated. His mouth moved in-tandem with yours, eyes beginning to flutter shut.
His hands planted themselves into the feathered pillow on either side of your head, but it didn’t last long. Jacaerys leaned back, maneuvering out of the leather of his trousers, flush against you once they were removed. You were so soft, like an ocean of silk beneath him.
He felt one of your legs hitch around his hips, bodies together beneath the furs. The chill of your chambers dissipated, replaced by the warmth of your skin. You kept your hands poised against his shoulders, dancing across the smattering of freckles there as you continued to kiss him, as if each one would be your last.
The hardened swell of his cock pressed against your lower stomach, and you could feel his breath grow heavier between kisses. He was perfect — flawless, so handsome that it made you ache with want.
Jace kissed you again and again, feeling the soft peaks of your breasts brush against his chest. He adjusted his weight, shifted his hips as he pressed the head of his length against your slick cunt. He was somewhat nervous — perhaps not as much as you, but anxious enough. He made sure to be careful, feeling your legs nudge themselves apart.
A look of mutual preparedness passed between you both, between your doe-eyed gaze of anticipation and Jace’s mounting look of want, there was little room left for uncertainty. He sat up enough to position himself against your aching core, his cock splitting past your folds before it prodded at your entrance.
You steeled yourself, and Jace made sure to be slow, afraid of hurting you enough to cause true discomfort. As he tilted forward, his length filled you, sheathing himself inside of you, inch by inch. Admittedly, it wasn’t a good feeling — not initially, anyway.
A sharp exhale escaped you as he bottomed out, staying still atop you as he allowed you time to grow accustomed to him. Waves of complete and utter bliss rolled through him, his own pleasure nearly overwhelming. You were tight, maidenhead intact for the next few moments until he began to move.
“Are you alright?” Jace whispered around the shell of your ear, pressing against you once more as he reassuringly kissed along the side of your face. He felt despicable for causing you any amount of pain, but you seemed to dismiss his concern.
“I am,” You placated him with a smile, coaxing him in for a kiss. It was best if you didn’t think about it — and with time, it would feel better. Everything was awkward and clumsy, the follies of youth, but as Jace began to move, a fire began to burn within your belly. “Jace.” You sighed, keeping your leg around his hips.
A soft groan resonated beside your ear as Jace adopted a sluggish rhythm, not wanting to intensify things so quickly. Your eyes fluttered shut, body content to bend to his thrusts, grow accustomed to the act itself. He reciprocated your kiss, black curls falling in front of his temples.
Bliss soon replaced discomfort, the more you allowed yourself to adjust. You shifted your legs further apart, one hand falling toward his bicep, the other remaining tangled at the nape of his neck. The sounds of your lovemaking soon filled your chambers, with your foreheads pressed together.
Your name fell from his tongue in a needy groan, and it made you shiver, body reacting with a barrage of gooseflesh along your spine. Perspiration grew upon his brow as he maintained his pace, digits curling into the furs on either side of you.
The sound of your pleasured moans made him feel better, a sign that you were no longer riddled with soreness and irritation. Jace pressed a trail of hot, messy kisses along your face, reaching to the sweet spot beneath your jaw. He kept himself anchored there, feeling your hand squeeze at his bicep.
“Jace!” You squeaked, flushed at the growing lewdness of the noises — the squelching, the passionate groans and heavy breathing. He was perfect, cock filling you in a way that left you completely satisfied. Jace felt your hand fall away from his bicep, reaching for his own, interlocked hands falling back against the cushions.
He shuddered, reveling in the way your cunt tightened around him, the sensation of your hand within his hair, hands joined at your side. Jace’s pace began to quicken, but only somewhat, enough to really feel the myriad of pleasure take hold.
You yearned for him in every way imaginable; your body ached with each movement, every thrust as he leisurely moved in and out of you. His cock pulsated with a dull throbbing, enough to fill his belly with a raging fire. He kissed you again, lips traversing wherever they saw fit, peppering every inch of your sweet skin.
Time seemed to move agonizingly slow in your presence — Jacaerys wouldn’t want it any other way. If he could capture this moment, he would’ve. Every moment was graced by a warm intimacy that sank into his very bones, his adoration for you furthered with each roll of his hips, sheathing himself inside of you.
His soft lips graced your collarbone, continuing to make love to you in the only way he knew how. It was passionate and gentle, in a way reserved for the deepest of lovers. Jace grunted when your hips involuntarily rolled upward to grind against him, lips parting as he squeezed your hand.
At last, he lifted his head, your eyes locking together. Your countenance was exceptionally beautiful, especially when painted with the shade of desire, and it had him aching with want. His jaw tensed when you brushed dark curls away from his eyes, palm lingering long enough to pull him down for a kiss.
His cock continued to hit your cunt with a tame fervor, filling you completely, testing your limits as he neared his peak. Jacaerys knew that there would be more moments like these in the future — his energy was waning, and perhaps, the unfamiliarity of it all contributed to this.
Your name spilled from his tongue, throat echoing with a soft groan as his pace became slightly erratic. It was difficult to control himself amidst chasing after his release, but he maintained what little composure he had, gritting his teeth together as he thrust into you again.
Pleasure contorted into ecstasy, becoming an unstoppable wave that was quick to take hold of him. Concentration intermingled with bliss were etched into his features, face pressing against yours, nearly breathless as you kissed him again.
With a groan, Jacaerys rocked forward again, spilling himself inside of you. In hindsight, it was both brazen and feckless, done in the heat of the moment, but he cared little of it for the time being. His cock throbbed, thrusting into you again a time or two before he stilled completely.
Heavy pants resonated between you both as you caught your breath, flush against one another in the aftermath. You pressed a kiss against Jace’s cheek, trailing your fingers throughout his hair. He was quick to kiss you, gathering his composure before he pulled himself out of you.
A rush of sticky warmth slathered the inside of your thighs, leaving behind a feeling of slight discomfort. Jace gathered a cloth for you to clean yourself with, returning to lay beside you as he rucked the furs up around your bodies. The air was colder at nightfall, injected with a saltwater mist.
“I apologize if I hurt you,” Jacaerys uttered, dark brows furrowing together as you wriggled closer, resting your head atop his bare chest. Your arm draped over him, allowing yourself to be close, a feeling that he wanted more than anything else. “It was not my intention.” He kissed the top of your head.
“You didn’t,” You replied, tracing soft patterns against his skin, angling your head up enough to kiss him. Jace cupped your jaw, leaning in to deepen the tender entanglement, lost within the bliss of your lips. “You would never hurt me.”
Jacaerys was fiercely protective over you, that much was true — even from himself. He kept an arm wrapped around you, cradling you at his side as he gazed into your eyes. He could see you, then — his beloved wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps it was too early to tell, but he knew.
As the both of you settled in together, your maidenhead now lost, you couldn’t help but smile. Jacaerys had made your first experience more than anyone ever could — you hoped that it would stay that way forever. “Does your offer of teaching High Valyrian still stand?” You mused.
A huff of amusement left Jacaerys as he turned his head enough to look at you, a smile playing at either corner of his mouth. “I thought you wanted those dusty old books.” Admittedly, his offering of those damned texts is what started this in the first place — he had to be grateful.
“I knew that you would be kind enough to bring them to me,” You confessed, nose wrinkling in amusement. “An excuse to see you.” The look on Jace’s face was one of theatrical shock, and you erupted into a fit of laughter when he squeezed your hip.
“You might grow tired of me, if I am to teach you High Valyrian.” Jacaerys mused, his smile one of complete and utter warmth. Anyone would know that his love for you was obvious — there wasn’t any subtlety about it.
You shook your head, comfortably sinking against him, your upper body lounging atop him. “I could never grow tired of you, Jacaerys Velaryon.” You exhaled, exhaustion beginning to grip you. It was bound to happen eventually, given the abnormally late hour.
Jace was thankful that you weren’t looking — his face was dusted with a rather obvious layer of pink, and yet, the feeling was beyond satisfying. The two of you allowed the silence to sink through, accompanied by the sound of the encroaching tide as it broke upon the jagged rock and cliff sides surrounding Dragonstone.
“Will you stay?” You asked, hoping that he would be agreeable to it. It was a risky proposition, but Jace knew that he couldn’t leave you after this — he didn’t want to, either. No one would come clamoring about within his chambers at first light.
“Of course,” He murmured, lips twitching into a sweet smile. “Though, I should go at the first light of dawn.” Jace’s tone was one of clear disappointment, but it was best to keep suspicions low. You knew that he had duties that transcended you — he was the Prince of Dragonstone, the heir — and you were not betrothed.
A sense of understanding settled onto your features, but you still wanted him by your side — you wished that you could wake up next to him. “I hope that dawn never comes, then.” You whispered, taking his hand within yours as you pressed a kiss against his palm, knowing that there would be many more dawns to come with him at your side.
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copyright @ swordgrace; please do not translate, steal, or copy my works and post them onto other platforms or claim as your own.
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whtepony · 4 months ago
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➻ mha boys + how they eat you out
ft. katsuki bakugo, eijiro kirishima, denki kaminari
warnings: 18+ content!! mdni!! reader has a vagina, use of “woman” in eiji’s, otherwise gn?
notes: i wrote this at 2am + it’s like i was possessed 😭 idk where it came from but i’ll do a pt two with sero, izuku, and maybe iida (?) if this does well
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katsuki likes to have you laid on your back with an arm wrapped around each of your legs so you can’t get away so he can grip onto your thighs nd keep them apart. you’d think he’d be impatient and messy with it but he’s soooooooo slow and it drives you insane. we all know katsuki is a little mean in bed but it’s only because he absolutely adores the way your body responds to him. he’s purposefully kissing all over your inner thighs and pressing the tip of his tongue against your clit through the thin fabric of your panties just to watch you squirm!! he’s absolutely the type to start licking you through your panties n will make you beg him to pull them to the side. and this man will edge you foreverrr, just when you think he’s gonna let you cum he’s slowing down or detaching his lips from you all together. “what’re you cryin’ for, huh? i can’t take my time with ya?”
eijiro is an EATERRRRR FR. a real woman lover. duh of course he loves fucking you but he could be completely satisfied if the only thing he was allowed to do was eat you out. he likes to have you sit on his face and will not hesitate to pull you down onto him if you’re shy. he’s an ass man (not as much as katsuki but pretty damn close) so his hands are always wandering, kneading the soft flesh of your thighs before moving up to grab at your ass. can and will stay between your thighs for hours if you’ll let him. his absolute favorite thing in the whole world is when you pull on his hair and grind against his face when you’re close, no matter what position he has you in. he seriously thinks you’re the most beautiful thing on the planet when you cum and will tell you so!! “look so pretty like this baby, you think you can do it again?”
denki likes having you on your back and will keep your knees pushed up towards your chest so that he can see all of you. this boy is MESSY. i’m talking spitting on your already soaked pussy and watching it coat your folds because he’s just mesmerized by how wet you can get. feels like he’s failed if his lips and chin aren’t covered in your slick when he’s done. when he eats you out it’s like he’s making out with your clit and he considers it a personal offense if you’re not tugging on his hair to pull him closer. he’s super vocal in general, but when you do he’s literally whining into you even though he swears up and down he doesn’t like having his hair pulled!! denki is the type to grind against the bed or couch or whatever he can (he’ll do this anywhere btw) because he just gets so worked up from making you feel good. he has definitely cum in his pants while eating you out before and will probably do it again! “i couldn’t help it, you just taste so good!”
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sttoru · 1 year ago
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your boyfriend sleeps on the couch after an argument you both had earlier that day. after calming your nerves and taking time for yourself, you realise that you might have been a bit too harsh on him.
☀︎|tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff / angst / hurt + comfort. age gap (reader early 20’s & satoru early 30’s). nicknames used; ‘(little) baby’. he’s honestly just the perfect combination of gentle and teasing. subtle mentions of size difference.
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satoru shifts on the couch whilst letting out an inaudible yawn. he was tired after an entire day at work and finally had the chance to settle down in the comfort of his apartment.
though, he couldn’t really relax just yet. the reason why being the undeniable tension hanging in the air. he was in fact home, but it didn’t feel like it. not when you were missing.
you had holed yourself up in the master bedroom after an earlier argument the two of you had. it wasn’t a big fight — just a little squabble between lovers. satoru didn’t rush after you when you had decided to walk away midst argument. you clearly weren’t in the right headspace to properly articulate nor communicate your feelings.
he figured that you just needed some time alone and thus decided to leave you be. he didn’t want to risk losing you by annoying you any further.
satoru scrolls on his phone out of boredom. the light radiating off the screen starts to bother his already sensitive eyes. with a sigh, he shuts off the device and puts it down on the coffee table.
it was dead silent in the apartment that was usually filled with your lively chatter. the sorcerer wants nothing more than to cuddle up with you under the covers and fall asleep. but, you needed space and he wasn’t going to disturb you.
he drapes an arm over his eyes and pulls the thin blanket over his chest. his breaths were steady and his thoughts were surprisingly calm. satoru almost drifts off to sleep, however his body lightly jolts awake once he hears the creaking of a door.
careful footsteps echo throughout the hallway and stop right at the doorstep of the living room.
satoru moves his arm to the side so his vision wouldn’t be obstructed. his eyes land on the figure standing at the doorframe — one he could recognise instantly.
it was you, standing there with your head held low and your fingers curled around the hem of your nightgown. you didn’t take another step forwards and just lingered in your spot for a few seconds without saying anything.
“hey, baby.” satoru breaks the silence. his voice was as soft as it could be, not an ounce of annoyance or frustration in it. even if he had all the reason to be upset according to you.
you remember just how childish you acted earlier; you had lost all rationality, shouted at your boyfriend out of frustration and ran off mid sentence instead of properly addressing the issue at hand. the way you handled that situation was wrong and immature.
in contrast to your immature behaviour, satoru had stayed calm and collected throughout the entirety of your argument. he hadn’t raised his voice at you even once nor did he blame you for anything. you felt bad for acting like a bratty kid who didn’t get her way.
you eventually move towards the couch, still not making eye contact with your boyfriend. he sits up and simply watches you with a raised eyebrow—curious as to what you were about to do.
you knew you had to apologise for your behaviour, but what you needed first was his validation. you wordlessly climb onto the couch and under the blanket satoru was using.
your arms wrap around his torso and you hug him tightly to your body, face buried in his shirt to cover your embarrassed and remorseful expression.
satoru’s eyes widen a bit at the sudden show of affection, though he wasn’t complaining. he reciprocates the gesture and nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head.
“my little baby.” he chuckles, hands rubbing your back in attempt to reassure you that everything was and will be fine, “i’m happy you decided to come back to me — thank you.”
again. that tender tone satoru uses only with you and for you. the guilt from earlier hits you like a truck and your eyes well up with tears before you could stop the process.
“sorry,” your voice cracks once you finally muster out an apology. the warmth engulfing your cold body was enough to make you sob in his comforting embrace. satoru sighs and closes his eyes. he rests his chin on top of your head whilst holding you like his life depended on it.
no words were exchanged between you two for a good minute. satoru silently encourages you to cry it out and so you do. after calming down, you sniffle and pull your head away from his chest. your eyes were watery and a bit red.
the pad of his thumb sweeps the stray tears away from your cheeks, his touch precise and careful. he smiles softly at the sight of his teary-eyed girlfriend. you were so adorable and precious to him. even when you looked like a mess — a pretty mess.
“i just..” you start off, small hiccups interrupting your sentence, “i wanted to apologise for acting so childish. i shouldn’t have said nor did any of those hurtful things. i apologise for that as well.”
your lover nods along to your words. he hums in delight and kisses your forehead, his lips lingering there for longer than intended, “don’t worry, baby. i understand. thank you for apologising, though.”
you mutter a small ‘of course’ in-between sniffles. that was all the reassurance you had needed to hear from your boyfriend. though, you still felt bad and the guilt of your immature actions seemed to linger in the back of your mind.
you lay your head back on satoru’s chest and listen to his heartbeat — hoping that the constant sound would drown out any other thoughts. your lover lays on his back and pulls you down on top of him. his hands rub your sides, slender fingers toying with the silky material of your nightgown.
“i’m sorry for being immature sometimes. i’m sure it must be troubling to deal with.” you whisper as you enjoy the feeling of being back in satoru’s arms.
he grins and shakes his head in response. he loves every side of yours — even your immature one. if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be here right now. he truly loves all of you.
the older man places another soft kiss on top of your head and closes his eyes afterwards, “heh, i’d be lying if i said that you trying to act all tough earlier wasn’t cute.”
satoru snickers at the memory. he remembers how you pointed that little finger of yours in front of his face and how you tried to subtly stand on the tips of your toes so you could look him in the eyes properly. your attempts at looking intimidating were quite endearing.
it’s not like he was invalidating your feelings with that comment — he was genuinely trying to lighten your mood. and it wasn’t like it didn’t work.
“whatever.” you huff, playfully swatting his biceps and gaining an over exaggerated ‘ow!’ in response. you’re glad that things have gone back to normal between you two. if the situation had continued for any longer, you’d have lost your mind.
you aren’t the only one who is extremely relieved. satoru is beaming with joy because he gets to hold and talk to you again. that small period of silence between the both of you felt like an eternity to him.
no matter how many times you have those little arguments, satoru will still love you all the same.
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jamminvroomvroom · 2 months ago
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as sick as it sounds, i loved you first. 2
LN x fem!leclerc reader
PART 2 OF 2 -> read part 1 linked HERE!
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here we go again guys, you know the drill! follows directly on from part 1 because of the silly word count :(
warnings: warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, angst, fluff, kinda enemies to lovers? kinda? r is charles sister oop, miscommunication, both of them are down bad for eachother but they are also extremely dumb! breeding kink, size kink, pain kink (if u squint), unprotected p in v (don’t be silly!)
part 2: 6.1k words
8. i have you.
“you never told me why.” lando blurts.
the sun is setting outside, the pair of you sprawled out over your hotel bed. he’d been in your room for a few hours, tangled with you between the linen sheets. it’s thursday in brazil, and he’d made a beeline for your hotel room after media day wrapped up. he couldn’t explain the anxiety he felt, pooling thickly in the pit of his belly, but it subsided as soon as he saw your pretty face, peeking through the crack in your door.
he’d stayed after, a habit that had been developing of late, when you were both at home in monaco, but it was unusual on a race weekend. you’d pulled out your laptop to do some work, and chucked the remote at him, telling him to put something on netflix. he’d just smiled and obliged, more than willing to stay with you.
“told you ‘why’ what?” you look up from your laptop, confused.
“why you haven’t really been with anyone else.” his voice is small, scared he’s overstepping but he figures he’s seen you naked one too many times to get shy.
“oh.”
you stare off into the dim light of the room for a second, collecting your thoughts, reliving it all.
“you don’t need to tell me, sorry if that was weird-“
“no, uh, it’s fine. it’s a bit tragic really, embarrassing.” you start. “there was a guy, a couple of years ago. he was on my course at uni. he was perfect, flowers on my doorstep once a week, romantic dinners overlooking the harbour.” you reminisce, smiling sadly. “we went on a few dates and he was selling it all perfectly, it was like he was telling me everything i wanted to hear. i trusted him, so i slept with him. it was my first time.” your breath hitches. “next thing i know, he’s telling everyone that will listen that he’s best friends with charles leclerc and that he’s fucked an f1 drivers sister. and, you know, monaco is small. charles and arthur beat the shit out of him.” you laugh, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, which are now glossed over with fresh, stinging tears.
lando slides closer to you, tentatively wrapping an arm over your shoulder.
“it’s always been hard, you know? people trying to get close to me so that they could get close to charles. all my life, it’s been the same shit. i just wanted someone to want me for me, just once.”
you’re crying now, and lando wants to die for causing it.
“hey, ‘m so sorry, honey. i shouldn’t have asked.” he shushes you, pulling you close. he kisses the top of your head gently, and you snuggle further into him.
“no, it’s okay. wanted you to know. that’s why i like this. us.” it comes out just above a whisper.
“that’s why i like us too.” he murmurs. you look up at him, scanning his face.
“what’s your story? charles said something to me once about a bad breakup.” you ask softly. lando sighs.
“she wanted the lifestyle more than she wanted me.” he shrugs.
“i’m sorry.”
“don’t be. i’m better off.” i have you, he wants to add.
“i like the fact that we can’t hurt eachother that way.” you breathe, voicing the sentiment that you’ve both shared since the very first time you were together.
“i like it too, honey. more than you know.”
-
9. ache.
a weight lifts off of him in vegas.
brazil had been a shit show, one that he wanted to forget. one that left him awake for two days avoiding your calls, until you snapped him out of it by showing up at his place anyway, and giving him the best head of his fucking life. he’d slept like a damn baby after that.
he had a week off, after, which he spent in your bed more than his own, and then he was promptly off to nevada, awaiting your arrival a few days later and fixated on clawing something back after brazil, even if it was just pride.
well, that fixation didn’t amount to much, but at least you were there, somewhere, watching and waiting. charles is a wreck, though, storming away from parc ferme, which means you’ll be with him, instead of with lando. he feels selfish at the way it stings.
he’s exhausted when he leaves the track, dead on his feet in the elevator up to his room. he can’t bring himself to join max or george and celebrate. he’ll make it up to both of them another time. his phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, recognising your contact. he doesn’t even fight the smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth.
packed something special for you. you gonna come find out what?
he’s in love with you. has been for a while.
the attention you pay to him for himl, the way you tease him and laugh with him and let him lose himself in unravelling you. your quick wit, mesmerising eyes, the way you switch languages when he scrambles your brain and you can’t think hard enough to keep speaking english. he’s a goner, and he knows it.
he doesn’t bother replying, just makes a beeline for your room. he’s spent enough time in it already this weekend to make it there without much thought. you’d even left him a keycard, which he retrieves with nimble fingers from his wallet, letting himself into your suite.
he calls your name, rounding the corner and he could die right there, just at the sight of you.
you’re lamplit, knelt on the middle of your bed, wrapped in nothing but intricate, baby pink lace.
“my god.” he pants, jaw dropped. you’re ethereal, gorgeous, a delicate gift wrapped up just for him to open.
“do you like it?” your eyes are wide, daunted.
“what the fuck did i do to deserve you?” he stalks to the end of the bed, shrugging off his jacket, his hoodie, until he’s left in a white vest and team joggers. he kneels down at the foot of the bed, ready to crawl over you. “i love it.”
you flush, grinning sweetly as he crawls over you, pushing you back into the mattress.
“you did this all for me?” lando asks, stroking over a lacy bra strap.
“thought you deserved it.” you purr, but your facade slips for just a minute. “is this okay? never done this before.” you glance up at him with round, doe eyes that make him swallow hard, melting further into you.
“‘s perfect.” he promises. “you’re so perfect.”
lando kisses you softly, his warm skin pressing into yours. you moan quietly into his mouth, holding him close. he thumbs over the lace adorning your bust, stroking it. you squirm every time he brushes your skin.
“wanna be on top. wanna try it.” you pant into his mouth, watching closely as he groans, eyes fluttering as he imagines the sight.
“only if you keep this on.” he bargains, flipping the pair of you over.
you sit up on his lap, smoothing your hands over his chest as his find your hips. he steadies you, playing with the band of your panties, tracing over the pattern.
“can’t believe you did this all for me.” lando coos, taking the opportunity to take it all in, you, flustered and breathtaking, straddling him. dressed up all for him, all his.
“you deserve it.”
“do you think you’re ready for me? lemme see.” his hand skates between your thighs, pressing the pads of his fingers against the crotch of your underwear. he applies pressure against the wet patch that he feels, licking his lips. “were you thinking about me when you were getting all dressed up? thinking about how i’d touch you?”
“yeah,” you nod frantically, grinding down on his fingers. “wanted you all day but i wanted to be good for you.” you pout. you’re gonna kill him, he thinks.
“always good for me.” he applies more pressure, toying with your clit through the lace, the sensation making you quiver, bucking your hips.
“just want you inside of me, lando. i’m ready.” you plead, palming over his sweats. your hand travels further, finding his between your legs. you tug your underwear to the side, and he feels just how wet you are for him.
“you sure, baby?”
there he goes again. baby. your tummy twists.
“yeah, lan, i want it to hurt a little.” you sound so sweet for him and it shreds the rest of his self restraint.
lando sits up just enough to rip off his vest, taps your thigh so that you lift up for a second, long enough for him to shrug off his sweats. when he’s bare, he paws at your hips, helping you to adjust. your fingers wrap around his length and he jolts, mouth falling open as you swipe the head of him through your slit. you sink down, taking just the tip, but it feels like the first time all over again, the angle creating delicious pressure that burns through your pelvis. your eyes squeeze shut and he swirls his fingers over your sides.
“take it easy for me, love.” lando urges, looking up at you with concern.
“i like it. promise.” you choke out, eyes rolling back at the pleasure, the burn.
you continue to slide down on him, sinking further and further until you’re flush against his pelvis. you roll your hips experimentally, your clit brushing against the thatch of hair at his base and you squirm, sensitive.
“want me to help?” he asks through gritted teeth.
“wanna do this for you.” you pant, rocking your hips against his.
the angle is brutal, so intoxicatingly good, and you can already feel yourself leaking all over him. you build up a rhythm, slow and steady, watching the ripple of his abs everytime you sink back down on him, the way his curls fan over his forehead, the veins in his arms bulging as he grips at your waist tighter and tighter.
“you look so pretty, baby, taking me like this.” lando sighs, helping you pick up the pace. you cry out, leaning backwards, fingers gripping his firm thighs.
“it’s so good, you feel so good.” you whine, arching your back.
he’s entranced by the way your breasts bounce, fighting against the skimpy bra and he sinks his teeth into his plush bottom lip, eyeing you hungrily. one hand leaves your waist and travels to the cups of your bra, tugging so harshly that you hear the threads break. he frees your tits, watching in delight as they fall out of the lace confines.
“you’re so sexy, honey, look so beautiful. you’re all mine, aren’t you? this is all for me, right?” lando’s eyes roll back in his head when he feels the way you clamp down around him at his words. he’s gonna fill you up, he thinks, mark you as his from the inside out.
“yeah, lan, all yours.” you slur, fighting the urge to cum. “‘m all yours.”
he can see that you’re tiring, the ache setting in, so he pulls you forward, until you’re chest to chest, wrapped up his his thick arms.
“i’ve got you, baby.” he swears, holding you close as he rolls his hips, fucking up into you.
it’s all too much like this, the constant pressure on your clit, the head of his cock tapping against your cervix, the thrumming of his heart, the cold sweat of his chest peaking your nipples. you let out a strangled cry of his name, and you see white, your nerve endings overstimulated and fried. all you can hear is his voice, pulling your through it and out the other side.
“did so good for me, baby, such a good girl. took it all so well, love.”
you’re limp on top of him, a dead weight curled around him like a life force. there’s nothing that could make him move you, and wouldn’t let you go unless you asked. you lay there in silence, your mixed release leaking out of you. your heart rate steadies, about as much as it can with him around, and you feel yourself blinking away sleep, exhausted. lando notices, of course he does.
“let’s clean up.” he suggests, sitting up carefully with you on his lap.
“carry me?” you request sleepily, a lazy smile painting your face.
“as you wish.” he jokes, bowing his head.
your legs wrap around his waist as he shuffles off of the bed, and he walks to the bathroom, setting you down on the marble sink top. he leans into the shower, adjusting the temperature and turning the water on. he lets it heat up and turns back to you. no words are exchanged as he peels your ruined panties off, as he unhooks your bra and drops its all onto the counter. he tugs you off of the side, guiding your under the stream of water, the warmth making you relax into him. he’s more than happy to prop you up.
“my legs ache.” you giggle, resting your cheek against his shoulder.
“was it worth it?”
“definitely.”
“good.”
he cleans you, massaging soap into your skin, and washing it off. you stay close while he does the same for himself, passing him different products as you clean up together. it’s quiet, nothing needs to be said, and you wonder if this is what life with him would be like. domestic and easy.
“stay.” you let yourself ask, croaking the request out into the silence. you’re both drying off, and he’s gathering he’s clothes.
“i thought you’d want me to go.” he looks like a deer in headlights. cute.*
“stay.” your repeat, and this time it sounds like a plea. he slides his boxers on.
“okay.”
he’s like a furnace under the covers and you can’t help but curl into his side, legs wrapping around eachothers. there’s no going back from this, you fear. he’s thinking the same thing. you kiss his chest as you fall asleep, just a quick press of your lips to his pec, but it makes him hot all over. if the lights were still on, you’d see him blushing. he returns the favour with careful peck to your hairline. you both nuzzle impossibly closer.
“has it ever been like that for you?” you whisper into the darkness. you hear the change in his breathing.
the question is loaded; have you ever felt like this before? was that just sex to you? what are we? what is this? do you want me how i want you?
“never.” it’s barely a whisper
you fall asleep with a smile on your face.
-
when you wake up, he stirs, bronzed arms tightening around you.
“go back to sleep.” he grumbles, pulling your back to his chest.
“i need to catch my flight.” you reply, turning around to face him.
you’re stunned when you see him smushed into the pillow, lips pouty, eye lashes fluttering to clear away sleep. he looks so pretty in the morning light, and you wish you’d asked him to stay the night sooner.
“just fly with me.” lando mutters. you freeze.
“lan, you know i can’t do that. what would that look like?”
“who cares?” he half shrugs behind you, and you wriggle away, sit up in bed.
“uh, me? i care, lando. i can’t be seen flying around with some other driver, do you know how much that would complicate things?”
“some other driver.” he huffs. that gets his attention, and he sits up. “what so we can sneak around, and you’ll let me fuck you, but being on an airplane together is crossing the line?” he grunts sarcastically. you narrow your eyes at him.
“don’t say it like that.” you scold.
“how should i say it, then? i thought maybe this meant something more to you.” he’s standing from the bed now, hurt thick in his voice, and you panic, reaching out for him, but he’s finding his clothes.
“it does! it does mean something to me but… lando, i can’t put charles in that position. i can’t put myself in that position.” you reason weakly, standing and rapidly moving towards him. you pull him to face you, holding onto his shoulders. “don’t go, please.” you whisper, cupping his cheek.
he stares down at you, dejected, a wounded animal, and pushes your hands off of him.
“i, uh. i care about you. a lot. too much, i think. i can’t go through this again, and you can’t hurt your brother. so…” he breathes shakily.
“so?” you plead, shaking your head. “don’t do this, we can…”
“i’m not gonna be ‘some other driver’, honey. ‘m sorry.”
“lando-“
“its okay. this was good while it lasted, and i know you’re gonna find what you’re looking for, without all of the, uh,” he gestures around blindly. “the complications.”
“don’t go.” you whisper, catching his hand. tears pool in the corners of your eyes, distorting him.
“go catch your flight.” he smiles sadly, finally dressed, and then he’s gone.
you stand frozen, taking stock of whatever the fuck just happened.
i care about you.
good while it lasted.
you’re gonna find what you’re looking for.
complications.
you choke out a sob, stumble backwards onto the foot of your bed when it hits you.
you’d already found what you were looking for, and now, he was gone.
-
you’re supposed to go straight to qatar with charles, but you beg him to get you a flight home instead.
he can hear that you’ve been crying, and tells you that he’ll kill anyone that you need him to. you promise it’s fine, through even more tears, tell him that you’ll fill him in when he’s got a minute to breathe.
the ticket lands in your inbox and you flee. you spend the twelve hour flight watching love actually, crying into a glass of wine, and wondering if you should get gracie abrams’ lyrics tattooed on your forehead.
i love you, i’m sorry would be quite fitting right about now.
when you land, you don’t even go home, making a beeline for alex and charles’ apartment instead. when alex lets you in, confused to see your face, leo does laps around your feet. you drop your bags and fall into her arms, sob until your throat is raw and your eyes are bloodshot.
“i fucked up.” you wail, breathing hard.
“lando?” she asks, tentative. she has a knowing look, and your eyes nearly fall out of your head.
“what? how did you-“
“well let’s just say that we saw the DM he sent you, and arthur was actually sat opposite me when you said you were with him.” she admits. you gasp.
“does charles… does he…?”
“oh, sweetie, charles knows nothing. although he did ask me what shoe size you wear after coming to your place a few weeks back. he said something about a pair of birkenstocks that looked huge compared to your other shoes, and i told him that was just the style.” she snorts, and you slap your hand over your forehead.
“oh, jesus.” you whine, hiding your face in your hands.
“wanna tell me what happened?”
“i don’t even know, he asked me to fly with him and then i said it would complicate things, that i couldn’t been seen with, quote on quote, ‘some other driver.’” you sigh.
“some other driver? oh, girl.”
“yep.”
“were you guys dating…? or?”
“no! lately things had been a bit more,” you pause, gathering your thoughts. “intimate? i don’t know. i definitely have feelings for him.”
alex looks at you sympathetically, strokes your knee soothingly.
“have you told him that?”
“no, i didn’t know how and now he’s done with me.” you wince, a fresh wave of tears pricking your eyes.
“maybe not, sweetie, maybe you if you told him how you felt, he’d understand. is charles what you’re worried about?”
“charles, the fans, all of it.” you whimper.
“the fans can be, well, intense, but take it from me, if lando’s worth it, none of that matters. is he worth it?”
you pause, weighing it all up. the way he’d been with you, so gentle and caring, considerate and interested in you. he’d made you feel safe and satisfied, and everytime you caught him looking at you, you felt that first initial spark all over again. you could laugh with him, push and tease and not just be charles leclerc’s little sister. you look forward to seeing him, feeling him, speaking to him. all of this together feels heavy, but you want to bear it.
“he is.” you whisper, looking at alex nervously. “oh, god, what do i do?”
“i think there’s a paddock pass with your name on it that you should make use of.” she tells you, wrapping you in a tight hug. “and if charles has a problem, tell him he has to go through me.”
-
10. pizza and pasta.
max fewtrell sips his coffee in the hotel lobby, waiting for keegan to join him. it’s hot in qatar, dry and bright, ornate.
his phone buzzes.
message request from: yourusername
HI SORRY ARE YOU IN QATAR????
he probably looks like a cartoon character, eyes bulging out of his skull.
another message comes through.
this sounds insane and i’m sorry that this is like, the first time we’ve ever spoken, but i need a huge favour. like a really really huge favour.
max scratches the back of his head, pulling a face at his phone. baffled wouldn’t even begin to cover how he feels.
he picks up his phone, and opens the messages.
-
lando over exerts himself keeping away from you. the sprint race had been a breeze compared to staying away, out of your reach. it hurts like hell, but it’s a necessary evil for both your sakes.
he wants to sleep, do nothing else but collapse onto his mattress, phone silenced and curtains drawn as tightly shut as they can go. he unlocks the door to his hotel room. the light flashes green, and he relaxes, finally. until, he doesn’t.
there’s a faint sound coming from down the short corridor that separates his front door from his sleeping area. it’s not max, he’s just left him outside his own hotel room, and it’s not keegan, either, for the same reason. he wonders if he has another stalker, braces himself and picks up the first thing he can find. a shoe. useless, he thinks.
lando creeps down the corridor, poised and ready, jumps out of his skin when you round the corner before he can get there. you yelp, bracing yourself against the wall.
“what the fuck, i thought you were a murderer!” lando huffs, throwing his head back.
somehow, the sight of you is worse than any murderer could ever be.
“putain! god, i’m so sorry! so sorry!” you squeak.
“how did you get in here?”
“funny story,” you tilt your head to the side, trying to look harmless. “max let me in.”
“verstappen?” lando asks, face twisting with confusion.
“no, idiot. fewtrell.” you reply, duh-like. “i can go, i know this is crazy and weird and a total violation, but i had to talk to you.” your voice softens and lando seems to finally relax. he’ll kill max later.
“this is batshit, actually, but i respect the grind.” lando shrugs. “what do you want?” he sounds harsher than intended, closed off, but you suppose you deserve it.
“i’m sorry about what happened last weekend.” you inhale shakily. “i… i care about you a lot, too, and i have done for a while but i was too scared to say it. i realised as soon as you left that i never ever wanna hurt you like that. never want you to feel like i don’t lo- care about you… like that.” you catch yourself, not ready to say certain words. he gets the gist.
“i don’t wanna be some hookup anymore. it was fine at first, when i thought that’s all i could have from you, but i know that it’s not. i want you.” lando states, his words poignant. “whatever pace you need, whatever you want from me, i wanna give it to you.”
the space between you dissipates.
“i saw you, you know, watching me from your garage all those months ago, like you were trying place me.” your voice is barely above a whisper. “admittedly, i kinda wanted to punch you for ruining that dress, but i also, really really secretly thought you were cute.”
“well, if we’re being honest, i really wanted to fuck you the first time i saw you.” he jokes crudely, and you slap his chest. “in my defence, i was blackout drunk.”
“asshole.” you mutter. you’re so close now that his nose bumps yours.
“i think you like it.” he whispers.
“yeah, i really do.”
your lips meet his urgently, homecoming. it’s been too long since you’ve had him in your hands, touched him and felt him breathe against you. the kiss is passionate, frantic, and you know you’re in love with him. you’re certain.
-
an hour later, you’re tucked into bed with him, a movie that you’re not paying attention to playing idly on the tv. pizza crusts lay on a plate, the leftovers of your impromptu dinner date.
you’ve covered your degree, how he got into racing, what you do for work, who you’re friends are, family dynamics.
you learn that his favourite colour actually is yellow, and he learns that you’re favourite drink is red wine. he prefers pizza, you prefer pasta. you like flat whites, and he doesn’t like coffee at all.
“after abu dhabi, i’ll take you on a real date. i promise.” he sounds excited as he says it, and you melt into his side.
“oh yeah?” you ask, looking up at him, your cheeks smushed against his shoulder. he tucks your hair behind your ear, thumb stroking your cheek tenderly. he just hums in response, gazing down at you.
“gonna talk to your brothers as well.” he murmurs, dipping down to peck your lips.
“not just yet.” you whisper. he furrows his eyebrows.
“why?” he doesn’t sound upset, maybe a little deflated.
“i wanna enjoy this a bit longer, at least go on a real date before, you know, they kill you.” you keep your tone serious, holding it together well. he bursts out laughing, squeezing you closer.
“and here i was worried that you were ashamed of me.” he’s grinning toothily, boyish and pure, and you kiss him again, deeper.
“never.” you coo.
-
11. daylight.
abu dhabi is a distant memory by the time you get back to monaco. you were happy for your brother and your boyfriend.
yeah, that’s what you get to call him now.
your first date had been effortless and yet so intricately perfect, lando planning it down to the last detail. flowers delivered to you the morning of, picking you up at the door, telling you just how beautiful you looked. your table had been waiting for you, candlelit, dressed immaculately. a bottle of red wine served as the centrepiece, your favourite kind. swoon.
he orders pizza, you order pasta. halfway through, you switch plates.
you wake up the next morning in his arms, content and satiated, still bare from the night before. your phone is buzzing, stirring your both out of your deep sleep. you ignore it.
“c’mere.” he begs, breath fanning out across your neck and you wriggle backwards, further into his arms. your naked skin moulds with his, and you can feel him, ready and waiting against the curve of your ass. he’s still half asleep, and so are you, but you spread your legs just enough for him to swipe himself through your folds and slip right in.
you groan at the stretch, he shushes you soothingly, clinging to your frame. everything is so warm and heightened.
“so ready for me.” he whispers, kissing over your shoulder, hips making the most minimal, languid thrusts that make you dizzy.
“want you like this every morning.” you purr, hiking your top leg up even further. he’s basically on top of you now, his body half covering yours.
lando drags your hips back to meet his, breathing heavily against the back of your neck.
“anytime you want me ‘m here. ‘m yours.” lando mutters, eyes rolling back in his head when you clench around him. lewd sounds are exchanged between your lazy bodies, so worked up, two powder kegs desperate to explode.
it happens in waves, powerful orgasms washing over your bodies like the sunlight through the curtains. it’s bright and warm and leaves you buzzing underneath him, electrified.
“good morning.” you smirk, rolling over to face him.
he’s already sunk back down into the mattress, a satisfied grin on his face, eyelashes dusting the tops of his cheeks where his eyes have fallen shut. he looks angelic, and if it wasn’t for his devious ways, you’d hail him a saint.
“very good morning, baby.” lando pants, scrubbing his hands over his face.
“you look so pretty.” you breathe, raking your nails through his hair. he groans, shivers of pleasure radiating through his scalp and down his back.
“not as pretty as you.” he surges forward, pinning you to the bed, the pair of you a hazy mess of limbs and laughter, so wrapped up in eachother. he’s peppering you with kisses, all over you face and your chest, further and further down your body.
round two is about to commence, and you’re more than excited, ready to welcome him back between your thighs, when you both here a loud, repetitive thud coming from faraway. lando pulls back, trying to pinpoint the sound.
“is that the door?” he says to himself. “sorry, baby. need to get that.” he frowns apologetically. you sigh, waving your hand in understanding, watching as he grabs a robe.
-
charles nearly chokes on air and fury when he gets the all caps message from arthur, followed by one from lorenzo, then his publicist.
arthur: HAVE YOU SEEN TWITTER? i don’t know if i should laugh or cry
enzo: be nice to her, don’t be a little bitch
publicist: Charles, we will need to address this news immediately and conclude whether the photos are out of context or not. Meeting scheduled on the shared calendar.
first question: what fucking photos? did someone catch him picking his nose in public?
second question: who does he need to be nice too?
third question: can he not go five fucking minutes without some impending media crisis?
he opens twitter and doesn’t need to look hard, because there on his screen is a picture taken the night before of his precious baby sister, and there is lando fucking norris with his tongue down her throat.
alex asks him where he’s going, watching him storm out keys in hand. he doesn’t respond with anything but a growl and a mutter of your name. alex’s eyes go wide, reached for her phone.
to: your number
girl he knows! idk how but he KNOWS!
for once in your life PICK UP THE PHONE
JESUS OKAY i just saw twitter…
OKAY im tracking charles location rn and looks like he’s near lando’s?
MISS LECLERC PLEASE! HELLO?????
it was nice knowing you babe.
-
you pick up your phone as lando leaves the room, scrolling absentmindedly through your notifications. your interest peaks, however, when you see about a million texts from alex, and even more missed call. in fact, you have literally thousands of notifications, and your blood runs cold.
you’d been so careful last night, surely it hadn’t leaked. your blood runs cold when you open your text chain with alex. the aggressive knocking on the door suddenly makes harrowing sense and you spring from the mattress just in time to hear the front door click.
“is she here?” you hear charles bellow, voice laced thickly with anger.
“uh… who?” lando tries, he really does, but he’s not a good liar. you wince, grabbing anything to cover your dignity: lando’s sweats and a t-shirt. you scramble out of the bedroom, sliding down the corridor from the sheer speed you’re moving at.
“fucking hell.” charles sighs, wincing at the sight of you. “of all the people on the planet, you pick my rival? you pick him?” charles barks at you. you close your eyes, focusing on your breathing as your chest constricts. “i told you. i specifically told you not to mess around with him, and c’mon, i don’t ask you for much.” charles throws his hands out in frustration.
“charles, listen to me,” you keep your voice calm and steady. “we’re not messing around, we… we’re together.” you confirm, watching his jaw tick.
“together? with him? do you know how many girls probably think they’re in a relationship with him? half of the portuguese modelling industry is linked to him.” charles laughs incredulously, disgusted. your eyes narrow, watching lando crumble into a million pieces in your peripheral.
“don’t you dare ruin this for me! and how can you come into his house and speak to him that way? my god, charles, you don’t get it, do you? i can never be happy with anyone because of you! everyone, everyone, uses me to get to you and, god, i finally found someone who cares about me and couldn’t give less of a shit about who you are and you don’t approve? shall i stay single and lonely and in your shadow forever? should i go for some greasy hedge fund legacy who wants to fuck any leclerc he can get his hands on? huh? i’m sorry if you don’t approve, truly, i am, but you will not have a say in this.”
charles stays silent, as does lando, the only sound in the hallway being your heavy breathing, a symptom of your monologue. you feel the ghost of lando’s touch on your waist, soothing you from your outburst, and you lean into his touch, looking up at him. his eyes are reassuring, the only source of comfort.
charles watches intently, the silent communication between you both, and it knocks him for six. ultimately, he wants you to be happy, but it begs the question: can lando make you happy? the way you truly deserve? he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, lets out a muttered string of expletives.
“will you look after her?” he stares daggers at lando, watches the way the brit straightens up.
“i will.” lando nods firmly, eyes sincere.
“and you won’t hurt her? you won’t fuck her around?” charles looks like he’s desperately pleading, but his voice is commanding, no margin for error.
“i promise.”
“and you’ll make her happy?”
“i’d do anything for her.”
your head snaps towards lando, the tears you’d been holding back finally breaking the dam. charles watches closely, steps backwards towards the door. there isn’t space for him here right now.
“okay. i- okay.” you watch the way charles backs down, and he finally meets your eyes again. “ma chére, je suis désolé.” he tells you solemnly. you nod, lips in a thin, hard line. you can feel lando nudge you forward.
“come here, loser.” you groan, opening your arms for your brother. charles meets you half way, squeezes you tight. he gently kisses your forehead and turns to leave, not before shooting lando a look that says ‘i’m watching you.’
you turn back to your newfound boyfriend, tears still falling, but you pay them no mind.
“well done, baby.” he affirms, thumbing away your tears.
“i love you, lando.” you whisper, threading your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. “thank you.” his eyes glaze over, total adoration swirling in the pools of green.
“so glad you said that because i absolutely love you too.” he laughs, hauling you in for a kiss. it’s a mess of tears and laughter and a weird sense of serenity.
“you might wanna call your publicist. pictures of last night leaked.” you mumble against his lips.
“at least we don’t have to sneak around anymore.” he shrugs. “i’ll call later. got things to do.” he picks you up effortlessly, throwing you over his shoulder. you squeal, and he teasingly slaps your ass.
you catch sight of the apartment as he walks you through it, and you think about the first time you saw it, under the cover of darkness, covert and clandestine.
you much prefer it in the light of day.
you prefer lando in the light of day, too.
yourusername and landonorris just posted on instagram:
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liked by: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and others.
yourusername: oops!
comments on this post have been disabled.
-
thank god that’s over lmfao - thank you for reading!!
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infictionalwonderland · 9 months ago
Note
I NEED PART TWO OF THE MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N L/N!
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. . . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT! (part2)
part 1 / part 3
You cackled to yourself after sending the message into your groupchat, quickly returning to the video and beginning to play it again, occasional bursts of giggles slipping through your lips.
Resuming your place in the video—the first clip that began playing was actually from not that long ago at all. It was You, Kat Dennings, Elizabeth Olsen and Zendaya at Taylor Swifts Eras Tour (an experience you would genuinely never forget). Taylor was playing Lover and, in the clip, Kat had your face in one hand and the other wrapped around your waist, bringing you close to her body.
“Lover, can I go where you go—“ Kat sang with Taylor, singing all the lyrics to you and grinning at you, faces inches away from each other. “—Can we always be this close.” She punctuated this lyric with giving you an eskimo kiss.
You smiled sincerely at the memory.
The next clip began up, it was you and Chris Evans doing Playground Insults with BBC Radio 1: the two of you were sat opposite each other, knees touching, Chris was grinning goofily at you, giddy laughs escaping him as you tried to remain straight faced.
“—we’re here with Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N.” The presenters introduced.
“And we’re about to play Playground Insults . . Now Chris and Y/N are sat opposite each other,” the camera cut to you and Chris, him smiling largely and you looking away to contain your own, “the atmosphere is very tense.”
“We’ve done this quite a few times now but im thinking.. this is the biggest movie of the year, let’s make this the biggest playground insults we’ve ever done.”
“Yep.” Chris nodded, trying not to laugh.
“Chris, hun. . you’re ugly. Like, plain ugly.” You nodded seriously, immediately setting off as you feigned a pained wince to the words. “Everyone’s been talking about it. . just, you’re so atrocious to look at. Honestly, I almost feel arse over tits in horror when I saw you.”
Chris opened his mouth to say something but then faltered and pouted, “no matter how good of an actor I am, I could never even get those words out my mouth about you and make them sound genuine. Seriously.”
The third clip started—it was Chris Hemsworth on a carpet, a bold colourful question at the bottom said ‘WHO HAS THE MOST FANS?’. Chris immediately said, “Y/n.” In that deep Australian accent of his. “Not that I blame the people from choosing her to be the people’s queen, she is truly one of a kind. You’ll only ever meet one Y/n in your lifetime, cherish it. The fans have the right idea.”
It changed to Scarlett with the same colourful question at screen and at the same carpet event: “Oh, Yeah. Y/n, one hundred percent.” She chuckled huskily. “That woman has fans upon fans and seriously, I’m one of them. She is something else.” She grinned, winking at the camera.
After Scarlett, Paul Rudd came onto your screen in the very same clip. “Oh! The legend herself, Y/N Y/L/N.” Paul answered brightly, smiling. “The amount of fans she has is unbelievable—well, it’s definitely believable for someone like her, so, not really unbelievable..”
The forth clip began—it was you all playing Family Feud with Jimmy Kimmel, on his live show. Sebastian and RDJ were currently facing off; Jimmy posed the question “what, other than the sun, are some of the hottest things to exist?”
Sebastian got to the buzzer faster than Robert managed to and didn’t even falter or hesitate as he answered straight away, “Y/N Y/L/N.”
The audience immediately screamed laughed and shrieked in delight, RDJ just nodded his head in understanding and appreciation, clapping his hands. Chris Evans, Mark and Anthony on the other side all looked amused but ultimately accepting (Chris was nodding along almost subconsciously). You were on the other team, looking heavenward with a faint exasperated grin and Scarlet wrapped her arm around your waist, Chris Hemsworth smirking at you both.
The fifth clip started up: it was a behind the scenes shot from Endgame, the big final battle. You were currently in the middle of doing your own stunt, green screen behind you and harnesses strapped to you as you dangled at a halfway point in the air. Your arms and hands were positioned in such a way to show your character manipulating her powers—the position also very much enhanced your chest, with the added help of your superhero attire. You looked hot, even you could admit.
The camera mirthfully panned to some of the rest of the cast who all stood aside while you filmed your scene—said cast being Chris Evans, Tom Holland, Gwyneth Paltrow, RDJ, Elizabeth Olsen and Tessa Thompson. All of their eyes were fixated on you, Robert was the only one grinning in amusement (and awe) while all the others stared at you as though you hung the sun yourself.
“Boobies.” Lizzie giggled faintly, her eyes stuck. The rest of the cast watching dumbly nodded while the crew cracked up behind the cameras.
And if you screenshotted their dumbfounded faces looking ip at on screen you. . well that was your business.
The clip changed. It was now Karen Gillan being interviewed on some carpet event, looking genuinely breathtaking. The interviewer was asking, “—obviously, your friend and co-star Y/N Y/L/N has been in lots of iconic movies. . what is your favourite scene of hers in The Wolf of Wall Street?”
Karen paused with a cheeky little smile, giving the interviewer a a jokingly incredulous look. “Come on.” She simply said. “It’s a bloody no brainer, I’m certain it was Leonardo’s favourite scene too. . I hope it is anyway otherwise he’s a silly, silly man.”
At the same carpet event with the same interviewer, Chris Hemsworth was being interviewed—his wife, Elsa, on his arm and looking half ready to battle off any rude interviewers (queen).
“—what is your favourite scene of hers in Ocean’s 8?”
“All of them!” Elsa answered eagerly, grinning. “Her outfits really accentuated her personality and I enjoyed them very much so. Particularly her outfit for the gala. . the amount of accentuated personality, by gosh, it had me speechless.”
Chris turned her head, obviously trying not to laugh at his wife.
“Nunca he estado más celoso y agradecido por la ropa en mi vida.” Elsa hummed.
You blinked.
The clip changed to you, Sebastian, Lizzie, Paul, Jeremy and Jimmy all on his Tonight Show playing Musical Beers. The slightly unnerving music/beat played in the background while you all stalked around the circle, Paul and Jeremy already out—leaving you, Seb, Lizzie and Jimmy.
As you were all racing around the circular table, Lizzie very obviously swatted your ass and you were impressed with your own body as you watched that impact: the audience erupted into laughs and shrieks, Jimmy playfully covering his eyes as Seb smirked. You thought that would be the end of the clip, but no.
The very disco-esk tune briefly cut out and past time you thought that meant it stopped completely and you’d already reached for the red cup in front of you and chugged it’s contents, only to pause as the music began back up.
“Spit it back! Spit it back!”
You did just that—but when the music actually stopped and Seb was left standing in front of the cup with your (let’s not go there) in it, your mouth popped open in shock. Jeremy gladly backed away from the table in hysterics, Lizzie and Jimmy equally as amused.
“Oh my god, I am—“
Sebastian quickly downed the cup with. . those contents, not even looking all that perturbed.
“So sorry.” You finished, mouth agape.
You vaguely remembered a conversation you’d had with him after the show, sincerely and repeatedly apologising and he was just very, very amused with you. He didn’t seem to mind at all—what an odd man.
“It’s all good.” Sebastian chuckled lowly, wrapping the mortified looking past you in a one armed shoulder hug and squeezing you to him. Lizzie seemed to be trying to trade a very obvious eye message with you—the audience shrieked and screamed in the background.
Another clip began: its was you and Scarlett Johansson doing a trust fall thing, you thought (correctly).
“Scarlett I swear. .” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at the woman behind you—she grinned back at you amusedly, her eyes twinkling.
“Calm down.” She laughed herself. “I’ll catch you don’t worry, gorgeous.”
Still slightly overcome with nervous giggles, you turned and let out a breath as you shut your eyes before holding at your arms and falling back.
And catch you she definitely did—although her hands didn’t exactly land in a PG-13 area, you cackled as you watched her hands grope at your chest to pull you up. In the video, you were also wheezing as were the crew and Scarlett had a cheeky little smirk as she laughed.
When you were finally standing, she gave one last squeeze before finally letting go—on screen you was breathless with giggles.
“Always wanted to do that.” She shrugged simply with a large amused smile.
The next clip began—it was Zendaya and Tom Holland on LADBible, playing that how much do you agree or not game. The statement said was ‘Y/N Y/L/N is everyone‘s celebrity crush’.
Instantly, Tom and Zendaya moved their cups to strongly agree, both of them nodding in solid agreement with the statement: presently, you awed at your friends, ego very much boosted. Well. To be fair, all of this video was massively boosting your ego.
“I mean, come on.” Zendaya made a ‘duh’ face and shrugged her shoulders.
“It’s Y/N.” Tom smiled crookedly, adding onto her comment.
“I am so happy I get to now say that she’s one of my closest friends.” Zendaya beamed genuinely. “She’s—one of those people whose beauty isn’t just an external thing, she’s so lovely man.” She pouted, in awe of you.
Watching the video, you beamed back at her.
The clip changed: Mark Ruffalo was on the Graham Norton show, next to Nicki Minaj and an actor you couldn’t place.
“Who would you say your favourite co-star has ever been, Mark?” Graham inquired.
“I—i would probably have to go with Y/N—“ The crowd instantly erupted into cheers and yells and Nicki smiled next to him, stating that she loved you under the sound of cheering. Mark grinned back at her, mumbling ‘me too’.
“Yeah, she’s a hell of an actress, that one. So easy to work with. Funny as f—hell, she’s just—an extremely genuine and kind person, and she really brings the energy on set.” Mark grinned. “..she’s also the only free pass my wife has ever given me. Which I won’t be using! Because I don’t believe in cheating, it’s scummy! Even though she’s gorgeous—anyone would be lucky!” He had to rise to a shout at the end as the audience erupted.
Nicki giggled next to him, “me personally, I would use that pass.”
You gasped in laughter as you watched the screen, screen-recording it all so you could go back and watch it. Saving it to your folder titled PISSING MY PANTS HRLP
The clip changed yet again, showing a scene from the Winter Solider BTS. You and Sebastian were filming a scene where he had to shoot your character—you watched the ‘Winter Solider’ shoot your character multiple times making you go down with an agonised yell, crawling away from him.
As soon as CUT was yelled, Sebastian’s face dropped from his stone cold (wintery) expression and he raced to you, crouching next to you. He practically tugged you into his lap on the floor, holding you.
“Oh my fuck that—that just felt so real, Y/n. You know I would never hurt you right?” He asked, blinking repeatedly before a small smirk fell on his lips. “You’re way too pretty to injure doll. Can’t ruin your perfect face.”
On screen you huffed in mock anger, hiding an amused grin as you shoved at him—he still held you close to him though, so both of you fell backwards and burst into giggles.
You literally thought ‘I ship them’ as you watched the clip of Sebastian and yourself, forgetting that was you for a moment.
Another clip started up—another behind the scenes. It was you and Tom Hiddleston in Thor : Ragnarok. In the scene Loki was tied down to the chair and your character was meant to intimidate him—you watched yourself take out your character’s daggers and lean forward into his space. One leg leaned up on top of the arm of the chair, sliding one dagger just a hair above the skin of his neck while using the over the move his chin up to be angled to you as you mockingly smiled down at him.
You said your line as your character but Tom remained silent, mouth parted and eyes widened as he gazed up at you—speech failing him. (You knew that they actually decided to include this awestruck look in the movie—the amount of fucking edits you’d seen was unreal).
Eyebrows crinkling you nudged your knee into his chest and he snapped out of it, grabbing your knee in a gentle grip. “Sorry darling, words sometimes seem to fail me in your presence.” He muttered rather hoarsely, still staring up at you.
“I don’t fucking blame him.” Tessa Thompson murmured from behind you both, and the camera moved to show her staring at you in a similar awe.
Present time, you could barely hide your smirk. Literally the biggest ego boost. Of all time.
Again, the clip changed and it was now Natalie Portman looking gorgeous on a carpet event, being interviewed—“if you could have Jane explore another romance than Thor, who would it be and why?”
“Y/N!” Natalia enthused immediately. “Well—her character, but like. Both. Either. One for me, one for Jane. That—would be great. And why? Come on! She’s an absolutely beautiful woman, inside and out. She has this outward glow that you literally cannot and don’t want to look away from and that reflects so much in her personality—once you’ve interacted with her one time, you never want to stop. Ever. I’m not kidding.” She giggled.
Another clip started up quickly—a blooper of you and Chris Evans. In this scene, your characters were meant to kiss after an angsty, angry argument. You stormed into the frame, into the bedroom, completely in character—an angry expression on and ready to go at Steve.
Before you could even let out a single syllable to begin your lines, Chris immediately surged forward and took your face in his hands, kissing the living daylights out of you.
You both pulled back after a bit and you just started at him, questioningly (that kiss was probably one of your best ever, let it be known, Chris Evans was a fantastic kisser).
“I—I thought It’d be good for the scene. .” Chris trailed off bashfully, scratching the base of his neck, literally pulling the excuse out of his arse. In actuality, he hadn’t wanted to spare a moment of the scene where he could be kissing you, well, not doing so.
“Bull!” Scarlett exclaimed as she materialised in the doorway. “He just wanted to kiss you.” She told you, pointedly looking at the man.
“Yeah—i—“ He huffed a defeated sigh, pink-cheeked. “I’ve got nothing. She’s right.”
In hindsight, you thought to yourself, you should probably stop being so shocked when the fanbase starts shipping you with your costars.
The clip changed: now it was you, Elizabeth and Aaron on a carpet event together—all being interviewed at the same time.
“So, Y/n, how does it feel to be in a Maximoff twin sandwich right now?” The interviewer giggled happily, smiling.
Before you could open you’re mouth—“we’re really enjoying it.” Lizzie and Aaron replied at the same time.
The interview gaped and you simply rolled your eyes as the two smirked at either side of you, they’d been talking in sync ever since you’d first met them at the table reading.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t why?” Aaron grinned crookedly. “A beautiful, lovely woman in between us. Honestly, love, there’s not a thought in my head besides you.” He joked, throwing an arm over your shoulder.
“I completely support that.” Lizzie chirped in, “ever since I’ve met this gorgeous lady who i now acknowledge as my partner in everything—she’s taken up all of the room in my brain, and I couldn’t be happier.” She giggled, putting her arm around your waist.
In the middle of them both, with an arm over your shoulder and one around your waist—you simply sighed, sparing the giddy interviewer an exaggerated suffering expression.
Again, the clip switched—it was now another blooper of you in the Iron Man movie, the scene where you handed Tony’s arse to him in the boxing ring. Instead of acting as scripted, Gwen Paltrow got up from her seat and strode over to the boxing ring, stepping inside gracefully and planting one right on your lips.
Presently, you giggled as you thought back to this moment. Gwen was your impulsive queen. Your idol.
From the floor, RDJ squawked in shock, exclaiming about being cheated and betrayed and Gwen flung her stiletto off her foot at him without moving from your lips.
When she finally did, she simply smiled at you kindly, “you just looked so good that I couldn’t not kiss you, sweets.” She shrugged and you, on screen, laughed at her as you leaned back in to kiss her cheek.
(Unfortunately the scene was not included in the movie—but Gwen never wasted an opportunity to talk about it, and you, if the chance arose).
The clip moved onto another one—back to the Thor : Ragnarok movie, you and Heimdall were fighting together, however you missed a step in your stunt and ended up stumbling. Idris immediately caught you with a steady arm around your waist, full you to him so you could stabilise yourself.
You smiled up at him thankfully, squeezing his arm in gratitude (totally not because you’d just wanted to feel his bicep).
You watched as your on screen self get distracted again and Idris murmured to Tom who’d now appeared next to him, “I feel like it’s dishonourable how much I want her to fall so I can catch her again now.”
“Mate, trust me,” Tom laughed, “I completely understand. But she doesn’t need the rescuing.”
“That she does not.” Both men smiled fondly as they watched you.
Presently, you were actively refusing to blush.
A different clip started up—Florence Pugh was being interviewed, looking breathtaking in her green dress. “—did you take anything from set?” The interviewer was asking, smiling at Florence.
“Um—not much, just Y/n’s heart.” Florence immediately cracked up at her own joke, smiling widely. “And her underwear too.” She added.
The interviewer opened her mouth to say something more, giggling at Florence as she continued speaking: “and before you ask, no. I wouldn’t be selling, for any price. Finders keepers and all that shite—plus, she’s my girl, so. That rule applies even more so. No one else can take her heart. Or her pants.”
Watching your friend, you giggled at her cheesy smile at her words before getting distracted by your group chat, where multiple of your friends and co-starts had seen your message and were now responding. Your laughter increased tenfold as you opened the thread.
5K notes · View notes
smileysuh · 2 months ago
Text
model cowboy
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🌙 starring. Jeong Jaehyun x afab!Reader
🔮 preview. You maintain eye contact until the moment your lips meet, and then, you do your best to just relax, to forget about the cameras pointed at you. You allow yourself to melt into the kiss, following Jaehyun's motions, following the gentle notes that soon become more heated. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip, and on instinct, you open your mouth for him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to pull him closer.  You try to convince yourself that you’re leaning into this for the sake of the scene, that you’re just being good actors together, but there’s something underneath it all. There’s a desperation. You can almost taste it below the spearmint on his tongue. 
tw/cw. unprotected sex, dry humping, breast worship, slow and adequate foreplay/pussy stretching/prepping, pussy eating, fingering, praise, slight switchy power dynamic but Jae is generally the dom/top, slight overstim, face riding, slight hair pulling, precum (jae is horny), dirty talk, sappy sex, alcohol, etc… I pet names: (hers) superstar.
👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 13.2k
🍭 aus.actor!Jaehyun, singer!y/n, fake dating au, enemies to lovers au, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. it was actually so fun to have small clips of TMZ style gossip reporting- loved that I was able to try different things with this fic :)
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Prologue
In this week's news, our favorite kids' show alumni are back on the scene together. Beloved model and actor Jung Jaehyun teams up with childhood costar (y/n) (l/n) for her new single Model Cowboy. This song will mark the kick-off of her third album, and the music video is set to start production sometime early next month, with the song coming out on iTunes and other streaming platforms sometime in the new year.
There’s a lot of buzz on social media about this pairing, as the two stars were ‘shipped’ incessantly in their teen years, with one user commenting, “It’s like Britney and Justin Timberlake all over again! Ah!!!!!”
While Jaehyun has had a string of relationships over the years, our favorite girl power singer y/n has only recently ended a long-term relationship with football player Lee Jeno. When asked how this separation would affect her new album, y/n had this to say: “I want to draw on the pain of a breakup because that feeling is so universal, but at the same time, I want the album to be fun. It’s about ending one cycle, and sure, giving yourself the space and grace to mourn that loss, but also looking forward at the future and other opportunities that come your way when you go through something like that.”
When asked about the new single Model Cowboy, y/n noted, “It’s about going back to your roots and finding that cowboy, blue-collar man. I think the trades are kind of in vogue right now, for all of the best reasons. We want salt of the earth, we want a man who will provide and take care of us- not everything is luxury and partying. There’s such peace in stability, and I want to honor the simplicity of good relationships, which we all deserve to experience.”
Despite all of this, when our reporters enquired about Jaehyun as the star of the music video, who, to us and many fans on social media, doesn’t scream ‘salt of the earth, cowboy, or stability’ our singer simply responded with “No comment.”
Yikes.
However, there may be hope for this fan-favorite couple yet. When Jaehyun was asked about his role in the music video at a recent film premiere for his new action movie ‘Home Grown’ he had this to say: “I did a few music videos in my early twenties, but never with anyone I really knew or admired. I’ve been focused on movies and fashion recently, but I’m excited to do a shorter-form art piece. y/n and her team are very creative, and I can’t wait to see the finished result.” 
I can safely say that we can’t wait either.
Back when y/n was just eighteen, putting out her first album, there was one song that everyone thought she wrote about Jaehyun. We couldn’t help but bring this up to the actor. When questioned if he’d inspired y/n’s first hit single, ‘Forget About Him’, Jaehyun said, “That’s not for me to say, you’ll have to ask her.” This response revived years of conspiracy on social media, and we’re all still itching for the truth.
Production for Model Cowboy is set for the end of the month, and permits have been granted for shooting in California’s Joshua Tree National Park. We’ll all be on the edge of our seats waiting for promo pictures and behind-the-scenes photos. 
Stay tuned for all things celebrity drama and news on our website, or follow us on Instagram and Snapchat for daily updates. 
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One:
You’re in your trailer with your assistant, Mark, waiting for your call time, and you can’t help the irritation that’s filling you. It’s the first day of shooting for Model Cowboy, and every other time you’ve filmed a music video, you’ve been excited about the creative journey of turning a song into a visual expression- but not today, and there’s one huge reason for your angst.
“I still can’t believe this is happening,” you groan. “Jaehyun wasn’t my first choice for this, and he’ll never be my first choice for this- it takes away from the meaning of the song to have him starring with me!”
Mark frowns. “I mean, he’s not exactly a model cowboy-”
“More like a model pretending to be a cowboy,” you scoff. 
Your assistant sighs. “Management just wants you two to do this, fake date for a while, promote your music and his upcoming projects, draw intrigue-”
“I know it’s what management wants, I was forced to sign the contract,” you snap. Then you release a breath, getting control of yourself. This isn’t Mark’s fault, in fact, he argued your side in the meeting about this two months ago. “I just… I’m not a huge fan of Jaehyun.”
“You always said he was the most overly confident, smug, pretty boy that came out of your kids’ show,” Mark nods. He’s very good at summing up your difficulties, as he’s your most trusted confidant. You’d never dream of being vocal about your personal opinions of Jaehyun to anyone else, your PR training has taught you not to be fully honest, to prioritize your reputation as a ‘good girl’- but Mark, he gets you. 
“At the end of the day,” you sigh, “sure, Jae might be a better actor, but I’m the better singer.”
“I know you won’t want to hear this-”
“Then don’t say it.”
Mark sends you a pointed look. “He did do that cover of ‘I Like Me Better When I’m With You,’ and everyone loved it.”
“Well, Jaehyun doesn’t have three albums and a Grammy. He did a cover. It’s not like that’s difficult.” 
Before Mark can say anything else, there’s a knock on your trailer. You jump up, ready to start the day of shooting, but when you open your door, it’s not a PA standing there to take you to location, it’s Jaehyun.
He’s dressed in a cowboy-style outfit, however, it’s more runway than practical, and he’s also wearing the same smug smile he always used to have on when you were working together as kids and young adults.
“Long time no see,” Jaehyun muses. 
You roll your eyes. “Don’t pretend you’re happy to see me.”
You know your dislike for Jaehyun is shared with his own disdain for you, and you’d noted that to your managers. How are either of you going to pretend to be in love when this general dissatisfaction with each other is evident every time you’re in the same room?
“Thought I’d come to discuss the whole fake dating script with you, you know, kind of like running lines.”
“There aren’t any lines for our fake dating scenario yet, it’s improv,” you remind him.
“Then, how about boundaries?”
You release a groan. “Fuck it, let’s go find my PA, get in a car to go to location, and we can talk during the drive.”
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Two:
There’s a tension in the SUV. With you on his left, your assistant behind you, and Jaehyun’s own manager, Johnny, behind him, everything anyone says will be noted. In fact, Jaehyun’s been listening to Johnny argue on the phone about a brand deal for the past ten minutes.
You’d said you’d discuss the whole fake dating thing, but instead, your eyes are glued to your iPad as you look over the music video notes. 
Jaehyun has always found you to be a very focused woman, he might go so far as to say you have a stick up your ass. Your rigidity is a stark contrast to his own ‘go with the flow’ type of way of doing things, and it’s one of the reasons you’d never gotten along well on sets.
When he’d come to your trailer to discuss PR lines, it had been because he was trying to meet you where you’re at. He thought you’d want to plan. In fact, he’d found it almost laughable when you’d told him it would be improv because out of the two of you, he’s the one that’s always excelled in that area. 
You have this face you put on for others, but Jaehyun’s always seen through it. You lack confidence in yourself, and that’s why you overcompensate by being anal about details, about practicing so you never fail when the time comes. 
Jaehyun leans closer to you, getting a look at the music video notes. The aesthetic board is very desert, horses, sand, sparkles, disco balls, and mirrors- for someone who said Model Cowboy was about finding someone who wasn’t all luxury, there are definitely luxury items in the music video notes. 
“So… tell me again what the song’s about?” Jaehyun asks.
You sigh. “Mark sent you a sound clip, didn’t he? Did you even bother to listen to the song?”
“Yeah,” Jaehyun shrugs, “but I wanted to hear the details from you.”
You take an exasperated deep breath, putting your iPad down on your lap. “It’s about falling in love with someone who’s very salt of the Earth-”
“What do you mean by that?”
Your lips part in shock and annoyance. “It means a man who’s salt of the Earth.” 
“Yeah, you said that, but like…” Jaehyun lets out a small laugh at how bad you’re fumbling this, “what does that mean, to you.” 
Mark shifts in the seat behind you, leaning forward to join the conversation. “It means someone who is honest, and reasonable. Someone who doesn’t think they’re special or better than others.”
You flash Jaehyun a pointed look. “So basically, not you.” 
Jaehyun chuckles. “Baby, neither of us are salt of the earth if that’s your definition.” 
He can see how annoyed you are, can pick up the micro movements, the way your fingers are tapping on the edge of the iPad. It’s a rhythmic thing, something you do to calm yourself, and he’d noticed that pattern in you when you were much younger. 
“This whole fake dating thing was not my idea,” you snap finally.
“Yeah, wasn’t mine either. We both have PR managers.”
You roll your eyes, letting out another exasperated sound of annoyance. 
Jaehyun kind of likes poking at you like this. He’d been worried that you’d be super anal about this whole project, and while you’re definitely fighting for control, he likes to jab you where your guard is down. It feels like a win to him, and deep in Jaehyun’s core, he knows it’s not a nice thing to do, but he simply can’t help himself.
You have a history, years of interactions and bickering- he hasn’t seen you in a long time, but getting on your nerves is as easy as it’s always been, and that schoolboy enjoyment from picking on you is as potent as it ever was. 
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Three:
You’re a couple of hours into your day, and you’re doing some shots with horses now. You’d chosen Hwasa as your director, she’s a visionary in the type of aesthetic you want, and you’ve worked with her numerous times before. She’s very girl power, which is what you love, and you also enjoy the fact that she sees this as a collaboration.
You’ve worked with male directors in the past who think your music video is about showing their vision, and in your early days as a teen, you hadn’t been able to find your voice. Now, as an adult, you have the final say on everything, and Hwasa is the best partner you could think of for a project like this.
The two of you are by the cameras, making sure the shot will be good. The horses are just hanging out with their trainers, and Jaehyun’s a few meters away under the sun tent, waiting for direction.
“So… I’m thinking…” you look at Jaehyun, then at the saddles on the horses, “What if we try a shot with bareback.”
Hwasa casts you a sideways glance. “I mean… visually, I think that would be nicer, it would encapsulate freedom, but at the same time… is Jaehyun skilled enough to mount while bareback?”
“He’s an actor isn’t he?” You turn to look at Jaehyun. God, you can’t wait for him to fall off the horse and eat shit. “Jae!”
He’s sitting in a chair, his head tipped back, cowboy hat obscuring his face. The sound of your voice makes him sit up, his fingers pushing the rim of the hat up so he can look at you.
“Come over here!” Hwasa calls.
He nods, standing then swaggering over to you. He’s having way too much fun in his little cowboy outfit for your liking. “What’s up?”
“How do you feel about trying this scene on bareback?” Hwasa asks.
Jaehyun looks at the two of you, then over at the horse. “We can give it a go.”
You try to hide your smile, God, this is going to be so satisfying.
Hwasa goes to consult with the safety guys and trainers, who take off the saddle, then talk Jaehyun through how to mount a horse without the aid of stirrups. He nods nonchalantly, as smug as ever.
The scene gets ready, with you and Hwasa behind the camera. “Action!” she calls.
Jaehyun approaches the horse. He stops next to it, stroking it’s hair. You watch him get a gentle grip, and then, in one fluid motion, he hoists himself up, swinging his leg over the horse’s back before steadying himself into a seated position. He guides the horse by its hair to make a neat circle, looking like the most skilled cowboy ever, then he turns and flashes you that smug smile of his as Hwasa yells “cut!”
“That was amazing,” Hwasa tells you. “God, Jaehyun was such a good choice for this.”
“Really? How so?” you ask.
“Just, I know he’s not a stereotypical salt of the earth man. He’s not all American, he’s not a cowboy with a five o'clock shadow- this… dichotomy of visuals versus lyrical interpretation, how any man can be the right man if given the chance, despite all these stereotypes-” 
You can feel your expression fall. Sometimes you hate how artsy Hwasa is, with her bachelor's in English and her way with words and interpretations. You can’t argue with her analysis, because if that’s what she gets out of the visual of Jaehyun flawlessly mounting a horse bareback, then that’s her view of it. 
“Do you want to try to mount bareback too?” Hwasa asks, drawing herself out of her musings to focus on the scenes she wants in the time allotted. 
You release a sigh. “I guess we can give it a try.”
“If it’s too dangerous-”
“If Jae can do it, I can too,” you insist, not wanting to be one-upped by him. 
You’re in a long flowy silver dress with a slit up the thigh, and you remove your white overcoat. Jenni, your makeup artist double-checks you, and you’re handed your flashy disco-ball-styled cowboy hat. 
The safety team and trainers give you a talk about how to mount the horse, and after listening carefully, you feel ready to take on the task. 
Your horse is black, and your outfit is meant to be a contrast. It’s a beautiful horse, and when Hwasa calls ‘Action!’ you approach it carefully. You can feel your heart racing in your chest, and you stop next to the large animal, stroking it for a moment while you gain the courage to try to mount it.
As you make the leap, hoisting yourself up- Jaehyun calls out, “Don’t slip!”
And of course, that’s exactly what happens. Your leg can’t get a grip over the horse, you trip up a little with the silky material of your dress, and just like that, you’re back on the ground with two feet, sending a death glare over your shoulder at Jaehyun.
“It was a nice effort!” Hwasa encourages you. 
“Not many people get it on their first try,” a trainer agrees.
You watch Jaehyun smile smugly, and an annoyance unlike any you’ve ever experienced fills you as he meticulously watches you try to complete the scene. 
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Four: 
It’s near the end of your first day of filming. Hwasa had decided on a one day permit for the horses in the desert, opting to get all the scenes involving the large, beautiful animals done in one big go, and now, she’s explaining the final shots she needs to you and Jaehyun.
“So, we’re skipping through the linear timeline a little right now,” your director explains. “This is one of the final shots of the music video, so we’re going to imagine that at this point, the two of you are completely in love.” You and Jaehyun exchange a look. “You’re riding on horseback in the desert. We want bliss, joy, a comfortable kind of peace that comes when you can truly be yourself with another person, a freedom.”
She gazes pointedly at you and Jaehyun.
“I think we can manage,” you scene partner says, but there’s an edge of hesitation in his voice.
“We’re thinking ‘Ride’ by Lana Del Rey, but instead of motorcycles, you’re on horses. Think about how effortless she looked, how devil-may-care,” Hwasa, ever the Lana Del Rey enthusiast, explains. “You know her song ‘Young and Beautiful?’ There’s a line, ‘Hot summer nights, mid July, when you and I were forever wild.’ Do you guys have that?” 
You love that Hwasa enjoys poetic music, it’s one of the reasons you’d been so drawn to her when you wanted to shift out of your role as a child star turned pop icon. Hwasa had been adamant about the Lana Del Rey stylings that she wanted to influence ‘Model Cowboy,’ the American Dream, wild and poetic love. 
However, with all that said, you’d never imagined Lana Del Rey would be tainted by the imaginings of Jaehyun as your lover, and it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 
You’ve already gone over blocking, and Hwasa’s explained the drones and cameras set up to take the shots, so now, all that’s left to do, is get through the day.
Jaehyun can tell you’re lost in thought, he can see the dissatisfied look on your face, but before he can call you on it, Johnny pulls him to the side.
“Good luck with this one,” Johnny muses, patting him on the shoulder. “And don’t fall off your horse, you’ve got to be in Milan in a couple of days for the big Prada show.” 
“Yeah, yeah,” Jaehyun brushes his manager off. “I’ve got this.”
“That’s my little go-getter actor,” Johnny grins, having scored a goldmine when he landed Jaehyun as his client, despite being a very young and new manager in the industry. “Be the Model Cowboy you always wanted to be.”
Jaehyun takes a deep breath before joining you. “You ready?” he asks.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh. 
“Okay guys, we’re in love!” Hwasa bellows. “We’ve got this! And… action!”
Your expression immediately changes, suddenly, you’re grinning, in fact, you’re glowing. It takes a second for Jaehyun to follow your lead, but then, the two of you are playfighting and tickling, laughing like young lovers who are tasting what it feels like to have found their soulmate for the very first time. 
Jaehyun knows the blocking, he knows when to wrap his arms around you after a few feet of chasing, when to lift you up and spin you as you laugh and gently kick. He knows when to set you down, going in for a kiss only for you to break free and dart to your horse, effortlessly swinging yourself up onto the black stallion and taking off.
Jaehyun is right behind you, mounting his own white horse and following.
He does his best to keep an easy going, loving expression, and at first, it’s a little difficult. But, as more seconds of the two of you riding through the desert go by, Jaehyun remembers the way he felt about you when you first met.
You’d been just kids then. Two young teens still growing into your bodies, into your personalities. He remembers how beautiful you’d been, even then, how your smile had lit up the room, as it does now when you turn your head to look over your shoulder at him, making sure the distance between you is still correct.
Of course it’s correct, if you want to be anal, Jaehyun can be anal too, and he’s not going to give you any reason to nitpick after the day he’s had. 
No, Jaehyun’s an actor. He’s a professional.
In fact, he’s a Model Cowboy as he chases you through the desert on horseback. 
God, the way you’re looking back at him- you’ve really grown into your looks, and Jaehyun’s not making things up when he says you’re glowing. The golden hour sun is hitting you just right, and suddenly, Jaehyun’s heart is racing. He feels alive, he feels- as if this whole thing is real. He forgets the cameras for just a few moments, getting lost in the experience of being young, wild, and free, with you. 
Something shifts inside of him, although, Jaehyun’s so enthralled with you that he can’t quite pin what’s just taken place.
The scene is over all too quickly, the two of you making your blocking mark at the bottom of one of the rocky cliff faces that litter Joshua Tree National Park. You slow your horse, coming to a stop, your expression falling.
Jaehyun feels his own smile drop as he stops next to you. He swallows thickly, not knowing quite what to say, so, he decides to note, “Wow, your acting has really improved!”
He means it as a compliment, but your expression turns even more sour, and he knows he’s messed up.
“Well that’s a back handed compliment if I’ve ever heard one,” you scowl.
“I-” Jaehyun’s words get caught in his throat, and he has to swallow a lump just to continue, “I meant it in a good way, I was trying to be nice.” 
“If that was you trying to be nice, it makes sense why you can’t keep a girlfriend for more than a month or so,” you snap.
Jaehyun’s chest hurts, and he stares at you in shock. It’s all the more painful, because in some ways, what you’ve just said is true. He’s used to only dating models, people in the industry who aren’t as successful as he is. He’s only ever entered relationships where there’s a power imbalance, and he supposes in a situation like that, any negative feedback could be biting- yet, it’s different with you.
You’re the one with the power here, and it’s clear you won’t take any criticisms from him. You stand up for yourself, in a way no woman ever has around Jaehyun.
As he watches you lead your horse away, signaling the end of the interaction, Jaehyun realizes maybe he kind of likes that you’re very powerful in your own right. Maybe he likes a woman who can defend herself and doesn’t just take what the world throws at her.
Maybe… just maybe, after all this time, he likes you. 
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Five: 
The locations crew had found a really cool oldstyle cowboy motel for everyone to stay at. It had been relatively inexpensive compared to other filming location lodgings in the past, and renting the whole place, including the mess hall, for four days had been the obvious choice.
You’re sitting with Mark and Hwasa, all three of you have trays of food from the buffet, but none of you are focused on eating. Hwasa has her iPad out, and she’s going through the shots of the day with Mark. You remind yourself when you peak at the screen that there’s still a lot of editing to do, but so far, it’s looking quite good. 
Your stylist, Jenni, is also with you, and she’s capturing the majority of your attention as she shows you pictures of the costumes set for tomorrow. Your long silver dress is being swapped out for a pink palette upscale cowgirl aesthetic, with Jaehyun in creams and blues to match the lighter blush colours. 
You notice Jaehyun walk into the large dining area. He and his manager, Johnny, head straight for the food, and they tilt their heads together, thick as thieves out of ear shot.
When they’re done filling their trays, they begin to head to a table, and that’s when Hwasa calls them over. “Rough shots,” she explains. “Jae, you sit next to y/n and I’ll show you both some of the details.”
You flash Jenni a look, hating that she has to move over for the model to sit.
Jaehyun is awkward as he does so, apologizing to Jenni, which is his only saving grace.
When he settles, your shoulders are touching, and he leans closer to get a look at the iPad that Hwasa is holding. Hwasa doesn’t show all the shots, just her favourites, and you have to admit, the visuals are stunning even before any editing for light and colour.
Then, Hwasa shows you all the footage from the last scene you’d shot, the one with you and Jaehyun playfighting then leaping on horses.
“This is so good,” Hwasa tells you. “You both look so natural on horses, the drone shots are perfect, and the golden hour? Stunning.” 
While all of that is true, you’re more focused on how in love you and Jaehyun look. It’s weird to be seeing you and Jaehyun like this. It’s almost out of body, or doppleganger realm, because how the heck did you manage to look so happy and in love with Jeong Jaehyun of all people?
You feel the actor shift next to you, and you get the sense that he’s uncomfortable with it as well… however, out of the two of you, he has way more experience on screen. You guess you shouldn’t be shocked that he looks very much in love, he gets paid big money to sell those emotions.
“Anyways,” Hwasa sighs, “y/n, tomorrow morning, we shoot sunrise and into the afternoon, then Jaehyun, the latter half of the day is us at the ranch for some more ‘classic’ cowboy scenes.”
“Sounds good,” Jaehyun mumbles. With one last nod of appreciation, he stands up, and it’s as if he can’t get to another table fast enough. 
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Six: 
They’ve been shooting Jaehyun’s cowboy scenes for a couple of hours when he notices your arrival on set. You’re not in the pink costume he’d heard about you wearing this morning, and you’re not all dolled up either.
You’re in a light jacket and jean shorts, a more relaxed look, and yet, you’re still stunning.
You’re next to Hwasa, looking at camera angles and shots, and while you seem to be making a few notes to the director, Jaehyun appreciates that you aren’t trying to micromanage him yourself. 
Shooting continues for another hour, and Hwasa calls a short break so she can figure out what else needs to be done today while they have the ranch.
At first, Jaehyun just goes and grabs a water. Johnny is hyping him up, but the actor is hardly paying attention, his gaze focused on you instead. 
Jaehyun can’t help himself, he walks over to you. You look up from Hwasa like a deer in headlights, and something about it is very endearing. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, can I uh… talk to you for a sec?” Jaehyun asks.
“You know what? Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you nod, “come with me.”
You grab his arm, dragging him away. Jaehyun’s a little confused as to where you’re taking him, and when he finds himself in the privacy of a secluded location behind his trailer, he’s even more confounded. 
“Uh….” he starts, wetting his lips.
“What did you need?”
“I was just… guess I was wondering what you were doing here? Didn’t your shoot finish a couple of hours ago? Figured you’d be getting some rest at the motel.”
“It’s my music video,” you remind him. “Also… management thought it would be good to let tabloids get some shots of us shooting today, that’s why I pulled you over here, we allowed them the field of view to your trailer.”
“So that’s why you took me to such a secluded spot,” Jaehyun grins. 
“It’s the only reason I touched your arm,” you retort.
“Careful, don’t look so angry,” Jaehyun warns you, his hands reaching out to grab your hips and pull you closer. “Wouldn’t want to mess up your tabloid shots.”
You roll your eyes. “Tabloid won’t be on the property till after your last take in an hour or so. Don’t jump the gun, cowboy. After your next scene, you can be as much of a little model slut as you’d like.”
“You think I’m a slut?” Jaehyun asks, shocked that you’re talking to him in this way.
“Am I wrong?”
Jaehyun stands there for a moment, and then, he releases his grip on your hips. “Guess not.”
“So, after you’re done the next scene, we come here, and see if we can pretend to like each other,” you instruct. 
“We just have to be as convincing as we were yesterday,” Jaehyun muses.
You open your mouth to respond, but then you shut it, and Jaehyun’s left wondering what you would have said for the next hour.
He wonders how far you’ll let him take things, and part of him wishes you’d answered his question about boundaries yesterday. This feels like uncharted waters, and his heart is racing when he finally meets you behind his trailer again. 
“Okay,” you sigh. “Do your worst.”
Jaehyun feels himself begin to salivate, and he swallows thickly. There’s no way he’ll do his worst. His worst, would be throwing you against the trailer and having his way with you right here and now- asserting his dominance and seeing if you push back in any way- he suspects you like him more than you let on, after all, Jaehyun’s never met a girl he couldn’t tame.
Life’s hard when you have a stunning face and a hot body to match. 
Jaehyun reaches for your hips, pulling you closer. His skin is tingling with excitement. “I’m going to say something funny, and you should laugh,” he whispers.
You grin broadly, but the expression doesn’t meet your eyes. “Depends on if what you say is funny or not,” you counter. 
Jaehyun’s mind suddenly goes blank. His pick-up lines, his jokes- they all fly out the proverbial window. He doesn’t know what to say, so instead, he begins to lean in-
You turn your head at the last second and Jaehyun’s lips graze past your cheek. He’s a little taken aback at first, but he leans into it, reminding himself that you’d told him to improv. “Is this okay?” he whispers in your ear, still wanting to double-check with you although every fiber of his being is telling him to just do what he wants.
“It’s okay,” you respond, wrapping your arms loosely around the back of his neck. “You’re the actor.”
For some reason, it feels like a compliment that you’re making the distinction between the two of you. You’re right, he’s the actor, and you’re the Grammy award-winning singer.
His lips continue softly on your cheek, and then he adjusts, pressing kisses down to your throat. You shift in his embrace, tilting your head to the side to give him more access.
“Jae-” you warn.
“Just a few more, for the tabloids,” he whispers, nuzzling into your neck moreso than kissing now.
You release a sigh, and with your chests pressed together, Jaehyun can feel your heart racing.
He wonders if you can feel his going a mile a minute too. 
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Seven: 
You eat in your room with Mark, too shaken up by your interaction with Jaehyun earlier to dare enter the mess hall yourself. 
“So, I was just sent the tabloid pictures for final approval,” Mark sighs, joining you on the bed so you can see his phone. “They’ll be up in the morning.”
“Just choose your favourites,” you murmur.
“Uh…” Mark blinks at you. “I really think you should look at them with me.”
You take a deep breath. “Fine.” 
Shifting your gaze to Mark’s phone, he scrolls through the shots, and you hate how natural they look. You and Jaehyun just look good together, and it sets your teeth on edge.
“The cheek kissing is cute,” Mark says thoughtfully. “The way you’re holding each other looks real.” 
It looks too real, in fact.
“I’m just happy we have opposing shoot schedules tomorrow,” you admit with another deep breath. You can see Mark side-eying you, and you hold up a hand before he can respond. “Don’t say a word.” 
“It’s just…” Mark struggles at times to surpass your commands. He’s your assistant first and foremost, but your company also expects him to have somewhat of a managerial role over you, and you know it’s a fight for him to find balance at times. “Everyone has shipped the two of you since you were younger. People say it’s like Britney and Justin in the Mickey Mouse Club House show- then you were teenagers, and you went different directions-” 
“Well, Britney and Justin didn’t end up together, did they?” It’s a rhetorical question, and from the way Mark sighs, he knows it.
“You’re missing the point,” he struggles.
You turn your gaze to him. “Am I?”
Mark releases a breath, dropping the issue. You feel bad shutting him down like this, but at the same time, you don’t want to open the can of ‘Jaehyun’ worms, if you will. No, you’d much rather ignore it for right now.
You’re filming a music video for your new album, and you have much bigger fish to fry. 
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Eight: 
If Jaehyun wasn’t needed for business calls with Johnny today, he might be on set watching you, and Jaehyun can’t get it out of his head as he chills in his motel room and listens to his manager working.
It’s three hours into calls and details before Johnny is able to take a break, and he sets down his phone with a pointed look on his face. “You’re being weird.”
“Am I?” Jaehyun lets out a small laugh, but there’s little humor in it.
“Talk to me,” Johnny says lightly, giving an air of friendship despite the fact that he’s still in his role as manager. “Talk to me about this whole PR, fake dating thing.” 
Jaehyun shrugs. “What’s there to talk about?”
“Those fake tabloid pictures of you and y/n from yesterday on set dropped an hour ago, they’re trending on Twitter,” Johnny points out.
“It’s called ‘X’ now, actually.” 
Johnny narrows his eyes. “I’m never going to call it ‘X.’ It’s fucking Twitter.” 
Jaehyun can’t help but laugh, for real this time. He loves Johnny, loves him for all of his little millennial quirks.
“Honestly?” Jaehyun sighs, feeling his energy sift again. “Y/N’s super uptight, but… she can act like she’s not, and that’s a different side of her that I wasn’t really expecting.” 
Johnny is quiet for a few moments. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go for it.”
“That song from her first album, ‘Forget About Him,’ was that written about you? Is there a past here?”
“Nah, it wasn’t about me,” Jaehyun assures his manager. “As far as I know, she’s never been interested in me like that. We had this other costar, Haechan-”
“Lee Donghyuck?”
“Yeah, him. They uh, I think there was something there between them, for a little while at least.”
Jaehyun can feel Johnny’s assessing gaze, and he averts his own eyes. 
“It almost seems like you’re jealous, Jae.”
“Yeah, well, Haechan never went on to become a brand ambassador for Prada or star in movies, he was just some little child star.” Jaehyun can taste the bitterness in his words, but he can’t help himself. 
“You know who’s not just a child star?” Johnny asks. “Y/N. You two are, without argument, the most successful people to come out of the show you were in when you were younger.”
“We’re both very driven,” Jaehyun admits. “I do admire that about her, she has a Grammy for fucks sake.”  
“What I’m getting from this,” Johnny concludes, “is that you’re completely fine with this whole fake dating arrangement.”
“Well, as my manager, you should know I’m a good actor,” Jaehyun counters.
Johnny laughs. “Sure you are. Tomorrow is the last day of shooting, you’ve got that big kissing scene, I guess we’ll all see how good of an actor you are then.” 
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Nine: 
There’s something comical about the fact that both you and Jaehyun are chewing gum in preparation for your kissing scene. Together, you’re with Hwasa as she goes over the vision for the shot. 
“So, we’re thinking Jae’s going to grab your neck,” Hwasa starts, “gently, of course. More of a cupping the nape of your neck than a grab, actually. It’s going to be slow, a slow exploration of moving closer. Lots of close-ups of the two of you gazing into each other’s eyes. It’s about breaking the distance, about two worlds colliding and connecting in a way that feels natural, unrushed, and just, electric.” 
Jaehyun nods, looking at you. “We can do this.” You wish you were as sure as he sounds right now.
Jaehyun takes out a tissue, and the two of you spit out your gum, disposing the trash before moving into position.
The shot is on the edge of a cliff, with the desert and sunset stretching out like a vast, yellowy-orange ocean behind you. 
It’s as you approach your marked spot that you remember something. “Jae,” you ask softly, “are you still afraid of heights?” 
You watch him take a deep breath, and he nods, standing a few feet from the drop-off. You notice he’s looking everywhere but down, and something inside of you softens for him.
Here you are, worried about the kiss, and here this man is, worried about falling off the edge of a cliff and dying. 
“We’ve got some space between us and the edge,” you tell him, stepping closer. “Here, grab my hips, we’re both steady, we’re not going to fall.”
Jaehyun’s lips part, and you can see the confusion on his face.
You suppose you’ve never been nurturing to him, but you can’t help yourself with this. You don’t mean to be a bitch, in fact, you’d argue adamantly that you’re not a malicious person. Jaehyun just pisses you off a lot, and his behavior generally merits a reaction- but right now, he deserves a bit of peace of mind, and you can see him relax a little as his hands grab your waist.
“Feels more steady?” you double-check.
“Yeah.” He swallows thickly, nodding. 
“We’ve got this,” you assure him.
“Are we ready!?” Hwasa calls.
You flash a thumbs up, turning your attention back to Jaehyun.
“And… action!”
The two of you simply stare at each other for a moment. Hwasa had said she wanted this to be slow. You’re shocked at how exposed you feel looking up into Jaehyun’s eyes. He really is a very handsome man, and he looks so extremely vulnerable right now.
His gaze shifts to your lips, and you allow him to take the lead. One of his hands moves up your body, cupping the back of your neck gently. You can smell the spearmint on his breath, as he moves closer.
You maintain eye contact until the moment your lips meet, and then, you do your best to just relax, to forget about the cameras pointed at you. You allow yourself to melt into the kiss, following Jaehyun’s motions, following the gentle notes that soon become more heated.
His tongue swipes against your bottom lip, and on instinct, you open your mouth for him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to pull him closer. 
You try to convince yourself that you’re leaning into this for the sake of the scene, that you’re just being good actors together, but there’s something underneath it all. There’s a desperation. You can almost taste it below the spearmint on his tongue. 
It feels good to be kissing Jaehyun, and the realization makes you break the kiss, opening your eyes and blinking in an effort to get yourself out of the daze that’s come over you. 
“That was amazing!” Hwasa’s voice is like a slap. “I’ve got some shots, but I’ll need you guys to do it one more time.”
Jesus. 
“You good?” Jaehyun asks.
You nod, swallowing thickly. “Let’s just go again.”
You’re kissing him again all too soon, and this time, it’s like fireworks. Your heart is racing in your chest, your skin electrified as you cling to Jaehyun, diving deeper into the feeling of him.
This time, he’s the one to break the kiss, and he looks away immediately. You notice him breathing heavily, but before you can say anything, Hwasa’s approaching again.
“Okay, that was amazing, and I hate to be that person, but I’ve decided I want drone shots too, so… third time is the charm?” She looks between you and Jaehyun and both of you are quick to nod, although, neither of you has yet found your voice.
“You good?” you ask him as Hwasa goes back to her spot, her main drone lifting into the sky with an electric thrum.
“Yeah, just one more,” Jaehyun says, voice wavering.
The two of you get back into position, and you study Jaehyun carefully. You’re looking at him, truly looking at him, and he’s looking at you with the same fierceness. You can tell something has shifted between the two of you, but at this time, you’re unsure how deep it really is.
He kisses you again on Hwasa’s direction, and you wonder how normal it is to feel this way during a kissing scene with a fellow acting partner.
You’ve never had to do this before, but you know Jaehyun has. He’s been in two or three rom-coms, there must be a way to stay professional after kissing a costar, right? 
But God, he still feels so good.
You’d thought - or maybe hoped - that the first kiss would be a one-off. That the second wouldn’t be as great, and by now, maybe the butterflies would have escaped the cage in your tummy, but no, the feeling surging through you is as powerful and electric as it had been with the first meeting of your lips. 
He leaves you breathless.
Standing on the edge of the cliff with Jaehyun, you realize you’re in deep shit. 
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Ten: 
Jaehyun notices you in the mess hall. You’re looking over food, plating up your dinner, and he decides now is as good a time as any to talk to you. 
He doesn’t mean to be a quiet, sneaky sort of guy, but he can’t help the lightness of his walk. When he goes to stand next to you, saying “Hi,” you practically jump, your food stray scrambling a little as you compose yourself.
“Jesus,” you cuss. “You scared me!”
“Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… uh, the shoot is over, I head to Milan tomorrow-”
“Yup, I know your schedule,” you nod, sighing. “It’s in our contract that I come to your show and be front row to watch you, remember?”
“Right, yeah.” Jaehyun swallows thickly. “So… reporters are going to be asking a lot of questions about us.”
“Uh huh, that was the point of the paparazzi pics.” You continue filling your tray with food, so unbothered and cool in your movements that it makes Jaehyun’s heart beat faster. Are you unaffected by your kiss from earlier? Because Jaehyun can’t get the feeling of your lips out of his mind. 
“I just uh, wanted to say, you can trust me to give the right answers and stuff. I’m PR trained.”
God, Jaehyun wants to strangle himself. He feels so nervous, and the look you give him tells him that you think he’s being a dork. He’s definitely being a dork-
“Okay?” you laugh. “I’m PR trained too, we both took classes when we were kids, remember?” 
“Right,” he’s such an idiot, “yeah. Anyways, I guess… I guess I’ll see you in Milan in a couple of days.” 
“Sounds good.”
With one final nod, Jaehyun leaves you be, and he beats himself up about the awkwardness of the conversation for the rest of the night. 
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Eleven:
In this week's news, our favourite kids’ show alumni were spotted getting close on set. y/n’s new music video, Model Cowboy, is set to be one of the videos of the summer, starring Prada ambassador Jung Jaehyun. The two have a long history, and while there have been rumors about their romantic connection in the past, nothing has ever been confirmed… until now.
TMZ dropped a photo of the two embracing outside Jaehyun’s trailer, and the internet officially broke. #modelcowboy has been going absolutely wild on X. One user wrote: “all my dreams are finally coming true! Thank you mama e papa!” While another took to X to say this: “At first, I didn’t love Jaehyun as the whole ‘model cowboy’ trope. He just doesn’t fit it for me. But I don’t know, something about the pictures of him and y/n just feels right- guess you don’t need a history as a rancher to be a cowboy, he’s definitely lassoed my heart.“
So far, the general consensus around our new ‘It Couple’ is that it’s been a long time coming. While there’s no official confirmation about their relationship, one of our reporters caught Jaehyun after a show in Milan last night. When asked about their time shooting the music video together, the actor/Prada ambassador had this to say about y/n: “She was amazing. The whole experience [filming Model Cowboy] went without a hitch. She’s super talented, one of the most driven women I know, and I can’t wait to see how this music video pans out for her.”
When asked about the pictures of the two of them that have been trending, Jaehyun said: “I mean, she’s beautiful, she’s an icon- who wouldn’t want a chance with her?” When the reporter clarified by asking if they’re dating, Jaehyun noted, “You’ll have to ask y/n, I’d never be ‘that’ guy who would speak for a powerful woman like her.” 
All we can say is damn, that’s a green flag if we’ve ever seen one. 
Stay tuned for all things celebrity drama and news on our website, or follow us on Instagram and Snapchat for daily updates. 
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Twelve: 
There’s nothing like the closing night of a show. Jaehyun feels elated, he feels on the top of his game, like nothing could bring him down. 
“You were amazing,” another model tells him, fluffing her hair up with her hand as the two of them decompress backstage. 
“You were amazing, Vivienne,” he retorts, never feeling more giddy and boyish than he does now. 
“I’m good, but I’m not model of the year good,” she grins. 
“You’re still new,” Jaehyun assures her, although, pride is swelling through him.
He sees her skin flush, her eye lashes fluttering at him-
“Jae?” your voice draws him out of his assessment of Vivienne, and he turns in shock to find you standing there.
You look stunning, your stylist team has really outdone themselves with your looks for the past couple of days- but there’s a sour set to your lips that immediately tells him something is wrong.
“Y/N?” he asks.
“Am I… interrupting something?” your gaze shifts to Vivienne, and Jaehyun immediately understands what’s going on.
“Excuse us,” he says to Vivienne, grabbing your hand to tug you a few feet away. His voice lowers when he asks, “Are you jealous right now?”
“No,” you retort immediately. “What reason would I have to be jealous?”
You’re making a big show about the notion of jealousy being ridiculous, but Jaehyun knows he’s hit the nail on the head. 
“No reason at all,” Jaehyun assures you, and he truly means it. He knows this whole dating this is a PR move, but he hasn’t been able to get you out of his head all week. Every time he’s walked past you sitting front row at the shows- well, he’s been feeling butterflies in a way that he’s hardly been able to admit to himself. “Hey, listen-”
“No, you listen,” you cut him off. “Your show is over, we both fly different places tomorrow morning, management will set our schedules to keep up this whole fake dating thing, I just wanted to say goodbye before I go back to my hotel.” 
“Oh, right.” Jaehyun can feel his heart sink in his chest. “Uh… where are you staying?”
“I’m at the Four Seasons.”
“Do you maybe want to get drinks later or something?” he asks.
“I’m sure you have after parties to go to with your… model friends.” Your gaze shifts to Vivienne again, and that same sour twist to your lips appears.
Jaehyun wants to reassure you, but- the words just aren’t coming. Besides, what would he even say? We’re fake dating but I’ve been rethinking our entire dynamic since we kissed and now I’m not so sure I want it to be fake, because I’m actually really into you, and all of our bickering in the past has been because I’m jealous of your driven nature and I’ve seen you as competition but now I see that we can do more together than apart?
It feels like a lot of word vomit, and Jaehyun’s not about to projectile all of that at you right now. He doesn’t want to look stupid again, doesn’t want to feel like an idiot. He’s scared of rejection, in a way he’s never been scared of it before. 
Instead, dejected, he just nods. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Okay, so you go have fun, I’m going back to my hotel, and like I said, I’ll see you when I see you.”
Jaehyun watches you leave, and suddenly, the high from the fashion show has depleted. No one has ever had this kind of hold on his emotions before, and Jaehyun knows he’s going to have to do something about it, he just doesn’t know what. 
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Thirteen: 
“Jeeze, Mark, I told you, I’m going to bed-” Your words cut off as you open your hotel door and find Jaehyun, not Mark, standing there.
“Uh… Hi?” Jaehyun smile sheepishly, and you look him up and down.
He’s in a form fitting suit, but it looks somewhat ragged. His shirt is unbuttoned haphazardly, his hair a little fussed, and his cheeks are flushed pink. 
“What are you doing here?” you ask.
“Well, I went to the afterparty, like you told me to, but… I don’t know, I just felt bad about how we left things.”
You’re shocked at how candid he’s being, and you don’t see a hint of dishonestly in his body language. “Have… have you been drinking?” you question next.
“Just a little,” he admits. “Can I…” Jaehyun looks around the hallway outside. “Can I come in?”
“I should really be going to sleep soon-”
“Yeah, I heard, Mark’s been on your ass,” Jaehyun nods, swallowing, “but uh…” he leans forward, voice lowering, “What’s that pipsqueak going to do about you staying up just a little later? I mean, you can sleep on your flight tomorrow, can’t you?” 
Yeah, Jaehyun is drunk. “Did you just call Mark a pipsqueak?” you ask in shock.
“So what if I did?” He grins lazily. 
“Jae-”
“y/n.”
You sigh. “Come in, sit down, and let me grab you some water.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His smile is much too large for your liking as he enters your hotel room, going to the couch like a good boy. 
You can feel his eyes on you as you get him a bottle of water from the fridge, moving to join him. “Here.”
“Thanks.” He unscrews the cap as you sit down, taking a large gulp.
“So… what’s this about?”
He’s still drinking the water, like a child after a marathon, just drinking and drinking with small stops to gasp for air- you can’t help but laugh a little, watching with amusement.
Jaehyun finishes the entire bottle. “So-” He takes a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize.”
“For what?”
“Making you jealous earlier.”
“What?” You’re in shock. “I was not jealous.” 
“You were, and it’s okay.” He places his hand on your knee and you look down at it then up at him questioningly. “I was jealous of you and Haechan back in the day, but the difference is, I wasn’t hitting on Vivienne, I was just trying to be nice to her, you know, as male model of the year and everything.”
“Jae-”
“I wasn’t hitting on her,” he says again, expression turning firm. “You’re my girlfriend and I’d never, ever do that to you.”
“I’m not your girlfriend.”
“Contractually, you are,” Jaehyun insists. “I can be a good boyfriend to you, if you let me try.”
He’s leaning in now, and you grab a pillow, haphazardly shoving it between the two of you so he can kiss that instead.
“Jae!” You hop off of the couch, heart racing.
“Shit, sorry, you’re just- God, have I ever told you that you glow?” Jaehyun looks up at you with an expression you’ve never seen on him, it’s almost like admiration.
“What are you even saying?”
“You glow. You light up the room. You just- you sparkle, even without disco balls and diamonds.”
You wrap your silky night robe tighter around your body, feeling self conscious. “I don’t glow.”
“You do,” he insists. “Even when we were younger. I think- I think part of me always worried your glow would diminish mine, if that makes sense- but, but after seeing some of the footage from the music video, I see that, now that we’re older, when we do stuff together, when we’re not competing, we can glow together.”
So he’s like… very drunk.
But… haven’t you always heard that drunk words are sober thoughts?
You look down at him, and it feels like you’re seeing him in a new light. 
“Jae?” you question.
“Yes?”
“What’s going on?”
“When we kissed that day on set, I felt something.”
“Are you… not used to feeling things?” you ask.
“Not feeling things like that,” Jaehyun corrects. “I mean, butterflies, sparks, you know, corny rom com shit.”
Your stomach flips, heart beginning to beat faster in your chest- so he’d felt the connection too.
“Look, okay, this is going to be embarrassing if you reject me, but, fuck it, I want to get this all off my chest.” Jaehyun takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his silky hair to steady himself. “I like you. I think, a part of me has always liked you, but, I also used to see you as competition. Now that we’re older, now that we’re both successful, I don’t see you that way anymore- and before you think that’s another backhanded compliment, I just mean, you’ve won Grammys. You’re- a fucking star. And I think… maybe I’ve grown to the point where I can accept other people’s successes without seeing it as a diminishment on my own.”
You’re surprised he can speak this well and use big words while clearly feeling the effects of alcohol, and even more than that, you’re surprised by the context of what he’s saying. 
Jeong Jaehyun thinks you’re a star. He recognizes your hard work and your success. He’s not just some smug asshole looking down at you, he’s actually seeing you, and maybe… maybe you’re beginning to see him. 
“I appreciate the compliment of what you’re saying,” you tell him, picking your own words carefully. 
“There’s that PR training,” Jaehyun winks. “You’re cute. Glowy, little, cute, superstar. Maybe that’s what I should call you, my little superstar, the media would eat it up.”
“That’s your PR training,” you laugh. 
“We can’t help it,” he smiles up at you.
“Can I say something without you getting upset?”
“I’ll do my best,” Jaehyun promises solemnly.
“I want to start by saying this isn’t a rejection,” you clarify, “I just wish you would have told me all of this while sober, instead of showing up at my apartment near midnight before we both fly out of town in the morning.”
“I can see that,” Jaehyun nods. “I guess, you kind of scare me.”
“I scare you?” you laugh. 
“Uh huh.” He swallows thickly. “Like heights.”
He’s so adorably dorky for a famous actor and Prada brand ambassador.
“But- on that cliff that day, when we kissed, and you reassured me, and you let me hold your hips- I don’t know, it was nice. I- thanks, thanks for doing that.”
“I can be quite nurturing if I think someone deserves it,” you tell him. “Which, speaking of, you’re still drunk, and you downed that whole bottle of water, I think I should get you another, and maybe we can move somewhere more comfortable.”
“Like.. the bedroom?” There’s a glint in his eye, and it makes you scoff.
“Get your mind out of the gutter Jae, you can stay on this couch for all I care.”
“I’ll be good,” he promises, crossing his heart haphazardly.
“Come on.” You hold your hand out for him and Jaehyun takes it, allowing you to help him to his feet. You go get another bottle of water and the two of you move to the bedroom. The mattress is substantially more comfortable than the couch, and Jaehyun releases an audible moan as he clammers down onto it.
You get situated, moing under the covers so you feel less exposed.
“I like it when you’re nice like this,” Jaehyun sighs.
“I’d be nicer if you didn’t always tease me.”
“You like it when I tease.”
“I actually hated it when you told me not to slip as I was getting onto the horse during the shoot, and it completely made me mess up and slip,” you point out, still irritated by that ordeal.
“Okay, to be fair, yes, I’m sorry, but also, your dress was silky as fuck, you were going to slip even if I didn’t say anything, and that’s not your fault, it’s Jenni’s for not giving you better clothes to actually ride a horse with.”
He has a point there.
“So…” Jaehyun switches topic, his demeanor getting more anxious, “back on the couch, you said you weren’t rejecting me… can you… can you explain what that meant.”
“It meant I’m not rejecting you.”
“And salt of the earth means salt of the earth,” Jaehyun retorts, rolling his eyes. “Can you give me a Mark style explanation on what you meant.”
“I meant…” you think about it for a second. “I like you too, I think you might be more into me than I’m into you at the moment-”
“Oh yeah?” he counters, crossing his arms over his chest and getting pouty.
“Yeah,” you laugh.
“Fine, okay, maybe,” Jaehyun concedes. “But?”
“But… I’m willing to explore something with you.”
“Yeah?” His expression brightens. “Really?”
“We’d just have to sort out details, you know- we’re on contract for three or so months, so, if we gave it a real go, and things ended before our contract, how would that even work? There are limitations to having a relationship with someone you work with.”
Jaehyun looks down at the water bottle in his hands, clearly thinking it through. “We can… take it slow? I mean, we’d have to, since we both have different schedules and will be in different countries tomorrow.”
“Slow could work,” you agree. 
The two of you stare at each other for a moment, and you almost think he’s going to lean in for a kiss again, and then he asks, “What did happen with you and Haechan? Your first single was about him, right?”
You release a laugh, if this is really a can of worms he wants to open, then you suppose you can let him open it.
You begin to explain to him your history with Haechan, and Jaehyun listens intently. Somehow, he gets the ball rolling on your recent relationship with Lee Jeno, and before you know it, two hours have passed with the two of you just discussing past relationships.
Jaehyun tells you about his own ex’s, about his lack of accountability and emotional maturity. He gives voice to all the trouble spots you’ve identified about him in the past, and clarity on his hopes for being better in the future.
He also noticeably sobers up, which makes you feel a lot better about having this sort of intimate conversation with him.
Soon, you’re both just laying in bed facing each other, talking about everything and anything. “Do you remember that time the catering company on set changed?” Jaehyun asks.
“Oh my god, yeah, when the higher ups wanted more vegan and vegetarian options, and it was just like, raw fruit and veggies with store bought hummus?”
“Jaemin wasn’t used to eating anything that wasn’t carbs or meat and in the middle of a take he had to run to the bathroom?” Jaehyun adds.
“Shat his pants and everything, pissed wardrobe off in a way I’ve never seen,” you giggle. “What ever happened to him?”
“I don’t keep up with many of our old castmates,” Jaehyun admits. “But I think he’s some radio show host or something now, has a segment about embarrassing first dates and stuff.”
“He always loved messy gossip,” you sigh, happy to be reminiscing in this way.
There are only a handful of people who can understand what it was like to be on a kids show in your early teens, only a few others in the world you could possibly have this conversation with.
Despite your differences, you and Jaehyun come from the same place, and it makes it easy to talk to him.
Jaehyun’s staring at you, and he pushes a strand of hair out of your face. “Should I let you sleep?” he asks. “It’s two AM.”
You’re hardly tired at this point, and now that Jae’s sober… and in your bed… your own mind has found its way into the gutter, and you’re not quite sure what to do about that.
“Can I be honest with you?” you ask.
“Always.”
“I haven’t gotten laid in a long time,” you sigh. “And… we’re flying to different places tomorrow, so maybe it’s not the best idea I’ve ever had-”
“It is,” Jaehyun interrupts you. “The best idea you’ve ever had.” You shoot him a look and Jaehyun laughs, back tracking. “I mean, your lyrics and albums are great ideas too- but I just mean… If you’re horny, then you’re horny, and I’m, well, here.” 
“I just don’t want you to feel taken advantage of.”
“Even if you’d tried to fuck me when I first walked in here, all drunk and being stupid, it still wouldn’t have been taking advantage of me.”
“I think fucking someone while they’re drunk is one of the most obvious scenarios of taking advantage of someone,” you counter.
“Okay, true, but- you know what I’m saying.” Jaehyun flashes you a knowing look. “If you want me to fuck you, I’ll fuck you.”
“That’s so romantic,” you roll your eyes. 
Jaehyun laughs, and then he sits up, looking down at you. “If you want romance, we can go shower together or something. I could… romantically wash your body, and tell you how perfect you are-”
“It’s two am, fuck that. Just kiss me.”
Jaehyun grins, then he leans over you, staring into your eyes. He’s moving slower than you thought he would, and part of you wishes he’d just ravage you like some primal animal- but no, he’s acting like he did in your music video. You can practically see adoration in his eyes, and his hand comes up to cup your cheek in a way that’s almost loving. 
“I meant it when I said that you glow,” Jaehyun says softly.
“I know you did,” you breathe, grabbing the back of his neck to draw his lips to yours.
It’s odd how familiar the two of you already are. The kiss isn’t awkward at all, but then again, your first kiss hadn’t been either.
Neither of you are trying to dominate it, you’re moving slowly, reading each other’s body language and cues. 
When his tongue gently licks your lip, you open your mouth for him, drawing him closer as the kiss deepens. 
Jaehyun shifts in your embrace, and then he’s moving to be between your legs, which spread for him. He’s on top of you now, elbows digging into the pillows while you make out like teenagers in love for the first time.
He just feels so good. 
For a long time, you’ve felt like an anxious person. You have a lot of weight on your shoulders, but when you’re kissing Jaehyun, that pressure feels lifted. Your mind goes blank as the two of you make out, your body at the forefront instead of your thoughts. 
Jaehyun slowly begins to grind down against you, and the gentle pressure on your clit has you groaning against his lips.
You feel him smirk, and then he begins to kiss down your throat, taking his time to suck gently on your skin.
One of his hands slides up your thigh, teasing the waistband of your sleeping shorts before moving back down again. He’s so warm, and you hips push up for more stimulus.
“Jae-” you whimper, threading your fingers in his hair.
“Slow, or fast?” he asks, pulling away from your throat to look down at you.
“A bit of both.”
He cocks his head to the side.
“Fast to get my clothes off, slow to explore, then make me cum,” you clarify.
Jaehyun laughs. “Whatever you want, superstar.”
Your skin tingles at the nickname, and your pussy throbs as Jaehyun begins to remove his clothes. Each button feels like an eternity to get undone, but when he slips the fabric off, you find yourself practically drooling.
He has such a perfect body, not too lean, not too muscled, just perfect. 
Then, Jaehyun begins to take off your robe and you sit up to help him. Soon, your shirt is being tugged over your head, and your nipples immediately pebble at the cool air of your hotel room.
You lay back down, staring up at him while Jaehyun takes in your body.
“Glowing,” he whispers, cupping your breast and rubbing his thumb across your nipple. 
You whimper at the sensation, and his eyes move up to your face. He’s grinning at you. “Sensitive?” he asks, gently pinching the bud.
You groan, shifting against the bed. “Yeah.”
“I’ll take care of you,” Jaehyun promises, leaning down to kiss you again.
He begins to descend to your throat again, but this time, he goes even farther down, making it to your chest. The first flick of his tongue against your nipple has you whining, and you thread your fingers through his hair again, closing your eyes to enjoy the sensation.
He continues to suck on your breasts, paying attention to both nipples. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the second, and you’re torn between loving the feeling of this and wanting something more.
It’s as if he reads you, because he pulls away from your chest, hooking his fingers in your shorts. You both adjust to allow him to get you fully naked, and then he lays down between your legs. He presses kisses along the sensitive flesh of your thighs, looking up at you.
There’d been a time in your life when you hadn’t loved eye contact during pussy eating, but there’s something so erotic about the way Jaehyun’s watching you as he brings his mouth to your core.
He kisses your clit gently, and you watch as his eyes close, his tongue swiping up your folds to taste the wet that has accumulated there.
He groans, delving deeper with his tongue, his large hands grabbing your thighs as an anchor as he begins to devour you. 
Has anyone ever eaten you out like this? Jeno wasn’t much of a giver unfortunately, and it feels like forever since you’ve had someone doing to you what Jaehyun is currently doing.
Your entire body feels alive, with each flick and suck- You’re clutching at the blankets now, moaning desperately as he works you up faster than any man before him ever has.
You guess you hadn’t put a time limit on making you cum. You’d told him fast to undress, which he did, slow to explore, which he also did- and now, it seems he’s intent on making you cum on his tongue, which is something you have no issues with.
“Jae-” you whimper, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair.
He looks up at you and you begin to move your hips, riding his face. He stays still, letting you use him, and you can tell from the groan he releases that he kind of likes you taking control in this way.
“I’m close,” you tell him. “Please make me cum.”
Jaehyun’s fingers dig into your thighs, and then he’s back at it. He takes lead again, sucking your clit into his mouth while you cry out and grab the sheets with your free hand.
Your eyes close, your back arching a little as he works you closer and closer to the edge.
It’s a steady build of pleasure, and then, you’re tipping over. You release a strangled gasp as ecstasy courses through you like electric shocks from the tip of your head down to your toes and fingers.
You can feel your pussy contracting with pleasure, a steady rhythm that prolongs the sensation. Jaehyun continues to suck on your clit, helping you through everything until you’re a gasping mess.
He relents, and you can hear him sit up. Your eyes are still closed, one hand now haphazardly thrown across your eyes as you try to catch your breath.
The sound of Jaehyun’s pants hitting the floor draws your attention, and you look up to find Jaehyun standing there in all his glory.
“Still want to do this?” he asks.
“Get over here,” you command, opening your arms for him.
Jaehyun flashes you a grin, then he rejoins you on the bed.
Your lips are meeting a moment later. It’s not a gentle slow exploration anymore, but a hungry, lust fuelled haze. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it turns you even more. You wrap your legs around his hips, tugging him closer.
His cock rubs between your pussy lips and you whimper, reaching between yourselves to line him up- Jaehyun takes your hand, moving it aside. Then, two fingers enter your soaked core and you groan against his lips.
“Gotta prep you,” Jaehyun muses. “You said you haven’t been fucked in a while.” 
“Don’t tease though,” you warn gently, looking up at him.
“Never.” He kisses you again, drowning out the anxious thoughts as he finger fucks you, spreading his fingers and working you open in preparation for his cock.
Jaehyun begins to curl his digits, hitting the sensitive spot inside of you that has you groaning. You break the kiss to burrow your face against his throat, panting as he draws more and more pleasure out of your already exhausted body.
You feel something drip on your upper thigh, and you look down to see the precum leaking out of Jaehyun’s tip. “Sorry,” he groans, “I’m just, super turned on right now.”
“Then fuck me,” you insist, biting at his earlobe. “I’m prepped now.”
“You sure?”
“We’re both dripping, Jae, just fuck me.”
“You got it, superstar.” Jaehyun grins as he kisses you. He finger fucks you a little more and then he pulls his digits out of your wet core. You watch him sit up, licking his fingers clean, then he grabs the base of his cock.
He presses the tip into you, looking up to watch your reaction. When you release a moan, Jaehyun grins. He steadies over you again, his biceps bulging as his lips meet your own. He pushes deeper inside of you, taking it slow until his hips are flush against yours.
You both groan at the feeling.
“See?” you gasp. “Told you I could take you.”
“Taking me so well,” Jaehyun agrees, his breath hot against your throat as he begins to pepper your skin with kisses.
Jaehyun’s hips start to move, and he fucks you gently at first, allowing your inner walls to get used to the size of him. His kisses distract you as he opens you up, his pace increasing.
You release a loud moan when the tip of his cock hits a deep spot inside of you, and you can feel Jaehyun grin against your throat. “Right there?” he asks, doing the motion again. “Is that the place?”
“Yeah,” you whimper, nodding. “Right there.”
Jaehyun brings his lips to your own, and he kisses you deeply as he continues to abuse that special spot. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, keeping him close as he fucks you. God, you’re so lost in him, in the best possible way.
You never miss out on beauty sleep, but Jaehyun is more than worth it.
“Superstar?”
“Yeah?” you ask, half delirious.
“Would it be bad if I asked you to ride me?” 
“Huh?”
“I just- I could still fuck up into you, but I don’t know, I kind of want to see you on top.”
“Really?” you look up at him in shock. “You strike me as a man who likes to have control.”
“Says the woman who likes to have control,” he counters with a grin. “Or… do you just want to be my pillow princess?”
You consider it for a moment. “You know what, yeah, let me get on top, I want to watch you when you cum.”
Jaehyun physically shivers from your words, and you watch his pupils dilate with interest. “Fuck,” he groans. “Yeah, get on top.”
It’s a quick adjustment, with Jaehyun dragging you onto his lap. You sit down on his cock and both of you groan at the feeling. He’s completely inside of you like this, and you press your hands to his chest, steadying yourself for a moment.
Then, you begin to bounce.
Jaehyun throws his head back against the pillows, moaning deeply.
Fuck, he’s so hot like this.
There’s something so erotic about being on top, on knowing that you’re going to be riding him when he cums.
Your whole relationship has been about competing for power, and now, in the midst of one of the most vulnerable exchanges of power, Jaehyun had stopped from his position on top to give you the opportunity to be in control.
You like that. You like it a lot. 
It shows he hadn’t been lying when he’d talked about the two of you glowing together, and it gives you a newfound kind of hope for whatever relationship is budding between the two of you.
You ride him harder at the thought, and his hands find your hips, helping you bounce.
“Fuck, fuck-” Jaehyun groans, his fingers digging into your skin. “Feels so good.”
In all honesty, the first position had felt better for you, when he was doing all the work, but you’d never admit that to him, especially not while deep in the throes of passion like this. He’d already made you cum, and now, you want to return the favour.
You ignore the burning in your thighs, fucking Jaehyun in a way you’ve never fucked a man before. You can feel the power of it bubbling inside of you, and you focus on his expression, on the pleasure that’s written all over him.
“Jae,” you groan, “want you to cum for me.”
“Don’t-” he swallows thickly. “Don’t you want me to hold out a little longer?”
“It’s our first time, we have flights tomorrow,” you retort. “Just let go, I wanna feel it.”
“You and your scheduling,” Jaehyun laughs, but it quickly turns into a groan, his eyes closing again. “Fuck, okay, but you have to let me make it up to you sometime.”
“Next time we see each other we can spend hours fucking,” you tell him.
“Promise?”
“I promise, now be good and cum for me, yeah?”
Jaehyun shivers again, and there’s a slight look of confusion on his face. You get the sense that he’s not used to being talked down to like this- but it’s clear it turns him on in a new, foreign sort of way.
“Okay, yeah.” Jaehyun anchors himself against the bed, and then he begins fucking up into you, his muscles rippling under his perfect skin. “Shit, fuck-”
You watch the pleasure build in him, until he reaches his peak. The tension clearly snaps, and he lets out a deep groan that goes straight to your core.
You continue to ride him, intent on helping him through it-
Jaehyun grabs you and pulls you down to his chest, holding you still as he shoots his load deep in your pussy. He’s groaning in your ear, hips twitching-
God, you love the way you’re pinned like this, the way he’s cumming so hard he needed you to just stop. 
You allow him to finish, and his grip slowly lets up on you. He’s no longer using his strength to keep you still, he’s just holding you, the two of you panting desperately.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah,” you mumble.
“That day, behind my trailer, the first time I held you,” Jaehyun clears his throat, “could you feel my heart racing the way it is now?”
“I was more focused on my own heart,” you admit.
“Yeah?”
“It was going pretty fast.”
Jaehyun releases a laugh, holding you tighter. “Guess we were both in for it, huh?”
“Guess so.” 
Jaehyun holds you a little while longer, and then he sighs. “I should let you get your beauty sleep.”
“Yeah, but you can stay over if you want.”
“Really?”
“Could you imagine how much people would react if the paparazzi got a picture of you leaving my hotel tomorrow morning?”
Another chuckle escapes him. “You and your PR training.”
“You love it,” you insist.
Jaehyun releases a sigh, burying his face closer to your throat. “I do love it.” 
You’re from the same world, the same industry, and no one has ever understood you or your job the way Jaehyun does.
Wrapped in his arms, the two of you set to fly to different countries in just a couple of hours, something about him just feels so right.
You’ve spent your whole life trying to be someone else for other people, for your management team, for your fans- but with Jaehyun, maybe you can just be exactly who you are, professional obligations and all.
He’d said it himself, he’d seen your glow from the moment you met, even as awkward kids on a tv show trying to make names for yourself. He’d seen your sparkle before you’d even seen it in yourself, and now, maybe he’s right. Maybe you can learn to glow together.
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☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I kind of loved working on this au, I know it's not classical 'he's an actual cowboy' but I really loved working with Jae as this character
🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 
🔮 preview. You’ve been in love before, but it was always different. You were always with men who saw you as a prize. They put you on a pedestal, and it was often one sided with genuine empathy. You were a support in their lives, as opposed to a form of mutual understanding.But Jaehyun understands you, so you can confidently say he’s the sweetest love you’ve had.
cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, worship kink, substantial foreplay/prep, fingering, squirting, multiple reader orgasms, overstim, dirty talk, praise, man handling, anal (thumb in the butt), etc…   I petnames. (hers) superstar. 
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.4k I teaser wc. 180
🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader
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bonus
“Wow,” you breathe, staring out at the crowd as you clutch the Grammy in your hand. “I can honestly say, I never expected this award. To win Best Music Video, I just- I’m in shock. I want to thank my parents, my label, my team of wonderful people, production, styling, Hwasa, who directed the video, and Mark, my manager. I want to thank my fans especially, I wouldn’t be anywhere without you. And, I also want to thank my amazing scene partner, Jaehyun. I know a lot of people were confused about Jae being the Model Cowboy, but he showed up to set, and something just clicked. We made magic with this one, and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Thanks again, wow, thanks.” 
You’re practically shaking as you make your way off the stage to go rejoin your group of people in the audience. Hwasa and Mark both give you a hug, and Johnny pats you on the back. When you reach Jaehyun, he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight as he presses kisses along your face.
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general taglist
@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling
@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 
@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii
@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven
@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf
@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee
@learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy
@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono
@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas - @sourkimchi
svt taglist
@candidupped - @cheolussy - @aaniag - @imprettyweird
@xcynthiaaa
thanks to those who interacted with the teaser! 37
@lostmembrane - @tarap97 - @jaeymark - @mingcouper
@va1entinesday - @froggyforhyuck - @bobathi - @btsreadss
@ever1astinglove - @amazinggraxia - @sunflowerhc - @hqech
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