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pathologicalreid · 4 hours ago

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christmas (baby please come home) | s.r.

in which Spencer isn't home to put his kids to bed on Christmas Eve, but they wake up to a surprise on Christmas morning

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: spencer's first post prison christmas, frankensteined the plot of "surface tension", the same family as "here with me", crying, christmas word count: 3.19k a/n: merry christmas!! this is kinda like my gift to you, mostly since it's been sitting in my brain for forever!!!!!!! i love u all! also happy first day of hanukkah if you celebrate <33

“But Daddy’s not home,” your daughter whimpered as she shuffled under her covers, she looked up at you with wide, curious eyes.

You carefully smoothed out the top of her floral comforter, “I know, baby,” you whispered, reaching up to pinch her cheek affectionately. You’d let them stay up late to watch the Santa tracker, but eventually, Finn fell asleep on you, and Livvy’s yawns were enough to convince you that it was bedtime. “You still have to go to sleep. Santa will come whether Daddy’s home or not, and we’ll just do the gifts from Mommy and Daddy when he gets back.”

At three years old, Olivia was beginning to understand Spencer being gone the same way Eleanor did; she knew his absence was entirely out of her control, and that didn’t sit well with your middle child. You knew you had gotten incredibly lucky when Spencer had been home for Finn’s birthday and Livvy’s had fallen during his sabbatical, but you also knew that you were due for a missed holiday, you just wished it could’ve been Thanksgiving or New Year’s.

You kissed her forehead before leaving, making sure to leave the door open a crack so the monsters wouldn’t get her before you went to Nell’s room. “Hey, honey,” you whispered, closing your eldest’s door behind you before going to sit on the edge of her bed. She had her own Christmas tree set up in the corner of the room, the artificial purple tree providing the glow that her nightlight normally would. “Are you ready for bed?”

Nell was lying on top of her covers, staring at her still ceiling fan as she ignored your question. While Livvy was just starting to understand what it meant when Spencer was gone, Nell understood it best, and she had for years now. She’d understood when Spencer was in prison, and she understood that he was missing Christmas now.

Slowly, you laid down next to your daughter, propping your head up on the bed and smoothing her hair back. “It’s still Christmas,” you tried to reassure her, but part of you knew that it was a thankless effort, there was nothing you could tell her that would fix her father’s absence. “We can call Dad in the morning while we open presents,” you offered, hoping she’d appreciate you coming halfway. “If he’s not busy, maybe we can video chat, and you can show him everything Santa brought you.”

“It’s not the same,” she told you, furrowing her brows and turning away from you on the bed.

Sighing, you pressed a kiss to the back of her head, “I know, Nellie. I know it’s not fair that he doesn’t get to be here for Christmas, but Daddy will come back.” There was a sense of urgency in your voice; you were afraid that if your five-year-old lost the joy in Christmas, you’d somehow failed her as a mother. “He’ll be home for your birthday, I promise,” you whispered.

“You can’t promise,” she reminded you, knowing that you and Spencer were generally very specific about your promises, leaning toward the ‘I promise I’ll try’ variety.

You hummed in response, “I’d pinky promise you that. Dad will be home for your birthday.” You held up your pinky finger, waiting for her to roll over and reciprocate.

Eleanor rolled over, holding up her pinky finger while brown eyes watched you apprehensively, “Okay,” she breathed, hooking your fingers together and kissing them.

As soon as Spencer told you about the bureau’s contingency to him returning to the BAU, you’d done the math. Eleanor’s sixth birthday would fall near the beginning of his next sabbatical, so you didn’t hesitate to make this promise. “It’s time for bed, my girl,” you whispered, smiling at her softly as she pulled the sleeves of her Christmas pajamas over her hands. “Santa can’t come if you’re not asleep,” you reminded her, sitting up on the bed and getting up, tucking her purple comforter under her chin before you made your final stop of the night.

You’d brought Finn to his room before getting the girls settled, but now that you knew they were alright, you came back to his room. The white noise machine was going, and he was fast asleep in his crib. His pacifier, which you were trying to wean him off of, had fallen from his mouth and onto the sheets, so you set it to the side. To you, the second Christmas was always more exciting than the first, now that he was fourteen months old, he had the dexterity to help open presents.

Ruffling his hair, you kissed him goodnight, just like you’d done with the girls, and you left his room, closing the door so that no one would disturb the light-sleeping baby.

There was a late night ahead of you, but first, you settled yourself onto the couch in the living room and pulled out your phone. Upon opening your messages with Spencer, you couldn’t help but be disappointed to find that there was nothing unread. You thought about sending him a text telling him that you all miss him but eventually decided against it. You didn’t want to make him feel guilty. At least, no more guilty than he likely already did.

You turned on the TV, quietly playing a Christmas movie as you began the festivities. All of the gifts had been expertly hidden in the master bedroom, split between being shoved under your bed and in your closet, but a new playhouse for the girls had been dropped off earlier. It was too big for your room, so your parents had stored it in their basement in the interim.

That would be a struggle to bring in from the garage, so you decided to start small, pulling all of the kids’ stockings from their hooks and laying them out on the floor before going upstairs to get the stuffers.

With the movie playing, you filled the stockings with treats and little toys. A few times you imagined your phone buzzing, but each time there was nothing on the screen. The loneliness started to set in as you rehung the stockings, making sure the kids’ names faced forward above the fireplace.

This wasn’t your first Christmas alone, Spencer had been in Idaho for Olivia’s first Christmas, but neither of the girls remembered it.

They’d remember this one, you thought to yourself, walking back up the stairs to grab a load of boxes. Thankfully, they were already wrapped, but you did have to avoid getting ribbon in your mouth as you carried the armful of gifts down the stairs.

Masterfully, you adjusted them beneath the tree, trying to visualize where they’d all end up in the end as you heard something distantly, but you brushed it off as someone leaving your neighbor’s holiday party. You stood up, wiping your hands on your pajamas as you evaluated your handiwork, shrugging before you turned around for the next load, “Oh,” you breathed, watching the handle on the door from the garage turn.

The door opened slowly, revealing your husband on the other side, his black peacoat draped over his arm and purple scarf looped around his neck. He hooked his car keys on the key hook before he noticed you, brown eyes finding your pajama-clad figure. His lopsided smile was all-knowing as always, he knew he had surprised you. In fact, it had been his goal.

You remained exactly where you were, watching him from the den as he put his shoes away and hung up his outerwear. It was almost as if you’d convinced yourself he was a mirage, and any sudden movements would cause his visage to dissipate. “Hey,” Spencer said, cocking his head at you as if he were confused why you hadn’t come any closer to him. He peeked around you to look at the tree, “Did the kids get to bed okay?”

Instead of answering him, your body naturally responded to what seemed like the miraculous appearance of your husband by producing tears. At first, they just welled along your lash line, but as they started to fall, you buried your face in your hands.

Spencer was there, not only in the house but also taking the initiative to approach you, he wrapped his arms around your torso, taking your tearful form under his care, “Is everything alright?” He asked, slowly dragging his hand up and down your spine, humming as you reciprocated his embrace and pressed your face into his shirt, drying your eyes and taking in the moment.

“Everything is wonderful,” you responded, your voice muffled by his shirt. He smelled like stale dark roast and the jet, but you were too relieved by his arrival to truly mind.

Tightening his grip briefly, he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “Right, well. You’re crying, so I had to make sure,” he murmured, swaying gently to the music coming from the film.

You loosed a breath of relief, “I can’t believe you’re here. The kids were miserable at bedtime, Nell wouldn’t even talk to me until I told her you’ll be home for her birthday,” you informed him, keeping your arms wrapped firmly around him while you tipped your head back to see him.

Spencer nodded in understanding, reaching up a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “We made the arrest at eight and wrapped up around nine. Somehow, Emily convinced the pilot to leave in the middle of the night, and we were on the jet by ten. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve spent holidays in worse places, but I’d rather be here with you than in Milwaukee.”

“I will kiss Emily Prentiss on the mouth,” you told him candidly.

He raised his brows curiously, “Mhm, and what about me?”

Grinning, you pushed up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his, an amalgamation of a welcome home and a Merry Christmas kiss, but you pulled away before you could get carried away. “Merry Christmas, Spencer Reid, we have work to do,” you told him, taking on a mock seriousness as you nodded your head toward the Christmas tree, which only had a fraction of your kids’ gifts beneath it.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” Spencer reciprocated, pressing one more kiss to your lips, “Let’s get started.”

Spinning out of his grip, you found you had much more pep in your step with his arrival, beaming as the two of you went through the house as quietly as possible, gathering the gifts for the kids without rousing any suspicion. Even grabbing the playhouse from the garage didn’t seem like as much of a task with him around.

You adjusted the stockings as it neared two in the morning, Spencer returned from upstairs with the last few gifts, having changed his clothes into pajamas that neatly matched yours—a family set that was a gift from your Penelope. “They look great,” Spencer assured you, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he stood back, admiring your handiwork.

Walking backward until your back was against your chest, you tilted your head to the side, appraising the mountain of gifts beneath the tree, “Do you think we went overboard this year?” Between the gifts from Santa and the gifts from the two of you, the heap was rather intimidating.

“No,” Spencer answered, “bigger kids, bigger gifts.” He put his arms around your waist, resting his chin on top of your head, “besides, they’re good kids.”

You hummed in response, leaning into him ever so slightly. Part of you felt like Spencer was still experiencing guilt surrounding the three months he spent away from you and the kids while he was in prison. No amount of time at home or therapy would ever absolve him of that guilt, but it never hurt to try, “Hey,” you whispered up to him, “I got you something.”

He frowned down at you, “I thought we said no gifts this year?”

Scoffing, you walked over to the home office, “We say that every year and neither of us ever stick to it, so go get whatever it is you got for me.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but even so, he made his way upstairs to where you knew a gift was hiding in his bedside table. Upon his return, he faltered at the large box you’d placed on the coffee table and held up the small box in his hands; you beamed at him as he eyed the behemoth of a present.

He handed you the smaller box, instinctively, you admired the wrapping before starting to open it, recognizing the jewelry box before you had even discarded your wrapping paper. “Oh, Spence,” you said, looking at the necklace in the box, a dainty chain with five small gemstones on it. His birthstone and yours, followed by Nell’s amethyst, Livvy’s sapphire, and Finn’s tourmaline all strung next to each other, “it’s perfect,” you told him, lightly touching the gems with your fingertips. You’d mentioned wishing you had an everyday necklace a few weeks ago while getting ready, and he must’ve been listening more attentively than you’d thought.

Finally, you had him open his gift, and he was entirely speechless as he opened the cardboard flaps. His mouth gaped as he lifted one of the books in his hand, the title and edition identical to one that had been previously ruined in your house. “Fuck,” he cursed, looking from you to the books and back again.

You shrugged, “It’s not all of them, but a pretty good amount of them. Some of those editions are proving difficult to recover, but I’ve—” You’re cut off, startled by Spencer pressing his lips to yours. “I’m still looking for some,” you said breathlessly once he pulled away.

Spencer seemed unsure of what to do with himself; you’d managed to find replacements for three-fourths of the books that had previously been burned by an accidental fire set earlier this year. The only time your marriage had ever been on the rocks was when Diana lived with you, but even then, you’d been planning this surprise. “You are…” Spencer started, uncharacteristically at a loss for words, “This is incredible,” he told you, shaking his head in disbelief, setting the book down in the box and nearly tackling you in a hug.

Laughing, you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound, “I love you,” you murmured to him, his body now next to yours on the couch.

“I love you too,” he said, looking at you with glassy eyes. “Wow,” he said, sniffling, “I need to get you something else. A necklace isn’t enough,” he told you, likely already thinking of options for addendums.

You shook your head, “Trust me when I tell you that your being here is worth all of the rare books in the world to me,” you reassured him, running your fingers through his hair. Humming, you adjusted your head on the pillow, “Are you gonna fall asleep like this?”

He nodded, “If you keep playing with my hair like that. How long do you think we have until they wake up?” He asked, keeping his eyes closed while you peeked over him to check the time.

Last year, Finn had woken up the whole house on Christmas Day at four in the morning, and seeing as it was nearing three, you wondered if it was worth sleeping at all. You continued combing through Spencer’s hair, “Do you want to go upstairs?”

“This is a really great couch,” he mumbled, already falling asleep on the couch, leading you to grab the blanket that was thrown over the back and haphazardly drape it over the two of you.

Unfortunately, it felt like you’d gotten no sleep at all when you heard the first stirring upstairs, “Mommy,” Olivia called out, which would likely wake up Finn and Nell.

You got up from the couch, waking up Spencer in the process. Your poor husband, who was probably already running on little sleep, got up and folded the blanket you had been using, returning it to its home while you went upstairs to get the kids.

Livvy’s eyes went wide when she saw you come from downstairs, “Did Santa come?” She asked you, nearly bouncing with excitement.

As you expected, the door to Eleanor’s room swung open, revealing your sleep-deprived five-year-old in her rumpled pajamas, “Yes, Santa brought gifts for everyone,” you answered, ruffling her hair before going into Finn’s room, hoping to wake him gently before the voices did a less delicate job. “Hi buddy,” you whispered, looking back to see the girls gathered at the door, completely unaware that their dad was waiting for them downstairs. “Merry Christmas,” you said softly, his scrunched face not processing what you were saying, but happy to see you, nonetheless.

You picked him up from the crib and herded the girls to the stairs, letting them lead the way down while you carried the baby. Right behind them, you watched the realization dawn on their faces as soon as they caught sight of Spencer, “Daddy!” Nell shouted, leading her little sister as they ran to him.

Laughing lightly, you let a squirming Finn down, running to Spencer in the same way the girls just had. From a distance, you watched as all three of your kids entirely bypassed the gifts under the tree and on the mantle and went straight to what was more important—their father was home for Christmas.

Spencer crouched down to get Finn, and at the same time, Livvy jumped in excitement, leaving Spencer falling backward and sitting on the ground while the kids formed a less-than-graceful dog pile on the floor. You took that as your cue to join in on the festivities, kneeling on the floor next to the familial pile, uncontrollable giggles emanated from everyone involved.

You wrangled the two littles in your arms, giving each of them dozens of kisses and receiving more laughter in return as Eleanor settled down. Your eldest took her moment of alone time and laid her head on Spencer’s chest, the grin on her face overtook the rest of her face, “Best Christmas ever,” she whispered before rolling off of him, Spencer instinctively lifting his hand so she doesn’t hit her head on the leg of the coffee table.

Nellie sat up giving you a toothy grin, sticking her tongue through where she was missing a front tooth. Everyone took notice of Olivia pointing at the tree, her mouth shaped like an “o” in awe, “Can we open that one?” She asked, pointing to the largest present in the stack—which, of course, had her name on it.

“Stockings first,” Spencer said, leading to a pout from your middle child, but it was quickly wiped away when he kissed the crown of her head. Your husband got up first, taking Finn from where he was tucked into your side, and set him on his hip, “Okay, who wants their stocking?”

Everyone’s hand went up—including yours.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #written by margot #spencer reid dilf agenda

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peachysunrize · 2 days ago

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All Too Well ⥃ modern!Aemond Targaryen

Summary: a reunion with your ex boyfriend at his mom’s Christmas party shouldn’t end with limbs tangled under a christmas tree, should it?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Mentions of toxic relationships, Aemond goes to therapy, smut, angst, p in v, oral (F receiving), breeding, secret relationships, alcohol, arguments, drunk sex!!! English is not my first language<3

Word count: 4.3k+

A/n: soooo this happened lol and ALSO THANK YOU TO THE ANON WHO GAVE ME THIS IDEA!!! I hope you enjoy this!! Comments & reblogs are more than appreciated💕💕

I don’t have a taglist so please follow and turn on notifications for @peachysunrizefics <3

Tension surprisingly is not high tonight despite the entire family being present. Perhaps the three glasses of mulled wine Aegon has thrust into your hand are doing the magic at keeping you sane — or perhaps you are too busy trying to escape the dark gaze of your ex-boyfriend.

It is… something to say the least; Alicent’s party is always extravagant, beautiful, and cozy. She outdoes herself each year by going above and beyond to prepare the eve with the most delicious meals and new drinks, terrifyingly expensive gifts, and last but not least, decorating the mansion with the most eye-catching milestones in every corner — probably Aegon’s doing — and a Christmas tree in every room.

You take a long sip from your glass, humming as the spices in the wine hit your tongue, Aegon’s sigh making you roll your eyes in annoyance.

“What?” You hiss, glaring at him as he shrugs and leans on the wall behind you, “It was your brilliant idea to join your family, not mine.”

“Yeah, but you’re sulking worse than me, and no one here has traumatized ya before,” he whispers, pouting as he takes a long swig from his glass, giving you a small yet quick smile.

You sneer at him, recalling every single pain a certain member of this family has put you through. All the tears and screams you shed for him on the bathroom floor, the days you called in sick because you had cried your energy out the night before, the hours you had to spend with Aegon with a fake smile plastered on your face because he could not know anything about your broken heart.

After all, it all happened due to the forced secrecy.

“Right,” you scoff, finishing your drink in one sip before looking at Aegon’s family conversing, only one person keeping himself invisible in the shadows, “That’s why you told me your… brother won’t be here.”

“That has nothing to do with trauma, dumbass,” Aegon says, walking to the long dining table in front of you to grab a bottle of wine and pour a generous amount in his glass, “It’s not like my brother has any interest in you, he is just a fucking sociopath, and a bit fucking weird but ‘s all.”

“Let’s not talk about him,” you exhale sharply, trying to ignore your friend’s point, yet again, the lack of knowledge on what has really happened between you and his younger brother. How could he when Aemond tried his hardest to keep you his secret, a forbidden captive to pour his deranged love into?

You loved him, and he did too! His love was everything you could ever imagine; it was pure, lovely, so warm and world consuming. But then something shifted in him, he wanted you in his corner of the world, tucked away from every eye.

It all started with subtle hints you tried to ignore; you were fine with being his forbidden romance, his lover in the shadows and you knew all too well why he wanted you kept in the dark. He was so in love, so smitten with the way you smelt, the way your lips curled in a smile, your messy hair on the hotel’s soft pillow.

Your eyes wander around the room, finding Aemond’s eye already on you, his gaze sending shivers down your spine. His eye still weakens your knees; his stare is enough to make your throat dry and your hands tremble. There is not much to do especially when you are used to being the subject of his unwavering attention — most of the time, you would blush and swoon over how he wouldn’t take his eye off you when you both lay on the bed together, but it equally unnerved you how he used to act in front of other people as if he could not care less about your existence, and when he did he was scaring off other men, not allowing them even to have a normal conversation with you.

You avert your eyes back to your glass before you move towards the dining table to grab something to eat and keep your mind from thinking about him and ultimately ruining your night. The spicy taste of Alicent��s cheese twist distracts you for a little, and you can find the strength to look back at Aegon and ignore the piercing gaze of his younger brother.

“This tastes good, your Mum is an amazing cook,” you say, taking another one to stuff your mouth with, and washing it down with a freshly poured wine from your glass.

“Yeah, as if she doesn’t have a whole ass kitchen staff ready downstairs,” he chuckles and steals a bite from your twist, making a gagging sound at the taste, “Holy fuck, how can you eat this crap? It feels like I’ve dumped an entire jalapeno down my throat. Aemond is the same, he can never go without adding kilos of pepper to his food.”

“Stop, Aegon,” you hiss at him, shaking your head as you pinch your friend’s side, “How many times have I told you not to mention him in front of me?”

“Many fucking times,” he groans and leans on his elbows on the table, “I don’t get why you are so defensive about him. He’s a good kid!”

“He forgot my birthday and took you and your family on a fucking trip, so yes, I don’t want to think about him,” you tell him, sighing loudly before leaning back on the wall behind you, “Besides, he always treats me like a piece of trash!”

“He does that to everyone! You’re not different, lemme tell you that,” You know Aegon wants to make you feel better, you know that, but when he utters those words, you can not help but think about how much that statement is true; Aemond treated you like another person who did not deserve him in public while he hated everyone who breathed the same air as you. It was confusing, it was heartbreaking.

You glance back at the spot where you last saw him, only to find him finishing another shot of whiskey, his lips pressed into a thin line as he looks down at his shoes with disdain written all over his face. He looks troubled, his mind is probably racing with a hundred thoughts; you know him too well, all those nights spent in his arms only to listen to his soft murmurs about his family that would always lead to him telling you how much he appreciates and adores you, but can’t let anyone see you being in a relationship with him.

Perhaps it was the duality between obsession and indifference that drove you apart.

With another sigh, you leave Aegon to let him go socialize with his family, smirking when he glares at you with a scowl on his face. But you need to get out of this place and hide somewhere because the more you spend in this huge hall, the more the walls get closer.

You do not spare him another glance before you walk out of the hall and upstairs, going to the closest bathroom to have a minute for yourself away from him, in hopes of pushing his thoughts out of your head. You can feel the intensity of his stare as he watches you leave, his eye not once leaving your silhouette as you try to hide yourself from him.

You slam the door shut as soon as you step inside the bathroom, chest heaving with each breath; seeing him was enough damage, but to feel him yearning from across the room is worse. You want nothing more than to vanish from this place and never be seen again, but you can’t, and it pains you deeply because you need to walk out of this door with your head held high and act all happy and comfortable while you are bothered by Aemond’s presence immensely.

You put your glass down on the edge of the bathroom sink before you turn on the water and splash some on your face, not caring if you have ruined your makeup or not. The coldness of the water eases your mind a bit, helping you gather your thoughts, but it is not enough, nor were the drinks you took earlier. When it comes to him, nothing is enough to take the edge off.

Looking at yourself in the mirror reminds you of how much you miss having his arms wrapped around you when you were getting ready to leave his apartment or the hotel room, at that moment nothing seemed so out of place, but it all came crashing down because of the two worlds he created and danced around them for too long.

Shaking your head slightly, you take a long and deep breath before grabbing your glass again and leaving the bathroom. You had no wish to go back downstairs, not anymore at least. With one last breath, you close the door before you and march towards another staircase leading to a sitting room you always loved to spend time in when Alicent would invite you over.

Without looking inside the room you open the door and walk inside, making sure to close it with little to no sound, but when you turn around and look up, you find Aemond there, standing in front of the large windows of the room with a glass of whiskey in his hands.

“I–I’m sorry, I’ll leave—”

“Hey-no, no!” he cuts you off quickly, his good eye wide in surprise and fear before he gestures for you to sit, “Don’t, I mean… you don’t have to leave.”

“I don’t wanna disturb you,” you huff nervously, your grip tightening around your glass as you look at him with an equally shocked expression, “I’m so sorry I just—”

“Stay,” he says, and you can see how he swallows his words nervously, his walls crumbling slightly the longer he keeps looking at you, “The room is big enough for at least twenty people so… we’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure—” “Just make yourself at home,” he replies, giving you a small smile before he turns his back to you to stare out of the window, watching the snowfall.

You know he is waiting for you to approach and sit on the loveseat in front of the fireplace but you go and stand in front of the other window on the opposite side of the fireplace from where he is standing, sipping on your drink to distract yourself from thinking about him, which is nearly impossible because you can smell his bitter and cold cologne from here.

You glance at him, finding him nursing on his whiskey; it has been too long since you have seen him so put together and… beautiful. He is wearing an all-black outfit, dress pants, and a black long-sleeve shirt which he has undone the first button. His hair is neatly brushed and he has pulled his locks in his signature halfway-up way that brings his face out more.

You drag your eyes to his hands, clattered in simple silver rings, watching his fingers tap the metal against the glass before you see him turn his body in your direction slightly. His eye meets yours for a second, and suddenly you are the girl who would jump with joy with one of his texts, the girl who would love feeling him breathing her scent in — it terrifies you, the power he holds over you.

“This was a bad idea—” you say, shaking your head but before you get the chance to walk away he grabs your wrist firmly, pulling you back a bit, “Aemond…”

“Don’t leave,” his voice breaks a little, his thumb caressing your pulse point as he looks at you the way he used to do when he would ask you to stay at his place, not wanting you to leave him for even one second.

“We can’t do this again, Aemond,” you say, tears burning your eyes when you look at his face, your heart clenching when you find him in the same situation; teary-eyed and trembling, “We shouldn’t because I can’t go back to the place I was months before—”

“We don’t have to, just listen to what I have to say, okay?” he lets go of your hand, putting his glass on the table in front of the loveseat, “I didn’t have the chance to say anything, you… you cut me off so out of the blue—” “Out of the blue?” you ask, voice dripping with shock and anger, “Out of the fucking blue, Aemond? Ignoring me when we were with your siblings, acting as if I didn’t exist when we were somewhere that we could run into someone you knew! And-and,” you chuckle in sadness, wiping that one tear that slips your eye, “You kept me your little secret while you would tell me that I’m your world, I’m gonna show you off to everyone, you sounded like you were obsessed with me but you couldn’t even hold my hand in front of your brother!”

“Because I couldn’t stomach the idea of you leaving me!” He shouts back, dropping his hands to his sides as he huffs out an angry breath, “I-I couldn’t imagine a world without you in it, and it terrified me so I thought it would be best to—”

“To what? To plan a fucking trip on my birthday and ignore my texts and calls for a whole week? Yeah? Or maybe you thought it best to act like I was a nobody to you when I tried to hold your hand in front of your friends. Which one is it, Aemond?” you step closer to him, craning your neck to look into his eye better, “So? How did it feel when your worlds merged and you lost me? Oh, wait, you didn’t lose anything because you couldn’t care less about me—”

“I care!” he raises his voice a little, fisting his hands to keep himself composed and not touch you the way he likes, “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. I-I went through the worst thing you can imagine after you left me—”

“Don’t put the blame on me when everything happened because of you and your obsession with keeping me “all to yourself” while you barely looked at me when others were present!”

“Stop! Stop, stop—” he finally reaches up and cups your face in his hands, pulling you in even closer as he leans down to look straight into your eyes, “You’re right, I fucked it up, I…I ruined everything because I didn’t know how to handle my feelings. That… That trip was spontaneous, and I never forgave myself for doing that to you. My head…it gets really messy sometimes and I feared I would ruin the only good thing that’s ever happened to me, and I did, I ruined it.”

“You can’t excuse your actions—”

“I’m not!” he brings your face closer to his until you are only one breath away, “I… I’m sorry, for what I did to you, and-and I am going to therapy… because I thought I might somehow redeem myself.”

“You can’t expect me to take you back, not after what you put me through,” you rest your hands on his, gently pulling them down, letting the tears fall freely on your cheeks.

It has been a long time since you held his hands in yours, and you can feel the itch in his skin as he tries to fight off the urge to wipe your tears. Maybe he has changed as he says, turned into a better man but you can not be sure, not after the hell you went through and managed to pull yourself together afterward.

“I’m not expecting you to take me back, but please know I deeply regret what I did, and I hope you give me another chance…”

You nod absentmindedly before dropping his hands and stepping away from him, walking towards the door as you try to muffle the sob that nearly escapes your throat, and with one last look at him, you open the door and leave the room.

Resting your back on the closed wooden door, you take a shaky breath, trying your best not to cry your eyes out in the hallway, but it is impossible; how can you not sob when you have been waiting to hear those words for so long? It does not matter if he is genuine or not, you just need to listen to him say he is sorry for what he did.

Now it feels like a weighted blanket has been lifted from you and you can breathe again.

Maybe he is sorry, maybe he is not, but there is something within you that makes your palms sweat. You bite your bottom lip, trying to shake the thoughts of him away, but the way he looked at you, how enamored he seemed… after all, many people close their eyes on logic when it comes to the person their heart is beating for.

It does not matter if you regret this the next day or not, you need to feel him, you need to know how it feels to be loved by him again; so with one last deep breath, you open the door and slam it shut before marching toward where Aemond is sitting — under the Christmas tree with a cigarette in his hand and an ashtray resting next to his hand.

“Wha–” you don’t let him finish, you kneel down in front of him and grab his face into your hands tightly, slamming your lips to his.

He moans, falling back on the ground with a soft thud as his free hand roams your back, feeling the soft silk fabric of your dress beneath his fingertips while he tries to find the ashtray with the other while never breaking the kiss.

“Mmm-are you sure?” he manages to ask between the kisses, finally putting out the cigarette. Now both of his hands come to rest on your waist, holding you close as he waits for you to answer.

“It doesn’t matter if it’ll be the last or the first of many, I just need to feel you,” you mumble against his lips before closing the gap again, letting the savory taste of your wine melt against his bitter whiskey and smoke.

The kiss is unlike anything you have shared before; it is passionate, late lovers reuniting, full of emotions that have been left unexplored yet so familiar and welcoming. It must be the alcohol in your system, but his hands on your body set your skin ablaze, and for the first time in a long time, you feel desperation in his movements.

He sits up quickly, his lips moving in sync with yours before he licks your bottom lip, asking for entrance and when you part your lips, he pushes his tongue in, tasting the wine from your mouth directly while his hands come up to rest on your back, one hand reaching to push the strap of your dress down, caressing the skin with such delicacy that it makes you melt beneath his touch.

He breaks the kiss, looking down at your face as both of you pant and cling to each other before he gently lifts you and switches your positions, lying you on the carpet next to the Christmas tree, humming in delight when you spread your legs to make room for him.

You reach up to pull him down again, lips sealing in another breathtaking kiss. He holds himself up by his elbows on either side of your head while he kisses you back, groaning when you wrap your legs around him and rock your hips up, rubbing your clothed core against his growing bulge.

He pulls back and trails his kisses down your jaw to the column of your throat, going lower with each kiss before he reaches your thighs. Aemond waits for you to give him the green light and when you nod he pushes your dress up to your hips, prepping your inner thighs with kisses and bites before he grabs the waistband of your underwear and pulls the fabric down dropping it to the side.

“Aemond…” you sigh when he wraps his fingers around your thighs and spreads them further, leaning in to lick a stripe from bottom to top, ignoring your shocked gasp as he starts feasting upon you — seems like you were not the only one who has been craving intimacy lately.

He flickers your clit with the tip of his tongue, his chin rubbing against your wet folds. He hums when he hears your little whines and sighs, spurring him on even more to go faster and drive you closer to your peak.

Your hand goes to his perfectly shaped hair, tangling your fingers in his soft luscious locks. He opens his mouth and sucks on your buzzing nerves, dizzying your brain and clouding your mind with each lewd sound he makes.

He loves the way you push his head down and rock your hips up; he deserves this, to be smothered with your scent and taste, and he would die a happy man if you kept squeezing your legs around his head.

With a newfound determination, he pushes his tongue inside you, thrusting the steady muscle in and out while he reaches to play with your clit with his thumb, drawing fast and firm circles as he brings you closer to the edge of the euphoria.

You moan his name loudly, throwing your head back as your lips fall apart and your body as well, shaking in his strong grip when you come on his face, gushing your juices out with a cry, mind going blank as you shut the world out and focus on the waves of ecstasy that rock your body.

Aemond wipes your release from his face with his sleeve, crawling on top of you with a soft look in his eye before he bends down and pecks your lips while he fiddles with his belt and pants, unzipping them and pushing them down to his thighs, sighing in relief as soon as his cock is free from the tightness of the fabric.

“You’re too far away,” you whine and reach for him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and nodding quickly when he gives you a few seconds to rethink this, “I want you, please…”

“Don’t beg, sweet girl,” he whispers, lining up his cockhead with your entrance, gently rubbing it up and down to gather some of your wetness before he starts pushing in slowly, “ I’ll give it to you, you don’t need to beg for anything, ever.”

You missed him; the closeness, the proximity, the way his cock always fills you so deliciously. Now with his cock inside you fully, he pulls you in for a kiss, moving inside you with shallow thrusts while his lips steal the breath from your lungs.

He picks up his pace, his hips snapping to yours repeatedly, his cock reaching deep inside you. You arch your back, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt as you break the kiss suddenly and moan out loud. His hand goes down to your thigh, lifting it higher a bit so he can reach even deeper inside you, fucking you faster and rougher, pouring his regrets into each thrust and snap of his hips.

“Look at you,” he breathes, the hand that was holding your leg up comes to cup your cheek, forcing you to look into his eyes as he gazes down at you, “So beautiful, so so gorgeous, fuck—”

You gasp, thighs quivering on the side of his hips as he brings you closer to the edge, him not being far behind either. He looks down at you so… lovingly, as if he is trying to memorize every up and down and lines on your face, counting your lashes and carving the shape of your lips in his mind while his cock throbs inside you.

You both reach your orgasms together; it is warm and slow, a heat that comes from the deepest part of your core and spreads like wildfire inside you, the same applies to him. He shakes and groans your name in your ear, burying his face in your neck as he drops his weight on top of you, hips thrusting slowly as he comes inside you, filling you up with every ounce of his being.

Aemond raises a bit, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, looking down at you as if you hang the stars in his gloomy sky, and perhaps you do.

He finally pulls back, his soft cock slipping out of you with a wet sound and you watch him tuck himself back before he helps you up, handing you your underwear before he stands and holds his hand out for you.

Hesitantly, you take his hand and try to stand up on wobbly legs, but he is fast enough to steady you with his palm on your waist, tightening his grip on you when you bend down to pull your panties up, straightening your back before you look at him.

“I… Thank you.” is all you can say, giving him a small awkward smile before you step forward toward the door, but for the second time tonight, he grabs your wrist and threads his fingers through yours, leading you to the door himself, “What are you doing?”

“A second round never hurt anyone, right?” he asks hopefully, a small smile playing on his lips, “I can’t just let you go without giving you a proper orgasm on my bed.”

“Aemond, we can’t, what if someone sees us?” you ask, your heart beating so hard against your chest you can hear it in your ears, but Aemond doesn’t seem to care as he drags you toward the rooms upstairs, “Aemond!”

“Then let them see,” he shrugs and guides you on the stairs, and to your unfortunate luck Alicent and Aegon are coming downstairs, but Aemond pays them no mind as he leads you past them, ignoring Aegon’s shocked gasp and calls for his name.

Maybe he has changed, maybe.

#rue writes✍️#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #ewan mitchell x reader #hotd fic #aemond fanfiction #hotd smut

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mariasont · 2 days ago

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hi!!!!

I'm soooo in love your work. bimbo!assistantreader wil always have a special place in my heart!!!

Now i have this of idea that i think can work for either aaron or spencer, but basically bau!reader who kind of always wears the same type of outfit in the field that's always really modest. Buttttt when they kind of like "know" it's just going to be a paperwork day she likes to were skirts... short skirts and Aaron/Spencer are just feral for them...

Can either be fluff of smut... I trust you indefinitely xxx

Short Skirt, Long Day - A.H

a/n: hi hi hi hiiiiiii!!! ugh thank u sm i kinda took this an interesting route so let me know what you think!!!! im also heavily thinking about writing a smutty pt 2 for this but id love to hear everyone’s opinions

masterlist

pairings: perv!aaronhotchner x bau!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, suggestive content, aaron being a straight PERV!!! (im into idk man), aaron imagining scenarios he didn’t shouldn’t at work, idk this is quite different from my usual postings but i kinda fuck with it

wc: 1.4k

Aaron Hotchner loved paperwork day.

Days like these meant the frenetic energy of ringing phones and rapid footsteps is replaced by the soft drone of air conditioning and the occasional rustle of files being shifted. It’s the kind of morning he appreciated—time to breathe, to recalibrate without the air of an active case breathing down his neck.

But that's not why his pulse is thrumming more than steadily beneath his skin.

Hotch glances at the clock on his desk. It's early—too early for most of the team to be here yet, save for a couple agents whose faces barely register in his peripheral vision. His focus is elsewhere, fixed on a singular thought. Or, rather, on a singular person.

You.

Hotch leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as a shameful type of heat rises to his face. It's a little pathetic, he thinks, how predictable he's become—it's not the work that makes these mornings bearable anymore. It's the anticipation.

The knowledge that, any minute now, the elevator doors will part, and you'll step out, wearing something that will completely dismantle his carefully constructed composure.

Hotch had noticed a pattern (of course he did, that was his instinct honed to a razor's edge). In the field, your outfits are a study in practicality: slacks, fitted jackets, muted tones--professional to a T. Nothing flashy, nothing that would draw undue attention.

But in the office, when the cases are shelved, and the team is left to wade through stacks of paperwork... it's different.

And it drives him insane.

The image takes root before he can stop it: the curve of your thighs, tantalizingly framed by a skirt that seemed designed to test his limits. The way the fabric molds to you when you move, clinging in places that his eyes are all too quick to follow.

Hotch exhales sharply, clearing his throat as if that could somehow clear his mind. It's unprofessional--he knows this, knows better than to let his thoughts stray so far from where they belong but yet…

The ding of the elevator pulls his attention like a magnet, and there you are. His grip on the pen tightens instinctively, the knuckles blanching as his gaze locks on you.

You're wearing that skirt today--black, fitted, and infuriatingly short, hugging your hips in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination.

He tells himself to look away, and for a second, he manages it--his eyes dropping back to his desk, his breath coming out slow and measured. But that reprieve is fleeting. His gaze flicks back before he can stop it, drawn helplessly to the curve of your waist as you laugh at something one of the other agents say.

You're too good. Too sweet. Too damn oblivious to realize what you're doing to him.

And he knows it's wrong—knows he's toeing a line he has no business approaching. But the way his body reacts to you, the pull you have on him, is beyond reason. It's instinctual, raw, and completely out of his control.

He calls out your name. "Could you come in here for a moment?"

You turn, blinking at him with wide, curious eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"I need you to grab something for me," he replies, his voice level, though every syllable felt like a tightly coiled spring. He motions towards the cabinet near the corner of the room. "The Marcus file. Bottom shelf."

He was a terrible terrible man.

Without hesitation, you step toward the cabinet, crouching slightly as you begin to sift through the lower shelf. The moment your body lowers, his eyes start trailing down where the hem of your skirt lifts, just barely revealing the soft curve of where your thighs meet your ass. Then, as you bend further, shifting your weight slightly to reach deeper on the shelf, the fabric stretches taut, clinging to your ass in a way that sends a jolt straight through him.

Hotch's throat feels tight, his breathing shallow as he drinks in the sight before him. You're so close, just feet away, and the angle offers him an unobstructed view. The shape of you, the smooth expanse of skin that's always just out of reach in the field, is right there--so achingly close he feels like his chest might explode.

He knows if you dipped any further, your panties would be on display and he couldn’t help but wonder what color you had on.

You’ve always had a meticulous attention to detail, choices leaning towards deliberate but understated at the same time. In the field, you favored muted tones—greys, blacks, navies. But here in the relative safety of the office you allow a little more personality, more femininity.

His mind turns to your preferences—pink, maybe.

Hotch swallows hard, pulse roaring in his ears. The thought gnaws at him, insistent and unrelenting—he needs to know.

“Careful,” he says, feigning concern. “You might need to check further back on the shelf. Sometimes the files get pushed out of sight.”

You glance over your shoulder at him and he swears he could combust. “Further back?”

He nods, leaning back in his chair to appear casual, though his grip on the armrests were anything but. “Yes.”

You turn back to the cabinet, shifting your weight again as you crouch lower, leaning further to search the back of the shelf. The motion sends the bottom of your skirt riding higher, and for a brief, heart stopping moment, the lace of your panties is on full display.

It was a pink barely there strip of fabric.

His mind betrays him, conjuring images he knows he shouldn't entertain. He imagines his hands on you, running over the curve of his hips, gripping your thighs, sliding that damn skirt higher until there's nothing left to hide. The thought of you like this, pliant and completely unaware of the effect you're having on him, makes his pulse pound in his ears. He wonders what you would do if he were to push those panties to the side and slide a finger in you.

You shift again, leaning deeper into the cabinet as your voice drifts back to him, murmuring something about not seeing it. His jaw locks, teeth pressing together as he fights to maintain control. His fingers dig into the armrests of his chair, the leather creaking faintly beneath the strain. It's a futile effort, though; the pressure building in his chest, his body, is relentless.

The heat pools low in his abdomen, simmering and insistent, a sharp pulse of arousal tightening every muscle in his body. He's painfully hard now, the evidence uncomfortably against his slacks, but he doesn't dare move. His mind a blur of want--what he wants to do to you, what he knows he shouldn't do, and the precarious line he's treading just watching you like this.

The tension in his body seems unbearable, and for a fleeting second, he considers how easy it would be to walk over, to let his hand graze your hip, to tilt your chin up so you'd look at him and see the wreckage you've left in your wake.

But he doesn't. He can't.

Instead, he forces himself to remain still, staying rooted, the self-restraint biting and bitter.

"Are you sure it's under here? I still don't see it."

Hotch's lips twitch, the smallest shadow of a smirk threatening to break free on his face. He leans forward, feigning surprise as he picks up the file from the corner of his desk.

"Ah," he says, waving the file. "Looks like it's been right here the whole time."

You straighten abruptly, brushing your hands down your skirt and turning towards him with a soft laugh. "Hotch! So I was practically upside down in that cabinet for nothing!"

He shakes his head, giving a small chuckle to match yours. Not for nothing. The satisfaction still simmers low in his chest, a private indulgence he knows you'll never suspect--the movement was far from wasted.

"My mistake."

"Well, I guess we all have our moments. Let me know if there's anything else you need, okay?"

When the door finally closes behind you, he exhales shakily, the breath spilling out like a confession. Leaning back in his chair, he presses his fingers to his temples, his entire body tense with the effort of restraint. He feels unmoored, like a man balancing on the edge of a precipice, one misstep away from losing everything he’s worked so hard to keep under control.

But for now, he’ll settle for watching, for imagining, for wishing—knowing full well that nothing could ever come of it. And yet, as he glances at the door where you’d just been, a part of him wonders how much longer he can hold out.

It’s going to be an impossibly long day—but the most troubling part of all is how much he’s starting to enjoy the torment.

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @pansexualhailstorm @averyhotchner @looking1016 @everythinglizzy @sky2nd @alexxavicry @spencerssatchel @candyd1es @storiesofsvu @pleasantgardenwitch @kodzukenmaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spennciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @jstcln @just-here-to-read13 @c-losur3 @wondergal2001 @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @estragos @khxna @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @justyourusualash @whimsicalpolitical @kcch-ns @cool-light32 @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @ssamorganhotchner

join my taglist here!

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #perv!aaronhotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x fem reader #hotch #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader

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eternalguk · 1 day ago

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Our Quiet Christmas | jjk. (M)

You are my home, my home for all seasons.

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : After a whirlwind year of schedules, chaos, and never-ending to-do lists, Jungkook whisks you and your daughter away to a secluded cabin for a much-needed Christmas getaway. With snowflakes falling outside and the crackling fire keeping the cold at bay, it’s the perfect chance to slow down and soak in the love that makes your little family so special… But Jungkook has more than just cosy movie nights and snowman-building in mind—he’s set on expanding your family, and he’s not exactly subtle about it. Between his playful charm, heartfelt confessions, and stolen kisses by the fire, it’s hard to resist the idea of giving Areum the sibling Jungkook can’t stop dreaming about.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, dad!jungkook x mom!reader, marriage au, comfort au, pwp

↠ Word count : 9.3K

↠ Warnings : making out, explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), riding, missionary, impregnation!kink, dirty talking, begging, dom!jungkook, sub!reader (think that’s all)

↠ A/n : hi there ; merry Christmas Eve 🎄! I hope you’re all having a restful break and enjoying the holiday period 🫶🏻 I present you soft dad!Jungkook being absolutely smitten with his family. Snowy vibes, fireplace cuddles, Jungkook being charmingly relentless about baby number two, and you trying (and failing) to resist his puppy eyes. Feedback is always appreciated & happy reading 🦢!

↠ Song : Snowman by Sia

Winter had arrived. An icy serenade surrounds you yet the warmth of love is all you feel. An old Christmas movie plays in the background and the smell of home-baking permeates the air.

Comfort, peace and solace is all you feel right now.

“This years going to be different, I can feel it in my bones.”

“Guk, baby you say that every year.”

“No no, I’m sure about this one, you see I can feel it-

“In my bones.” You both say in sync, causing Jungkook to chuckle as he brings his hand to your jaw, moving your face towards him so he can kiss you.

His lips join yours in a soft, gentle manner.

Years have passed, but every time you and Jungkook kiss, you swear you feel the same butterflies that you felt when he kissed you for the first time after your third date outside the art gallery.

Magical. That’s how you’d describe kissing Jungkook.

His lips were warm, soft, and when they touched yours, there was no rush. Jungkook deepens the kiss ever so slightly, letting the pressure build with gentle insistence, the rhythm of the kiss calm but full of intention.

The two of you are lying on the couch, legs entangled under your daughter's blanket as you watch the fireplace emit sparks of warmth, bathing the wooden interior with golden hues.

“Eomma, appa!” A voice calls out, full of pride.

Areum.

4 years old and a bundle of joy. Your bundle of joy.

“Look, I fixed it!” Areum’s tiny and soft voice breaks the quiet. She jolts into the room, clutching the wooden reindeer ornament Jungkook had given her to paint earlier this morning. It had been her project all afternoon.

The reindeer was, to put it kindly, a riot of colour - blobs of red, green, and yellow mixing like a child’s dream of Christmas. One of its legs appeared a bit wobbly, but it stood proud, just like Areum did right now, her rosy cheeks flushed with pride.

Jungkook lets out a low whistle, sitting up slightly as the blanket slips down his chest. “Wow, princess, you really did that all by yourself, mhm?”

“Mm-hm!” Areum nodded vigorously, imitating her father. Her dark hair bounces as she hurries to place it on the small mantle above the fireplace.

You smile softly at your princess, watching Jungkook’s eyes glisten with adoration like a knight in shining armour. His role as a father suits him more than you could have ever imagined. The playful glint in his gaze softens into something so reverent every time Areum enters the room.

You know confidently that she is his whole world, as much as she is yours.

“Appa, is it good?” Areum’s wide eyes sought his approval.

“Good? Baby, it’s perfect, just like you,” Jungkook says warmly, reaching for her hand and pulling her into his lap. She lets out a giggle as he peppers her face with kisses, her tiny hands swatting at his cheeks playfully.

“Go easy on her, Guk,” you tease, leaning your head against the armrest of the couch as you tuck your legs under the blanket again.

Jungkook grins at you, Areum still squirming in his arms. “I’ll stop when she says ‘my appa is the best.’”

“My appa is the best!” she squeals, breaking into a fit of laughter and reaching to kiss her fathers cheek.

A Mini Jungkook indeed.

Satisfied, Jungkook sets her down gently, watching as she scurries off to grab another decoration. He leans back on the couch with a contented sigh, the blanket once again draped over the two of you.

“You know,” he begins, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, “this is exactly what I needed. Just us. No schedules, no phone calls, no distractions.” His thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone as his chocolate brown eyes hold yours, the firelight dancing in its depth.

“I know,” you softly murmur, running your fingers over the back of his hand. “This year has been so… relentless? It’s nice to just breathe and soak in the silence.”

You both sigh, snuggling into one another despite being as close as humanly possible.

“Except when Areum remembers she has parents,” you chuckle, shaking your head in laughter as you see her ornament.

Jungkook’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Speaking of Areum interrupting our silence…” He shifts even closer, his voice dropping to that low tone he uses when he wants to get under your skin. “I’ve been thinking about adding another little someone to, you know, interrupt our quiet moments. What do you think?”

Your eyes flicker to him, your breath hitching at his boldness. You contemplate playing aloof, but your husband’s abruptness stops you. “Are you serious?”

Jungkook nods, the grin on his face unmistakably cheeky now. “I mean, we’ve been talking about it for a while. And look at Areum - she’s so ready to be a big sister. Aren’t you, princess?” he called out to her.

Areum looked up from where she was arranging ornaments on the small tree by the window, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Hmm, Appa?”

“Are you ready to be a big sister, my angel?” Jungkook questions her tenderly.

“What’s that?” Areum queries, curiosity etched into every feature of her face. “How do we get one?”

You stifle a laugh, your cheeks warming. “Don’t confuse her, Guk.”

But Jungkook was undeterred, his hand sliding under your sweater to rest on your hip beneath the blanket. “Just think about it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. “Another little one resting here with us next year. Maybe a boy this time… although I wouldn’t mind another girl if she’s as perfect as Areum.”

Your heart clenches at the thought. You could picture it so clearly—a tiny baby, smaller than a bag of sugar from the grocers, cradled in Jungkook’s strong arms, Areum’s careful hands reaching out to stroke a soft cheek and your hand clutching your heart at the scene. The cabin, filled with even more love than it already is.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” you say, turning to press a peck to his jaw.

“I’m just optimistic,” Jungkook counters, his dimples showing as he smiles down at you. “And we’d be so good at it, don’t you think?”

Before you could answer, Areum runs back over, throwing herself between the two of you with an exuberant laugh. “I found the star!”

The star.

Jungkook had promised Areum that when she finds his hidden star, he will help her put it on top of the already full tree. The things this man did to get a quiet moment with you…

“Eomma, can we put it on top of the tree now?”

“Of-”

“Of course, princess,” Jungkook interrupts, sweeping her up effortlessly and carrying her to the tree.

You laugh at the father daughter interaction. Maybe you did need another baby to keep you company.

You watch the two from the couch, your chest swelling with gratitude. The year had been chaotic to say the least, but this - this simple, intimate moment right here - was everything you’d ever yearned for.

Jungkook catches your eye as he lifts Areum high enough to place the star on the tree. He gives you a knowing wink, his silent promise clear: there was more love to come.

And maybe, just maybe, you were ready to embrace it.

After the tree was decorated to Areum’s satisfaction - every inch of its branches covered in her creative flair - Jungkook carried her upstairs to put her to bed.

You decided to stay downstairs, tidying up the remnants of her crafting supplies and rearranging a few of the more precariously placed ornaments. The cabin is even quieter now, save for the occasional creak of the wooden beams and the faint sound of Jungkook’s voice drifting from the upper floor.

He’s singing to her.

It’s something Jungkook has done since Areum was a baby, and the sound of his melodic voice humming a lullaby never fails to warm your heart.

You lean against the doorway, pausing to listen. His voice, smooth and honeyed, wraps around the melody like a cosy blanket.

You carry on clearing Areum’s toys away, wanting the place to be nice and tidy before Christmas Eve tomorrow.

When Jungkook finally comes downstairs, steps light and careful, his eyes meet yours. “Out like a light,” he whispers softly as though he’s scared to wake her, running a hand through his messy hair. “I barely made it through the second verse.”

“She always loves when you sing to her,” you pout, crossing the room to take his hand. “Just like me.”

Jungkook pulls you into his arms, your cheek pressing against his welcoming chest. “I think I’ve got some magic left tonight,” he whispers in a low voice, his lips brushing your hairline.

“Oh, do you now?” you taunt, tilting your head to look up at him. “What tricks you gonna show me?”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to capture your lips. But, before he could do so, something catches both of your attention. A faint tapping sound comes from the large bay window at the front of the cabin.

Curious, you turn towards it, only to see that snow has begun falling in earnest. The flakes were large and fluffy, blanketing the world outside in pristine white.

Jungkook steps out of your embrace, walking to the window to get a better view.

“Jagi, it’s a Christmas miracle.”

“I can’t believe it,” you run to the window, happiness like that of a child.

Jungkook stands there for a moment, his broad shoulders outlined by the golden glow of the fireplace, before turning to you with a mischievous grin. “It’s perfect. Let’s go.”

“What? Now?” you exclaim, your brows lifting in surprise. “You’re fucking crazy!”

“Why not?” he said, holding out his hand. “It’s just us, remember? No one’s here to tell us we can’t.” Jungkook pulls a funny face which you can’t help but laugh at.

You hesitate for a second, but the gleam in his eye is irresistible. Laughing, you grab your woolly coat and leather knee-high boots, following him outside into the magical winter night.

The air is crisp and sharp, biting at your cheeks and nose, but the snow truly made everything feel softer, quieter, as if the world had been wrapped in cotton wool and there was no way out. The two of you stand on the small porch, the snow crunching underfoot, watching as the forest rapidly around you transforms into a winter wonderland.

Jungkook turns to you, his eyes sparkling. “Dance with me, jagi.”

You laugh again, shivering as he grabs your hands. “There’s no music, you idiot!”

“Sure there is,” he replies swiftly, stepping closer. “Listen. The wind, the snow, the quiet. That’s all the music we need.”

Jungkook begins to sway with you, his hands warm as they enveloped yours. The two of you move slowly, his body sheltering you from the cold. Snowflakes are caught in his dark hair, his nose reddening from the chill, but he looks as handsome as ever, his smile lighting up the night.

“This is what I meant,” he hushly says, voice low and intimate. “Just us. No rush, no noise. Just you, me, our princess, and moments like this.”

You move forward to rest your head on his chest, letting the quiet envelop you both in a warm hug. Jungkook’s arms tighten around you, his chin coming to rest on your head.

“I think you might be right,” you whisper, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

“Right? About what, love?”

“This year being different. It already feels like it is.”

Jungkook pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes softening. “It’s different because we make it that way,” he reassures you, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “And we will keep making it better. Every year, every moment. Together.”

The snow continues to fall, and for a while, you simply stand there, swaying in the quietude, wrapped in each other’s arms. The world around you disappears, leaving only the two of you and the love that made every moment worth remembering.

Once the cold began to creep through your coats and boots, Jungkook insisted on pulling you back inside, laughing at the way your teeth chattered as you kicked off your snow-covered boots.

You now stand in the living area, shivering like a child in a cold cradle.

“I told you it was too cold,” you huff, trying to warm your hands with your breath.

“And I told you it was worth it,” he nonchalantly replies, tugging off his gloves and taking your icy hands in his. His larger palms envelop yours, the heat of his touch sending a shiver up your spine. “Better, baby?”

You nod, letting him guide you back to the couch.

Jungkook grabs the blanket you were sharing earlier, draping it over the two of you as you snuggle close, your body seeking the warmth radiating from him.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room. Jungkook reaches for the mug of hot chocolate he’d abandoned earlier, holding it to your lips for you to sip. The sweetness and warmth spread through your chest, and you sighed in contentment, leaning back into his embrace, inhaling his woody scent.

For a while, neither of you speak, simply basking in the serene silence and your comforting presence. Jungkook rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms circling your waist as you both gazed at the fire.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks quietly, breaking the silence.

“Of course, babe.”

Jungkook hesitates for a moment, his thumb absently tracing circles on your hip. “I meant what I said earlier, you know? About wanting another baby.”

You turn slightly to look at him, your brow lifting in curiosity. “Really?”

“Yes,” he says confidently, his eyes soft but steady. “Areum’s growing up so fast, and every time I see her smile or hear her laugh, I think… we made that. You and me. She’s this perfect little person, and I can’t help but think how amazing it would be to do it all over again.”

Your heart swells at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it impossible to brush off the idea. You’d talked about it in passing before, but the way he spoke now felt different.

Earnest. Hopeful. Loving.

“You make it sound so easy,” you chuckle, though your voice was softer than you intended.

Jungkook snickers, his breath warm against your neck. “I know it’s not. The sleepless nights, the mess, the chaos… but it’s worth it, isn’t it? Every bit of it. I mean, just look at what we’ve already got.”

Your gaze flicks to the staircase, where you could just imagine Areum fast asleep in her bed, her little chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm.

“You’re right,” you admit, turning back to him. “She’s the best thing we’ve ever done.”

Jungkook leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “And we can do it again,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your skin. “If you’re ready, of course.”

Your eyes meet his, searching them for any trace of doubt, but there is none. Only love and unwavering belief in the life you’d built together.

A soft smile tugs at your lips. “Maybe,” you say, your tone playful but your heart already leaning towards yes. “We’ll see.”

Jungkook’s grin widens, the dimple in his cheek making an appearance. “That’s not a no.”

Jungkook’s persistence was truly admirable.

“It’s not a yes either,” you counter, however, you can’t stop yourself from laughing as Jungkook leans in to kiss you, his hands sliding up your back.

“You’ll come around,” he mutters against your lips, voice low and teasing. “You always do.”

“Don’t get ahead yourself, mister,” you chuckle as you move to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

The fire crackles before you, its warmth matching the heat building between you.

Jungkook’s kisses deepen, his hands tighten their hold on you, and for a moment, the world fades again, leaving only the two of you in your little cocoon of love.

But then a soft cry breaks the moment, drifting down from upstairs.

“Eomma? Appa?”

You both freeze before pulling back with identical smiles, your foreheads pressed together.

“Think she had a dream,” Jungkook utters, his voice laced with affection.

“Your turn,” you whisper, nudging him gently.

Your husband groans in mock protest but stands fairly quickly, tossing the blanket aside. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“I think we’re even,” you tease, watching as he heads towards the stairs.

Jungkook pauses halfway up, turning to look back at you with a smile so warm it rivals the firelight. “We’ll pick up this conversation later.”

You laugh softly, pulling the blanket tighter around you as he disappears upstairs. The fire continues its steady crackle, and you lean back into the couch, your heart full as you listen to Jungkook’s soft voice comforting Areum.

It was in moments like this - simple, unassuming, and utterly filled with love - that you realised you’d already found everything you’d ever wanted. And maybe, just maybe, you were ready to grow it a little more.

The cabin is quiet again.

You hear Jungkook’s footsteps, soft, as he makes his way back down the stairs. Areum must have settled quite quickly.

You are still curled up on the couch, the firelight painting your skin with a warm glow as you scroll through TikTok.

Jungkook pauses at the end of the staircase, leaning on the banister for a moment, his eyes fixated on you.

“You’re staring,” you sing, your lips curving into a lazy smile.

“Can’t help it,” he replies, pushing off the banister and crossing the room to sit beside you. “I have the most beautiful wife in the world.”

“You always know what to say,” you taunt, resting your head against his shoulder as he pulls the blanket back over both of you.

His arm comes around you, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your arm. “What can I say? I’m a man in love.”

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while, scrolling through your FYP as the fire crackles softly, a contrast to the snow that continues to fall outside.

Jungkook’s hand never stops moving, his touch soothing and intimate, as if he needed to keep that connection to you at all times.

“You know,” he interrupts the silence eventually, voice deep, “when I first thought about taking you and Areum out here, I wasn’t sure if I’d done the right thing. It’s so… quiet.”

“Mhm?” You urge him to continue.

“Another part of me felt bad for leaving our family, but…” Jungkook pauses, trying to find the right words.

“It was exactly what we needed,” you finish his sentence for him, softly, nuzzling into his side.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t realise how much I needed it too. Being here with you, with her… it’s like everything else has immediately faded. All that stress, the busyness, it just doesn’t matter anymore.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his expression. “Guk, you have worked so so hard for us. For everything. You deserve this time just as much as we do.”

Jungkook knew in that moment that you were his comforting love. The fort that comes in advance of danger. His protection before the need for that even arises. For you, he was the softest thing in the universe. There was a solace in feeling the goodness of your soul. You always carried a gentle certainty that Jungkook was born to absorb and accept love.

People had always told you, you were lucky to have Jungkook. But Jungkook knew, he was luckier to have you.

He meets your gaze, his dark eyes filled with gratitude and something deeper, something unspoken but understood. “You make it all worth it,” he says in simple words.

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly. His lips linger on yours, slow and tender, as if he were trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into that single moment.

When you pull back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your cheek. “I know I keep bringing it up, but… I really can’t stop thinking about another baby,” he whispers, his voice tinged with both hope and hesitation.

You laughed tenderly, your fingers brushing through his hair. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“Only because I know how good we’d be at it,” he argues, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “And if I’m being honest, I’m kind of selfish. I want more moments like this. More little hands to hold, more giggles filling the house. And more time with you, building this life together.”

Your heart clench’s at his words, the integrity in his tone making it impossible to tease him this time.

“What if I said yes?” you ask quietly, your voice barely audible over the fire’s crackle. A newfound shyness came over you.

Jungkook’s breath hitches, his eyes widening slightly as he pulls back to look at you fully. “You mean it?”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “I’ve been thinking about it too. And you’re right… Areum deserves to have a little partner in crime. And I…” You trail off, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze. “I think I’d love to see you holding another baby of ours. To see our family grow.”

The smile that spread across Jungkook’s face was brighter than anything you’d seen all night. He let out a breathless laugh, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he whispers against your hair.

You cackle, your arms wrapping around his neck. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

Jungkook pulls back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You’re incredible, you know that? I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply, swatting lightly at his chest. “If anything, I don’t deserve you.”

“We’ll just have to agree that we’re both pretty lucky,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you again.

This time, the kiss is deeper, filled with promises and excitement for the future you’d just agreed to build together. The fire burns low in the hearth, and outside, the snow continues to fall, blanketing the cabin in a hush that seemed to echo the love you shared.

When you finally pull apart, you settle back into his arms, the blanket cocooning you both.

“So… when should we start?” Jungkook asks, his voice light but laced with mischief.

You laugh, swatting at his chest again. “How about we enjoy the rest of this quiet night first?”

“Fair enough,” he says with a grin, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

As the fire’s glow dims and the snow piled high outside, you close your eyes, the steady rhythm of Jungkook’s heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful slumber. And though the night was quiet, your dreams were filled with the sound of tiny feet and laughter, and the warmth of a love that felt boundless.

It was now 1AM.

The two of you were awake again.

The cabin was silent save for the soft crackle of the flames. You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in the same blanket that had been your haven all evening, Jungkook’s arm draped lazily across your shoulders.

His fingers trailed absent patterns along your arm, the touch light but deliberate, sending tiny shivers over your skin. You lean further into him, sighing in contentment as your head rests against his chest.

“I love this,” you say softly, the words barely audible over the quiet.

“This?” he questions, his voice low and warm.

“Us,” you clarify, tilting your head to look up at him. “This moment. It feels… perfect.”

Jungkook’s lips quirk into a small, almost boyish smile as he leans down to kiss your forehead. “It’s because we are perfect,” he teases, his voice teasing but laced with sincerity.

You laugh softly, rolling your eyes. “Confident?”

“Always,” he replies, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers linger against your cheek, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

The mood shifts subtly but unmistakably.

Jungkook’s hand slides down, his fingers grazing your jaw before settling at the nape of your neck. He leans in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that starts soft but quickly deepens, his other hand slipping around your waist to pull you inevitably closer.

The blanket falls slightly as you shift to become more comfortable in your husband’s embrace. Your hands find their way to Jungkook’s chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. He groans softly against your plush lips, his fingers tightening their hold as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss further.

Kissing Jungkook always felt so poetic. In the emotions of his kisses, you could understand a language so passionate, it transcended the works of the greatest poets combined.

When your husband finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breathing slightly uneven. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he admits, his voice husky and low.

“Thinking about what?” you ask, though the heat in his gaze is leaving very little room for doubt.

Jungkook grins, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “About how much I want you.” He kisses your forehead.

“About how much I love you.” He kisses the tip of your nose.

“And…” He pauses, his lips curving into a playful smirk. “About how nice it would be to give Areum a little sibling.” Jungkook leans forward to capture your lips again, but you swiftly pull him back by his luscious brown tresses.

Your eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by his boldness. “Jungkook!” you laugh, swatting lightly at his chest, your cheeks warming at the suggestion.

“What?” he asks innocently, though his grin only widens. “I’m just reminding you that you said yes.”

“I-“

He cut you off with another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate. More urgent.

And when he pulls back, his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “Maybe I can convince you tonight.”

Your heart races at the low, teasing tone of his voice. His hand slips beneath the hem of your sweater, his touch warm against your skin as he traces light patterns along your back.

“You’re crazy,” you whine, though your voice lacked any real protest.

Jungkook chuckles, his breath hot against your neck. “Only because I know how amazing we are together. And because I love the idea of us growing our little family.”

The sincerity in his words melts any resistance you might have had, and you find yourself leaning into him, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“You wanna start trying already?” you ask softly, your lips brushing against his.

Jungkook pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes filled with excitement and love. “Well, we shouldn’t waste any time.”

You laugh, your heart full as you let him guide you closer, his lips capturing yours once again. The fire burns low, its warmth nothing compared to the heat between the two of you.

“Let’s head upstairs,” Jungkook says as he pulls away. “I want to do this properly.”

You eyes soften as you nod. Preparing yourself for the night to stretch on, knowing it will be filled with whispered promises of love and … filth.

The bedroom is dimly lit, the only light coming from the crackling fire in the hearth and the glow of the Christmas lights strung around the bed. The air is warm, thanks to the fireplace, and is scented with the faint aroma of pine and cinnamon.

Jungkook sets you down on the ground gently, his hands lingering on your hips as he steps back to admire you. Your red sweater and matching skirt make you look like a holiday gift, and he couldn’t wait to unwrap you.

“Take it off,” he commands, voice calm yet husky. “Slowly.”

Your cheeks warm, but you obey, your hands moving to the hem of your sweater. You peel it off inch by inch, revealing the lacy black bra underneath.

The universe was on your side.

Jungkook’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening as he watches you. When you finally toss the sweater aside, his hands are on you again, thumbs brushing over the lace before slipping beneath it to cup your breasts.

“You look beautiful,” he declares, voice low yet you are still able to sense that it is thick with emotion.

A smile tugs at your lips as you glance up at him. Jungkook moves closer, lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, his voice a velvety caress that makes your skin prickle with heat.

You laugh softly, leaning into him. “It feels like our first time all over again,” you say, heart racing.

“Does it?” he asks, although you know he isn’t looking for an answer.

The air between you and your husband is thick.

Thick with anticipation.

The low flicker of the fire casts a light shadow across his features as he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world. One hand rests on your hip, his grip firm yet gentle, as he thumbs at the band of your lacy underwear. The other is wrapped around your waist, holding you close as though he’s scared you’re about to get away.

You gaze at one another with eyes full of love.

Jungkook is a drug. Your drug. One touch from him and the intoxication is instant. It always has been.

This man could tell you to do anything, absolutely anything, and that is exactly what you would do. His gaze, his scent, his everything sends you into a heady trance.

You guide his digits to your centre, your sticky core waiting for him. Jungkook rubs your soaked lacy underwear, groaning deeply as he takes in your wetness.

“And I thought it was just me who was excited,” he whispers in an indulging tone, voice rich with lust as he draws you closer with his free hand, lips finding yours. “Look at you, angel, you’re fucking drenched.”

You respond by pulling him closer by dark tendrils, capturing his lips against yours. The kiss starts slow, tender, but it doesn’t take long for the heat to intensify.

Jungkook’s hand slides up to cradle your jaw, angling your face as his lips move against yours, each kiss growing deeper, hungrier. Your fingers tangle in his soft strands as you tug gently, earning another low groan from your husband, vibrating against your mouth.

“Jungkook…” you whine between kisses, your body starting to need more.

Before you can say anything else, his hands are on your waist, lifting you effortlessly like you weigh absolutely nothing. Jungkook carries you to the bed, his lips never leaving yours, and when your back hits the mattress, the world tilts slightly.

You lock eyes for just a moment, just enough for you to feel safe with one another. And then? Then Jungkook is all business.

Pulling your underwear off, he begins by kissing from your toes upward, slowly, his hands on your legs, always inching just a little higher than the kisses he plants.

Your back arches in anticipation, knowing where his fingers will soon reach. And as he does, your head rocks against the fluffy pillow, the first moan escaping your lips.

Jungkook hovers above you, one knee pressing into the bed. His dark hair falls forward, brushing against your skin as he leans in, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jawline and then lower, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over your neck before pulling back slightly.

The mattress dips beneath his weight as he shifts, his free hand bracing beside your head. You feel the tension in his body - the strength in his arms as he hovers above you, the control in every deliberate movement - and it’s intoxicating.

Your hands roam down his back, tracing the lean muscles. The firelight casts golden shadows across his bare chest, highlighting every dip and curve, and for a moment, all you can do is stare.

He smirks, leaning down to kiss you again, his lips brushing yours as he teases, “See something you like?”

You roll your eyes, but your laughter catches in your throat as his mouth claims yours again. The kiss is hotter, slower, more deliberate, pulling you further under his spell. His hands explore every inch of you, mapping your body as though he’s determined to remember every detail, his touch setting your nerves alight.

“You’re irresistible,” Jungkook groans, the sound itself sending you into a deep spiral.

He bends down, his mouth capturing one nipple through the fabric, sucking gently until you arch into him, another moan escaping your lips, louder this time. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavishes attention on your other breast, his tongue darting out to tease the sensitive peak.

Arching into him, you massage his scalp and moan pleasurably as he prods at your nipple with his scandalous tongue. He fondles your other breast, kneading it which has you sighing out in bliss.

“Oh fuck, I love your tongue,” you whine gratifyingly whilst he continues his soft assault on your breast, sucking and tugging at your nipples lewdly. Your fingers inch further into his hair when you feel him jut his tongue out, licking around the soft area.

Jungkook moves to place kisses between the valley of your breasts, making his way further down your sexy body, still fondling your breasts delightly. You arch further into him, half-lidded gaze peering down at him, massaging his scalp whilst he perfectly nips at your smooth skin, ascending you to cloud nine.

Sighing out in sheer ecstasy, you tug Jungkook closer to you. His hand canvases down your body, cupping your soaked sex in his palm.

You let out a scandalised gasp, gut filling with heat.

“Always so fucking wet, princess,” Jungkook groans as he glides his two fingers through your tight cunt. You brace yourself on his broad shoulders, breathing heavily and Jungkook revels in each sultry sound that leaves your pretty mouth.

“J-just for you,” you manage to whimper out as his fingers skim around your battered mound. Jungkook begins to push your legs apart and releases a satisfied hum when he sees how soaked your cunt is for him.

Jungkook pulls back, winking at you before moving forward to kiss down your body. To where you need him most. His lips adorn every inch of your body and your core ignites when you feel him reach closer to your already naked sex.

Jungkook’s eyes locking onto yours as he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra. The garment falls, leaving you bare to his hungry gaze. His hands roam over your body, tracing every curve, every dip, while his lips replaced his fingers, kissing and nibbling along your collarbone, your shoulders, your throat.

“You’re mine,” he growls against your skin, his voice vibrating through you. “All mine.”

You shudder from the cold, now completely naked, your breath coming in shallow gasps as he hovers above you. His fingers trail down your stomach, stopping just above where you need him most. He glances up at you, his eyes gleaming with mischief before his fingers dipped lower, sliding through your folds.

“So wet for me,” he groans, voice dripping with possessiveness. He circles your clit once, twice, before delving inside you, his fingers thrusting deep as he continues to stroke your most sensitive spot.

Jungkook’s thumb was gentle yet insistent as he traced lazy circles around your clit, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You lay back against the plush pillows, your breath hitching as he leans over you, his dark eyes smoldering with desire. His lips brushes against your ear, his voice low and husky as he whispers, “Everyone will see you swollen and know I’ve fucked you.”

You moan, unable to form words as his fingers dip inside you, teasingly slow at first.

Jungkook watches your face intently, his thumb pressing against your clit in a rhythm that has you arching off the bed. “You’re so hot,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. “So ready to be bred.”

His fingers move faster now, scissoring inside you while his mouth trailed kisses along your jawline. “Tell me,” he demands, his tone commanding yet laced with tenderness. “Tell me how much you want this.”

“Yes,” you gasp, your hips instinctively meeting his hand. “I want… I want you so bad.”

Jungkook chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Not just me,” he corrected, his voice growing deeper. “You want our baby. Tell me.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as the weight of his words settles over you. “I do,” you admit, voice trembling. “I want - oh, God ; I want everything with you.”

Jungkook’s eyes are coloured with a shade of satisfaction, as he adds in another one of his delicious fingers, satiating your ache for more.

You cry out, your hands gripping his shoulders as wave after wave of pleasure seeps through you. Jungkook’s free hand moves to your plump ass, squeezing roughly as his fingers pick up speed, plunging in and out of you with increasing urgency.

“Tell me,” he demands, his voice gruff. "Tell me who’s got you soaked."

“You,” you croon, your voice breaking. “I’m wet for you.”

At your words, he stands, lifting you once again and placing you on the edge of the mattress. His fingers leave your aching core, and you only hope it is replaced by his mouth, the image of his tongue lapping at you with fervor making you shudder.

You cry out his name, your back arching as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

Jungkook moves his head in front of your cunt, breathing against it deeply, knowing the sensation of his hot breath would spur you on further.

And it certainly does.

You jerk rapidly as Jungkook places a kiss to your clit and your insides constrict, anticipating his next ministration.

“Can I eat you out?,” Jungkook huskily asks. He knows how tired you must be, so he ensures he’s safe to go ahead. Your chest swells with butterflies, in awe of how caring your husband is.

You move forward and cup his cheek, urging him to look towards you. You smile at him brightly, nodding your head and place a quick peck against his swollen lips.

Jungkook is quick to get back in position, paying attention to your leaking cunt again. He lifts your legs over his shoulders, letting them rest there daintily. You lean back, palms planted on the mattress beneath you as you savour the view before you.

Your sexy husband stands before you with his exposed, tanned and Apollo-sculpted body ready to devour you whole. Jungkook breathes against your folds and you quiver with arousal. His hands massage the inside of your thighs, calming your anticipation.

“My wife’s so pretty,” he whispers before moving to press a gentle kiss on your clit. You shudder at the sensitivity, bucking your hips into his face, yearning for more.

You run your fingers through his dark tresses, tightening your grip on his scalp. “Jungkook, pleasee,” you whine, arching into him more in the hopes that he’ll provide you with some form of relief.

“Patience baby,” Jungkook murmurs before jutting out the tip of his tongue and lightly tracing your nether lips. You squirm, moaning his name shamelessly and uttering soft pleas as you mentally pine for more contact from his skillful tongue. Jungkook feels more turned on as he hears you become more needy despite him not having done very much.

“I’ve got you, princess,” he growls before licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. He latches onto your quivering cunt, making out with it and sucking on your labia. Jungkook buries himself further as he gathers your slickness on his tongue. You mewl at the euphoric sensation his tongue supplies and he provides you with no mercy as he eats you up with his masterful tongue.

Bucking your hips closer to his face, you wordlessly beg for more and Jungkook abides almost immediately, lapping at your folds like a starved man. He flattens his tongue against your cunt, generously sucking on the pulsing bud. Jungkook groans at the sweet flavour of your juices that has you reeling for more.

He repeatedly licks up your slit shamelessly, tongue delving into you deeper and deeper as he cranes his own neck with no care in the world. He basks in the mess between your legs, chest swelling with pride as he realises it’s all for him. Only him.

“Fuck,” he moans into your cunt, “your pussy always tastes so good. Fucking missed this,” he says as if he hadn’t woken you up by eating you out this morning.

His large, tattooed hands fail to stay still. They move from holding your thighs apart to having a tight grip on your ass, pulling you further into him.

“L-love seeing your face between my thighs,” you manage to voice weakly.

“I know you do,” Jungkook replies whilst bringing his thumb to rub against your aching clit. You rut your hips in his face, head falling back as the pleasure washes over you.

“Jungkoook, fuckk.”

He buries himself closer into your pulsing folds, nose burrowed deep within. Your hips develop a mind of their own and you begin to grind against his face, practically riding it. Jungkook hums satisfyingly as he moves his hands to rest on your ass again. He probes you forward and rocks your hips back and forth against his face making you grab a fistful of his hair, earning a slight hiss from him.

His hooded eyes meet your own and you send a lazy smirk his way as you rut your hips against his face. Your wetness from riding his nose, chin and tongue glistens on his skin which somehow turns you on more.

“Ahh shit,” you cry out, internally thanking the Heavens above that your cabin is located in a secluded area. You only hope Areum doesn’t wake up.

Whilst you continue to ride his face, Jungkook licks up and around your folds ravenously and his fingers bore into the meat of your ass.

He angles himself better and secures his lips down around your mound, dragging his tongue around until he latches onto your sensitive clit again. You moan lewdly and lurch when you feel Jungkook press his devious tongue against your throbbing bud.

“I’m gonna come!” You cry out, riding his face at a faster pace and your grip on his hair becoming tighter. Jungkook suckles your clit, tongue running through your folds, providing you with eons of paradisiacal pleasure. He shoves his face deeper into your cunt, violently capturing it with his plush, swollen lips and his grasp on you becomes harder.

You feel him smirk against you before he brings those bunny teeth of his and bites down on your clit. Your body jolts at the impact, but still manages to send hot, orgasmic spikes of arousal through your veins.

“Oh fuck,” you sharply moan, the need to come undone too prominent now.

“Come for me, angel,” he coos at you, hands moving to soothe your lower back. His dulcet voice does it for you and you feel your orgasm wash over you vigorously. Your hips grind against your husband's stupidly handsome face and he laps at your palpitating pussy.

Your mind spins and stomach bubbles as you come down from your high. Jungkook continues his assault, lapping at thecum that stains your cunt before he pulls away. You meet his desperate eyes, shimmering lips and a scandalous grin as he pants harshly.

You beckon him to you eagerly, hands growing taxed as you reach for his sweaty neck and pull him in for an all too chaste kiss. Smothering your mouth with his, you groan as you taste your essence on his enticing lips.

You devour his mouth, nibbling at his plump lower lip.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect.”

You chuckle at him simping over you once again, tugging him closer. Your legs immediately wrap around his waist and continue to mouth at him languidly, tongues tangling together.

Jungkook smiles against you, gushing at your sudden boldness. He runs his hand up and down the expanse of your back, gleefully continuing to make out with you.

But he isn’t done yet. When you were teetering on the brink, Jungkook pulls away, standing and stripping off his own clothes in seconds. His cock is hard and throbbing, and you can’t help but reach for him, your fingers curling around his length.

“Not yet,” he growls, stepping back. Jungkook positions himself between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance.

“Look at me,” he commands, his eyes boring into yours. “I’m fucking you full of my cum tonight.”

With that, he thrust inside you, filling you completely. You cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he claims you, his hips snapping forward with brutal precision. Every thrust is deliberate, every movement calculated to bring you both to the edge.

Jungkook’s hands grips your thighs, holding you steady as he pounds into you. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he moans, voice ragged. “Always so tight and ready for her husband.”

You cling to him, legs wrapping around his slim waist as you meet every thrust, your bodies moving as one. The tension between you is electric, crackling in the air as you both race toward release.

Then, without warning, Jungkook pulls out, flipping you onto your back and positioning himself between your legs once more. He grabs hold of your hips, lifting you slightly before slamming back into you.

“Ride me,” he demands with his sultry voice.

“Jungkook!” you cry, your hips rising to meet his, your body instinctively obeying his command. You shift your position, your core contracting around him as you take control, riding him with everything you had.

“Jungkook, you fuck me so good.”

“I know baby, I know,” he says, almost condescendingly.

Jungkook’s hands grips your hips firmly, his fingers digging into your skin as he guides you with precision. You feel the intensity of his desire in every movement, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “Ride your husband’s dick like you mean it.” His voice is low, almost a growl, sending shivers down your spine.

You obey without hesitation, rising slowly at first, the sensation of him inside you igniting a fire that spreads through your core. Your breasts bounce gently with each upward motion, the weight of them reminding you of how close you both are to this shared dream.

Jungkook’s eyes never leave yours, his dark irises locked onto your gaze as if he can see straight into your soul. There is no doubt that he probably could.

“Faster,” he urges, his hand moving from your hip to your thigh, encouraging you to pick up the pace. You comply, drawing in a sharp breath as your body adjusted to the rhythm.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your bodies colliding, the slap of flesh against flesh echoing softly. Jungkook’s other hand finds your breast, kneading it roughly as his thumb brushed across your nipple, sending electric shocks through your system.

“Do you feel how ready you are for me?” he murmurs, his voice dripping with possessive heat. “Your body is perfect, so wet, so tight for me.” His words sent a wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you can’t help but moan loudly, your head falling back as you surrender to the sensations.

Jungkook takes advantage of your distracted state, shifting his hold on you and flipping you onto your back once more. His chest pressed against yours, his weight grounding you as he begins to thrust deeply, each movement deliberate and unrelenting.

“Tell me you want this,” he demands, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “Tell me you want my baby.”

The intensity of his question catches you off guard, but the truth is already bubbling up from deep within you. “Yes,” you whine, clutching at his shoulders as his thrusts grow more urgent. “I want you, I want this… want us.”

His response is rough, hips snapping forward as he drives into you with renewed vigor. “Good girl,” he praises, his voice thick with arousal.

“So good for me.” He reaches between you, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in circles that synced perfectly with his movements.

You cry out, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure builds higher and higher. Jungkook’s hand moves again, this time slipping lower, two fingers pressing into you alongside his cock. “God, you’re so wet for me,” he notes, voice strained. “So ready to become a mother again.”

The combination of his fingers and his cock was overwhelming, every nerve ending in your body lighting up like a firework. You can feel the orgasm building, closer and closer until there is no holding it back.

“Jungkook!” you scream his name, your body convulsing around him as you come, stars bursting behind your closed eyelids.

He doesn’t stop, not even for a second. If anything, his movements become more intense, his breathing ragged as he chases his own release. “Stay with me, baby,” he commanded, his voice gravelly. “Don’t let go yet.”

You cling to him, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist as he continues to pound into you, his fingers still working their magic. “Almost there,” he grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic as he nears his climax. “Almost…”

And then he freezes, his body tensing as he comes inside you with a deep groan, his seed spilling into you with an urgency that betrays his desperation to make this moment real. “Mine,” he says roughly, voice breaking as he collapses onto you, his breathing heavy.

For a long moment, neither of you speak, the only sound heard is the rapid beating of your combined hearts.

Jungkook’s lips find yours, kissing you deeply as if sealing the promise they had just made.

“This is just the beginning,” he whispers against your lips, his voice filled with conviction.

“Our family starts here,” Jungkook affirms, caressing your hips softly.

The morning sun crept over the horizon, its golden rays slipping through the cabin’s frosted windows and telling you a story that today will be a perfect day.

You stir first, the soft glow coaxing you from the cocoon of blankets. Jungkook is still fast asleep beside you, his face relaxed in a way that makes your heart swell. His hair was tousled, his lips slightly parted, one arm flung protectively over your waist as if even in sleep, he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Careful not to wake him, you shift slightly, your gaze falling on the fireplace across the room. The embers had long since died, leaving a bed of ash that glowed faintly in the morning light. Outside, the snow glittered like diamonds, untouched and pristine.

Last night replays in your mind, every whispered word and shared touch lingering like a secret promise. A soft blush warms your cheeks as you rest a hand on your stomach, wondering, hoping.

Before your thoughts spiral further, Jungkook groans beside you, his arm tightening around you as his eyes flutter open. He blinks a few times, his face slowly breaking into a sleepy smile as he finds you watching him.

“Morning,” he sighs, his voice rough with sleep.

“Morning, baby,” you respond, brushing a strand of hair from his face and leaning in to kiss his forehead.

Jungkook leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed again for a brief moment. “You’re glowing,” he says softly, cracking one eye open to peek at you.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true,” Jungkook pronounces confidently, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch. “Last night…” His voice trails off, a grin spreading across his face. “Let’s just say I think we’ve got good odds.”

Your stomach turns at the memory of Jungkook fucking you so intensely. You’d been at it most of the night, Jungkook wanting to try as many positions as possible. Your husband's stamina was as high as the chances of you being pregnant already.

“Confident, are we?” you tease, though your heart is still skipping at the thought.

“With you? Always.”

The two of you lay there for a while longer, wrapped up in each other and the promise of what was to come. Eventually, the sound of tiny feet padding down the stairs broke the peaceful quiet.

“Eomma!” Areum’s voice calls out, bright and cheerful.

Jungkook groans dramatically, burying his face in your neck. “She’s too good at waking up early,” he mumbles, making you laugh. “I thought I might be lucky enough to have you ride me into being fully awake.”

“Come on,” you chuckle, nudging him playfully. “I’ll ride you later.”

With a sigh and a mumble of ‘you better’, Jungkook rolls out of bed, grabbing a pair of fresh boxers from the open suitcase and tossing his hoodie to you.

“Get it on, we don’t need to show her our anatomy just yet.”

You chuckle, quickly slip the hoodie over your head, before padding out to meet Areum, who stands at the bottom of the stairs clutching her favourite stuffed bunny.

“There’s snow everywhere!” she exclaims, her eyes wide with excitement.

“I know, princess,” Jungkook brightly says, scooping her up into his arms. “Maybe after breakfast, we can go outside and build the biggest snowman you’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” Areum’s face lit up, her joy infectious. “Bigger than the one at yoonie samchon’s house?”

“Of course,” he replies, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Ours will be much better.”

That competitive streak will never die.

You watch them with a soft smile, the sight of Jungkook cradling her so naturally makes your heart ache in the best way.

“Eomma, you’ll help too, right?” Areum asks, turning her bright eyes on you as she finally notices your presence.

“Of course,” you warmly respond, reaching out to take her into your arms. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

As the three of you settle into the kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes filling the air. A quiet sense of peace lingers and you feel whole.

Jungkook catches your eye over the rim of his coffee mug, his lips quirking into a small, knowing smile. He didn't say anything, but he didn’t need to. You knew. You always did.

Whatever the future held, whatever new adventures or challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together.

And maybe, just maybe, there was already a tiny spark of new life waiting to join your little family.

A Quiet Christmas was exactly what you needed.

You reach for your phone, capturing a photo of your husband and Areum scrunching their noses as they laugh at one another.

The photo is quick to make it to your instagram, with a sweet caption that summarises it all.

Our Quiet Christmas.

And there we have it! I hope dad!jk made you feel as cosy as I felt writing this 🦢! Merry Christmas, my loves ; I hope you have a wonderful Christmas 🎄.

Here is my masterlist if you would like to check out my other works <3

↠ Taglist : @iamstilljk @lovingkoalaface @kooeuphoria @jeonsgf-97 @taeskrve @freshmoondragon (names in italics - I was unable to tag)

#bts fics #jungkook fics #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook one shot #jungkook drabbles #bts oneshots #bts pwp #jungkook pwp

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blog-o-meter · 1 day ago

Text

25 - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) decides to get her brother’s best friend’s attention and he’s more than willing to give it to her.

warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, brother’s best friend!nicholas, dominant tease/bratty submissive, slow burn, forbidden romance??, implied age gap but not by much tbh it’s mostly just power dynamic

required listening: 25 by Veruca Salt

word count: 7,742

a/n: ik I try to wait a week between fics but I’m sawriiii I just loved this one too much to not post immediately. I do have another fic in the drafts but honestly I hate it now so I don’t think I’ll post that one. anyway im already planning on continuing this one YUPPPPP 🙂‍↕️ i just love listening to my playlist and writing xoxo lmk if you’re a veruca salt fan

reblogs, likes, and replies are greatly appreciated and let me know if you'd like to see more!

I never meant to eavesdrop on my brother’s conversations with him — Nicholas. Their voices, along with the sounds of Call of Duty blasting through the tv speakers, always managed to spill through the Jack and Jill bathroom that bridged our bedrooms. I would catch myself lingering by the bathroom door, my book or phone in hand as a cover, pretending I just happened to be nearby. My brother would crack some joke, and Nicholas’s laugh would come through low and warm, and my skin would prickle at the sound. Or sometimes I’d even hear the salacious stories of Nicholas and his fling of the week. Either way, I listened intently.

Nicholas and my brother have been best friends for years. He just showed up to the house one day and just kept coming back, like what happens whenever you find your best friend for life, like how I did. But my brother and I don’t run in the same circles, not really; he has his friends, and I have mine — and they never mixed, not even at our backyard cookouts where we’d each invite a friend or two. We always found ourselves at opposite corners of the house, and it was probably because they were a little older than us.

As a result, I never bothered, or was too nervous, to exchange more than a few words with Nicholas other than the occasional polite conversation, but he always managed to get under my skin either way. It was like he knew, somehow, like he could see right through me, past all my attempts at being casual or indifferent.

I couldn’t control the way my heart skipped a beat every time Nicholas’s eyes flicked over to me whenever I’d pass by them in the living room or as we passed around plates at the dinner table, especially not when I’d pass by him in the hallway and he’d flash me that all-too-famous smirk. I guess that’s why I eavesdropped on them; it was the only way I got to know him without having to say a word to him.

So, I didn’t know what was so different about that night that I just had to get Nicholas’s attention somehow, even if for just a second. I wasn’t sure if I would’ve bumped into him in the hallway, or even the bathroom, or not, but I still decided to slip into the skimpiest set of pajamas I had — a delicate pair of shorts that barely reached the back of my thighs and a camisole that clung to me like second skin. My mom had told me to never wear it whenever there were people over; it was “too revealing.”

“(Y/N)!” My brother’s voice traveled through the bathroom, shouting over his TV.

Hesitantly, I rolled out of my bed, my sock-covered feet quietly shuffling across the floor over to the bathroom. Before I reached the door to his room, I looked down at myself and suddenly grew shy. Maybe I was trying too hard. Would Nicholas notice? Second guessing my sudden boldness, I carefully hid half my body behind the door frame when I cracked open the door to his room.

My eyes flickered to Nicholas, who was perched on the edge of my brother’s bed, controller in hand, leaning forward slightly as he focused on the screen. He didn’t look over right away, but the second I peeked through the crack of the door, his gaze shifted back and forth between me and the TV, his thumbs hesitating on the controller.

“Yeah?” I asked quietly, trying to sound as casual as possible, one of my feet cricketing against the other.

My brother barely glanced at me, his eyes glued to the team deathmatch round they were playing. “Do we still have any snacks left in the pantry or did you finish them?”

I hesitated, feeling Nicholas’s eyes on me. His gaze lingered, scanning over what little of me was visible behind the door. His dark brown eyes were unreadable, but there was something in his expression, something curious, that made me feel both exposed and exhilarated.

“Yeah, there’s still some cookies and chips. I'm not a vacuum,” I said finally, my voice softer now and muttering the last part. I rested my cheek against the frame, my gaze flickering between Nicholas, the floor, and my brother.

“Could you bring us some?” My brother asked, his fingers violently attacking the buttons on the controller, the sounds of loud gunshots and footsteps responding to his every button mash. “We’re in the middle of a round.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice even. I pushed off the doorframe and stepped back into the bathroom, catching the way Nicholas’s gaze dropped briefly, taking in more of me now that I wasn’t partially hidden.

I ducked back into my room, the air feeling heavier as I padded toward the kitchen. My heart was racing, every nerve in my body alive with the lingering awareness of his gaze. It wasn’t just my brother’s casual request that stuck with me, but the way Nicholas had looked at me — like I wasn’t just his friend’s little sister sneaking glances from behind doors.

In the kitchen, I opened the pantry and pulled out the cookies and chips, my nerves bubbling as I anticipated the moment I’d walk into my brother’s room wearing this outfit. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected — maybe a quick glance and nothing more, but the idea was scintillating either way.

My mom strutted into the kitchen then, still in her work clothes. “I thought I told you not to wear that when people were over,” she smirked knowingly. I had a little bit of a tendency to defy orders.

I glanced over my shoulder, feigning innocence. “It’s hot out,” I shrugged my shoulders as I closed the pantry and scampered past her with snacks in tow.

I returned to my brother’s room with the snacks in hand, pausing at the cracked bathroom door before taking a breath and sheepishly walking in. I stepped fully into the room, my bare legs feeling more exposed than they ever had before. “Here,” I called, keeping my tone neutral, like nothing about this moment felt significant, even though my pulse told a different story.

My brother barely spared me a glance as I set the snacks down in front of them, his attention glued to the screen. Nicholas, on the other hand, wasn’t as discreet. He leaned back slightly, one arm draped over his knee as he finally looked up from the game. His dark brown eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate, lingering just long enough to make me feel like every inch of my skin was on display under his gaze.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t smirk or tease the way he usually did. My cheeks burned as I shifted on my feet, my fingers brushing against the hem of my shorts, unsure what to do with myself.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Nicholas said finally, his voice cutting through the tension. It was smooth, casual.

I smiled softly, more out of nerves than anything else, and started to retreat toward the door. “Don’t get used to it,” I mumbled, glancing over my shoulder. I cast one last glance at Nicholas. He was still watching me, his head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was suppressing a smirk. It was like he knew exactly what I was doing.

Now, I don’t know why I did it, maybe because I was so flustered that I didn’t notice or maybe I subconsciously knew what I was doing, but I left my bathroom door open just a smidge, enough for the soft light of my room to spill out and shine through the darkness of the bathroom, like a beacon in the night begging to be followed. Maybe it was a dare, or maybe I was just curious to see if he’d take the bait.

I threw myself onto my bed, stomach down, trying to calm my ever-racing heart as I replayed the moment Nicholas’s gaze lingered on me. I couldn’t bite back the smile forming on my lips as I pictured the look in his eye when I walked into the room. It sent a thrill through me. Did I finally manage to pique his interest as much as he piqued mine?

My heartbeat was unrelenting, so I reached for the book on my nightstand, hoping that reading a few pages might calm me. Of course, though, I wasn’t focusing on the pages. How could I? When my older brother’s hot best friend was right on the other side of that door?

Eventually, the sound of video games and laughter died down as the minutes ticked into the late night, replaced by muffled conversation before trailing off into complete silence. The only sound I could hear, now, was the occasional turn of the page and my thumping heartbeat, maybe the imperceptible hum of the lightbulb coming from my bedside lamp.

And on the other side, Nicholas could also hear the faint scratch of a page turning, too. He was lying down in his makeshift bed of blankets on the floor, quietly scrolling on his phone. The screen of his phone cast a faint glow on his face, but his attention wasn’t on the timeline of tweets he had planned on reading through. It was on that tiny crack of light spilling into the dark bathroom, the faintest view of my room on the other side.

He couldn’t sleep. How could he? The tight, little number I was bold enough to wear but still shy enough to hide behind the door frame, the way I glanced at him when I passed through to give them snacks, the subtle sway of my hips as I disappeared back into the bathroom to my room as if I hadn’t worn that number on purpose. And now, the crack in my door was basically daring him to walk through.

I didn’t know it, but it wasn’t the first time he’d noticed me. He always looked forward to seeing me scamper through the kitchen as quickly as possible whenever they took it over for whatever they were doing, and he was always equally curious about what would happen behind my door, especially when he could hear me laughing with my friends or my CD player blasting Veruca Salt.

His friend — my brother — was out cold, snoring like a chainsaw. Nicholas glanced at him, then back at the door, then back at him, then back at the door. It was a bad idea; he knew it. I was off-limits. My brother hadn’t told him that explicitly, but he did express his distaste when Nicholas made an off-handed comment about me some a couple years ago and that was enough to deter him. But tonight, my brother was asleep, while Nicholas and I were still awake.

Nicholas turned his phone off then, quietly pulling the blanket off himself and standing up, padding quietly to the bathroom and closing the door to my brother’s room behind him. He tiptoed toward my door, taking a peek through the crack and hoping that maybe just indulging himself in the image of me would satiate him. But the moment he saw me on my bed — twiddling with the end of a braid or two or many as I laid on my stomach, propped up on my elbows as I read, my legs crossed at the ankles, the pajamas I wore barely covering anything — he knew just looking wouldn’t be enough.

My heart raced when I heard the faint creak of my door, but I didn’t look up right away, choosing to pretend I was so engrossed in my book that I couldn’t be bothered to see what had made the noise. What did make me glance over my shoulder, though, was the light clinking of glass.

I turned my head and saw Nicholas leaning against the doorframe curiously inspecting a nail polish I had left on the dresser that was near the bathroom door, a smirk on his face. That set my heart racing.

“Nicholas,” I spoke quietly as I closed the book in my hands, watching him as he continued to fiddle with the things on my dresser — nail polishes, bracelets, a hairbrush.

Nicholas didn’t say anything at first, just let his dark brown eyes sweep across my dresser one last time before they swept across my room, then finally landed on me and took in the scene — the book in my hands, the way I was sprawled across the bed, the faint flush on my cheeks that I couldn’t seem to shake.

He glanced over his shoulder back toward my brother’s bathroom door, still closed, before looking back at me. “Are you usually up this late?” he said finally, his voice low, like he was afraid of breaking the stillness of the moment.

I turned onto my side, giving him a better view of me in my pajamas. His gaze lingered on my torso, and I bit back a smile. “Sometimes.”

He dropped his arms and stepped in, his movements unhurried as he quietly closed the door behind him and looked around my room. I couldn’t believe it. He was in my room.

“Your brother’s out cold,” he said, almost like an explanation, as if I didn’t already know. He turned his head to look at the Heart poster on my wall, arching his back to stretch, his shirt riding up a little to show off the happy trail adorning his lower abdomen. I just about choked at the sight.

When he looked back at me, he had that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “You left your door open.”

“Did I?” I asked quietly, lying back down on my stomach but looking at him over my shoulder.

His smirk deepened, like he didn’t believe me for a second. “Didn’t you?”

My stomach flipped, the challenge in his tone making it impossible to look away, but I had to if I didn’t want him to see the heat rising to my cheeks. So I turned my attention back to my book but the words blurred together. I couldn’t focus, not at all. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

He stepped further into the room until he was at the edge of my bed looking down at me, still smirking. “You don’t sound very convincing.”

I shrugged, letting my fingers trail along the edge of the pages. I decided to give him an out, something that would test his resolve. “My brother’s gonna kill you if he finds out.”

He hesitated, just for a moment, before sitting down next to me. The mattress dipped under his weight, and I shifted slightly to face him. “I know,” he whispered as his eyes trailed my bare legs.

He slowly laid down on his side beside me, and it all started with a touch — his hand reaching out to rest on my thigh, his palm hot against my skin. My breath hitched, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let my leg drift closer toward him, the faintest encouragement.

“I should go,” he murmured softly, his fingers brushing up and stopping just short at the hem of my shorts. His eyes flicked up to mine, gazing at me through his abundance of eyelashes.

I couldn’t look away from his dark brown eyes, the way they softened as they met mine, yet held something deeper — something that made my pulse race. I was quiet for a moment, savoring the heat of his hand on my hand, the warmth spreading all over my body. “Yeah, you should,” I whispered, my voice lacking any real conviction.

Neither of us moved.

Nicholas’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he just watched me, his gaze flicking to my lips, then back to my eyes. His hand inched higher, stopping just at the edge of my shorts again, as if he were waiting for a signal. And I gave him it, letting my book fall through my fingers and shifting closer toward him.

That was all it took. He leaned in, his hand sliding up my thigh as his lips captured mine in a kiss that stole the air from my lungs. It was slow at first, like he was testing the waters, but it didn’t take long for the tension between us to boil over. Quickly, the kiss deepened. His hands roamed, pulling me closer as I melted into him, my fingers tangling in his hair.

“Tell me to go,” he murmured against my lips, his breath warm on my skin.

I tugged him closer, “Stay.”

Nicholas’s weight pressed into the mattress as he rolled me over, his hands sliding along the curve of my waist and down to my hips as our legs tangled together. My fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him closer as the world outside my room melted away. Every shift of his body against mine, every brush of his fingertips against bare skin, ignited a fire I couldn’t ignore.

His lips trailed down to my jaw, slow and deliberate, sending a wave of heat rushing through me. His breath was warm against my neck, and I arched into him instinctively, feeling his body tense in response.

I tugged at the hem of his shirt, and he obliged, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor. My eyes traced the lines of his shoulders, the way his muscles moved as he leaned back down, his delicate chain dangling over me, his hands framing my face like he needed to commit every detail to memory. My own hands wandered, exploring the warmth of his skin, the tension in his back as he pressed closer.

The cool air hit my skin as he slid the strap of my camisole off my shoulder, his lips replacing it with a trail of soft, heated kisses that moved to my collarbone. My heart raced as I looked up at the ceiling of my room, every sense heightened as his hands roamed lower, his touch firm but unhurried.

My breath caught in my throat as Nicholas’s lips continued their slow descent, every kiss igniting sparks along my skin. My hands moved of their own accord, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as I arched into his touch. His hand slid under the hem of my camisole, his fingers splaying over my ribs as he paused to look at me, his dark brown eyes asking the silent question.

I nodded, and his lips were back on mine in an instant, the kiss growing more intense, as he bunched the fabric in his palm and pulled it off of me, leaving me bare-chested. He pulled back and drank the sight of me in, his jaw going tight as he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against mine.

For a moment, I grew self-conscious, thinking maybe he would pull away completely now that he’s seen me half-naked. Maybe I didn’t measure up to the girls he’s been with. “Is something wrong?” I quietly asked.

Nicholas shook his head almost immediately, his forehead still resting against mine as he let out a shaky breath. His hands moved to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks as his dark brown eyes opened to meet mine. They were softer now, but no less intense.

“No, fuck no,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, like he was trying to find the right words and failing. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brown eyes locking onto mine. “You’re perfect, (Y/N). That’s the problem.”

The raw honesty in his tone made my breath hitch, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I swallowed hard, my gaze dropping for a moment before flicking back up to him. “Then why did you—?”

“I needed a second,” he interrupted softly, his voice almost strained as he cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my flushed skin. “You’re just—you’re making it really hard to be the good guy here.”

His words sent a rush of heat through me, my heart pounding in my chest as I searched his face. “I’m not asking you to be the good guy,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.

“You sure?” he murmured against my lips, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because if we do this, there’s no going back. Your brother’s gonna kill me if he finds out, and I don’t—” He broke off, his jaw tightening as he pulled back to look at me again. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

I reached up to frame his face, my thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as I held his gaze. “I want this, Nic,” I said softly, my voice steady now despite the chaos in my chest.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to figure out if I really meant it. Then, with a quiet curse, he groaned quietly, like he was fighting an internal battle, before he leaned down to kiss me again. This time, it wasn’t tentative or testing — it was all-consuming.

I gasped softly into the kiss, my hands gripping his shoulders as he pulled me closer, his body pressing against mine with a heat that made it impossible to think straight. His hands slid down my sides, his touch rougher now, less restrained, like he was done holding himself back.

Nicholas’s lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, and I couldn’t bite back the quiet moan that escaped me. He groaned in response, his fingers gripping my hips tightly as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. “Jesus, baby, you’re gonna wake the whole house,” he muttered, his voice rough and muffled against my skin.

I let out a breathless laugh, tugging on his hair to make him look at me. “You’re the one talking so much,” I shot back, my voice barely above a whisper.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in annoyance. “Oh, is that right?” he said, his tone low and dangerous as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear. “You’re the one moaning like you don’t give a shit if your brother hears us.”

My cheeks burned, and I glared at him, my hand smacking lightly against his chest. “You’re an asshole,” I muttered, but the smirk at the end of my lips betrayed any conviction I’d intended to convey.

Nicholas caught my wrist gently, grinning and clearly pleased with himself, and pinned it against the pillows above my head, “And you’re a fucking tease,” he whispered, a teasing glint in his eyes. He planted a wet kiss on my lips, murmuring, “Okay, we both stay quiet then, deal?”

I bit my lip, narrowing my eyes at him, the corner of my mouth twitching with a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Fine,” I whispered, my voice barely audible but dripping with playful defiance.

Nicholas’s grin deepened, and he leaned down, brushing his nose against my own before pulling back completely and resting back on his heels as his fingers trailed down to the waistband of my shorts. His fingers lingered, his touch light but deliberate as his dark brown eyes locked onto mine. His teasing smirk faltered, replaced by something softer, something that made my heart pound harder than I thought possible. He hesitated for just a second, like he needed one last confirmation, and I gave him a small nod, my breath catching in my throat as I lifted my hips slightly.

He exhaled softly, almost like he was steadying himself, before he slid my shorts and underwear down in one smooth motion, leaving me completely bare beneath him. The air felt cool against my skin, and I had to fight the instinct to cover myself. Instead, I forced myself to hold his gaze, my cheeks flushed and my heart racing.

Nicholas’s eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate, like he was committing every detail to memory. He let out a quiet curse, his jaw tightening as he ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he leaned down to rest his forehead on my stomach and leaving lingering kisses near my navel.

My fingers instinctively found their way to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as I looked down at him. He rested there for a moment, his breath warm against my skin as he closed his eyes, like he needed a second to process everything.

I let out a soft laugh, the sound trembling slightly as I tugged gently on his hair. “You’re so dramatic,” I teased, my voice light but full of warmth. “Are you sure you’ve seen a girl naked before?”

He shot his head up, his eyebrows flared in surprise, and for a split second, I thought I might’ve caught him off guard. But then his smirk returned, sharper now, and he grabbed both my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head as he shifted to cover me completely. “Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that,” he growled playfully, his voice dropping an octave as his free hand skimmed down my side, his touch light but promising.

I squirmed under him, trying to hide the way his teasing touch was already getting to me. I don’t know what it was about Nicholas that brought out this side of me — teasing, defiant — but I loved it.

“You’re such a—” My words cut off in a gasp as he pressed his hips against mine, the sudden pressure of his sweatpants against my bare self making me lose my train of thought completely.

Nicholas chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “What was that, baby?” he murmured, his tone smug. “You were saying something?”

I glared at him, my cheeks burning, and wriggled my wrists under his palm, “Nic, the longer you’re not inside me, the more time you’re giving my brother to wake up.”

Nicholas froze, his dark eyes widening for just a second before narrowing into something almost predatory. The smirk tugging at the corner of his lips turned wicked, and his grip on my wrists tightened slightly as he pressed his forehead against mine. But then, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Fine,” he murmured, his tone dropping even lower, sending a shiver down my spine.

He released my wrists, and I immediately brought my hands to his chest, letting my fingers trail over the defined muscles before sliding them down toward the waistband of his sweatpants. My heart raced, my cheeks burning as I hooked my fingers under the fabric.

Nicholas shifted slightly, propping himself on his elbows as he watched me, his dark eyes hooded with intensity. The faint smirk tugging at his lips remained as I hesitated for a moment, my fingers gripping the waistband of his sweatpants. I could feel his breath on my skin, warm and steady, as if he were daring me to go further.

Slowly, deliberately, I tugged the fabric down his hips, the soft material sliding against his skin. His muscles tensed slightly beneath my touch, and I couldn’t help the way my breath hitched as his length slipped out — ready and aching. The tension between us was palpable, the room heavy with anticipation as I pushed his sweatpants lower until they pooled around his knees.

Nicholas’s hands found my hips, his grip firm but not rough as he leaned down to kiss me again, his lips capturing mine in a way that made me forget everything else. His body pressed against mine, the heat of his skin sending a rush of warmth through me as his hands trailed up my sides, fingers skimming the sensitive skin just beneath my ribs.

For a moment, we just stayed like that, our breaths mingling as we stared at each other, the unspoken tension between us reaching its peak. Nicholas’s gaze was intense, his dark eyes searching mine as if he were asking for permission one last time.

I didn’t bother nodding. Instead, I reached to wrap my hand around his length and guide him in, to which Nicholas responded by burying his head in the crook of my neck and muttering a quiet, “Fuck,” before reaching to replace my hand with his own. “You’re so wet already.”

The air seemed to still, the only sound in the room being the soft rustle of sheets and our breathing — ragged, uneven. Nicholas moved slowly at first, his grip on my hips tightening as he inserted himself into me. I let out a whimper as I felt every inch of him, the way he stretched and filled me, his warmth burning into me like a fire I never wanted to put out.

My hand found its way to his back, my nails digging lightly into his skin as I arched beneath him, a quiet gasp slipping past my lips. “Nic…” His name came out in a breathy whisper, and the sound of it seemed to spur him on. His hips moved, deliberate and measured, and every movement sent shockwaves through me.

“Baby,” he murmured into my neck, his voice strained and breathless. “You feel so fucking good.”

The heat pooling in my stomach grew with every roll of his hips, my body responding to him in a way that felt instinctual, like I had been waiting for this moment all along. His hand slid down to grip my thigh, pulling it higher around his waist as he angled himself deeper, drawing a sharp cry from me that I quickly muffled with my free hand.

“Shh,” he teased softly, his lips brushing against my ear as he chuckled, though his voice was tight with restraint. His breath was warm against my skin as he added, “You don’t want your brother barging in, do you?”

I shot him a glare through my haze of pleasure, but it was useless. Nicholas was in control now, and he knew it. The rhythm of his hips changed, slower but impossibly deeper, making it even harder to stay quiet. I bit down on my lip, my hand reaching to clutch at the sheets as waves of heat rolled through me with every deliberate thrust.

Nicholas shifted slightly, his lips brushing over my jawline before capturing my lips again in a kiss that was just as demanding as the way his body moved against mine. His free hand trailed up my side, his thumb grazing over the sensitive skin just below my ribs, making me shiver beneath him. His hand trailed further down, pressing down on my lower abdomen as if he could feel himself moving inside.

The added pressure made me gasp, my head tilting back as pleasure rippled through me, sharp and consuming, and quickly I covered my mouth again. Nicholas groaned in response, the sound low and guttural, and I realized just how loud he was getting. My heart raced, panic and desire tangling together as I reached up and pressed my other hand over his mouth, muffling the next moan that slipped from his lips.

His dark eyes widened in surprise for a split second before narrowing, a flicker of something mischievous and dangerous sparking there. His hips slowed, the deliberate roll of his body against mine making my own breathing hitch. He didn’t protest my hand, though — instead, he leaned into it, his tongue flicking out to trace along my palm teasingly, his eyes locked onto mine as if daring me to keep him quiet.

I clenched my jaw, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was useless. Every movement of his hips, every flick of his tongue against my skin, was breaking me down piece by piece. He shifted slightly, angling deeper, and I bit down hard on my lip to stop the moan that threatened to escape.

I peeled the hand I had over my mouth, “Nic,” I hissed under my breath, my voice shaking as I glared at him. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned against my hand, his dark eyes hooded and filled with heat as his hips rolled again, drawing another muffled gasp from me. His free hand slid up my thigh, gripping firmly before pulling my leg higher around his waist, allowing him to press even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, and my fingers flexed against his face as I tried to stifle my own sounds.

Nicholas groaned again, louder this time, and I pressed my hand harder against his mouth, shooting him a warning look. “Shh,” I whispered harshly, my voice trembling as I struggled to keep my own composure.

He nodded slightly, his lips brushing against my palm in silent agreement, but the way his hips moved told me he had no intention of slowing down. If anything, his pace quickened, each thrust more precise, more deliberate, as if he were testing just how far he could push me before I completely unraveled.

My hand stayed over his mouth, but I could feel the vibrations of his muffled groans against my skin, each one sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through me. My free hand clutched at his shoulder, nails digging into his skin as my body arched beneath him, helpless to the rhythm he’d set.

The tension between us was unbearable, every movement, every touch pushing me closer to the edge. My heart pounded in my chest, my breaths coming in short, uneven gasps as I fought to stay quiet, to stay in control. But Nicholas wasn’t making it easy. The hand he was using to press down on my lower abdomen slipped between us, his fingers brushing against the sensitive spot where our bodies met, and I couldn’t stop the sharp cry that escaped me.

His eyes flicked up to mine, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as they remained muffled against my hand. He pressed his fingers harder, circling with just enough pressure to send me spiraling. My body tensed, every nerve ending on fire as pleasure crashed over me in waves, and I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. That’s when he let go of the thigh he had wrapped around his waist and guided his hand over my mouth, pressing down to muffle my sounds.

And now, we were both there, covering the other’s mouth with our hands, trying so hard to fight back our moans. All we could hear was the sounds of skin and our labored breaths blowing through our nostrils.

The room was thick with tension, every sound amplified as we moved together, muffling each other as if the act itself were part of the thrill. Nicholas’s hand covered my mouth firmly, his dark eyes locking onto mine as his hips drove deeper, more deliberate. Each thrust sent waves of heat rippling through me, my body trembling as I teetered on the edge of control.

My breaths were shallow, uneven, my free hand clutching at his shoulder as the tension in my stomach coiled tighter and tighter. His other hand slid down my thigh, pulling my leg higher around his waist to angle himself deeper, and the sensation was overwhelming. My head tilted back, the cry building in my throat muffled against his palm.

I was close — so close it felt like every nerve in my body was on fire. Nicholas must have sensed it because his pace quickened, his movements more erratic as he chased the edge with me. His lips curved into a smirk against my hand, but the dark intensity in his gaze told me he was just as affected.

When the tension snapped, it was like a dam breaking. My thighs trembled around him, my breaths coming out in sharp, uneven bursts, as I arched beneath him, a wave of pleasure crashing over me so powerful it left me shaking. Nicholas’s hand pressed tighter against my mouth, muffling the sharp cry that escaped me as I clung to him, my nails digging into his back. He groaned in response, his movements faltering as he watched me fall apart beneath him, my hand covering his mouth falling limp over my forehead.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough and strained. His hand stayed firmly over my mouth, his other sliding down to hold my hip as his pace grew erratic, desperate.

I barely had time to catch my breath before I realized he was close too. His movements grew rougher, his control unraveling as his own breathing turned ragged. The hand covering my mouth loosened slightly, and I took the opportunity to nip at his finger, earning a low growl from him as he pulled it away.

Nicholas’s eyes snapped to mine, wide with surprise. “What the hell—” he started, but I cut him off with a fierce whisper.

“You better pull out,” I hissed, my voice sharp despite the trembling in my tone.

Nicholas’s jaw tightened as my words registered, his dark eyes narrowing with a mix of frustration and urgency. His breath hitched, and I could feel the tension radiating off him as he fought for control, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. “I’ve got it,” he muttered, his voice strained and low, almost as if he were trying to reassure himself as much as me.

“Nic,” I pressed, my tone firm despite the lingering haze of pleasure coursing through me. My nails raked lightly down his back, urging him to listen, to not lose himself completely.

He nodded, his movements becoming deliberate, careful. His hand shifted to grip my waist tightly, steadying himself as his breathing grew heavier. “I’m not gonna—” His words cut off with a guttural groan, and I felt his body tremble against mine, his restraint fraying with each passing second.

At the last possible moment, Nicholas pulled out with a strangled curse, his hand reaching down to finish himself. His dark eyes fluttered shut, his jaw clenched as his release spilled across my stomach, warm and lingering. The sight of him unraveling like that, the raw vulnerability etched into his features, made my chest tighten.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was our heavy breathing, his body still hovering above mine as he tried to catch his breath. His head dipped forward, his lips brushing softly against my temple as he whispered, “Are you okay?”

I nodded, my voice catching slightly as I answered, “Yeah, I’m okay.” My hands found his shoulders, grounding both of us as he shifted to sit back on his heels. His gaze softened as it roamed over me, searching for any sign of discomfort or regret.

“I didn’t—” he started, his voice hoarse and unsteady, but I cut him off with a small smile.

“You didn’t,” I reassured him, reaching up to trace the edge of his jaw.

Nicholas exhaled sharply, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips. It wasn’t rushed or heated like before; it was gentle, filled with a quiet kind of affection that made my heart ache. When he pulled back, his fingers brushed lightly across my stomach, his touch careful and almost apologetic.

“Let me clean you up,” he murmured, his voice soft as he reached over to grab a discarded shirt, maybe mine, from the edge of the bed.

I rolled my eyes, my lips twitching in amusement as I watched him carefully clean me up, his movements surprisingly gentle despite the teasing smirk still tugging at his lips. When he was done, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my stomach, his lips lingering for just a moment before lying down beside me, pulling me into his arms without hesitation. His body was warm and solid against mine, his breathing still slightly uneven as his fingers traced idle patterns on my shoulder.

The silence that followed was thick but not uncomfortable. Nicholas’s fingers moved gently across my skin, as if he were trying to map every inch of me. My cheek rested against his chest, his heartbeat steady and grounding beneath my ear. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment, even as a thousand unspoken thoughts swirled between us.

It felt natural, lying there with him. His hand slipped to my hair, tangling in the strands softly, and I let out a contented sigh. Neither of us said anything for a long time, the stillness interrupted only by the sound of our breaths syncing together.

Nicholas was the one to break the silence, his voice low and husky. “What time is it?”

I blinked, my mind still clouded from everything that had just happened. I tilted my head toward my bedside table, squinting at the digital clock. “Almost three,” I mumbled.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face while tightening the arm he had around me briefly before letting out a resigned sigh. “Your brother’s gonna wake up in a few hours.”

“Exactly,” I muttered, untangling myself from his arms and sitting up, “which is why you need to get out of here.”

Nicholas smirked as he sat up as well, his dark brown eyes watching me closely. “Kicking me out already?” he teased, his voice low and playful. “I’m starting to feel used, baby.”

I rolled my eyes, climbing out of bed and walking past my dirty camisole that was discarded on the floor to reach into my dresser and pull out a clean shirt, “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“You’re the one that asked me to stay,” he quipped, leaning back on his hands as if he had all the time in the world.

I shot him a warning look, but it only seemed to amuse him further. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I grabbed my shorts from the floor as I walked back over to the bed and tossed them in his direction. “If you’re so eager to hang around, you can help me get dressed. I think that’s the least you can do after fucking your best friend’s sister.”

Nicholas froze for a moment, his smirk faltering as his dark eyes widened slightly at my words. A laugh escaped him, low and incredulous, as he shook his head. “Wow, you really don’t hold back, do you?”

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at him, smirking. “Am I wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he grabbed my shorts from where they landed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he beckoned me closer with a playful glint in his eyes. “Alright, princess. Let me help.”

With an exaggerated sigh, I stepped closer, though the flush creeping up my neck betrayed my nonchalance. Nicholas patted his thigh, gesturing for me to stand between his legs. His hands were warm as they slid up my calves to my thighs, holding me steady as he crouched slightly to help me into the shorts.

His movements were slow, deliberate, as he guided the fabric up my legs. He tugged the waistband gently, his thumbs brushing against my hips before snapping the shorts into place. His dark eyes flicked up to meet mine, and for a moment, the teasing glint softened into something quieter, something that made my heart stutter.

I reached for the clean shirt I’d left on the bed, but Nicholas beat me to it, picking it up with a smirk. “Arms up,” he instructed, his tone mockingly authoritative as he held the shirt open.

Rolling my eyes but unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips, I raised my arms, letting him slip the shirt over my head. His hands brushed against my skin as he adjusted the hem, smoothing it down over my waist. When he leaned back on his hands to admire his handiwork, his smirk returned, but it was softer now.

“There,” he murmured, his voice lower now. “Good as new.”

“Thanks,” I said softly, my stomach fluttering. I bent down and reached for Nicholas’s clothes and tossed them to him.

Nicholas caught the bundle of his clothes easily, the smirk on his face growing as he stood to pull his sweatpants back on. I watched as he stuffed his dick into his sweats, my cheeks growing hot as he then slipped into his shirt. The chain around his neck glinted faintly in the dim light as he adjusted it, his dark eyes flicking back to mine.

Nicholas smiled softly, running a hand through his tousled hair as he stepped toward the bathroom door.

I followed him as he reached for the door, keeping my voice low. “Please don’t tell anyone about tonight.”

He turned to face me, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe as his smirk softened into something more genuine. “Relax, baby. Your secret’s safe with me.” The teasing lilt in his voice was gone, replaced by a quiet sincerity that made my chest tighten.

I nodded, swallowing hard as I tried to ignore the fluttering in my stomach. “Good.”

He pushed the door open slowly, peeking into the bathroom to make sure it was still quiet on the other side. Just as he stepped through, he glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk returning in full force. He winked, disappearing into the bathroom with a quiet click of the door.

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile. I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door as the reality of everything that had just happened settled over me.

My skin still tingled everywhere he’d touched me, his hands, his lips, the way his voice had dropped when he whispered my name. It all replayed in my head, over and over and over. With a deep breath, I turned back to my bed, doing a horrible job of biting back the smirk on my lips.

I should’ve been panicking — thinking about what my brother would do if he found out, but all I could feel was a heady mix of excitement and disbelief. I had just slept with Nicholas, my brother’s best friend.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x fem!reader #nicholas alexander chavez rpf #nicholas alexander chavez imagine #nicholas alexander chavez fanfic #nicholas alexander chavez fic #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez x fem!reader #fic-o-meter

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rhube · 2 days ago

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As someone who's had actual stalkers, I'm not comfortable with this being called stalking.

I put fics up because I want people to read and enjoy them, something I need comments to let me know! It's not stalking!

It can get weird if you start trying to force a deeper level of friendship I'm not reciprocating based only on liking my fics, but seriously, that's on a whole other level. I've had people ask me to join discords in comments of fics because they think we could be friends and that's totally fine. I don't have the physical or mental health to deal with Discord, but I appreciate the invite.

It gets weird when comparative strangers start messaging me all the time on other platforms (like Tumblr), without checking that's OK first, acting like we're best friends now. Or if you start acting like you can tell me what to write in my fics, or giving unsolicited criticism. That starts approaching stalker, and I have had to block for it in the past.

But if all you're doing is making comments on my fic telling me what you enjoy, or giving me double kudos, or hearts or whatever, that is *seriously* not stalking.

Stalking involves the desire to have access to me at all times whether I want that or not. But I put fics up because I *want* positive comments.

Nothing beats the feeling when you start getting comments on every fic in a fandom or ship from one person, and it’s clear that they’re going on a fic-binge.

#stalking #fanfic #comments #fanfic comments

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taojjang · 3 days ago

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𐙚 riize reactions: i want to marry you .ᐟ

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ advent calendar, day twenty-two! pairing: fiance!riize x reader, genre: fluff! warnings: pure love <3

synopsis: there's no better time to confess your never-ending love for someone than the holidays!

note: we're on the final four! ty guys sm for enjoying the advent calendar series i appreciate it so so so much :( i hope you guys are looking forward to the holidays coming up!! this one is kinda longgg i was feeling a bit too romantic so i hope you have the time and patience for this

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ˚ ۪ ⋆ ୨୧

shotaro . . .

since the beginning of november, shotaro had planned a romantic getaway for the holidays. he booked the resort the second you agreed to his idea. from then until the day he drove you to the resort, he wouldn't stop talking about how excited he was. on christmas night, you finally realized why he was so excited.

taro knew you wanted to try ice skating. every time you'd open instagram, you'd watch reels about cute winter date ideas, and somehow ice skating was always a suggestion. you've been bugging taro to take you ice skating. the two of you got ready together in your fancy hotel room, taro letting you pick out your matching outfits. after you got all dolled up for the date, you were on your way to the skii resort.

taro held your hand as you entered the skii lift, reassuring you everything would be fun. but you were terrified. the lift seemed to be going way faster than you anticipated, causing your anxiety to palpitate in your chest. but once you entered the skii lift, your every thought was clouded by the breathtaking view ahead of you. but within seconds of reaching the mountain peak, you felt a tap on your shoulder. as you turned to face your boyfriend, your gaze was stolen by a glistening ring in taro's hand. your heart grew lighter as you looked down into taro's doting eyes.

"you've made every day of my life feel like a dream. would you let me live in your fairytale for the rest of our lives?"

the two of you held hands and explored the snowy mountain together, not being able to stop giggling as the idea of being with each other for the rest of your lives sank in.

eunseok . . .

eunseok is truly the most nurturing boyfriend you could ask for. no matter how busy or tired he is, he'd drop anything and come running to you the second you call his name. but with such a caring boyfriend comes so much nagging. eunseok is always complaining about how you spend too much money ordering food when he could just cook for you, or how you need to prioritize paying bills before buying new clothes. so of course it shocked you when he suddenly told you he was taking you to a tropical resort for christmas.

but of course, you couldn't complain. you were already envisioning so many cute things to do with eunseok on the vacation. you were a bit too excited, packing your things the same night although you had two more weeks until your flight. but it was all worth it. the resort he booked was absolutely stunning. you had your own little house on the beach and you bedroom had a window view of the deep turquoise waves.

the next few days, eunseok would take you on fancy tours of the island and luxurious dinner dates every night. you felt a bit emotional when things were coming to an end. the amount of beautiful memories you made with eunseok this week was all starting to overwhelm you. you felt like your love for him was at its capacity. seeing how sentimental you were, eunseok decided to lift your spirits by taking you on the final activity he had booked: a romantic ride on a yacht. it was absolutely lovely sitting beside eunseok with a glass of champagne in your hand. the wind breezed through your hair, refreshing every lingering thought in your mind. as you soaked in the tropical sun, eunseok called from behind you. "i think you'll like this view more." your heart stilled in your chest as you turned to eunseok, who was on one knee with the most stunning diamond ring you've ever seen

"you're the only person i'd wish to share the rest of my memories with. darling, will you marry me?"

sungchan . . .

every date with sungchan is typically organized by you. sungchan is quite clumsy and unorganized, so whenever he plans something it usually goes wrong. though you don't mind it and enjoy the thrill of how unpredictable his dates are, he's too insecure to plan dates. after all, sungchan wants the best for you.

but he knew you couldn't plan his proposal. he wanted it to be a complete surprise, which he succeeded in. you were shocked by how beautiful the house looked when you got home from spending time with your family for christmas. there was a romantic trail of rose petals leading you from the entrance to the dinner table, which was prettily decorated with fancy candles and flowers. though sungchan was such a klutz, you were proud of him for how luxurious he made the house.

everything was going as planned: he cooked up his best dish and it turned out delicious having you get up for seconds. you even complimented how well he planned out this date. to finish off the night, sungchan poured you a glass of pink champagne and served two slices of your favorite cake. the two of you were eating cake by the fireplace and sharing affectionate words with one another until suddenly, sungchan winced in pain and he covered his mouth with his hand. concerned and panicked, you put down your plate and leaned closer asking him what was wrong. you were surprised to see sungchan pull out a small object from his mouth. it was a diamond ring. you could see the embarrassment rise to his face as he looked down at the ring. "well, that wasn't supposed to be there..." as you realized what had just happened, you bursted out into laughter and took sungchan into your arms. "oh my gosh, sungchan, you're the cutest!" sungchan whined and threw his head into his hands crying, "it was going so well!" you smiled and left a doting kiss on sungchan's lips. "it's alright baby, now's your chance." sungchan sat up and cleared his throat, taking your hands into his and looking into your eyes.

"i know that was so stupid of me, but i promise to take you on countless more dates even better than this one. would you be my wife?"

wonbin . . .

wonbin loves home dates. whenever wonbin is in the mood to take you on a date, the destination is almost always his living room. something about the intimacy of being alone in such a comfortable space makes him so much sweeter than usual. but the christmas spirit makes wonbin even sweeter.

the two of you have a holiday tradition of going on a date to the annual christmas light festival at the nearby park. after walking around and taking cute pictures of every display, you would both find a seat in front of the frozen lake and share one early christmas gift.

but this year, wonbin forgot all about your gift. you stood in front of him with a blue gift bag in your hands, staring at him in disbelief as he stood empty-handed. you were furious. you'd been keeping up this tradition for five years, how could he forget? wonbin had even been bragging endlessly about how amazing your gift is, yet he conveniently forgot to bring it with him. you sat down on the bench and crossed your arms, not daring to look at him. all you could do was sulk as he cooed apologies. but your tough demeanor was soon cracked when wonbin sang, "listen baby, i can make it up to you, hm? look at me." finally giving in and turning to face him, your heart dropped to your stomach. wonbin got on one knee ahead of you, pulling out a small black velvet case from his pocket.

"you're the best gift i could ever receive. i'd never trade you for anything else in the world. will you marry me?"

seunghan . . .

seunghan spoils you rotten all throughout the year. you're having a hard day? dinner date! you just got a promotion? shopping spree! you gave him a few extra kisses that morning? flowers at your doorstep! after all, you're his entire world. what better way to show you that than giving you everything you could possibly ask for?

christmas is your favorite time of the year. you love going on all of the winter dates seunghan plans and enjoying the christmas spirit with him. but it gets a bit stressful sometimes. every day, there's at least two more gifts under the christmas tree despite not asking for a single thing this year. since seunghan spends so much money on you, you told him not to fret about christmas gifts this year and to focus on his family and friends. but its obvious those words didn't stick with him. by the time christmas eve came, more than half of the gifts under the tree were for you. you went to bed that night excited to open all of the gifts he'd gotten for you.

but you woke up to a christmas tree with no gifts beneath it. the tree skirt was bare with no boxes in sight. instead, four bouquets of flowers were sitting where the gifts usually were. confused, you called for seunghan in hopes he could explain what happened. but he never answered. as you investigated further, you noticed a single gift sitting on the branches of the tree. your eyes welled with tears as it revealed a silver ring with a stunning blue diamond. you turned around to see seunghan standing at the doorway with all of your gifts and another bouquet.

"what do you say, angel? would you take my hand in marriage?"

sohee . . .

as much as sohee loves you, it's rare for him to express said love through physical touch. here and there, he'd hold your hand as you walk beside each other or he'd brush your hair behind your ear when you're resting against his shoulder. but typically, he struggles to openly express his affection.

so of course you suspected something was off when he awkwardly held your hand for days straight. since the day before christmas eve, sohee's been so much more cuddly than you're used to. after spending the holidays together for the nth time, he wouldn't leave your side. he was practically clinging onto you from the moment he woke up to the moment he fell asleep in your arms. though you loved every second of it, you began to worry.

to end off christmas day on a cozy note, you put on your coziest sweater and got comfortable in front of the fireplace. not even a few seconds later, sohee hesitantly sat beside you, linking his arm around yours and resting against your shoulder. you pulled the blanket over the two of you and looked down at the clingy boy beside you. resting your hand on his cheek and stroking his soft skin, you asked out of pure concern, "sohee baby, is something wrong? is there something from your christmas list that i missed?" sohee chuckled and shook his head, snuggling closer to you. "what? of course not. i just... have a lot on my mind." even the slightest pout on sohee's face caused you immense discomfort and pain. you couldn't stand hearing he was stressed. "tell me about it, what's upsetting you?" sohee took a few seconds to simply breathe and take in your presence. swallowing back all of his fear, he looked up at you and let everything fall from his lips. "i think... i think i wanna marry you." your heart stood completely still. not a single breath escaped your lips. it was as if your entire world had froze. your love for sohee began overflowing in the form of tears.

"i've never felt so much love for someone as long as i've lived. i want to marry you, y/n."

anton . . .

christmas is always so serious for anton. he does not play when it comes to the holiday festivities. from november 1st all the way through january 31st, your house is full of the prettiest christmas decorations and even gifts. anton buys tons and tons of gifts for you that could last even past christmas. all year round, he takes notes on what items you express a desire for and he brings home all of those gifts on christmas. he just wants nothing but the best for you.

you're far too precious to anton. everything you do makes him feel so overwhelmingly in love with you. no matter how cranky you are, anton will always spoil you with snacks and affection every night. so of course he goes above and beyond for christmas, seizing the opportunity to spoil you rotten.

but you didn't expect there to be this many presents under the tree. you shook your head in both disbelief and astonishment. after eating a fancy breakfast anton had prepared, he urged you to open all of your gifts. you were more than touched to see all of the things you've mentioned to him sitting under the tree. from new clothes to fancy jewelry, anton covered everything you wished for. just when you thought things couldn't get any better, you opened the final box. inside lied a white teddy bear and a pink book sitting beneath it. you wound emotional flipping through the pages and seeing all of the prettiest photos he's taken with you, from the lowest times to the happiest memories you could recall. lying in the center of the last page was a gift you've been waiting for since the moment you met anton. it was a promise ring. looking up at anton with love flowing down your cheeks, you couldn't help but cry out of pure happiness.

"the happiest moments of my life were spent with you, y/n, and i want nothing more than to make even more with you. may i be your husband?"

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ˚ ۪ ⋆ ୨୧

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ tag list! (ask or comment to be added!)

@endtostartbreathin @gacktsa @hanninova @ramyeonzprincess @taroddori

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marsdql · 23 hours ago

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Finders, keepers ! — part.2

⌖ p. 𝘮𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢!𝘭𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨 ⤫ 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳﹒wc: 2.3k﹒g . 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, t𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳, smut, angst﹒cw. 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦/𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦, 𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨/𝘢𝘣𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦/𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴, 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴, degrading, smut, (p in v), possession, masturbation﹒tgl: @rii7eis7 @lavxndxrsworld @babygirlskz98 @profoundruinsunknown @lilmarsh-t @shadowyperfectionllama

marea talks; part 2 of finder’s keepers! I’m shadowbanned guys it’s been so bad… so reblogs r very appreciated atm.. okay enjoy | not proofread..

ᡣ𐭩 synopsis ﹒ After this mysterious mafia boss captured you and tied you up, the last thing you expected was to belong to him completely…

— 18+ . AHEAD ────୨ৎ──── MINORS . DNI —

You flinched at the deep groan, your body tensing up as the man’s hand trailed lazily down your back. “Darling, I asked you a question,” Mr. Lee said, his tone calm but laced with authority. His fingers curled into your hair, tugging slightly to force your gaze upward. “I don’t like repeating myself.”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammered, your voice trembling. The tight restraints around your limbs made it impossible to shift away from him.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “That’s not an answer, sweetheart. Try again.”

“Yes,” you whispered. “I slept… okay.”

Mr. Lee hummed, his fingers trailing from your hair to the back of your neck. The touch sent shivers down your spine, a mix of fear and something you couldn’t quite name. “Good. At least you’re honest. Unlike your little ex-boyfriend.”

You flinched at the mention of Damien. The reality of the situation hit you like a brick—he had betrayed you. Sold you off to pay his debts. And now, here you were, tied up and at the mercy of this man.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Lee chuckled, low and deep. “Doing what, doll? Keeping you safe? Treating you better than that pathetic excuse of a man ever did?”

“Safe?” you repeated, incredulous. “You call this safe?”

He tilted his head, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “You think Damien would’ve kept you safe? Do you even realize how far up his neck he was in trouble? If I hadn’t stepped in, you’d be in a much worse situation right now. Trust me, sweetheart, I’m the best option you’ve got.”

You bit your lip, refusing to respond. Part of you wanted to argue, to fight back, but his presence was overwhelming. He radiated power, and you knew better than to push him too far.

“Let’s get something straight,” Mr. Lee continued, his tone shifting to something darker. “I don’t tolerate defiance. You play nice, and I’ll make this as comfortable as possible for you. But if you try anything stupid…” He trailed off, his hand gripping your chin with enough force to make you wince. “Well, I don’t think I need to spell it out for you.”

You nodded quickly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Good girl,” he murmured, releasing your chin. He stood up, towering over you as he adjusted his suit jacket. “Now, let’s get those ropes off. Can’t have you bruised up, can we? That wouldn’t do.”

Despite his words, his actions were anything but gentle. He untied the ropes with swift, practiced movements, his grip on your arms firm as he pulled you to your feet. Your legs wobbled, and he caught you effortlessly, his hands gripping your waist to steady you.

“Careful,” he said, his voice softening for a moment. “Don’t want you hurting yourself.”

The juxtaposition of his harsh demeanor and the way he held you so carefully left you confused. Was he being kind, or was this just another way to assert control?

“You’ll stay here for now,” he said, guiding you toward a plush chair in the corner of the room. “And don’t even think about trying to leave. You won’t get far.”

“What do you want from me?” you asked, your voice breaking.

Mr. Lee crouched down in front of you, his hands resting on the arms of the chair, caging you in. “What do I want?” he repeated, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I want what’s owed to me. And until Damien figures out how to pay up, you’re mine.”

“But you said—”

“I said I’d let you go when Damien pays me back,” he interrupted, his tone sharp. “But let’s be real, sweetheart. Do you really think he’s coming back for you? He sold you off without a second thought.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he said, his hand cupping your cheek and forcing you to look at him. “Don’t waste your tears on him. He’s not worth it. You deserve better than that spineless bastard.”

The sincerity in his words took you by surprise. But before you could process it, his thumb brushed away a stray tear, his touch lingering.

“You’re mine now, doll,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I take care of what’s mine.”

The weight of his words settled heavily on your chest. Whether you liked it or not, you were at his mercy. And something told you he wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.

You woke up groggily, the dull ache in your head reminding you of the explosion. The room was dim, the soft light of a bedside lamp casting long shadows. You blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the haze, only to realize you were lying on an unfamiliar bed, your hand bandaged and resting on a pillow.

A figure loomed nearby, seated in a chair with one leg crossed over the other. Heeseung. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his tie discarded, and the top buttons of his shirt undone. His dark gaze met yours as he swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand, the amber liquid catching the light.

“Awake, finally,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with a tinge of sarcasm. He leaned back, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, watching your every move.

“What… what happened?” you croaked, your throat dry.

He smirked, tilting his head slightly as he set the glass down on the side table. “You decided to take a nap in the middle of chaos, doll. Lucky for you, I don’t leave my things behind.”

You frowned at his words. “I’m not your—”

“Careful,” he cut you off, his voice dropping an octave. He stood and approached the bed, his tall frame towering over you. “You’re in no position to argue right now.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned down, one hand pressing into the mattress beside your head while the other gently brushed a stray hair from your face. His touch was surprisingly tender, but the proximity made your heart race for reasons you didn’t want to admit.

“You’ve got quite the habit of getting yourself into trouble,” he murmured, his lips curving into a smirk. His fingers trailed down your cheek, lingering for a moment before pulling away. “It’s almost like you’re begging for someone to take care of you.”

Your cheeks flushed at his insinuation, and you turned your head away. “I didn’t ask for your help,” you muttered, your voice barely audible.

He chuckled softly, a dark, velvety sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “No, you didn’t. But that’s the thing about me, sweetheart. I don’t need permission to protect what’s mine.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and suggestive, as he straightened up and began rolling down his sleeves.

“Get some rest,” he ordered, his tone shifting back to its usual coldness. But as he turned to leave, he paused in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the dim light from the hallway.

“And don’t think about running,” he added, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “Not unless you want me to chase you.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the oppressive silence. You sank back into the pillows, your heart pounding as you replayed his words in your mind. As much as you hated to admit it, there was something about Heeseung—his presence, his intensity—that you couldn’t ignore.

And that terrified you.

You lay there in the dim light, the weight of Heeseung’s words still hanging in the air like smoke. His presence lingered in your thoughts, even though the door had closed behind him. You wanted to shake off the feeling, but the tension he left behind was palpable. He wasn’t like anyone you had ever encountered. He was dark, commanding, and there was something in his eyes that made you feel like you had no choice but to listen to him.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours before you heard footsteps approaching again. The door creaked open, and Heeseung stepped back into the room, his presence like a storm rolling in. His expression was more severe this time, and the usual cocky smirk was replaced with a look that was almost unreadable.

You instinctively tensed, but Heeseung’s eyes scanned you coldly, taking in every detail of your posture, your hands still resting on the bed. His eyes narrowed as they settled on the bandages wrapped around your hand.

“Still acting like a victim, huh?” he remarked, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “You’re not a child. Stop playing helpless.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. You knew you weren’t helpless, but the way he said it made something inside you churn. Heeseung didn’t give you a chance to respond. He moved toward you quickly, his footsteps heavy on the floor, and before you could even blink, he was standing at your bedside.

His gaze was colder than before, his presence suffocating as he loomed over you. “I’ve told you before, don’t make me repeat myself,” he said, his voice low and harsh. “You’re under my care now. And I don’t take kindly to defiance.”

You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. His words hung in the air like a chain around your neck. Heeseung’s hand shot out and gripped your wrist, his fingers tight enough to make you wince. The pain from your hand felt amplified under his touch, but you couldn’t pull away.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he demanded, his voice like gravel scraping against your skin.

You lifted your eyes, meeting his gaze, but something in you recoiled at the intensity. There was no softness in his expression now, only a dark resolve.

“I don’t like being ignored,” he continued, his grip tightening even more, making you gasp in discomfort. “And I don’t like being questioned. If you think you can get away from me, think again. There’s nowhere you can hide.”

The words stung. You had no room to breathe, no space to think. Everything he said made it feel like you were cornered, trapped. But there was something else too—a strange, terrifying pull toward him that you couldn’t deny. Despite everything, part of you couldn’t stop yourself from being drawn in by him.

Heeseung’s face was mere inches from yours now, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re mine now, and I don’t tolerate disobedience. You’ll learn that quickly enough.”

The words sent a chill down your spine, but before you could respond, he let go of your wrist with a harsh push, causing you to stumble back slightly. His eyes were still locked on you, colder than before, as if daring you to defy him again.

“Hey, sit up.” He demanded. You did as you were told. “Strip for me.” And to both you and his surprise—that is exactly what you did.

With a gentle smile and a rising and falling chest to hold back a sigh, he says, "Fuck... Thats it, baby.“ Every time he finds himself with a fist around his cock, you play his name over and over again like a broken record, letting out each syllable in a syrupy sweet whiny manner. even going so far as to press his face against one of his pillowcases, which still had your shampoo residue.

Heeseung uses his weight on the pits of your knees to keep your ass angled up as he pulls himself out to just the tip. He throbs against your opening while his red-swollen cock tip adorns your abused hole. "You desire it."

‘mhh..L-. Heesseung...’

He grunts as he pushes back, taking his time to feel you suck around every inch of his thick size. "So cute," he coos. allowing you to feel every inch of him as he shapes your hole. He jumps inside you, pushing balls deep, and you let out a loud, moaning gasp. “I own you. I have you all to myself.“

In spite of how dry and scratchy it feels, thrusting picks up speed again, gripping groans out of your throat. Heeseung tries to force you to watch by pushing your body in half with her hands on your legs. spread wide enough for you to see exactly where your pussy tugs on his shaft. You pulsate and clench around him while milking him to cum.

“you want me to stuff this lovely pussy? hmm?” He presses his hips against your ass to emphasize. You can only nod your head stupidly while your cock dips in and out of you angrily.

"H-hee…Heeseung—Heeseung.”

You throw your head back and let out a final cry as the broken prayer of his name falls from your lips. His pussy squeezed so tightly that he had to pause for a moment to catch his breath. The fresh smell of body wash fills your head with everything Heeseung, and the sweat between your bodies is secreting quickly.

He says roughly, almost to the point of exhaustion, "that’s my good girl." As he gets closer, you are further confined to the bed and have no option but to accept it. "There you go fuck yourself on my cock pretty girl, forget about your stupid boyfriend—you have—fuck, you have me”

His thrusts become unpredictable, causing your hypersensitivity to go into overdrive and turn into a meandering mess. He is pushed over the edge by the sight of your pussy taking it despite the pain and you mouthing his name. Shooting hot white strings to the final drop, lips twitching, coming to a still point. shallowly fucking the final few spurts until you writhe and scream as you toss your head back and forth.

He keeps you held open by letting your legs drop. The gush of cum that will not leave you is captivating. Holding on to the base of his length, your tiny cunt is unable to handle it and tries to push it back in.

You nod off a few seconds later; perhaps this mafia is not so horrible after all.

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rootspiral · 2 days ago

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Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 1

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1])

wow this is another difficult one to go through. okay. okay.

it's been 57 years since we saw agatha kill her mother and the salemites - agatha should now be around 74, 75. how many of those years has she spent with rio? even if they met right away, that is a comparatively short time considering their long lives (rio's especially) and the almost 300 years they stayed separated afterwards.

the first thing we notice about the scene: just how damn green it is.

the forest and the river - rio, nature, is everywhere.

we're not told why agatha is running, but the obvious answer is that she is running from rio. she's in her shift, she was probably in their bed in the little cabin in the woods going through labor. and then rio told her that nicky was going to be stillborn and, in typical agatha fashion, she bolted, she tried to buy time, to bargain, to outrun the inevitable. but nature is all around, engulfing her. trying to escape is futile.

I so appreciate how bloody this scene is but I can't watch it, it's too much. she's run as far as she could, but the baby is coming now. she bites on a lemon and pushes. no family, no coven, no midwife. the one person in her corner, rio, has betrayed her.

that shot of rio so small between the trees, and yet the same exact color as the leaves? both one tiny person and the very essence of nature everywhere? I've got chills.

rio has brought her orchid so you know how serious the situation is. and I believe the costume department called this a shepherdess outfit? she chose this gentle look to guide nicky's little innocent soul to the other side.

you need to look at plaza's acting closely in this scene because while agatha's pain is on full display, raw and open, rio is keeping her pain close to her chest, she has no other choice. she swallows, she shakes her head ever so slightly. agatha is shaking her head too, completely and utterly devastated.

Rio walks closer, strong determined steps that don't match how difficult she's finding it to speak. her face contracts with pain before she smooths it back in a neutral expression. she shrugs a little, so small and apologetic. remember how formidable she was with alice, how clear she made it look that there was no escape? she can't quite bring herself to do that here.

you know by now what it means when agatha clutches her chest like that. you've seen her poor heart.

she licks her lips, she straighten up, vicious, ready to go into battle, ready to bite and hurt and beg and do everything, everything in her power to save nicky. we get this scene at the very end, when we know agatha and rio and their dynamic so intimately, and it's so easy to read what's happening. agatha will never go down with dignity, she'll fight till her last breath.

rio gives the tiniest of nods, she takes a deep breath. she knows agatha so well, she didn't expect anything less. while agatha is all over the place, rio is so still. her eyes are huge, and there's one stubborn tear that she's not allowing to fall. this has always been their dynamic - agatha's pain is too overwhelming, it engulfs all, there's no containing it. rio has to be strong and wise for the two of them.

this is rio losing her wife and child in one tragic swoop. this is rio being cast as the villain that took nicky's life.

this is futile. we can't fight Death.

oh, but she will try. she's been trying since we've known her. since she killed that poor dog to see if wanda could do something about it.

Death makes her decision.

not only does the grim reaper refuses to reap a soul. for the first time in all of history, she actively uses her magic to stop someone from dying. it goes against everything she stands for, and it's ultimately useless, because not even the power of the greatest Green Witch can heal nicky, she can only delay the inevitable. but she does it anyway, because she loves agatha too much. even if she knows perfectly well that she's just lost her forever.

rio is apparently impassible, but look closer: her nostrils are flaring, her jaw is trembling. if rio can't kill, by logic she can't generate life either. not that she's not able to - she's not allowed to, because she needs to be impartial. because if she lets herself fall in love with someone, it might just happen that their child will be stillborn in 18th century nowhere, massachusetts and Death might not be able to be selfless and impartial about it.

and then bye bye, sacred balance.

who the fuck came up with this story? and made it about lesbians, too? was it you, jac? I don't know if I want to kiss you or scream at you.

agatha doesn't recognize the world-shattering decision, the unprecedented sacrifice rio has just made for her. she can only think about nicky. how much time has she won? a day? a month? ten years? not knowing is torture.

and look, this is agatha, selfish to her very core. but can you blame her? can you feel anything but infinite pity and understanding for her at this moment? who is even to blame here? agatha, a mother begging for her child's life? rio going against every law and everything she believes in to give her beloveds one fleeting moment of reprieve?

there is no one to blame, not even nature - it has no concept of tragedy. (now that I think about it, agatha is the only person in history who could ever made nature feel.)

you did it, agatha, you made Death go away. you made your choice. it's you and nicky now.

oh god, kathryn, don't make that face. it's too much.

I spoke no spell, I said no incantation, you were made from scratch. the utter beauty that is agatha, the witch killer, the master of spells and craft, creating a baby (almost) the old fashioned way - the magic of life that no spell could ever improve.

this is agatha claiming nicky as hers. not rio's, only hers. she sought to have him for arguably selfish but deeply human reasons: because she needed to prove her mother wrong. because she wanted someone who would love her unquestioningly, unconditionally. because she was so, so lonely, and rio alone couldn't fill the chasm in her heart. she wanted her coven to grow from two to three, but looks like it's coven two again: her whole happiness is once again tied to only one person.

the little feetsies!

this shot, dear lord. green leaves and water taking over.

this entry was a lot. I need a hug.

#agatha all along #agatha deep dive #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agathario #character analysis #nicholas scratch

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crazyvik97rpg · 2 days ago

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„Well…to be fair, that was also my assumption. William basically deep cleaned my whole house, did laundry, all that…but then he dealt with those appointments so easily so I guess I didn’t really question it anymore…“, Sebastian pondered and sighed softly.

But well - Charlotte offered to just call her if Sebastian ever needed to talk, that he couldn’t talk about with William. His facial features softened a little - and not only because his cats looked adorable licking the whipped cream from her hands. Being called ‚grandson-in-law‘ by her felt all kinds of special. Sebastian smiled softly: „Thank you. I appreciate that a lot. Also that you…so generously welcomed me into the family. It means a lot“, he smiled.

„To…maybe switch to more pleasant topics. Speaking of...grandson-in-law“, he hummed then - it was probably better to just talk about something more positive now. It would do himself good too. And he was sure grandma Charlotte would love this kind of topic anyway. „…It was already weeks ago but…I still have it so fresh in my mind. William and I kind of talked about…well, he started it actually, I‘m not sure anymore what exactly we talked about that we came to this but…we are both…well-…we would like to marry someday, basically. We never really spoke it out loud before but…well, that happened...it felt nice“, he smiled, yes, indeed a little giddy about it, „So…grandson-in-law isn’t so far off yet“, he grinned, "It will be seen though who of us will be faster...proposal-wise. Now-...not anytime soon, I'm just saying...it will happen someday".

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes.

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times.

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?”

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them.

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

#for i have sinned

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rusmii · 2 days ago

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𝜗𝜚 (HIS) ONLY

ft. dazai, chuuya, atsushi, akutagawa x fem!reader ; how they spend their december with you. cws; tooth rotting fluff, not edited, may be ooc.

love, runi. dear gosh its been so long since ive written 😭... i have a nsfw draft in the works, but i was feeling fluff atm 🙂‍↕️💗. i hope i did the boys justice 😭😭 and it doesnt seem too ooc :(. additionally, i don't think i'm going to disclose the actual reason for being offline for so long. am i sorry for deactivating? nah...

the 24th — his hands ran cold, puffs of icy air battling the hot cry of warmth. he could feel the ache in his bones, yearning for the fire a room away. "isn't it cold?" you ask dazai, who was sitting upright on the edge of your shared futon. "it is," he answers, a whisper so loud, even the wind howls with it. you shift away, holding the large coze of your blanket up high, a cave forming in mere seconds. "then get in." you say with a tired face, "i'm cold too, 'samu." warm me up, he almost missed. without protest, he curls up into your arms—embrace heating the ac he calls his blood. "can't sleep?" you ask the obvious, knowing he appreciated the sentiment anyways. "no." you can feel the small shake his head makes, as slow as a toddler may stand to understand physics, dazai is the same with himself.

it was confusing, all energy he focuses on you, is forced back on him with a stern lecture from you. every bicker and mumbles of defeat helps see the purpose of your intentions. "how are you going to take care of me, when you can't take care of yourself?" a question he could argue with, but deep down—he'd ponder the same question in his head. if he took care of himself, it'd make you happy, and him feeling unsure. if he took care of you, it'd make him happy, at the cost of your disappointment with him. take care of yourself, osamu. you'd always cry sheep as you comforted him. the same building resentment of having his freedom forced onto a schedule quietly turned into appreciation for your efforts.

you didn't leave him. didn't need to help him. you did anyways, the warm flutter he always feels whenever his hand grazes yours or the accidental eye contact throughout the day, was already telling enough. dazai wasn't obligated to show any gratefulness, and neither were you—yet you still did it. and every year since the day of your anniversary, there was always something special waiting for him. clothes, games, your love; everything, was there, in a box wrapped with his blues and your yellows. he envisions each gift to the tune of a shake from the box. each of them perfect, and what he preferred to have on this special occasion.

the 24th, his special gift waiting for you under the tree. to be opened, to be named, that's up to you to guess. but the small gift glistening underneath, cannot wait 'til morning. "i wonder what you got me." he feels your chest rumble softly. in almost an instant, the wear and tear of his job finally catches up to him. "you'll find out soon." dazai smiles against your chest, the soothing lullaby of your breathing nearly puts him to sleep. "happy anniversary, osamu. i hope you'll like my gift tomorrow." a few small circles rub dazai's head. he doesn't fall asleep until you do first. "i know i will," his voice quieter, gentler, matching the tempo of the dying breeze. and you'll love mine too, goes unheard. baby steps, baby steps were still baby steps.

the 25th — you looked just like a dream, the prettiest girl he's ever seen. in chuuya's mind, nothing quite comes and goes as slowly as your beauty. in fact, everyone assumes it's permanent by how he's so enamored—consumed with adoration. it should come as a surprise to no one, when he gifts you a personalized advent calendar to count down the days of his super secret selection of affection that chosen day. first it was hugs all day, then came kisses on the 3rd, and—oh he was so overwhelming with his love! and yet, you could never be bore of it. an excited squeal always left your mouth as soon the clock hit midnight, chuuya already making preparations for his swooning affection for the month of deer. "how's today?" he asks, seeking your approval from the early box picking. "perfect," you say, "i think you'll have me falling from the balcony with the way i'm falling for everything you do for me." he chuckles, "don't die yet, you still have a day, counting six extra, left."

the following day, you're awoken to the soft scent of cinnamon and marshmallows filling the tiniest gaps of air. you struggle to waken fully, still groggy from your late night endeavors with chuuya. matter of fact, where was he? it wasn't unusual for him to leave in the yawn of morning hours, but on his month off.. assuming the solution by the smell, you make way to the kitchen where chuuya stood behind a counter. he notices you in his vision before releasing a blinging smile. "good mornin' beautiful." a wink catches your eye, "couldn't sleep without me?" he says while patting fluffy pancakes down, each stacked imperfectly delicious with a drizzle of syrup and fruits decorating it. "and if i did?" you match his tease, creating an easy tension that could dissolve in any minute.

"well then, i won't keep ya' waiting." his lips form a familiar slant. using his ability to carry the plates and breakfast stand, chuuya's arms are already lifting you bridal. "why're you out of bed? i thought i gave myself enough time to surprise you." he nearly pouts to your face, not embarrassed to do so in front of you. you laugh it off, " 'tis okay, chu." booping him, he drops you onto the bed as some sort of petty revenge. "only if you say so." his lips met your cheek, propping the breakfast tray as you perched on your bottom. your stomach growled in anticipation, kneading the inner lining of your stomach. "well?" he asks, awaiting your approval once again. you picked up a fork and stabbed it into the fluffy pancake. bringing it up to his face, you tell him to open his mouth.

"first bite!" you nudge it closer, "okay," and without another word, chuuya took the entire thing into his mouth, "mmm - wow delicious. why don't you say; thank you chef nakahara." the mischievous in his tone was hard to miss—a smirk you wanted to wipe off his face. "you're welcome my princess." a giggle escaped with it. acting annoyed with the nickname, chuuya sneakily placed a dot of syrup on your cheek. "chuuya!" you gasp, scrambling to wipe away the sticky substance. "my bad, dear prince."

a small smack hit his shoulder, "go away!" nodding his head, he moves to get up, but is stopped by a small tug on his arm. "and bring me my gifts please." he thinks for a moment, arms relaxing and his body sinking back onto the bed. "oh? you mean the ones i threw in the fire to keep you warm last night? those presents? from under the tree?—ow! kidding!" he threw his arms up in surrender after getting smacked again, this time harder.

the 16th — when it came to december, atsushi was no stranger to the cold weather. being nearly stripped of everything but rags for clothes, he often got sick without compromise from the orphanage. when it came to his life in the agency—his life with you—he was taken care of, given affection he was denied, able to show the vulnerability the director shut down. in his own little mind, you were the stage centerpiece; a transition from the filthy pinecone to the golden star he finally got to place on his tree. "quiet," he almost flinches, until he heard a melody instead of the desolate, angry, mob. he opened his eyes, eyes blinding him with your beauty. "an angel?" he questions, still hazed from his pain. "no," you laugh, replacing the towel on his head, "[name]."

"[name]..." he repeats, affirming his belief of being fine and alive. in your shared home—kyouka standing beside you. "is he going to be okay?" her weary voice echoes concern, to which you pat her head and tell her to fetch some more water. "of course he is, he's atsushi. i need a refill, can you do it for me?" with kyouka hurriedly jogging away, you're left alone with atsushi. he moans, his joints aching with every twist. "are you doing okay?" you ask, rubbing soft circles on his palm. "feel so nauseous." he mumbles, throat hoarse like the attack on trojans. you cooed, a sweet lullaby that comforts him through thick and thin, "feel better soon, m'kay?" he bobs his head like copier, obedient. atsushis' peace answers with silence.

admist your little moment, kyouka arrives back with the water in hand. she hands you the small bowl and takes her seat next to you again. "he seems at ease," she notes. "does he?" you question, busying yourself with replacing the towel every now and then. "mhm," she nods, "i'm glad." a small smile comes foward on her dollified expression. kyouka also takes notice of the faint blush resting on his face, daint and obvious. she doesn't speak up about it, opting to pop the question in when atsushi was better. for now, she'll wonder what you two had talked about while she was out of the room.

the 31st — if akutagawa had any say about attending any gift-related events, he'd stay home. if akutagawa had any shred of empathy left, he'd conserve it just for you. a mistake, honestly. he curses to the devils' and above for forcing his heart to ponder sweetly for you. "no," he says, unwavering in his decision. "but, ryu!!" you whine so casually, wanting him to give in and get out of his comfort zone. you knew it wasn't an easy task, seeing as your beloved friend preferred to stay within the four white walls the port mafia created. "annoying," he grumbles, eyes tilting blinding anger, "leave me be." he shoves past you, destined to cast away your binding spell. you stand there, resolve strong as ever while defending against hollow words. "be that way," you sigh, "but before you leave, let me give you this." you pull out a small present, throwing it to akutagawa who caught it with rashomon.

"what's this?" he inquired, an annoyed grunt passing his lips when you don't answer and turn on your heels to leave. annoying, he thinks again. he decides to unravel his gift later, when he was in the comforts of his own home. "what's inside?" gin poked at it, wanting her brother to hurry it up already. "don't know, [name] gave it to me]." he sighs—a gentle remonstrance. gin nods in understanding, waiting eagerly for her brother to tear the paper apart. inside laid a small box, "is it jewelry?" akutagawa shrugged his shoulds, "might be."

he uncovers the tiny trinket inside. it appeared to be a plain, silver lining necklace with nothing attached. at the bottom of the box, a note read; a pitiful necklace for your grey home, truly, a noteworthy gift you thought of. "seems like [name] really likes you," gin jokes about. akutagawa was quick to shut it down though, not in the mood to entertain any lovey dovey tease. "alright, alright," she giggles, "are you going to the party tonight?" she switches the topic. the mafia didn't often hold parties—this year being an exception—to keep their reputation in check. "no, i don't think i will." gin pouts at her brothers' rejection. "i won't force you, but maybe you'd enjoy it." you'll see [name], is what she's implying. as much as he can deny the pointed accusations, it was obvious to others around, that akutagawa held a soft spot for you. he grounded himself, "no." his mental fortude will not be broken down by measly gifts. "mhm–okay," gin hides her grin exceptionally well.

on the day of the party, you're feeling gorgeous in your outfit, hair done and kept to match it. you greet others with polite grace, "good evening to you too executive ozaki." you return her greeting. she does a curt bow before leaving the short talk. hunger gnawed a tight grip on your stomach, a loud growl emitting nothing against the loud chatter of the room. you scan the area for the nearest buffet table to ease your hunger. spotting none, you traverse the mounts of cleanliness ordor into another area of the building, where you laid eyes on an exquisite high-top table filled to the edge of some of your favorites. your inner-self squealed in excitement, still needing to maintain your professional composure while walking down to it.

the closer you got, a familiar voice rang nearby. "i'd rather not talk about it," he adjusts the chain sitting on his neck, your eyes catching wind of his movements unbeknownst to him. "aww, c'mon akutagawa! just tell us!!" tachihara whined drunkenly, using gin as support as he leaned on her. "no," he says. "my brother is a little shy on the outside. don't worry tachihara–i promise he's feeling fluttery on the inside." gin reassures her friend with light taps on his hand. "am not." he glares, hardly ever removing that mean scowl of his. tachihara was about to make a scene until he flinched from your voice, "it's all in the tone, tachi," your half assed smirk eased in—delighted to see akutagawa wearing your gift, "the chain suits you, doesn't it?" you smile, that teasing glint shining in your teeth nearly makes the man in question falter.

"it does," he mutters, walking away with a clenched heart—the blush on the tip of his ears giving away his true feelings.

@ rusmii—everything is owned by mayira, she doesn't appreciate copyright breaches.

anyways lil rant at the bottom but, if ur not a writer, then u have no right to complain abt the amount of smut to fluff ratio 😭 (even then, as a writer, u should understand that complaining is not going to change anything).

im also tired of yall bitching abt everything in the x reader tag 😐 gtfo the place where ppl come to READ fics, not read ur bitching 🙏!

[complaining abt xyz] "oh im going to put this in the x reader tags to gain attention and sympathy for my cause!" OH MY FUCKING GOD SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

anyways, hello guys ik i wasn't gone for that long, but it feels like forever (cause i haven't written anything good yes ik). buuut.. my hyperfixiation on bsd isnt leaving anytime soon so why not make the most of it rn and write again. next fic is def smut 😴🤞.

#★ saintmay #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #atsushi x reader #akutagawa x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x you #chuuya x you #atsushi x you #akutagawa x you #dazai x y/n #chuuya x y/n #atsushi x y/n #akutagawa x y/n #bsd x reader fluff

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little-jana · 1 day ago

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"Christmas With The Hotchner Boys"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: kissing, mentions of being alone, being called a "good girl", Jack being the cutest little Christmas elf

Words: 1.65k

Summary: Nobody should be alone on Christmas, the Hotchners make sure of that!

a/n: This is for anyone that feels lonely during the holidays! Merry Christmas! xo

Christmas wasn’t supposed to feel this lonely.

I stared at the blinking lights of my tiny tree, tucked into the corner of my living room. The scent of pine lingered faintly, but the holiday spirit hadn’t quite settled over me. It was my first Christmas in years spent away from my family, a choice born out of necessity rather than desire. A looming work deadline and a snowstorm that canceled flights had left me here—alone, or so I thought.

My phone buzzed on the counter, drawing me out of my thoughts.

Hotch.

Seeing his name flash on my screen made my heart flutter, a reaction I’d grown used to over the months. Aaron Hotchner had a way of showing up exactly when I needed him, even if he didn’t realize it.

I picked up the phone, trying to keep my voice steady. “Hotch, hey. What’s up?”

“Hi,” he said, his deep voice warm and familiar. “I just wanted to check in. I know you said you weren’t going home for Christmas. How are you holding up?”

I smiled softly, even though he couldn’t see it. “I’m fine. Just a little... quiet around here.”

There was a pause, the kind of comfortable silence I’d grown to appreciate with him. “I thought that might be the case,” he said finally. “That’s why I’m outside your building.”

I blinked, certain I’d misheard him. “You’re... what?”

“Outside,” he repeated, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Can you buzz me in?”

I hurried to the intercom, my heart pounding as I pressed the button. A few moments later, there was a soft knock at my door.

When I opened it, there he was, standing in the hallway with a small wrapped package in one hand and a faint smile on his face. But he wasn’t alone.

“Hi,” he said, stepping inside with Jack close behind him, clutching a box of cookies.

“Hi,” I said, my eyes flicking between the two of them. “What are you... what are you doing here?”

“Well, Jack and I were making cookies, and we realized we might’ve made too many,” Aaron said, his tone so casual it almost made me laugh. “And I didn’t want you to spend Christmas Eve alone.”

Jack grinned up at me, his cheeks pink from the cold. “Dad said we should come over because Christmas is better with friends.”

I felt a lump rise in my throat as I knelt down to Jack’s level. “Is that so?”

He nodded earnestly. “And we brought the good cookies! Not the burnt ones.”

I laughed softly, ruffling his hair. “Well, thank you for sharing. I’m honored.”

Aaron cleared his throat, holding out the wrapped package. “And this is for you.”

I took it carefully, my fingers brushing against his for a brief moment. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply.

I unwrapped the package slowly, revealing a leather-bound journal with a sleek, elegant design. It was beautiful, thoughtful, and so unmistakably him.

“You mentioned wanting to start journaling,” he said, almost shyly. “I thought this might help.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them away quickly. “Aaron, this is perfect. Thank you.”

Jack tugged on my sleeve, holding up the box. “Do you have a tree? We could put cookies under it for Santa.”

I glanced at Aaron, who gave me a small shrug and a smile. “What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I said, leading Jack into the living room where my modest little tree stood.

Jack immediately set to work arranging cookies on a plate while I grabbed mugs for hot chocolate. Aaron followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I worked.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” I said, my voice soft.

He shrugged, his gaze warm and steady. “It didn’t feel right, leaving you alone tonight.”

“Still,” I said, meeting his eyes. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

He smiled then, that rare, genuine smile that made my heart ache in the best way. “You don’t have to thank me.”

When we returned to the living room, Jack was carefully inspecting the tree, his head tilted as he studied the decorations.

“It’s pretty,” he said, turning to me with a grin. “But it needs one more thing.”

“Oh?” I asked, crouching down beside him. “What’s that?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small star ornament, holding it up proudly. “We made this at school. Can I put it on?”

“Of course,” I said, helping him find the perfect spot near the top.

As Jack admired his handiwork, Aaron stepped closer, his arm brushing against mine. The warmth of his presence was grounding, and I felt myself relax in a way I hadn’t all night.

“Looks perfect,” Aaron said, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I turned to look at him, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of us. His eyes were soft, full of something unspoken, and the air between us felt charged in a way that made my pulse quicken.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.

His hand brushed against mine, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down my spine. “Merry Christmas,” he said, his tone warm and intimate.

Jack’s voice broke the moment, calling out from across the room. “Can we watch a movie?”

Aaron chuckled, stepping back. “What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I said, my voice steadier now.

We spent the rest of the evening curled up on the couch, Jack nestled between us as we watched his favorite Christmas movie. His laughter filled the room, and for the first time in days, I felt a true sense of peace.

When the movie ended, Jack had fallen asleep, his head resting against Aaron’s shoulder. I helped Aaron tuck him into the spare bedroom, and as we stood in the doorway, watching Jack sleep, I felt a wave of emotion I couldn’t quite put into words.

“He’s amazing,” I said softly.

Aaron nodded, his expression tender as he looked at his son. “He is.”

We returned to the living room, and as I started tidying up, Aaron caught my wrist, stopping me.

“Leave it,” he said, his voice low.

I turned to face him, my breath catching at the intensity in his eyes.

“Aaron...”

He stepped closer, his hand still holding mine. “You don’t have to do everything alone, you know.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m not used to... this.”

“Letting someone in?” he asked, his tone gentle but firm.

I nodded, unable to find the words.

He smiled softly, his other hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from my face. “You’re doing a good job,” he murmured. “Better than you realize.”

The warmth in his voice made my chest tighten, and I felt my cheeks heat.

“Good girl,” he said, his thumb brushing against my cheek.

The words hit me like a bolt of lightning, and I felt my knees go weak. His gaze held mine, steady and unwavering, and I realized there was no hiding how much those words affected me.

“Aaron,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Tears filled my eyes, and I reached up, wrapping my arms around him. His embrace was strong, reassuring, and I felt myself relax against him completely.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple.

“Merry Christmas,” I said softly, my heart full to bursting.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff

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dungeefox · 2 days ago

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Forced Favor — J.W.W

Two completely different people settling in an arranged marriage to fulfil their father's wishes. Except, what if they end up becoming fluent in choosing one another more than they planned to?

pairing: wonwoo x oc

genre: arranged marriage, friends-ish to lovers, enemies-ish to lovers

warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, pool sex, unprotected sex, cumshot, cursing, dirty talk, big dick!wonwoo, fingering (f receiving)

wc: 14,710

a/n: comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated! 🥹

The day after your parents finalized their divorce, your mother left, taking your sister with her while you stayed behind with your father. You recall the tears streaming down your face as you pleaded with her not to go. Despite her obvious favouritism toward your sister, having her in your life feels far better than enduring the indifference of a father who seems uninterested in you.

Your father never desired to have children, viewing them as a burden. This likely explains why, as soon as your mother left, he sent you away and has largely remained distant since. You were just fourteen at the time, and adjusting to life on your own was far from easy. Many nights were spent feeling lonely, frightened, and longing for home, wishing for someone to reach out to, but there was no one available. It's not that you didn't make an effort to connect with your parents and sister; you did, and quite desperately, to be honest. You attempted to call several times, but they never answered. You even wrote letters detailing how you were doing, sharing your academic successes, and almost pleading for their pride. You hoped that one day they might want you back, but after six long years, that day still feels out of reach.

Until yesterday.

It felt surreal when you got a call from your father informing you that he had arranged a flight for you to return home. He only said, "Mr. and Mrs. Jeon have invited us for dinner," and you didn’t probe further about the occasion. You were simply filled with joy at the thought of being reunited with your father once more.

𓂃۶ৎ

"Do you know why you're here?" Wonwoo inquires as he guides you along the stone path in his backyard. You both have just stepped out of the dining room because he wished to have a private conversation with you.

You respond with a slight shrug of your shoulders. "Why?"

He halts next to a wooden bench, leaning forward to wipe the dust off its surface. "Here, sit."

You glance at him, hesitating for a moment before finally sitting down. "What is this about?"

He takes a position beside you, adjusting slightly so that he faces you. "Our parents want us to get married."

M-married?

You're uncertain if you're hearing him correctly. For a moment, you can only gaze at him, your lips attempting to form a word, yet nothing escapes. Eventually, you manage a quiet "What?"

"I understand," he replies. "That's quite a lot to take in. Feel free to take your time."

"Take my time?" You laugh, not out of humor, but because it seems absurd. "I don’t need time to process this. You must be out of your mind if you think I'm going to marry you."

"Well, tell that to our parents—they set this whole shit up."

You narrow your gaze suspiciously. Somehow you have a feeling that this is one of his stupid pranks. Not that it's new to you. He does it all the time. The asshole acts like it's his job sometimes.

“I swear to God if this is one of your-” Wonwoo lifts a finger up, cutting your speech short. "I know what you're about to say. But no, it's not a prank. I'm serious."

"So you're telling me you actually agreed to this arrangement?" you inquire, raising your eyebrows in disbelief.

"No, not really. But I'm doing this for my father. I’m sure you’ve heard about it."

Yes, your dad mentioned Mr. Jeon's declining health during the drive from the airport. Currently, he is overseas receiving treatment for his illness. A wave of sympathy washes over you for Wonwoo, yet it doesn't sway your decision.

"I'm truly sorry about your father, Wonwoo. I really am. But marrying me won’t cure his illness."

"I understand that," he replies, letting out a heavy sigh. "He just wants to see me settled down before... you know."

"Settled down with... me?"

Wonwoo gives a nod. "You know how much my parents adore you. They've been trying to set us up since we were teens."

"But he can't force you to marry someone you don't want to. Do you honestly think you can spend your life tied to someone you don’t love? You can’t even commit to a relationship.”

He shrugs casually. "I don't mind if it's you I'm marrying.” You huff, not believing him. "You don't even like me.”

You and Wonwoo have been childhood friends, having grown up as neighbors. However, your personalities clash like oil and water—completely incompatible. He is the only person who truly knows how to irritate you. It’s not that you dislike him, nor does he qualify as your enemy. You must admit, he can be quite charming at times, especially when he isn’t saying or doing something foolish that gets on your nerves. This happens only once in a blue moon, by the way. Sometimes, it's hard to believe he is twenty-eight while you are just twenty-one; it feels like it should be the other way around.

“I never said I don't like you," Wonwoo denies. "I actually do. I think you… uh…"

“I'm what?" You probe, lifting your brows.

"I think you've got nice teeth," He says.

“What? Teeth?!"

“Yeah. Teeth. They look especially nice when you smile. Which you don't do often by the way.”

Is this a joke? You thought as you gave him the eye-roll.

"Look, you may not be someone who takes matters like marriage seriously, but I do. I can't sacrifice myself to spend the rest of my life with you just to please your father. And if I ever plan to marry, it would be to someone I love."

He exhales and nods. "Alright, I respect your decision.”

You rise from the bench and gaze down at him. "Can we get back inside now?"

"Sure."

𓂃۶ৎ

Upon returning to the dining room, you find the table cleared and everyone gone. You look over at the man beside you, who appears just as puzzled. He steps out of the dining room, and you follow him into the living hall, only to discover it is also empty.

"Where is everyone?" you inquire.

“Your father has left," replies Wonwoo's mother as she descends the staircase.

"What? Why?" you ask, a sense of unease creeping in. "Did he mention anything?"

“We were talking about you and thought it would be wonderful for you to stay here with Wonwoo for maybe three weeks or more, giving you time to consider the arrangement."

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "What do you mean?”

“I trust Wonwoo has filled you in on this, right?" She glances at her son.

"Yes, but—" You look at Wonwoo, silently questioning, “Are you part of this too?” He responds with a clueless shrug.

"Think of it as a trial period," she continues. "It's just an opportunity for you to see if you like Wonwoo enough to marry him." She pauses, smiling as she takes your hand. "You don't have to feel pressured to say yes, but Mr. Jeon and I would be thrilled to have you as our daughter-in-law."

There's so much information to absorb, and it’s all happening so fast. Your mouth opens and closes, struggling to find the right words, but nothing comes.

“Oh, and your father mentioned he’ll be out of town for a few weeks," Mrs. Jeon adds.

“Wait, what?” Panic seizes your heart as you look around, searching for your purse. Spotting it on one of the sofas, you rush over to grab your phone. A message from your father catches your eye. Holding your breath, you tap on the notification to read it.

“Sorry, I have to leave early to catch a flight to China. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon have kindly offered for you to stay at their place for now. Hopefully, you can decide by the end of your stay there. I genuinely hope you'll say yes. This is everything I could have wished for you: to marry someone wonderful, someone of high status like Wonwoo. You'll make me so proud. Plus, Mr. Jeon has been a big help to our family; we owe him a lot.”

The words slowly sink in. It feels as though the world is spinning around you, and you’re on the verge of fainting. You sway slightly on your feet, but suddenly Wonwoo is beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist for support.

“You okay?" he whispers, gazing down at you. You nod slowly, feeling his proximity make you blush, and you quickly look away.

“Aw, look at you two, such a perfect match,” his mother coos, clasping her hands together, her expression dreamy as if she's watching a romantic movie.

You clear your throat, straightening up to create some distance between you and Wonwoo. He interprets this as a signal to release you, but his eyes remain fixed on you as if he fears you might collapse if he looks away.

"I'm feeling a bit exhausted from the jet lag," you tell his mother. "Would it be alright if I head up to my room first?"

“Oh dear, of course! You must be so tired." She glances at Wonwoo. "Can you show her to her room?"

"Which one?" he asks. “Any bedroom upstairs," she replies, adding with a playful tone, "Just try to avoid the haunted one."

Your eyes widen as you switch gazes between Wonwoo and his mother. "H-haunted?" Wonwoo laughs softly, placing a reassuring hand on your lower back. "Let’s go," he says, guiding you up the staircase.

"What did she mean by 'haunted'?" you inquire, looking up at him as you ascend.

"The previous owner tragically took their own life in one of the bedrooms upstairs."

"Oh, fantastic," you mutter quietly to yourself.

As you reach the second floor, the atmosphere feels less grand than below. A narrow hallway stretches out, with three rooms on each side. The lighting is dim, and rustic paintings adorn the walls. You notice your small suitcase waiting by the door at the far end of the corridor. That must be your room.

"Which one is the haunted one?" you whisper cautiously to Wonwoo as he leads you down the hall. He gestures toward the door directly across from yours, sending a shiver down your spine. Wonwoo opens the door to your room, and you step inside, pulling your suitcase along as he flicks the light on.

“Let me know if you need anything," He says.

"Wonwoo, wait," You turn around, feeling more nervous now that he's leaving the door nearly closed, but it flew open again.

"What?" He says, standing at the doorway, his hand holding onto the door jamb.

"Where will you be sleeping?" He nods towards the room next door.

"Oh," That's a relief. "Okay. Goodnight.'

A little frown forms on his forehead as he stands there, studying your face. "Will you be okay?’

"You mean will I be okay staying across a haunted room? or will I be okay staying with you for the next three weeks?"

"Both."

"No and no," You reply sharply. "can't even stand being in the same room with you for a minute, let alone living together.” You didn't know what got into you, but you certainly didn't mean to say that.

Wonwoo takes a sharp breath, as if he's fighting the impulse to snap back at you. "Do you want me to send you home? You don’t have to stay here if you’d rather not."

You want to respond that you don’t really have a home, but that would only prompt him to ask why. You're too worn out for that kind of inquiry.

“Never mind," You reply, turning away from him. "Just leave me alone.”

"I swear you are so fucking confusing sometimes," He murmurs under his breath.

“Me? Confusing?" You turned sharply to glare at him. "This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t agreed to this ridiculous arrangement. You brought me into this! It’s entirely your fault!"

The door swings open as Wonwoo steps inside. "If you're so against it, you should've told my mother no just now. It's really that simple!" he countered. "Why didn’t you speak up?"

"Because—" You pause, your lips moving as if searching for words. "I just can’t, alright?"

His brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean you can't?"

With a resigned sigh, you finally confess, "My dad wants me to stay here, and he believes I should marry you."

“Why didn’t you let him know that you’re not interested? You had no trouble rejecting me earlier,” he remarks with a sneer.

“You don’t get it,” you reply. “My relationship with my dad is incredibly strained. If I say no, he’ll be so disappointed. I don’t want to jeopardize the little connection we have left by letting him down.”

He gazes at you, pausing for a moment to let your words resonate. "So, you're really considering marrying me?"

"I honestly don't know, Wonwoo," you respond with a heavy sigh. "I'm just too tired to think right now. All I need is some sleep." He nods in understanding. "Okay, I'll see you in the morning."

"I'm sorry for raising my voice at you," you mumble as the door is about to close. He turns to you, a small smile appearing on his face. "It's alright, I actually missed it."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "You missed being yelled at by me?"

"Yeah," he confesses. "But I miss you even more." His sincerity almost makes you believe him. Then, you remember that this is Wonwoo – the guy who speaks his mind without a filter. You can't take his words too seriously.

"Goodnight, Wonwoo," you reply simply.

"Aren't you going to say it back?" he asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Nope," you say, turning away from him.

"Fine. Just don't come looking for me when the demon creature haunts you tonight."

You whip your head around to face him. "There's a demon creature?!"

Instead of answering, he turns away and slams the door in your face like a first-class asshole that he is, leaving you all alone in that room.

𓂃۶ৎ

You spent the previous night brooding over how awful this entire situation is. However, by morning, you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’ll be here for the next three weeks. After all, it’s summer break, and there’s nothing you can do or anywhere to go. Your options are either to stay with Wonwoo or be completely alone in your apartment overseas. You decide that the former sounds more appealing because, despite how annoying Wonwoo can be at times, he is still your friend and some company would be nice.

Regarding the marriage arrangement, as absurd as it may seem, you might actually think about giving it a chance.

Might. Think.

If you were to agree, it would be for your Dad, not for Wonwoo. Perhaps it’s the message he sent that resonates with your willingness to sacrifice. The part of you that is eager to make him proud and gain his approval. Maybe this could help mend your relationship with your Dad. All you can do is hope.

𓂃۶ৎ

Deciding it’s futile to keep brooding, you rise from bed and slip into your cozy robe before stepping out of the room. In the daylight, the hallway feels less menacing than it did last night. Yet, the thought of a haunted room still sends shivers down your spine.

You finally reach Wonwoo's door and knock gently. There’s no response. After a few more attempts, you choose to enter, as silence persists. The door opens just enough for you to peek inside. A glance at the bed reveals that Wonwoo is absent, but the sound of the shower fills the air.

Your gaze wanders around the room. A large display shelf occupies one wall, overflowing with train sets and famous landmarks crafted from Lego. A smile crosses your face. You've always known about his childhood fascination, but you never expected it to endure into adulthood. The grown-up Wonwoo seems more like someone who engages with women rather than toys. Perhaps you don’t know him as well as you thought.

Then something else captures your attention. Scattered across the floor near the shelves lies a massive Lego set that’s only partially assembled. It appears he’s constructing the Tower Bridge. Curious, you find yourself stepping into the room, leaving the door ajar behind you. You tread carefully to avoid disturbing the scattered bricks and pieces as you move further in.

Has anyone ever tried stepping on this thing? Hurt shitless just so you know. You bend your knees and squat down to get a clearer look of the miniatures. Everything looks so wee and cute. You smile at a tiny replica of a London bus and pick it up. As you're inspecting it, the bathroom door behind cracks open. You slowly bring your head around and you gape and freeze on the spot, the bricks slipping out of your grasp, free-falling to the ground.

Standing at the threshold of the bathroom is Wonwoo. Wearing nothing from head to toe. And he is staring at you, eyes wide open, looking more dumbfounded than ever.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He yells from where he stands.

"I'm so sorry!" You quickly turn your head and spring to your feet, ready to escape the situation. However, as you take your first step, a sudden, piercing pain shoots through the back of your foot, causing you to stumble. You prefer to avoid the f-word unless absolutely necessary, but…

“FUCKING HELL!” Everything falls apart. In that brief moment, you can nearly witness your life flash before you. They say this occurs just before death, but the truth is, you’re still very much alive. But you're pretty sure it feels all the fucking same when your ass landed on these tiny little bricks on the floor.

"Oh shit! Are you okay?" You lift your head and gasp at the sight of him striding towards you. All naked. His, whatever it is, swinging freely. Don't look at it, don't look! Instead, you find yourself staring in disbelief. No matter how hard you try, you simply can't erase that image from your mind. Maybe it is a testament to how lonely or horny you are. You might have been experiencing a dry spell for quite some time, or perhaps you've never encountered something so large and thick in person before. All of a sudden you're wishing this is porn so you could just get on your knees and suck him off into oblivion.

Wonwoo clears his throat, and the sound cuts through your wandering thoughts. You snap back to reality, looking up to see him standing tall above you.

“I'm so sorry!" You scream as you swiftly cover your eyes with your palm to block your sight. Using your other hand, you push yourself up to stand and quickly pivot to scurry away. Your ass is on fire but you don't even care anymore. All you need is to get out of there.

𓂃۶ৎ

Following that awkward moment in Wonwoo's room this morning, you now find yourselves having breakfast in complete silence. Mrs. Jeon has left the country to be with her husband, leaving just you and Wonwoo in the house, along with the housemaids—who mostly remain invisible unless needed. The dining room is eerily quiet, with only the sound of spoons clinking against plates breaking the stillness. You're making a concerted effort to avoid eye contact with Wonwoo, but every time you steal a glance, you catch him already staring, which sends your mind racing and makes you blush uncontrollably.

Wonwoo, on the other hand, is revelling in this tension. The smug grin on his face says it all, and his gaze is fixed on you, never wavering. He delights in teasing you like this, especially when you turn all shy and red as you are now. As soon as breakfast is finished, you hurriedly retreat to your room.

The remainder of the afternoon is spent in bed, absorbed in your e-reader, diving into the latest fantasy romance you just bought. For a little while, you allow yourself to escape into someone else's world, a refreshing break from your reality. It feels liberating, providing temporary relief from your worries.

Finally, you venture out of your room, driven by thirst. After a quick shower, you slip into a maroon sweater that drapes over one shoulder, paired with black leggings. The clock nears seven o'clock, and the hallway is starting to darken. Suddenly reminded of the possibility of encountering a demon lurking nearby, you quicken your steps toward the staircase.

At that moment, you encounter Wonwoo. He’s making his way up the final flight of stairs just as you’re about to head down. You freeze in place, captivated by the sight before you. He remains oblivious to your presence, absorbed in his phone. It appears he has just come from a swim; his hair is damp, and he wears a grey bathrobe. The belt is tied securely, yet the V neckline reveals his bare chest.

You feel a flutter in your lower abdomen as you continue to gaze at him. This man possesses impressively broad shoulders, the kind that makes you feel petite, especially with water droplets glistening on his skin, he's looking even more lickable than usual. What are you talking about?! You shake your head, pushing that thought far, far away. You can't help but feel that the unexpected encounter this morning truly affected you deeply.

"Oh, hey," Wonwoo offers a greeting as he arrives at the top of the stairs, shifting his focus from his phone to you. You respond with a gentle hum and continue to walk past him. He tsks and reaches out to grab your arm, pulling you back.

“How long are you planning to ignore me?" He asks, sounding gruff.

“I'm not ignoring you," You deny. "I was just going to head downstairs to get something to drink."

"Then explain why you're hiding in your room doing who knows what for the whole fucking day? Is that what you're planning to do for the rest of your stay here?" He asks.

"No," You respond softly. Wonwoo gazes at your face as if he's trying to uncover a hidden answer. "Is it because of what happened this morning? You walking in on me naked?" He surmises.

Yes and yes.

You feel your cheek growing hot, and Wonwoo notices. "Come on, it's just a dick. Pretty sure you've seen one before," He teases.

“That's not just a dick, that's-" The words trail away and you press your lips together to stop yourself. A slow smirk pulls at his lips. "What?" he asks. That's one hell of a dick, you say internally, refusing to voice it out. The man doesn't need an extra boost to his ego. Instead, you raise your chin and say, "What do you want from me?"

"Listen," he says, shifting back to a serious tone. "The reason we’re both trapped here is because we need to be. I’m doing this for my father, and you’re here because you don’t want to disappoint yours. The decision to marry me is yours, and you have three weeks to think it over. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves while you’re here."

He’s right. You can’t spend the next twenty-eight days holed up in your room with your nose buried in a book.

"What do you propose we do then?" you inquire.

"I have a game in mind that I think we should play," he suggests.

“Game?” you inquire, tilting your head in curiosity.

“Absolutely. This game will help us reconnect.”

“We already know each other, Wonwoo," you reply. "We were friends, remember?”

“That was six years ago. People change,” he states matter-of-factly.

That's true. “Alright, how do we play?”

“I’m sure you’re familiar with this game: Truth or Dare. You choose one of the two. If you select truth, I’ll ask you a question that you must answer honestly—no lies or dodging. If you refuse to answer, you’ll have to complete a dare. Each person gets three turns a day. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“I’ll go first,” he begins. “So, truth or dare?”

You take a moment to reflect. Opting for a dare feels like too much of a gamble. Wonwoo can be quite the trickster at times. What if he challenges you to do something outrageous, like a lap dance or something equally embarrassing?

"Truth," you finally decide.

"Are you currently seeing anyone?" he inquires.

"No." A look of relief washes over his face as he smiles. "Now it's your turn."

"Truth or Dare?" you ask, secretly hoping he will choose the latter. You feel a strong urge to dare him to lick your toes or wash your feet, just to annoy him.

“Truth,” he responds instead.

“Ugh,” you groan. Honestly, you can't come up with anything clever to ask right now, so you settle on, "What's your hobby?" He rolls his eyes. "Boring."

"Just answer the question, Wonwoo," you say impatiently, eager to wrap this up and escape from him. "So, what's your hobby?" you ask once more.

"Sex. I love sex. If that's a hobby."

"Why am I even surprised?" you murmur to yourself, your tone quite flat.

"My turn now," he continues. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"I'm just curious..." He pauses for a brief moment. "Are you a virgin?"

You stare directly into his eyes. It's not that you are a virgin, but it's also not his place to ask. "Why do you want to know?" you respond.

He shrugs casually. "Just for future reference."

"What does that even mean?"

"Come on, do you really think nothing will happen between us over the next three weeks?"

How bold of him! "I'm not going to sleep with you if that's what you're implying."

"Ouch." He clutches his chest, feigning injury. "I thought you'd be interested after catching a glimpse of my human sausage."

"You did not just say human sausage." You press your lips together, trying to suppress laughter.

"What should I call it then?" He raises his brows. "Mushroom head? Semen maker? Corn Dog?”

"Please, stop," You say through your pressed lips. He grins. "What about cum factory? Sounds good?" That's all there is to it. You let out a hearty laugh that is quite unbecoming, resembling a pig's snort so closely that you must turn away to conceal your face.

"Do you want me to continue, babe?" He teases. "I can go on all night." You shake your head jerkily. "No! no more dick talk, please." It takes a moment for you to regain your composure. Taking a deep breath, you turn back to face him. Wonwoo chuckles at the rosy flush on your cheeks from all the laughter. Honestly, he's been eager to see you laugh like this; you look so stunning that you nearly leave him breathless.

"You haven't answered my question," He says. "Are you a virgin?"

"I'm not telling you," You refuse.

"Well, you know the consequence when you can't answer a question.”

"Alright, I'll take on a dare. What do you want me to do?" Wonwoo presses his lips together, taking his time to contemplate. "You’re not going to ask me to kiss you, are you?" You guessed correctly; it's the only thing that pops into your mind. "That's not what I had in mind," he says, locking his gaze on your eyes and then your lips. "Though I wouldn't be opposed to it."

You swallow hard, feeling a wave of nerves. "Then what do you want me to do?"

His eyes rise to meet yours. "Sing me that song."

"What song?"

"Baby.." He starts singing, "Shark doo doo doo doo."

"Ugh, go fuck yourself, Wonwoo!" You snarl and start walking off down the hall.

"Where are you going, babe?" He asks through his laughter. You flip him the middle finger and keep walking.

𓂃۶ৎ

You’ve been here for ten days, and it’s beginning to dawn on you that your stay isn’t as unpleasant as you initially imagined. Your books and the maids provide comforting company in Wonwoo's absence. However, when he is home, he either intentionally teases you, flirts with you at every opportunity, or instigates a game of Truth or Dare. It’s evident that you both have formed a bond through this game, though recently, his questions have varied widely, swinging from trivial to rather inappropriate.

What's your favorite movie? (Shrek)

Do you believe in Aliens? (Nope)

What do you like about me? (Nothing)

You were, of course, being dishonest. You simply didn’t want him to become too arrogant about it.

Do you have a Daddy kink? (What do you think?)

There are moments when you ask questions without much thought, just wanting to move on, and then there are times when your curiosity is genuine. Through this playful game, albeit silly, you learn so much about Wonwoo—ranging from significant details, like his decision to leave his architecture career to take over his father's company, to lighter anecdotes, such as how his ex-girlfriend broke up with him because he pours his milk before his cereal. Just ten days ago, he was merely an acquaintance; now he has become a friend—the kind who annoys you at times, yet you can't stay upset with for long.

𓂃۶ৎ

It's a Friday morning, and you find yourself alone in the dining room. Wonwoo has left for work after sharing a quick breakfast with you, a routine that has developed since you started your stay. He'll return for dinner later in the evening. As you sip your tea, your phone lights up with a message from your dad, saying, 'The lawyer will be in touch soon. If there's anything you'd like to add to the contract, please let him know.'

It appears your dad has engaged a lawyer to assist in drafting a prenuptial agreement. You don't quite grasp the urgency. To be honest, you haven't really contemplated what will happen after the three weeks are up, but you aren't one to defy your father's wishes. With a resigned sigh, you pick up your phone and respond with an "Okay" and a "Thank you, Dad."

Later that evening, you finally draft a few terms you'd like to negotiate, typing them out in the notes section of your iPad. Now, you're pondering whether to discuss them with Wonwoo before sending the file to your lawyer. After a brief moment of reflection, you reach for your phone to send him a text.

[9:06pm] You: My room, now. [9:06pm] Jeon W.: You think I'm your dog? [9:07pm] You: Can you see me in my room, please? :) [9:07pm] Jeon W.: What for? [9:08pm] You: I want to show you something. [9:08pm] Jeon W.: You, naked? [9:09pm] You: Maybe.

In an instant, you hear the familiar sound of his door opening and closing, accompanied by the rhythm of his footsteps. Finally, the door to your room swings open, revealing Wonwoo in a simple white t-shirt and black shorts. His tousled hair falls gently over his eyes, which look so inviting that you can't help but want to run your fingers through them. When his gaze meets yours, you can't help but giggle at the look of disappointment that washes over his face upon realizing you’re not naked. With a grunt, Wonwoo mutters something quietly under his breath.

"Come sit with me," you respond before looking down at your iPad. The door clicks shut, and he approaches you. He stands beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts as he gazes down at you. "What made you invite me to your room, princess?" he inquires. "Please tell me we are finally doing the deed? Because I am so fucking ready."

You roll your eyes. "Why do you have to relate everything to sex?"

“If you didn't invite me here for naughty purposes, what for then?" He asks once he is seated next to you on the ottoman. "My father has hired a lawyer for me," you told him. "You know, to help me out with the marriage contract and stuff."

His eyes go round like saucers. "Fuck, we're getting married for real?"

"Oh, I wouldn't count on that," you reply dismissively. His gaze sharpens as he looks at you. "However," you continue, "if I decide to accept this arrangement, there are certain conditions that need to be met." You hand him your iPad. "Take a look at this. I thought it would be wise to go over it together before I send it to my lawyer."

On your iPad, there's a bullet-point list of your negotiation terms. They aren't phrased in legal jargon, but that's something for the lawyer to address, not you.

I get to finish my studies and find a job of my choosing here.

We move to a new place (preferably a villa and NOT haunted)

I want a pet pig.

He pauses his reading to gaze at you with a blank expression, as if he believes you’ve lost your mind.

"What? Pigs are intelligent, you know?"

"Where do you think you are? FarmVille?" he replies with a sarcastic tone.

"We could get a teacup pig!" you counter. "Have you seen them? They’re adorable and tiny!"

"There's no such thing as teacup pigs. They are just piglets and will eventually grow into a motherfucking pig. On top of that, they stink and poop like it's no one's business.”

You lift your chin to meet his gaze. "How can you be so certain?"

"I know someone who breeds pigs," he replies. You pause for a moment, then reluctantly acknowledge that Wonwoo is correct; a fully grown pig can easily weigh around 300 kg, making it impractical to keep one in the house.

"Alright, I'll remove that option," you say, giving in. Wonwoo notices the slight pout forming on your lips and the disappointment etched on your face. He feels a twinge of guilt for disappointing you, and it tugs at his heart.

"Is there another pet you'd like to have?" he asks gently, adding, "Just nothing that belongs on a farm... or in a jungle."

You look up at him with bright, hopeful eyes. "What about a kitten or a puppy?" you suggest. Wonwoo beams at you. "We can definitely do that," he agrees, before turning his attention back to your iPad.

In the event of an extramarital affair, I have the right to leave the marriage. We got a divorce with no contest.

Wonwoo gazes at you once more, his expression a mystery. "Do you really think I would cheat on you?"

You find yourself at a loss for words. Having faced abandonment at a young age, you've learned to be wary of those around you. You've grown up convinced that people will eventually lose interest and leave, just like your parents did.

“I hope you don't take it the wrong way," you reassure him. "I'm not implying that you're untrustworthy; it's simply that I don't know you well enough to place my trust in you." A look of understanding crosses his face, and he nods. "That’s fair," he replies, redirecting his focus to the screen.

With a look of concentration, his lips purse as he studies the bullet points. You lean in to see better as he taps the edit icon in the bottom right corner of the screen, causing the keyboard to pop up, and his fingers begin to move.

In the event of an extramarital affair (never going to happen), I have the right to leave the marriage. As a penalty, 100% of Jeon Wonwoo's assets will be handed over to me.

You read and reread the section he has just revised. "Are you serious?" You stare at him, eyes wide in disbelief. "You're giving me complete ownership of your property?"

He nods with an ease that suggests it's no big deal to him. "Regardless of whether I have an affair, you’ll still receive fifty percent of everything I acquire from the moment you say yes."

If he’s attempting to entice you, it's working to some extent. You won’t deny that his offer is incredibly tempting. Wonwoo's assets are immense, and with that kind of wealth, you could finally establish a literacy organization and open those free schools you’ve always dreamed of.

"I'll have my lawyer prepare the prenup as soon as you make a decision," he states.

"Oh, okay," you mumble, still in disbelief.

"What’s next?" he mutters to himself, redirecting his attention to the screen.

"I want children, and I get to name all of them." You’ve pondered long and hard about including that clause. You know Wonwoo will tease you when he sees it, but you push your embarrassment aside. You've always wanted kids, and it's crucial that he supports the idea before you commit to marriage.

He raises an amused eyebrow, a smirk forming on one side of his mouth. "Babies, huh?"

You feel your cheeks flush. "Why? Don’t you want kids?"

He shakes his head and turns to set the iPad down on the mattress behind him. When he looks back at you, you respond with a confused expression. "What does—" you mimic his earlier gesture, shaking your head, "that means?"

"It means if you want children, I can give you children. But there's an issue," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps flex, and it's hard to ignore. Damn him. Stop staring! you scold yourself. Look up! You force yourself to meet his gaze. "What’s the issue?"

“How can we have children if you keep running away every time I get close?" he asks. "You won’t even let me touch you."

"I'm not going to run," you insist, looking away.

"I don't believe you." Determined to prove him wrong, you lift your chin and meet his eyes. "Try me."

A moment of silence stretches between you, creating a charged atmosphere. His gaze is dark and intense, hinting at something more intimate.

"Come sit on my lap," he finally says. Your eyes drop to his thighs, and you gulp nervously. Slowly, you rise from your seat and stand in front of him, glancing between him and his lap, hesitating.

Wonwoo watches you, his heart racing as you finally lower yourself onto his lap. Once seated, he places a hand on your back, resting his palm on the curve of your waist to steady you in case you move. This is the closest you’ve ever been, and he’s reluctant to let go. A stretched silence envelops you as Wonwoo studies your profile intently, while you glance down at your fingers, nervously twiddling your thumbs.

"What now?" You say, trying to defuse the awkwardness.

“Put your arms around me, sweetheart," he softly whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The warmth of his low voice raises goosebumps along the back of your neck. Normally, you would scold him for calling you sweetheart, as it feels incredibly patronizing. However, these aren’t ordinary circumstances, and you find yourself too anxious to speak. Instead, you take a deep, shaky breath and press forward. As you encircle your arms around Wonwoo's shoulders, he gazes directly into your eyes.

If you are any other woman in this situation, he would have pulled you in for a kiss already. But you are not just any woman. And it doesn't help that he has no fucking idea whether you're attracted to him or not. He studies you for a moment, his own gaze is twitchy, showing slight hesitation.

"Am I making you feel uncomfortable?" he whispers softly.

"Just a bit," you respond quietly. "But it's not a bad thing."

He maintains eye contact as he takes a deep breath. "If I were to touch you, would you push me away?"

"It depends on where you touch," you answer, your voice barely above a whisper. Noticing your tension, Wonwoo feels uncertain about where to begin. The last thing he wants is to frighten you away with his advances, but the urge to kiss you is so fucking strong.

He keeps his gaze fixed on you. Gradually, almost hesitantly, he raises his hand and glides his fingertips along your jawline, cradling your face. "Is this alright?" he asks, searching your eyes.

His hand feels warm against your skin, and his touch is unexpectedly gentle. You let out a sigh and nod. "It's alright."

Wonwoo's lips curve into a smile, as if a weight has been lifted. "You have such a tiny face, baby," he muses, stroking the back of his thumb across your cheek. "It fits perfectly in my hand."

At this, you scoff. "Any guy would say something like, ‘You have such a beautiful face or lovely eyes.’"

"You know I'm not like any other guy."

"That's true," you reply, a soft smile gracing your lips. "I've never encountered anyone quite like you."

Only now do you realize how close your faces are. There's an unexpected tenderness and intimacy in his gaze, and to your own surprise, you find yourself enjoying it. You appreciate his affection.

"If you keep looking at me like that," he says, noticing your dazed expression. You blink, only to find yourself captivated by the intensity of his stare. "I'm afraid I won't be able to resist much longer."

"H-how am I looking at you?" you ask, as he gently brushes his thumb over your lower lip. "Like you want me to kiss you," he whispers.

Your heart races, and a warm blush spreads across your pale cheeks. He leans in, closer and closer, while your mind spins like a carousel. You realize you should push him away and say no, yet your body feels immobilized. It’s as if he has cast a spell, leaving you frozen in place.

The last thing you see before closing your eyes is how near his face is to yours, and then darkness envelops you as you feel the softness of his lips brush against yours. Stiff as a board, you’re surprised to find he feels just as tense. Neither of you moves your lips. This isn't what you envisioned kissing Wonwoo would be like; it almost feels like a first kiss again because you're unsure of what to do.

Should you open your mouth? Pull him closer? Or something else?

After a few seconds, Wonwoo finally pulls back. You open your eyes to meet his gaze, but it’s inscrutable. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you try to interpret the expression on his face.

Is he disappointed? Oh god, are you a bad kisser?

“It’s late,” he says somewhat coldly, avoiding your eyes. “I should probably head out now.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” you reply, quickly unclasping your arms from around his neck and sliding off his lap. Turning your back to him as you stand, you feel too embarrassed to face him after what just occurred.

You both exchange a brief goodnight without making eye contact and then he disappears from your sight.

𓂃۶ৎ

The past few days have been quite overwhelming for Wonwoo. Since his father announced his retirement, he has had to step up and assume the role of CEO at the company. This means he’s faced with an increasing number of meetings and engagements to attend. In fact, he is currently heading to his third meeting of the day. It’s frustrating because he’s unable to spend as much time with you as he wishes.

On a brighter note, things between you two have been progressing positively. Wonwoo has noticed that, for the first time since your arrival, your disagreements feel less like disdain and more like playful banter. Yet, he’s still uncertain about where you both stand at this moment.

What will happen when the three weeks come to an end? Will you pack your bags and leave, or will you decide to stay? Fuck.

The thought of you leaving hits him hard, like a punch to the gut. He confesses that he's developed strong feelings for you—intensely so. It may seem foolish since you've only been together for two weeks, yet you have become the first thought that crosses his mind when he wakes up and the last before he drifts off to sleep. Perhaps it's because you are gradually lowering your defenses around him, allowing him to see the authentic you.

He recognizes that your relationship with your parents has been complicated. Abandoned at a young age, you carry the weight of a broken heart. He can hardly fathom the pain you endured when your mother left and your father sent you away. He understands that these experiences have left you feeling rejected, unwanted, and often inadequate; it's no wonder you tend to be shy and reserved around others.

Everyone except him.

Regardless of whether you have positive feelings for him or not, he remains unaware of your true sentiments. One thing he does recognize is your fearless nature when it comes to expressing your opinions or calling him out when necessary; perhaps that’s why he enjoys provoking you so much. Although only a few days have passed, he already longs for the playful banter and friendly arguments you shared. He misses the mischievous sparkle in your eyes when you throw a comeback his way. He yearns for the delightful sound of your laughter when he succeeds in making you smile, feeling as if he has just achieved a remarkable victory. Yet, above all else, he simply misses you.

The last conversation you had was on the night he kissed you. And he fucking ruined everything. He was completely at a loss about what had just happened to him. He had never felt this nervous around a girl before. He knows he’s a great kisser, but the instant he pressed his lips against yours, it was as if he had never kissed anyone in his life. Still, his heart raced in overdrive every time he thought about how your lips felt against his. He could have performed much better, but there’s no use in dwelling on the past. All he knows is that the next time an opportunity like that arises, he promises to kiss you passionately and make it the best kiss you've ever experienced. And he hopes that next time comes soon because time is slipping away for the two of you.

𓂃۶ৎ

Wonwoo should feel relieved now that he has completed his business project, but instead, he feels a sense of unease. That’s why he chose to skip the company dinner and head straight home. As he drives, an overwhelming sense of dread washes over him, as if he knows something is amiss but can’t quite pinpoint what it is.

"Where is she?" he asks one of the housekeepers when he walks into the house.

"She’s been in her room all day, Sir," she replies.

Wonwoo quietly mutters a quick thank you before hurrying up the stairs. He walks down the dimly lit hallway, pauses at your door, knocks, and waits. When no response comes, he decides not to knock again. Instead, he pushes the door open and steps into your room. His gaze quickly lands on your bed, and he lets out a huge sigh of relief upon spotting the lump beneath the covers.

Is she already asleep? he wonders, glancing at his wristwatch, which reads five-thirty. That's quite early. He approaches the bed and stands beside it. Gently, he pulls back the covers, and his heart races when he finally sees you. Your face is mostly hidden by your hair, prompting him to brush it aside, only to be taken aback. Your skin feels incredibly hot to the touch, and your face is damp with sweat.

Wonwoo kneels beside the bed and presses the back of his hand against your neck. "Sweetheart," he calls softly. "You're burning up, baby. Are you okay?"

You murmur something he can't quite hear, and as he observes your lips moving, he notices that you are trembling uncontrollably. Oh fuck. Panic rises in his chest, and he immediately places his arms under your body to scoop you up.

You groan at the abrupt movement, your heavy eyelids fluttering open to meet his gaze. You appear taken aback. "Wh-what are you doing, Wonwoo?"

"I'm taking you to the doctor," he replies, keeping his eyes fixed ahead as he strides toward the door.

"Put me down, I'm fine."

"Don't argue with me," he counters, still not glancing at you. "I won't accept a refusal."

You roll your eyes. "You're acting like I'm having a heart attack or something… it’s just a fever, Wonwoo; it'll probably go a-."

Suddenly, Wonwoo halts and looks down at you with such a stern expression that it leaves you speechless. You blink up at him, feeling a bit flustered. "I'm taking you to the doctor, and that's final," he states, leaving no room for debate. With a frustrated huff, you finally concede, your lips pouting slightly.

Wonwoo felt a rush of warmth coursing through his veins. He inhaled deeply, battling the sudden desire to press his lips against yours. A sense of mild shame washed over him, knowing you were unwell and that he shouldn’t be having such thoughts. Perhaps it was just because he missed you so intensely because how does someone manage to look so goddamn kissable even when they are sick, it's ridiculous. Damn her.

"Can you at least put me down? I can walk just—" Your eyes widen as Wonwoo suddenly leans closer.

"Do I need to kiss you to shut you up?" he murmurs just above your lips. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as he notices the blush spreading. A warm feeling fills his chest, and a smile appears on his face.

Beautiful little brat.

It has been a while since you last saw Wonwoo, and now he’s carrying you like a charming prince, convinced of his own charm. And now he’s even suggesting he’ll kiss you? You’re at a loss for words, your thoughts muddled and heavy.

As Wonwoo carries you down the stairs, you choose silence. A housekeeper gives you a concerned glance, and you manage a faint smile to reassure her that you’re alright.

“We’ll be out for a bit,” Wonwoo informs her as he strides through the open door toward the driveway where his car awaits. You remain silent even as he places you gently in the passenger seat and fastens your safety belt. He then walks around to the driver’s side, and you watch quietly as he starts the engine and secures his own seatbelt.

Despite your illness, his good looks continue to captivate you. Attraction is indeed a mysterious force. Seeing him in his work attire always ignites a spark, and now, with his suit jacket removed and only a white dress shirt on—buttons undone—it's even more potent. You also realize this is your first time witnessing Wonwoo drive; typically, it's been Mr. Lee, his chauffeur, who has taken you both around.

“Where is Mr—” You gasp, pressing your lips together as you suddenly remember his earlier words. Do I have to kiss you to shut you up? His voice echoes in your mind, causing your cheeks to flush once more.

Wonwoo glances at you, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. A moment later, understanding seems to wash over him, and he chuckles. "You can talk, baby. I'm not going to kiss you." He averts his gaze back to the road ahead. "Not now."

Not now...

As you attempt to compose yourself, a brief silence envelops the car. His words are making you increasingly nervous. You clear your throat and finally inquire, "Where is Mr. Lee?"

"His wife went into labor yesterday, so I'm giving him some time off." You don’t press for more details; you simply lack the energy to continue.

As the car halts at the first traffic light, Wonwoo glances at you. His expression softens as he takes in your frail condition. He gently reaches out to touch your forehead, wincing at the heat radiating from your skin. "Poor baby," he murmurs, lovingly brushing his knuckles against your cheek.

For reasons you can't quite comprehend, his tender gesture brings tears to your eyes; this kind of care is something you've longed for throughout your life.

"Are you taking me to the hospital?" you inquire.

He shakes his head lightly. "I'm taking you to Mingyu's clinic."

"Mingyu, as in your friend Mingyu?"

"Exactly."

Kim Mingyu is likely the most attractive doctor you've ever encountered. Not only that, but he is also warm and approachable. Just ten minutes into your appointment, you find yourself genuinely liking him. However, your feelings shift when he says, "I need to give you a shot to bring down your fever."

You don’t want to appear cowardly, but everyone has their fears, and for you, it's needles. This is why you never got your ears pierced, unlike everyone else. And why you were hesitant to visit the doctor.

Your face pales, and it must show because Doctor Kim is now smiling. "Are you scared?" he asks. You respond with a small nod and a shy smile. He chuckles. "What a cutie."

Almost instantly, Wonwoo clears his throat beside you. "Doctor Kim..." he says calmly, though it feels more like a warning than anything else.

The tall doctor smiles to himself as he turns away to gather the necessary tools for your injection. Meanwhile, you nervously fidget with your thumbs, watching him pick up a syringe.

Wonwoo observes you the entire time, wanting to alleviate your anxiety but unsure how to do so. Despite his uncertainty, he gently places his hand over yours while his other hand softly strokes your back. When you glance at him, he offers you a warm and reassuring smile. "It's okay," he comforts you. "Just focus on me."

You follow his advice, and soon you feel a chilly sensation on your upper arm as Doctor Kim wipes the alcohol swab across your skin. Anticipating what's next, you shut your eyes tightly and hold your breath. You stifle a wince as the needle pierces your skin, refusing to sound like a child.

"All done," the doctor announces after applying a plaster to your arm. Opening your eyes, you see Wonwoo still watching you with concern. "Are you alright?" he asks, gently brushing his thumb over the back of your hand.

You manage a small nod. "I'm okay." Wonwoo smiles and gives you a gentle pat on the head. It's a simple gesture, yet it stirs all sorts of feelings within you. This prompts Mingyu to clear his throat, and you shift your attention back to the doctor.

"You'll feel better soon. You've just been really stressed lately," he says. "Let me write you a prescription for your headache, and then you’ll be good to go. Make sure to rest and try not to worry too much."

"I will, thank you, Doctor Kim."

He looks up from his prescription pad. "You can just call me Min—wait, how old are you again?"

"I'm twenty-one."

"Just like Hana," he smiles fondly, leaving you curious about her identity. "You can call me Mingyu oppa, then," he adds.

“Oppa my ass," Wonwoo snorted. "She doesn’t even call me oppa.”

"Well, that’s your issue," the doctor retorts.

"Are we finished or not?" Wonwoo asks impatiently.

"Here," the doctor hands you a piece of paper to take to the pharmacy. "Get well soon, pretty."

"Thank you, oppa," you tease, bursting into giggles as Wonwoo groans. He frowns at you. "I’m older than you too; why don’t you ever call me oppa?"

You shrug. "Maybe because you don’t act like one to me." The doctor snickers, while Wonwoo scowls. "What does an oppa behave like, exactly?"

"Like a man? I suppose."

He raises an eyebrow. "Are you implying that I act like a child?"

You flash him a playful grin, gasping as he hooks his foot around your stool leg and pulls you closer. With his arms brushing against yours, he leans in, whispering near your ear.

"Should I take you home and show you just how manly I can be?" he murmurs. Mingyu must have overheard because he started spluttering.

"You're disgusting, Wonwoo..." he coughs between words. Your face flushes bright red, and you smack him lightly on the chest in retaliation. Wonwoo grins at your embarrassment.

"Let’s head home, baby." He takes your hand and leads you toward the door.

"Wonwoo," the doctor calls just as he’s about to open the door. Wonwoo releases your hand and turns to face his friend. "Yeah?"

"Hana is back," Mingyu says.

A tense silence ensues as you glance between the two men. "Oh, how is she doing?" Wonwoo asks, his tone serious, heightening your curiosity.

Who is she? A friend, perhaps?

"She’s... she’s doing well," Mingyu replies. "We should catch up soon. Are you free to join us for the gathering this Sunday at Chan’s place?" You look at Wonwoo, waiting for his response. His silence suggests he’s unsure, maybe even reluctant.

"It’s been a while, Jeon; she really misses you," Mingyu encourages. "Joshua and the rest will be there too."

"Sure...," Wonwoo consents. "I’ll be there."

As he leads you out of the room, you notice a shift in his demeanor; he seems unusually quiet. Unable to hold back your curiosity any longer, you ask, "Who’s Hana?"

"His little sister," is all he replies. Your thoughts drift to this person named Hana. You picture her as beautiful, just like her handsome brother, and wonder about their relationship and why Wonwoo hesitated to accept Mingyu's dinner invitation.

Did something happen between them?

While your curiosity is piqued, you remind yourself that it’s not your business. If Wonwoo wants you to know, he will tell you. So, you push those thoughts aside and head to the pharmacy to pick up your meds. By the time you leave Mingyu's clinic, the sky has darkened. Whatever the doctor injected must've worked wonders because you feel less lethargic as Wonwoo leads you to his car.

"You have a nice car," you say absent-mindedly, smoothing your hand over the sleek dashboard.

"Do you want one?" he asks, turning to gauge your reaction.

"Wh-what?" you squeak. How could he ask that so casually? This car must be incredibly expensive. But then again, this man is loaded. "No," you quickly add. "I don’t even know how to drive."

"You can learn," he replies.

Getting a driver's license is on your bucket list this year, and the thought of checking that off makes you excited. "Will you... teach me?" you ask hesitantly, considering how busy he has been lately.

"Of course," he says. "How about we start this Sunday?"

You can’t contain your excitement as you respond, "Okay."

He smiles at your enthusiasm, then hesitates, as if unsure about something.

"What is it, Wonwoo?" you encourage.

"Do you want to come with me to the gathering this Sunday night?"

"The one Mingyu invited you to?" you ask, tilting your head. He nods in agreement. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"I’d be thrilled if you could. I’ve been wanting to introduce you to my friends, but I know being around a group makes you uncomfortable. So, you don’t have to say yes if it doesn’t feel right."

You smile at his rambling, and he seems to realize it too, smiling shyly as he rubs the back of his neck. It’s a side of him you haven’t seen before—refreshing and endearing.

"Yes, Wonwoo, I’ll be there for you," you say willingly, knowing you might feel anxious that day, but also trusting that Wonwoo will be there. He returns your smile with gratitude. "Thank you."

The car falls into a comfortable silence as you gaze out the window, enjoying the night view of the city lights. There’s something romantic about it, and you swear you feel a flutter every time you catch Wonwoo’s reflection in the side window as he glances at you.

When the car stops at a red light, you feel the warmth of Wonwoo’s hand on your thigh, startling you. You look down at his hand, then back up to find his gaze fixed on you.

"What do you want for dinner?" he asks, lightly tapping your skin with his index finger. Amidst your nervousness, you focus and respond.

"Can we get McDonald's?"

"You're still sick, baby," he gives your thigh a gentle squeeze.

"Let’s get something healthier, okay?" You nearly start hyperventilating. You’re unsure about the sudden affection he’s showing today. All the contact feels intimate, making your stomach flip.

"Should we get something with soup instead?" he suggests, pulling you from your thoughts. "I know a place that serves great Samgyetang."

"Yeah," you nod. "That sounds good."

Wonwoo acknowledges that he’s being unusually touchy today, but he knows he has nothing to lose. Time is short, and with uncertainty looming over the next three weeks, he doesn’t want to waste any moments with you.

He can’t deny that his feelings for you have deepened, especially after spending the day together. This is why he needs to know if you're comfortable with his advances, as eventually, he wants more. First, he wants to kiss you, then take you to his bed and explore all the things he's dreamed of doing with you.

Baby steps. He reminds himself. You don’t want to scare her off. Presently, you and Wonwoo are in the lift, heading to the Korean restaurant on the top floor. He glances down at your hands, still intertwined.

"Truth or Dare?" he initiates. You look up at him and smile softly, warming his heart as he realizes you must have missed playing this silly game as much as he does.

"Dare," you choose. It’s not the answer Wonwoo expected, but that’s fine; he has a plan. With a slow smirk spreading across his face, he says, "Call me Wonwoo oppa." You make a face of disgust at his request.

"I changed my mind. Truth." Even better, Wonwoo thinks.

He looks down at your hands again. "Do you like this?" He lifts them to his chest. "Me holding your hand—do you like it?" You take a moment to think, wrestling with different answers before finally nodding and murmuring, "Yes."

Wonwoo feels like he’s just won a trophy. “I love holding your hand too,” he wants to shout in victory, but that would be too much.

God, this girl is driving me crazy.

Who would have thought that a guy like him would be so excited over something as simple as hand-holding? It’s not even about sex. He chuckles and shakes his head at himself.

You give him a curious frown. "Are you okay?"

"Do you miss Uni?" he deflects your question. "Your friends... they’re all in LA, right?"

"I do miss learning, but I don’t miss living there," you reply, a hint of sadness in your smile. "It’s quite lonely there."

Something about that tugs at his heartstrings. He doesn’t want you to feel lonely. "What about your friends?"

"I only have one close friend, Vernon." There’s warmth in your voice when you mention him. "But he’s not in the same classes as me, so we don’t see each other often. We call every day, though."

"That’s good," Wonwoo smiles. "You’ll make more friends this Sunday. Joshua and the others will probably bring their girlfriends."

You look unsure, and he senses your self-doubt. "They’re all good people," he assures. "You’ll like them, and I know they’ll like you too." Just like I do.

You smile shyly. "I hope so."

𓂃۶ৎ

Do you know that feeling you get when you are in the last chapter of a good book? That longing for more? That feeling of not wanting to say goodbye? You feel the same way when you walk down the hallway towards your room with Wonwoo beside you. Though it is rather presumptuous of you to say, you'd like to believe that Wonwoo feels the same way, too. Because even if he isn't talking, he is walking slower than usual, as if he doesn't want to say goodbye to you and to this night.

Today has been a special one for the both of you. A lot has happened in the past hours spent together. And if there's one thing you realize you realize that your feelings for Wonwoo are growing. There's no point denying it anymore because it is there. Although you can't help the fear that grips you every time you think about the possibility of him leaving. But is it so wrong to hope for a happy ending? For once you just want to throw caution to the wind and enjoy what is given to you in this moment.

"We're here," Wonwoo announces as we reach the end of the hallway where your room is.

You turn to stare up at him. "Thank you for today." you smile, leaving a moment of still silence before you add, "And dinner… I had a great time."

"Me too." The silence continues to stretch as he drops his gaze to your mouth and lingers. The butterflies in your belly started flapping their wings all at once. You watch as he swallows and somewhere inside, you're hoping he would kiss you or make a move of some sort. But… He lifts his gaze and lets go of your hand. "You should get some rest."

You feel a pang of disappointment at the sudden loss of contact. You're confused. One moment he is being all touchy, and the next moment he is pulling back like this.

"I’m going for a swim," He says. "I'll be at the pool if you need me."

You force a smile. "Good night, Wonwoo."

"Rest well, baby."

You enter your room and close the door behind you, exhaling. What was this sudden awkwardness and hesitation between us? You wonder to yourself as you walk into the bathroom.

After a long shower, you get in bed and try to get yourself to sleep but your mind doesn't seem to allow you to. You are still confused, and frustrated. And as you lay there in silence, it suddenly occurs to you that there is a possibility Wonwoo might think you're inexperienced when it comes to sex. You remember him asking about it before; if you're a virgin, and you had refused to answer. He must've thought so, of course, considering how you always get all shy and jitterish every time he touches you.

You sit up in bed, a hopeful smile spreading across your face when every thought in your head seems to fall into place. So this is why Wonwoo has been so unsure to make a move. Because he doesn't want to scare you off. Because he is waiting for you to be ready. Something warm moves through your chest.

What a sweet soul he is. Has he always been this way? Or are you only discovering this side of him because you've fallen for him?

You hop off the bed, feeling unsure and nervous, yet there's this longing so deep that it is making your heart pound. You've never moved so fast in your life as you hurry to change into your nude colored bathing suit before putting on a bathrobe. You give your appearance a quick check in the mirror before striding out of your room. Rushing down the stairs, you ponder through the things you are going to say to Wonwoo when you see him. In the midst of your nervousness, you can't think of anything. So you can only hope that you'll find the right words to say when you see him, soon.

The sliding door that leads to the backyard pool is left slightly ajar. You hear the splashing sound of the water as you step out into the open. The backyard is slightly dim but you easily catch sight of Wonwoo's naked back. Your gaze slides along his bare shoulders and you feel your stomach clenches at how broad his physique is. He has his upper arms stretched along the pool ledge, staring thoughtfully up at the starry sky. You wonder what, or who is in his mind at this very moment, and you find yourself praying that it is you he is thinking about.

You glance down at yourself. Your hands, they are slightly trembling as you untie the knot of your robe, letting it fall freely over your shoulders to the ground. Staring down at your semi-naked self, doubt washes over you instantly. What if Wonwoo doesn't like what he sees. You are sure he has been with many women before, and for a guy as attractive as him, he must have high standards. You feel the sudden urge to run away, back into your bedroom and hide, but it's too late now because when you lift your head, you realize Wonwoo is already staring.

Your breath catches when you meet his eyes. He stares at your features first, then slowly, his gaze drops and drags down to your body, drinking every inch of you. The air around you suddenly feels so thick, and your heart nearly bursts as you watch the lump in his throat rise and fall.

You clear your throat softly to get him to look at your face, and he did. There is tenderness mixed with desire in his eyes, and you're both thrilled and unsure.

"Can I join you?" your voice came out soft.

Wonwoo takes a moment to process your question, then he says, "The water is freezing, baby, I don't want you to get sick again." You press the back of your hand on your neck, checking your body temperature. "My fever has gone down. I'm feeling much better now.”

"Get in then." He says, turning his head around to face the water again.

You walk over to the poolside and lower yourself into a squatting position. Wonwoo feels your presence close to him that made him turn his head towards you again. He keeps his eyes on you as you dip your legs into the water before sliding your body in. The water rises all the way to your collarbone and you shiver at the sudden cold sensation that runs through your body.

"Told you it's cold," Wonwoo mumbles. "Come here, baby." He reaches for your hand underwater and moves you to stand with your back to him.

Butterflies take flight in your stomach. What surprises you most is when he wraps his arms around your waist as he hugs you from behind. “Better?” His whispers in your ear.

"Yeah," you breathe, and despite your racing heart, you let your body relax in his hold.

“I was hoping you'd come and you did." he rests his chin on top of your head. "Did you read my mind, mmh?"

You huff softly. "I can hear you calling my name from up there." Wonwoo chuckles. "Why did you come here though? Can't sleep?"

You hum, leaving a beat of silence before you confess, "I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Me too." He says. "I think about you all the time.”

You let out a soft breath as a soft smile tugs at your lips. Here in the quiet, the beating of his heart sounded so clear in your ears, and so do yours. Glancing to your side and up, you find him gazing up at the sky again, seemingly in deep thoughts. In the dimness of the night, the moonlight illuminates his features, strands of wet hair fall over his forehead, and you take the opportunity to study his handsome face. Wonwoo musť've felt you staring because he is lowering his gaze to look at you now. You suddenly feel shy by his closeness, by the soft way he is staring at you.

"What did you do these past few days when I was gone?" He asks out of nowhere, the question random as if he's trying to defuse the thick tension in the air.

"I did a lot of thinking and worrying..." you huff and shake your head. He turns you around to make you look at him. "Worrying about what?"

Your answer might come off silly to him but you decided to be honest. "I thought you were purposely avoiding me because of the kiss...because you didn't enjoy kissing me."

A frown marred his expression. "That's what you were worrying about?"

You show him a small embarrassed smile before dropping your gaze to stare at his chest. "Silly, I know."’

Wonwoo grips your chin and gently tilts your head up, making you look at him again. “That might not be the best kiss, I know, but I enjoyed it." He claims. "I enjoyed kissing you so much I want to do it again," He lowers his gaze to your mouth and swipes the back of his thumb over your bottom lip. "I want to do it now...if you'd let me…”

You blink up at him, the surprise causes your lips to part a little. Wonwoo gazes at you expectantly, waiting for your approval. Then you nod, and that small gesture brings a soft smile to his face. He leans closer and weaves his fingers through your hair. Your eyes flutter close and the butterflies take flight in your stomach when he presses his lips on your lips.

Unlike the first time he kissed you, his mouth is moving more skillfully, more firmly this time. You slide your hands up to the back of his neck and return his kiss with equal passion. He groans into your mouth, the tip of his tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, and you part your mouth in an invitation. Without hesitation, his tongue slides into your mouth to meet yours, and you make a whimpering sound when he bites down on your lower lip, tugging at it as he groans.

His hold around your waist turns bruising and he roughly turns you around to back you against the pool wall. You gasp when he presses his body closer to you, his hands sliding down from your waist to the back of your thighs. You instinctively wrap your legs around his hips, and your chest emerges from the water with the elevation. His hard on is now positioned against your womanhood, and your body reacts in pure instinct, grinding yourself against him with no inhibition.

He grunts into your mouth and from there, the kiss quickly turns wet and dirty. You continue grinding yourself against him, and soon the ache between your legs is getting unbearable. You need more, but to your dismay, Wonwoo pulls his mouth away from you.

You blink at him, panting and confused. "W-why did you stop?” His face is contorted as though he is restraining himself from something. What though?

"If we don't stop," he says, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I'll end up fucking you in this pool and I can't promise l'll be gentle with you, baby.."

“It's okay," your answer came so quickly it surprised him. You bite your lips in a shy smile. "I mean… you don't have to be gentle with me, Wonwoo."

"I don't want to hurt you…” He worries and you smooth your hands over his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat under your fingertips. His eyes flared, and it's making your heart drums with nervous excitement. "I don't know if you know this but I’m not a virgin anymore, so you don't have to, you know, hold back with me."

Wonwoo looks more amused than surprised by your admission. The corner of his lips curled up into a grin. "Are you telling me you like it hard, baby?" Your cheek flares up and he lets out a huff when he notices it.

"Is that why you came to me wearing this?" He lowered his gaze to your bathing suit. You nod.

"Do you like it?"

"I've never seen anything so beautiful," One of his hands hikes up your waistline, cupping your breast before tugging the neckline of your bathing suit to the side until your nipple is exposed.

You swallow heavily. "You're too good to be true, baby…" He glances up, watching you with heated eyes as he rubbed his thumb over your bud. "Do you like it when I touch you here, mmh?" He ended his question with a light pinch on your bud.

You expel a soft moan and Wonwoo takes it as a yes. He keeps his piercing gaze on you as he lowers his head to take your nipple into his hot mouth, his tongue twirling around the tip, teasing you for a while before he draws it in between his teeth in one long pull.

"W-Wonwoo.." you squeeze your legs tighter around his hips, feeling his erection poking deeper against your woman parts. The friction coaxes a low grunts out of him. He lifts his head from your chest to meet your gaze, his eyes smoldered with desire. His free hand is now coasting along your inner thigh, hiking up until his thumb is pressing over your underwear. He pulled the hem aside to reveal your pussy.

"What about this?" He starts to rub his thumb over your clit continuously in a tormentingly slow manner.

"More..." you beg breathily. "Please...," a moan slips when he thrusts two fingers inside you, keeping his eyes on you as he fulfills your wish for more. Your inner wall clenches around his digit with each push.

"So fucking tight..." he murmurs low under his breath as he works his finger in and out of you in a lazy manner. "How long has it been since the last time you're fucked, baby?"

Through your lust-filled haze, you can't even bring yourself to think. So you thoughtlessly mutter, "It's been a while."

His free hand trails from the side of your neck, up, to cup your face, "So delicate and beautiful," his voice thick, brimming with lust as he caresses your cheekbone. "Makes me want to protect and ruin you all at the same time," he let out deep chuckles. "Is that even possible?"

His hand disappears into your hair, and he leans in to kiss you sweet and slow, while his other hand continues to fuck your pussy, as sweet and slowly as his kiss. Although his touch brings pleasure to your body, it isn't enough to relieve that overwhelming ache between your legs, if possible, it only worsens it, making you more needy and desperate. So needy you start whining and moaning to beg for more. So desperate you start rocking your hips against his fingers to take control.

Wonwoo's fingers make a fist around your hair and he tugs it back, making your lips to detach from his. He looks into your eyes, his gaze dark and intense. "Stop it or I'll stop." He warns you.

You still and nod timidly, surprised to discover this dominant side of him, but even more surprised by your own submission. You didn't know you have it in you, considering how much you despise him ordering you around. But maybe it's different during sex, because you find it such a turn on when he takes control like this.

"Good girl," Wonwoo whispers his praise over your mouth. “Now tell me what you want, baby."

You drop your gaze to the hard-on underneath his black swim shorts. Although you can't see it well due to it being underwater, you can feel it damn well and Wonwoo gets the message. He hums and pulls his fingers out of your tight hole, causing a small gasp to fall from your lips. You loosen your thighs around his hips so he could remove his swim shorts. Your breathing slows when he wraps his fingers around the base of his cock. His jaw clenched as he gives it a few pumps before he slaps it hard over your pussy, drawing a lewd purr out of you.

Wonwoo brings his eyes up to stare at you, his dark pupils dilating. "I was planning to take it nice and slow today," He starts rubbing the tip of his cock over your slit and watches as you squirm against him.

"But you...God, you are one hell of a temptation to resist, aren't you?"

“Wonwoo, please.." your breath comes out ragged. "I don't think I can take it any- fuck!" The air is knocked out of you when he roughly slams his cock into you, stretching you so good you cry out a lewd sound of pleasure. You feel so full you can barely breathe, and he isn't even fully inside you yet.

Wonwoo drops his head to your shoulder and you feel his warm heavy pants fanning against your skin. "Baby, you're so tight my cock can barely fit," Wonwoo breathes out harshly and moans when you unconsciously squeeze around his cock. He lifts his head from your shoulder and plants his hand on the pool edge on each side of you.

Your heart nearly beats out of your chest when Wonwoo holds you in his gaze. His jaw is tight and you notice the bulging veins around his neck. He looks so masculine, so thoroughly turned on, and knowing that it is you who made him like this gives you a sense of ease and a little boost of confidence.

Feeling bolder now, you lean forward to put your mouth close to his ear. "Wonwoo." you whisper, parting your lips to pull his earlobe in between your teeth. "Fuck me, please, I can't wait any longer…”

"Jesus," He curses roughly. And when you lean back to stare at him, the heat in his brown eyes is growing hotter. "Where is this side of you coming from?" You chew your bottom lip through a smile. "I think you bring it out of me.”

“Fuck, you're so hot," he says hoarsely, moaning a little when your pussy clenched around his cock. "Hold on to me, baby." He orders, so you do as told, sliding your hands up and slinging them around his shoulder. He presses his lips in a thin line as he slides his cock out of you, leaving just the tip inside you. And with a grunt, he slams his cock deep inside you, until you are hugging every throbbing inch of him. Your fingers dig into his back in a reflex as he lets out a low guttural sound from the back of his throat.

He leans forward to capture your mouth in a hard kiss, and then he is pounding into you, driving his dick deep inside you mercilessly. It almost feels like he's going to rip you apart because he is so big, and you'd never been fucked so hard like this. With each thrust, the water sloshes all around and you are pushed harder against the wall.

You are a mess of moans and whimpers, and if it wasn't for the kiss that's muffling your lewd voice, you'll likely wake the housekeepers from their slumbers.

"How does my cock make you feel, sweetheart?" He whispers through a husky groan as he pumps his thick length in and out of you.

"So good," you say breathlessly over his mouth. "You make me feel so good, Wonwoo."

His thrusts are becoming quicker and harder now. He is fucking you as if he is losing control of himself, like he's a wild animal let loose of its cage. A beast unleashed. And it wasn't long until you feel that knot coiling up in your stomach

“Wonwoo," you panted heavily. "I-I'm close."

“I know, baby," He slips his hand under your stomach. He presses his thumb on your clit and pulls back to watch as he starts rubbing it aggressively. "Cum, cum for me."

A cry, almost a scream tears out of you as your body quakes and shudders against him. Your walls are convulsing around him but he didn't stop pounding his cock into you. Soon enough, you feel him swelling inside you as his orgasm nears. His long, guttural groan sounded in your ears, and with one last thrust, he jerks against you and unloads his cum into your pussy.

“Fuck," Wonwoo grunts harshly before he slumps into you. He drops his head to your shoulder as breathes heavily. Your thighs loosen around his hips and you drop your legs to the pool tiles, too languid to hold them up. As you try to moderate your breathing, reality begins to sink. Wonwoo has just cummed inside of you, without protection. Fear grips you tight in your chest.

"Wonwoo," you pat on his back and speak into his ear. "...we didn't use a condom."

He lifts his head, his chest inflating and deflating as he tries to regain his composure. "Don't worry, I'm clean." He finally says.

"It's not that," you explain. "I'm not on the pill." Wonwoo considers it calmly, as if you didn't just tell him the 'news' most men fear the most.

"One time is probably okay." He assures. "But if you end up pregnant, I promise I'll take care of you...and our baby."

Your heart soars. "Our… baby?" you voice out softly, half in disbelief, half liking how the words sounded when he said it.

"I just filled my sperm in your vagina, whose baby would it be if it's not ours?"

Your body shook as you laughed. No one you know has ever used the word 'sperm' and 'vagina' in a sentence. God, you really adore this funny and sexy man. You give him a smile. "You know it's funny how we do things the reverse way."

"Reverse way?"

You nod. "Usually, people fall in love first before they get married and make babies, but for us...it's the other way around."

"I don't think so," Wonwoo disagrees. "Because I think l've passed the first step."

"First step?" you ask. "What do you mean?" His answer is to lean in and kiss you. Sweet and softly. A complete opposite to the wild pool sex the two of you just had. The kiss lasted for a while before he pulled back to stare at you. His eyes hold so much emotion that it is making your heart rate go overdrive.

"When I got home today," He starts. "for a moment there, I had this bad feeling that you were gone, that you left me... and it scared me so much, baby." The expression in his eyes is something close to pain. "I know we don't have much time together, and I know if you decide not to marry me, I can't force you to stay...but if you leave, sweetheart… I'd be so broken because you,'" He sucks in a shaky breath. "You're starting to mean everything to me.”

You're starting to mean everything to me…

Your eyes roam over his face to search for any trace of mischief, or deception maybe, but there's none. He is being truthful. God. You are hit by a wave of emotions so intense you know you will likely burst into tears. "I..." Your lips part and unpart, trying to form a word but nothing comes out.

A look of understanding laces his eyes and he smiles. "It's okay, sweetheart. You don't have to say anything if you're not ready.”

Unlike Wonwoo, you are not someone who is good at expressing your feelings. But he has just shown you parts of him, and you know it is only right if you do too.

“I can't give you an answer yet because... honestly, I don't know it myself," you explain. "Marriage is a big thing and needs time to figure things out, Won," your hand moves up to cup his face.

"What I can tell you is, you mean something to me, and the thought of losing you scares me too." That brings a hopeful smile to his face. "Does that mean you'll stay?" He asks.

"Yes, Wonwoo." you return his smile. "I'Il stay as long as you want me to.”

𓂃۶ৎ

#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo fic #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x oc #svt fic #wonwoo smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #jeon wonwoo smut #svthub #smut #fluff #seventeen #wonwoo seventeen #wonwoo x y/n #wonwoo x you #svt

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yinyuedijun · 2 days ago

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HI CARROT (may I call you carrot?), thank you so much for the very kind feedback on this fic 🥺💗 I am so very glad that we exist in the same timeline where you decided to give this very silly piece a chance!!!

thank you for taking the time to write out your thoughts in such detail!!!! I can't help but respond to some of your observations, in particular the comments around hypersexuality and sex work. hypersexuality is a topic that is heavily nuanced imo. though it can of course be an uncomplicated behaviour for a lot of people (and it is usually depicted as such in fanfic - which imo is totally fine!), It is irl also a behaviour that is often coupled with self-esteem and safety issues irl and can actually be a pretty severe trauma response. I was trying to get at those aspects of hypersexuality within this narrative and I'm very glad that your interpretation of this fic kinda matches that!

SIMILARLY I do think sex work is equally complicated. despite the glamorous representations in fiction (and sometimes reality), I absolutely agree that it is often just a means to an end. BUT I still wrote this with the knowledge that the industry is often entangled with trafficking and exploitation and psychological stress. I wanted the reader to basically be somewhere in the middle of all that context - she has been exploited but she is also a hustler within her own right nowadays (as much as suo allows her to be lol) and I'm very happy that at least some of my efforts were apparent here. I'm especially glad to hear that you felt it was thoughtful representation even from your pov as someone who's researched and worked a lot in the field!!!! I've never studied any of this formally (I'm just going off informal research and limited personal experience) so I super appreciate your feedback!

ALSO. your point about the asian parenting floored me because I didn't write this couple with that dynamic in mind, BUT I too am asian and was raised with pretty traditionally minded parents. i totally agree with the parallels you are drawing here and can't help but wonder if that was some of my personal experience and ideas of love coming thru in the fic lol... thematically it also makes sense because suo and mc had tenuous parental figures (they lost the best one they had) and really did have to start parenting each other after their master's death. so even if it was not a conscious decision to write tiger parenting... I do think you are speaking facts here LOLOL

If I could, I'd respond to all your other super thoughtful observations (THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THEM ), but I fear I will bore you with all the yapping. so I will just reiterate that I endlessly appreciate your comments and can't thank you enough for them. I will definitely be returning to them on rainy days when I feel like quitting writing haha. thank you for being so encouraging!!!

SENDING U LOVE !!!!!

TOKYO VICE | part 2

“Do you remember,” Suo begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?” You tense. “No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs. “Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers and starts pulling the fabric down your sticky thighs—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.” (Or: Tired of your lies and self-deception, Suo takes matters into his own hands and forces the truth out of you.)

12.8k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au ft. yandere suo. mostly unrepentant smut, comedy, angst. warnings: sex work. nsft tags: afab reader, emotional sex, fingering, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, pussyjob, just the tip, creampie. suo is mean and makes you cry but there's no degradation, he's just a bastard lol. he also manhandles you a lot and you sit in his lap. dividers by @/cafekitsune!

part 1 here

You're surprised at Suo’s indifference to your sex life.

A month has gone by, and he’s made no comment on your habit of sleeping with customers, nor on the hours during which you come home—which are now even later than usual, since you have express permission to sleep with people and have no need to rush back to the penthouse after your ‘appointments’. And it isn't as if he's ignoring the reality of your late nights either. In a stunning show of respect for your personal freedom, he now actively offers to arrange for someone to pick you up from whichever love hotel you'll end up at. (You always decline, of course—if you're going to pretend to be his wife, you'd rather pretend to be a faithful one.)

Ironically, you had initially thought that Suo’s approval wouldn't matter either way. You had found the sex with your clients to be so uninspiring that it made you miss celibacy, so you were planning on stopping. But it turned out that you were deeply affected by the experience of sitting in Suo’s lap as he talked about his expectation of deciding whose cocks you should be allowed to take. It did something horrible to your sex drive, and thus you turned to work as your only outlet.

You spent around three weeks desperately trying to find a customer to satisfy your urges—or at the very least, to fuck you in a way that could get you to stop thinking of Suo whenever you got even a little horny. You were faced with utter failure in this pursuit, and in the end, bleakly resigned yourself to the reality that your shameful attraction to your best friend is incurable. You’ve now given up on the love hotel visits and simply take care of your needs with a vibrator instead. At least this way, you can actually say Suo’s name while you cum, rather than constantly reminding yourself to say your customer’s name instead.

The freedom of letting yourself fantasise about Suo has been exhilarating, but terrible for your friendship. It’s just difficult to sit across from him at breakfast and act like you haven't touched yourself at the table while he was gone, fantasising about what it would be like if he bent you over it and fucked you dumb. But you are a decent actor—hostessing demands that of you—so you don't think Suo has caught onto your carnal desires for him. Hopefully, he never will.

Another couple of weeks pass like this. Things are so calm that you come to believe that Suo is genuinely fine with you having some degree of sexual freedom, at least at work. This, however, turns out to be nothing short of naïvete.

After all, Suo is never forceful when he's upset with your decisions—but he also never fails to redirect them.

One spring evening, you show up at the kyabakura and are told that you’re only to see one customer tonight, and that it will be a private session.

“But we don't do private sessions here,” you say, blissfully unaware of your imminent suffering, “and we don't even have private rooms at this establishment.”

To this, your mamasan responds that the club is making an exception for this one guest, and that this guest has rented out the rooftop bar just to see you. When you ask just who this person might be, a look of mild panic flashes through her eyes. She grabs you by the shoulders and tells you to be careful. Just keep him happy and go home after, okay? she says. Don't go out for drinks, and definitely don't go to any love hotels. Don’t tell him your real name at any cost. You don't want to involve yourself with a man like him.

A sense of dread fills you as you step into the elevator.

A cool breeze greets you when you step onto the rooftop patio. Normally bustling with a raucous crowd, it almost feels eerie in its emptiness. Aside from the glow of the red light district beneath you and the city skyline in the distance, the only light is coming from the candles lighting one of the booths.

Your anxiety intensifies as you approach it.

You aren't very surprised at the sight of Suo lounging on a leather couch, dressed in full criminal regalia—infamous eyepatch, tassel earrings, and all. Sakura once mentioned that this club is connected to some colour gang, so you figure that the manager likely recognized Gui Yanzhao on sight. He probably suffered a minor angina when he did. The mamasan herself has no criminal ties to your knowledge, but she was probably informed that one of her girls was to entertain a high-profile yakuza, and she was likely worried that you'd been maimed in the process. Gui Yanzhao has a bit of a reputation for being a sadist, after all.

While you appreciate her concern, it is not Suo’s history of violence that scares you, but his history of antagonising you. On good days, there's nothing that delights him more than seeing you flustered or off-kilter. On bad days, there’s nothing that consoles him like spiteful retaliation against whomever's managed to piss him off—and you have, without a doubt, managed to piss him off.

You groan as soon as you see him, fearing the worst for your mental health.

“What are you doing here,” you say, and Suo smiles.

“Oh? You're not happy to see me?”

“No,” you moan. “How are you even here right now? Aren't you worried about being assassinated or something? Who did you terrorise to get an entire rooftop bar to yourself?”

“I have a very cordial relationship with all the major organisations on Keisei Street and was promised immunity during my visit tonight,” Suo says neatly. “And I didn't terrorise anyone. I simply walked into this fine establishment and politely asked for a private space to enjoy with my preferred hostess.”

Neither of you need to mention that the sight of the tassel earrings alone would be enough to terrorise someone. The manager probably felt like he was being extorted just from being on the receiving end of Suo’s smile. Actually, you currently feel like you're being extorted too.

You spend a good few moments giving him a look of open distress, to which he smiles.

“You know,” he says, “for a top-ranking hostess, you're not showing much hospitality right now.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

You force yourself to stop, remembering that you are, in fact, at work. Despite your mixed feelings about your industry, at the end of the day, you pride yourself on your work ethic. You take your job very seriously, and your job right now is to entertain your customer—even if said customer is your fake yakuza husband who is toying with you as a cat would a mouse.

Resigning yourself to a night of probable humiliation (one of Suo's greatest passions in addition to lying for comedy), you walk over to sit yourself next to him. And just like in Red Dragon’s lounge, Suo overturns the decision by pulling you into his lap. Your eyes go wide as he settles you on top of him—because unlike the intimate space of that crime scene, this is expressly forbidden behaviour at your club.

Also, unlike that other night, you are currently wearing the shortest dress imaginable and the tiniest thong you own.

You find yourself shivering as Suo's hand settles on your lower back, which is fully exposed thanks to the cut of your dress. You try not to focus on the calloused press of his fingers against your bare skin, but this is an exceedingly difficult endeavour, as his touch has been featured in your sexual fantasies for the past several weeks. Worse yet—your dress is now riding up your ass, and your thong isn't doing much to cover you. Whatever material his pants are made of—light, delicate—feels incredibly good against your thighs too.

If this continues, you might cum on the spot.

“Wait,” you say, and Suo raises a brow.

“Oh?”

“You aren't supposed to touch the hostesses here.”

He smiles. “I'm sure this place might be able to make an exception for me. But only if you are personally willing to, of course.”

“...”

Making an exception for him, in your current situation, would be among the worst decisions you've ever made. But after two of the most sexually frustrating months of your life, you’re ready to make horrible decisions.

“Fine,” you say. “But you better not cheap out on the drinks. The mamasan will only overlook this if you make it worth our while.”

“Of course,” Suo says. “Though I think she’d overlook a lot of things for me regardless.”

Suo makes good on his promise and orders a great deal of alcohol. All top shelf, of course. He laughs that his goal is to bring you to the number 1 ranking with his patronage alone tonight. It’s a hideous display of wealth.

As you pour him an absurdly expensive drink (a Hibiki 30 year-old blended whiskey), you reminisce on how little money you both used to have as teens. He had to be so careful with his wallet whenever he felt like visiting you—or rather, checking in on you—at work. Especially after your master passed. The two of you were very good about staying financially independent, but there was something comforting about your master’s promise to support you if anything ever happened.

With him gone, you and Suo had only financial paranoia and each other.

You guess that might have affected Suo more than you thought. Perhaps he didn't join the yakuza to spite you, but to support you. Certainly, he seems to enjoy spoiling you right now—treating you to drinks that would easily clear a year of his salary as a teen, buying out an entire night of your time at a high end club, renting out a whole floor just so that he can have you to himself. When you point out that his tab must be getting catastrophic, he only laughs.

“I did always say that I wanted to spend money on you,” he recalls. It had been a running joke during your days at the girls’ bar, when you scolded him for paying 3000¥ per hour just to visit you. You hated that he was wasting money on the red light district; he always replied that it wasn't a waste, because it was money spent to see you.

You feel your stomach flutter at the comment. You didn't think he'd remember words from so long ago. As a teenager, you had a tendency of clinging onto small, inconsequential moments with him because they brought you so much joy. You’ve always assumed he would have forgotten them, writing them off as instances of shallow teasing—but if he remembers, then surely they meant something to him too?

This would all make you feel sentimental if you weren't outrageously horny.

Suo has kept you on his lap the whole evening, even as you pour him drinks. Every movement to serve him has you involuntarily rubbing on his thigh, and you're quite certain at this point that he's been lifting your skirt up inch by inch with every casual touch on your waist. You don't bother accusing him of it, though. He'd just give you an innocent look and say that it was an accident. What a horrible man.

Accident or not though, it doesn't change the fact that your nearly bare cunt is pressed right against him. You keep trying to shift positions to pull down your skirt or lift yourself off him, but each attempt only makes it worse—brings the soft fabric of his pants right against your pussy, or makes your clit drag against his thigh, with only your thong separating your bodies. You try to suppress your arousal, but to your overwhelming horror, you can't seem to control yourself. You feel yourself getting wet, folds quickly becoming slick as you’re forced to grind on him. Your body, already warm from all the cocktails and shots, grows even hotter as you squirm on his lap.

In a desperate move to regain some control, you fully get up to reach for another drink. But then you feel a pair of hands on your waist, and Suo pulls you back onto his leg—this time forcing you to straddle it. You can't help the whimper that leaves you as your dripping cunt is spread and pressed against him, your clit throbbing against his thigh.

You pray that he doesn't notice the noise, so of course he does.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” Suo’s hand drifts over your waist and down to your thigh, where it ghosts over your bare skin. He leans in, and his voice is silky as he speaks into your ear: “You're moving around a lot. Do you need to get up?”

He’s giving you an out. It's quite considerate of him, as staying like this would not be a good decision. But for better or worse, you have a tendency to make bad ones.

“...no, I'm fine.”

“Good,” he says. “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable at all. I'm happy to move if you'd like.”

As if demonstrating, Suo shifts the leg you're sitting on, directly rubbing it against your core. You try not to shudder, feeling yourself get even wetter, clenching around nothing.

Trying to ignore how empty you are, you grasp for other topics of conversation, something to distract you. A little scrambled from the alcohol and catastrophically aroused, you of course land on the one that's been making your sex drive unmanageable.

“Remember a month ago,” you say, “how you talked about choosing who gets to touch me?”

“Yes.” His palm is warm against your thigh. He isn't moving it, so there's plausible deniability, but the amused tone of his voice suggests that he knows what he's doing. “Does that bother you?”

Of course it should bother you. It's a level of control that's appalling even to your anxiously-attached ass. But it’s also making you wetter right now. You try not to cry—from misery or sexual frustration, you're not sure.

“Well, yeah. Come on, Suo—even you should know that's really weird of you.”

“I do,” he says, smiling like he isn't admitting to deranged behaviour. “But how else am I supposed to know you're safe? Or even aside from being safe—if your needs are being met.” His hand runs up and down your thigh before settling at the hem of your dress. “I wouldn't want you to go unsatisfied. Who knows what kind of people you'd seek out if that happened.”

You actively stop yourself from putting your face in your hands. The gall of him saying this after forcing you into extended celibacy is beyond words, especially as you're being forced to rub up on him, effectively ruining every attempt you've made not to think about him sexually for the past several years. There are many materially consequential reasons for your decision to not fuck Suo—you should not be soaked through your panties, your thighs sticky with need, as you sit on his lap.

“That's,” you say lamely, “not very normal of you.” Trying for a less sensual conversation, you go for the reliable topic Sakura’s romance radar: “Also, if satisfaction was your concern, why did you choose Sakura? I love that guy a lot, but he has literally no experience. And I think he'd blue-screen trying to keep a friend with benefits. You know he can't handle a fuckbuddy.”

You are not trying to be mean. What Sakura objectively needs for his first time is someone sweet and emotionally competent and, most importantly, not an absolute freak like you. This is a failure of your character, not his.

You can hear Suo’s smile in his reply: “I don't think you're giving him enough credit.”

“He has the social skills of a feral cat.”

Suo genuinely laughs. “Sure, when he first came to Makochi. But he's much better now. Plus, you have no room to talk. I mean”—his breath sweeps over your ear—“you used to be pretty wild yourself. I've just domesticated you is all… though you've been misbehaving lately.”

His words do something horrible to you. Trying to distract yourself from the mounting sexual tension, you turn to him to give him a biting retort, but you're abruptly stopped by the look in his eye. Distinctly hungry and unrepentant in its desire, his gaze roams openly and shamelessly along the curves of your body.

You feel like you're being eaten alive.

Plenty of customers have looked at you in such a way when you wear this outfit, but none have had this effect on you—which is to say, making you clench immediately.

You try not to cry. You actually will cum on the spot at this rate, and you don't think you could be subtle about it. You're barely keeping it together right now, with how your pussy keeps fluttering and dripping. Coupled with the way that the alcohol is melting the edges of your self-control, you're shocked you haven't at least moaned yet.

In a last ditch effort to save your friendship, as well as your rental (house arrest) situation, you slap a hand over his mouth.

“Stop that.”

Suo laughs. He grabs your wrist, lifts your palm away. “Why?”

Why? Because if you keep talking like that, I'll bend over and start begging you to fuck me! you think. But even in your inebriated, horny state, it feels like a poor idea to admit this aloud. You end up saying, “Hostesses aren't paid to flirt like this. Strictly speaking, we’re paid to be conversational partners.” You frown at him. “You're breaking a lot of club rules right now.”

This reprimand backfires on you, as you are suddenly filled with intrusive thoughts of breaking every single rule in this establishment with Suo, including the ones preventing you from climbing on top of him and riding him raw. You squirm at the thought, wishing you could close your legs rather than making a mess of your underwear (now a lost cause), but Suo’s grip stays firm on your waist.

He, himself, is unbothered by your scolding. “Okay,” he says simply. “Then I won't speak to you as a hostess. I want to speak to you, seriously, as a friend.”

His smile is so disarming, it makes you nervous. But he sounds earnest enough for you to be curious, and anyway, you're desperate for something to distract you from your wet cunt.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, “What do you have to say, as a friend?”

“I just have one question.”

“Sure. Shoot.”

His hand comes to rest in your thigh again. He leans in, breath so hot against your ear that your heart jumps.

“I can accept that you wanted to see customers just to satisfy your urges. But tell me why you didn't come to me first.”

You freeze up. Look at him, wide-eyed.

“Wh-what?”

Suo just smiles. Looks so fucking innocent you wonder if you misheard, but his voice is sharp when he replies: “Let me put it another way. Why have we never slept together?”

For some reason, you’ve never thought that he'd ask you this question point blank, even though you've asked it to yourself many times. It takes you several moments to piece together a response, during which Suo’s expression turns distinctly wicked. A sign that he smells blood.

“Why would you think we would have?” you ask carefully.

“Because we’ve both clearly thought about it. You especially.”

You try to keep a straight face. “No I haven't. I don't know what you're talking about.” You raise a brow. “How would you even know?”

“Because,” he says, hand inching up your thigh, “you’re so wet that I can feel it.”

You're mortified.

Shame floods your body, first because of the accusation, and then because you know it's true. You were tipsy enough not to think about this, but now—sobering up from sheer panic— you're acutely aware of how you've soaked through the fabric beneath you. Something that Suo had certainly known, and chose to encourage.

What a horrible man.

When you don't reply, he tilts his head. “Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Do you want me to show you?”

His hand is moving so slowly, you know he's giving you another out. You could easily get off his lap. You could even slap him and call him a sleazy drunk and grouse at him to go home. You could forgive him in the morning for coming onto you and say he'd obviously made an inebriated mistake, as opposed to a very calculated decision. Your friendship would stay mostly intact. His grip on you might tighten, but that would be fine. You would still get to stay with him.

And that's all you've ever wanted. Just to stay with him.

But you're so wet, so empty, so aching. You want to be touched. You want to be touched by Suo, and only by Suo. You want to be fucked by him, to be owned by him, to be ruined by him. You’ve wanted it so badly and so long that you can't even remember when it started—only that you want it to end.

So instead of moving away, you sit there and endure the humiliation of getting your cunt inspected by him.

Suo hums as he opens your legs. You suppress a whimper as a finger moves along your folds, at the noise it makes as it runs through your slick. “Look, you’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. He finds your clit—swollen, neglected, and you whimper as he starts to draw slow, lazy circles around it. “Poor thing.”

“It’s only because you had me grinding on you the whole night,” you say through gritted teeth. “It doesn't—ngh—doesn’t mean I’ve been wanting to fuck you.”

You sound pissed enough that you'd convince anyone else, but you know, even without seeing his face, that Suo can tell you're bullshitting.

“You’re not a good liar,” he remarks. A fine teacher even when humiliating people, Suo can't help but add, “If you have to tell a lie, at least come up with a believable one.”

“What makes it unbelievable?” you reply, words clipped off by a sharp inhale as he starts rubbing your pussy.

“Well,” he starts nonchalantly, as if he isn't toying with your cunt, “after you were targeted in that succession conflict, I put hidden cameras in the area, and also in our suite.”

Your eyes go wide. Even in your aroused state, the implications are making you panic. “You—you what?”

“It was for security purposes,” he dismisses casually, as if he's not admitting to a serious invasion of privacy. “Only near the front door and the common areas. I just wanted to catch intruders and any suspicious behaviour from my men. But imagine my surprise”—you feel his fingers start to press into your cunt—“when I instead caught you fucking yourself on the couch and moaning my name.”

You’re mortified. Humiliated. Mind racing with every instance you were horny and stupid enough to touch yourself in a common space. You think about yelling at him about the cameras, but then you feel two fingers sinking into you, and now you aren't thinking about much at all.

Your mind goes blank as you're stretched open by him. Your cunt is so wet, so empty, but the feeling still makes you whine. Your brow furrows, and you give him a pleading look. Slowly, please.

“Don't worry,” he says in a soothing tone, “I know you can handle this. I've seen you take much bigger. Though”—he shifts, pulls you so you're in between his legs, and now you can feel the length of him against you, hard and aching and huge, what the fuck—“maybe not big enough.”

You tighten around his fingers as he grinds against you. You want him inside you so badly, it hurts. Suo laughs when he feels your desperation, and he sounds so amused that you can't help but feel ashamed. But even more than shame, you feel aroused. You take the rest of his fingers easily, down to the knuckle.

“What the fuck, Suo,” you eventually manage through your panting, though not with much bite. “You weren't—ahh—meant to see any of that.”

“Sorry,” he says, sounding deeply unapologetic. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn't watch much, and I deleted all of it. I didn't need to see that to know you have feelings for me.”

You tense. “What feelings?” you ask, and Suo stops. He pulls his fingers out of you—you breathe sharply at the loss—and manhandles you until you're straddling his lap. Forces you to look at him, into his one eye. It's knife-sharp, brutal, but familiar. You don't struggle, nor do you feel uneasy.

But you do feel like prey.

“Do you remember,” he begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?”

Fuck.

“No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs.

“Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.”

He smiles at you. Actually looks kind and even sounds earnest. What a fucking sociopath. You allow him to slide your underwear down your legs, kicking them off. Now your pussy is completely bare to him, and you can hear the way his breath stops as he touches it again. Three of his fingers push in this time, and you pant openly at the stretch, leaning against him as your body trembles from the stretch. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching your reactions—your whimpers, your sighs, the way your eyelashes flutter when he brushes that one spot inside you.

“I’ve always had feelings for you,” he starts, using that nonchalant, delicate tone—the specific one that suggests danger, “and I know you’re too smart to have missed that. I’d be fine with it if you didn't return them, but you do.”

“I don't,” you protest, and then his fingers curl and press into your g-spot. You're cut off immediately, gasping at the sudden wave of heat in your belly.

A hand comes up to your chin. He forces you to look at him. “I said I wanted to have an honest conversation, remember.”

“I–I am being honest, I—” Your voice breaks as he starts pumping his fingers. It's slow, gentle, but precise. Tension builds in you at an alarming rate, your thighs getting as slick and messy as his hand. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, breathe in his cologne and gasp into his skin, and your mind goes hazy from the euphoria of his touch. Sure, you've hugged Suo before, been held by him before, and god knows you've been touched like this by a ton of other people before—but it feels different now. It feels different when it's Suo who's touching you, different when you’re this close to him while he's drawing all this pleasure out of you. When one hand feels so good inside you and the other one is holding you so intimately.

“Suo,” you whimper, overwhelmed by hot tension in your belly, “I-I’m close, I’m close, oh fuck—

He stops.

Before you can comprehend what's happening, he’s withdrawing his fingers, and all the heat in you is melting away. Your orgasm lost, you come down from your high—nerves frayed, emotions taut.

“Suo,” you say, “what the fuck?”

He gives you a smile. It almost looks nice. “I'm not letting you cum until you tell me the truth.”

You’re going to cry.

You're so wet, so empty, so desperate, and now you feel oddly afraid. You don't like the way he's staring you down. You don't like this line of questioning, this bullshit of engaging with other people's feelings. You’ve never liked it. But you need—need—him to fuck you. You need his fingers inside you and you need to cry into his neck while you finish.

You say, very quietly, “Please, Suo.”

“Please, what?”

It's funny. You've performed begging and crying and submission for countless clients, sometimes during annoyingly rough sessions. You've done it for years. But nothing has ever felt so humiliating as this moment, when you ask your best friend, in the smallest voice possible, “Please touch me.”

“No. Not until you start being honest with me.”

Suo's mouth curls at the devastated look you give him. You hardly even notice that he's adjusting you, having you straddle his thigh again—this time, facing him. You don't register it until your cunt is pressed into the wet spot you left earlier and he's saying, “You can move if you'd like. But I'm not touching you.”

“You’re fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, but your pussy is throbbing and you're desperate for release. So you finally do what you were desperately trying to stop yourself from doing the whole night—you start grinding on him. Like a fucking animal in heat. It's embarrassing, especially because his leg feels so good against you. The friction on your pussy makes you pant, your eyes squeezing shut as your clit finally gets some pressure. It makes up for the way he’s looking at you, which is sly, handsome, and rage-inducing all at once.

“You really do need to be touched,” he remarks softly. “You said your customers satisfied you. Was that true? Did they properly fuck you?”

“N-no,” you gasp. Your mind feels so cottony now that you're getting some relief. You can barely think, and definitely not enough to lie. “It was—it was—fuck, I never came.”

He hums, satisfied. “There—see? Telling the truth isn't so hard. You can do it again.”

He sounds so condescending. You would ordinarily hate it, but for some reason, it's going straight to your pussy right now, making you drip so much you know you've ruined his pants. You’re getting close, too, just by rubbing yourself on his leg. It doesn't feel quite as good as when his fingers were in you, but it’s something. And it’s making it hard to focus on what he's saying.

“It’s fine if you can't be honest about your feelings,” Suo continues. “Let's assume you're telling the truth, and all you want to do is fuck me. Why haven't you?”

You try to answer him, but you can't. You're too focused on the roll of your hips against his leg. There's too much tension, too much heat. You melt against him again, breathing heavily into his shoulder as you tighten around nothing. His hands come to your waist, as if grounding you, and somehow this makes everything feel even better. You start panting, babbling, I'm close, I'm getting close, Suo, Suo—

His grip tightens, and he stops you in place. You cry in frustration—no tears, but the noise you make is broken.

“Answer my question,” he says. You feel a hand glide along your bare skin, stopping at your inner thigh. “Answer me and I'll touch you.”

“Okay,” you say, as desperate as you are distressed. “Okay, I'll do anything. Anything.”

“Good.” He sounds so pleased.

You put your arms around his neck, for no reason other than you want to. Lifting your hips, you part your legs for him, and you feel so relieved at just the touch of his hand that you sigh—even though all he's doing is running a finger along your slick folds.

You shudder as his fingers play with your sex. Lean your head on his shoulder as he starts to move. You’re so desperate that you start grinding against his hand, whining for him.

“Well, then,” he murmurs. “Tell me why you didn't come to me. This is all you wanted, isn't it?” He rolls your clit between two fingers, making you squirm. “Just to get off, right? I could have done that. You'd have enjoyed it more.”

“It”—your eyelids flutter shut—“it would have been too complicated. Y-you’re my boss, and I pay rent to y-you, and we’ve been friends for so long, I didn't want to make it weird—”

Suo delivers a sharp slap to your pussy.

The contact is so sudden that you yelp. It only stings a little, but it makes your clit ache. The noise it makes is so wet, so filthy, telling of your desperation. And to your shame—even though you have never once in your life enjoyed being handled roughly by your customers—your cunt starts leaking in response.

You whimper, about to burst from frustration. You need to be touched so bad. You need to be touched by him so bad, and you need to cum on his cock or else you'll lose your fucking mind.

“Suo,” you complain, or beg, and you don't even realise that you're tearing up until he swipes his thumb under your eye.

“Try again,” he says gently, but not kindly. “The truth this time, and then I'll make you cum. Why didn't you come to me first? These past few months, or any other time?”

You don't answer him. “Suo, please—” And he moves back so that you're no longer leaning against him. Your lip trembles at the loss of the warmth, which somehow feels worse than the loss of your orgasm. An actual tear rolls down your cheek, and he doesn't wipe this one away.

“Answer me,” he says firmly. Instead of replying, you try to reach for him—wanting to be pressed against his body again, wanting him to draw pleasure out of yours again—but he stills you with his hands.

You feel devastated.

Out of horny, emotional desperation, and an all-consuming need to be fucked, you admit, “I was just scared!”

This is the worst mistake you've ever made.

The minute the words dislodge from your throat, you feel yourself choke up. You don't know why. All you know is that you suddenly can't hold back your tears from your sexual frustration, which for some reason is starting to feel distinctly like a non-sexual kind of angst, which is also strangely painful for your chest.

Because now that you've said it out loud, you can't ignore it.

You want to hide. You want to crawl out of his lap and run out of the establishment. Surely, the mamasan will forgive you for leaving a shift with such a frightening and horrible man, who is currently trying to extort your feelings out of you. But Suo’s grip is solid and unforgiving on you, and all you can do is squirm.

“Scared of what?” Suo asks. His voice has gone soft. Actually soft—not in a way that suggests danger, but a way that suggests you're loved. It makes you tremble.

His arms circle you, and one rubs at your back. It makes you relax very slightly. Or at the very least, it makes you stop wanting to bolt.

“What were you scared of?” he prompts again.

A feeling of defeat washes over you. Suo will figure you out sooner or later. He always does. So you tell him, very quietly, “I was scared that—that you'd leave me.”

You realise that you just stuttered. You stuttered because you're crying. You're actually, genuinely crying. Not from sexual frustration, but because you're just frustrated in general. And miserable. You've been chronically miserable for most of your life, and that misery has had nowhere to go until now.

You press your face into Suo’s shoulder, and he lets you. You breathe deeply in an attempt to stop crying, his cologne washing over you. It's nice, but what feels most comforting is just the scent of him. You're used to it from the days before he'd ever thought about using a fragrance, let alone a fragrance that would bankrupt the average person. It's calming, even when overlayed with ambergris and vanilla. Familiar.

Your breathing evens out a little—but only a little.

“Why would I leave you?” His voice is so kind, patient. More tears bead on your lashes.

“Because you might not want me anymore.” You sound so fragile. Shit, you are fragile. You can't stop the splintering feeling in you, the same one that ate at you two months ago when you thought he was going to leave you. “You could get tired of me or resent me or get bored with me. You could—you could want to throw me away, for no reason. Or—” You breathe in sharply, clinging to him harder.

“Or?”

“Or you could die—you joined the yakuza, so you could die. Why did you do that?” An actual sob leaves you. His shirt is getting wet. You ruined so many of his silk changshan like this in the past, when your boyfriend cheated on you and when your parents kicked you out and when you slept with your fifth customer.

And when your master died.

“I'm still so fucking mad at you for it,” you bite out around your tears. “If you got fucking killed—oh my god, I can't even think about it. I can't—I couldn't take it if—if I kissed you, and we had sex, and then I didn't have you anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the only thing I have.” You squeeze your eyes shut, a terrible realisation hitting you. “And…”

“And?”

“And,” you say, voice breaking, “I think because I love you?”

You know it as soon as you voice it. You do love him. Not just platonically, but in the way where you want to hold his hand and kiss him and marry him. In the way a miserable nineteen year old girl is so in love with her miserable best friend that she refuses to leave him despite how terrifying he’s becoming. You loved him in this way before you realised you wanted to have sex with him, and even after that, you loved him so much that it didn't matter that he wasn't having sex with you.

You love him so much it disgusts you.

You want to hide, but Suo forces you to look at him. He brushes away your tears, cups your face. The Pavlovian response takes over: your heart rate slows, and you calm down.

“There,” he says gently. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

He’s wrong. You bet he knows he's wrong. That was objectively one of the worst experiences of your life. You feel wrung out, tenderised. You never thought you'd say any of that. You're not sure you knew most of that.

But in Suo’s arms, plied open with his words and his hands, you actually find yourself shaking your head. You lean into the touch of his palm.

“I love you,” he continues, his tone so authoritative and calm that it leaves no room for doubt, “probably to the point that it should scare you. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you say quietly.

“And we won't be separated. I won't allow anything to take you away from me. Do you understand that too?”

You make a noise, halfway between a relieved sigh and another sob. This declaration should not be a surprise from a man who’s effectively locked you up in his house. Still—your heart feels so light when you hear someone say, for the first time in your life, that they’ll stay with you no matter what. It's like Suo has just unearthed a weight that you didn't know you'd been carrying.

“I’ll try,” you reply, voice small.

“Good.” He strokes your cheek. “Do you want to keep going?”

It’s absurd. You just cried and confessed something terrifying. With anyone else, this would be an experience so horrifying that you'd leave right now and never come back. Your sexual desire should not just be gone, but permanently erased. At the very least, you shouldn't feel the slightest bit horny.

But somehow, being gutted by Suo hasn't left you feeling bad. It's left you feeling lighter. Kind of like you've been purged. You feel exhausted, but in a malleable way. Dazed and relieved to be in his lap. Your thighs are still embarrassingly sticky, heart still embarrassingly wobbly, and you just heard him say that he loves you.

Now you want to hear him say it while he's cumming inside you.

“Yeah,” you admit immediately, pathetically. You sniffle.

“You're sure?” Another stroke. “I want to hear you say it clearly. What do you want to do?”

Your dignity is gone. “I want you to fuck me.”

He smiles. A fond hum leaves him. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel a flutter in your belly. “I'll take care of you now.”

He kisses you this time, before he touches you. On the neck, on your jaw. You bare your nape to him, shivering at the feeling of his lips on your jugular, at his nipping teeth on your skin. You realise he's leaving marks, and with each one, you shudder. It feels so intimate. You're on a rooftop bar, in a skanky hostessing dress, crying and strung out—but this is the closest thing you've ever gotten to one of your fantasies about him. Not the nasty ones that you think about when you're home by yourself, but the ones you think of when you're in bed with various salarymen. The ones where you get to lie with him in bed and press your lips to his.

“Suo,” you start.

“Hayato,” he corrects you. “You're my fiancée now, remember? We should be on a first name basis.”

Your stomach flips. “Hayato,” you try again, breathless. “Please.”

He takes a moment to reply, busy sucking another mark into your skin. “Please, what?”

You hesitate. Suo pulls back, looking at you. You whine, feeling shy all of a sudden. You flirt for a living and yet you feel embarrassed about your request. It's humiliating.

“Please, what?” he repeats. His mouth is curled in a smile, and you can't tell whether it's endeared or entertained. “Please let you cum? Please fuck you?”

“Please kiss me,” you say, in a small voice.

Suo pauses.

“What?”

“Please kiss me,” you beg. Close to tears again, for some reason you don't know. You think it surprises him as much as it does you.

It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, he gives you a look that’s fucking ravenous.

His thumbs away the wetness from your eyes. “You're so cute sometimes. Did you know that?”

You flush. Plenty of customers have called you cute, but none have had you feeling so indignant nor shy.

“I’m not,” you reply, “and stop that.”

“But it's true. And I want you to know it.”

Suo presses his mouth to yours before you can respond. You're so eager for him that you part your lips immediately. Your instinct is to make your first kiss with him messy and desperate, but he’s in full control, and he’s taking his time. His tongue is careful and precise. Full of intention. His lips are slow, languid, and lazy, like he's savouring the taste of you. A hand plays with the strap of your dress. You feel him slide it off your shoulder—the other one quickly follows—but you’re so absorbed in his kiss, you hardly pay attention.

You're vaguely aware of the breeze against your bare chest. One of his hands moving up, feeling out your curves. He hums into your mouth when his fingers ghost over your nipples, and they harden under his touch.

“Suo,” you whine as he teases them, and he pinches one of them, watching as you squirm.

“Hayato,” he corrects you promptly, and you give him a worn, teary look.

“Hayato.”

“Yes?”

“I need more,” you say quietly.

He smiles, clearly enjoying your desperation. “Be patient,” he teases you. “I’m getting there.”

He kisses a line along your jaw, down your neck. Traces your collarbone with the path of his mouth, works his way down to your breasts. At the same time you feel the heat of his tongue on your nipple, his hand reaches between your legs. You're so wet already that he doesn't need to work you open again—just sinks his fingers inside you until you're sighing for him.

You discover that when he's not antagonising you, Suo is frighteningly efficient with pleasuring you. He learns quickly how you like your tits played with, and how to fuck you so well with his fingers until you're gushing around them and keening. He said he'd take care of you, but you think he's mostly forcing all this pleasure from your body for his own enjoyment. There's no other explanation for how he keeps bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, swallowing each of your whines and complaints with his mouth. The only time he isn't kissing you is when you're begging—and you don't miss the way his breathing deepens every time you do.

But no matter how much you beg, he isn’t letting you cum.

“Look at the mess you're making,” he murmurs as he plays with your cunt. You're sitting between his legs again, your back against his chest. You can feel the length of his cock against your ass, and you hear how his breath hitches every time you squirm against it. Except for that one tell, he sounds completely unaffected by what he's doing—forced you to open your legs wide for him, spread your glistening folds to tease you. The leather beneath your ass is wet, ruined by your need.

“Hayato,” you whine.

“Just a little longer,” he promises, “and then I'll let you cum.”

Your mind is so fogged with pleasure at this point that you can't focus on anything other than Suo’s touch. You’ve actually forgotten where you are—not a truly private space, but part of a club. The girls would normally only come up if you put in an order, but you haven't for a while now.

Long enough for someone to check on you without warning.

You tense as soon as you hear the door open. You recognize the server—she knows you well, by face, stage name, and real name. Your eyes go wide as she calls for you. You try to sit up, close your legs, but Suo grabs one of your thighs and forces it open.

“Suo, wait—”

You whimper, incapable of words when his fingers push into you again. He starts fucking you with them, and in earnest this time—curling his fingers until they're pushing into your g-spot, doing it over and over and over. Your eyes roll back and you stop struggling, and Suo takes the opportunity to touch you with his other hand too, playing with your clit. A strangled moan leaves you as the heat in your gut ratchets up. Pleasure swells in your belly; you feel like you're going to burst.

“Suo,” you cry, tears pricking your eyes, “wait, wait, my coworker—wait, I think—I think I'm gonna—”

“Go ahead,” he says into your ear, voice silky, and he pushes against your sweet spot in a way that gives you no choice but to obey him.

You cum so hard that you squirt all over the seat. Your whole body is wracked with intense pleasure—hips bucking violently, legs twitching, crying so loudly and shamelessly that your coworker naturally hears. She catches you spread wide open in Suo’s lap, his fingers deep in your messy, swollen cunt as you drench them.

Her tray clatters to the floor.

Fighting the mindless haze that your body is in, you glance at the other girl, whose hand is over her mouth. She looks appalled. She’s going to yell at you. But then you then watch, in real time, as her eyes travel to your customer’s face and she realises who he is. If she was red when she saw the two of you, she's now a pale white.

“Did you come to check on us?” Suo asks. He sounds amused. She flinches at his voice, and actually takes a step backward. “We’re fine for now. We’ll order something in a bit, and call you up here as usual.”

“O-okay,” she says, voice high and tense. “I—I’ll leave you two, then. Please—please enjoy yourself, sir. We'll be available in case you require any other services.” And she walks away briskly, almost in a run. She doesn't even bother to stop the expressly forbidden act that you're engaged in.

Once she’s gone, Suo allows you some dignity. He pulls his fingers out of you, lets you catch your breath.

“Oops,” he says. “It’s too bad they caught us. I suppose they won't want to keep you on as an employee, since you broke such an important rule.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. Your emotional and sexual pliability quickly dissipates, replaced by disbelief.

“You—you did that on purpose,” you say between pants, too fucked out to be truly angry, but still appalled.

Suo raises a brow, gives you an innocent look. “Did I? I was just making you cum, like you've been begging all night. It was just unfortunate timing.” He then smiles, which makes him look incredibly kind despite the apparent sadism of his person. “But it's fine. They're going to fire you for this, but you know my club will always take you back.”

You close your eyes and groan. “You’re horrible.”

“I am, aren't I?” Suo puts his arms around you, kisses you on the shoulder, his voice getting low. “But this is a better arrangement, don't you think? You won't need to see customers this way. Every time you need relief, you can come upstairs and I'll give you my cock instead.” He grinds against you, letting you feel how hard he is, and you whimper. He laughs, probably entertained at how desperate you sound. “Or maybe I'll just make you take it whenever I feel like it. I think at the end of every shift makes sense, doesn't it? Since that's how often you've been touching yourself on the couch.”

“S-suo.”

“It’s Hayato now, remember. What is it, dear?”

He sounds so smug, mocking you. You should be furious. But in your fucked out state, all you can focus on is the idea of being forced to take Suo's cock every night. Despite already being ruined, your pussy starts throbbing again. You squirm and press your thighs together, trying to get it to stop—you’re so fucking tired—and you bleakly realise that you can't control your body’s reactions around him. You're getting wet again. It makes you want to cry.

“Hayato,” you whimper, on the verge of tears.

“Ah, you addressed me properly. Good.” He’s so satisfied. “What is it?”

“I…”

“You?”

“I”—your voice is so small and embarrassed, you can hardly believe it—“I want you to fuck me.”

He feigns shock, as if he wasn't actively provoking this. “Really? But you just came.” A hand prods between your legs. You obediently spread them for him, and he checks your pussy with two of his fingers. You moan a little at the intrusion, but there's no resistance at all.

Your cunt, still dripping, tightens around him, and he laughs softly.

“You really do need a cock in you. Who knew you had such a needy pussy.” He curls his fingers. Probably feeling the way it makes you gush, delighting in the gasp it draws out of you. “No wonder you have to use that toy every day.”

You're about to die of embarrassment. “Hayato. Please just fuck me.”

Suo turns you so that you can look at him. He’s wearing a kind, benevolent face when he says, “No.”

“...what?”

“I'm not going to give you my cock.” He hums, contemplative. “Not for a while, I think.”

“B-but,” you say, genuinely upset, “but you were just talking about doing that at work.”

“Sure—after we get married. It's only proper, don’t you think?”

“What?” Your eyes are wide in disbelief. “You—you just made me cum with your fingers. In a public space.”

“Yes. But that's different from letting you have my cock. It wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to do that before we’re wedded.” He can't keep the amusement out of his voice as he bullies you. “I'm sure you can wait until the summer, right? Since that's the season you chose for us. August, I think you told Nirei.”

“Hayato—”

“Actually,” he muses, easily sliding a third finger into you, making your voice clip off in a whimper, “I think you shouldn’t be allowed to have anything in you until then. Except for my fingers and tongue, of course. But no toys, and no other men either. That definitely wouldn't be proper.”

“I'm going to,” you say spitefully—and tearfully. “If you don't fuck me right now, I will sleep with other people.”

“I don't think you want to find out the consequences if you do.”

“How would you even—ngh—know?”

“Good question.” He starts pumping his fingers, and to your horror, your cunt needily swallows them with each motion, your body as desperate as he's been saying. “I guess I'll need to check your pussy every night. See if it's been stretched out by someone else’s cock. Maybe upstairs in the lounge at the end of each night, so I'll know that you haven't fucked a customer during a shift. Clearly, it's not impossible that you would.”

You try not to sob. Not only are his words utterly humiliating, they're making you wetter. After fucking so many people in so many ways, you didn't know it was possible for you to feel this much shame during sex—but then again, shaming people is one of Suo’s specialties.

You give him the teariest look possible, because by now you've figured out that he likes seeing you cry. Sadistic motherfucker. You're happy to use it to your advantage though.

He gets that hungry look in his eye again. “Please, Hayato,” you beg, voice trembling with need, “I want more. I thought I was your beautiful wife already.” You grind your ass against his cock, and he inhales sharply. “Don't you wanna cum in your wife’s pussy?”

Suo stops, deeply affected—just as you guessed he'd be. After making you his fake wife in both his criminal life and his civilian one, it's painfully obvious that the man is obsessed with marrying you. You'd make fun of him if you weren't so horny. Or humbled.

He only allows himself speechlessness for a second. He hums soon after, delicately wiping the tears out of your eyes. “You've been good enough that I guess I can reward you. I won't fuck you, but”—he shifts away, and you can hear his pants unzipping—“I’m sure you'll enjoy yourself anyway.”

Suo wasn't lying earlier. His cock is bigger than any toy you've ever used. It's pretty, too. Curved and long and flushed at the head. Glistening with prespend, which has pearled up at the tip. You think you might be salivating. For a minute, you contemplate asking if you can feel it in your throat, but then Suo’s lying down and moving you on top of him. When his cock nudges at your folds, you can’t help your excitement. You squirm, trying to sink onto his length.

His grip tightens on your waist, stopping you.

You’re about to whine at him about this, but he doesn't give you the chance. “If you try to ride me,” he says, in a voice so cold that you know he's not joking, “I'm not touching you until we’re married, and I'm not letting you touch yourself either.”

“...”

With anyone else you'd call bullshit, but you know that Suo is both crazy and petty enough to actually achieve this.

“Okay.” You sound and feel mollified. “I'll behave.”

He smiles. “Good,” he says cheerfully. “Just stay like that, then. I’ll take care of you.”

You listen to him, mostly because you're incredibly excited about getting pussy inspections and you'll be devastated if it doesn't happen. And you don't expect it to be a big deal, anyway. While your sex drive has been a constant source of grief for you throughout your life, you don't really have problems controlling any specific impulses in bed when you truly need to. You’re used to giving your customers whatever they want and, if you're lucky, getting off from it. You figure this will be the same.

You find out very quickly that it isn't.

You need to stay still. You can’t sink down on him. Two easy orders that are extraordinarily difficult when Suo is the one beneath you. You have to actively stop your hips from moving when you feel the silky head of his cock press into your folds, which are still dripping with your slick. Suo’s breath hitches when he runs the tip along your opening, drawing wet noises every time his cock head catches on your needy hole, smearing his precum all over it. All you want is to push back on him and let your pussy swallow his cock. You’re aching for it, and you know he is too. If you sank down on him now, he'd lose control and fuck you raw until he was cumming inside you. And then he'd probably keep going after that, not letting you move until you were stuffed full and dripping with his spend. Both of you know it.

But you don't do that. You're good for him. You sigh, just trying to enjoy the feeling of his length rubbing against you. How he's twitching and throbbing against you, how he wants as equally much to be inside you—but pulls back every time. Your mind goes a little fuzzy with the drawn out, low hum of pleasure, and you close your eyes.

Then he starts pushing into you.

“H-Hayato?” You whimper at the intrusion, at being made to take something so thick without warning. “I thought you weren't gonna—”

“I'm not,” he says. His breathing is heavier, his words strained, but his voice is still commanding when he says, “Don’t move.”

Suo doesn't give you the whole thing, just the tip. It is much harder to control yourself like this—when you can feel yourself getting stretched by the head of his cock, already so fat and heavy, but you don't get filled up by it. It makes you aware of how empty you are, and how wet you're getting. You bury your face into his neck and make a noise that's both tearful and pathetic.

It's not acting when you whine, in a watery, miserable way, “Please, Hayato. I need your cum in me.”

It's probably the crying that gets him. He inhales sharply, thrusting maybe a little deeper than intended. You groan at the extra inch of cock, eyes rolling back, and can't help the way your pussy tightens and drips, trying to suck him in.

“Fuck,” he says, and then he pulls out.

He lays you flat on your back. Before you can get so much as a word out, he's between your legs and pressing his cock against your entrance. For possibly the happiest moment of your life, you think Suo is going to fuck you—but instead he starts pushing the slick head of his cock right against your neglected clit.

You aren't going to complain.

You whimper as he starts rubbing against your sex, leaving his prespend all over your swollen bud. It makes you squirm, grinding yourself against it, and you press your legs together to get some more pressure for the both of you. Soon his cock is sliding between your thighs, getting them all sticky with his prespend. You can feel the length of him hot and slick against your folds, heavy and throbbing.

You've never cum like this before. It was never enough stimulation when your customers made you do this, which nearly all of them have. But the pressure on your clit and on your folds is shockingly intense as the two of you move, enough to make you whimper as a familiar tension builds. It's not as overwhelming as when his fingers were inside you, but it's enough for you to start panting at the tension in your belly. You can hear Suo’s breath picking up as you start to whine, and he watches you, almost predatorial, as another orgasm crashes over you. You moan his name as you cum, squeezing a few more tears out of your eyes.

He stares at your flustered, wet face as he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance again, fisting himself as it flutters and drips in the aftershock of your orgasm. Suo’s been hard for so long, for the whole time he's teased and bullied you—you aren't surprised at how close he already is. Especially not when you start talking about how much you need his cum in you, how empty your pussy feels without it, how badly you want your husband to fill you up. All with your mascara smeared and your lip trembling, a sight that makes him throb.

Suo groans as he finally cums. You can feel his cock twitching, warmth spurting out onto your folds, and then into your pussy as he thrusts shallowly into you. You pull him down needily as he fills you, and he indulges you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

When he pulls out, you can feel his cum drip out of you, all the way down to the couch. You make a happy noise at the mess he's made of your hole, giving him a lovestruck, dreamy expression.

“You should do that every night after you're done checking my pussy,” you sigh.

Suo’s mouth curls, and breathes out a kind of laugh. He holds your face, and one of his tassels brush against the shell of your ear as he presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll do it if you're good for me.”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour until our wedding night,” you promise, voice affectionate.

Suo gives you a fond look. His expression is so sentimental. You think he’s going to say something sweet.

“Alright,” he replies. “Then be good for me and keep the rest of that inside you, okay? Let’s not make a mess of these floors. I don't want to get blacklisted from this club.”

You open and close your mouth, completely speechless.

“You're fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, and he laughs and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. He doesn't stop until you're placated and horny again.

Suo takes his sweet time pushing his cum into you as deeply as possible, saying that it's to make sure you don't lose any of it, but really so he can draw another orgasm out of you. Knowing that the mamasan might take pity on you and think that you were coerced into degrading sexual acts by a terrifying yakuza client, he makes sure to order a drink beforehand, calling up a server. (I don't want to be a bad patron, he hums as he looks at the tablet, and I said I'd get you to the number 1 ranking, right?) It subsequently looks, sounds, and is completely consensual when you're found pulling at Suo’s hair, keening as he fingers his cum into you while sucking on your clit.

This leaves you with no hope of continued employment on all of Keisei Street.

To add insult to injury, you do make a mess of the floors, despite Suo’s conscientious efforts to avoid this—though it's not as bad as the one you left on the couch. You also can't find your thong anywhere, which you guess is something else that the mamasan won’t appreciate when she finds it. Still, for the rest of the night, everyone shows Suo nothing but the utmost respect and highest quality customer service. They even ask how he found your company and if he has any feedback for you. He praises your conversational skills, karaoke abilities, and how capable you were in catering to his many needs. He also lets them know that you'll be resigning.

Hanzo and Shuuhei are waiting to pick you up, bringing the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. This time, Suo doesn't use it to interrogate you; he instead uses it to kiss you and tease you and discuss wedding plans. If it'll be indoors or outdoors. If you'll have a big reception or a small one. If it'll be a traditional wedding, or if you’ll want a Chinese one like the one your master would have maybe liked to see. You settle on having a Shinto ceremony and a Chinese-style reception. Having been raised Chinese, whenever Suo imagined marrying during his teenage years, you were always in a red qipao. His master even once told him that if he managed to win your heart, he'd organise a tea ceremony and act in the role of Suo’s father.

After disclosing these facts (the first of which makes your heart weak, and the second of which leaves it aching), he asks about any long-standing things you've always wanted to do with him as a couple. If you had any silly or indulgent daydreams about your future with him, and what they were like.

“I don't know,” you admit. “I guess after you applied to teacher’s college, I liked the idea of marrying you, and doing all the domestic things you talked about. Though you were just joking at the time.”

You don't really expect him to remember much about this particular line of teasing. Sure, the man is currently obsessed with marrying you, and maybe he daydreamed about it a little bit when he was younger—but he mostly treated the idea as a funny joke when he was a teenager. All of the teasing has probably blurred together for him over the years. Certainly, it has for you.

But you've never been able to forget this particular memory. It’s one of those small, inconsequential moments that you find yourself incapable of letting go to this day. You loved hearing him talk about getting married, even though it hurt immensely that it was probably just teasing. You loved it because you wanted it. You wanted Suo to teach people because you knew he was good at it and it would make him genuinely happy. You wanted to stop working in the red light district and make a nice and safe home for Suo, just as he'd made a nice and safe home for you. And you wanted to marry him and kiss him and have sex with him and only him for the rest of your life.

You wanted it so badly, it still makes you heart ache to think about it.

He was definitely just teasing you, though. Suo was a sane person at the time, and sane people do not actually plan a marriage and life with someone before dating them or even fucking them. Most importantly, a sane person wouldn't hold onto such a silly joke for so long. Oh, you expect him to say, laughing. You're right, I had nearly forgotten.

But all he does is give you a smile. It's one of his strange, enigmatic ones.

“No, I was quite serious about it,” Suo says, looking right at you.

You stare at him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He's being so straightforward, so earnest. Your typical reaction would be to feel flustered, sentimental—but something about his expression and tone bothers you. But before you can suss out what it is, he continues, and the moment passes.

“Was there anything else you ever wanted to do?” he asks smoothly.

You're startled, off-guard. “Oh, um… not really. I never let myself think too much about it.”

“Come on,” he prods. “There must be something.”

“No, I really didn't think of any ideas on my own. Although…”

Your face gets hot as you trail off. Suo senses weakness, and goes in for the kill.

“Although?”

“It's too embarrassing,” you admit, looking away, and Suo looks a little too interested as he pesters you for an answer.

“Come on, it's fine.” His mouth curls in a way that tells you it's not fine. “I promise I won't judge you. I just want to know what I can do to make you happy as your husband.”

You give him an uncertain look, and say your only concrete fantasy about him so quickly and quietly that he misses it.

“Pardon?” he asks.

“...romantic, vanilla sex.”

Suo blinks. “What?”

Your face burns with humiliation.

“I used to think about having romantic, vanilla sex with you. When I was a teenager. A lot.” Said as if you weren't just thinking about it two months ago in a love hotel, and still don't want it now. You wouldn't even bring it up if you didn't think it was necessary. But unfortunately, you're professionally skilled at perceiving people’s sexual interests, and you've perceived that Suo is sexually a freak. He was definitely going easy on you tonight, and is probably actively planning to get worse. You'll never have normal sex with him unless you explicitly state a desire for it.

Suo gives you a surprised look. “That's… a very mundane fantasy.”

“It wouldn't have been mundane to me,” you reply, somewhat defensively. “I used to think about it when I slept with my customers, who weren't very romantic. Or vanilla. So I didn’t really have a good reference point or anything for that kind of sex, but sometimes I still thought about doing it with you after they had left.”

You look away after saying this, wondering why you disclosed all of that. It certainly wasn't necessary for your dream of someday taking Suo’s cock without being psychosexually tortured first. Now you feel like you need to hide. You even think about excuses for stopping the car, and ponder again how difficult it would be to live without proof of identity, if you chose to run away.

But Suo doesn't let you run. He pulls you close to him, wrapping you up in his warmth.

“It's okay,” he says gently, in a voice that reminds you of how he was in his old Furin days. “You'll be okay. I'll make sure of it.” It confuses you deeply, and you turn to ask him what the fuck he's going on about.

You don't even realise you're crying until he starts kissing away your tears.

You can’t understand why you’re weeping. Maybe something strange and hormonal happened while you were having sex, like Suo made you orgasm too hard and all the oxytocin is making you depressed now. Though you think that hormone is supposed to make you happy. You're not sure. You never finished school, so you wouldn't know.

Whatever the reason, you hastily wipe away your tears. A hand rubs at your back, and you let yourself press your face into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you say quickly.

“Don't apologise. You don't have anything to be sorry for.”

You hesitate as you breathe against the silk threads of his shirt, thinking about how many of his shirts you've ruined with your tears. At least three changshan and one Versace summer piece, by your count. It’s not like he hurts over the money these days, but guilt tugs at your heart.

“I don't know about that,” you mumble into his shoulder. And it takes a while to work yourself up to saying it, but eventually you whisper, with full honesty, “I'm sorry for always worrying you.”

“I know,” Suo says. He sounds sincere when he says, “I’m sorry too.”

“I’ll try to be better from now on.”

“You will be. And even if you aren’t, that's fine.”

For some reason, that makes your heart squeeze.

You melt against Suo after that, listening to the steady roll of tires and passing traffic outside. There's a gentle pitter patter of rain against the car roof, tinny and rhythmic, that gradually crescendos into a proper storm. The windshield wipers squeak against the glass. All of the noise is lulling you into a kind of peace, or maybe you're just feeling that way because Suo is holding you.

Fatigue wears your consciousness, and you close your eyes. The hustle and bustle of the red light district grows distant, faint—partly from slipping in and out of your dreams, and partly from the quieting world outside. It's now completely silent other than the heavy rainfall. You think they must be taking the road through Makochi. Suo asks for it whenever he wants you to sleep well.

He probably thinks you're asleep when he says, “I’m sorry for being how I am now.”

You almost stop breathing. Almost.

“You didn't fall in love with me when I was like this, so you must not like it very much,” he continues. “I know that Master wouldn't like me much either, if he were alive. He always said that you should support your loved ones until they can stand on their own two feet. But lately, I feel like all I've been doing is breaking yours.”

He sighs. The sky groans with distant thunder.

“Sakura knows who I really am, you know,” he says quietly. “I think he's worried about what'll happen to you if we get married. Though he’s been worried about you for a while.” Suo almost sounds endeared when he adds, “Did you know he only texts me now to ask if you're okay? He really does love you.”

He’s more sombre when he continues, “But Nirei is just afraid of me. That’s why he’s never around. He’s going to call you in a week and tell you not to go through with the wedding. He’ll probably tell you to leave me too. It’s good advice.”

It's hard to keep your breathing slow, with how badly your heart hurts.

“I’ve tried to go back to how I was, to the kind of person that Master was trying to raise,” Suo confesses. “But I don't think I can get better.”

But even if you can't, you want to tell him, that’s fine. You wish you could hold him how he's always held you.

“It doesn't usually upset me nowadays,” he admits after some time, “how I am now. But to be honest, talking about our school days did make me feel bitter, because I can't give you the things I know you wanted.”

He kisses the top of your head. Gently, so as not to wake you from your dream.

“I'm sorry I never became a teacher. I'm sorry I joined the yakuza. I'm sorry I can't give you a normal life. And I'm sorry I can’t have an honest conversation with you.”

Silence. You feel his chest stop briefly, his breathing deepen.

“Maybe someday, I'll get better enough to say these things to you while you're awake. Maybe someday, I'll even get better enough to let you leave. It would be best for you.”

His voice gets even softer. Tender.

“But for now, I don't know how to let you go.”

You feel a hand shifting away, the soft noise of leather against skin. Then both arms around you again, even warmer, even tighter. He’s leaning his head against yours. You think Suo is falling asleep.

Allowing yourself a single, quick glance at the car, you peer at your reflections in the rearview mirror. You see sheets of rain sliding against the back window, his dark lashes pressed to his skin, and all the scar tissue he likes to keep hidden away.

And you can see, very clearly, tears beneath his missing eye.

END 'TOKYO VICE'

hi everyone thanks for reading this chapter!!!! i hope it didn't disappoint after all the shitposting i did about it this week lol

can i just say. this was straight up the weirdest sex scene I've ever written HASLKFJSDF and the mood whiplash throughout this was probably the craziest i've ever written within a single piece. unfortunately, this reader copes with her trauma via humour and sex and it really shows rip. i hope it wasn't too offputting!

thank you to everyone who left a comment on part 1!! please do let me know if you enjoyed part 2 as well. <333

tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics and @stuckindreamland06!

#srb #THANK YOUUUU 🥺♥️

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