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coffee-and-geto · 11 months ago

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HOW CAN I LOVE WHEN I’M AFRAID TO FALL? - SATORU GOJO

“I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you, as soon as you covered me from my father, as soon as I heard your laugh, saw the amazing mother you are, and realized I never wanted you to leave this house.”

pairing: CEO! satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: to your almost regret, your life as a single mother seems to be weighing more and more heavily on your worn-out shoulders. so what could be better than pretending to be the CEO’s girlfriend of the business you work for, knowing that his father is the general manager?

warnings: +18 only, smut, nsfw, her daughter is called hinata, fake dating/single mom tropes, angst, mother insecurities, fluff, reader’s ex is a jerk, unprotected sex, sex (p in v), overstimulation, pussy drunk (satoru), nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), oral (m), this fic is (really slightly) inspired from the french book ‘un printemps pour te succomber’ by morgane moncomble, including therefore small similar dialogues.

wc: 10,154

“Can I taste the frosting?”

Your lips curve into a smile. “Of course, angel.” You crouch down and hand the spatula coated in pastel pink frosting to your five-year-old daughter. Her little fist wraps around the handle, and joy spreads across her angelic face like rays of sunshine. “So? How is it?”

“It’s so good!” she exclaims, and you chuckle.

“I’m glad you like it.” You glance at the clock in your kitchen. “I’ll put the frosting in the fridge. While the cake bakes, go back to playing, and I’ll call you to help decorate the cake as soon as it’s ready, okay?”

Hinata nods, blowing you a kiss that you return after a moment of surprised hesitation, your lips forming an “O”. Amid delighted laughter, she skips away, and you turn back to face the bowl of cake batter.

Why does it have to be so hard?

Every birthday, you hold back tears because who said ‘single mom’ doesn’t rhyme with ‘baking your own birthday cake so your daughter can sing to you’? But what hurts more — this, or seeing your flesh and blood envy her female friends who have their dads in their arms and their mothers content with their families?

The silence of loneliness can sometimes be louder than company.

“Happy birthday! Happy birthday, mama!” your daughter sings, clapping her hands as you blow out your candles in the warm, yet dimly lit, living room. “Come on, come on! Let’s eat the cake!”

With a knife, you cut two slices, one for each of you, and it only takes a few more minutes for both your mouths to be covered in pink frosting, with laughter echoing in the room. The heartache, briefly chased away by the short-lived joy, returns later that night when your daughter snuggles up in your arms in your double bed, which seems to be missing something.

Fuck, being a single mom is tough, you think as you wipe away the tears flooding your cheeks with the back of your hand. No one to support you, all the responsibilities fall on your shoulders, and now doubts about your daughter start invading your mind: “What if she blames you later for not having a father?”, “What if she thinks you’re a bad mom?”, “Do her friends at school say anything about you being the only unmarried woman among all the parents in her class?”

These thoughts have never stopped, not even during your pregnancy, whether about the weight gained or lost, or the changes in your body. Are these regrets? But how could you regret bringing such an angel into the world? Maybe it’s more about the lousy partner who left you the second he found out you were pregnant.

Probably the second option.

“WHERE IS MY SON?!”

A male voice thunders across the entire floor of the company. You jump, turning to one of your colleagues over the small partition set up for employee privacy. “Who’s yelling like that?” you whisper, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I heard it’s the new general manager…”

Your frown deepens. “Is that why they handed me the summary of our sales figures to drop off at the office upstairs?” To prove your point, you lift the massive stack of documents.

Your colleague presses his lips together, his eyes widening in a way that already gives you the answer. “Oh God, you’re the one in charge of that? Good luck. It’s to be delivered to the new director.”

A sigh escapes your lips.

For a start to the workweek, it seems you’re about to face the stormy mood of the new boss, who apparently brought his kid to the office. What a perfect beginning.

As usual, the upper floor is deserted, as it’s generally reserved for executives with direct ties to the company’s CEO. Few people take the elevator to reach the top floor of the skyscraper. Arriving in the lonely hallway, it should be a simple task to knock on the boss’s office door, drop off the elephant-weight stack of documents, and leave.

So why does the sound of running footsteps seem to be getting closer and closer behind you?

In a flash, a man dressed in a navy blue suit rushes past you, bumping your shoulder. He nearly topples the threatening stack of papers, but you manage, at the last second, to catch everything before you lose your balance. The young man opens the door to the women’s restroom, and before entering, he glances over his shoulder.

Never in your life have eyes made such an impression on you.

Two cerulean blue orbs lock onto yours with a mischievous aura. A smirk tugs at the corner of his thin, pink lips. From his pale skin to his albino hair, the man exudes charm and beauty from every pore. The sheer allure of his appearance leaves your brain too stunned to react, numbing it. How can someone be this handsome?

“SATORU!”

His serene and amused expression vanishes instantly, and you jump in response. Replaced by an exaggerated look of fear, he addresses you, “Cover for me. If he asks you, you never saw me!” And his tall, slender body disappears into the women’s restroom.

More footsteps echo down the hallway, this time from a second man, just as tall and physically similar to the young man you just encountered — though slightly older, with wrinkles lining his face and a mix of albino hair and silver from age. You have no time to react except to straighten up against the wall.

His blue eyes, more gray and stern, settle on you as he approaches. “Did you see a man? A tall idiot running around and flirting with any woman he sees,” he grumbles the last part, his eyes thoughtfully fixed on the light carpet.

You shake your head robotically. “No… I—”

“Never mind,” he cuts you off with a dismissive wave of his hand — as if your answer is irrelevant and he’s heard it at least twenty times before. He sighs and scratches at the stubble on his chin. “Who are you, anyway?”

“An employee, sir.” You gesture to the stack of documents that’s beginning to make its weight known in your arms. “I was asked to drop this off in your office.” The tone of your voice almost pleads with him to let you in and relieve you of the annoying burden.

“The report? Ah yes, of course.” You sigh in relief as he unlocks the door with his keys. “I suppose you’re wondering who I am?”

“The new general manager, I guess?” you reply, raising an eyebrow. You drop the heavy stack onto the desk and exhale deeply. “We heard you on every floor.” You can’t help but chuckle at your own remark, offering the director an apologetic smile.

He rolls his eyes, but a light chuckle still rumbles in his chest. “You’re right. It’s because of my son.”

His son?

You repeat the word aloud, confused, and he clarifies. “My son is the new CEO of this company, and I almost regret my decision to give him that position.” He shakes his head, his gaze drifting toward the blue sky visible through the large window, then refocuses on you. “I apologize in advance. He’s going to be a real handful.”

“I understand. I think we’ll manage to put up with him,” you add with a smile.

In the end, this new boss doesn’t seem as strict as your colleagues have been saying, and his story about his son is more amusing than anything. You cough slightly into your elbow and clear your throat, murmuring an apology.

“Are you sick?” the director inquires.

“A little,” you admit reluctantly, feeling embarrassed as you adjust the mask on your face. “Sorry. I couldn’t stay home.”

“No problem.” He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. “Well, I think I have some work to do. See you later, I suppose.”

You don’t hesitate to leave the boss’s office and quietly step into the women’s restroom. “Is… someone here?” you murmur in a hoarse voice.

The creaking of a door answers you, and the general manager’s son emerges from a stall, looking cautious. He looks like a little boy checking to see if his hiding spot in a game of hide-and-seek has been discovered, which makes you stifle a discreet giggle. He turns to you and offers an apologetic smile. “Sorry about earlier. I didn’t hurt you, did I, sweetheart?”

The nickname catches you off guard, and warmth floods your face. “N-No, I’m fine. You’re the new CEO, right?”

“Satoru Gojo, at your service, pretty girl.” He winks, a reminder that he’s quite the flirt.

You introduce yourself in return, running out of things to say, your hands nervously clasped by your sides.

“Pretty name,” Satoru murmurs. He closes the stall door behind him and exhales, shaking his head. “Phew! That was a close one! Thanks again!” He strides toward the exit with one last charming smile in your direction, leaving the restroom and a lingering scent of cologne behind him.

“Why aren’t you answering?”

“Damn it, you’re so annoying with this!”

“There’s no point in moving every few months, I’m going to find you.”

“For fuck’s sake, answer my messages! I told you I need you! I swear I’ll help you raise Hinata this time.”

“I made a mistake, so let me fix it by answering my fucking messages! I know you’re reading them!”

You swallow hard, your throat tight, and press the “block this contact” button on your phone. It’s the fourth time this month. He’s been harassing you with messages and finding a way to contact you no matter how many numbers he uses, even when you change yours. The same goes for your address, as apparently changing apartments is no longer enough to escape him.

You know he’s in debt — one of the many consequences of his excessive gambling, even when you were still in a relationship with him. Smoking, drinking, and of course, downing tobacco like it was water, only to charm you while hiding this lifestyle to get you into his bed, then fleeing the moment you were pregnant.

So now that he needs a woman and a child to escape his debts, he’s reaching out to you — the woman he abandoned after promising marriage (without a ring, of course), got pregnant, and deserted, only to come crawling back to you.

“Mama? You okay?”

Your daughter’s concerned little voice pulls you out of your daze. The cartoons playing on the TV haven’t had the desired effect — they’re not distracting her from the anxiety that’s been gnawing at you day by day. Maybe today, it’s showing enough for people to notice?

“I’m fine, angel,” you reassure her with a perfect smile — perfectly fake, because that’s something you’ve learned to anchor over time.

You pat the empty spot on the couch next to you, and she nestles under your arm. “If you say so…” Hina murmurs, clutching her worn-out bunny plush.

The state of the plush catches your attention, and a pang of guilt stabs at your heart. What kind of mother lets her daughter carry around a stuffed toy in such poor condition? Maybe you are a bad mother? Otherwise, why would Hina deserve such a pitiful situation? She deserves so much better than you…

“Little angel?” you murmur as she wraps her tiny arms around your waist and nuzzles into your belly. “Are you okay?”

“I love you.”

And the three little words sound… unreal.

Hot tears blur your vision, and it takes every bit of strength you have to whisper back, “I love you too, Hina.”

3:00 PM.

In less than an hour, you’ll need to pick up Hinata from school.

Normally, you avoid lingering at work. You go through your usual routine as an employee, nothing special or fun — a hello, goodbye, see you tomorrow to colleagues without worrying about what’s happening around you or the gossip, even when it involves coworkers getting together.

The only change: now it’s you who gets stuck with the task of delivering all the documents to the general manager. According to one of your peers, he doesn’t seem to be strict or threatening when it comes to you. So this time, you’re tasked with delivering an additional file about the production of a new product on the market to both the CEO and the general manager. For the second time, you head up to the highest floors of the company headquarters to knock on the CEO’s door — it’s the closest. But no one answers.

No surprise, since the director’s son spends his time running through the hallways to avoid his father and shirk his responsibilities, right?

You’re about to knock on the Director’s door, but a familiar gust of wind brushes your face with a soft, fresh breeze. Satoru Gojo appears beside you with a charming smile and glances at what you’re holding.

“H-Hello, sweetheart. How are… you?” he greets, slightly out of breath from yet another chase with his father.

“I’m fine. Here.” You hand him one of the folders, and he takes it, pretending to read it. “The next meeting—” But he grabs the second document and, before you can react, opens the door to his office and casually tosses them inside before shutting the door.

“SATORU GOJO! KEEP IT UP, AND I’LL DISOWN YOU!” The boss’s voice echoes through the entire floor as he appears from behind the emergency exit door. “YOU!” He points a finger at you, standing right next to him. “Still bothering our employees?” He grumbles, his jaw clenched so tightly that you can hear his teeth grinding.

“That’s not true, father!” Satoru protests, feigning outrage. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. “You’re chasing me while I’m just saying hello to my girlfriend?”

You freeze, turning your head toward him, as lost as the Director, who squints his eyes. “Your girlfriend? Since when—”

“I was going to tell you,” Satoru continues, shaking his head, his fingers squeezing your waist while you remain paralyzed. “Here’s my new girlfriend.”

“Are you lying to me and dragging some poor woman into your childish games?”

In the back of your mind, you note that he doesn’t seem to recognize you despite the last time you saw each other.

“What? I’m telling the truth! Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” And he leans in to plant an affectionate kiss on your cheek.

Your heart almost stops for a second. But you quickly snap back to reality under the insistent embrace of his arm and his hand around you. “Y-Yes…”

What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?

“Well, if you’ll excuse us, father, my darling and I are in a hurry.” He leads you away before you have time to protest and heads toward the elevator with you.

Once the doors close, Satoru takes your hands in his and leans toward you. “I can explain everything.”

If his cerulean blue eyes hadn’t been so persuasive, you would have exploded right there and then to yell at him.

You, the girlfriend of the CEO of the company you work for? Did this really have to happen to you? You can already picture your termination letter under your nose as you exit the back of the building. A glance at your watch tells you that if you don’t hurry, you’ll be late to pick up your daughter.

“You’re in a rush?”

“I have to pick up my daughter before I’m late,” you reply curtly, “and look at the mess I’m in now!”

“I know, I know…” Satoru rubs the back of his head, right where his immaculate undercut is. “Maybe I can explain on the way? Where’s your car?” He looks around the parking lot, his eyes searching.

The question — however mundane — makes you blush with embarrassment. “I… take public transportation…” you mumble, pouting.

He furrows his brow, as if you just admitted to showering with maggot-infested soap. “Excuse me? I don’t take public transportation.”

“Well, I do.” A hint of defiance returns to protect your pride.

How could he possibly understand when he lives like a rich man, without worrying about grocery shopping, paying bills, and of course, taking public transportation during the week to avoid wasting gas because it costs an arm and a leg! But for him, that must not be part of his daily life, especially since he’s one of society’s privileged.

“Let’s take my car then.” He says this without waiting for you, as you remain standing there. He pulls out his keys and opens the passenger door. “What are you waiting for?”

“But— I— Are you out of your mind?” you burst out. “I’m not getting in that car! I’m supposed to pick up my daughter, and now I’m pretending to be your girlfriend! In front of your father!” You emphasize your words with wild, energetic gestures.

He bursts out laughing.

Cute.

“No chance. We’re going to pick up your daughter and clear this all up. And please, stop refusing to get into a car that’s way better than those buses that reek of sweat.” He rolls his eyes, and you note how much he resembles his father when he does that.

“I have an errand to run anyway,” you persist.

“And that doesn’t change the fact that I want you to get in this car,” Satoru chuckles.

Taking a closer look, the car is as luxurious as the ones you dream about at night — yours, by comparison, looks like a junk heap ready for the scrapyard. Reluctantly, you climb in, Satoru’s chivalrous demeanor not going unnoticed as he snickers at your surrender. He quickly gets in, asks for the address of the school, and sets off after starting his car, which smells just as good as he does. You feel like a piece of trash in the middle of this little universe he inhabits.

“My father bugs me every day to find a woman,” Satoru murmurs at first, one hand resting on his thigh, clad in business suit trousers, his eyes fixed on the road over his round sunglasses. “That’s one of the reasons I avoid him.”

“And why involve me?” you snap back.

“Well, to be honest, it was partly impulsive. I met you the other day, and then, in the moment, I just wanted my father to leave me alone.” He has a half-smile that makes you swallow hard, and he gives you a knowing look before returning to a serious expression. “I’m sorry for dragging you into all this.” A pause. “I just hope you’re not married, otherwise—”

“No, I— No.” You close your eyes for a moment, the innocent question burning like a fiery arrow piercing your already aching heart. Did you just hear a sigh of relief? “And your father doesn’t seem to have recognized me since the other day,” you can’t help but point out.

“The mask.” Satoru grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. “He didn’t recognize you because of that. He’s always had a bad memory and poor eyesight.”

“But you recognized me.” You focus on the road’s scenery to avoid confronting his mesmerizing eyes. “I’m not going to wear my mask forever, you know? And I don’t want to keep pretending—”

“Please,” Satoru whispers, placing a hand on yours, sending a shiver down your spine. “Just until he and my family get off my back.”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“How much do you want?” He asks immediately, as if he just remembered something.

“What? No! I don’t want your money!” you protest as quickly as he did. “No, I…” And you groan, sinking into your seat.

Holy shit!

“What have I gotten myself into, seriously…” you moan, crossing your arms over your chest, a grimace distorting your features.

“Please. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’ll do everything to make it just a minor detail… I’m only asking you to change your name in front of my father when you pass as my girlfriend, wear a mask, and change your hairstyle at work — if we want to avoid suspicion. He won’t suspect a thing, I swear.” He pulls into the school parking lot and parks quietly.

Thoughts bombard your already exhausted mind, and you massage your temples. Why does this have to happen to you and no one else?

Satoru murmurs your name, making you lift your head. “It will only be a few family events, just for appearances, nothing more. I won’t bother you any further.”

You sigh, and the sound of the bell signaling the end of classes rings out. “I need to think about it. Thanks for the ride. Have a nice—”

“Come back. I’ll take you home,” Satoru suggests, pressing the button to unlock your door.

What’s the point of refusing?

You nod, finally getting out of the car to go pick up your daughter, who runs toward you as soon as you reach the gate.

"Mama!" She jumps into your arms.

You return her embrace, heading towards Satoru’s car. “Did you have a good day?”

“So much fun! I made you a drawing!” She’s practically bouncing as you reach the car.

Noticing your daughter’s confused look, you clear your throat. “Uh… A-A friend of mine is giving us a ride home, okay?” She blinks innocently and waits for you to open the car door, which is almost as tall as she is. Hinata gets in as you do, and you cough slightly. “This is Gojo. My friend.”

“Hello, princess.” Satoru turns his head over his shoulder with a big smile. “What’s your name?”

“Hinata,” she replies, her legs gently swinging.

“Very pretty.”

“Thank you.” She blushes and tries to hide a smile.

On the way, you try to fill the awkward silences with small talk until you arrive at the supermarket.

You had promised to buy Hinata a new stuffed animal since last night after spending hours worrying that you weren’t being a good mother. Again.

“That one!” Hinata almost runs towards a bunny plushie that’s twice the size of her head. She grabs it with her little arms and gives it a hug.

Satoru and you reach the aisle, and out of habit, you check the price under the albino’s watchful eye. Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when you see the amount, and you place a trembling hand on Hina’s shoulder. “Angel, I think it’s—”

“…Perfect,” Satoru finishes, his large hands taking the plushie from your daughter’s tight embrace to check the price tag with its shocking number. “Do you like it, little one?” he asks, looking down at her.

Hina nods energetically. “Yeah!”

“Then we’ll take it.” Satoru hands the plushie back to her and turns towards the checkout lane, already reaching into one of his pockets for what looks like… a wallet.

You react immediately, your hands finding their way around his arm. He doesn’t push you away at all and even smiles at the contact. “Gojo… No.”

“It’s Satoru to you, sweetheart,” he whispers gently. “And why not? It’s just a stuffed animal,” he scoffs. He takes Hinata’s hand so she can place the plushie on the conveyor belt.

“No, it’s not nothing to me,” you persist through clenched teeth, embarrassed that the cashier might be paying attention to your conversation.

Satoru shrugs. The cashier scans the plushie, and he uses contactless payment to pay for it. With your hands still around his arm, he places one of his on top, an intimate closeness.

“I could get used to this,” he murmurs near your ear, making you turn beet red. But he can’t continue as your daughter clings to Satoru’s leg like a koala, showering him with a thousand thank-yous for the gift. “You’re welcome, little one.” His hand gently ruffles her hair. He grins, now turning back to you. “It’s on me. You don’t owe me anything.”

Your discreet protests, so Hinata doesn’t suspect anything, come to an end when he drops both of you off in front of your home. Hinata commented that Satoru’s car looked like the one from the movie Barbie: Princess Charm School she had seen recently. He unlocks the doors as you get out of the car. Satoru’s hand catches yours, slipping a piece of cardstock into it. His contact details are on it.

“Just in case,” he mouths silently.

Nevertheless, you slip the business card into your pocket and respond just before closing the door, “I accept.”

“And no funny business, okay? Never run in the hallways, if he tells you to wait, don’t move an inch, and—” You stop yourself as you notice your daughter is more interested in admiring the elegant decorations of the office hallways with wide, doe-like eyes and an adorable, slightly open mouth.

To your great misfortune, Hinata’s preschool is on strike for a while — which means almost all the teachers are absent. So how do you take care of your daughter when you can’t afford to miss work? By bringing her to your fake boyfriend’s office, of course! You quickly make your way toward Satoru’s office, Hinata following with her hand in yours. But just as you raise your fist to knock on his door, two large hands land on your shoulders, nearly scaring the life out of you.

“Hey, hey!” You whip around abruptly, a new mask on your face — just as the plan intended.

“Satoru…” you grit through your teeth. Hinata looks up at him and grins. You sigh.

“What do I owe the pleasure of all this lovely company?” Satoru asks, not taking his eyes off yours while giving Hinata a high-five.

As usual, he’s dressed in a luxurious suit — probably worth the rent of the apartment you live in — his slightly tousled albino hair and the familiar scent of cologne filling your nostrils. You catch yourself staring a little too long, and mentally kick yourself when his curious gaze turns mischievous.

He just realized you were checking him out, damn it!

“Hinata’s school is on strike. I need you to watch her for the day, if that’s not a problem, and since you seemed so insistent on returning the favor I’m doing for you…” you mumble, avoiding his gaze. “I see you’re spending your day roaming the offices rather than staying in yours…”

“No problem at all,” Satoru replies automatically, a pleased smile on his lips. “Ready to go to the CEO’s office?” He picks up Hina, who giggles and clings to him like a koala.

It’s your turn to smile in relief. “Thank you so much. I have a meeting with your father in an hour, and I’ll come get her at noon and again at the end of the day.” The sight of the two of them close together makes your heart melt — and for once, you don’t blame yourself for seeing Hinata happy to be with someone else.

5:00 PM.

You’ve sent a message to Satoru asking where he was, since knocking on his perpetually empty office seems to be pointless. The meeting with the other company members about organizing the launch of a new product was particularly painful, but one thing is certain: the general manager didn’t recognize you with your more subdued hairstyle and the mask plastered on your face.

“Come to the parking lot like last time.”

And that’s the last message from Satoru (you gave him your number during lunch).

In the empty parking lot, only Satoru’s car is present, and you cast a curious glance through the windows. The two troublemakers give you a grimace — tongues sticking out and faces scrunched up. You sigh as the passenger door opens automatically.

“Satoru, you don’t have to—”

“Hina said yes and that she wants to come to my place,” Satoru cuts in with a mocking expression.

Reluctantly, you get in, your heart pounding in your chest with all sorts of panicked thoughts. However, Satoru doesn’t seem to share your reservations and starts driving as soon as you’re settled.

“So, this means you’re coming to my place,” he says, hands on the wheel and a quick glance in the rearview mirror, “and I’m inviting you to dinner.”

“No—”

“Mom! Please, Satoru is being too nice.” Hinata complains. You glance back, and she looks at you with wounded, pleading puppy eyes, arms crossed over her chest.

You grumble, slumping back against your seat as they both cheer in victory.

“By the way, I’m stopping by your place so you can pack. We’re invited to a family wedding, and my father invited us.”

“WHAT?”

You place a box with your gift on the designated table for presents, and an arm wraps around your waist. “You look stunning,” Satoru murmurs against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, which breaks out in goosebumps.

With a flushed face, you turn your head. “Satoru…”

“What? Just because we’re pretending to be a couple and barely know each other doesn’t mean I can’t speak the truth.” He pauses. “Well, actually, we do know each other a bit, don’t we? We’ve had dinner together.” He chuckles at your half-grimacing, half-deadpan expression, pulling you closer as music fills the wedding reception hall.

You turn your head along with him toward the back of the room, where the bride’s bouquet is about to be thrown. A tight smile curves your lips — this is one thing you’ve dreamed of. Dreams have always been just that — dreams in your life, and even when love comes knocking at your door, it’s only passing through, just like your situation with Satoru.

His father didn’t notice anything, and since Satoru lives alone in a villa, it’s hard to say no when he offered for you to stay with him until he’s settled, with your own room and a staff available 24/7. He even had a tailor make a custom dress for the wedding you were both invited to. Hinata is looked after by a lovely nurse, and you’re enjoying a life you’ve always dreamed of. So why not make the most of it despite your past?

A Satoru who’s too comfortable with you isn’t so bothersome given the time you’ve spent together lately — both at the office, acting as a couple in front of certain people, and sometimes showing affection to each other to appear believable, even though they haven’t asked for kisses yet, so—

A fluffy and soft object lands right in the middle of your face and falls into your arms. You search for what seems to be a petal in your mouth and suck in your breath at what you realize it is.

The bride’s bouquet.

A gulp forces its way down your throat as the whole room applauds because… you’ve been hit in the face with the bouquet? Not to mention the lamentations of other female cousins who had jumped with all their hopes to catch it… But why you, who hadn’t asked for anything?

“Sweetheart?” Satoru mutters, his chest still pressed against your back. His tone is so sweet, nonchalant, as if you’ve been a couple for years. “My father is watching us, and I think he’s expecting me to do something.”

You swallow and nod, dreading what might happen next. Will your heart stop beating when Satoru says:

“May I kiss you?”

Never, ever, has anyone asked you that question. Not even your ex.

So, with a nervous nod, you allow him to capture your lips in a soft, languid kiss. His tender lips taste like the cotton candy children eat at the fair. They cherish yours with every movement (which you can’t help but return in kind). Each press sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

When the kiss ends, Satoru places one last kiss on the corner of your lips and clears his throat. “This is the first time I’ve wanted to marry my girlfriend.” His warm breath ignites your body.

Has your heart exploded?

If not, why can’t you breathe?

“Awww… How adorable you are with your pretty girlfriend, Satoru!”

An elderly woman approaches you both, supported by her old cane, and you note her albino hair, similar to Satoru’s.

“My dear aunt…” Satoru smiles widely without breaking away from you.

“You make a lovely couple,” Aunt Gojo continues, giving you a wise look.

“Oh, thank you.” You immediately bow and introduce yourself. Satoru’s hands squeeze your waist, and he chuckles at your manners.

“Take good care of her, you idiot,” the aunt finishes before drifting away, a tap of her cane on Satoru’s head making him sigh and rub his sore skull.

“Well, at least we look convincing, right?” he adds.

“Yes…”

Of course, he said that because he saw his aunt before you! Don’t think he said it because he meant it or—

“By the way,” Satoru takes your hand in his and leads you to the center of the dance floor, “I meant what I said before my aunt interrupted us.”

And you’re at a loss on how to interpret his playful wink.

“WOW! Hinata, you’re so rich!”

“Is this your dad’s castle?”

Hinata takes Satoru’s hand and faces her friends in his chic living room. “It’s my daddy’s!” She nods proudly and runs off with them toward the games and festivities organized for her birthday. The children run everywhere, scream, and burst into laughter throughout the room. The perfect atmosphere.

It’s exactly what you’ve always dreamed of giving Hina.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you murmur to Satoru, who, despite your comment, shakes his head joyfully.

“I’m glad she likes it,” he replies.

“I wasn’t talking about the party.”

He freezes and turns his head toward you. “Didn’t you tell me you’d never been married?” he dares to whisper, possibly afraid of hurting you.

“That’s true. My ex left after learning I was pregnant with Hinata.” You exhale the breath you’ve been holding, the weight of the secret finally lifted.

Maybe he won’t want to keep pretending to be your boyfriend after this…

“You can still tell me his name, you know, sweetheart?” Satoru moves closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist, as if it’s completely natural for him, but there’s a tension in his touch. “I can take care of him and—”

You shake your head to dispel the tiny bit of resentment that’s urging you to say yes. “It’s okay. Thanks for agreeing to pretend to be her father. I know it’s going to be a bit of a hassle for a while, but she cares a lot—”

“Nuh-uh.” He places a kiss on your cheek, then another on the side of your neck, causing you to shiver. “She’s already talked about it in my office.”

You open your eyes wide. “What…?”

“Hinata likes you much more than you think… You’ve suffered too much,” His other hand glides over your stomach, and his thumb traces affectionate circles on your waist.

“Thank you,” you breathe, leaning into his touch. And for a moment, the weight on your shoulders completely lifts. “We haven’t had the best birthdays recently, so I’m happy to see Hinata get what she wants.” Your eyes rest on your daughter, dressed as a fairy, waving her glittery wand at one of her friends dressed as a witch. “So, thank you for everything.”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. But which birthday are you talking about? Yours? When was it?”

Embarrassed, your mouth feels dry. “...A while ago.”

Satoru pulls you tightly against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you, his nose buried in your hair. “You’re such a strong woman… I can take care of you if you want. You and Hina will live like princesses, and if you want to sleep with her or have your own room, that’s no problem for me.”

“What? No, Satoru, you’re joking…”

“I’m not joking,” he insists, his gaze diving into yours — and for a second, sincerity fills his cerulean eyes.

With your mouth slightly open, you whisper, “We barely know each other, and—”

“Mama! Papa! We need to break the piñata!” Hinata rushes over to you, not paying any attention to how close you are to Satoru, and grabs each of your hands.

“Yes, angel, we’re coming,” you respond to your daughter with a weary smile, before glancing at Satoru, who is no longer looking in your direction.

Why are his ears so red?

You place the last birthday decoration box in a corner of the living room as Satoru asked and straighten up with a grimace from your aching back. “Geez…”

The upper floor of the huge house is strangely quiet, and you furrow your brows. Could they have gone downstairs?

“Hinata? Satoru?” you call out as you walk through the hallways.

The evening darkness makes it hard to see clearly, and only the faint beam of light escaping from the kitchen door guides you.

“Are you there?” you ask, gently pushing the door open, and what you find leaves you stunned.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” the two of them exclaim, holding an enormous cake between them.

A few candles illuminate the underside of their beaming faces, party hats perched on their heads. The kitchen is a huge mess, counters covered in flour and frosting, and dishes overflow from the sink, threatening to topple over.

You stand speechless as they continue to sing your birthday song. Your nostrils and eyes start to itch strangely. Why is your vision suddenly blurring? It looks like transparent waves just above your lower lashes, threatening to overflow if you dare to blink. Yet, you can’t escape it.

Not when they set the cake on the table and pull you into a hug while your nose runs, tears roll down your cheeks, and your choked-up throat is on the verge of bursting into sobs. Satoru keeps kissing your hair, never stopping for a second to comfort you with sweet and reassuring words, his hand drawing circles on your back. Hinata wipes your tears while her own roll down her little cheeks.

Seeing you cry has always been contagious for her.

The moment gives you a glimpse of what your life would be like if you had a complete family, and Satoru’s words echo in your mind. How could he be so perfect in just a few weeks of knowing him?

Once the emotion passes, a few minutes later, you eat your birthday cake with laughter and cheer, accompanied not just by the one person who now means everything to you, but by both.

“Watch out, Hina. You have applesauce on your chin,” Satoru chuckles, his hand grabbing a napkin to wipe the excess food around the child’s mouth.

The heartwarming scene makes your heart swell. You definitely don’t regret going out with Satoru and Hinata to have a meal at a chic terrace in their company. The family atmosphere finally gives you a glimpse of the life you’ve always hoped to live. Hinata growing up with a loving father and mother, and you, loved and supported by an ideal partner. Why not reconsider Satoru’s proposal, then? He’s the first man to think of you, even after your birthday had passed some time ago.

“I’m going to the restroom,” you murmur to Satoru, who nods in response, a wry smile curling his pink lips.

But why did it have to be on this day that a man finally approaches the two people you care about just as you slip away? He clearly waited from afar for you to let your guard down around your daughter so he could show up right in the middle of the table, facing a little girl — his daughter, technically — next to a man who isn’t her father.

Satoru slowly raises his head toward him, brows furrowed and wary. “Can I help you?”

Your ex says your name. “Where is she?” he mimics asking as if he didn’t know.

“What do you want with her?”

“To talk to her. I have the right. And you’re with my daughter, just so you know.” He crosses his arms over his chest, trying to appear threatening, but Satoru remains stoic, more contemptuous than anything else in the face of such a scruffy, unshaven nuisance.

“She’s not here; you can leave,” Satoru responds. And out of protective instinct, he pulls Hinata’s chair closer to him, his eyes narrowed. Satoru understands perfectly that your ex is back to claim his rights over his daughter, just as he’s been harassing you with messages about it.

“Excuse me? When my daughter is in the arms of a stranger? I could call the police immediately and we’ll sort this out very quickly,” your ex retorts sharply. He takes a step toward a lost Hinata, her big doe eyes blinking innocently between the two men. Of course, she doesn’t recognize him.

An altercation begins between the two, which naturally attracts the attention of other diners around. And you walk into the middle of the scene, frozen in shock at the sight of your ex hurling threats at Satoru.

“She’s taking my daughter, so I’m taking her back! And it’s not a bastard like you who’s going to help her regain my rights!” your ex spits with venom. His icy eyes find yours, terrified, your hands trembling and your complexion as pale as a sheet. He’s about to address you with the same angry speech, his face flushed with rage and a vein ready to burst at his temple.

Do you get déjà vu?

“‘Your daughter’?” Satoru repeats with a deadly gaze and a jaw quivering with rage. “She’s been sitting next to me for over an hour, I’ve been feeding her for over an hour, she’s been calling me by my name for over an hour, and you’re talking about ‘your daughter’? At this point, whose daughter is she... yours or mine?”

Your ex, publicly humiliated, opens his eyes wide with hatred. “You little son of—”

“Sir, we ask that you leave the terrace; you’re disturbing our customers,” a security guard declares firmly. He’s accompanied by another colleague, and when your ex protests, they grab him by the arm and escort him away amidst his shouting and the murmurs of other customers who keep staring at the three of you.

You move closer to Satoru, who immediately stands up upon seeing you — having not realized you were there — and can only offer you an apologetic look. “Let’s go,” you silently mouth (your throat too tight to dare let a sound escape, fearing it might break before you say anything), taking the hand of a silent and lost Hinata. “I’ll pay the bill and—”

“It’s already taken care of; we can go,” Satoru gently interrupts, following you to his car.

And it’s on the silent drive back that you realize something.

You’ve officially fallen in love with Satoru Gojo.

“Look, Mom, Dad and I made a drawing for you!” Hinata proudly holds up a colorful picture with three easily recognizable characters on it.

“Did you brush your teeth?” you ask as you take the drawing to admire it, just as much smiling as your daughter. She nods and then does a little twirl to show off her new pajamas that Satoru gave her earlier in the day. “It’s beautiful. You’re so talented,” you chuckle, leaning in to plant a kiss on her cheek.

Satoru appears in the doorway of Hinata’s room, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest, a perpetual playful smile curving his lips. “Ready to go to sleep?”

“Yes, and I showed our drawing to mama,” Hinata asserts, bouncing on her bed.

“Oh yeah? Did mama like it?” Satoru asks softly, his eyes now locked with yours.

“Mama loved it and thanks Daddy,” you whisper, your voice quivering with emotion that threatens to spill over.

Half an hour later, Satoru and you find yourselves in the hallway with a sleeping Hinata and her little lullaby snores.

Satoru wraps his arm around your waist as usual and buries his face in your neck. Your heart is already racing, and your breath catches when he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” The embrace is a simple hug but with unspoken words easily guessed.

“For everything.” Satoru sighs, and for a split second, you hope he’ll let you speak, but no. “I didn’t mean to make a scene and—”

“And you think I’m going to blame you for protecting us? That I wasn’t touched by what you said about Hina?” you mumble near his ear. The closeness gives you another chance to see his ears turn red. “Is Satoru shy?” you giggle, open to teasing. He hums, hiding his face so you don’t see his expression.

“I love you.”

You blink, because you must have heard wrong. “Huh?”

“Marry me.” And he’s already on his knees before you, eyes pleading. That usually confident cerulean blue is now so submissive, so close at hand… But the sudden turn of events leaves you stunned. “I want to be your husband, not just have you as my wife. I want to raise Hina with you and give you everything you need.” Not letting himself be distracted by your stunned expression, he continues, “Want my money? I’ll give it to you. My house? It will be in your name. Want my body? It belongs to you. My heart? It’s already yours.” And he starts kissing the backs of your hands desperately. “I love you, I love you… Please, marry me…”

“Satoru… You—” you stammer, backing away, your brow furrowed. Everything is a jumble in your head, both from his touching declaration but also because it’s all moving too fast for you. “You… love me?” you manage to whisper.

He crawls to you and wraps his large arms around your thighs, almost choking with desperation. “I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you, as soon as you covered me from my father, as soon as I heard your laugh, saw the amazing mother you are, and realized I never wanted you to leave this house.” He whispers your name like a divine invocation. “I’ve fallen in love with you more than just once.”

You don’t immediately respond, and that’s okay in his eyes. He doesn’t want to pressure you, just for you to know the truth and for him to be completely transparent with you.

“It’s okay if you don’t share my feelings; I just want you to know that—” But he’s cut off by your rush toward him on the floor as you press your lips to his, pulling him into the dance of your lips that one gives to the other in a long, passionate kiss. “God… I love you so much…”

“I love you too, Satoru,” you murmur against his mouth between kisses that turn into moans as he slides his warm, wet tongue between your lips to request access to your mouth.

Both of your breaths become ragged and heavy. Satoru takes the opportunity to lift you by the underside of your thighs and lead you to his bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him without breaking the contact of your swollen, desirous lips. He gently lays you on the king-size bed with silver satin and frost-blue sheets.

With a tenderness of loving slowness, Satoru breaks the kiss. “Do you want to continue?” he asks, his voice husky. You nod timidly, but he shakes his head with his mischievous smile — finally back. “Nuh-uh. Your words, sweetheart.”

“I want it, Satoru,” you reply after a sigh of exasperation so adorable in his eyes that it makes him laugh, then he places a light kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Alright… Gonna take care of my beautiful girl, the best, the most wonderful mother, and maybe future wife—” He places a finger on your lips. “Oh no, you’ll answer that later if you want, when I have something concrete for that occasion.”

You sigh in frustration because the answer is already on the tip of your tongue, but it soon turns into a moan as he kisses the side of your neck with such deliberate slowness that you really wonder if he’s going to tease you to the limit. His hands roam over your clothed chest, exploring your already hardened nipples. His lips find their way to your collarbone, marking it with love bites and hickeys that elicit muffled moans from you.

“If you knew how long I’ve dreamed of doing this…” Satoru comments with a touch of affection, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your shirt. “Exactly how I would act with my wife—”

“And your father?” And he chuckles again.

“We don’t care about him.” He casually tosses your top aside to tease your sensitive, erect nipples through the fabric with his thumbs. “Such humble underwear… Would you like me to buy you something more daring?” he purrs, pulling on a strap to snap it against your gooseflesh-covered skin.

“Would you do that?” You bring your lips to his, and he immediately responds to the kiss. You also remove his black turtleneck sweater to reveal his toned, muscular torso. An adventurous hand glides over his chest, making him groan slightly, and then stops at his lower abdomen where a vein runs lower down. You place a kiss there with a small, sly smile.

For the first time, you’re about to make love with someone.

“Hmm? Satoru? Have you ever thought of me in outfits like this?” Your nimble fingers unbutton his pants, revealing a prominent bulge in his fly.

“Sweetheart, don’t—” he hisses between his teeth from the sensation of the slight friction between his erection and your eager fingers as they pull down his pants to caress and rub his dick through the thin fabric of his boxer. “Your hands feel so good…” He breathes softly, his hands stroking your bare arms with a feather-light touch.

“Answer my question…” you purr, your nails pulling at the underwear to free his hard, twitching cock. The tip is perfectly reddened, with veins coursing along its pale length of 8 inches. Almost automatically, your mouth waters, and you waste no time kissing the slit of his already glistening tip with pre.

“Babe, don’t tease…” Satoru closes his eyes and lets your hand wrap around his length, begging to be touched. “F-fuck— Yes, yes, I’ve thought about it, about buying you the most expensive and luxurious lingerie— ah!” he almost whimpers. You take a little over 2 inches of him into your mouth to stroke the base. “But also in those maternity clothes— oh god… C-can you really blame me?” He rolls his eyes and can’t help but buck his hips toward you, his body pleading for your mouth to take care of him.

You withdraw his cock from your mouth to whisper, “So you’re a naughty boy, hmm?”

“I won’t last if you keep this up— hgnn…” he whimpers completely, his dick splitting your mouth in two as you take him all in. Your head starts to bob back and forth, and he is so close that he spills moans of your name. “G’nna cum, baby, don’t—”

You hollow your cheeks, and the next moment, he cums in your mouth, long, thick ropes of his release filling your already full mouth with his shaft. You hum under his orgasm and swallow slowly. You slide his dick out of your mouth with the same rhythm to smile at a Satoru with ears as red as his cheeks.

“F-fuck, sweetheart,” he pants, his calloused finger wiping away the mixed cord of your saliva and his cum with a swipe of his thumb.

“M-hmm… You taste so sweet…” He doesn’t let you continue and crushes his lips against yours, tasting himself on your mouth. “I want you, Satoru…”

“I’m yours, princess.” He helps you quickly remove your remaining underwear so that you’re completely naked in front of him, knees resting on the expensive mattress. He kneels at the foot of the bed, and his fingers explore your sensitive, already dripping cunt.

“So wet for me… Did I do this to you just with my cock?” His fingers spread your swollen folds to gather your fluids and rub your throbbing, needy clit.

Your nails dig into his arm as you lift your hips under the sharp pleasure. “Satoru, it feels good…” you gasp in a whimper. His forefinger and middle finger spread your wetness all around your intimacy. “Please don’t tease…”

“Not tease? Weren’t you doing it, sweetheart? What a nerve,” Satoru scoffs, tapping his finger at your entrance. “Can I?”

“Please…” You wince as you move your hips down for more. And that’s exactly what he does, immediately inserting his finger into you, cursing.

“You’re so fucking tight… and so wet,” he curses, his finger moving in and out of you with careful softness. “I can already fuck you without making you cum first.” He stops finger-fucking you and looks up at you. “Is that what you want, love?”

You nod before arching your back on the bed. Satoru climbs onto the mattress and helps you wrap your legs around him. “That’s it…” He takes his length in his hand and teases your responsive cunt with the tip to get it wetter.

“Don’t tease, Toru, I swear…” And he smirks.

“Toru?”

“Sorry, I—”

His tip presses against your tight, pulsing entrance, and he grins. “I want you to moan that nickname while I fuck you, ’kay?” He grips your hips to pull you closer to him, and with one swift movement, he slides into you, a groan escaping from behind his lips as your deliciously tight, warm, gummy walls wrap around him as if you were meant for him.

The stretch causes a slight discomfort at first, and you almost cry in relief when Satoru notices. He patiently waits for you to adjust before starting a slow, deep rhythm inside you.

You widen your lustful eyes, tears forming at their corners. “Ah! Toru… Jus’ like that…” Your eyes roll back as the tip of Satoru’s dick hits the back of your cervix, making you shiver and tighten around him. “Fuck… s’deep…”

“So fucking perfect, so fucking mine,” Satoru groans, his hips rocking into you without ceasing to swell between your gummy walls. His chest rises and falls in a breath as ragged as yours, asking for more every time you moan for him to go deeper. (He discreetly rolls his eyes and babbles incomprehensible words — completely pussy drunk.)

And that’s exactly what he does. He slams back in brutally, making you cry out his name with each thrust. “Shhh… You don’t want Hina to hear us, right? So keep quiet, baby…” He helps stifle your gasps and moans of pleasure by capturing your lips with his, alternating between fast, rough thrusts and slow, gentle ones in your hole that he fucks shamelessly.

Blood rushes to your ears, a rare sensation you haven’t truly felt the last time you were with someone. It wasn’t just about carnal pleasure between Satoru and you — but about love. The fusion of bodies loving each other and providing mutual pleasure, even as they burn for each other— physically and emotionally.

One of Satoru’s hands slowly slides to one of your breasts and teases a sensitive nipple. The arch in your back encourages him to detach his mouth from yours to capture the other nipple with his wet lips. The growl he lets out sends a wave of intense shivers through you, making your eyes roll in overstimulation.

“P-please, Toru, please, I’m already close,” you whimper against your trembling palm — a feeble attempt to contain your sweet sounds as he speeds up his hip movements in your sloppy cunt — the sound of his balls slapping your skin filling the room. Your words are punctuated by the tightening of your walls around him, swearing he could cum inside you just from hearing you beg.

“Cum on my cock, baby, cover it,” he coos, giving another kiss to your abused chest. The clenching of your jaw with your teeth dug into your lower lip forces you to groan. “Want me to fill you up?” And you nod, tears showing your imminent orgasm. “Anything for you, my beautiful girl.” His hips slam against yours, and his fingers continue to tease your breast, rubbing your puffy clit.

Satoru’s own breath becomes heavier, more labored as he keeps singing praises while you gasp, his lips pressed along the line of kisses he’s placing down your jaw. “T-Toru, Toru, cumming!” you cry out as your walls spasm around his cock while he reaches his peak and fills you with his hot, liquid release, warming your lower abdomen. You see blinding stars illuminating your vision.

He hisses almost gutturally, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips. “Oh god… S-Squeezing me while I’m cumming too…” He closes his eyes for a moment, letting his peak subside at the same rhythm as yours, his forehead damp with sweat resting against your chest.

Only pants and groans escape your lips, each one accompanied by difficult swallows and the feeling of your sweaty bodies pressed against each other.

“How was it? Did I make you feel good?” Satoru asks immediately, once his breath has returned.

The concerned questions touch your heart so deeply that you lift tearful eyes to him. “Are you going to leave, after this?”

His expression falters, and he gently withdraws from you to envelop you in his embrace. “No, baby, of course not… I won’t, I swear on my life I won’t leave you… I’m not him. I’m the one who hopes you won’t leave…” he whispers hurriedly. “Don’t think about that. I’ll always be here, for you and for Hina…”

You sniffle, your eyes red. But Satoru smiles tenderly, wiping away your hot tears. “Save your tears for later, sweetheart.”

“Why?” You clear your throat.

He sighs, the aftermath of the effort from the activity settling on him, and places a chaste kiss on your sweaty temple. “Did I tell you that my father invited us to dinner tomorrow night?”

“No,” you shake your head, “but what’s the link?”

“Don’t you understand?” he murmurs in your ear, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll understand in time.”

“I see. So it was an unexpected encounter.” Gojo’s father nods, shrugging his shoulders. “But I wonder how a woman like you can have feelings for such a fool…”

Satoru chokes on a piece of meat he’s chewing and takes a sip of his water. You stifle a giggle, with some steamed vegetables speared on your fork, just waiting for you to devour them. For a man who appears so stern and strict, Mr. Gojo is quite a wealthy man who spends his days reprimanding his son for not doing this or that.

Yet, there’s a certain paternal camaraderie between them — a father-son relationship, if you will.

“That’s not true,” Satoru retorts, his voice still gravelly. He has an adorable pout on his lips, like a child wrongly scolded.

“Yes, like you’re not a womanizer,” his father retorts, rolling his eyes.

“It was so you’d leave me alone,” with furrowed brows, he wears a mischievous smile at his father’s incredulous expression, “but sweetheart came into my life,” he continues, looking at you with a tenderness he has rarely shown.

“I hope you manage to put up with him until… well, until you decide to marry — if that’s what you choose,” his father sighs, turning his attention back to the dish in front of him.

“Satoru isn’t a bad person, you know,” you start gently. “He is certainly a thoughtless brat with grotesque immaturity,” Satoru almost spits out his water this time, and you continue with a wry smile, “but he has a great sense of attention and unmatched generosity. I believe he will be a good husband, I assure you.”

“I must admit,” he says with a wise smile, his wrinkles less pronounced.

Satoru casually says your name, “Yeah, yeah… By the way, could you pass me the salt, please?”

You freeze, while Satoru’s father suddenly looks up with an incredulous expression. “Who?”

And you smack your forehead with the palm of your hand.

The cries of a newborn fill the room as, breathless and on the verge of fainting, the midwives congratulate you, bringing your second child wrapped in clean blankets at your request.

“He’s beautiful…” Satoru murmurs as he approaches you, leaning down to the tiny baby with his albino hair and blue eyes — his exact likeness. “Thank you, my love, thank you, thank you, thank you…” His voice breaks as you raise a weak, exhausted hand toward him, but with a serene smile on your lips as you whisper how much you love each other.

He immediately wraps his fingers around yours, your wedding rings sparkling as they brush together like stars sealed for eternity.

a/n: how i love desperate men, hihi! 🤭 hope you all enjoyed this one-shot!

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobees @drippymcdrippison

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seosracha · 4 months ago

Text

⸻ SOUVENIR - park jongseong

SYNOPSIS ⸻ getting into your dream school, far away from the place you are forced to call home, in a romantic place like Paris has always been your dream. Even more dreamy is your fathers best friend, Park Jonseong, who just so happens to be a well-off lawyer in the heart of France.

PAIRING ⸻ dads best friend!jay x fem!reader

GENRE ⸻ strangers to lovers, smut, angst?, fluff

TAGS ⸻ power imbalance, age gap (jay is 38, reader is 20), daddy issues, multiple mentions of parental death, rich lawyer!jay :3, descriptions of France/Paris/New York that might be inaccurate, making out/kissing, f!ngering, slapping, dacryphilia, unprotected s3x, 4nal, plot with p0rn, lmk if I missed something!

FEATURING ⸻ enha hyung line + jungwon, aespa (-winter..), (briefly) riize's anton

WC ⸻ 17.5k

PLAYLIST ⸻ souvenir by selena gomez, paris by sabrina carpenter, je me souviens de tout by tayc, sad girl by lana del ray, dear god by tate mcrae gibson girl by ethel cain

MDNI. This is a work meant for entertainment purposes only. References to places are imaginary and not meant to deprecate their image.

There’s one thing about people who weren't born rich- they’ll tell you about it.

Inherently, not bad. The right situation sometimes requires those exact words that make every head turn. For Park Jongseong, it made a great sob story. Especially the stories of Hewes Street and his mothers tragic passing.

He was raised by his single, overbearing father who worked as a French teacher in a low income high-school. Their apartment in Brooklyn, New York was falling apart day by day. Sometimes, he’d even have to skip brushing his teeth because today might be the day their old, rusty pipes explode right in his face.

His mother passed away shortly after he was born, leaving his dad crushed. In a way, he was the only tangible evidence of her existence. Pictures, videos, letters- none of that mattered when at the end of the day, his son was the only piece of his wife that was left on this cruel earth.

At 15, Jay got a job at a restaurant near his school. That’s where he met your father.

At first he was envious of him. Not because of the stupid reasons most people his age back then fought over- but because your father wasn't working at that restaurant to survive the next month, but because he was forced to by his parents for misbehaving.

For him, it was just another month, another day. For Jay, it was all he worried about. Winter, summer, spring, autumn-all the same for someone who doesn't need to think about how they’ll heat up the apartment enough to get by and not freeze to death.

Eventually, they got close. Really close.

Your father would help him sneak out leftover food. He thought it was gross at first, and it wasn't hard to make that deduction, judging by his expressions and remarks. Jay knew it, and honestly all he could do was sigh. Soon enough, the boy understood that it wasn't really a choice for his friend, but an attempt to get himself and his dad through the day.

3 years later, Jay got a scholarship from one of the best universities in France. This was his chance, his lemon that he’d squeeze every last drop out of. And so he did, even managing to stay in touch with your dad through it all.

Life in a foreign country was fucking hard. Being treated like an idiot and broke scholar, was even fucking harder. Thank God the older people who employed him later on had a soft heart for those who didn't grow up in the land of prosperity.

He was already three months into his new life when you were born. Jay never got to meet his bestfriends little girl. Well, until today. 20 years later.

Jay remembers it so vividly- the phone call from his dearest friend, who could barely get those two words past his lips- “She’s dead”. The love of his life, the mother of his two precious children was gone. And even though Jay’s mom was no longer here, he didn't really know what they felt, because he wasn't old enough to remember his own. He didn't know what to say, how to comfort him.

That was 10 years ago. Today, it’s your father who's getting married again. Now, he’s finally back to see how everything has changed, even when it didn't seem that long ago when he left.

…

It’s never too late to find love again, but Jesus Christ, why did the woman have to be only 7 years older than you? You really hated your father for moving on because to you, your mother was still here. You could feel her, and maybe if you reached out far enough, at the perfect moment, maybe then you could touch her too.

Lee Ann was your fathers optometrist. He was her first long term patient after she finished school. They dated for 2 years before he finally asked her to marry him. She loves your father, she really does. And even if you wanted to deny it, you simply cannot.

“He forgot all about mom” your younger brother, Jungwon, sighs, twirling the wine glass that you sneakily passed him in his hand.

A weak smile forces itself upon your lips as you grab onto his hand “It’s not like that, Wonnie” he nodded his head, scoffing under his breath “As long as we’re here, he’ll never forget her. And she’d want him to be happy, you know that” you added, and he just hummed in approval, the sound forced.

“I can’t wait to move out” he says, his eyes lighting up just a bit at the mention.

It’s been a year since you moved out of your father’s house. The decision was a hard one to make- leaving your brother in a home that only reminded him of the mother he barely got to know terrified you. But when your best friends, Ningning and Sunghoon, offered to move in with them, you knew it was for the best.

“I told you you can stay with us” he shook his head at the words, a small laugh escaping his parted lips.

“Ningning hates me” you chuckled, remembering how the two would always bicker whenever your brother visited.

“She doesn't hate you. And even if, Sunghoon loves you, so who cares?” you remind him, and he smiles.

Park Sunghoon, your best friend, ex-boyfriend, your little brothers ‘older brother’- he’s been there. Jungwon absolutely adored him, and so did you.

You two met in high-school after he moved to New York in his sophomore year. He was absolutely terrified, growing up in a small village in Wisconsin where the kids weren't even comparable to the ones he encountered on his first day in New York. It didn't take him long to blend in though. Now, he is studying Fine Arts at Juilliard.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you two” a voice beams from behind you, and it doesn't take you long to figure out it’s your drunken father. You can hear Jungwon sigh, before turning around.

He stands there, a half empty champagne glass in hand. Next to him, a tall, sharp featured man stands, smiling brightly as he looks at both you and Jungwon. You don't recognize him.

“This is Jongseong, do you remember him? He flew in all the way from Paris to be here today for me! Isn’t that incredible?” your father beamed excitedly. It almost made you think it’s his friend who he was more happy about on this day, than his now wife.

The man looked at you, sticking out his hand to greet you “It’s great to finally meet you two. I’ve heard only good things” he waits for you to return the gesture, and after a moment of silence and intense staring, you finally do.

Jay thinks you really do look like your mother. He’s only seen the occasional picture that his friend would post on Facebook, but he never saw the resemblance. Well, until now.

The softness in your features, the color of your lips, the mole he swears your mother had too- he feels his chest heavy uneasily as his eyes just can't seem to leave you.

“Nice to meet you, Sir” you nod, releasing his hand. No wedding band, you note.

He smiles with a chuckle before shaking his head “Just call me Jay” he corrects and reluctantly, you mumble an ‘Alright’.

Jungwon’s gaze switches back and forth from Jay to his father “Can’t believe you're actually his friend” the jab seems to make your father laugh, and it confuses the both of you.

“That’s harsh” he chuckles awkwardly, forcing a smile on his face as he doesn't seem to understand the sudden hostility “Your dad has always been good to me”

Jungwon just nods, unamused. He doesn't seem to believe that the man that has never been a good father to him could possibly be a good friend to anyone.

“Paris, huh? I heard the women are the prettiest over there, right?” Jungwon asks, and Jay’s expression seems to change at the switch of topic.

He looks at you for a brief moment before answering the question “I guess, yes, you can say that. Haven't found one though” he smiles, and it doesn't look like he’s saddened by the fact.

Jay takes his job very seriously. Working hard is the reason he has what he does now, not taking shortcuts. It took reading between the lines and actually making a fucking name for himself to get here.

He remembers his first years at university- he’d get out of class and not for a moment would he close his book. In the crowded metro, he’d revise and revise, and even when he got off, the disgusting smell of piss marinating in the underground, he still kept studying.

“I heard you want to study abroad in Paris, hm?” his head turns as he asks you. His eyes move up your figure as he awaits your answer.

It takes you a moment to reply “Ah, yeah- yes. I applied for a scholarship last month” he nods.

Jay’s hand lands on your shoulder, slowly moving down your back “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you” he smiles. You watch his hand on your skin, only looking away as he retorts it back to his side “And if you have any questions, don't be scared to ask”

You honestly didn't care what life was like in Paris. You already knew it wasn't nice. Especially as a woman- something he’d probably never tell you anyway. Nonetheless, you mouth a ‘Thank you’ and bow appreciatively.

“I still don't get this whole ‘Paris Phenomenon’, she can't barely speaks French! You should talk her out of it, Jong” your father comments.

You’ve heard his disapproval many times- from the moment you found the school, to last month when you applied. Maybe he was embarrassing you, but you can't expect the old fashioned man to understand the simple concept of studying abroad.

“I don't think that’s a problem, eh? I’m assuming it’s an international program” he looks down at you with a comforting smile. Your father seems taken-aback by the defense on his friends’ side.

You nod in agreement, and your father seems to give up on his attempts to talk you out of it yet again.

Aunt Lu walks up to your father, eloping him in a hug, spilling applause at how beautiful the newlywed couple is and so on. Noticing Jungwon, she cups his cheeks, and with a sweet tone praises him for God knows what.

Jay once again turns to you, and leaning down whispers “Don’t mind him, yeah? I’m rooting for you” a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

Your head turns to look at him, the proximity of his face thrilling. With widened eyes and parted lips you nod, even attempting a smile. He chuckles at the reaction, moving away from you and joining your father and aunt.

The older woman beckons them to join her at another table, smiling brightly “Leoni wants to play you a piece, come!” (Leoni, your cousin who cut off your braid when you were barely 5 years old. Fucking bitch)

Before parting, Jay bids you two a quick farewell, your father leaving with him.

“If you want him, at least don’t make it so obvious” Jungwon snorted, his eyes following the two men, as he pressed his lips together to prevent himself from laughing out loud.

“That’s gross. You’re gross, Won” you shake your head.

…

Early in the morning, Sunghoon kicks your door open, toothbrush in his mouth as he throws mail on your bed “It’s from IFA. Open it” he stands in your doorway, waiting for your next action.

You look down at the envelope studying everything- your name, the address. “Maybe I should do it with my dad?”

He removes the brush from his mouth “Are you seriously gonna make me wait? Jeez, woman” he tries to be serious, but a chuckle escapes him as he walks out of the room, and into the living room.

You didn't know if Jay had already gone back or not. Your father had scheduled his honeymoon two weeks after the actual ceremony for reasons you weren't quite sure of (maybe because of his friend, you note).

You still think about the look on his face when he spoke to you, a hint of something inexplicably kind in his voice. His figure, the faint outline of his chiseled body on the light blue dress shirt. The slicked back blond hair, the pathway of veins on his arms- it’s all you can think about, really.

And it doesn’t necessarily make you feel good about yourself either. What the fuck are you doing thinking about a middle aged man in ways that are far too perverse for comfort, truly? But you can't help it- it’s almost as if it comes naturally. Especially at night, when you feel the loneliest.

You place the letter next to your bag, dialing your fathers number.

…

He holds the letter in his hand as you continue to usher him to open it “Just do it Dad, I told you already that I want you to do it!” he sighs again, and starts ripping the envelope open.

Jay turned out to be staying for the two weeks that led up to the honeymoon. Your room, turned guest bedroom was where he was staying.

Today he looked even better, if that’s even possible. Comfortable attire is definitely his look, you note.

Taking out the letter, your father reads through the content, his eyes soon landing on the bold, ‘ACCEPTED’. His expression doesn't seem to change, a whirlwind of thoughts passing through his head. He knows that you won't change your mind. He knows you’ll leave as soon as he tells you.

“So? What does it say?” Jay perks, setting down his coffee mug, and scooting closer to your father. He smiles as he looks down at the paper. It brings him back to when he was in a similar position, asking your father to open the acceptance letter for him too.

“Did I get in?” you ask, your hands going up and down your thighs as you await the answer.

“What do you think it says?” Jay tilts his head, a smirk on his lips as he teases you. You bite down on your bottom lip anxiously and shrug.

“Accepted” your father finally speaks, as he looks up from the letter. He doesn't seem as excited as you are at the words. You try to hold back, but the wide smile involuntarily appears on your face.

“It’s great news, really” Jay beams, grabbing the letter from your father to pass it to you as the man still seems to be in disbelief.

You look at it yourself and it feels unreal. A scholarship that’ll cover all three years of tuition- it almost feels like you don't deserve it.

“What; what now? Are you actually going to go?” your father speaks up, his tone surprisingly stern.

Your smile drops as you fold the paper, placing it back onto the coffee table “Of course” you manage to utter, your voice unsure.

Jay’s face twists in confusion as he looks back and forth between you and his friend. You can’t seem to understand your father’s reaction either.

“Yeah? And where will you stay? How will you pay for the living cost in a country like France? Have you thought about these things, or did you just stupidly apply out of curiosity?” he rambles, and his friends' presence doesn't seem to hold him back.

You scoff “I’ll get a job. Ever heard of that one?” he doesn't seem to enjoy your attitude, his jaw clenching in annoyance.

“You think a job at a café or restaurant will pay for that? That would be nice, wouldn't it?” he sneers.

Jay sits up straight, reaching out to grab your fathers shoulder, an attempt to calm him down “She could stay with me” he suggests.

There’s a puzzled look on your face as you take in his words. Does he actually mean it? Or is he just trying to save himself from a fight between you and your father?

“Don’t be silly, Jong” he chuckles, shaking his head in bewilderment.

He looks at you for a sign of discomfort. He can’t seem to find any “I’m serious. It’s the most I can do to repay you for what you did for me before I left”

Jay remembers that day very well. He was at the restaurant when his father called him. “They cut off our power and water. I’m so sorry, Jay” he tried to calm his dad down as the man kept repeating endless sorry’s. He was two weeks away from his paycheck- Jay couldn't do anything. He was helpless.

Your father witnessed the situation unfold, he saw how panicked Jay was, as he hurried to grab his wallet. With a bit of reluctance, he walked up to him after he ended the call “Stay at my place, Jong. Seriously”

“I don’t know” your father mutters, rubbing his temples.

“Would you like that?” Jay turns to you, letting the man next to him consider the proposition.

It’s confusing to you how with no second thought he invited you inside his home. It’s so effortless and it doesn't seem forced- it’s almost like he wants you there. Almost like he wants to take care of you, give you a good environment to study in, and have you close.

“You could stay until you find a stable job. Or longer. I don’t mind” he adds after your silence.

You take a deep breath and nod “If it’s okay with you, of course”

“I’m the one offering, sweetheart” he chuckles.

Your father leans back on the couch, exhaling slowly “I know you’ll go anyway. And It’s not like I want you to end up homeless on the streets of Paris”

____

Shortly after, Jay returned to France.

You spent most of your time with Ningning, Sunghoon and your brother during the rest of summer. You didn't know how long it’d take for you to see them again and that killed you.

You and Jay exchanged a few messages during this period- he’d confirm if the packages with your belongings had arrived or send pictures of the room he’d begun renovating for you.

You told him he didn't have to, feeling a little flustered by his kindness. Yet every time, he’d tell you it’s nothing. “I’ve been meaning to renovate it anyway.” he messaged you after you said it really didn't matter to you how the room looked.

You wondered where his effortless helpfulness came from. Of course, you were his best friend's daughter at the end of the day, and that’s a good enough reason. That still didn't keep you from feeling like a stranger to him. Because well, you were.

He knew about your existence while you weren't really even aware of his. You could never tell your father's friends apart, so that made Jay just another piece of his endless stories. And at times like these, you regret not listening. Maybe then you’d at least have a vision, idea of the man you’ll be living with for at least the next 6 months. Apart from being fucking hot, there was nothing that accompanied.

“Still don’t understand why you chose Paris. Isn’t Parsons equally good?” Sunghoon asks, his hands folding your clothes as he helps you pack the last of your belongings.

You chuckle “You’re only saying that because Niki goes there. And that girl you’ve been hooking up with” he looks at you with mock offense.

New York had good fashion schools. Great, even. But you were too young to not go and explore the world. Staying in one place, never trying out new things sounded like a nightmare.

“That’s a lie. It’s a good school, seriously” he defends and you nod, because there was no denying it “It doesn't matter though. Paris will be fucking dope. You better send us postcards with the Eiffel Tower on it”

Ningning, Sunghoon and Jungwon see you off at the airport. All the way there, your little brother and Ningning argue, the younger one beating her to the passenger seat. It’s endearing, even if normally you wouldn't enjoy listening to it. Your father, too busy with yet another vacation, doesn't get to be there for your departure. Maybe you’d feel disappointed- the difference is that it isn't the first time, and it surely isn't the last time.

“Visit me, mmh?” you mutter into Jungwon’s sweater as he hugs you tightly. You can feel him nod “Okay”

___

Jay, who was always a clean person, seems to be even cleaner over the past week. He ferociously scrubs at the bathroom tiles, cleaning in between every crevice as if you’d even notice his hard work. He washed his windows on Monday, but on Friday, the day before your arrival, he feels a sudden urge to do it again. And the amount of money he’d spent on accessories and other decorations for his apartment that was already beautiful before that- he’d rather not say.

Jay had texted you early in the morning “Work today. Left the keys in the lobby under your name”

A hint of disappointment flashes across your face as you read his message. You don’t really know what causes the reaction- perhaps the letdown, as you were undeniably excited to see him again (who knows why, really?).

You take the RER B train, the ride excruciatingly long as you wonder just how large the city must be. Navigating New York suddenly seemed so easy, as you try to figure out how exactly you should get to the apartment itself.

At the reception, with the help of your broken French and a translator, you managed to convey to the old man that worked there that you were indeed the one Park Jongseong left his keys for.

Jay lived on Rue Vaneau, close to Les Invalides, in a sunny corner apartment with east and south exposure. It had an impressive ceiling height, all the old elements on it and on the walls have been beautifully preserved. There was an entrance gallery, a dining kitchen, 3 bedrooms, one bathroom and a laundry room right next to it.

Shelves with stacked up books were absolutely everywhere, and you use the opportunity of his absence to sort through them, see what the man does in his free time. You're shocked at how well he takes care of his plants- they all seemed so healthy.

And the room he prepared for you was beyond perfect. He left it perfectly clean prior to your arrival, making sure you would be comfortable putting away all your things. The boxes you sent out through the entirety of summer sat in the corner of the room, along with fresh, new sheets he’d bought for you.

In a way, this is exactly how you imagined him to live.

It still felt extremely odd to be in his space all alone. This wasn't yours, yet here you were, unlocking the door, stepping inside and walking around. You knew he wanted this, or at least didn't mind it- that didn't stop you from feeling like an intruder though. You wonder how long it’ll take you to actually shake this feeling off and feel comfortable in your new home.

For the rest of that day you unpack, and unpack, and after a short break- unpack some more. Jungwon calls you right after he wakes up, begging for a tour which you decide not to give him. “Won, I feel weird even being here. I’d feel even fucking weirder showing you around. Shit, like some stalker” he sighs at the response, and instead, asks for the view out your window and you gladly provide him with it.

At around 7PM you received a message from Jay “I’ll be there in 20. Got some dinner”. Honestly you didn't know what made you happier- the prospect of his awaited return or some real, warm food.

Jay went through his morning routine thinking about you. He sat at his desk at the firm and thought about you. And on the ride back to his place, he thinks only about you. He doesn't quite figure out why, but he’s aware of the fact that he probably shouldn't.

What shall he greet you with? Definitely not the Chinese in his backseat. But he’s far too exhausted to actually make something. And maybe he should feel guilty, but he hopes you won't mind.

Stepping into his apartment, he finds it awfully quiet. Yet he still can feel someone's presence. A velvety smell lingers in the air, and he recognizes it. His hand pauses at your door- he thinks about the things he should say, or maybe not say. Eventually he knocks, and it doesn't take long for your voice to welcome him in.

“Hey” he cringes as the phrase comes out awfully unnatural.

You look up from your position on the floor (previously, consumed with sorting through your memorabilia), a small, little bit awkward, smile finding its way on your face “Hey”

He leans against the doorway, scanning the room to see all the shelves and spaces suddenly filled with your belongings “How was your flight?” He thinks it's the right thing to ask.

You swallow, before speaking again “It was alright. Slept through half of it, honestly” you nod, and he chuckles reciprocating the action.

“Hungry?” he asks, and you spot the plastic bag hanging on his finger. Normally, you’d feel bad about someone buying you something, but under these circumstances, you feel relieved.

You nod, and stand up, following him to the kitchen.

“I should've treated you to a nicer meal today. I’m sorry” he apologizes, and sets the takeout box in front of you. Handing you the utensils, he sits across from you.

“It’s more than enough, don’t worry” you smile.

“I hope you find everything okay in the room. Didn't really know what you like” he starts, and you shake your head.

He asked his female coworkers for advice but instantly regretted it when they started interrogating him. It’s a hard thing to explain- the idea of his best friend's daughter that's nearly 20 years younger, moving in with him.

“It’s perfect, Jay. You didn't have to, seriously” you say, and he feels his heart skip a beat at the sound of his name falling from your lips “Thank you. I don’t know how I would've managed without your help” you add.

He can still sense the awkwardness in your movements and tone as you refer to him. He wonders when that’ll change. Soon, he hopes. Very soon, actually.

“I’m sure you could do it. You’re a smart girl. And I’m also sure you’ll find your way around here soon enough” the reassurement warms your heart, as you thank him again.

You are smart, and you would manage to survive on your own in Paris. But he’s secretly satisfied with the fact that you didn't.

Maybe this minimizes the chances of you finding random hookups or getting black-out drunk on the weekends. He tells himself he’s only doing this to protect you, and shield you from the dangerous men that walk the streets of this city. But he knows it’s not entirely true.

Jay is certainly infatuated by you, and it feels really fucking wrong. But he can’t stop it, no.

_____

Paris has never been louder. The air is filled with chatter, distant traffic and the inevitable end of summer.

Jay didn't really plan on spending his day off walking around the city with you, but somehow, he’s here.

To him, it was just Paris. He used to be like you and he remembers it well. The euphoria kept diminishing year by year leading him right to where he is now- wasting away his life in courtrooms and bars. But at least people knew his name.

The city doesn't amuse him anymore- he’s been here, seen it all. But the flicker in your eyes and happiness that radiates off of every one of your words makes him feel it again. He’s back to the day where everything felt new to him.

Early in the morning, two days after your arrival you told him you’d go out, explore the streets. You had to. Even Sunghoon had begun making fun of you “You’ve been in fucking Paris for the past two days and haven't even seen the Eiffel Tower yet. And you know, the longer you delay it, the longer it’ll take for our postcards to arrive” you smiled, and with a small sigh, told him you’d do it the next day.

“Wait here” Jay said when you entered the living room.

He walked right into his bedroom, closing the door as you stood there with confusion painting your face. After a moment he came back, fully dressed, looking really fucking good “I’ll go with you”

“I can manage” you said politely, feeling the tiniest bit of guilt. The man in front of you worked tirelessly everyday, and instead of regenerating on his day off, he’s forced to pointlessly walk around with you.

“You’re a kid,” he chuckles, leaning against the wall.

“You say that too much” you retort, walking over to where he's at, slipping on your shoes.

“Because it’s true” he watches you with his arms crossed, waiting.

You huff, shaking your head “I think it’s because you don’t want to see me as anything else”

You didn't mean anything by it. Just a simple nudge at his superiority complex perhaps. But still, he seems to stiffen up at the words.

Jay pretends he doesn't hear them, he acts as if they had never been said because it’s better that way, he’s sure.

That day you actually spent time with him. Dinner was always the same- forced conversations that always ended with his infamous “I’m tired”. Shortly after, he’d be off to bed and you were alone, again.

Of course you didn't expect him to become anyone to you. Being allowed to live in his apartment was enough. Anything else went beyond any kind of favor, and you were aware of it.

Yet you still attempted to be in his space. Too in his space sometimes.

You stop at a bookstore. It’s independent and most likely on

the verge of bankruptcy. The dusty wooden bookshelves, and faint smell of old paper seems to bother you, as he looks like he’s in heaven.

“Haven't you already read like all of these” you complain watching him flip through the books.

He chuckles, handing you the red, silky hardback “That’s the sad thing about life. I’ll never get to read them all”

“Wish that’s what my problems sounded like” you mutter, and he pushes off the shelf, stepping closer and reaching past you to grab another dusty book.

“You're really judgmental. As expected for a fashion design student” he comments, and you nudge him with your elbow. He should move away, but he lets you.

Jay keeps flipping through the pages, ignoring the way you huff in annoyance at his remark.

“What does that even mean?” you ask, and his lips twitch, as a smile threatens to spread across his face.

“I think you already know” you leave it there, pressing your back against the shelves, ostentatiously and playfully crossing your arms with an irritated exhale.

Walking along the Seine at nightfall is awfully romantic, yet he still does it. For you.

You stop at the edge, leaning against the low, stone wall “The water's really dirty” you say, and he just hums in agreement. You turn around, now facing him “Did you always want to live here?” your tone doesn't really make it sound like you're actually curious.

He shrugs, moving closer. His body falls onto the wall, right next to you “No” it’s short and you can tell he isn't lying.

It confuses you. This has always been your dream, and seeing the city only verified those desires “But you do now?”

You almost need the confirmation, awfully scared to experience regret. At the end of the day, you two aren't much different.

“It’s a city like any other. The longer you're here, you realize it’s nothing special” you scoff, looking up at him.

His gaze is on the pavement, but as soon as he feels your eyes on him, he looks up.

“You’re like really depressing and unromantic”

He tilts his head, humming “I think you’ve watched too many French romance films” you nudge him with your body, and he chuckles softly at the interaction. He stays still, watching you.

“I just think it’s a waste to be here and not fall in love at least once” you reply, and he finds it humorous in a way.

Jay has been here for most of his life, and never married. Somewhere in his twenties, right after finishing university, he’d use his degree to pick up girls. He cringes thinking about it now- how the only two things he had going on for himself was fucking everything in plain sight and a degree that he hadn’t even put to use yet.

But as soon as he found a job, it stopped. He prided himself in his professionalism and control. That’s probably why he’s single and not even close to being not-single.

“Sounds like a nightmare” his tone is mocking, and in response, you roll your eyes.

“Why?” His gaze is steady and firm. A little knowing.

He sighs “I think you just don’t really leave the same after”

You hold his gaze like you want to say something more. Like you know something he won't admit.

It’s late when you return home. The morning buzz falls, replaced by the intense Parisian nightlife. He didn't expect to be out so long- maybe 3, 4 hours. Still, he let himself be dragged around for the whole day.

He should go to bed, he really should. Instead, he’s with you, on his balcony, drinking fucking wine. But he was the one who brought it out, he was the one to initiate this. He’s just trying to get to know you better, he tells himself.

“You’re not even 21” yet he still hands you the glass.

You laugh softly, looking around “We’re in Europe” he puts his hands up in defeat, his back pressed against the wall.

You’re sitting on the railing, legs swinging slightly as the city spreads out before your eyes. He watches you, and it almost looks like you're memorizing it, afraid that soon that’s all it’s gonna be- a memory, a souvenir for your mind.

“You’ll fall” his voice sounds a little lazy, but cautious.

“Would you catch me?” you smile, tilting your head in a curious manner.

Do you always have to be so teasing? Or are you just being yourself and he’s slowly spiraling into insanity. That’s a stretch, certainly, but Jay still hates the way he lets you.

The wind lifts your hair, the lights make your skin glow and your body is positioned in such a welcoming way. You look so young, so fearless and most importantly- fucking tempting. Jay looks away before he lets himself think any further.

He’s a grown man and you haven't even started university. You're his best friend's daughter with whom he is temporarily living. That’s all it is and that’s all it’ll ever be.

“You sound confident” he retorts, and you smile, sipping the drink in your hand. He does the same.

It’s only been two days. Where did it come from?

“Because I know you like having me around” you grin, and he shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

Oh you have no fucking idea. It kills him, and at the same time, makes him feel alive. That’s pure tragedy.

“You’re putting words in my mouth” he mutters, lifting the glass to his lips. He’s trying not to look at you, he really is.

You smile, and jump off the railing setting the drink down on a glass table.

“And maybe that’s because you never say what you actually want to” you answer, passing by him and entering the apartment again. It’s so quiet, Jay almost thinks he imagined it, misheard it.

Your fingers brush past his, and he feels it. He feels it even after you’re gone.

He knows exactly what you meant and it should scare him. But it doesn't. Because the truth was, Jay wanted you to say it so he could be the one to prove you wrong.

_____

It’s Sunday. And you're fucking stressed.

The week that led up to the beginning of the semester had been fun enough to make you second guess going to school all together. Seeing the picture perfect city with your own two eyes was a blessing you never expected to experience.

You’re on his couch, flipping through one of the aged books that could be found on his shelf.

French. Complicated. Too serious. But at least you could pretend you understand, or even care for the piece of literature.

Jay sits at the kitchen counter, typing away at his laptop. And honestly, he doesn't know why. Just five steps away is his office, perfectly designed to accommodate all his needs. Yet he chooses the hard, uncomfortable stool at the kitchen island.

“Jay” you start, eyes still on the book that has caused you to become more bored than you were before opening it “What kind of lawyer are you? Like, what do actually do” your voice is casual, as you steal a glance at him.

He fixes his glasses but doesn't look away. “Corporate” it’s fast, and automatic, almost like he’s heard the question millions of times in his life. Probably because he has.

“Boring” you comment, expecting something more scandalous.

“Pays the bills. That’s enough” his voice is even.

You turn on your side, stretching out your legs. He watches. He watches you, comfortable in his space. Almost too comfortable.

“Sorry to disappoint” he adds, putting his focus back on the unanswered mails in his inbox. But he knows you’re right there, and it bothers him. Not in a bad way- and that feels oddly unsettling.

“Have you never considered something dirtier? Riskier?” you muse, tilting your head.

It was just curiosity. You weren't doing it on purpose.

Were you?

“Dirtier?” he mutters to himself, before glancing away one more time “I don’t take risks. It’s idiotic” the explanation is accompanied by his firm tone.

“Never?” his eyes gloss over the work he hasn't finished yet. He still closes his laptop though. Jay walks over to the couch, sitting down close to you, but not too close.

A hum of disagreement slips past his lips “Never” he leans back on the couch, exhaling deeply as he looks at the time.

“I think you like control too much” you know that you shouldn’t comment on his decisions or life, but it comes naturally as you can’t stop the words from coming out.

He chuckles, looking over at you, watching the way your body spreads out on the brown leather couch “And I think you talk too much”

Still, something inside him tenses. Jay knows you’re right, but at the same time, it pisses him off because- you have no idea.

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you set down the book on his coffee table. Jacques Prévert. Opened right on the poem he knows by heart.

‘Bête comme les regrets, tendre comme le souvenir’ - Foolish as regrets, tender as memory. Jay always liked the line. More than the poem itself, actually. When he first read it, he didn't quite understand. He still doesn't, not when he never experienced that fragile love, beautiful as day and cold as marble.

His father had given him the book right before he moved out. Jay never really comes back to it- written in French, by a French author, it still reeks of the life he desires to forget. The life that he hasn't lived for the past 20 years- yet it always comes back to him in the most unexpected moments.

He remembers the day when his father called him and sounded oddly unfamiliar. Jay had just turned 30- which was such a strange age to be, since you are far from being old but not young enough to be considered youthful.

“I’m not one to get sick” his dad had said it like it was a mistake, a glitch that never should've occurred in the first place. And it was partially true- he can't recall his father ever coming down with a flu or even sore throat. Later, he was diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia.

His father despised any form of sickness and anything that was associated with it. So he didn't want to get treated. And for him, that was fatal- the infection triggered a chain reaction throughout his body causing sepsis to arise.

And just like that, New York became a stranger to him, a place where he thought only bad things were destined to happen.

He thinks that he wasn't meant to be born there. Just like the pneumonia had been a mistake, his birth there must've been too.

“You’re just like all of my dads old friends, I swear” It's playful, harmless. But Jay stills at the jab, his gaze freezing on you.

“Old?” he raises an eyebrow, and there's a smirk that tugs at the corner of your lips.

“Older” you correct, too deliberately.

It’s almost like you're mocking him, testing his ignorance. It’s like you want to see if he’ll correct you. He doesn't.

He knows you're not the stubborn kid his friend used to complain about. But he also knows how much older he’s gotten since then. It also seems to terrify him, because the fact doesn't stop him, not at all.

Jay knows he’s the one who brought you here, and maybe he could blame it on the slip of his tongue, or perhaps the need to fulfil an obligation towards his friend, but that wouldn’t be necessarily true.

He sullied his life with his own hands, and he knew how much harder it was only going to get to not dirty yours too.

“You should get some sleep,” he mutters, standing up and collecting all the dirty dishes, dropping them in the sink.

“I’m tired,” he added lazily, like always.

It was his little way of ending a conversation when it became too much. His escape goat when he knew that he was close to letting go. And recently, he’s been dangerously close.

You know there's nothing more you can say, so instead, you just nod, and without another word, walk off to your room.

Your father has called a couple times since you arrived and every time, Jay sounds distant, keeping the conversations short, leaving out any details. He just can’t be friendly, pretend like everythings the same when it’s so painfully not. Jay can't be nice and enthusiastic when all he wants is to fuck his bestfriends daughter.

Will it ever end? Maybe if he gave in, ruined them both. Maybe then.

____

Cooking or baking was his escape whenever the stress became a bit too intense, and well, currently, he was really fucking stressed.

Jay knew it’d be this way, and thinking otherwise would only prove him to be much dumber than he thought he was. But still, he hoped. He hoped that maybe the language barrier would be hard enough to conquer. He hoped that you weren’t the greatest at making new friends (that’s just beyond dumb. It even shocked him-that he has the capacity to think so stupidly).

You started attending the academy a week ago. And of course you were the type of person that people naturally gravitated towards. Of course all the students spoke perfect English, it’s an international programme for fucks sake.

So today, instead of staying home with him, you’re out. Out, where he can’t see you or find you. Waiting for you on nights like this turns out to be torturous- he can’t call or text because he simply shouldn't care. But he does.

It’s past midnight and he should've gone to sleep hours ago. Instead, his fingers wrap around a knife as he makes a dish he doesn't even want.

Growing up, cooking or baking was a luxury. He couldn't even bother to think about things like expensive clothes or tropical vacations.

At the restaurant is where he learned most of his skills. He was a server, but during slower days, he’d always peek around the kitchen.

One of the chefs, a fat Italian man named Dante, had actually taken a liking to the young waiter. So every chance he got, he’d call Jay over and let him in on the secrets of his world.

He hears you before he sees you- a stupid, youthful giggle and your hands latching onto the walls. Your heels clink against his wooden floor, falling as you kick them off your feet.

He looks at you, takes you in. Hair tousled, a hole in your lacy tights, lipstick smudged (either by yourself or a stranger) and the strap of your dress hanging off your shoulder. It was like a transitional phase- physically, in his apartment, mentally, still part of the night.

“You’re late,” he muttered, chopping up a cucumber. At your laugh, he presses harder, the knife digging into the cutting board.

“I have a curfew? Didn't know” you grin, stepping forward until your elbows are propped up on the kitchen counter.

His jaw tightens “Where were you?” The question sounds firm, and his expression is slowly starting to give away the jealousy boiling inside him.

Your scent and presence is too intense. You’re almost too in his kitchen, too in his apartment and too in his head.

“Out” its chaste, and you don’t even bother to look him in the eyes, only focused on his movements, making him feel like a fucking stranger in his own home.

“With who?” God, he sounds like he cares. And maybe it’s a good thing, but not with you, certainly not with you.

He sees you reaching out for the bottle of water, and passes it to you. Why won’t you just say it? Fuck, just tell him.

“Evan? Maybe that's his name” you laugh, screwing the cap back on. Was this funny to you? You were doing it on purpose, he’s certain now. Trying to elicit a reaction from him- trying to see just how far he’d go if you pushed the right buttons.

With a low chuckle, he mutters “Evan”. Jay repeats the name like it’s a fucking joke. You furrow your eyebrows at his reaction.

“He’s a good guy” you insist and he muses, obviously not believing any word you say.

“I’m sure he is,” Jay nods slowly. He turns his body to face you. You’re still there, with that shit eating grin he wishes he could just fuck off of you.

“You think I can’t handle myself? Or maybe I’m too naive, hm?” you roll your eyes. He’s acting awfully familiar, and finally you realize those two years between him and your father don't really make a difference. They’re the exact same- overbearing and just way too interested for their own good.

Yet still, it doesn't bother you. The opposite even- you want to say more, you don’t want to stop. You want him to care for you so badly, wash away the night from your body. All you truly need is his attention and the look on his face is telling you that you’ve got him right where you want him.

After years of your own father not caring or showcasing the slightest hint of emotion towards you, it’s become somewhat of a desire to have someone that would.

“That’s ridiculous” he smiles, peeling himself off the counter “I just think those French boys you like so much, they talk a big game, you know?” he’s inching closer, prying the bottle from your grip “But they don’t necessarily know what to do with a woman once they have her”

Swallowing, you straighten your posture “And you do?”

Jay doesn't say anything at first, watching the way you become impatient with every passing second of his silence. He takes a long, slow sip of water before putting it down on the counter in front of you.

Reaching out, he turns off the stove “Eat it before it goes cold” he smirks slightly, walking off.

____

“Maybe tomorrow? I’m really tired today” Jungwon mutters, his voice muffled by the blue sheets wrapped around his body. With a small sigh, and understanding smile you nod, ushering him to get some sleep.

It was a usual occurrence by now- his tired voice would pick up the phone and barely five minutes into the call, he’d either be fast asleep or too drowsy to continue. And you tried to understand, you really did. It was Jungwon’s senior year in high-school, and you knew better than anyone how fucking frustrating it is to notoriously have the word ‘college’ thrown around you. That just didn’t stop you from feeling lonely.

In recent weeks, Jay has picked up way too many cases than he probably should have. He needed an escape. He physically needed the restraint of his own job since staying at his apartment has become way too dangerous. And with you already aware of the things he doesn’t want to admit, it only gets harder.

Sunghoon got a role in a play called “The Seventh Door”, as a vampire detective named Nathan. That’s been his whole life for the past two weeks- and rightfully so. No doubt you were proud of him, even saddened by the fact that you wouldn’t get to see him perform it. But the offer just made Sunghoon another person you couldn’t call, at least for now.

Ningning, casted in a movie adaptation of “Letters I Never Sent” (or Letters I Should’ve Sent? You never read the book, truthfully) was currently in Australia for the shoot. Her busy schedule and time difference had made it nearly impossible to talk.

To say you were proud of them was an understatement. Witnessing your best friends become the version of themselves they worked so hard to be was something so beautiful, no words could possibly describe it. And you felt beyond ungrateful whenever the thought of their success was the idea of something you lacked- especially when luck was already on your side the moment you got accepted into the academy. It was simply grueling to be aware of the fact that there’s still so much to be done before you yourself can boast about these sorts of accomplishments.

And on nights like these, where there is no one to call or confide in, you find yourself standing bare-foot, and disheveled in front of his door.

The bright blue clock on his night stand reads 2:03 AM. It taunts him as he rolls and turns in his bed, unable to sleep. The presence of another, becomes too heavy on nights where he wants to see you, but knows he can’t. He’s never known this feeling, never known the weakness he’s bound to experience now. Jay hates it- wanting the same person that’s the cause of his personal inferno.

He tries to ignore the first knock for the exact same reason he’s turning over on his side. Jay doesn’t hope you’ll walk away, he needs you to walk away. But by the time your fist hits his door again, he knows you won’t.

Switching on the lamp, he sits up on his bed. A small, yet still audible “Come in” passes by his lips. It doesn’t sound hesitant- more like he’s finally succumbed to the inevitable.

Your fingers linger on the doorknob for a second longer before ultimately turning it, revealing his scruffy state illuminated by the yellow light of his night lamp. The black tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, his muscles flexing as he runs his hand over his face.

You look too small, too human. His chest heaves uneasily, his throat itches to say something, welcome you into his embrace, touch you.

“Can I?” you ask, and for the first time in a while your tone isn’t mocking, or snarky. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” he means it. It isn’t. None of this was ever a good idea.

Jay knows this is you asking for something- something he should never give you. But he wants to. God, he really wants to.

“I don’t care” you murmur, glossy eyes staring over his figure. He shivers at the words.

Watching you run a hand down your arm, he realizes he might have no choice

Each step you take towards him erases the image of your father from his mind. Every movement that brings you closer makes him forget about the inescapable numbers that separate you. It becomes a confirmation of his burning fucking need to have you close, feel the warmth of your skin on his.

The mattress sinks slightly as you sit next to him. Your knee brushes against his- seemingly tiny, innocent. But it’s not. Not when he can feel it even after it's gone.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice unsure and rough.

You look down, fingers toying with the bracelets around your wrist “Couldn’t sleep” it almost sounds like a question, like you’re just as clueless as he is.

“And you thought my bed would fix that?” he tilts his head, eyes watching you intently. It doesn’t come off the way he planned it to, but you don’t seem to notice, or even care.

“May as well” it’s quiet, and before he can say anything else, tell you to leave, or do something he might regret, you speak again “I miss home” . It rolls off your tongue so fast, almost automatic. He can tell just how much it costs you to admit it.

He nods, pursing his lips together.

When his best friend's parents' company went bankrupt, he didn’t know what it felt like. When your mother died, he had no idea how to help your father. More so, when your dad was getting married again, and asked Jay for advice, he realized just how much he doesn’t know. But this time, he knows exactly how you feel.

Jay was so alone when he first came here. He only managed to squeeze in one phone call with his father every week, not to even mention his friends, whom he had close to no contact with. The loneliness drowned him, and for the last 20 years it still has. He’s surrounded with people every day, yet still feels like the only one.

And in those moments he understands how little he knows about the world, and has to offer. How insignificant his story actually is, and how stupid he was to think it can actually serve him any purpose. His parents died- devastating- but at the end of the day, everyone’s parents eventually will. He’s not special. He’s not the odd one out either.

Maybe that’s why he’s become so crazy about his best friend's daughter- because it all changed when you came into his life. And it gets harder to deny that whenever he remembers he forgot about it all.

“Jungwon?” he questions, and you exhale at the mention.

A small confirmation slips past your lips “Wonnie, my friends, everything” at first he doesn’t know what exactly he could do to help you. He knows what you feel, but can’t think of any remedy- probably because he never had one himself.

So he just stays quiet. He knows how exhausting it is to be in a city that doesn’t feel like yours- and he just hopes you know that. He hopes that his presence is enough to provide at least a temporary cure to what you’re feeling.

You move closer, and he feels his body stiffen up at the sudden contact. His eyes dart down to your figure, watching the way your head slowly, and tentatively falls to his shoulder. Jay exhales sharply, one hand on the small of your back, steadying, supporting. It’s instinct. He doesn’t think about it.

Until he does. Until he feels you inch closer with every passing second. Until he feels your breath on his chest, the texture of your skin under his fingertips, the faint smell of your bodywash in the air around him. And if you think it’s nothing, he can’t bear the fact that it’s everything to him.

He watches you covered in his sheets, your head flat on his pillow, staring up at his ceiling. You climbed in with no hesitation- like it’s completely normal. Like you actually should’ve done it or even belonged in his space from the start.

For a while it’s quiet- only faint breaths console the brooding silence. The bedroom is dark, the city's brightness being the only source of light. He can still feel you pressed against his chest. And when your leg brushes against his under the white sheets, his hands shake.

You move, your body now facing him. Looking up at him, you mutter out “Jay?”

He doesn’t look, only a faint hum in answer “Mhm?”

“Do you ever feel it too?” his jaw tightens, and his lips twitch. His eyes are closed, but he hears it- your figure slightly sitting up, moving closer to him.

He knows it's not fucking loneliness you're asking him about. You're talking about this.

It's not about right or wrong anymore. It’s about how fucking noticeable his want has become- how much it has begun to kill him. You’ve become severely undeniable and he’s just so helpless against the feeling.

The air shifts as you await his response- anything, even a barely audible word or missable movement.

“You should go to sleep” he swallows.

His entire body goes stiff as your small hand softly lands atop of his stomach. It’s light, and he wants so badly to say pure- but he possibly can’t, not when it moves up, the pace menacingly slow. Jay places his hand on yours, the look on his face stern “We can’t do this” it’s hushed, and almost sounds like he doesn’t want to say it, but rather has to.

“But you’re not stopping me” it rings in his ears as your touch moves further up- passing his chest, his collarbone, up to his throat. He lets you.

This is exactly where he should pull away, exactly where he should remind himself about those many things that actually separate you- but he can’t. Jay forgot all about it the moment he heard you knocking on his door.

“You wanted this, huh?” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest as the proximity proves too much for him to bear. The way you lean in closer only serves as a confirmation to his question.

Jay meets you halfway, lips brushing, barely anything at all- but he feels it everywhere. It’s so soft, so fleeting and it’s more than he ever expected to have. It’s too much.

He doesn’t hesitate to pull you onto his lap, fingers digging into your waist, his other hand holding onto the side of your face.

The small gasp that escapes your lips is swallowed by his mouth. Deep, and devouring.

________

On the couch, he checks his inbox eyes completely glued to the screen of his phone. He feels like the time it’s taking you to get ready is enough for him to get unready and ready again. At least 5 times.

Before the night you came to him, the night he let go, he gifted you a spare ticket to a play, “Somewhere Between You & Me” which his friend had kindly invited him to.

Jake was one of the lawyers at his workplace. He was 7 years younger than him, being Jay’s associate when he first arrived at the firm. Just a year ago, he became a junior partner. Between balancing work life, and his wife (whom he got married to just 5 months ago) he still managed to find time for his true passion- theater. Jay made fun of him for it of course, yet still, he’d watch his friend on stage every time.

“Somewhere Between You & Me” was one of his bigger projects. Tonight was the premiere and Jake’s hard work would finally pay off as it recently turns out, tickets sold out almost immediately. It’s also his last- because as it turns out, his wife is pregnant.

Tonight is also another day where Jay is unsure of how long he can hold up his disinterested facade. Definitely not long, definitely not when you look way too fucking good in that small black dress.

“Change” he voices sternly after looking at you for a moment. Give him another second, and that knowing grin would be right back on your face- you knew him too well by now.

It was just a kiss- all he can ever allow himself to do, all he will ever have. And he hopes soon the feeling of your lips on his finally vanishes from his mind.

“Why?” looking down at yourself, you tilt your head in confusion.

He scoffs “Because I said so” it’s quick, and he still doesn't dare to look your way.

You are way too beautiful today- and it taunts him. The slit rides too high, the sides cling onto your curves with such effortless elegance and it just mocks him- it’s like you know this is the day he’s gonna lose. Lose it all.

“That’s not a good enough reason” you huff, finding his attitude humorous. Humorous, meaning obvious. He may not be looking, trying so pathetically hard to hide it, but you already see what he hasn't admitted. You know damn too well what he thinks about at night, what he’s doing while the shower runs a little too long.

“Fine” he sighs and stands up, throwing on his overcoat. Considering the traffic, limited parking space and weather conditions- he should leave 10 minutes ago. “I hope you plan on putting something on top” his eyes are locked on the window as you slide into your heels.

“It’s fucking Novemeber, Jay. Of course I am” you retort, with a snarky grin.

“One more word” his patience has seemed to run dry- still, you don’t seem to care, only finding it amusing.

Ever since that night, you have purposefully been lingering around him longer than necessary. Wearing little to no clothes, 'accidentally’ touching him. And of course, he notices.

Jay is hyper aware of every single one of your actions- and to be completely honest, each time he’s a shot away from bending your frail little body over his knee and slapping the shit out of your ass.

Trying to get work done in his home office is practically impossible- it always ends the same.

“What are you doing?” you’d ask him, your voice sultry. And to make it even fucking better, the only thing that seperates him from your sweet pussy is a black thong and the oversized shirt thats (barely) covering it.

And even when he managed to tell you ‘It’d be better if you leave’, you just fucking wouldn't. Not now, not ever.

Instead, your hands would land onto his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. The touch goes straight to his cock, and he really prays you don’t notice. It’s stupid- obviously you do.

You slip your arm through his as the two of you enter the beauty of one of the Parisian theaters. He exchanges a few words with one of the workers, a polite smile on his face. You barely understand anything, of course.

The private balcony Jake had acquired for Jay was way too perfect- secluded, away from wandering eyes. It’s almost like every possible thing has aligned just right for you to break him.

Jake, completely unaware, got these seats for him strictly based on the flawless view of the stage. Jay isn't looking at it, not for a moment.

Your legs are crossed as you watch the story unveil. The slit in your dress shifts just enough to expose the bare skin of your thigh, and he feels like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. Fuck, he’s a lost cause, truly.

Jay exhales, slowly, adjusting his sleeves, trying, forcing himself to look forward. Spotting Jake’s giddy face, he wonders if the man knows just how much he’s fucked him over with the private seats. His lack of attention to the play makes up for it though.

You can feel his wandering eyes on you, on your body. Your hand lands on his thigh “You’re not paying attention, Jay” you say his name like it’s fucking funny, like you know just how much it will affect him.

“And you’re pushing your luck” he whispers back, swallowing as your touch moves up higher.

“Am I?” you breathe out.

His hand catches your wrist in a firm, unwavering grip. He yanks you closer, his lips next to your ear “Careful”

You don’t move away, only further shortening the distance that separates you from him “You brought me here” the words ring in his ear as you press a slow kiss to his jawline “You know what would happen” lips slide down his neck, as teeth lightly nip the birthmark on his skin.

He guides your hand closer to his crotch, pressing it firmly against his fucking obvious hard on “Did I?” he muses, his grip on your wrist loosening.

Oh he did. He knew it would end like this- it was just the matter of when and where exactly. Here, in the car, in the foyer, kitchen, living room, your bed or his. But of course he wouldn't want to admit that to you, or better, himself even.

You look around, and there is a sense of hesitance in your eyes. Everyones so focused, nobody would even notice if your hand just slipped underneath his pants.

Jay wants to take you so fucking deep you won't even remember your own name. So hard you’ll end up forgetting anything before him.

He removes your hand from his body, standing up slowly, smoothing down his pants. He moves around to stand behind you, and leans down, his fingers pressing against your neck “So spoiled. Things won’t happen for you that easily”

You feel his lips press against your skin in a fleeting moment before he leaves. It’s a promise of something forbidden, a claim he’s now placed on you that cannot be taken back.

______

For winter break, your father and Ann had asked if you wanted to come back, and spend Christmas in New York. They were willing to purchase the tickets, and it came to you as something rather surprising.

You knew it was Ann’s idea- it couldn't have been your dad’s, it never was. She would never become a motherly figure to you considering she wasn't much older, but that didn't mean her caring attitude for both you and Jungwon went unnoticed.

Without much thought, you agreed, almost instantly calling Sunghoon and Jungwon to announce the news.

Your brother was beyond thrilled to see his big sister, complaining how hard it’s been without you by his side “I always hear them, talking, yelling- you know how loud they get, right? But still it feels so lonely. I miss you” he said, voice hushed.

Guilt was something that arose only when you confronted Jay about it. Of course you felt bad- his kindness spread beyond any stupid favour he had towards your father. He welcomed you into his home, letting you freely live in the confines of his space, and even allowing your obviously flirty and borderline sexual behavior towards him.

“Okay” he replied, lifting his gaze from a file he was currently working through.

It was one of those clients where he was forced to rely primarily on research, and he hated those the most. The frenzied pace that came with cases his managing partner rushed him through were his favorite- probably because it gave him little to no time to think about everything else in his life.

He came home at midnight, sometimes a little later and all he had energy for was a shower and falling into bed. So even on his days off, he tries to surround himself with as many things as he can.

Right now, you couldn't tell if he was mad, or maybe even relieved to have you gone for the next two weeks. On another thought, reading into his behavior is what continues to make you feel insane- so it’d be better not to.

“Will you be fine?” he chuckles at your question, finding the answer almost obvious.

He’s been fine his whole life, and truly, if only you knew how not fine he would be, you’d probably laugh at him.

“It really doesn't affect me, you know?” he affirms, taking off his glasses and leaning back in his chair, not even masking the way his eyes wander over your body.

You sit down on the desk in front of him, looking down at the file “Liar” it’s barely audible, but Jay hears you. He hears you very well.

He scoffs softly, shaking his head “I really hate lying, you know?” The firm tone in his voice almost makes it sound true.

You prop yourself on one hand, tilting your head and quirking an eyebrow at his statement. It’s humorous in a way- how he desperately tries to pretend in front of you that nothing significant happened.

“Yet you keep lying to yourself” you say it like it's obvious. Jay doesn't seem to enjoy the reminder of his stupidity and failed oblivion.

“What about?” he questions, but already knows the answer. It’s almost like he just wants to hear you say it, test if you actually know what he thinks about every night.

“About the things you want to do to me” the words come out so easily, like you’ve known far too long, maybe even before he did. He’s stunned, even though he expected it.

The next morning, he drove you to the airport, the car ride terrifyingly silent. The radio in his car had been broken for sometime now and he’s been meaning to get it fixed, but the time he’s spent without it, naturalized it.

So many things have become weirdly, almost unsettlingly natural that he craves so badly to remember what it was like before. He finds himself wondering how he possibly survived all this time- how did the loneliness not drown out every possible part of him until he was nothing but flesh and bones.

You look out the window, tapping your fingers against your thigh. The silence is so foreign and you wonder where it comes from.

Did you go too far? Did you finally break him? Could you have possibly said too much? But if he despised the art of lying so much, then how could the truth make him so uncomfortable?

“Have a good Christmas” he said with a stoic expression, pulling out your small suitcase from his trunk.

Jay stands there, waiting for you to say something that’ll let him leave, set him free. But you don't. You don't move either, just look around- at him, his car, the airport, the other cars and people- some kissing, hugging, crying or even smiling. Christmas seemed to be such a happy but equally miserable time.

He hates that this will happen again. He knows that soon enough, he’ll have to say goodbye and it won't be temporary. It’s just two weeks- 14 fucking days. You’re still there, only an inch of separation between you, but he's already missing you.

It comes to him only when he’s leaned down, pressing you tightly against his warm body. He hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating and how his hands shake when they hold onto your waist and shoulder. At first it seemed like your body stiffened, and he thought you might push him away. But you didn't, soon enough melting into his touch.

It seems so overly dramatic, but to you, it means the world.

With a small smile he ushers you to go with a swify motion of his hand, and you nod, descending into the airport. He watches you, and even after you're out of his sight, he stands there, perhaps hoping you’ll run back out. It takes him 4 more minutes to get back into his car and go off to the firm.

Jay spends Christmas Eve with his friends from the firm (and their wife’s). He and Anton- another fellow senior partner- seem to be the only men at the table without a wife or child. And just that same thing seems to be the topic of discussion tonight.

As they help Jake and his wife, Valérie, gather the dishes and clear the table, she turns to him, and asks politely “Where is that woman I saw you with?” he almost missed it over the sound of constant clatter and the running tap.

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at her with a mix of confusion and curiosity “What woman?” Anton seems to wonder the same thing as he places his interest back on the conversation at hand.

Jake turns off the tap, taking the plates into his hands and drying them one by one. He joins in on the conversation, his expression one of slight excitement “The one you took to see the play” he confirmed what Jay had already been thinking about. “I wanted to come and greet you two, but you disappeared before I even got the chance” he adds, saddened.

Jay exhales. He doesn't know what to tell them when they soon start asking for specifics- he could lie, and it’d probably make him feel good too, but there's no way they hadn't noticed how young you are. He’d look like such a creep, wouldn't he?

“Is she not your girlfriend?” Valérie flips the question, making it easier to answer in a way. He feels just that small bit of relief.

Jay swallows at the words. The implication makes him feel terrible- he lives in a world where conformity is encouraged and what he’s doing isn't normal or even accepted in the slightest by the masses.

He shakes his head, avoiding eye contact. “No” it’s so quick he hopes they won't say anything else, and perhaps move onto the next topic.

She smiles at him downwardly “That’s misfortunate”

Oh, Valérie. Isn't it?

After dinner with your family (and Sunghoon) you return to your room. You note how uncomfortably cold it seems to be in the house- how much more unfamiliar this place now felt to you. It no longer had the life you tried so badly to persevere.

From the small cracks in your door, you hear Jungwon bickering with Sunghoon about a football match. The latter seems to be taking great pleasure in frustrating your little brother and you find it quite adorable how easily Jungwon gets bothered by things like this.

It’s 12 and the atmosphere doesn't seem to be dying down as your father gets everyone started with another bottle of wine.

It’s 7 in Paris. You wonder what he could possibly be up to- working himself away in his office, drinking with friends or maybe worse, on a date with someone. Your finger hovers over his contact number and it feels incredibly infantile. It takes you back to highschool- sleepovers with your friend where you’d play truth or dare, the challenge being calling the boy you like. In a way, it feels exactly the same this time, the difference being, Jay is a grown man and not some horny, sweaty teenage boy. And you, you’re not 15 anymore.

He wouldn't mind, would he? Your only goal is checking if he’s doing alright, if he’s happy. There's barely any harm in that. But before you get to formulate a reasonable enough motive for your call, his voice sounds through the phone's speaker.

“Hello?” He sounds surprised, a gratifying sense of tiredness lacing his tone. You exhale, before speaking “Hi” it’s quiet and uncertain, as if you hope the volume will make it less significant.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a twinge of worry in his voice.

He was back at his apartment with Jake when he saw you call. His friend had left with him, as his wife had promised her brother, Ezra, to stop by before the day ended (and Jake, well, he wasn’t quite fond of him). They lolled about, discussing Jake’s next play, The Night We Almost Met (Valerie had convinced him to not quit "Pregnancy is not a disease, Jake") the professional negligence lawsuit he’s working on, a case Jay is working on between a fast-growing software development firm and a cloud storage provider, and more importantly- Jay’s secretive love life.

He stood from the comfort of his sofa, pointing to his phone “I have to take this” he said quickly to his friend who just nodded, a state of sleep overcoming him at a rapid pace.

“Mmm” the sound of confirmation seemed to make his heart steady a bit- he wonders why he was even stressed in the first place. Perhaps it’s because sometimes he worries you’ll decide to leave for good, you’ll finally realize that this place was never meant for you and Parsons was the better choice “Where are you?” you add questioningly, and he takes a moment to reply.

“Home” he makes it sound like a dual effort, and it makes you smile slightly. Like the home he means is not only his, but yours too. And in a way, it’s true- Jay has suddenly realized just how terrifyingly awful the silence is whenever he comes back to the apartment after a long day. He realizes just how much he needs you to fill the void in his heart- one created by the love he never received “Was Christmas nice?” His tone is confusingly soft, something you don’t even recall from the day that you came to him.

“It was nice; it really was” you answer, and he hums in response, the sound ushering you to continue “I missed Jungwon. And Sunghoon. New York in general, I think though” you say, and he bites back his tongue before he says something stupid (because truly, how could anyone miss New York? Then again, he does realize he’s probably the only one with such an incessant problem towards the city).

There’s a brief moment where neither you or him say anything, the time filled with unspoken thoughts and words that linger at the tip of your tongues. There are so many things he wishes he could tell you at the moment- how much he wants to kiss you, how much he misses having you around, talking to you. And how fucking much he wants to make the filthiest and most impure form of love to you. But he assumes it's probably better to let you live on without the knowledge. For now, at least.

You hesitate, but before you know it, the words, almost involuntarily, slip past your lips “I miss you”.

There’s another pause, as he repeats it over and over again in his head. The knot in his stomach grows tenfold as he fully grasps the feeling at hand- how much it has actually taken over his life, and how he doesn’t mind it- not at all.

Jay realizes that there is no fulfilling answer to his situation other than giving in, and that in itself, never really was an illicit or morally wrong answer. He knows that he would hate himself so much more if he never tried, rather than if he let himself follow his desires and it resulted in failure. He was ready to take that risk, as long as you’d still have him.

Through his drunken memories, he remembers when he first saw you, saying things he later cringed at and regretted. He recalls the exact thought process he had when you came to your home on Hester St., trudging towards your father with the letter in hand. It was obvious to him, and he didn’t even bother giving himself the day to think about it- right there and then he knew so well that he’d be the one to house you, and take care of you.

You bothered him so much, when he was cooking or working or reading, yet he never even thought to get mad at you. Jay wanted you to do it, sometimes even putting himself out there just so you could torture him a little more.

“I miss you too, sweetheart”

_____

A week later, you were back in France.

You had insisted on getting back home by yourself. At one point, he was practically begging to take you, but you prevailed “I have to pick something up from Karina’s” you told (Karina was your class partner turned friend, whom you were currently working on a collection with) He sighed, eventually accepting the reasoning.

He sits in the courtroom, and curses himself because today, he’s truly a terrible lawyer. One that he himself would have hated just months ago. All he thinks about is you, unconsciously counting down the hours until he can go back home to you. He feels so childlike at that moment, but he can allow it, just this once, he thinks.

Luck doesn’t seem to be on his side that day- as soon as he steps out of the hall, his phone buzzes with a call from the managing partner, Nicholas Allard, who informs him of a partner's dinner later in the evening “You better be there, Park. Especially since you’re eyeing name partner” the sternness in his voice makes Jay huff. “I’m not”

Nicholas always says that, and it inexplicably irritates him, because he truly isn’t. Jay was fully satisfied with being senior partner, furthermore, staying senior partner. Nothing would change if his name appeared on the wall- he’d be stuck with the same pretentious clients, and maybe even become pretentious himself. He didn’t want that.

All the way through dinner he begs for it to finally end. Anton apparently had helped Nicholas choose the restaurant- Pur’ on Rue de la Paix- and he laughs at his friends’ desperation. He had been the one actually hoping to get his last name slapped right next to Nicholas’. Everyone had noticed by now, and secretly made fun of the man for it“The Russian hooker I slept with last Saturday is nothing compared to the way he’s riding Allards dick. Maybe he should take her place” They were out for lunch, absent-mindedly cracking jokes about their friend.

You were working with Karina at her apartment. She lived on Rue Erard, near Reuilly-Diderot station. It was further away from the city centre, but she didn’t mind. Karina shared the space with a Japanese student, Aeri, who studied science at the European International University. They got along, she said, but it seemed like they lived in two completely different worlds sometimes. And you understood that.

It was hard for you to have actual conversations with Jay at first. He was so engulfed in a world you had no actual grasp of. And he never cared for the arts of fashion that you loved so dearly. For you, he was too serious at times, and to him, you were too carefree.

“Are you seeing someone?” she asked you, waxing a pair of pants you had sewn together. You shook your head, although it felt somehow wrong. It felt untrue even when it, unfortunately, was very much true. You wanted to say yes because a part of you had already begun to accept a reality that wasn’t quite veracious. A confirmation in the form of that short, simple and breathy ‘yes’ would help you go on with the zeal needed.

By the time you got home, Jay was already there. He almost jumped when he heard the keys unlock the sturdy door. It opened with a creak and you softly glanced inside before opening it fully. He marks his book, slipping off his glasses and lying it all down on his coffee table. He trembles with desire, his leg twitching as the moment he’s woken up thinking about, has finally been handed to him.

He clears his throat slightly, and it’s like a hand that he’s extending out for you, asking you to come with him. You drop your suitcase and bag to the floor, opening the glass door that separates the foyer from the rest of the apartment. He can almost grab onto the change that spreads through the air between you. Jay feels it with his bare hands as you sit down next to him, the silence acting as a welcoming gesture. It says enough for the two of you to know you’ve missed the other.

“Tired?” he asks, and there’s a hint of guilt in his expression as he regrets not just forcing you to take his offer in the form of a ride home. But he knows you’re too stubborn anyway.

You nod, and sigh softly. He doesn’t hesitate to open his arms, inviting you into his comforting embrace. You accept, almost too hurriedly. The action makes him chuckle. Jay wraps his arms around your figure, your back pressing against his chest. Your head leans back as you look up at him with a small smile.

“Did you have fun in New York?” he asks, his hand moving up and down your arm in a soothing manner. He stops at your fingers, interlacing them with his own. You squeeze tightly and nod.

“Yeah. Dad asked about you, a lot. You should call him” your response makes him tense up. He feels sick.

Jay has been avoiding your fathers phone calls, or making them as short as possible. The frequency of his avoidance has increased substantially, especially since the night you slept in his room.There’s a prevailing guilt ridiculing him everytime he sees his best friend call- your father trusted him with you, and he probably never doubted that same trust. So easily, Jay broke it, never once thinking about the consequences, not when he was making out with you in his bed or touching himself to the image of you.

He swallows, and nods, knowing he won’t be able to anytime soon, especially not after today “I will” he falsely assures “How is Jungwon?” he rushes away from the topic of your dad, and you don’t seem to notice, smiling at the mention of your little brother.

You play with his fingers “Fine, I think. He’s really impressed by you, y’know? God, maybe he’ll go to law school himself. That’d be good” you go on, and he laughs softly, nodding in acceptance. He feels a sense of pride at your words, but he’d never admit it.

He hums softly in response, unsure of what he should say. He’s never been good with compliments. He just assumes you know he’s grateful, especially it being your brother whom he knew you cherished very dearly “Do you need anything?” he asks, and even though it’s almost midnight, he’s ready to get you anything you want, even if that request entails him going to the other end of the city. It really is serious for him.

You shake your head, guiding his hand onto your stomach. He knows exactly what you're suggesting. And this time, he’s far from opposed.

“You sure?” he whispers, his fingers moving against your skin as you let go of his hand. The softness of his fingertips causes your body to tremble slightly “Are you sure you don't need anything?” he asks again, his voice sultry.

Jay eyes you intently, watching the way you fight back the words. You know that it was a matter of slightly parting your lips and he’d be made fully aware of exactly the thing you need. And he’d enjoy it too much, you knew that. Even in such an exposing position, you still wanted to hold onto that small piece of power you owned.

He unties the strings of your sweatpants, the movement slow and teasing. He toys with it, toys with you. You’re so much smaller against him, so weak and delicate. You embody a cleanliness he can no longer have, and he’s tried so hard not to take that away from you- but he can no longer fight it.

His hand comes dangerously close to the band of your underwear, threatening to slip past it. There’s a small whine that slips off your tongue as he continues to stay close, but nowhere near where you actually need him.

And Jay wants to rip the fabric away, feel on his own skin just how much you want him too, but he finds the sight of you so restrained and at his mercy heavily amusing. You move in his embrace, desperately trying to create some sort of friction, but he quickly stills you “Stop moving. You want this, don’t you?” and when you nod, he squeezes your hip tighter.

He traces the lace of your panties, chuckling as he watches you spread your legs wider for him. Unconsciously, but still, it makes even him impatient “Tell me what you want me to do” his voice is low, breath hot on your skin. His lips leave open-mouthed kisses along the vein on your neck “And I’ll do it”

Your words come out in ragged breaths “I want you to touch me” there’s a small smile that spreads on his lips sas he hears you speak.

Jay moves the loose strands of hair from your ear, his lips barely touching the reddened skin “Here?” he whispers, pressing his fingers into your clothed cunt, feeling the moisture wet his touch. He watches you nod repeatedly, moving your hips forward, trying to prolong the feeling. He laughs, allowing it for just a moment longer.

“Jesus” he mutters, watching you slowly depricate yourself in his arms “So fucking greedy, acting like a bitch in heat” he laughs, rubbing his hand against you, moving back and forth, spreading your lips apart and fucking his fingers into your covered hole. He knows he’ll have to give in soon, the depth going as far as the stretch of the material allows it.

Jay is honestly surprised by the person you’ve morphed into. You had so much to say before, but now, it seems like you’ve shied away from your snarky comments. You seem scared- scared that he’ll stop, leave you when you’re just steps away from the pinnacle of that moment. He likes how compliant you are, and wonders just how far he can push this newly discovered obedience “So, so impatient… Don’t you wanna show me how good you can be for me?”

“I do; I do” you repeated after he stopped any and all movement, his other hand holding you down, preventing you from just doing it yourself “Then fucking do it” he groaned.

He slowly, but surely pulled the fabric away, hissing as his fingertips were met with your raw, pulsing flesh. Your chest rises and falls unevenly, the sequence of sounds continuing as he picks up his pace, each time going further, and further, until two of his digits are fully plunged into your sopping cunt. He takes on a slow tempo, savouring every sound- your legs rubbing against the leather of the couch, the wet slosh of his fingers reentering you, your body trembling in his grasp alongside the ruffle of his shirt, and ultimately, the sweet noises that escape your throat.

Eventually, he adds a third digit, watching you wince slightly at the intrusion. He smiles, watching you take so proudly and wholly whatever he gives you “Good… you’re so good to me” the praise sounds through the room, and echoes through the canyons of your heart, as the strong feeling begins to overcome your senses with an intensity you’ve never known before “Such a sweet girl… Who has touched you like this before? Tell me”

Through a daze, you manage to mutter out a response, signifying to him that there was only one person before him. He nods, a smile decorating his lips, as he finds the answer more than satisfying “You really are clean” the years of keeping yourself in check suddenly seem to have paid off.

He’s impressed with how you’ve managed to sustain the drive he couldn’t even contain for longer than a week at your age. But then again, who would he be if he had saved himself longer?

“Can I..?” you start, embarrassed to say the words. But Jay knows exactly what you mean, and after a moment he nods. Your body slumps against his, tired and ready, as you focus strictly on what he’s giving you.

And even after you come all over his bony fingers, he doesn't stop, the speed increasing as if he wants to, and likes to watch you cry out with a fatigued expression, face twisting from the overstimulation “Just a little more” he mumbled the words a couple times, kissing your shoulder.

Eventually Jay pulls out, smearing the release that paints his fingers all over your inner thighs “You look so pretty like this” he speaks, watching you breathe heavily, with half-lidded eyes that are barely able to stay open.

He gently cleans you up, kissing you on the forehead as he rises back to his feet. He leads you to your bedroom, lying your frail body down in the cold bed. Before he can leave, you speak out to him softly “Stay”

And so he does.

____

3 years ago, for his 35th birthday, he bought land in Cassis, located in the southern part of France. Jake had been the one to convince him to do so, since Jay wasn’t the greatest when it came to spending such large sums of money. He never acquired the habit, most likely because he wasn’t even aware of the things he could possibly buy with the unexpectedly large amounts of money he earned every month.

He had initially imagined living there when he retired- quiet and harmonious (since he certainly wasn’t planning on going back to New York). The months passed, he even received approval to build his dream house on the land, yet still, it was left abandoned as he occupied his mind with everything but actual construction.

Valerie, who worked as an architect, made sketches for him which he honestly loved. The plans portrayed a one story, beautiful mediterranean estate with a large terrace and impressive garden. He could see himself in such a place- blissfully unaware of the horrors that unveil themselves around the world. Disinterested and free.

Two months ago he had decided to call Valerie, and announce to her his willingness to begin construction. At first she didn’t believe him- “Jay, we both know you don’t”- and when he had finally convinced her it was real this time, she referred him to one of the construction companies she and Jake had hired when they were helping her parents build their home.

Last month, assembly began- Jay had gone down to the property two times since, one time alone, one time with you. “This room” he points to a space on the drawing that faces a landscape of mesmerizing limestone cliffs and vast pools of aquamarine water “You could make those pretty things here. All day” he smiles softly, referring to the dresses you always made sure to show him before handing the projects in at the academy.

You’d model for him, as he’d lean back on the couch, giving you instructions “From the back” there’d be a pause, a mischievous grin on his face “Bend down a little for me” he’d say, and of course, with a proud face you’d comply. He knew what he was doing and you knew why you were doing it. Because it would always end the same- he’d hold you down on his lap, watching the pretty faces you’d make while his cock fills you completely.

But again, would it really be yours? He had said it so plainly, so much that it even seemed plausible. It imitated a normalcy that was never yours to begin with, and no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, it never would be.

Last week, the construction manager contacted him, and made him aware of the unstable soil in some areas. It would require additional foundation work to ensure structural stability- that entailed a supplementary plan and extra costs.

The whole process began to get irrationally stressful for him as the build just kept on encountering problems, all while he was promised a smooth and fast completion.

And he doesn’t blame Jake, Valerie, or even the company he hired. He blames himself, for his stupidity, for believing that he could have nice things in life. This has to be something telling him that the nice apartment, luxurious car and plump pay check was enough, all he can get.

He keeps the door to his study slightly ajar. There's two piles of paperwork on the desk and both look terribly gruesome and tiring. He doesn't feel like thinking today- not about the house, not about his work, and not about what he’ll eat for dinner. But he chose this life- he can't complain when everythings he’s ever done was for this exact moment.

With a sigh, and almost childlike tug of the lawsuit that’s been sitting on his desk for a good two weeks now, he begins to go through it. His head is propped up on his fist, eyes lazily scanning the words.

Jay keeps looking over to the papers, plans, magazines on his table- he thinks about Valerie's call where she excitedly asked him about fucking kitchen tiles. To his surprise, he found it oddly entertaining and domestic. Jay Park, a well-known Parisian lawyer, prefers quarry tiles over marble. Revolutionary, truly.

His door creaks open, and he looks up, seeing your head peeking inside of his office. He smiles softly, and nods- his way of telling you to come in.

You close the door upon entering, and take a look around. Nothing ever changes inside here- it’s always messy in an organized way. There’s a woody and musky smell in the air, something that only stays in this same office.

“Come here” he motions you to his lap, eventually closing the file and dropping it into his drawer, for later, of course. Well, he already knows he’ll probably pass it on to one of the associates, who'll see it rather as a blessing than a burden.

“Everything alright?” you ask, watching his face, illuminated only by the yellow lighting of his small lamp. Jay slips off his glasses, tossing them lightly onto the desk. He sighs, and reluctantly, nods “Doesn't seem like it” you add after his confirmation.

“Sweetheart, don’t worry about me” his hand caresses your bare thigh, his touch barely anything. It was so light you could mistake it for something that it surely wasn't.

Your fingers toy with the material of his shirt, undoing two more buttons. His tan skin glistens under the dim lighting, and you notice the mole on his collarbone. You hum softly, hand moving up to his shoulder “Tell me the truth” you plead, and he looks down, trying to somehow put into words the things that suddenly don't seem so troublesome or serious.

“The house, you know, it won't be done soon” he tells, and his expression doesn't change “You shouldn't worry about it. I’ll get it figured out” he adds before you can answer. You wait for a moment, holding your breath, but eventually nod, understandingly.

Jay doesn't share much of his thoughts, not ever, so you know that even if this is only half of his worries, he would never tell you the rest. He cherished your peace over any selfish act of ‘getting something off his chest’. He didn't believe in that and never would.

“I want to help you” you say, hand under his shirt, tracing the outline of his muscles. You run your thumb over his nipples, and he hisses at the sensation. He’s been touched, but never like this. He especially feels that touch go straight to his already hardening cock.

“You do? Then bend over, pretty girl” Jay doesn’t feel like wasting any time. He knows he doesn’t need foreplay or any other form of preparation- you were ready before he even touched you. You came to him for the sole reason of getting fucked, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

With a satisfied grin, you lean your elbows on his desk, turning your head to watch him unbuckle his belt. With a swift motion, the leather piece falls open, and he doesn’t even bother to remove it. He grabs your face, harshly pressing his lips onto your mouth, licking inside it, pushing his tongue against yours, past it, and as far down your throat as it will go. His hands tug at your shorts, yanking them off along with your underwear. The material pools at your knees, and he pulls away from the kiss, eyeing your half naked form.

He plays with the plump skin, groping it, squeezing, slapping it until the spot turns red. He commits to memory how each action elicits a different reaction from you. When he strikes you again, a tear rolls down your cheek and he feels like he could come on the spot, untouched “Such a sweet little thing you are. I could watch you all the time” he coos, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth.

With one hand, he pries off his boxers, while the other caresses your sensitive ass. His fully erected, and leaking shaft springs out, slapping against his lower abdomen. He bites his lower lip at the feeling “Fuck” he groans, jerking himself off, spreading the precum that puddles at his tip along his entire length.

You tug at his arm, whining impatiently “Jay..” he chuckles at your eagerness, finding the willingness almost equally as arousing as your pretty face and body.

You’ve become fully dependent on him- he was your sole provider for everything- a roof over your head, a ride to the academy in the morning, a warm meal, and since he didn’t want you to work, all the money you had was his. And maybe it should bother you, the fact that nothing is truly yours, but it doesn’t. Jay is equivalent to your survival, and you’d make it a great priority to repay him for that.

As he thrusts into you, his cock intruding your tight ass at a ferocious pace, the phone rings.

Through blurred vision, you recognize it. A picture of Jay and your father (presumably taken right before Jay’s departure 20 years ago) stares back at you. His name flashes across the screen, ridiculing you. Jay peels the phone off the table, his thumb hovering over the green button.

“J-Jay… don’t” you mutter, and at that, he cruelly tugs at your hair, causing your head to jerk back, teary eyes staring at his serious expression “Quiet. You don’t want him to hear you, do you?”

You nod, and his finger presses the answer button. Your teeth bite down on your swollen lip, trying to encapsulate any forbidden sound.

A beaming voice finally speaks “Jong! I thought you’d never pick up..”

Jay laughs in such a natural, unbothered way, as if he’s not doing anything wrong, as if your father should have known this would happen. Because, he truly should have. “Life’s hectic” he answers, his best friend act almost too believable.

But how could he ever consider himself a good friend again? After this? He stopped being your fathers friend from the moment you stepped into his apartment, and he should’ve realized it quicker.

“How is she?” your dad asks, and the kindness in his voice is almost insufferable. Jay presses his palm flat on your back, his speed increasing substantially, tone unchanging though.

“Really good. I take care of her well, I think” he answers, and feels himself getting closer. Your father, blissfully unaware, seems to be delighted at his friend's words, thanking him over and over again for his kindness.

You and Jay never had anything in common to begin with. Being a lawyer was his whole life, helping greedy, rich bastards become even richer was the only thing that really defined him. And you were the artistic soul he could never find himself understanding. You were impractical in your work, and he- he relied on a firm law that bent under no circumstances.

Yet still, you managed to have one similarity after all- you were a terrible daughter and he; he was a terrible, terrible friend.

But Jay does take good care of you. He really does take great care of you. All the time. And well, if your father were to find out just how well, you’ll still be a living memory of him that Jay will hold onto.

His sweet, little souvenir.

TAGLIST- @jooniesbears-blog @fancypeacepersona @somuchdard @yoonglestangies @petalsofink @strayy-kidz @thinkinboutbin @miuangel @jjongstar111 @sunooqvrlsx @jaeyunsbimbo @punchbug9-blog @hanibani-707

#enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen imagines #jay x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen jay #enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #jay smut #jay fluff #jongseong x reader #jongseong smut #park jongseong

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meo-eiru · 5 months ago

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Day 5 of Character Trivia Night!

For tonight we have Theo

Theo has a human mother and a cyclops father, though his dad isn't really in the picture as his mom doesn't like to settle down and instead jumps from monster bf to monster bf

Since there aren't any schools for monsters his mom always sent him to human schools, which meant Theo was always around people who did not look like him

His skin is a bit greenish but they usually explain it as a sickness and he always keeps his bangs long to hide his eye, thanks to not having much of a presence as well he was able to go under the radar most of the time

But there was one time in elementary school when he wanted to try playing with the other kids and ended up accidentally showing his eye. His mom quickly moved them to another city and enrolled him into a different school before the news outlets could get their hands on the situation, so by now it's more like a legend of their old town

The experience was quite traumatic for him so now he makes sure to never ever let his eye show in public

Some people who don't know him assumes he's a gamer but he's actually very bad at games

Has no depth perception and wears single lens glasses (glass...?) to make up for it, but they are a bit ugly so he only wears them at home

He actually doesn't have an eyebrow

Due to his quiet and nerdy appearance there are rumors about him being a gamer in class but he's actually really bad at games

That being said he's really into movies, anything sci-fi more specifically. Especially ones about aliens

Maybe because they are often depicted green, or maybe because the focus is on them not being human, but growing up Theo felt a lot of kinship with the aliens he was on the screen and they became a way for him to cope with his own life

He's mostly terrible at cooking but can make fire lasagnas because his mom likes it and it was the one meal she actually taught him

If left alone he would mostly stay alive eating chips and other snacks

He favorite color is green but if he had to choose a second favorite he would say dark purple

The first item of yours he stole borrowed, because of his overflowing love, was the pen you forgot on your desk

Soon he started collecting whatever item he could find of you. Erasers, pencils, napkins, used straws, clothes....

He also likes to take your pictures and hang them on his ceiling and walls, looking at your face as he falls asleep helps him see better dreams

He never intended to make a shrine of you but the items he stole from you and hid in his closet are starting to form the shape of a shrine and he might've added in some fake candle totally not because he wanted to make it more shrine light but because his closet just needed some more light

He's surprisingly good at drawing. He always enjoyed sketching colorful and quirky monster like creatures but lately his notebook has been filled with drawings he made of you. Weirdly enough, unlike everything else he draws, your drawings always look so clean and shiny like he's trying to draw his god

He also likes to write your name over and over again, it helps him calm down when he's too nervous or when his love for you is overflowing and he can't keep it under control

When writing can't cut it anymore he has to lock himself in a quiet bathroom and take care of the trouble under his pants. He wants to have something that belongs to you while doing it and usually even just a pen can do it but if he's lucky he can snatch your used gym clothes without you noticing.... and maybe take them home too if you don't pay attention... and try to spread your smell into his room as much as he can...

He always follows you home to stalk you make sure you're safe so he's familiar with its location and structure

One time he even tried going in thinking no one was home but just when he was walking towards the building he made eye contact with your mom and just ran back before she can say anything

His tear drops are really big, so when he cries it turns into quite a mess. That's why he does his best not to cry but unfortunately he's someone who can cry as easily as a newborn baby

One of his secret fantasies is you catching him while he's stalking you and humiliating him for it. Mostly because he can't think of any other reason for an amazing, incredible and holy person (one might say) like you to approach him

#theo #yandere one eyed monster #yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere stalker #oc #my oc #yandere original character #original character #original yandere

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kathaelipwse · 1 month ago

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Paper Promises & Second Chances | L.Minho

Pairing: Lee Know (Minho) x Female Reader

Word count: 11,250 words | Reading Time: 40-ish mins

Genre: Angst | Romance | Domestic | Slice of Life | Drama

Synopsis: Minho, a heartbroken single father, marries you for the sake of his daughter—nothing more. Once your best friend, now he's cold and distant, weighed down by past betrayal. But when old wounds reopen and soft hands start to heal, both of you are forced to face truths you’ve buried for too long. Can a marriage born from duty bloom into something real—or will it collapse under years of unspoken love and regret?

Author's Note: This one’s for the girls who loved too silently, gave without being asked, and still kept trying—even when it hurt. If you've ever felt like a second choice or a forgotten soul, this story will hold your hand and remind you: your love is not a burden—it’s powerful. Hello my lovies, sorry i was gone for so long, i dont think i can update on daily basis but i will try to stay active and keep updating!!

The marriage, which had been forced on both of y'll by your parents. Lee Know had made perfectly clear, was a strategic alliance. There was no pretense of romance, no whispers of forever exchanged between them. His words, delivered just days before the minimalist ceremony, were a familiar, cutting echo of the past, designed to sever any nascent hope.

"Look, Y/N," he’d begun, cornering you in the hushed elegance of his mother’s living room, where the idea had first been floated. His voice was flat, devoid of warmth, like a winter sky. "Let's be absolutely clear. This… this arrangement. It means nothing to me. Not in that way." His eyes, usually so expressive, were carefully shuttered. "Aera needs a mother. That's it. A stable presence. Understand?"

You’d simply nodded, your throat tight with a pain that was both fresh and agonizingly old. "I understand, Minho," you managed, the formality of his full name a deliberate barrier you hoped he'd feel. A phantom ache from years gone by, now brutally reawakened.

The small civil ceremony had been mercifully brief, a blur of officiant's words and a few polite, distant relatives. Your dress, a simple cream-colored shift, felt less like bridal attire and more like a uniform for a solemn duty. Minho, handsome in a dark suit, had looked impeccably composed, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside you. There was no exchange of rings—only the signing of papers, sealing a fate neither of you had truly chosen. He had offered you a pen, his fingers brushing yours, a fleeting contact that sent a shiver through you, a sensation you immediately suppressed.

"Sign here," the officiant had prompted, pointing to the line.

Minho had signed first, his hand steady. When it was your turn, your signature felt alien, a stranger’s mark. "There," you'd murmured, pushing the papers back.

Minho had barely glanced at you. "Right. So, that's done." His tone had been purely transactional, a stark reminder of his earlier declaration. You were Y/N L/N now, soon to be Y/N Lee, but the surname felt like a costume you were forced to wear, a temporary, uncomfortable guise.

It was a cruel, almost unbearable irony, considering how your paths had once been so deeply intertwined. You and Minho, inseparable, best friends through every grueling university exam, every late-night study session fueled by instant coffee and shared dreams. You’d known the contours of his laughter, the slight furrow of his brow when he was concentrating, the way his eyes would crinkle at the corners when truly amused. He’d known yours too – your nervous habit of twirling a strand of hair, your passion for forgotten novels, the quiet way you processed the world around you. Your lives had been parallel, often intersecting, a comforting constant in the turbulent waters of young adulthood.

Then she had arrived – his ex-wife, the woman who had later shattered his world by cheating on him. Back then, she had been a whirlwind of dazzling smiles and magnetic charm, and Minho had fallen hard. You had watched, a silent, aching observer, as he drifted further away, consumed by a love that, unbeknownst to him then, would ultimately betray him. And just like that, without a backward glance, he’d cut you off.

"She doesn't like how close we are, Y/N," he’d said, his eyes distant, already elsewhere, avoiding your gaze. "It's for the best. You understand, don't you?"

You had swallowed the bitter pill, pretending understanding, while your heart fractured into a thousand pieces. "Of course, Minho. Whatever makes you happy." The lie had tasted like ash. As if your friendship had never existed, as if the years of shared laughter and confidences were merely a phantom, easily erased.

Now, years later, the universe seemed to delight in its twisted sense of humor. Their mothers, ever the masterminds of well-intentioned chaos, had decided your fates, orchestrating this reluctant union. His mother, concerned for Aera's future, and your own, perhaps hoping to see you finally settled. The rationale was simple: Aera needed a mother, and you, being a 'good, stable girl' who knew Minho, were deemed the perfect, convenient solution. You had no real say, swept up in a tide of parental expectations and societal pressures.

A month passed within the confines of the meticulously clean, yet emotionally sterile, house. The initial silence, thick with unspoken resentment and unaddressed pasts, began, almost imperceptibly, to soften. Five-year-old Aera, a miniature shadow constantly at her father's heels, initially shy and reserved, began to cling to you with an unexpected fierceness. She was a delicate thing, all wide, curious eyes and soft brown hair, and beneath her initial reticence, you found a playful spirit longing for connection.

It surprised everyone, especially Minho, who had cycled through countless nannies, each one met with Aera's stubborn, tearful refusal to trust. The child seemed to possess an innate radar for insincerity, sending nannies fleeing with her piercing cries and unyielding resistance. But with you, it was different. Slowly, cautiously, Aera began to unfurl. She’d crawl into your lap while you read her bedtime stories, her small body a comforting weight. She’d shyly offer you her favorite crayon as you sketched together, her hand reaching out for yours, a silent invitation you always accepted. Sometimes, she would just rest her small head against your thigh as you moved through the kitchen, a quiet presence that spoke volumes. Each small gesture felt like a balm to your wounded spirit, a tiny crack appearing in the wall of your resignation.

Even Minho's three furry overlords—Soonie, Doongie, and Dori—the regal, aloof feline trio who usually regarded newcomers with disdainful flicks of their tails, now purred contentedly around you. They would rub against your legs as you walked, settle onto your lap while you watched TV, or even allow you the rare privilege of scratching behind their ears. Minho, ever the doting cat dad, would sometimes pause, a flicker of surprise in his usually impassive eyes, as he witnessed their unusual acceptance.

One evening, he watched as Dori kneaded biscuits happily on your lap. "Huh," he’d said, a rare, almost unreadable sound. "They don't usually… tolerate new people that quickly."

You’d merely offered a small, noncommittal smile, not wanting to break the fragile peace. It was a small validation for you, a quiet acknowledgement that perhaps, you weren't entirely unwelcome in this new, strange life.

A fragile, bittersweet domestic tension began to settle in, a tentative breath of peace in a house built on obligation. The routines of breakfast, school runs, quiet evenings, and shared meals began to form a rhythm, punctuated by Aera's childish chatter and the soft purring of the cats. Minho remained guarded, polite but distant, a phantom in the hallways. "Good morning," or "Did Aera finish her homework?" were the most extensive exchanges. You, in turn, learned to navigate his silences, to exist in the periphery of his life, a role you thought you were accustomed to from your university days, but now carried the weight of a 'paper ring' and a silent promise of nothing. Each day was a tightrope walk between hope and resignation, between the past you couldn't forget and a future you couldn't quite see.

One crisp evening, the enticing aroma of roasted garlic and something simmering on the stove—a rich, savory scent—greeted you as you returned home from errands. The fragrance was a surprising comfort, a small, domestic whisper in the otherwise vast, silent house. It was a fleeting illusion of normalcy, one you clung to with a desperate, almost pathetic hope. Minho, having taken a rare day off to spend with Aera, was meticulously plating dinner in the kitchen. His movements were precise, economical, almost robotic, as he spooned pasta onto plates and arranged small, perfectly cooked florets of broccoli beside them. He wore a simple, dark t-shirt, sleeves rolled to reveal strong forearms, and for a fleeting moment, the sight felt almost normal, a fragile bubble of domesticity you desperately yearned for.

"Dinner's ready," he announced, his voice neutral, not looking up from the plates, his gaze fixed on the task. Aera, who had been quietly coloring at the kitchen island, a small, contented hum escaping her lips as she meticulously colored a unicorn, immediately bounced off her stool, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Yay! Dinner!" she chirped, tugging on his sleeve.

As the three of you sat down at the gleaming, expansive dining table, a quiet hum settled between you. The only sounds were the soft clink of cutlery against ceramic, Aera's soft murmurs to her imaginary friend tucked under the table, and the faint, residual sizzle from the kitchen as Minho finally turned off the stove. You watched Aera pick at her food, her small fork pushing around the vibrant green peas with an air of profound contemplation, as if they held the secrets of the universe, rather than just being, well, peas.

"Aera, sweetheart, just a few bites of your veggies," you coaxed gently, your voice soft, almost a whisper, reaching to help guide her spoon. Your fingers brushed her tiny hand. "They're really good, I promise. Daddy cooked them just for you." You offered her a warm, encouraging smile, trying to make it a game.

But the moment the spoon neared her mouth, a storm erupted. Her small face contorted into a defiant frown, every line of her five-year-old stubbornness etched clearly. She shrieked, swatting your hand away with surprising force, sending the spoon clattering against the plate. "No! I don't want it! I don't like green! It's yucky! I want noodles only!" A solitary pea flew across the table, a tiny green missile, narrowly missing Minho’s plate and landing with a soft plink on the polished hardwood floor.

Minho had been having an impossibly rough week. The significant deal, a sprawling, complex project he had poured months of his life, his intellect, his very essence into, had collapsed spectacularly earlier that day. Not due to his fault, but his company's egregious, sloppy error. He had spent hours trapped in scathing, unforgiving meetings, bearing the brunt of the blame, listening to veiled threats about future career prospects. It had left him with the unenviable task of damage control, a throbbing headache, and a bitter, metallic taste of failure coating his tongue. His patience, already stretched thin by the day's relentless frustrations and the suffocating weight of responsibility, snapped like a dry twig underfoot.

"Aera! Stop that right now!" His voice, usually a soothing balm when speaking to his daughter, cracked with a harshness that made you flinch violently. He slammed his fork down on the table, a sharp, metallic clang that echoed like a gunshot in the sudden silence. "Eat your food! You're five, you need to eat your vegetables! We do not throw food at the table! That's disrespectful!"

The little girl froze instantly, her playful defiance replaced by wide-eyed terror. Her lip began to tremble uncontrollably, a single tear tracing a path down her flushed cheek, before she burst into heartbroken sobs, loud and piercing, echoing off the high ceilings. She looked utterly bewildered by her father's sudden, explosive fury, a silent accusation in her tear-filled eyes, reflecting the shattered innocence of the moment.

"Minho, please," you started, your voice urgent, instinctively reaching across the table, your hand hovering uncertainly between them. You wanted to pull Aera into your embrace, to shield her from his sudden, chilling rage. "She's just a child. She's upset. Let's try to calm her down, maybe make a game of it, or distract her—"

But he cut you off with a sharp, angry glance, his jaw tight, muscles bunched along his jawline. His eyes, usually a soft, warm brown, were now cold, devoid of any recognition, like chips of obsidian. "Stay the hell out of it, Y/N." His words were ice, direct and devastating, each syllable a precisely aimed dagger. "This is between me and my daughter. You’re just some outsider. You don't get to interfere with how I raise her. You don't understand."

The 'outsider' comment hung in the air, heavy and poisonous, coating everything in its bitter taste. It wasn't just a phrase; it was a bludgeon, hitting you squarely in the chest. It was a familiar, painful reminder of your precarious place in this arrangement, a stark, brutal jab at the wound he'd inflicted years ago when he’d first cast you aside. It tore open old scars, reminding you of every moment you’d felt secondary, expendable. But seeing Aera’s crushed face, her small body shaking with quiet, desperate sobs, ignited a protective fire in you, extinguishing the self-pity, pushing aside your own hurt for hers. The anger at his cruel words for you was momentarily overshadowed by the fierce, burning injustice done to her.

You pushed your chair back with a violent scrape that grated against the floor, standing abruptly, your hands clenched into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms. Your voice trembled with the force of suppressed emotion, but it was firm, unwavering, born of a quiet strength he hadn't seen in years. "That is not how you parent, Minho! You’re terrifying her! She's crying because you're yelling, not because she's stubborn! Yelling at her like that will just make her fear you! She’s upset, not defiant, and she needs comfort, not a lecture on discipline after you've scared her half to death!"

His eyes, blazing with a fury that mirrored your own, met yours across the table, a silent, volatile challenge. A vein pulsed visibly in his temple. "Don't you dare teach me how to handle my own daughter! Who are you to tell me how to raise her?! I lost a major deal today, Y/N, I'm stressed beyond belief! She needs to learn discipline! You have no right to interfere!" His fist clenched on the tabletop, his knuckles white against his tanned skin. "You have no idea what it's like to be responsible for everything alone! You have no idea what my life is like!"

And then you yelled back, the dam breaking under the pressure of weeks of unspoken grievances and years of buried pain, the words tumbling out, raw and uncontrolled, laced with venom you didn't know you possessed. "Discipline? Or are you just lashing out because you're having a bad day and can’t control your own temper?! Is that it, Minho?! You’re acting like a stranger to your own child! Then you shouldn't have remarried me if you haven't moved on!" Your voice rose, raw with emotion, tears stinging your own eyes, hot and sudden. "You’re bringing your past hurt, your anger, your failed relationship into this house, and it’s hurting Aera! Your parenting is harsh, Minho, and you don't realize your words are like slow poison! They sting, badly, and they leave scars! On her, and on everyone around you!" Your gaze held his, piercing through his anger to the raw pain beneath. "You have no idea how much your words can sting, how much they can poison someone and lure them to their own death by making them feel like they aren't good enough! for you or for aera or for anyone!"

Aera, meanwhile, had scrambled from her chair, her small body trembling with silent sobs that shook her shoulders. Her face was blotchy, tears streaking lines down her cheeks. She pushed her chair back further with a pathetic squeak and bolted, a tiny, heartbroken blur disappearing into the sanctuary of your room, the soft thud of your room's door closing echoing in the sudden, suffocating silence that descended upon the dining room.

The argument had bled all warmth from the room, leaving only an oppressive, heavy quiet that pressed down on you both. You stood there, chest heaving, the remnants of your outburst vibrating in the air, your body tense, ready for another verbal attack, for the inevitable counter-blow. Minho remained seated, a statue of furious control, his face a mask of stone, his eyes fixed on the empty space where Aera had been, a flicker of something unreadable – regret? shame? – in their depths. The tension was a physical entity, suffocating you both, heavy with the weight of unspoken words and shattered expectations. You couldn't bear to look at him, couldn't bear the lingering echo of his words, the raw, unadulterated hurt they inflicted.

With a final, sharp, ragged breath, you turned, the sound of your own steps unnaturally loud in the silence. You walked, almost ran, to your own bedroom, the slamming of your door echoing the turbulence in your heart, sealing you away from the man you were legally bound to, and the relentless cycle of hurt he so effortlessly inflicted. You leaned against the closed door, your back pressing against the cool wood, tears finally falling freely, hot and unstoppable. The bitter taste of regret mingled with the lingering, agonizing sting of his cruelty, a reminder that some wounds, no matter how old, could always be reopened.

The sharp, insistent ring of the doorbell jolted you awake far too early the next morning. You glanced at your phone—6:45 AM. Too early for anyone, especially after last night's emotional wreckage. Before you could even process it, you heard Aera’s excited squeal from the living room, she was up way early….she had been sleeping besides you for the longest you could remember. Oh no. Not today. It could only mean one thing: Minho’s parents had arrived unannounced.

You quickly splashed cold water on your face, trying to erase the lingering traces of tears and the dark circles under your eyes. As you walked into the living room, a practiced smile plastered on your face, Minho's mother immediately enveloped you in a warm hug. "Y/N, dear! Goodness, you look tired. Minho is still asleep, I assume? He works so hard."

You forced a light laugh, your heart pounding. "Good morning, Eomma. Appa. It's lovely to see you." You subtly glanced towards Minho's closed bedroom door. "Yes, he… he had a very late night at work. I didn't want to disturb him." You avoided eye contact, hoping your feigned cheerfulness would mask the raw fight that had exploded just hours before. Aera, surprisingly, didn't say anything either. She just clung to her grandmother's leg, her gaze briefly meeting yours, a silent pact of secrecy passing between you. Perhaps the shock of her father’s anger had sobered her, or perhaps she sensed the fragile peace you were trying to maintain.

Aera, who had curled up with you in your room last night—a first, a small, comforting victory in the chaos—was now buzzing with excitement around her grandparents. She chatted happily, completely absorbed in their presence, making no mention of her sudden transfer to your bed. You spent the morning attempting to play the perfect host, brewing coffee, preparing breakfast, and engaging in light conversation, all while a frantic energy pulsed beneath your calm exterior. Minho remained conspicuously absent. Aera, after failing to rouse him, bounced off to join her grandparents in the kitchen.

Later, as the day wound down and the evening shadows lengthened, Minho’s mother made a casual remark. "Y/N, dear, Aera will want to sleep with her father tonight, now that we're here. And you'll need your own room, of course. It's only proper." Her words were gentle, but the implication was clear: you would have to sleep in Minho’s room. Your stomach churned. The thought of sharing that space, even platonically, after what had happened, was a fresh wave of agony. You simply nodded, forcing another weak smile. "Of course, Eomma."

You tried to delay the inevitable, helping Aera prepare for bed, tucking her in as Minho’s parents settled into the guest room. Minho was still not home. He had sent a brief, impersonal text earlier: Will be late. Don't wait for me. That was all. No apology, no explanation, just a curt notification.

You lingered in Aera's room until her breathing deepened, then reluctantly made your way to Minho's room. The air felt heavy, charged with his lingering presence, even in his absence. You changed into your sleep clothes, the silence of the large room amplifying the ache in your chest. You climbed into the vast bed, pulling the duvet up to your chin, trying to find a comfortable position on the very edge, as far from his side as possible. You tried to sleep, but the words from last night still festered, raw and stinging, replaying in your mind like a broken record. "You’re just some outsider." They were a poison, slowly eroding your already fragile sense of belonging.

Restless, unable to find solace, you eventually shifted, your arm instinctively reaching for the bedside drawer, expecting your own room's familiar collection of books and a comforting balm. Your fingers brushed against cold metal, then paper. You froze, realizing your mistake. This wasn't your room. It was his. Your hand paused, then curiosity, morbid and irresistible, compelled you forward. You pulled the drawer open slowly.

Inside, beneath a few neatly stacked papers, lay a silver photo frame. Your eyes fell on it, and your breath hitched. It was a wedding photo—Minho and his ex-wife, all smiles and starry-eyed adoration, captured in a moment of pure, unadulterated happiness. He looked so young, so in love. So happy. It was a stark contrast to the distant, weary man he was now. Aera looked so much like Minho, you realized, studying the tiny face in the picture. Her hair color was undeniably her mother’s, a rich, dark brown, but the shape of her eyes, the set of her lips, it was all Minho.

Below the frame, tucked away, were stacks of papers. You carefully picked them up, your fingers trembling. They were old love poems and song lyrics, handwritten in Minho’s neat script, overflowing with devotion and longing. For her. Each word was a sharp jab, twisting deeper into your gut.

It stung, a deep, twisting pain in your chest, radiating outwards. You had kept hoping, against all logic, that Minho might eventually like you, that he would move on from the phantom of his past love, or at least that you could somehow return to the easy closeness you shared as friends. His ex-wife was the very reason Minho had distanced himself from you in university, the reason he’d thrown away your bond. You had always loved him, a secret you guarded fiercely, unwilling to jeopardize a friendship that meant the world to you. And just like that, he had slipped away, as if your bond meant nothing. You hadn't attended their wedding; you just couldn't bear it. You had believed you’d moved on, burying the feelings deep, only to be proven wrong, again and again, with every quiet moment you spent under his roof, every silent hope you nurtured. And now, seeing this proof of his enduring devotion to a ghost, you hated yourself for still liking him, for allowing this agonizing vulnerability, for clinging to the idea that you could ever fill a void meant for someone else. You felt utterly, irrevocably unwanted.

You quietly, meticulously, put everything back, arranging the papers and the photo frame exactly as you’d found them. Tears rolled silently down your cheeks, hot and unbidden, pooling on the pillow. Getting up from the vast, empty expanse of the bed, you walked towards the small couch tucked into a corner of the room. Curling into its cramped space, you wrapped your arms around yourself, with Aera sleeping peacefully in the bed a world away. You hoped Minho wouldn't even realize you were there.

You couldn't sleep. The photo, the poems, his words, Aera’s tears after minho had yelled her like she had commited a crime—it all swirled in a tormenting vortex. Just as the first hint of pre-dawn light filtered through the curtains, the door swung open, and he walked in. Minho.

He didn't notice you immediately. He quickly stripped off his coat, tossing it over a chair, and walked over to the bed, his movements quiet, precise. He bent down, his shadow falling over Aera, and gently pulled her closer, kissing her head. "I'm so sorry, baby i was wrong for yelling at you…i shouldn't have taken out my anger on you," he murmured, his voice a low, raspy apology, filled with a regret you knew was solely for her. You pretended to be asleep, your breath shallow, your heart aching with a pain so profound it was almost physical.

He slowly got up, went for a bath, the sound of the running water a muffled background noise. When he came back, dressed in fresh sleepwear, he laid down beside his daughter, pulling the duvet over them both. His eyes, now adjusted to the dim light, drifted from Aera’s sleeping form to the far corner of the room. He saw your cramped form on the couch. That's when it hit him—right, his parents were here… you were here, not in the bed, but on the couch. A flicker of surprise, then something akin to confusion, crossed his face before he settled deeper into the pillows, his gaze drifting towards his bedside table. The neatly arranged items, the way the drawer had been moved by a centimeter or so… it was clear you had seen something, something he had been wanting to trash but hadn't had the heart to.

He hadn't meant to cause you so much pain. The thought was a weak, pathetic excuse, a whisper in the furious storm brewing within him, barely audible over the roaring self-condemnation. He watched you curled on the couch, a small, desolate shape in the dim, pre-dawn light that filtered through the curtains, painting the room in shades of grey. You looked tired, utterly exhausted, and undeniably, profoundly hurt. This wasn't the superficial fatigue of a long day at the office or a sleepless night; this was the deep-seated weariness of a spirit burdened, a soul bruised by repeated blows. Your posture, hunched and defensive, spoke volumes, a stark contrast to the vibrant, open person he remembered.

He sat heavily on the edge of his bed, the duvet still warm from Aera’s small, innocent body, and his gaze drifted back to the bedside table. The photo frame, the stack of papers. They were exactly as he'd left them, a testament to his own lingering attachment to a past he desperately wanted to erase. Yet, the slight displacement he’d noticed earlier, the tiny shift of a centimeter or two, spoke volumes, a silent accusation. You had opened the drawer. You had seen it all. The wedding photo with his ex-wife, her beaming, false smile a stark contrast to the betrayal that followed. The saccharine love poems he’d poured his naive, foolish heart into for a woman who had ultimately shattered it into irreparable pieces. The relics of a past he couldn't bring himself to truly discard, not because he still loved her, but because the searing pain, the bitter rage, and the profound, crippling insecurities born from that very betrayal, still clung to him like a suffocating shroud. They were a part of him now, an ugly, festering wound that refused to heal.

He hadn't loved her in years, not in the way he'd once foolishly believed was love. That emotion had curdled into resentment and a deep-seated fear of vulnerability. But the betrayal had warped him, convinced him that he was inherently unlovable, perpetually destined to be left, replaced, or cheated on. And those festering insecurities had, time and again, found an easy target, lashing out at the reader. A wave of shame washed over him, a cold, bitter tide.

He remembered the day in university, years ago. His ex-wife, then his dazzling girlfriend, had demanded he cut ties with his 'too-close' female friend. He’d barely hesitated, blinded by infatuation and his own desperate need for validation. "Just… fuck off, Y/N," he’d snapped, his own fear of losing his new, captivating love overriding every ounce of loyalty and genuine affection he held for his best friend. He’d seen it then, the instant flash of pain in your eyes, a bright, hopeful spark extinguished as if by a sudden gust of wind, replaced by a quiet, heartbreaking emptiness that had never truly returned. He’d justified it then, told himself it was for the best, that you should move on. Now, looking at you on the couch, he knew he had been a coward.

And last night. His words had been even worse, sharper, more venomous than anything he’d ever directed at anyone, let alone you. Calling you an 'outsider,' demanding you to 'stay the hell out of it.' His own fury, fueled by his humiliating professional setback, had found an outlet in the one person who offered him solace. He had failed you as a friend, as a husband, as a human indeed. The thought settled in his gut like a lead weight. He was disgusted with himself, truly, profoundly disgusted.

The woman who stood by him, who patiently navigated his moods, who had, without a single complaint, taken on the arduous role of Aera’s mother, was someone he had consistently, cruelly, pushed away. The irony was suffocating. The fact that she still kept trying, kept all the mundane details of their shared life running smoothly, kept a calm and happy demeanor for Aera’s sake—it was a testament to your quiet resilience, a quiet strength that shamed him. It twisted his gut with a familiar, burning guilt. You were suffering, he realized with a sickening lurch, probably worse than he could ever imagine, because you were always so acutely insecure about your whole existence.

He remembered your quiet struggles in university, the way your family had subtly, constantly, undermined you, with their casual taunts and backhanded compliments. "Why can't you be more like your sister, Y/N? She always knows what she wants." Or, "You're so quiet, are you even trying? You need to speak up more, get noticed." They had been like tiny, insidious cuts, wearing away at your self-worth, systematically eroding your confidence. You had been living in a subtle hell of constant comparison and criticism, and he, in his blind rage and self-pity, had only added to it. He had taken you out of one toxic environment and, in his arrogance, put you back into the same nasty rhythm of his own rage and insecurities, constantly reminding you that you are just here as a replacement, a convenient solution, never truly desired or loved for herself. He had broken the one promise he’d silently made to himself: to protect you. Just to be broken in the worst manner and hurt you in the worst way one could have even imagined.

The image of your small, trembling body on the couch, a faint tremor still visible in your sleeping form, merged with the memory of Aera's terrified sobs from last night. His words, he realized, were like acid, slowly eating away at the very foundations of your spirit, leaving you hollowed out and fragile. He had sworn to himself, silently, during their university days, that he would never make this girl cry. He had sworn to protect that quiet, hopeful spark in your eyes, the gentle kindness that drew others to you. And now, he was the one extinguishing it, systematically, with every cruel word, every cold shoulder. He had fallen in love with the manipulation, the subtle coercion from the woman he'd once 'loved,' who had asked him to cut ties with his best friend and probably the only person who wad truly ever seen him fully. He had been so blind, so consumed by his own wounded ego after being cheated on, that he hadn't seen the true, unwavering kindness, the steadfast loyalty, that had always been right in front of him, waiting patiently.

He knew, with a gut-wrenching certainty, that he didn't deserve you, you deserved something he had touched and lost in a matter of seconds. He was a mess, a twisted knot of anger, self-loathing, and unresolved trauma. He had used your gentle presence, your unwavering support, your quiet affection, to somehow convince himself he was still good enough, still worthy of someone's affection, even if that affection was born of duty and circumstance. It was disgusting. He was disgusting. Every breath he took felt tainted by his own hypocrisy and cruelty.

He rose from the bed, moving slowly, carefully, his limbs heavy, so as not to disturb you or Aera. He knelt by the couch, the worn fabric pressing into his knees, his heart heavy and aching with a pain that rivaled his own. You were so small, so defenseless in your sleep, your face still etched with the residue of tears, a tear track glistening faintly on your cheek. He gently, carefully, cradled you in his arms, lifting your feather-light body as if you were made of glass. He could feel the slight shudder of your breath against his chest, the warmth of your skin. He laid you on the bed, pulling the duvet over you, watching as you instinctively snuggled into the warmth, finding comfort in the familiar scent of the linens. You looked tired, exhausted, and profoundly hurt. He reached out a trembling hand, brushing a stray strand of hair from your forehead, his fingers lingering, wanting to smooth away the pain he had caused. He remembered their university days and how his callous words had destroyed your spark. He silently vowed to make amends, to somehow, impossibly, bring that light back. He would try, even if he didn't deserve it. He owed you that much. He owed you everything.

The next morning, the air in the house was thick with an unfamiliar quiet, a strained politeness that felt heavier than any argument. Aera, surprisingly bright-eyed and cheerful, announced with a giggle that she would be spending some time with her grandparents. Minho's mother, ever efficient, confirmed the arrangement. "Just for a few weeks, dear," she said, patting your hand. "Aera loves staying with us, and it will give you both some quiet time." The irony was a bitter taste in your mouth. Quiet time. Aera, seemingly having forgotten the previous night's tension, bounced between her grandmother and father, showering them both with hugs. She hugged you too, a quick, trusting embrace that felt like a lifeline. Then, with a final wave, she was gone, her cheerful chatter fading with the closing of the front door.

And just like that, the house had gone silent. Too silent.

It wasn't merely the absence of Aera's lively presence; it was a profound, suffocating quiet that settled into every corner, amplifying the unspoken chasm between you and Minho. The walls seemed to hum with the tension of two people meticulously avoiding each other. The mornings became a carefully orchestrated dance of near misses. You would rise early, perhaps make yourself a quick toast, and then retreat to the small sunroom with a book, hoping to be out of the way. Minho, it seemed, adopted a similar strategy. You'd hear the faint sounds of him getting ready, a cabinet closing, water running, but by the time you ventured into the main living areas, he would already be gone, the lingering scent of his cologne the only proof he'd been there.

Weeks passed, stretching into an agonizing eternity of carefully maintained distance. Three weeks, to be precise. Aera still didn't want to come back, delighting in the endless attention and treats at her grandparents' house. And with each passing day of her absence, the silence between you and Minho grew heavier, thicker, more impenetrable. It became a third entity in the house, a silent, oppressive companion.

You existed like strangers. Not just under the same roof, but in the same emotional space, breathing the same air, yet worlds apart. There were no more shared meals, no accidental brushes of hands in the kitchen, no fleeting glances across the room. You found yourself retreating more and more into your own world within the house. You spent hours tending to the small, neglected garden in the backyard, pulling weeds with a fierce concentration that masked your inner turmoil. You reorganized closets, baked elaborate cakes you never ate, and started learning a new language online or even force yourself to go meet your friends you had made after minho had left you in the university. Anything to fill the aching void, anything to drown out the silence, anything to avoid the man who was legally your husband.

He, in turn, seemed to retreat into his work. You would be asleep when he came home, the faint creak of the floorboards or the distant click of a lock the only indication of his return. And by the time you woke up, he would already be gone, leaving behind only the cold emptiness of the space beside you in the bed, a stark reminder of his deliberate absence.

It annoyed you, this constant, almost theatrical avoidance, but you kept yourself busy. You told yourself it was better this way. Less chance of another confrontation, less chance of his words wounding you again. Yet, beneath the busy veneer, a profound loneliness began to take root, nurtured by the silent, aching void where a relationship should have been. You were married, yes, but you were more alone than you had ever been. The house, once filled with the muted hum of your hopes, now echoed with only the sound of your own quiet suffering, a poignant testament to the unbearable weight of silence.

The quiet, which had initially been a suffocating weight, had morphed into a strange, unsettling companion. Three weeks of this strained existence had passed, each day a blur of work, domestic tasks, and the meticulous avoidance of Minho. He would leave before you woke, return after you slept. The house was a large, elegant shell, echoing with the silence of two souls desperately trying not to collide.

Then, one evening, as you were meticulously organizing the spice rack for the third time that week, Minho walked into the kitchen. He was dressed in a crisp suit, his briefcase already by the door. "I'll be leaving for a business trip," he announced, his voice flat, devoid of any preamble or desire for discussion. "Four days. If you need anything leave a message"

You merely nodded, your back still to him as you rearranged the cinnamon sticks. "Okay," you mumbled, not trusting your voice to betray the tremor you felt. You didn't ask where, or why, or if he’d be safe. He didn't offer. And just like that, with a barely perceptible sigh, he was gone, leaving behind only the lingering scent of his expensive cologne and an even deeper silence.

The first two days of his absence were surprisingly tolerable. You found a perverse relief in the house being truly, unequivocally empty. No more silent dances in the morning, no more listening for the faint click of his key in the lock late at night. You worked on your online language lessons, gardened, read, and even found yourself humming a little as you cleaned. It was a fragile, self-made peace.

But then came the third day.

The silence began to press in, heavier than before. The vastness of the house, usually a comfort, became a cruel, echoing reminder of your solitude. You found yourself pacing, restless, unable to settle into any task. Every shadow seemed to stretch, every creak of the floorboards sounded louder. You missed him. The thought hit you with the force of a physical blow, surprising and sickening. You missed his presence, even his distant, guarded one. You craved the casual background noise of another adult in the house, the faint scent of his coffee from the kitchen, the distant sound of his voice on a call.

You wanted to kill yourself for still craving it, for being such a needy, pathetic idiot. You were a grown woman, independent, yet here you were, consumed by a longing for a man who had made it painstakingly clear he didn't want you. The knowledge that he wouldn't be home for another day, maybe more, felt like a crushing weight.

Driven by an impulse you couldn't control, you wandered into his bedroom. The room was stark, masculine, smelling faintly of him, clean and crisp. Your eyes landed on his walk-in closet, and specifically, on one of his dark grey hoodies, casually draped over a chair. It was the one you always wanted to wear, thick and soft, the fabric looking impossibly comforting.

With trembling hands, you pulled it on. It was absurdly large, the sleeves falling over your hands, the hem reaching your mid-thigh. But it smelled like him. It was warm, retaining a faint residual heat from his body, and in that moment, you desperately wanted to believe it was how his body warmth would feel like, too. It was a pathetic comfort, a desperate mimicry of an intimacy you didn't have. And probably, you thought with a bitter twist, this was how his ex-wife had gotten all the attention, love, and affection you craved like a greedy, needy idiot. The thought was a sharp pang of self-loathing.

That night, you found yourself in his bed, not the couch. The immense space felt both comforting and vast, emphasizing your loneliness. You curled into the center, the soft duvet pulled high, clutching one of his pillows tight against your chest like a lifeline. It smelled of him, of clean linen and his subtle, unique scent. You buried your face in it, and the tears, long suppressed, finally came. You cried. You sobbed your heart out into the pillow, silent, racking sobs that shook your entire body, until your throat was raw and your eyes burned. You cried yourself to sleep, exhaustion finally claiming you, the hoodie a second skin, a substitute for the warmth you desperately craved.

Minho had finished his business early. The deal, against all odds, had unexpectedly pivoted in their favor at the last minute, and he’d caught an earlier flight, arriving back late on the third night itself, eager to finally decompress in the quiet of his own home. He opened his bedroom door slowly, not wanting to disturb anyone, and stepped inside.

He froze.

There, in his bed, was a small, unfamiliar shape. Not Aera. As his eyes adjusted, he saw you, curled up in the center of his large bed, nestled deep in his duvet, your face buried in his pillow. And then he saw it—the oversized dark grey fabric. His hoodie. You were wearing his hoodie, hugging his pillow like a lifeline.

He moved closer, his steps soft, almost reverent. The streetlights cast long, pale shadows across the room, illuminating your form. As he got closer, the light caught your face. His breath hitched. Your eyes were swollen, your nose red and raw, the delicate skin around them puffy. You had been crying yourself to sleep, god knows from how long. The sight was a punch to the gut, a visceral ache that resonated deep within him.

It hurt him, seeing what he had done to you, the silent suffering you endured. The countless promises he kept breaking, the wounds he kept inflicting, and you were still here, still loving him, still clinging to whatever fragmented pieces of him you could find. He wanted to shake you, to tell you to stop this, to tell you he didn't deserve it, that he was a mess, a broken man. But then, a sickening realization dawned. He had been enjoying it. He had been enjoying the attention you had been giving him, the quiet comfort of your presence, the ease with which you handled Aera and the cats, the unspoken adoration in your gaze. He had been a selfish, manipulative bastard, using someone's love for him to grow by himself, to believe he was good enough, to patch up his own gaping wounds….again and agian and AGAIN.

And it had costed you. You had become someone he couldn't even tell was the same happy, bright person who had been his best friend in university. The spark in your eyes, once so vibrant, was now a dull flicker.

He wanted to hold you close, to beg for another chance, to plead for forgiveness. He knew, with a certainty that shamed him, that you were too forgiving, too kind, too good. You would just say yes. He knew he didn't deserve your kindness, your patience, your affection. He was a monster who had systematically broken the one person who still saw something good in him.

Slowly, gently, he lay down beside you, careful not to disturb your sleep. He didn't pull you closer, didn't dare to. He simply lay there, facing your back, his arm tentatively reaching out to rest beside you, not touching. Good lord, he was an idiot a fucker to have used you in such a twisted manner to heal himself.

You woke up slowly, disoriented, a soft warmth enveloping you. For a moment, you thought you were still dreaming, wrapped in the comforting illusion of his arms from your tear-soaked sleep. Then, a shocking realization jolted you into full awareness. You were in Minho’s bed, not the couch. Your head was tucked against a solid chest, and an arm was draped loosely, possessively, around your waist. His scent, still lingering from the hoodie, was now undeniably close, warm and real.

Panic seized you. Your eyes flew open, wide and disbelieving. Had he come back? Had he… had he seen you? The thought of him witnessing your vulnerability, your desperate craving for comfort, sent a fresh wave of humiliation through you. You hadn't asked him if wearing his clothes, touching his stuff, was okay. You were an intruder, caught in the act. Your breath hitched, and your body went rigid, every muscle tensing, preparing for his reaction, for the cold dismissal, the cutting words.

Minho, who hadn't slept a wink, had felt the subtle stiffening of your body against his. He knew the exact moment you woke up, the slight intake of breath, the sudden rigidity that replaced your earlier pliancy. He kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, bracing himself. Then, he opened them, his gaze falling on the top of your head nestled under his chin. He felt your silent panic, the rapid thrum of your heartbeat against his chest.

He pulled you infinitesimally closer, a gentle, reassuring movement. His voice, a low, husky whisper, barely audible, broke the suffocating silence. "Hey," he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. "You're all good. Just… breathe." He didn't offer an explanation for his presence, or yours, simply the quiet comfort of his voice. He ran a hesitant hand down your arm, a light, soothing touch designed to calm.

You didn't move, still rigid, suspended between fear and a fragile, desperate hope. His arm remained around you, firm but not constraining, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. The world outside the duvet felt distant, irrelevant. For a fleeting moment, a dangerous, intoxicating part of you wanted to melt into his embrace, to lean into the warmth, to let the exhaustion finally claim you fully.

He was about to say something more, something perhaps apologetic, perhaps even a confession of his own turmoil, when the shrill, insistent ring of his phone shattered the fragile moment. It blared from his bedside table, a jarring intrusion into the hushed intimacy of the morning.

He sighed, a deep, exasperated sound, and reluctantly loosened his hold on you. "Duty calls," he muttered, the warmth instantly draining from his voice as he pulled away. He reached for the phone, his body turning away from you, the brief spell broken as quickly as it had formed. The sudden absence of his warmth left you feeling cold and exposed. You quickly rolled to your side, turning your back to him, pulling the duvet tighter around you like a shield, pretending to still be asleep.

The conversation was brief, clipped, all business. You heard snippets: "Yes, the Q3 report… confirmed… by noon… I understand I will be there." By the time he hung up, the moment was lost. He got out of bed, the mattress shifting slightly. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, willing him to leave, to disappear, to give you space to process what had just happened, what hadn't happened. He probably thought you were still asleep, and you desperately hoped he did. You heard him move around the room, the faint rustle of clothes, the opening and closing of drawers as he prepared for his day. He didn't speak again. Eventually, the click of the bedroom door signaled his departure.

You waited until the house was utterly silent before allowing yourself to fully breathe, tears silently tracing paths down your temples into your hair. The weight of what had just happened—the almost-moment, the broken spell, the lingering scent of him on the sheets—was almost unbearable.

Another week passed. Aera returned home, bringing with her the familiar, welcome sounds of childish laughter and bustling energy. The house, once again, hummed with a life that wasn't entirely desolate. Her presence was a comforting buffer, a shield against the suffocating quiet that still lingered between you and Minho.

But despite the return of Aera's vibrant energy, the two of you didn't talk. Not about that morning, not about the argument, not about anything that truly mattered. It was almost as if it had been entirely forgotten, a nightmare you had both silently agreed to erase from your shared consciousness. The polite, superficial exchanges resumed: "Did Aera eat her breakfast?" or "Are you picking her up from school today?" The facade was perfectly maintained for Aera's sake, a fragile peace treaty built on unspoken rules and avoided truths.

One afternoon, a faint, acrid smell drifted through the house. You followed it to the backyard, to the small, ornate fire pit that Minho sometimes used for grilling. He was standing over it, his back to you, watching something burn. As you approached, you saw the remnants of ash, and then, a corner of paper that hadn't quite caught fire. It was a faded photograph.

Your breath hitched. Your eyes widened as you recognized the faint outline: the blurred faces of Minho and his ex-wife, her long hair, his joyous, open smile. He was burning the photo. And as the flames consumed the last tangible pieces of his past, you noticed other fragments among the ashes – charred remnants of paper that looked suspiciously like old love poems. The ones you had found in his bedside drawer.

Your heart gave a strange, painful lurch. He was doing it. He was finally letting go. A part of you felt a quiet, fragile hope ignite, a timid flame in the vast emptiness of your despair. But another part, the one that had been repeatedly wounded, felt a deep sense of trepidation. What did it mean? Was this for you? Or just for himself?

He didn't acknowledge your presence, didn't turn around, didn't offer an explanation. You watched him for a long moment, the smoke curling into the sky, carrying away the ashes of regret, the remnants of a life that had wounded them both. You never questioned his actions, never asked him what he was burning, or why. You didn't want to hear something which would hurt you again, something that would dismantle the fragile, almost-peace you had managed to reconstruct. So you simply stood there, watching the smoke rise, and then quietly turned and walked back inside, leaving him alone with the ghosts he was finally trying to lay to rest. The silence between you, once again, remained unbroken.

The fragile peace, or rather, the carefully maintained truce, held for another week. Aera's cheerful presence filled the house with a comforting background hum, a much-needed buffer against the vast silence that still stretched between you and Minho. You went about your days, keeping busy, burying any stray thoughts or lingering aches beneath layers of routine.

One afternoon, a subtle ache began to prick behind your eyes. By evening, it had blossomed into a dull throb, and a shiver ran through you despite the comfortable indoor temperature. You felt a familiar tickle in your throat, the tell-tale signs of a cold, or worse, something more significant. You reached for the thermometer in the bathroom cabinet, a small, discreet gesture. The digital display blinked back a concerning number: 38.7∘C. A fever.

You pressed your hand to your forehead, confirming the heat radiating from your skin. Just a little cold, you told yourself, forcing a smile. I can push through this. You certainly weren't going to mention it to Minho; the less attention, the less interaction, the better. You swallowed a couple of over-the-counter pills, hoping they would dull the symptoms, and tried to act as if nothing were amiss. You went about your usual evening tasks, helping Aera with her bath, reading her a bedtime story, the words blurring slightly on the page.

Aera, however, with the keen observation skills only a child possesses, had noticed. As you were tucking her in, she had seen you briefly hold the thermometer, her small eyes widening with concern. "Mama, are you okay?" she’d whispered, her brow furrowed.

"Of course, baby," you’d lied, stroking her hair. "Just a little tired."

Later that night, long after you had put Aera to sleep and Minho had finally returned home from work, the fever began to climb. You felt a wave of dizziness, your limbs heavy, your head swimming. You had been trying to prepare a late dinner, a simple meal you barely had the energy to consider, when the room started to spin. The counter felt cool against your forehead as you leaned into it, trying to steady yourself.

Minho, having just stepped out of the shower, walked into the kitchen, drawn by the unusual quiet and the scent of… nothing cooking. He found you there, slumped against the counter, your head bowed, your body practically radiating heat. The prepared ingredients for dinner sat untouched on the counter, a silent testament to your sudden incapacitation.

His heart leaped into his throat. "Y/N?" His voice was sharp, laced with an immediate, raw fear. He rushed to your side, placing a hand on your forehead. Your skin was burning, dangerously hot. "God, Y/N, you're burning up!"

He quickly gathered you into his arms. You were surprisingly light, limp and unresponsive. You didn't stir, your eyes remaining closed, your breathing shallow and ragged. Panic, cold and sharp, seized him. He quickly carried you to his room, his strong arms cradling your feverish body as if you weighed nothing. He laid you gently on his bed, the cool sheets a stark contrast to your inflamed skin.

The next few hours were a blur of frantic worry for Minho. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet for fever reducers, then raced to the kitchen for a damp cloth, pressing it to your forehead. He called a doctor, explaining your symptoms, his voice tight with concern. Your fever wasn't going down; if anything, it seemed to be climbing. You hadn't woken up once, remaining unresponsive to his worried murmurs, to the cool cloths, to the medicine he managed to coax past your lips.

He watched you, helpless, as the night wore on. The worry was a physical ache in his chest, a suffocating weight that threatened to consume him. He sat by the bedside, his hand constantly on your wrist, checking your pulse, feeling the erratic beat beneath his fingers. He pulled a chair close, leaning his head against the mattress, his arm still outstretched, his fingers resting lightly on your wrist. He felt consumed with guilt, with a crushing sense of inadequacy. He had been so cruel, so blind, so caught up in his own pain, and now you were suffering, and he felt utterly powerless. The whole night he went around with that, watching your shallow breaths, praying for the fever to break. He fell asleep there, slumped by the bed, his hand still on your wrist, a silent, desperate vigil.

You woke up slowly, disoriented, a strange, profound sense of peace washing over you. The crushing ache in your head was gone, replaced by a dull, persistent throb, and the oppressive feverish heat had finally subsided, leaving a faint chill on your skin. The world wasn't spinning anymore, and the frantic pounding in your temples had calmed to a steady rhythm. You realized you were in Minho’s bed, the familiar scent of him comforting you, the soft duvet tangled around your legs. A soft weight was pressed against your side, and a quiet, rhythmic breathing filled the space next to you.

You opened your eyes fully, blinking against the gentle morning light filtering through the window. Your gaze drifted downwards, and your breath hitched, catching in your throat. Aera was curled up on Minho's chest, her small head nestled against his shoulder, sound asleep, her little hand gripping his shirt. And Minho himself, slumped awkwardly in the chair he had pulled bedside, had fallen asleep, his head resting against the mattress at a painful angle, his arm still outstretched, his hand resting lightly on your wrist. He was holding your pulse, a silent, desperate vigil from the night, a physical tether to your fading life force.

A soft, almost imperceptible warmth, fragile as a butterfly's wing, spread through your chest. Subconsciously, instinctively, your free hand lifted, your fingers gently tracing the lines of his disheveled hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. It was a tender, unthinking gesture, a quiet offering of comfort to the man who had tormented you, yet had stayed by your side all night. Your touch was feather-light, almost a whisper, yet it was enough.

Minho stirred, groaning softly, a deep, tired sound. His eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, then snapped into sharp focus as they landed on you. His gaze was raw, vulnerable, etched with exhaustion and profound relief. He sat up abruptly, his earlier weariness instantly forgotten, his hand tightening almost painfully on your wrist, checking your pulse again. He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against yours, a frantic urgency in his actions. "Y/N? God, you're awake! How are you feeling? Are you okay? Your fever—" His voice was rough, trembling with a fear that startled you.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning your face, relief warring with something fierce and uncontrolled – a desperate need, an unmasked terror. "You scared me half to death, Y/N! Do you understand? To death! Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me you were sick? Why do you always… why do you always keep it to yourself until it's like this?" He repeated, his voice raw, thick with emotion, a startling vulnerability you hadn't heard in years. He put Aera down gently beside him, careful not to wake the child, and then pulled his chair closer, closer than it had been in weeks, his gaze locked on yours, searching, pleading. "You were burning up all night. I couldn't get your fever down. You didn't wake up once, Y/N. Not once."

You listened, surprised, a faint, almost disbelieving smile touching your lips. His scolding wasn't harsh or angry; it was laced with a desperate worry, a loving concern that felt foreign, unsettling, almost painful in its unexpectedness. It felt like a phantom limb, an emotion you had long since amputated from your expectations of him. "Why do you care now, Minho?" you mumbled, your voice still a little hoarse from the fever, weak but steady. You couldn't digest that he was worried for you, for your well-being, not just your utility. It felt alien, after so many years of being secondary, of feeling like a burden, a convenient solution. "Don't worry, I won't die on you. I have Aera to look after… the cats too. Someone has to make sure they're fed and get their daily cuddle quota. I'm useful." You tried to make it light, a deflection, implying your value lay only in your utility, in caring for others. It felt foreign to even believe anyone cared at all for her, for you, the person.

Those words hit him. Hard. The casual self-deprecation, the quiet resignation in your voice, the implication that your life only had value through serving others – it was a blade twisting in his gut, a direct reflection of his own cruel words that had sculpted this very mindset in you. His expression crumpled, the fragile control he'd maintained all night finally shattering. The worry that had been consuming him, coupled with the guilt that had been eating him alive, erupted into a torrent of self-loathing.

"Don't say that again, Y/N," he whispered, his voice cracking, eyes suddenly glistening with unshed tears, betraying the storm within. He took your hand, pulling it to his lips, pressing a desperate, almost bruising kiss to your knuckles, as if trying to brand you with his remorse. "Don't you ever speak of death again. Don't you ever say you don't matter. God, Y/N, I'm a dick. I'm a complete and utter bastard. I treated you like trash, like you were nothing but a convenience. I'm disgusted with myself. I'm so messed up, so fucked, a complete and utter mess." He pulled his hand away, running it through his hair, tugging at the strands, his knuckles white. "My past… it’s poisoned me. It’s made me blind. I'm so broken… and I love you, Y/N. I love you in the most twisted, messed-up way, because I’ve hurt you so much, and you still… you still look at me like this. I don't deserve you. You should just go away, leave me. Don't accept me or forgive me. I don't deserve it."

He was unraveling, the carefully constructed facade of indifference crumbling before your eyes, revealing the raw, broken man beneath. He was caught in a whole self-hate web himself, you realized, his own insecurities, his past betrayals, his deep-seated fear of being abandoned again, had convinced him that no one could ever truly want him, that he was unworthy of love that he was probably someone who would never be wanted or be desired for the man he is and that maybe he needed to be better and better and just better. He needed to save himself from that dark prison, but he was shattering right now, right in front of you, bleeding out all his pain.

Your heart ached, a different kind of pain, a profound, sympathetic pang for his profound brokenness. He wasn't the monster you’d painted him to be in your anger, not entirely; he was a man consumed by his own demons, suffocating under the weight of his unhealed wounds. You reached out, your hands cupping his face, feeling the warmth of his skin, the tremor beneath your fingertips. Your thumbs gently stroked his cheeks, wiping away the single tear that had escaped his closed eyes.

"Breathe, Minho," you murmured, your voice soft, steady, a stark contrast to his despair, a soothing balm against his raw edges. "Breathe deep. I am not going anywhere." You held his gaze, willing him to believe you, to see the sincerity, the unwavering truth in your eyes, to understand that your presence was a choice, not an obligation. "Not now. Not ever. We'll figure this out. Together."

A small, teary smile graced your lips. "You were hurting, and you lashed out. I understand. It doesn't make it right, but I understand."

He searched your eyes, disbelief battling with a desperate hope. "You… you forgive me?"

"I forgive you, Minho," you whispered, your heart aching with a mixture of relief and a new, fragile kind of joy. "But you have to forgive yourself too. And we have to talk. Really talk, this time."

He nodded, a silent, profound promise in his eyes. Slowly, tentatively, he leaned in. His gaze dropped to your lips, seeking permission. You gave it, a slight nod of your head. He closed the small distance between you, his lips touching yours gently, tentatively at first, a soft exploration. It was a slow, healing kiss, a whisper of understanding and forgiveness, not fiery passion, but a quiet, profound connection. He pulled you closer, his free hand moving to cup the back of your head, deepening the kiss, a gentle affirmation, as if tugging you fully into his orbit, finally bridging the chasm that had separated you for so long. You tugged softly on his hair, responding with every ounce of the love you’d kept hidden for so long.

Just as the kiss deepened, a small, sleepy voice broke the spell. "Ewwww, Daddy! Leave Mama!"

You both sprang apart, startled, eyes wide with mortification. Aera stood in the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes, her face a comical mask of disgust at your unexpected display of affection. The sudden, raw intimacy was instantly replaced by a wave of embarrassment. Minho’s cheeks flushed a deep red, and you couldn’t help but giggle, the sound bubbling up from deep within you, light and free.

Minho quickly scooped Aera up, pulling her into a tight hug, his eyes still sparkling with a newfound lightness. He walked over to you, gently kissing your forehead. "I love you, baby," he murmured, his gaze warm and direct, full of a promise that went far beyond mere convenience.

You smiled, reaching out to stroke Aera's hair, your heart overflowing. "…I too love you, dummy… both of you."

Aera, now thoroughly distracted by being held, beamed up at you, her face alight. "Love you too, Mama!!" she declared in a cute, loud tone, her little arms wrapping around your neck.

Minho chuckled, a genuine, unrestrained sound that echoed happily in the room, a sound you hadn't heard from him in years. You joined in, your own laughter light and unburdened. The last remnants of the scar between you dissolved, replaced by a warmth that felt like a new beginning. Their new beginning began—together, this time, with an open heart, and with love.

THE END

920 notes · View notes

lowkeyerror · 6 months ago

Text

Instant Attraction

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 11.5k

Notes: Stepmom!Wanda, pining, masturbation, kissing, thigh riding, cheating, mommy kink, lmk if there's anything else,

Summary: Your dad calls you home from college unable to afford for you to dorm. He doesn’t let you know that in the time you were gone, he had gotten married. When you meet his wife Wanda, you're instantly attracted to her. That attraction doesn't seem so one sided.

An: Could be persuaded to write another part... after I finish my request

Masterlist

You grew up in a single-parent household. Your dad spent most of his time at work, trying to provide you a better life. You could never hate him for that. Your mother, she decided that motherhood wasn’t for her when you were around 5. She left one night and never came back.

You weren’t a very social kid. You had a few friends, but no real affinity for going out. There was a preference on your side of things to stay in, watch movies, and play games. Even when you grew your interest stay the same.

There were times were your father nearly forced you out of the house, just so he could see the sun touch your skin.

You weren’t the smartest kid, but you weren’t an idiot either. You took your average grades and went to community college securing yourself a general AA before you decided to transfer to a Cal State University. Though your father originally paid for you to dorm, he mentioned that it was a bit expensive.

So next semester you’d be commuting between home and school. Honestly, you’d only dormed because your father had pushed for it in the first place. He’d thought it’d be a good opportunity for you to branch out.

Your roommate, Kate was pretty cool, but in actuality she was a bit of a loser just like you were.

“Back so soon Y/n L/n?”

The thick accent made a smile tug at the ends of your lips, “What can I say, I missed the scariest neighbor on the block. Who’s going to tarnish your hardcore image if it’s not me, Lena?”

You and Yelena had grown up together, she’d been your neighbor for as long as you could remember. One of the few people that you’d let into your social circle.

“I’m back to stay. My dad told me dorming was too expensive, so I get to come back home.”

Yelena laughs lightly, “I bet it’s out of his range now since he’s caring for a woman and her children .”

You look at her dumbfounded. Slowly the laughter stops and the smile disappears from her face.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you not know?”

Her eyes are wide as she stares at you.

“Know what Yelena?”

She begins to sputter, “Holy shit, what kind of father doesn’t tell his daughter this things?”

You grab her by the shoulders and shake her a little, “What kind of things, Yelena? Would you just tell me?”

“Y/n… you’re father. Sometime near the beginning of your semester, he got married.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head, “He did what?!”

“Her name is Wanda, she’s got 2 sons, twins.”

You open and close your mouth a few times. Laughter builds from inside of you and before you know it, it’s spilling out, “Good one Lena, you almost had me there. My father, married. Jesus Christ, this is why I don’t have too many friends.”

“Y/n, I’m serious.”

“Sure you are, now help me take some of this in the house, since you’re here,” you grab a bag from your trunk, shoving it into the blonde’s hands.

You don’t fumble around looking for your keys, instead opting to ring the doorbell. You told your dad you were coming this weekend, and he said he’d be home to let you in.

“Y/n, I’m really not lying about the marriage,” Yelena nudges you as you wait for the door to open.

You roll your eyes, “Even if I did believe you, what poor woman would marry my father?”

You ring the doorbell again, becoming impatient with waiting.

“Red head, green eyes, mother of 2 kids but you can’t tell from her body. She honestly a really attractive woman, don’t know how he did it,” Yelena goes into the details.

You laugh a little more, “This hypothetical woman sounds like my type. Maybe I could steal her from him.”

Yelena joins in on the laughter, “Not with your inability to speak to women.”

You glare at her, “Not funny.”

Finally the door opens, except it’s not your dad. It’s a woman with red hair, green eyes, a body that definitely doesn’t look like she had two kids. You can’t help but gawk at her.

“You must be Y/n, I’m Wanda. Your father told me to welcome you in, he’s working, but he’ll be back soon.”

“Hi, Mrs. Maximoff,” Yelena spoke with a smirk on her face.

“Yelena, it’s good to see you again. Helping Y/n with her bags?”

Yelena nods, “She needs all the help she can get.”

You shove the blonde while maintaining your gaze on the redhead, “You married my dad?”

She laughs at the disbelief in your voice, “Yes, I did sweetheart. Is that alright with you?”

You’re at a loss for words when you hear her call you sweetheart, “I um… I’m going to head to my room.”

You rush into the house and up the stairs past the red head. Yelena offers the woman a bright smile as she trails behind you a much slower pace.

When the blonde enters your old room she finds you pacing back and forth. Your teeth are sinking into one of your knuckles as you try to get your thoughts going.

“So…”

“You weren’t lying,” you whisper, more to yourself than her.

“I was not.”

You keep pacing, “She has two kids?”

“Yup,” she pops the ‘p', taking a seat on your bed.

You pull out your phone to call your dad. The phone rings, so long that you almost hang up.

“Hey kid, what’s going on?”

You feel your anger growing at his relaxed tone, “ I just got home… and there’s a woman in our house. A woman that Yelena told me that you are married to! Dad, what the fuck? When did you get married? Who is this woman? When did you start dating? She has kids?”

“One question at a time Y/n, please.”

You scoff over the phone, “No, you’ve been lying to me for months now, possibly longer. I deserve the truth.”

You hear him sigh over the phone, “You’re right. I wanted to tell you, but I just didn’t know the right time. Wanda and I had been dating for almost 2 years, I didn’t want to introduce you two before I was sure she was the one.”

“Well technically you still haven’t introduced us. You were supposed to be here today.”

He sighs again, “I know kid, but work called last minute. I know I should’ve been there for this, and I’m fucking it up, but I swear Wanda is amazing, you just have to get to know her.”

“When did you get married?”

“A week after you left, it was… spontaneous. We ended up at courthouse and next thing I know, I’m Mr. Shawn Maximoff.”

You furrow your brow, “You took her last name?”

“It sounds cooler,” he concedes.

It does sound cooler so you don’t argue with him.

“I can’t believe you kept this from me. We’re supposed to be in this together. Thick as thieves, I have your back and you have mine, but you’re lying to me about things this important,” you sit on your bed next to Yelena.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to I promise. How about I come home right now, and we can talk about it in person?”

“That’s a start,” you relent.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon, love you.”

You let out a sigh of your own, “Love you, bye.”

When you hang up the phone, your head lands on Yelena’s shoulder. She pulls you into her side, rubbing your shoulder for comfort.

“There, there my friend. I’m sure everything will work out fine between you and your father. If not, you could always go with the plan of stealing Wanda away from him.”

You push her away from you, “Not funny.”

Yelena raises her hands in surrender, “It was just a suggestion.”

“Help me unpack,” you begin to unload your belongings.

Yelena deflates, but helps you regardless. When you’re done you can hear a car pull up in the driveway.

“Looks like your dad’s home.”

“Great.”

Yelena starts making her way to your bedroom door, “I love you, but I am not staying for whatever talk is about to transpire.”

“Fair,” you follow her to the front door.

“Last thing, will you be calling her mommy because-"

You open the door and push her through it, “Goodbye, Yelena.”

Your dad walks into the frame, chuckling at the scene. He waves to your friend, “Goodbye Yelena.”

She waves back, “Bye Shawn, bye Y/n.”

He closes the door behind him. Your dad turns to you and opens his arms. As upset as you are with him, you can’t deny him the hug. You wrap your arms around him, and he squeezes you tightly.

“Believe it or not, I really missed you kid.”

“Enough to get a whole new family,” you shot back him.

“That’s fair, let’s talk in the back.”

You agree, but you don’t make it to the backyard before running into Wanda again.

“Honey you’re home early,” Wanda strides past you and kisses your father.

The sight is strange to you. You knew that your father had dated after your mother, but he never brought anyone home. You had never seen him be intimate with anyone, it felt weird. At least that’s what you think the feeling is.

“I am, I owe Y/n an explanation for some things . So I thought it was best to come home and straighten things out.”

Wanda seems to understand what he’s alluding to, “Alright, while the two of you talk how about I get dinner started.”

They kiss again, and this time you turn away.

“Sounds good, let’s go kid.”

You follow your dad through kitchen and to the backyard. He stops for a second in the kitchen to grab two beers, before continuing outside. The two of you sit on the patio chairs, facing out towards the yard.

He opens both the drinks and hands you one wordlessly. You hate beer, but you’re not turning down this moment with your dad.

“I was lonely for a long time when your mom left Y/n. I wanted to unpack those feelings, but there was one feeling that I felt more than loneliness and that was fear. Fear that I wouldn’t be able to take care of you and that someone would take you away. There was nearly 10 years that I pushed those feelings of loneliness down, to focus on you, on us. It was what I supposed to do and I don’t regret it. I know I wasn’t always there for you in the way you needed me to be, but just know I was always thinking about how I could be better for you.”

He stops to take a swig of his beer, “Eventually, once I thought that you were old enough, I started dating. Nothing really stuck until I met Wanda. It was a chance encounter at some coffee place, she’d just had finalized her divorce. I wasn’t sure about it, but I also just couldn’t let her go without giving it a shot. Low and behold a shot turned into 2 years.”

You take a large gulp of beer, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared. I didn’t know how you’d react. We don’t really talk about your feelings about your mom, I just didn’t want you to think- that I was trying to put someone in that spot for you."

“I understand that feeling, but I would’ve like to meet her before you know, you got married.”

“It was so just such a quick decision. That we were already married before I realized that I fucked up. There wasn’t a ceremony or anything,” he explains.

You drink some more, “But it’s been months dad. You know I thought Yelena was lying to me in the driveway when she was saying something about a wife and 2 kids.”

He looks into his lap, “The longer I waited, the harder it got. I felt like a kid who was going to get scolded, I didn’t feel like I had the right words. I still don’t think I do. ‘Hey sport, so I’ve been seeing someone for 2 years and I got married how’s your first week of college going’.”

You laugh, “I guess I can see where you’re coming from, but I don’t want to be left in the dark like this ever again.”

“Yes mam,” he salutes you. “So how was your first semester? Get into any trouble, join any clubs, get a girlfriend maybe?”

You stop him there, “Pump your brakes, I still have questions about… your marriage. Like where are the two kids?”

“They’re at their father’s house. They usually do two weeks there, two weeks here. I think they might be spending more time with him this summer. Billy and Tommy are great kids, I think you’d get along with them pretty well. They’re into games and stuff like you. You’ll meet them. ”

“I’m assuming they’re younger.”

“15.”

Your eyes go wide, “She has two 15-year-old kids?”

Your dad chuckles, “Yes, she does. Wanda is actually older than me.”

“Bullshit,” you say in disbelief.

“Swear to god, I’m serious. She’s a really cool person once you get to know her.”

You hum, “Well she’s already in the family, so I don’t really have a choice, do I Mr. Maximoff?”

He gets up from his seat, beer bottle empty, “Isn’t your generation supposed to be the progressive one?”

You follow his lead, downing the rest of your drink, “You’re the one giving it negative connotation.”

“Whatever kid, I'm going to change out of my work clothes. How about you see if Wanda needs any help in the kitchen?”

You take in a deep breath, “I’ll do my best.”

He places a hand on your shoulder, leading you back inside, “She’s a nice woman Y/n, she’s not going to bite your head off or anything.”

Once you’re back inside, your dad heads upstairs, while to go towards the kitchen.

“It smells really good in here,” you say entering the space.

“Thanks, I’m trying something new today. Your dad said you’re a bit of a picky eater, but I hope you’ll like it.”

“Between us, I’ve always just said that because dad only knows how to cook 3 things,” you joke, and find yourself smiling harder when you hear Wanda laugh.

“Let me guess, burger, steak, salmon?”

“You survived eating the salmon?”

She laughs even harder, covering her mouth, “There were a few bones, but it was an honest attempt.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” You ask, but you can see that she’s about done with everything.

“Could just get the plates for me, I know they’re right by me, but I have to keep stirring or-”

“It’s no problem, Wanda.”

You cut her off politely. The plates are stashed right above the stove. You come up behind Wanda, who is stirring the food in the skillet. You are taller than her so reaching above her is no problem. The only thing that you are unsure about is standing so close behind her.

Your front is only centimeters away from touching her back. When you reach over her, you think you hear her curse to herself.

“Is everything alright?”

“The food just got me a little, all good.”

You grab the plates and sit them on the counter next to her.

“So Y/n I hear you’re an English major.”

You nod, “I am.”

“I was too back in my day.”

You can't help but shake your head, “You look like you could still be in college.”

You see her blush at your words turning off the stove. You don’t know why seeing her blush makes you feel smug, but it does.

“Oh stop it,” she looks away from you.

“I’m serious, Wanda. I would’ve never guessed you were a mother let alone to two teenagers,” you continue to compliment her.

“A lot of people are surprised when I tell them how old I am,” she admits. “They all say that I look good for my age.”

You catch her gaze, “They should just tell you that you look good. Age is irrelevant.”

“You’re quite the charmer Y/n. I don’t blame them, I’m nearly 50.”

Your eyes go wide, “Wanda, I don’t believe you.”

She laughs, “It’s true, I’m 45.”

“I’d believe you if you said 25,” you’re serious when you speak.

The compliment flusters her, “Could you help me take the plates to the table?”

You grab 2 of the 3 plates sitting them at the table. You would’ve thought that Wanda would’ve set her plate next to your dad, but instead she sits next to you.

“You can dig in when you’re ready, no need to let the food get cold waiting for your dad.”

You take her words to heart and begin eating. After the first bite you find it impossible to stop. It tastes as good as it smelt while cooking. You could cry at the home cooked meal. Ramen packets and fast food could not compare. You had been prepared for a burger that your dad made or to go out for dinner, but this was better than you could’ve expected.

“I take it, you like it,” amusement present in her voice as she watches you devour the food.

“I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long time and if I’m bring honest they never tasted like this.”

“Do you cook at all?”

You nod, “You’re looking at the family chef. I didn’t want to always eat steak, burger, and spaghetti. “

“How could I forget about the spaghetti? He’ll literally eat it all week.”

“Now you see why I was surprised when I found out he was married.”

Your dad finally makes an appearance, “What’s wrong with my spaghetti?”

“Nothing its good spaghetti, but all week dad?

“Well if it’s good, then I don’t see the problem.”

The three of you sit and chat through dinner. It comes surprisingly easy as you find yourself enamored by Wanda. You hang on every word she says, there’s this twinkle in her eye when she speaks. Her expressions are right there on her sleeves.

You don’t miss the way she bites her lip while she’s thinking, or the small hint of an accent in certain things she says. It makes you wonder more about how your dad could ever manage a woman like this.

When everyone is done eating, you stand up and begin to collect the dishes.

“I’ve got it Y/n,” Wanda tries to take them from you, but you stop her.

“No, it’s alright, you cooked it’s only fair I do the dishes.”

She smiles, giving your father a pointed look, “Maybe someone else should take notes.”

He gives you a playful glare, “Home for a couple hours and already making me look bad.”

You start on the dishes, taking the moment to yourself to gather your thoughts. No matter how many subjects you tried to shift through, the one your mind kept falling back to was Wanda.

She was truly one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your life. She was a virtual stranger to you, so there was nothing wrong with finding her attractive. You’d only just met her, it would take some time to get used to seeing her as your dad’s wife.

“I think that one is clean.”

Wanda’s voice startles you a bit causing you to jump lightly. Heat fills your face as embarrassment sets in.

“You caught me lost in thought,” your nerves are still high as you speak.

“What’s got you so far away sweetheart?”

You make the mistake of looking into her eyes. The genuine curiosity behind them paired with a gentle worry conveyed by the small furrow in her brow. You’re gawking again, your focus returns to the dishes.

“It’s just been me and my dad for long time.”

“I understand that , I know that you’re just meeting me-"

You stop her, “You’re lovely, Wanda. I’m not- I don’t have concerns about your relationship with him. I just… I don't know where I fit into all of this. With me moving back home, I feel like a stranger.”

Wanda takes the dish out of your hands and sits it in the rack. If she cares about the moisture level of your hands, she doesn’t say anything. She takes them in her own and looks into your eyes.

“This is your home Y/n. You will never be a stranger in it. It’s a lot to get used to, especially when it’s sprung on you so quickly and I'm sorry for that. Consider it my goal to make you feel at home.”

You don’t know when your eyes dropped to her lips, but it was abundantly clear they had when she stopped speaking.

“Sweetheart?”

You blink a few times regaining your awareness, quickly pulling your hand from hers, “Sorry, long day. I think I’ll turn in for the night, but thank you Wanda… for the food and the talk.”

You rush upstairs and close yourself in your room. What you never noticed was the faint blush on Wanda’s cheeks. She had seen you focus in on her lips while speaking. Honestly, she was finding the way you were looking at her hard to ignore. There was such a wanting in them. She was trying to ignore it, while still getting to know you, but that task was beginning to seem difficult.

She decided to wipe up the kitchen area. Her thoughts wander to when she opened the door for you. The way your eyes traveled the length of her body, the way your mouth stayed agape when she spoke.

You didn’t look a lot like your father. Wanda noted that you were tall and sort of lanky like he was, and you had a lot of his mannerisms, but physically she assumed you looked like your mother. You had soft features, that might have clashed a little with your urban aesthetic.

You presented yourself much how your dad described you. A bit shy, but truly a good mannered, funny kid. Wanda expected a little more social ineptitude, but she was surprised with how chatty you ended up being.

She wondered if it had anything to do with the way you perceived her. Truth be told she felt sorry for you, your father should’ve told you about this a while ago. She had heard about you and pressed to meet you, but he always had some excuse to why you couldn’t meet.

“So, what do you think?”

“I wish I would’ve met her a little earlier but she seems like a good kid,” Wanda turns to face her husband.

The man frowns, “I’m sorry, seeing you both interact made me realize that I could’ve done this much sooner.”

“How do you think she’ll interact with the boys?”

He smiles, “Y/n is basically one of the boys. You’ll see that side of her eventually. She’ll be in that room for the foreseeable future, until Yelena or someone else drags her out.”

“I could take her out for a girl’s day,” Wanda suggests.

Shawn laughs at her, “I’ve never known her to be into any of that stuff, but if that’s something you want to do, let me know. I’d probably have to convince her to agree.”

Wanda shakes her head, “I think I can get her to go all on my own.”

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll see you upstairs.”

The man makes his way upstairs to the bed. Wanda on the other hand, stays finishing up some minor things in the kitchen, before heading up herself.

She heads straight for the bathroom, ready to get the smell of the kitchen off of her. She wasn’t paying much attention on her way, looking at her phone. That’s how she found herself running straight into you. She would’ve fell if it weren’t your strong grip on her hips.

She went to apologize, but the words died on her lips as she saw water droplets falling from your skin. Her hands pressed against your slightly damp pajama shirt, in order to stabilize herself.

The shirt was thin enough, for her to feel your abdomen through it. She found herself at a loss for words.

“Are you alright Wanda?”

She nods meekly, “Sorry sweetheart, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“It’s no biggie, as long as you’re ok,” you help her fully upright, hands not leaving her side.

“All good, thanks to you,” Wanda struggles to meet your eyes.

You are about to squeeze her sides when you remember who this woman is. Your hands fall to your sides quickly. Nervous laughter build up in your throat, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Y/n I was wondering if you'd be interested in having a girl’s day with me, before my boys come. I think it’d be good to have some bonding time.”

“I um- I’ve never really had a girl’s day,” you scratch the back of your neck awkwardly.

“Well, it’ll be my treat?”

You nod, “Ok, like tomorrow or…”

“Tomorrow is perfect.”

You give a thumbs up and make your way to your room, while Wanda goes into the bathroom.

You plop straight into your bed, slapping your hand on to your face, “Really Y/n, a girl’s day. What were we thinking?”

You knew exactly what you were thinking. Alone time with Wanda, piqued your interest. The feeling of her in her hands felt like it was etched into your memory. The way she was looking at you made your heart pound in your chest.

As you lay in bed, your mind begins to paint vulgar images in your head. Ones that you had yet to experience due to your introverted lifestyle. The farthest you had gone with another girl was some lackluster dry humping.

That didn’t stop you from imagining your hands on Wanda’s body. The way she softly gasped when your hands stopped her from falling. The feeling of her fingers against your abdomen, blessed for the thing material of your shirt. The addictive color of her lips, and how they could move against yours.

You couldn’t sleep with her on your mind and the wetness pooling between your legs. You sit up in your bed, leaning back against the headboard. It’s only a moment of contemplation, before you stick your hand under the band of your pajama pants.

Your fingers are determined as they draw tight fast circles around your clit. You want to expedite the experience as much as possible. There couldn’t be anytime to dwell on who you were thinking about.

With your eyes closed you could see her taking her shirt off. Her skin soft and cool under your fingertips. A trail of goosebumps in your wake. You could see her craning her neck as you sucked on the exposed skin, marking her as your own. You could feel her hands tugging at your hair, moaning your name as you tasted her.

“Fuck, Wanda,” you came with a grunt. Your eyes still closed as your fingers stilled against the mess you made of yourself.

On the other side of your bedroom door, Wanda was standing there in shock. She had heard some sounds coming from your room after exiting the bathroom. When she realized what the sounds were, she thought she should leave. Yet the sound of her name being whispered on your tongue along with the sound of you playing with yourself, kept her in place.

She found herself worked up after her shower. Wishing that she would’ve cracked the door to see you, touching yourself with her in mind. Simultaneously scolding herself for having thoughts like this running through her head.

She married your father, she liked your father, he was a decent man. He was good to her and her boys. So what if he was always working, who cares that he hid their entire relationship from the most important person in his life, and does it even matter that he hasn’t ever really given her an orgasm. This was her new husband and she shouldn’t be thinking about his daughter in this way.

Maybe asking for a girl’s day, wasn’t a good idea. Being closer to you seemed like a dangerous game, lines that Wanda couldn’t allow herself to cross.

It was hard for her, knowing your young prying eyes were on her. From what she had heard, you already wanted her. The token of a youthful want and desire, it went right to her core.

When she finally made her way back to her room, she had decided that she needed some relief. She was going to seek it from your father, but the man already laid snoring. She shook him a couple of times in hopes to wake him up, but her attempts were met with swats of her hand and incoherent grunting.

Wanda huffed with irritation sliding into her side of the bed. She let herself get off to the thought of you that night unable to think herself guilty.

Your father was out of the house before Wanda or yourself had woken up in the morning. Wanda hated waking up to an empty bed, but it had become her new normal.

She didn't bother getting ready for the day yet. She simply stretched some, before brushing her teeth, and heading downstairs for breakfast. She was surprised to find you in the kitchen, cooking.

You hadn’t recognized her presence yet, too caught up in breakfast. Music played lowly through the kitchen and you hummed along. You thought it’d be a nice gesture to make breakfast since Wanda had cooked dinner last night.

The older woman watched you in somewhat of a trance. Your movements were a little clumsy, but it was clear that you had been doing it like this for a while. She could see herself coming up behind you and wrapping herself around you as you cooked for her.

Her muscles twitched at the thought. She took in a deep breath before she finally announced her presence, “Good morning.”

You turn away from the stove to smile at her, “Perfect timing, I'm almost done with breakfast.”

“You didn't have to do all of this, your dad’s not even here to enjoy it.”

You shrug your shoulders, “I figured he’d be at work anyway. Consider this a thank you for dinner."

You bring her a plate along with some coffee before getting your own.

“Y/n, this is amazing,” Wanda praises you.

You grow bashful, “It’s nothing really. So, what’s on the agenda for our girl’s day?”

Wanda ponders for a moment, “How about you tell me some things you like to do and we’ll go from there?”

You stumble a bit, “I uh- I don't really like to do much. Dad and I never really did anything more than like going to a park and sometimes fishing.”

“What about the mall? People your age are into shopping, right?”

You laugh, “I’ve only really been back to school shopping.”

Wanda shakes her head, “Today, I guess I’m going to introduce you to some of life’s little luxuries. I’m going to need you to trust me.”

You give her a small smile, “I trust you.”

You say it so earnestly that it nearly scares her.

“Good, so we’ll head out after we’re done eating and getting dressed.”

After cleaning up and getting dressed you regrouped in the living room. You tried your best to not let your eyes linger over Wanda’s attire. She wore a simple yellow sundress, it wasn’t anything extravagant but it looked good on her. It almost made you want to change out of your t-shirt and jeans, feeling a little underdressed.

“Ready?”

You answer her, and soon you’re in the passenger seat of her car with no idea where you’re going. You both make pleasant small talk, not really feeling the need to fill the silence. The only thing you make conscious effort to do is not stare at her cleavage in the dress.

It hard to erase the images that you pictured last night, but for your own sake you try.

The first place Wanda takes you is a nail shop. You had been before, but it had honestly been years. She opted for a manicure and pedicure, while you just got a manicure. You were usually a clear coat type of girl but today you decided to get black paint.

After your nails, Wanda decides to take you to the mall.

“Ok, whatever you want in here, is on me today,” she says as you enter the shopping center.

Your eyes go wide, “Wanda, I couldn't ask you for that.”

“Good thing you didn't ask sweetheart,” she responds and you feel yourself melt a little.

“I’m not even good at shopping, I don't really know what looks good on me,” you admit to the woman.

She pauses her steps to give you a once over. Her eyes dragging slowly across your body, as if she was personally undressing you then and there.

“Honey, you should've never told me that. Now, I’m afraid you're going to have to indulge me through these stores.”

“What does that mean?”

Wanda’s tone is playful, “Don’t worry your little head about it sweetheart, I’m going to help you find some clothes.”

It's not a second later that she’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a clothing store. She starts grabbing clothes and holding them up to your body, trying to see what looks good. She had a pile of clothes in her arms that she was shoving into your hands.

“Try these on,” she pushes you to the dressing rooms.

A lot of the stuff she had was stuff you’d never grab for yourself, but it did all look good on you. There were a few pieces, particularly crop tops, that you weren’t too sure about.

“I think I look weird,” you come out in the crop top.

You have something of a jacket over it. You look down at your exposed stomach before looking up at Wanda. There’s something in the way she’s looking at you.

“It looks good,” her tongue swipes across her bottom lip. “But if you’re uncomfortable then you don’t have to get it.”

“Do you really think it looks ok?”

She stands from her spot and makes her way over to you. Her hands fiddle with the end of the shirt. She adjust the waistband of your jeans. With a few quick tugs, she has you seeing the outfit in a different way.

“I do.”

You nod, “Ok, I see it.”

“You should wear it out,” she suggests and you comply.

You thought it’d be over after the one store but Wanda takes you into 3 more clothing store, racking up a whole new wardrobe. At the end you practically had to beg her not to spend any more money.

“Do you want to go in there, your dad mentioned you’re a big gamer?”

She nods her head to the video game store that you admittedly had been eyeing since the last store you went in.

You shake your head, “You’ve already spent so much and games are like $70 now.”

“ So I’m going to take that as a yes,” she starts walking ahead into the store.

You groan, but follow her in anyway, “Wanda, can I ask what you do for work?”

She laughs, “Why, so you can feel a little better about me spending the money?”

“Maybe,” you say browsing through a few games.

“Well, I used to work in real estate and now I do editing for major publications books, magazines, things like that.”

“That seems like a big jump,” you point out.

She nods, “It is, but I’m much happier editing than I was selling houses. The real estate did give me a good standing to be able to chase and finance my dreams. It’s honestly given me more money than I know what to do with. So I usually just don’t do anything with it.”

“Does my dad know?”

Wanda adverts her eyes, “No, he doesn’t. Your dad really enjoys being a provider. He wants to be the breadwinner and bring home the bacon. He doesn’t even let me pay for dinner. I pay for some of the bills at home and he doesn’t even want me to do that. I’ve been trying to coerce him into letting me do more but-”

“He’s a stubborn guy,” you finish her thoughts. “When I was in high school, I got a job at the movie theater to help out with some things around the house and for college. Dad was really…insecure about letting me help. He wanted to prove he could do it on his own.”

Her eyes soften, “Oh wow."

“Yeah, I think it has something to do with my mom walking out on us, but I don’t know. We never really talked about it,” you say picking up a game.

Wanda knew this topic to be sensitive to your dad. He had mentioned it, but never went into detail. When Wanda tried to press for information, he'd either shut down or get irritated, she wonders if he was the same with you.

“No pressure, but if you ever want to talk about it or vent, I’m here for you.” She takes the game from your hands, “I know it’s not your dad’s favorite topic and I know I don’t have the answers you’re probably looking for, but I don’t mind listening to you.”

You look at her for a long moment. Your eyes are watering against your will. You blink back the tears and nod silently. You never really talked about your mom, truth be told you never unpacked those feelings yourself.

“I- I’ve never really talked about it with anyone. I don’t know how I feel about it, I mean I was only 5.”

Wanda thinks of her words carefully, “Do you remember her?”

You laugh lightly, still pretending to browse the games, “Of course I do, she was my mom. She brushed my hair, tucked me in, put band aids on my scrapes and cuts, and she never got mad when I got grass stains on my clothes.”

Wanda keeps quiet as she senses you have more to say.

“She was a stay-at-home mom, so I spent most of my time with her. I don’t- I wish I remembered what she looked like more. I look like her, I know I do, but… I don’t know it’s not enough.”

Wanda rests her hand on your back. Rubbing small circles bringing you more comfort than you thought you needed. You place your hand in her other hand, sighing deeply.

“I wish I knew why she left. Dad never told me, I just know that one day I woke up and she wasn’t there. He told me she wasn’t coming back. I never wanted to ask him, he was already doing so much to prove that he could be enough. I’m grateful for that, for him… but in the back of my mind I can’t help but wonder, you know.”

A teardrop falling onto your cheek, pulls you quickly out of the moment. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve and take a step back from Wanda.

“Y/n-"

“I’ve heard really cool things about that game. I’ve been wanting it for a few months now,” you pivot topics, clearing your throat.

“Then it’s yours sweetheart.”

You were grateful that she just let it go.

After that you both decide to call it a day and head back home. You bring all of your new clothes to your room and begin to put them away. You decide to take a quick shower and change into more comfortable clothes before heading down to the living room. Usually you’d keep to yourself in your room, but you were secretly hoping Wanda would join you.

“What’re you watching?”

“Back to the Future, it’s one of my favorites,” you make room for her on the couch next to you.

She takes a seat, “Mine too.”

You perk up, “Really?”

She nods, “Me and my brother used to watch it all the time when we were younger.”

The two of you sit in silence as you watch the movie. Unbeknownst to either of, the space between you grows slimmer by the minute. You take a peek at the woman to find her eyes fluttering, before they finally close. She had already nearly been laying on the couch. Her feet are up, bent to lay over each other. She had been holding up her head in her hand. Now as she fell unconscious her head had drops into your lap.

You feel your heart rate pick up. The movie suddenly becomes uninteresting. You don’t want to move, unwilling to wake the woman. She looks peaceful in her sleep. You notice how she twitches lightly and though you shouldn’t your fingers begin to comb through her hair. She hums in your lap, but you don’t still. Your fingers work gingerly to bring her comfort.

She stops twitching and you refocus on the movie with your hand still in her hair. Eventually you find yourself dozing off as well.

“Well, well, well looks like girl’s day was a success,” it’s your father’s voice that wakes both you and Wanda.

The red head becomes alert first, she notes her position in your lap and your hand in her hair and immediately bolts up right. You’re slower to come to stretching widely before open your eyes.

“Yeah, it was pretty fun,” you say while yawning.

“I see some nail polish Y/n, that’s new.”

You shrug, “It’s not the first time.”

“I know but it’s been a while, having another girl around the house is nice, isn’t it?”

You let out a huff of irritation, completely aware of what he was insinuating. For the most part your dad was in support of your sexuality. However, there were some jokes he just couldn’t let go of. The “gay” thing was fine with him, but he still believed that you could stand to be more ladylike. Which was completely rich coming from the man that raised you on fishing trips, Miller Lite, and WWE.

“So, ladies what’s for dinner?”

Wanda goes to answer but you speak over her, “Honestly dad, I was hoping for some of your burgers tonight.”

Your father beams with excitement, “Will do kiddo, just let me shower first and I’ll be in the kitchen.”

You both watch as he wanders up the stairs.

“You didn’t want to cook, did you?”

“No, not really. Thank you for the save and for letting me nap on you,” she adverts her gaze as she speaks to you.

“I’m happy to help in any way I can,” you say to her, not noticing the undertone of your statement.

Her eyes become dark as she looks at you. The lust filled look in her eyes has you reeling at what you said. There’s no point in taking it back now. You swallow thickly under her gaze, but don't make any motion to move away from her. Instead, you find yourself compelled to lean in closer.

Wanda let’s you get within a few inches of her face, before breathlessly letting your name fall from her lips, “Y/n.”

You close your eyes, “You can’t just say my name like that, Wanda.”

“You can’t make statements like the one you made,” she fires back.

Both of you give leeway to how you’re actual feeling. You go to move closer to her, but her hand on your shoulder keeps you away. It honestly breaks you from whatever pulled you in, in the first place

The tips of your ears heat up as you stand abruptly, “Sorry, I- I’ll see you at dinner.”

Much like when you were a teenager you lock yourself in your room. Wanda picks up a pillow from the couch putting it over her head, pretending to scream into it.

You send a quick text to Yelena. Something along the lines of saying you should hang out tomorrow. She is in disbelief at the fact that you want to do something out of the house, but is equally as excited. She says she’s taking advantage of this and keeping you out all day.

You needed to get out of the house. You stayed in it so much because you deemed it as a safe space. However, with Wanda around… you didn’t know if you could truly call it safe. It had only taken two days for you to almost kiss her.

There wasn’t a bone in your body that was used to moving this quickly. It had taken you years to develop your first crush and even longer before you acted on any such feeling. Yet with Wanda everything felt different. You weren’t a believer in love at first sight, you wouldn’t call what you were feeling love. This attraction… for lack of a better term just felt intense.

It was almost as if every interaction had a double meaning to it. It was something that the other woman was clearly also aware of. Neither of you should be acting on it and technically you hadn’t done anything. The problem was that you wanted to, and you didn’t see those feelings going away anytime soon. It was only the second day and you had the rest of your life to go.

One day out with Yelena became a couple days of the week out with her. You even had started texting your former roommate to see if she’d be down to hangout as well. So save for the first two days, you spent every day out and about.

You had similar plans for the next week too, but they came to a halt quickly when your dad mentioned Wanda’s kids coming back from their dad’s. He made it clear that he wanted you to be there to meet them so your plans of avoiding home, became a little more complicated.

So once again you were stuck in your room. The doorbell ringing is the only reason you had left the space. You knew that your dad was out and Wanda was working in her office at the time, so you were the only option.

It rang one more time, before you got to it. When you open the door, you are met by two teenage boys and an older looking man. You stare at them and they stare back at you.

“Is Wanda in? I would like to have a talk with her,” the man in the middle speaks.

“She’s working right now.”

He rolls his eyes, “And who are you exactly?”

Something about his tone makes you jaw twitch, “I’m Y/n, Shawn’s kid.”

“Right, the one he was hiding away.”

“Dad-”

Dealing with stuck up assholes was unfortunately nothing new to you, “Billy, Tommy you guys can head on in.”

They look from their father to you before quickly making the decision to go inside. The man trues to go in behind but you block his entry.

“They live here, you don’t. I suggest you try talking to Wanda again sometime next week…” you smile at him.

“Jarvis,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Goodbye Jarvis,” you slam the door in his face.

You clap your hands together as you turn around. You slightly startle at the presence of the teen boys behind you. There’s an awkward silence as you stare at each other.

“So, your mom said you guys are gamers?”

That’s all it took for the three of you to hunker down in the living room and start gaming. From Mario Kart to Mario Party to Mortal Kombat, the three of you rotted the day away. You end up ordering some pizza and junk food, which is essential for all gaming marathons.

“I love your style by the way,” Billy says grabbing a slice of pizza.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “You might as well just ask me if I'm gay.”

Tommy laughs at this, which earns him a slap in the arm from Billy.

“Well… are you?”

“Yep.”

“Girlfriend?” Tommy asks.

“Nope, how about you two?”

Billy smiles, “I have a boyfriend.”

He goes on telling you some details. You genuinely feel happy for the boy. To be young, out, and dating is really cool.

“That’s really cool Billy.”

“Thanks, I wish my dad thought so too.”

Tommy jumps in the conversation, “Dad is fucking stupid, what does he know about any kind of relationship.”

You agree with Tommy, “I mean he did fumble your mom.”

They both laugh, but Billy brings the conversation back, “I just wish he was more accepting.”

“He’s either going to come around because he loves you or keep showing you who he really is. Either way you still have your mom, your bother, your boyfriend, and even me to rely on. So just cause your dad isn’t accepting doesn't mean you aren’t accepted,” you tell him sincerely.

“He wanted to talk to mom about Billy’s boyfriend. He thinks it’s… inappropriate,” Tommy spills.

“Well I don't think it's any of his business, and even if he did tell your mom she’d have your back,” you say like it’s obvious.

“If who told me what?”

Wanda comes out from her office and her kids greet her. She’s surprised to see you downstairs with them, but doesn’t comment on it.

“Dad doesn't approve of Billy’s boyfriend,” Tommy says again earning an agitated look from his brother.

“Yeah, he was going to talk to you, but Y/n kicked him out,” Billy says awkwardly.

You keep your focus on the game, “I didn’t kick him out… I slammed the door in his face.”

“Y/n!”

“It was well deserved. He asked who I was, I told him. Then the asshole has the audacity to refer to me as ‘the one he was hiding' when trying to get into my house. I think the fuck not.”

Wanda walks in front of your TV blocking the game. You pause it and look up at her to find an unexpected fury in her eyes.

“What did he say to you?”

You meet her eyes, urging her to calm down, “I handled it.”

She takes the hint, moving out of your way, “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

She then focuses on talking with her children, recapping the week that they had. Billy also goes into some less than nice details of what his father had to say about his boyfriend.

Wanda’s hand presses against her brow line hearing the details. She’s clearly irritated with the twin’s father.

“I’ll talk to him, and you tell me if he says anything else. I have no issue coming to get you guys if he makes you uncomfortable,” Wanda says hugging the boys.

You take this moment between the family to go upstairs. You breath in the minute to yourself. The twins were nice, and it was cool to have people in the house to game with. They’d seem like people who’d you befriend at their age.

“Thanks for hanging out with my kids and for the stuff with their dad,” Wanda stands in your doorway.

You give her a small nod, “Billy and Tommy are cool. Their dad… less cool. So it was my pleasure to slam the door in his face.”

Wanda chuckles, “Jarvis is an asshole.”

You join in on her laughter, “Yeah, I definitely can’t see you with that guy.”

“I was young and naïve. If I knew then what I know now, I wouldn’t have stayed for so long.”

“How young?”

Wanda sighs, “18. He was older, more appealing back then.”

You can’t hide your reaction, “Oh.”

“Yeah, but that asshole gave me my kids. So I guess he was good for something.”

You disagree with her, “Just cause a guy is good for something, doesn’t mean he’s good for you.”

“Where were you when I was in my prime, Y/n?” her words have a double meaning.

You look at her, more serious than a heart attack, “I’m right here, and your prime is far from over.”

She shudders under your look, “Y/n.”

“I wish you could feel how hard it is for me to do the right thing, Wanda. I hate leaving the house, but I know if I was here all day with just you, I’d lose it.”

You’re lying on your back in bed. Your eyes cut from Wanda to the ceiling.

“Y/n, I’m married to your father.”

“He doesn’t even fuck you,” you say with a bored tone.

“Y/n!”

You don’t return her reaction, “I’ve been waiting to see if I’d have to plug my ears, or move downstairs so I didn’t have to hear. But it hasn’t happened yet. Probably too tired from work.”

“Y/n my kids are downstairs.”

Your head falls into your hands, “I’m sorry. I-I’m going to head out for a bit.”

You get up and go for your door. Wanda doesn’t move out of your way. She stands still in your doorframe.

“Where are you going?”

“I don't know, Lena’s if she’s home.”

Wanda frowns hearing this, “You don’t have to-”

You lock eyes with her’s, “I do.”

Wanda’s hand caresses your cheek. You lean into her touch. You hear her take an unsteady breath.

“You make this so hard for me.”

She slowly removes her hand, only to replace it with her lips. It’s enough to ignite a fire in your body. They linger, much longer than they should.

“Be safe,” she fixes your clothes a little, before finally clearing your path.

“Wanda-"

“I’ll see you back for dinner,” she says walking away from you.

When you think she can't see you anymore, you touch your cheek. The spot where her lips had been. You slip out of the house and make your way to Yelena’s.

You knock on the door and wait for her to answer. When she does, you don't let her say anything. You drag her upstairs to her room. You lock her door, before you start pacing in her room. She sits on her bed watching you.

“So… are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“I need this to be a judgement free zone.”

Yelena tilts her head, “Then why come here?”

“Yelena, I’m serious.”

She raises her hands in surrender at your snappy tone, “Fine, what is it?”

“I’m attracted to Wanda, and I think… she’s attracted to me.”

Yelena laughs as you stare at her. The laughter goes on for minutes before she realizes that you aren't laughing.

“Y/n, are you being serious?”

You close your eyes, “Lena there’s this tension. I just thought it was in my head. I almost kissed her, I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve been going out, and stuff just to stay away from her. She’s driving me insane.”

“You tried to kiss her!”

“She gave me this kiss on the cheek. She said I was making it hard for her. Yelena I’ve never felt like this for anyone,” you tell your best friend.

“Dude you’re fucked,” is all that she says.

“I know.”

“She’s your dad’s wife.”

“I know.”

“She has 2 kids.”

“I know.”

“Did I say she’s your dad’s wife already?”

You groan joining her on the bed, “I- I don’t know if I care about it. I mean I do, but he doesn’t even treat her that good. It could be worse, but it’s not great.”

“And you think you can do better?”

“I’d worship her.”

Yelena shakes her head, “I can’t believe you right now. You’re trying to get with your dad’s wife, she’s like almost 30 years older than you.”

“Can you blame me, you’ve seen her? It’s not my fault. If I would’ve met her before, maybe it would be different. It’s just like I come home and there’s this undeniably attractive woman in my house. She doesn’t feel like my dad’s wife to me."

Yelena nods along, “That’s fair, but Y/n this is insane.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s go to a club.”

Your eyes widen, “A club?”

“Lots of attractive people who are closer to your age and eligible,” she reasons with you.

“I’m not even supposed to be out right now. My dad says I have to be home to get acclimated with Wanda’s kids. They leave in a week.”

She claps her hands together, “Alright then, next week we’re going clubbing.”

You get a text from Wanda saying your father is on the way home. You know it’s her way of saying you need to be back soon.

“What should I do in the mean time?”

Yelena searches for an answer before landing on, “Act like she’s your mom.”

You gag at the thought, “Ew.”

Yelena reacts gleefully, “Exactly.”

You pause before exiting, “Technically… she is a milf though.”

“Y/n L/n get a fucking grip,” Yelena says with amusement.

“I’m trying, but she won’t let me,” you whine.

“You having a thing for older women makes so much sense. No wonder you had a crush on Natasha.”

You send her a playful glare, “We do not talk about the dark ages.”

“It’s alright, I forgive you. I don’t know if your dad will be as forgiving as I am.”

You shrug, “I’ll test it out and let you know.”

She leads you to her front door, “Think about the club. Focus on it, breathe it in. Dream about it. Do not think about fucking your step mom.”

“Too late for that,” you shrug again.

“Just get out already, I’m running low on things to say back.”

“Bye Lena,” you say as she basically pushes you out of her door.

You make it back just before your dad gets there. It’s interesting seeing him interact with Billy and Tommy. It’s clear to you that he favors Tommy a little more. It’s just in the way he speaks. It bothers you a bit and you make sure to include Billy any time that you can in conversation.

You can feel Wanda’s eyes on you throughout the dinner, but you keep your attention with the boys and your dad.

“So I have a bit of an announcement to make,” your father says, gathering everyone’s attention. “I have an opportunity to get a promotion at work.”

“That’s great honey, we’re so proud of you,” Wanda gives him a quick kiss.

You try your best to hold back any malice with a fake smile on your face.

“Well, the thing is I’d need to go out of town for a bit to secure the position,” he says and you feel Wanda’s mood shift.

“For how long dad?” you ask, taking a sip of your drink.

He winces, “At least a month, maybe more.” He begins to pile on in an effort to make it seem less drastic. “It’s really a once in a lifetime opportunity, I've been working there for so long it feels overdue, but with this money our lives could change dramatically. We could move, Y/n you could go back to dorming, it would be-”

“You already accepted it didn't you?”

Wanda’s tone is guarded as she speaks. It's clear that she's unhappy and you don't blame her.

You sigh pushing yourself away from the table, “Congratulations dad, I’m going to head up to my room now.”

“Wait.” Wanda’s voice stops you in your tracks. “How do you feel about this Y/n?”

“I uh-”

“Don’t drag my kid into this.”

Wanda starts gesturing with her hands, “I’m not, she’s bound to have an opinion. She lives here, she’s your daughter, and she came back home because of you. Now you’re bailing.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’m used to him being busy,” you try to mediate.

Your dad throws his hands up, “What is that supposed to mean?”

You give him your honest opinion, “It means you’re busy. You were late to my graduation because of work. You missed my award ceremonies. There wasn’t any point in me signing up for extracurriculars because you’d never take me or show up anyway. It’s nothing personal dad, it’s just the truth.”

“I was providing for you,” he throws it back in your face.

Your shoulders drop, “I know and I’m grateful, but-” you stop yourself. Instead you just head for your room. You hear him call after you, but you don’t respond.

It’s not soon after that you hear footsteps coming up the stairs. There’s a soft knock on your door. You don’t say anything as Billy and Tommy slip into your room.

“They’re still going at it,” Tommy announces.

“Do they… do this a lot?” You ask the boys.

Billy answers, “When any sort of quality time is involved.”

You scoff, “Classic.”

Tommy places a hand on your shoulder, “We get it you know.”

“Sometimes you just wish they were there for you,” Billy finishes the sentence.

You feel yourself breaking down but refuse to let the tears fall. Tommy pulls you into a hug and Billy joins in soon after. You center yourself in their embrace. It’s not a comfort that you’re used to experiencing, you appreciate it immensely.

At some point during this moment the voices downstairs escalate to yelling. It quickly grabs your attention and has you realizing that you are the only other adult present in this moment. It feels like your responsibility to try to shield them from this, even if they are on the older side of things. Teenagers are still kids. Hell you still feel like a kid in your early twenties.

You place a hand on Billy’s head and the other on Tommy’s, “Thanks kids. I’m going to go handle downstairs, you stay up here.”

Tommy interjects, “I think-”

You stop him, “I’ve got it, trust me. They’re going to get noise complaint if things keep going.”

You steel yourself as you go downstairs to find Wanda and your father in the middle of a heated argument. They’re both standing, yelling in each other’s faces.

“SO WHAT SHAWN YOU LEAVE FOR OVER A MONTH AND DON’T EVEN THINK TO RUN IT BY ME FIRST?”

“RUN IT BY YOU FOR WHAT WANDA? YOU AREN’T MY MOTHER.”

“I AM YOUR WIFE, OR HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THAT? TOO BUSY WORKING TO EVEN ACKNOWLEDGE ME.”

“WHEN DID YOU BECOME SUCH A NEEDY BI-“

“ENOUGH,” you cut your father off in the middle of his sentence. The couple looks at you, and you can feel the anger simmering in their gazes. “It’s late, you’re going to get the police called with all of your arguing.”

“Well if-”

“Stop. The conversation is going nowhere because you aren’t having a conversation, you’re just screaming at each other,” you tell them.

“Y/n, you should stay out of this,” your father glare at you.

“I would love to, only we can all hear you upstairs. You either need to table this conversation for another time or go somewhere else to talk. Neither of you should be acting like this in front of your kids. I don’t care who started it, if you both plan on staying here tonight it’s over right now.”

Wanda is the one to take in a deep breath. She looks between you and your father. There’s something behind her eyes but you’re focused on the task at hand.

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” she walks away from the table, past you, and disappears up the stairs.

You muster up all the disappointment you possibly can as you take in your father’s appearance, “She has a right to be upset with you. It seems like you keep hiding these really important, life altering things from her. You have to be more upfront, more honest with her.”

“How was I supposed to know she’d react this way?”

You level with him, “You had to have expected something like this, it’s why you didn't tell her in the first place.”

“Maybe I did, I just… I really want this,” he says slumping down on the couch.

“Wanda doesn’t seem like the unsupportive type. It’s all in your delivery. You need to apologize, before you leave. When are you leaving?”

“In 3 days.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, “Christ dad.”

“I know, I know. I’ll take her out tomorrow and we'll talk it out there.”

You nod, turning to go back to your room.

“Kid wait.” You pause at his call. “What were you going to say back there, before you went to your room?”

It takes you a moment to respond, “Sometimes I just wanted someone to be there for me. My dad, my mom, just someone. You were always busy with work and I was always alone.”

You don’t give him a chance to say anything else as you go up the stairs. His eyes follow you until you disappear. He sighs, leaning back into the couch, feeling like he could scream. He was failing, and he had 3 days to fix it.

When go back upstairs the boys are passed out on your bed. You think about waking them up, but decide against it. You settle on going into their room. It’s not until you shut the door behind you, that you notice the red head sitting on one of the beds in the room.

You take a seat on the bed that she’s not sitting on. The silence is heavy as you stare at each other. You can see the emotions running through her eyes. The anger, the frustration, and the lust. Your heart beat is steady as you look back at her.

“Do you think I’m in the wrong?” her voice is small when she asks.

“No, I just don’t think you know what kind of guy you married. He’s never going to be around enough and he’s never going to pick you over work. I’m not trying to be an asshole, it’s just the truth,” you speak bluntly.

“If you-" Wanda stops her sentence in its tracks.

“Honestly if I were him, I’d turn it down. I wouldn’t want to leave you for a month, but he's not me.”

“No, he isn’t,” she breathes out.

There’s another silence. Then it happens, so suddenly that you nearly freeze. Wanda’s lips are on yours. Her hands are planted in your hair and yours rest on the dips of her hips. Your back lays flat against the mattress.

Your tongue slips into her mouth causing you both to moan. Her hips roll on your lap and you grunt at the sensation. Your lips leave her mouth only to kiss down the side of her neck. As much as you want to leave a hickey you don’t. It’s not until your tongue runs across the top of her breast that she partial breaks from the trance.

“Y/n,” it’s a whine from her lips. The sound is entirely to intoxicating.

You begin to guide her hips against your thigh. Her sundress not leaving much fabric between her cunt and your sweats.

“Y/n we shouldn’t,” her hips follow your movements though her words tell you different.

“Just let me make you cum, please. Please Wanda, get off on my thigh,” your words are low as you beg her.

“Fuck,” Wanda watches the way your eyes don’t move from where she grinds on your thigh.

She lifts the sundress slightly so you can have a better view.

“Oh god,” you groan at the sight of the dampness of her panties. It turns you on even more.

Wanda finds herself grinding down harder, chasing her orgasm. You hold her firmly, helping create more friction. You find yourself getting off on the image before you.

“Fuck, use me. I know he can’t do it, so let me be useful. Fucking use my thigh. You’re so hot, shit I wish I could have you like this every night. I’m so desperate for you. I’m going to cum just from having you on me, fuck mommy.”

Wanda’s body completely falls into your arms. She shakes as she cums, leaving a mess on your sweatpants. She’s trying and failing to catch her breath as you hold her upright. Her head lolls into your shoulder.

“Did you really cum?” she says lips brushing against your ear.

You nod dumbly.

She moans again, “That’s so fucking hot.” She places a kiss right below your ear. “And what did you call me?”

Your chest heaves as you breathe out a response, “Mommy.”

She purrs in your ear before pulling away some. She grabs a fistful of your shirt pulling you into a searing kiss.

“We’re doing this again. Do you understand sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes mommy.”

She kisses your head one last time before getting off of your lap. You don’t miss the way her legs shutter as she gets up. You whine at the loss of contact.

“Don’t worry detka, we’ve got a little time to ourselves coming up. Mommy will let you go as far as you can handle, and maybe a little more than that.”

Next part

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #billy and tommy #yelena belova

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snail-day · 5 months ago

Text

I fear my baby fever has taken over the past few days, so I present you with the JJK men as fathers headcanons.

TW: Babies, Fluff, mentions of pregnancy, slight yandere behaviors.

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna

WC: 3k

a/n: I won’t get into the actual pregnancy details just yet—saving that for a later date (a rather soon date). Also wasn't expecting to yap so much about this. Enjoy!

Gojo Satoru

Oh dear. This poor man.

There are very few things in the world that can shake Satoru Gojo to his core. He has stared down curses beyond comprehension, fought battles that could wipe out cities, and held the weight of the world on his shoulders without so much as flinching.

But when he holds his baby for the first time?

Oh, he crumbles. Practically has to bite his lip to stop himself from outright sobbing, whole body stiff, breath caught in his throat, because how the hell is something so small, so warm, so unbelievably perfect? They’re not even cleaned off yet, and this man is already kissing their tiny head, his lips soft against their damp skin, murmuring thank yous like a prayer. To you, to the universe, to whatever god decided that he—a man who has lost too much—was allowed to have something this precious.

Don’t you worry, there will be a celebration. A sushi boat is being delivered as soon as possible (as if you weren’t already expecting that).

However, here’s the thing, Satoru was already clingy before.

Now? Now he’s unbearable. Words cannot describe how this man refuses to let you leave his eyesight for more than a moment. He adored you before, but now you’re the mother of his child. The woman who carried a piece of him inside her, who gave him something he never thought he could have. If you so much as disappear into another room? Satoru is ready to Hollow Purple the air itself.

Following you around like some puppy with his spawn that resembles him a little too much: ("Dumpling? Where’d you go?" "Satoru, I’m in the bathroom." "...Can I come in?")

Oh, and he takes such good care of you too. Sure, he teases—makes his usual dumb jokes, smirks like an idiot—but when it comes to postpartum recovery? This man is all in. You have to make that infamous diaper concoction after birth? He’s right there, handing you an ice pack for your bits, whispering, “I have never loved you more.” If you ask, hell, if you even hint at needing help with anything? He’s already doing it. Witch hazel wash? No hesitation. Helping you in and out of the bath? He’s got you. Bringing you food, making sure you drink water, physically tucking you into bed because you refuse to rest? He does it all. Yes, he will absolutely pick you up and put you back in bed if you try to do too much: ("Satoru, I can walk." "Oh, I know you can, but should you?" Cue him plopping you onto the couch with a smug grin, a fluffy blanket, and a kiss to your forehead.)

Now, as much as he loves his baby, he is deeply afraid of the newborn phase. Like, undeniably so. The idea of rolling over and crushing them in his sleep? A recurring nightmare. (Yes, he believes in skin-to-skin contact. Yes, he read a bunch of articles about it while out on missions. Yes, he panicked about every single one.) Trimming their tiny fingernails? His worst nightmare. And trust, your house is baby-proofed to the maximum.

But once they hit the toddler phase? Oh, he thrives. They're curious! They tell him the craziest stories, and he eats up every single one. He loves feeding them sweets, spoiling them rotten. He definitely brings them to the school with him, letting them color all over his mission logs (that he’s been avoiding anyway).

And when they start walking? Oh, this is where things get real.

Satoru Gojo is undeniably, unapologetically, shamelessly a leash dad. The first time his little one wobbles too far from him in public? Leash acquired. Not just any leash, oh no, it’s cute. He makes sure it matches their little outfits, maybe even gets custom ones with their initials embroidered on them (never their name, that's how they get kidnapped!) Safety first!

If anyone dares to give him a weird look? He dares them to say something. His sunglasses drop down the bridge of his nose as he grins, voice sickly sweet: "You got a problem?"

Unfortunately, probably gets one for you too. Just to be a menace of a husband, loops it around your wrist with a teasing smirk, leaning in close, "Can’t have my favorite person running off, now can I?"

("Satoru, take this off me." "Make me.")

Geto Suguru

Oh, Suguru, who definitely acts more like a mother than a father.

This man embodies nurturing (and controlling, but hey, he’s going to therapy… maybe). Sure, he technically runs a cult, but you and your twins? You don’t really need to know that. (His poor assistant, though, absolutely running damage control while he’s busy doting on you.)

From the moment you give birth, Suguru is relentless in his care. He follows every superstitious belief—some of them might be outdated, but he does not care. You will be sitting for a month. No cold foods, no heavy lifting. Okay, he’ll allow you to wash your hair, but standing in the shower? Absolutely not. Baths only. He’s drawing them for you, making sure the temperature is just right, ensuring you’re as comfortable as possible.

If he weren’t a cult leader, he’d make the perfect stay-at-home dad.

Oh, the birth itself? He refuses to trust non-sorcerers with your pregnancy. No hospital, no epidurals, no way. It’s a birthing pool, at home, the natural way. And the second those babies are in his arms? He is devoted. Just like Satoru, you’re not leaving his sight. Neither are those babies.

But the baby phase? He hates it.

Not the babies themselves, of course, but dear god, two at once is a nightmare. They’re constantly tugging on his dark hair, they somehow manage to unlock baby-proofed cabinets (how are they that smart already?), and the mess? The sleepless nights? The chaos? It’s almost enough to drive him insane. But even through his exhaustion, he’s never anything but soft with them. Always the nurturing, coddling one. Because even though this phase is hell, he still loves them more than anything.

But once they hit the toddler years? That’s when he shines.

Suguru is the epitome of patience, his voice always gentle, his hands always steady as he guides them through their little tantrums and misadventures. He isn’t a leash dad, he simply doesn’t need to be. His twins are always either in his arms or holding his hands, their little fingers wrapped around his own as they toddle beside him.

Sure, some people might call him a helicopter parent. But he’s raising two little girls. The world is a dangerous place, and he’s not taking any chances. Let someone even think about looking at them the wrong way—his smile might be soft, but his presence is terrifying. No one is getting near his babies. And if anyone dares to question his overprotectiveness? He simply tilts his head, that ever-calm voice carrying something dangerous beneath the surface:

"Would you rather I let them run loose? Hm?"

Suguru is a morning person, but not in the “up at dawn” kind of way. No, he savors the mornings, stretches them out as long as possible, slow and quiet, just the way he likes it. He wakes before you do. Always. Most mornings, he watches you sleep for a little while, fingers tracing slow patterns along your hip, your back, wherever he can touch (loves your stretch marks). Something is intoxicating about these quiet moments, the way you breathe so softly, the warmth of your skin against his. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, presses the gentlest kiss to your temple.

You belong to him. It’s a dangerous thought, but one he doesn’t fight.

The twins usually wake up before you do, one always stirring the other, little giggles or babbling voices breaking the silence. Suguru moves without a hint of hesitation, careful not to wake you as he slips out of bed, padding softly toward their room. Suguru melts every single time. His girls, half-asleep, hair messy, rubbing their tiny fists against their eyes, reach for him instantly with little grabby hands. Lifts them with ease, one in each arm, pressing a kiss to both of their foreheads before settling them against his chest.

"Did my little princesses sleep well?"

Cue sleepy nods, little arms clinging to him as he carries them downstairs. He makes breakfast with one toddler perched on his hip, the other playing on the floor nearby. Feeds them, cleans them up, all before you even wake up. He wants you to rest, wants you to have the luxury of a slow morning. By the time you stir, he’s already setting a cup of tea on your bedside table, pressing a kiss to your forehead before murmuring, “Stay in bed. I’ll bring you breakfast.”

And if you dare try to get up? Oh, you better believe he’s scooping you back under the covers, lips ghosting against your ear as he hums, “You don’t want to upset me, do you?” Playful, teasing, but firm.

(Yeah, okay—maybe he’s a little possessive. But can you blame him? You gave him his whole world.)

Suguru is the definition of a doting husband. Not just in the classic ways. Sure, he makes sure you’re comfortable, that you’re taken care of, but it’s the smallest details that make it clear: this man worships you. He brushes your hair at night, fingers ghosting against your skin. “You’re so beautiful,” a soft murmur like it’s an afterthought. Like he just has to say it. Absolutely loves watching you with the twins. The way your voice softens when you talk to them, the way you hold them close. He lives for it. (It does something to him, something dangerous.) Insists on tucking you in every night. Even if you’re already comfortable, even if he’s exhausted, he needs to make sure you’re safe, warm, and content. It’s his job.

When it comes to you leaving his sight? Absolutely not. You get up to leave the room? He’s watching you (on the cameras in the house, that you definitely aren't aware of). Someone dares to ask for your attention when he’s near? His hand is on your lower back before you even notice, a soft smile on his lips, but the grip is tight. God help anyone who thinks they can come between him and his family.

Because Geto Suguru might be soft with you, but for everyone else?

He’s still a damn curse user.

Nanami Kento

If there’s any man built for family life, it’s Nanami. Sure, he’s stoic. Composed. A man of few words. But when it comes to his child? Dear god, he is so soft. He loves them in a way that feels fundamental, as natural as breathing. Loves you even more for giving him something so precious. He doesn’t say it often, but it’s in every glance, every touch, every sigh of appreciation when he looks at you holding his child.

And when he holds them? He feels whole.

He savors every little moment, tiny fingers reaching for his glasses, drooly kisses pressed against his cheeks as he spoon-feeds them baby food. And no matter how messy they get, no matter how much mashed-up fruit ends up on his tie (his good tie, at that), he never complains. He just exhales, wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, and murmurs, "You're a messy little thing, aren’t you?" before pressing a kiss to their forehead, regardless of the applesauce smeared across it.

Because for Nanami, this, his family, his home, the life he’s built with you, this is everything.

Nanami is an early riser. He always has been. But the difference now? He no longer rushes out the door and only lives for his work.

Instead, he takes his time.

Tends to wake up before you, slipping out of bed with careful movements so he doesn’t disturb you. The first thing he does is check on your little one—peering into their crib, watching their tiny chest rise and fall with soft, even breaths. It’s the only time he allows himself to just stand there, quietly admiring, drinking in the sight of the most important thing in his world.

If they stir, if they so much as whimper, he’s immediately reaching down, scooping them up with ease, holding them against his chest as he rubs slow circles on their back.

"It’s alright, little one. I’ve got you."

Mornings are meant to be spent slowly, feeding them breakfast (with a bib, he learned his lesson the hard way), wiping their tiny hands clean, and carrying them in one arm as he makes coffee with the other. If you’re still asleep, he lets you stay that way, keeping the house quiet, and making sure you get as much rest as possible. Because Nanami knows better than anyone, that being a parent is exhausting. And if he can shoulder some of the weight for you? He will.

Nanami isn’t possessive. Not in the way that Gojo or Geto might be.

But is he protective? Absolutely.

Taking his kid to the park is a mission. He doesn’t hover, per se, but he’s always watching. Sitting on a bench, arms crossed, eyes locked in. The second his child starts running a little too fast? He’s standing. Someone else’s kid gets a little too rough? He’s walking over. And if his child falls? He gives them a second—just one—to see if they’ll get up on their own. But the moment he hears a wobbly inhale, sees that little lip start to tremble—he’s already there. Kneeling beside them, checking them over with careful hands, murmuring, “You’re alright, sweetheart. Just a little scrape.” And then, with the gentlest look in his eyes:

"Do you want to keep playing, or do you need a hug first?"

(They always choose the hug.)

Nanami adores you. But not in a loud way. Not in the way that Gojo teases or the way Geto smothers. No, Nanami loves you in a way that feels steady. Like safety. Like home. Always makes sure you eat first, even if it means letting his food get cold. Takes care of the night feedings if you’re too exhausted. Rubs your shoulders when you look tense, presses a kiss to the back of your hand just because.

And when the baby’s asleep? That’s your time. Some nights, it’s just the two of you sitting in quiet conversation, his hand resting over yours, thumb rubbing absentmindedly against your skin. Other nights, he just holds you, silent, warm... present. When the exhaustion is heavy in your bones, when you sigh in a way that sounds just a little too much like overwhelmed, he cups your face, tilts your chin up so you meet his gaze.

"You’re doing an incredible job," he tells you, because if anyone deserves to be reassured, it’s you, and god help anyone who dares to make you doubt it.

Ryomen Sukuna

In a modern AU, if anything could fix Ryomen Sukuna, it would be a child. Not that the kid was planned, of course. But the moment he sees them—tiny, fragile, utterly defenseless—something inside him shifts. He won’t admit it, won’t say it outright, but watching his newborn slobber all over his hand while teething? Yeah, he crumples inside.

At first, he’s clueless. He’s never had to be gentle before. His hands, powerful and ruthless, were never meant for something so delicate. You have to show him how to hold them properly, how to support their head, how to not look at them like they’re a fragile piece of glass about to shatter.

And does he complain? Oh, absolutely. But he listens, he's trying.

Modern AU Sukuna is absolutely a CEO. And not just any CEO, a powerful, slightly (or very) corrupt one. The kind of man that has everyone terrified to breathe wrong in his presence. Yet, despite his intimidating reputation, there are certain days when his employees come to work to find something... unbelievable. Their ruthless, cutthroat boss—Ryomen Sukuna—sitting at the head of a massive conference table, looking utterly unbothered as his baby naps against his chest in a tiny carrier.

The first time it happened, his employees did not know how to react. The sight of their terrifying boss with a wobbly-headed infant suckling on his tie was so surreal that no one dared to acknowledge it. They just continued their meeting in absolute silence, stealing panicked glances at one another, unsure whether laughing would get them fired, killed, or both.

Sukuna however, oh, he knows what they’re thinking. He can feel the tension in the room, the way no one is making eye contact with him. So naturally, he makes it worse.

"If any of you wake them up," he drawls, voice dark and smooth, "I’ll fire you on the spot." Cue nervous sweating from every executive in the room. Despite his threats, you know he does this because he wants to give you a break. Of course, he acts like it’s no big deal, grumbling about how "You never shut up about needing rest, woman. If bringing the brat to work gives me some damn peace at home, then so be it."

(The truth is that he secretly enjoys it. The small weight of his child against him, the quiet little snores, the way their tiny fingers sometimes curl around his thumb mid-nap. Yeah… he might actually like this fatherhood thing.)

At home, Sukuna tries to maintain his usual cold, indifferent demeanor. But it’s hard when he’s got a wobbly toddler clinging to his leg, looking up at him with your eyes, babbling nonsense like he’s the most important person in the world.

Obviously, he can’t just ignore them. "Tch. What do you want, brat?" (Picks them up anyway)

You catch him napping on the couch with the baby on his chest, one hand protectively covering their back. If you so much as mention it, he glares at you like you’ve just committed treason. Bath time? He claims he hates it, but somehow, he’s always the one washing their hair, grumbling under his breath about how “You’re doing it wrong” as he takes over. If they cry? He’s terrible at comforting, but god forbid anyone else try to step in. That’s his kid, he’ll figure it out himself.

He’s not soft, he insists. Not in the way Nanami or Geto might be. But when he tucks them into bed at night, sitting on the edge of their tiny mattress, watching their little chest rise and fall…something inside him settles. Suddenly realized he’d burn the entire world to the ground for them.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #ryoumen sukuna #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk #jjk drabble #jjk fluff #Tw: babies

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gguk-n · 7 months ago

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Silent Connections (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Summary- In a world where soulmates exist. Some people can hear their soulmates thoughts, but only when they think. Oscar isn't sure he has a soulmate.

Oscar Piastri wasn't even sure he had a soulmate. His mum would talk about how she could hear his dad's thoughts and how they met for the first time but Oscar had yet to hear a single thought from his soulmate. He even voiced his concern once; "I don't think I have a soulmate" he told his mum when he was 5. His mother consoled him and tried to cheer him up.

Oscar was shocked, he skid his kart in the middle of the race and almost crashed out when he heard it. A giggly voice, he wasn't even sure what she said but he was sure, it was her. Maybe he didn't finish that race but he knew now that he had a soulmate. He told his dad as soon as he hopped out of the kart. But he didn't really hear her after that, not for a while. He doubted himself again, maybe he hallucinated that. But as if on cue, he heard it loud and clear; she's a meany. I hate her. It made Oscar laugh out loud; he was 9 and meany was a pretty bad thing to call anyone.

With time, Oscar would hear some parts of his soulmate's thoughts. That's how he learned what she sounded like since his mum said he would hear her thoughts in her voice. Oscar loved his soulmate's voice, he was sure he would love her too; the moment they met. He couldn't wait to meet the love of his life.

Y/N knew she had a soulmate. She knew since she could form thoughts. She could hear him, in her head. It would get chaotic and annoying at times. She couldn't think properly. She could recognise her soulmate's voice even in her sleep since that boy didn't stop thinking. The first thoughts of his that she remembers are about some cars. She wasn't sure what they meant but she did learn a lot about cars from him. She was practically a natural when it came to driving and she only had her soulmate to thank for it.

Even if her soulmate's thoughts were chaotic and annoying sometimes, there were time when she was happy to have his voice in her head, especially on shitty day's like today. She failed her test, her car broke down and she had an assignment to submit in 12 hours with a blue screened laptop. She had started bawling when his smooth voice cut through her. It's fine. I can do it. I've come this far. I'll achieve my dream. I have to keep going. Y/N was glad for his constant reassurance even if it was not for her. Thank you soulmate. I hope you get whatever you want because your thoughts comfort me everyday. Oscar heard it. His brain stopped working, this was the first time they had had a conversation of any sort.

Y/N had pursued a career in cars, she wasn't sure what she would do but she did automobile engineering since her soulmate rubbed off on her. She knew she should've done some research on the company she was joining but she forgot and right now she was standing in a room full of her new colleagues when her eyes landed on a man in a orange shirt and black shorts. He's fucking hot. She thought but Oscar heard it loud and clear. Who's hot? He thought, face visibly annoyed. He's so cute annoyed. She couldn't help but swoon over the orange shirt man. Hey! you have a soulmate you know Oscar huffed. Y/N giggled Sorry Mr Soulmate, I'm sure you're hotter she reassured. Oscar smiled. I wanna make him smile like that. Y/N thought looking at the orange shirt guy smile. Oscar was getting annoyed by the second with who ever his soulmate found attractive.

Y/N was called by her team to introduce herself to the drivers who they would be building the cars for. The first man introduced himself as Lando Norris with a smile. Y/N smiled back and then the other spoke, "I'm Oscar Piastri" making Y/N's eyes bulge out. That voice, she could recognise it anywhere and he was an athlete. How long ago would they have met had she known? My Soulmate's fucking pale. was the first thing Oscar heard making him quickly scan the room. Y/N smiled at Oscar looking for her, his soulmate. "Hi, I'm Y/N Y/L/N" she introduced herself. Oscar's eyes landed on her before muttering, "soulmate" a small smile playing on his lips.

The two of them were able to slip away from the team; "I can't believe this is how I meet you. If I knew you were famous, I would've stalked you years ago" Y/N rambled. "No wonder I couldn't hear your thoughts. You don't think" Oscar laughed. Y/N caught herself blushing, embarrassed. "You're cute though" Oscar stated. "If it's any consolation, the guy I thought was fucking hot was you" she bit her lips. It was Oscar's turn to blush. "As long as I'm the only man you find hot, I have no problem" he said. "Maybe, we should exchange numbers?" she suggested. "Yeah" Oscar smiled. This was the start of a forever the two of them had been waiting for, for a long long time.

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thanosscross · 6 months ago

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HII I REALLY LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH, i hope your willing to write about pregnant reader x thanos yk, thanos didn't know she was pregnant before they break up and then they meet up again the games and he finds out player 222 and player 333 type stuff 😭

Of course! We love this!!

Good person - Choi Su- Bong x pregnant! reader

Summary: After leaving Thanos, you encounter him again in a serious death game, only this time the stakes are lot higher

Warnings: Not much, just your usual squid game gore

A/n: Sorry it's so short! I'm going to try and start adding some length to my stories again especially my Thanos stories so stay tuned for those longer stories, trust me they are coming, they're just takin a lil time

You had told yourself whenever you signed up, you'd be as careful as possible, and that it was all for your baby, after leaving their father and being disowned for choosing to be single mother, you were left with little to nothing, so of course you took the chance to get money.

As you woke up in the giant room you soon came to regret your decision, seeing your sperm donor just a few feet in front of you, focused on the screen reading off debts "Y/n L/n, 25 million won" The guard shouted, showing you getting smacked across the face, quickly holding an arm over your stomach afterwards. Almost like he knew, as soon as your name was called out, his head snapped to yours "Senorita! You're here!?" He shouted in shock "No Way!" He shouted as he walked closer, you attempted to curl your body up away from him, but due to the six month pregnancy belly, you could only bend your legs closer to you slightly.

"Please leave, Thanos" You grunted, trying your best to keep him at a distance, for all he knew you had taken a plan B after your last hook up and that was it. Instead he just kept approaching until he was standing in front of you "What're you doing here!?" He asked excited, you just shook your head "trying to get my family and I money after my sorry excuse of a boyfriend convinced me to buy stupid ass crypto?" You said like it was obvious, it wasn't like you were entirely lying, you just didn't specify what family.

Going into red light green light, you were cocky at first, knowing you could do this easy, until the shooting started, players falling left and right, while your baby dad just skipped and danced his way to you down the field "You never answered me, Senorita" He repeated, placing his hands on your hips, terrified of what he might do, especially after watching him shove other players to win "I-I'm pregnant" You blurted, you couldn't help it, between your fear of dying by Thanos or the game was too much, you just wanted to get out of this alive, you didn't think it'd be this serious, if you did, you never would've done this. "Haha" He laughed sarcastically before looking at your face as the doll called out red light, he was in front of you now, and you were visibly shaking, Thanos using his body to try and shield you from the sensors "for real, flower?" He asked, his tone a lot more deep and raspy, you could tell he sobered up quick upon the realization you weren't joking. "I-I forgot the pill after hooked up a few months ago! a-and I left because I knew you couldn't be a responsible dad" You blurted, unable to contain your emotions as the hormones in your body were on overdrive.

Thanos was frozen, staring at you in shock before finally snapping out of it as the doll called green light, he grabbed your arm holding you behind him as he followed the others past the red line "Just stay behind me" He whispered, your words stung, how could you be so sure of how he'd be as a dad if you never gave him a chance? As you made your way back to the giant main room, you took notice to Thanos's hand on your back leading you to the bed "Sit, you don't put yourself through too much" He explained softly, helping you over to your bunks before eyeing Nam-Gyu "Give her your bed, man" he demanded, his friend stuttering before giving up and giving you his bed that was floor level, him taking your third bunk bed. "Thanos" You warned, not wanting him to make it a huge deal "What?! You're huge! You don't need to be climbing!" He shouted before catching his tone, apologizing quietly "Okay, well One, that was very very rude, two, I can do whatever I please, if I feel like I can't do something, I'll tell you" You stated poking him in the chest with your finger, he just smirked at you, biting his bottom lip slightly "Have I ever told you, it's hot whenever you yell at me" he asked, trying his best to charm you, but instead you just flicked his forehead in annoyance "Get away, freak" You replied, he just smiled at you, sitting at the foot of your bunk "So it's my baby?" He asked smiling pointing to your stomach "Well, if not I'd be concerned" You said raising your eyebrows at him "Can I..touch it?.." He asked nervously "it's not an it, it's your daughter" you glared, before grabbing his hand slipping it under your jacket, pressing his finger down in just the right spot to get the small baby inside of you to move around "Woah..weird" He said grimacing as he pulled away in disgust "Really!?" You gasped in shock laughing loudly, somehow forgetting you were in a death game for a moment "Yea! You have a whole human inside of you! That's weird!" He laughed, resting his hand on yours "You put it there, Su-bong!" You argued, you swore sometimes you got with a completely dumbass.

"Y/n..If you'll let me...I wanna be there..I don't want to be like my dad" He frowned, squeezing your hand gently "Please?" He begged "I know I fucked up bad, but, I want to try again, please" He continued, you glared at him for a moment before sighing "How can I trust you? And you'll have to get clean, for real clean, not how you're usually clean" You added on, you just watched as he nodded his head, no faces or complaints "You're actually serious aren't you?..." you asked sweetly "I want to be a good person for you, y/n, please" He whispered, pressing his lips to your knuckles "I guess..but you only get one chance" You offered, he just nodded before flopping himself next to you "Thank you!" He cheered pressing multiple kisses all over your face as he chanted his thank you's, not realizing the next 18-19 years were going to be hell for the both of you.

The rest of the games, Thanos was always on you, making sure you didn't over do yourself or risk hurting yourself or your baby, charming you right back into his arms.

Taglist!!

@acehasmyheart

@corrdelia

@ag022123

#t.o.p x reader #thanos x reader #choi su bong x reader #choi seunghyun #squid game thanos #top x reader #squid game #squidgame #thanos squid game #thanos x reader smut #choi seung hyun x reader #thanos/choi su bong #su bong x reader #t.o.p bigbang #bigbang

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joemama-2 · 7 months ago

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velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 18.2k (don't kill me) tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: I'm dead, ik i said i wouldn’t write again for a couple days but i had a moment of epiphany series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

Walking through the long, but suffocating hallways of the office is excruciating for Satoru—it always is. Today, it feels extra excruciating. He’s been out of the office for a few days now, ignoring his business responsibilities and family, he knows he’ll probably face hell today. How painful.

“Good morning, Mr. Gojo.”

“Hello, Mr. Gojo.”

“Nice to see you, Mr. Gojo.”

“Mr. Gojo!”

A voice says, one he clocks as his secretary. He sighs, but continues to walk forward, forcing Aiko to practailly sprint just to catch up with him. There’s stacks of papers in her arms, her cheeks red with a small sheen of sweat painting her skin. And it’s only the start of the day. He almost starts feel bad for her. “Mr. Gojo! Where have you been? I’ve called and texted, I even went to your house and you weren’t there!”

“Vacation.” he says curtly, not breaking his stride. His tone is clipped, his voice devoid of any real emotion, and it’s enough to make Aiko falter for just a second.

“A vacation?!” she exclaims, breathless. “You didn’t even leave a notice! Do you have any idea how many calls I’ve had to field from your father’s office? They were—”

“Livid. Yeah, I’m sure.” Satoru waves a hand dismissively, rounding a corner and heading toward the elevator. Aiko scrambles to keep up, adjusting the stack of papers precariously balanced in her arms.

“They’re expecting you in the boardroom at ten,” she says, her voice slightly frantic. “And Mr. Gojo said if you didn’t show up this time, he’d—”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he interrupts, pressing the elevator button with unnecessary force. The tension in his shoulders is palpable, but his face remains a mask of indifference.

“Yes, but—” Aiko stops herself, hesitating. Her voice softens. “Are you okay, sir?”

For a moment, Satoru freezes. The elevator dings, the doors sliding open, but he doesn’t move. The question hangs in the air like a challenge he isn’t ready to face. “Peachy,” he finally says, stepping inside. Aiko hesitates before following, fumbling with the papers in her arms. Once she’s inside, Satoru presses the number 15, doors soon closing. The ascent to the highest floor of the high rise office building begins. As the elevator begins its rising, the silence is thick and awkward. Satoru leans against the mirrored wall, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the glowing numbers above the doors. “You’ve got a lot to catch up on,” Aiko ventures, breaking the silence. “There’s the overseas partnership meeting at noon, and your parents are waiting to—”

“They’ll wait,” Satoru cuts her off, his tone colder now. “I’m not on their clock.”

Aiko flinches but doesn’t argue. She adjusts the papers again, her gaze darting nervously to him before focusing on the floor. “Mr. Gojo, they seemed very serious today, more than usual. Your mother was even holding back tears, but she didn’t look sad, she looked…angry.”

His mind turns into uncertainty. His mother’s here and she’s crying? Did he piss them off that much? Well, she’s always been quite the dramatic woman. It can’t be that bad. When the elevator doors open, Satoru steps out without a word, leaving Aiko to scurry after him in usual form. The sound of his shoes clicking against the polished marble floor echoes through the hallway as Satoru walks toward his personal office. Aiko struggles to keep up, her footsteps hurried and uneven behind him.

He caresllesy pushes his doors open, going over to plop himself down in his chair behind the desk. Heavily exhaling while ltilting his head back, eyes fixated on the bare ceiling above. Seems like his carelessness is going to catch up with him today. Although he’d rather not deal with anything business related right now, especially his parents, he’s been gone more than he should. He can already anticipate he’ll leave late today, the monotonous voices of the businessmen, the disapproving words from his parents, the headache that will break through around noon, and the lingering, mundane question in the back of his mind of what you and Koji will be eating tonight for dinner. Maybe I should send her some money to eat out, or to buy a few groceries?

However, another thought makes its presence known by her very…unpleasant voice. He almost forget about her.

“Satoru!”

Aiko squeaks as she’s negligently pushed to the side by Himari, some of the papers flying out her hands—to which she bends down to pick it up, giving the other woman an annoyed glance. Himari plops into Satoru’s lap, arms instinctively moving around his neck. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick, baby. I thought something happened.”

Satoru doesn't react at first, his head still tilted back, eyes glued to the ceiling. His jaw tightens ever so slightly, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Himari presses herself closer, her fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck as she leans in. Her voice softens, pink lips downturning into a pout, dripping with almost a faux sense of concern. “You didn’t answer my calls, Satoru. I thought we were past all this disappearing nonsense. What’s going on?”

Aiko straightens up from the floor, her lips pressed into a thin line as she shuffles the papers back into order. “Excuse me, Ms. Nakamura,” she says tightly, her eyes flicking toward Satoru. “Mr. Gojo has a full schedule today. If you need to discuss personal matters, perhaps—”

“Not now, you,” Himari cuts her off without looking, her attention solely on Satoru. “This is between Satoru and I, not the help.”

Aiko bristles but doesn’t argue, standing stiffly by the door.

Satoru finally moves, letting out a low sigh as he straightens his posture, forcing Himari to shift slightly on his lap. His hands rest limply on the armrests of his chair, making no effort to return her embrace. “Himari,” he says flatly, his voice void of any attempt at warmth. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?” She pulls back just enough to look at him, her perfectly shaped brows furrowing. “Too busy to call me? To even let me know you’re alive?” Her voice rises slightly, her frustration barely contained. “You just vanished, and I had to find out from your secretary that you weren’t even in the office!”

His lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. “And yet, here I am. Alive and well.”

“That’s not the point!” Himari huffs, her grip on him tightening as if to keep him from brushing her off. “You can’t just disappear like that, Satoru. It’s irresponsible. It’s—”

“Unprofessional? Reckless? Embarrassing?” he interrupts, his tone sharp enough to make her flinch slightly. “Yeah, I’ve heard it all before. What do you want me to say, Himari? I have my own life too, baby.”

She stares at him, her lips parting as if to respond, but no words come out. For a moment, the air between them is thick with tension. Her expression shifts, the frustration giving way to something colder. “You’ve been acting strange lately,” she says, her tone accusing. “Ever since—” She stops herself, her eyes narrowing. “Ever since last time I saw you.” Himari doesn’t move from his lap immediately, her arms tightening around his neck as if trying to pull him closer. Her perfectly manicured nails graze his skin, and she leans in, her voice then dropping into something softer, more coaxing. “You know I’m only upset because I care about you,” she says, her eyes searching his face. “You can’t keep shutting me out like this, Satoru. I’m your girlfriend, for heaven’s sake. I’m supposed to be the person you lean on.”

Satoru doesn’t respond right away. His head tilts slightly, his expression unreadable as he studies her. The silence stretches on long enough for Himari to shift uncomfortably. His eyes move to hers, the first real spark of emotion flashing across his face. “You have to understand, okay? I’m… going through stuff right now, I just needed a break.”

“A break from me?”

“Himari.” His voice is quieter now, the edge in it is unmistakable, but also resigned. He continues, willing himself to react calmly, “you’re not helping by showing up here unannounced.”

“Unannounced?” she scoffs, her tone sharpening again. “I wouldn’t have to if you actually answered your phone. Or your emails. Or—oh, I don’t know—told me where the hell you were!”

“I needed space,” he repeats simply, his gaze drifting toward the window behind her.

“Space?” she repeats incredulously. “From me?” Her voice trembles slightly, though whether it’s from anger or hurt, even she doesn’t seem sure. “You can’t just disappear without saying anything, Satoru. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to have your parents calling me, asking if I know where you are? To have my parents asking why their future son-in-law is MIA?”

Future son in law. That makes his brows furrow, a frown taking place on his face. “I didn’t ask you to answer for me,” he says evenly, his eyes meeting hers again.

“No, you didn’t,” she snaps, pulling back further now. “But you also didn’t give me a choice. What was I supposed to do? Just sit there and let everyone think I don’t know what’s going on with my own boyfriend?”

“You could have,” he says with a shrug, the corner of his mouth lifting in a ghost of a smirk. “Might’ve been easier.”

Her jaw drops, and for a moment, she looks genuinely stunned. “Are you serious right now? You’re impossible, Satoru. Absolutely impossible.”

“I’ve been told,” he says lightly, but there’s no humor in his voice.

She gets up abruptly, smoothing her Valentino Garavino dress with quick, agitated movements. “This isn’t funny,” she says, her tone colder now. “You think you can just brush me off like this? Like I don’t matter? I’m the one who’s been by your side all this time, Satoru. Me.”

He sighs. “Just stop, please.”

“I’m just saying,” Himari presses on, her voice a little too sharp, “I’ve been dealing with this mess all on my own, while you’ve been out who knows where—doing who knows what—and now I’m supposed to just pretend everything is fine? That’s not how this works.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” Satoru says with finality, his patience running thin. “I didn’t ask you to sit here, waiting for me, wondering where I’ve been. I needed a break. A chance to breathe.”

“From me?” she asks again, disbelief written across her face.

He decides to concede. “Yes,” he says quietly. “From everything. You wouldn’t understand.”

Himari falters for a moment, her face flickering with a mixture of hurt and frustration. “And I don’t matter enough for you to tell me why?”

His gaze softens, just for a second, but it quickly hardens again. “I don’t need to explain myself, Himari.” He looks away from her, not trusting himself to speak without snapping. There’s a quiet but heavy tension hanging in the air.

“I thought we had something,” Himari says after a long pause, her voice quieter now, though the hurt still lingers in her tone. “I thought I meant more to you.”

“You do,” Satoru replies, the words sounding almost empty, even to him. “But right now, I need time to sort things out. Can you understand that?”

She glares at him for a moment longer before letting out an exasperated huff. “Fine. Fuck it, ignore things like you always do.” She grabs her bag, turning on her heel. “But don’t think I’m just going to sit around waiting for you to figure things out. You owe me better than this, Satoru.” She storms out, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, leaving Aiko awkwardly standing in the doorway.

Satoru remains frozen in his chair, staring at the empty space she left behind. He exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his face as his mind drifts back to the other matters weighing on him. The silence feels suffocating, and even though his thoughts want to wander to her—to you—he forces himself to focus. But something lingers, something unsettled that he can’t shake.

Aiko clears her throat, stepping forward cautiously. “Um… should I reschedule your morning meetings, sir?”

Satoru leans back in his chair again, closing his eyes briefly. “No,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just… give me five minutes.” Aiko nods, backing out of the room and closing the door softly behind her. Alone now, Satoru exhales heavily, the weight of the morning and what’s to come settling over him like a thick fog.

Jesus Christ. Can I just have one day without everyone breathing down my fucking neck?

“And so, this is why my team and I believe it’s prevalent to keep things neutral, but cordial with the Nexus Group.” The head of the negotiation team, a sharp-dressed man in his late forties with a voice as dry as the monotony of the topic at hand, clicked through another slide of the dull PowerPoint presentation which casted faint shadows over the darkened boardroom. The screen displayed a web of connections and partnerships that Nexus had with other firms, none of which particularly interested Satoru.

Neutral and cordial. Two words he had no patience for today.

He slouched slightly in his chair, his fingers drumming against the polished wood of the table. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses—his mother would’ve had a fit if she saw him disrespecting the board by doing so—but he felt the familiar strain behind his eyes nonetheless, holding back a heavy sigh.

“Mr. Gojo?”

The sound of his name snapped him out of his haze. He blinked, realizing the room was waiting for him to respond. All eyes were on him, some expectant, some wary. “Hm?” he hummed, sitting up just enough to look like he was paying attention.

The negotiator cleared his throat. “Your thoughts on maintaining a neutral stance with Nexus, sir?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on the projector screen, though he wasn’t really seeing it. The weight of everything—the meeting, his parents waiting to speak with him, you and Koji constantly in the back of his mind—made it impossible to focus. He just wishes these imbeciles could make a single decision without confiding in him first. Finally, he sighed, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think…” he began, his voice softer than usual, almost detached, “that we’ve been through this already.”

The negotiator hesitated. “Well, yes, but we wanted to ensure the approach aligns with your vision—”

“My vision?” Satoru interrupted, his tone bordering on tired amusement. He dropped his hand and glanced around the room, his expression almost blank. “My vision is that we don’t waste time overthinking what Nexus might do. If they’re going to cause problems, we deal with it. If they’re not, we move forward. Simple.”

A few people exchanged uneasy glances, but no one argued; they know better. “Understood, sir,” the negotiator said, his voice quieter now.

Satoru didn’t reply, turning his gaze to the window instead. The faint reflection of the room in the glass blurred with the skyline beyond. He couldn’t remember the last time he truly cared about one of these meetings. The discussion carried on around him, voices blending into a low hum. Every so often, someone would glance his way, but he didn’t react. His thoughts drifted, heavier and heavier, to the inevitable confrontation waiting for him after this meeting. He sighed slowly, shifting in his chair. The tension building in his chest had been there for days, clawing at him, and this—this pointless back-and-forth—only made it worse.

“Satoru,” Nanami’s voice cut through the fog, quiet but firm, “want to wrap this up for today?” Satoru blinked at him, then at the rest of the room. Everyone was waiting, polite smiles masking their unease. He straightened a little, though it felt like dragging himself through water

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Let’s revisit this later.” The meeting adjourned, and as the others filed out, Satoru stayed behind, staring blankly at the table. He knew he couldn’t avoid the next part of the day forever, but for now, he just wanted to sit in the quiet, even if it was only for a moment.

Nanami stays behind until the last man leaves, taking this moment to face his colleague with his usual bored—but calculated gaze. “What’s up with you? First, you go AWOL for days on end, and now you come back and look like you don’t know about a single thing that’s happening. That or you don’t care.”

“I never truly do,” Satoru replies, swiveling.

Nanami shakes his head, running a hand through his blonde locks. “Seriously, Satoru. Can you just fix up your act for the next few days, at least?”

Satoru raises a thin, white eyebrow. “Next few days, hm? Why, what’s happening in these next few days?” He uses air quotes.

“For fuck’s sake,” Nanami groans, arms crossing. “You forgot?”

Satoru tilted his head, feigning thought, though the blankness in his eyes betrayed his apathy. “Hmm... enlighten me.”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse. “The annual board dinner, Monday evening. The one where you’re expected to charm the investors and keep them from pulling out of their contracts. The dinner that your father has been planning for months.”

Satoru hummed, his head falling back against the chair with exaggerated dramatics. “Oh, that dinner. Right. The one where I play puppet for a bunch of old men who care more about profit margins than people.”

Nanami didn’t rise to the bait, though his gaze hardened. “The dinner where your family’s reputation is at stake, Satoru. It’s not optional, and you know it.”

Satoru swung his chair in a slow circle, his long legs stretched out as if the conversation wasn’t happening. “Guess I should dust off my charm, huh? Or maybe I’ll just stand there and look pretty—that usually does the trick.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened, his patience clearly wearing thin. “This isn’t a joke. You’ve already caused enough waves by disappearing last week. If you don’t show up, or worse, if you show up like this…” He gestured vaguely at Satoru, encompassing his disheveled demeanor. “…then don’t expect your father, especially your mother to forgive you anytime soon.”

Satoru stopped spinning, his chair facing Nanami now. He rested his elbow on the armrest, propping his chin in his hand. “You sound like her, you know. Should I start calling you ‘Mom’ too?”

Nanami rolled his eyes, clearly done with the conversation. “Do whatever you want, Satoru. Just don’t screw this up.” With that, he turned and walked towards the doors. Stopping for a second and giving one last thought. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to stop running from your responsibilities, it’s catching up with you.” Then, the sound of the door shutting behind him follows, leaving Satoru alone in the silence once more.

For a long moment, Satoru stayed where he was, the room empty except for the faint hum of the projector. He stared blankly at the table, his mind a tangle of thoughts he didn’t want to undo. He let out a heavy puff of air, the sound filling the silence. “Yeah,” he muttered to no one in particular. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” He shakes his head, the density of Nanami’s words settling over him like a heavy cloak. The idea of the board dinner—of facing his parents, the investors, the endless expectations—made his chest tighten. But even that wasn’t the heaviest thing on his mind. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. His finger hovered over the screen, debating whether to send a message. Whether to ask you if you were okay, if Koji had eaten, if you’d even want to hear from him. Instead, he locked the phone and tossed it onto the desk, leaning back in his chair. For now, all he could do was sit in the quiet and try to pull himself together before the next storm hit.

Nanami’s right, it’s catching up to him.

“Where is that little bastard?”

“Mrs. Gojo!”

“Where is he?”

“I-I believe he’s still in the—”

The doors abruptly opening causes Satoru’s head to swivel in the direction of them. He almost wishes he just sink into a hole. The face of his mother, looking pretty damn pissed off, is glaring at him. A familiar look to her son. He still doesn’t know what he did wrong—besides ignoring the business for a week. Still, she’s that upset? “You,” she points a red nail in her son’s direction, to which he stands up. “Get your ass in your father’s office, now.”

“For what?” Satoru asks, though he’s already making his way to her. He then yelps out in surprise when his mother reaches her hand up and pinches his earlobe between her two fingers. “Ow! Mom! What the hell?!”

“Shut it, boy.” She snaps out, hauling his ass down the corridor to his father’s office. The employees watch on, eyes wide with curiosity and surprise as their boss is practically getting manhandled by his own mother like he’s a child all over again.

“Seriously, Mom, let go!” Satoru hissed, trying to pry her fingers off his ear without much success.

“You don’t get to make demands today, Satoru,” she snapped, her grip tightening. “Not after the mess you’ve made.”

“What mess?!” he exclaimed, stumbling slightly as she yanked him forward.

“Oh, don’t act clueless. You’re in enough trouble, don’t you dare add stupidity to the list,” she shot back.

By the time they reached his father’s office, Satoru was basically limping from the awkward gait forced upon him. His mother flung the door open with so much force that it banged against the wall. His father, seated behind his imposing desk, barely glanced up, though the faint crease in his brow betrayed his irritation. “Ah, the prodigal son,” his father drawled, setting down his pen and folding his hands neatly in front of him. “We were wondering when you’d grace us with your presence.”

“Trust me, this wasn’t my idea,” Satoru muttered, rubbing his ear as his mother finally released him. He straightened his jacket with an exaggerated sigh and flopped into the chair across from his father.

“You’re lucky I didn’t drag you here sooner,” his mother said, slamming the door shut. She crossed her arms and went to stand beside her husband, her sharp gaze fixed on her son.

Satoru rolled his eyes. “Alright, what’s this about? I already know you’re mad about last week. Can’t we just skip to the part where you yell at me for being irresponsible and I promise to do better?”

His father didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached into a drawer, pulled out a folder, and slid it across the desk. “We’re not here to rehash your usual antics, Satoru. This is about something far more… shocking.”

“What’s this?”

“Open it.” His parents say in firm unison.

Satoru frowned, his carefree demeanor wavering as he picked up the folder. He opened it lazily, but his body went rigid when his eyes landed on the photograph inside—a picture of him, arms wrapped around Koji, with you standing to the side, your expression tender, smiling. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting the sudden tense silence suffocate the room.

“What the hell?” Satoru whispered, his mind racing.

His mother’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Care to explain, Satoru?”

For once, he had nothing to say.

“I….” he gulps, fists clenching around the photograph. His jaw ticks, brows furrowing in the middle. “Where did you get this?” Satoru’s voice was low.

“We could ask you the same,” his mother snapped, her tone icy. “Who is that child, Satoru?”

Satoru doesn’t answer, instead hyper-fixating on the picture. His father didn’t wait for him to respond either. “We had to hire someone to track you down after you disappeared. Imagine our surprise when they came back with this.” He gestured to the photo.

He looks back at his parents, meeting them with an equally deathly stare, blue eyes bouncing off one another. “You’ve been fucking spying on me?”

“You gave us no choice,” Akane responds, upset with her son’s tone. “You disappeared, we were worried, and now—” she huffs in disbelief. “Now we come to find out…this! What is this, Satoru?”

“Don’t talk about him like that.”

“I’ll do whatever I damn well please,” his mother counters.

Her son’s eyes turn dark, and anger beginning to rise up beneath his flesh. Willing himself to calm down and not snap. He looks between his father and mother, not even sure what to say at this moment. First, he’s pissed they sent someone to watch and follow him, second, how did he not notice? And third, they know. They fucking know. He’s barely figuring shit out on his own and now his parents are involved in the mix.

Yamato reels in a long breath, standing up from his chair. He walks out from behind his desk and stops in front of his carbon copy. “Satoru, who is that boy?”

A rhetorical question, it has to be. They just want him to admit it. They know who it is—who he is to Satoru. They’d be blind if they didn’t. Satoru gulps, biting the inside of his cheek before slowly responding. His words are hushed and careful, but filled with pride. “My son.”

Akane huffs quietly from her spot. “Oh my god.” She runs her hands through her hair, taking a seat in her husband’s chair, shaky hand fanning herself.

Neither son nor father looks at her, continuing to practically look into one another’s soul. It’s funny, he thinks. Two fathers face to face. If this was a different situation, Satoru probably would have made a snide remark about his old man looking hilarious with his wrinkly frown. The latter would then battle and say he’s not wrinkly.

But this isn't a different situation. This is a moment steeped in tension, every second thick with the weight of unspoken truths. The air feels like it's pressing down on Satoru’s chest, and the silence between them stretches unnervingly long. Yamato doesn’t break eye contact, his gaze cold, cutting through the room like a blade. "Your son," he repeats, as though testing the words in his mouth, as though the very utterance holds the power to shatter everything Satoru thought he knew about his own life.

Akane's nervous laugh breaks the heavy stillness. "I can’t even... this is just—" Her voice falters, the shock settling into a mix of disbelief and growing anger. She stands up again, pacing behind the desk, as if the movement might release the pressure building in her chest. "You’ve been hiding this? From us? All this time, Satoru?"

Satoru’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. He wants to lash out, to unleash the storm building within him, but he forces himself to stand tall, to mask the inner turmoil. His pulse is loud in his ears, the rush of blood roaring through him as his parents' words sink into him like cold nails.

But it’s Yamato’s next words that really cut deep. "You’ve been living a lie. And now it seems, so have we." Yamato’s voice is calm, but the edge is there, like a blade just under the surface, ready to slice through the fragile veneer of Satoru’s carefully constructed world.

Satoru looks down at the ground. “You guys don’t understand, I…I just found out too.”

His mother whips her head in his direction. “You what?!”

“What the hell do you mean just found out?” His father adds, in even more disbelief and confusion.

Satoru takes a slow breath, his shoulders tense as he looks up at them, meeting their incredulous stares. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he’s caught between the desire to explain everything and the overwhelming urge to stay silent, to protect the fragile piece of truth he’s only just begun to wrap his mind around. “I didn’t know,” he mutters, the words sounding foreign even to him. “I didn’t know I had a son. Until about a week ago. All of this… it’s new to me too.”

His parents stand still, processing the revelation, but the shock on their faces quickly shifts into something darker. Yamato’s expression tightens, a storm brewing behind his cold eyes. Akane's mouth opens and closes as if she’s trying to find the words, but none come. "You’re telling me," Yamato finally speaks, his voice low and menacing, "that you just found out about your own son? How does that make any damn sense?" His voice cracks on the last word, the authority and power he’s wielded for so many years suddenly slipping, revealing an underlying fury that Satoru has rarely seen.

Satoru looks away, his voice strained. “It wasn’t my choice.”

Akane's face flushes with anger, her hands shaking as she grips the edge of the desk. “This—this is absurd! We don’t even know this child!” Her voice rises in frustration, but Satoru isn’t looking at her anymore. His eyes are focused on the printed photograph still clutched tightly in his hand—the child that isn’t just a stranger, but a reflection of his own blood, staring back at him from that moment he hadn’t even known to be real.

Yamato steps closer, his gaze narrowing as he tries to force the puzzle pieces together. “You just found out… And yet, you're so protective of this child that you didn’t tell us as soon as you found out? What, you expect us to believe you’ve been kept in the dark all this time?”

Satoru’s fists clench, every nerve in his body screaming to either stand his ground or walk out. But this conversation—this confrontation—is unavoidable. He swallows hard, speaking through the tension in his chest. “I’m not lying,” he says, his voice firm, though his hands tremble. “I only learned the truth just recently..” The room falls silent. Yamato stands there, his expression unreadable, but there’s something shifting in his eyes. Something dangerous.

Akane walks over to snatch the picture out of Satoru’s hands, pointing to your figure. “Is this who I think it is?’

He nods without a second thought.

“Jesus Christ!” Akane throws her hands up, walking back to the desk. “I thought—since when—I thought you two broke up years ago, Satoru! She’s had your son this entire time?!”

His parents remember you—quite vividly, actually. The young, and sweet, but out of the league for their son. They remember the way you’d walk into a room, quiet but full of something they couldn’t quite put their finger on—strength hidden beneath the surface, even if you never showed it outright. They remember the way you’d smile shyly when they’d speak to you, eyes bright with a warmth they hadn’t seen in anyone in years. To them, you were everything they never imagined for their son—too sweet, too grounded, too otherworldly for someone like Satoru.

They remember the first time they met you, how you’d seemed so out of place in their world. They'd been skeptical at first, unsure of how you’d fit into the carefully curated life they’d built for their son. They knew Satoru, with all his charm and charm and reckless pursuit of every distraction, was always destined for someone like Himari, someone who could navigate the glitzy world they lived in. So of course, when they first heard of you, they were hesitant—maybe even disapproving. They advised Satoru to end things with you quickly, but their son was always stubborn and did things way.

You came into the picture, with your quiet resilience and soft smile, and for the first time, they saw something in their son they didn’t recognize—vulnerability. Something about you brought that out of him. And that terrified them. They thought you were the kind of woman who could have his heart in a way no one else could. They didn’t know if that was a good thing or a dangerous one. Now, looking at the picture in front of them, that same woman stands on the other side of it, framed by the memories of everything that went wrong. And in the background, a child—their grandchild—who they never even knew existed.

As charming as Satoru is, you were the first girl he brought home. With this came the first time he came to his father for ideas on what girls like for their birthday, the first time they accidentally walked in on you and Satoru in a compromising position, and the first time they heard–-consoled their son after a major heartbreak.

The first and only time, actually.

Yamato’s voice is like ice, cold and calculating. “You finished things with her, Satoru. You let her go, and you let her leave with your son. How did you have not one clue about her pregnancy?”

Akane, still shocked, looks between her husband and son, her face pale. “You were too caught up in your own damn life to notice, weren’t you? Too busy with everything else to see the consequences of it all. I thought you were having safe sex!”

Satoru grimaces slightly, guilt twisting in his gut. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know she had him. I didn’t even know until now.”

His parents exchange a glance, their expressions unreadable. Then Akane speaks, her voice sharp and cutting. “Does it matter? Does it matter that you didn’t know? What’s worse, Satoru? That you let her get away with it, or that you didn’t even care enough to find out sooner? A responsible man makes sure nothing like this happens, especially a man of your status.” Satoru can’t answer. He can’t give them what they want to hear.

Nobody says anything for longer than Satoru finds comfortable. His father leaning against his desk and rubbing a tired hand over his greying stubble. His mother continuing her dramatics, downing some water and muttering something about how she feels faint.

Finally, Yamato speaks once more, with finality in his tone. “Bring them to us.”

Satoru, immediately on the defense, shakes his head. “No, I’m not having you two chew her out and scrutinize them. They don’t deserve that.”

“No, but what we do deserve is a solution to this…” his father wants to say mess, but with a look at his son, he decides against it. “A solution. This…this changes a lot of things, Satoru. Fuck.” He sighs.

Satoru’s chest tightens at the word “solution,” as if his father is already calculating how to fix what he sees as an inconvenience, a mistake to be swept away. His hands clench into fists, but he holds his ground, knowing this conversation is about to take a turn he’s not prepared for. “I’m not having you two tear into her or my son. They’ve been through enough.”

Yamato doesn’t flinch, and doesn’t show any sign of backing down. He only looks at his son with that same icy expression. “You think I care about how you want things, Satoru? I’m telling you, this changes everything. You’ve been playing around with your life, our lives, and now there’s a child involved. You think we’re just going to let this go?” He pauses, sighing deeply as if the weight of this situation is finally starting to sink in for him, but the resentment still lingers in his voice. “This... this situation, whatever you want to call it, has consequences. And you don’t get to hide behind her or the kid forever. This isn’t just about what you want anymore.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens. “I’m not hiding behind anyone. I’m doing what’s right, even if you don’t agree with it.”

Yamato’s eyes darken, his gaze like ice, and his voice drops lower, more calculated. “You’re not doing anything, Satoru. Not yet. You don’t have a choice anymore. This changes everything. You’re going to fix this. You’re going to fix it. You’re a grown man, the heir to my legacy, and a father now apparently, so you damn well better start acting like it.”

Akane stays silent for a moment, her eyes wide as she watches the exchange, but the tension in the room grows unbearable. Finally, she speaks, her voice quieter, yet filled with frustration and disbelief. “This... this is going to affect everything. What the hell were you thinking, Satoru?”

Satoru runs a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up from deep within him. “I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t aware. But I’m not going to let you two dictate how I handle this. I’m not going to let you bully her and my son into some... I don’t know... some solution that doesn’t even make sense.”

His father’s words press down on him like a vice, and for a moment, Satoru can’t breathe. It’s not just about his son, it seems—this is bigger than that. His legacy. His future. His family. It’s all crumbling, and the pressure of it all suffocates him, the walls closing in as he tries to find the right words, something to push back against this tidal wave of expectation and control. But there’s nothing. No words that can change what’s been said. Satoru clenches his jaw, his hands trembling at his sides. He’s had enough of this, of the coldness in his father’s eyes, of the way his mother’s stare cuts through him like a blade.

“Fine,” he grits out. “Sunday. I’ll tell her to meet me at my place. But the second—and I mean the very second you two start raining it down on her, on my son, I’m kicking you both the hell out. You’re right, dad. I am a grown man, I am the heir, and I am a father. So I’ll start by protecting what’s mine—my family.” The word feels a little foreign on Satoru’s tongue. But he needs to acknowledge the reality of the situation. Sure, this is still pretty much because you couldn’t man up and tell him, but now that he’s here and involved, he’ll help. In any way he can. And that starts with making sure his parents don’t treat you like shit.

“Sunday,” Yamato repeats. “Seven sharp.”

“Fine.”

“Perfect.”

“Sure is.”

Satoru turns on his heel, heading for the door, but not before he shoots his father a final, burning glance. "And don't think for a second that I'll let you use my son as some kind of leverage in this mess. You cross that line, and there will be hell to pay."

Yamato watches him leave, his expression unreadable, but his eyes cold with something unreadable. Akane, still fanning herself, watches the exchange with a mix of disbelief and frustration, but says nothing. The air in the room thickens, a silent understanding hanging between the three of them. Satoru slams the door behind him, the force of it vibrating through the walls. As he steps into the hallway, the weight of the situation settles on him like a stone. His fingers curl into fists at his sides, his jaw set.

He'll do whatever it takes to protect you and Koji. Even if it means standing against his own parents. The idea feels strange, foreign even, but it’s the only way forward now.

This is his family.

And he’ll burn the world down to keep them safe.

Walking Koji back home from school that day, he’s chatting your ear off about the cool bugs he found on the playground that day. As you walk beside him, Koji's excitement is almost contagious. His small voice is animated, recounting every little detail about the bugs he discovered—how the ladybug was red with black spots and how he tried to catch a dragonfly but it flew away too fast. You smile softly, nodding along to his rambling, your eyes flicking down to his eager face.

“Sounds like you had a good day today, baby.”

“I did! I love school so much, Mama. Mr. Ito says I’m the smartest kid in class.”

You grimace at the mention of his teacher. You’ve luckily been able to miss him when dropping Koji off and picking him up today; but it still doesn’t deter from the fact that you’re uncomfortable that man is teaching your son, around him and many other children every day. You entertain the idea of switching schools, but you don’t think that’s possible. The other closest school is a forty-minute walk, a fifteen-minute drive. And you can’t afford that. Not to mention the tedious paperwork you’d have to go through. As long as his teacher keeps his advances in tow and doesn’t try anything funny with your son, you think you can stand seeing his face every day for a few more months until the school year ends.

The two of you make it to the lobby of your complex before you see Mr. Sato leaning against the counter, talking with the receptionist. Your lips purse, steps faltering for a slight moment before making your way over to him. “Hello, Mr. Sato.” You visibly see him stiffen; which confuses you. “I…I’d like to discuss the money issue with you.”

He gulps down his coffee, almost hesitantly turning to face you. “...Ms. Y/N.” The way he greets you feels even more weird. Why is he suddenly acting so scared? Weren’t you just threatening my ass a few days ago? Never mind that. You shake your head, clearing your throat. “I wanted to tell you that I don’t really…have the money right now. I know it’s an inconvenience for you and a burden on my part, but I’m willing to do whatev—”

“No need,” he cuts you off, hand waving in the air.

You stop, head tilting. Did you hear him right? “I-I’m sorry?”

“I said no need. I already got the money.”

Now you’re really confused. Brows twitching as a wave of cautiousness passes over you. Is he tricking you? What the hell do you mean you got the money? “You…what? But, how? I didn’t….”

“Your husband paid it yesterday.”

“What?! I don’t have a husband.”

“Oh,” Mr. Sato tilts his head, looking down at Koji. “well, his father. He paid it yesterday.”

It’s like a bucket of ice cold water is dumped over you. Huffing out in disbelief, confusion, and annoyance. “Wait, wait. He…paid it? All of it…?”

Mr. Sato nods, then shifts on his feet. “And then some, I’ve applied it to next month, so you don’t have to worry about that..”

A knot forms in your stomach. You can’t process it. Why would Satoru do that? The money, the rent, the fact that he paid it all without saying a word. Without asking you first. You’re supposed to be handling this on your own, not relying on him to bail you out. But the reality of it settles in, cold and heavy. He knows you’re struggling–-pretty damn badly too. Your heart races, a strange mix of emotions stirring within you—confusion, anger, humiliation. "I didn’t ask him to do that," you mutter, your hands trembling slightly as you try to steady your thoughts. Is he going to confront you about this too now? Say how horrible of a mother you are that you can’t keep a shitty apartment? Is he building up reasons to take Koji?

Mr. Sato shrugs, then turns away from you once more. "Doesn’t matter. It’s done. He seemed pretty intent on making sure everything was covered for you.”

You don’t know how to respond to that. The idea of Satoru swooping in like some kind of white knight, fixing things without a word, twists something deep inside you. Why? The simple question hangs there, unanswered, heavy in the air between you. You glance down at Koji, who’s still holding your hand, oblivious to the tension building between you and Mr. Sato. “Thanks, I guess,” you say, your voice distant, almost hollow. It feels like the only thing you can say, even if it doesn’t feel like enough.

Mr. Sato offers a quick nod. “No problem.”

As you and Koji walk away, your mind races, the question lingering in the air: What does Satoru want from all this? And more importantly, why the hell didn’t he tell you? It feels strange and almost invasive to have him literally pay your rent for you. Does he think he can just come in and save the day? Does he think I need him that bad? Why didn’t he tell me?

It feels like a violation, in a way. Like he’s come in and taken control of something that was supposed to be your responsibility. It’s hard to swallow. The pride you’ve worked so hard to hold onto, the independence you’ve clung to, feels shattered with just a few actions and no explanation–-and with such little ease. As you walk into your apartment, you feel the weight of his decisions hanging over you like a dark cloud. Why couldn’t he just let you handle things? You’re blatantly reminded of just how different you two are, of how much better he can provide for Koji than you can.

The problem isn’t just about the rent. It’s about him stepping in without a word, without so much as a “Do you need help?” Does he think I can’t do this on my own? You feel a sting in your chest, like a raw nerve exposed, and the overwhelming urge to scream at the world for being so damn complicated. Koji’s chatter fades into the background as you make it to the door, choosing to sit down on the couch, and pulling your knees up to your chest. What now? You’ve never asked for help from Satoru before, and now it feels like he’s swooped in and taken control, expecting gratitude in return. But how do you even thank someone who’s come in, solved your problems without asking, and left you feeling like you were never meant to stand on your own? What’s he trying to prove? You don’t know if you’re angry at him for doing something you couldn’t or angry at yourself for feeling so vulnerable, like a little piece of you just slipped away. The worst part is that you don't know how to feel about it all.

Thankful?

Happy?

Annoyed?

Angered?

Which of those is valid enough for this situation?

The minute you’re on break at your second job, you pull out your phone and call the devil himself.

He picks up a ring later.

“Hel—”

“What are you doing?”

There’s a pause. “Um…in the office?”

“No, you idiot. I mean what the hell do you think you’re trying to prove here?”

“...that I’m a good worker?”

Jesus, could he be even more stupid? “You paid my rent for me?”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, and you can almost hear him thinking, trying to figure out how to spin this. "Yeah, I did," he finally admits, and there's no apology in his voice, just plain confession.

"Why?" The question comes out sharper than you intended, a mixture of frustration and confusion. "Why would you do that without saying anything? Do you think I need your help? Is that it? Just swoop in like a damn knight in shining armor?"

He doesn't immediately respond, and you’re almost certain he’s frowning on the other end. Finally, his voice breaks through the tension. "Listen," he starts, a little too casual for your liking. "I really don’t understand why you’re angry about this, okay? Your landlord came over when you were at work and said you needed four thousand dollars. I just didn’t want you to worry about it, and I didn’t want Koji to see you stress over something like that. It’s not a big deal, it’s handled."

You roll your eyes, the anger simmering beneath the surface. "You don't get it, Satoru. This isn't about whether or not I’m stressing or angered over it. It's about you barging in and making decisions for me, like I can’t handle my own life."

His sigh comes through loud and clear, like he’s just too tired to deal with you right now. "I didn’t make the decision for you, I just—"

"—Paid my rent without asking? You don’t get to play the ‘I’m just helping’ card here! You could’ve at least talked to me first. Why didn’t you tell me? Why hide it from me?"

There’s a shift in his tone, like he’s getting a bit more fed up as the conversation continues. "I didn’t think it was necessary. You’ve been so damn silent about everything. I don’t know if it’s pride or what. But I get it—believe me, I do. But sometimes, pride gets in the way of... I don’t know, survival?"

"Survival?" You nearly choke on the word, incredulous. "Is that what you think this is? Some kind of game to you? You think I can’t survive on my own?"

The silence stretches between you two, thick with unspoken things. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head, and then, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks. "Look, I did what I did because I wanted to," he says quietly, the weight of the words heavier than anything he’s said so far. "But if you’re angry about it, then...I won’t do it again. It wasn’t meant to make you feel like... like you can’t handle things. I just thought, maybe it’d be one less thing for you to worry about."

You’re quiet for a long moment, still processing his words, the mixture of emotions swirling in your chest. "You’ve got a funny way of showing care, Satoru," you mutter, and there's a bitter laugh on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah, I know," he admits, voice tinged with regret. "I don’t always get it right." A small, reluctant part of you softens at the sound of his sincerity, but the rest of you remains hard, unresolved. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your thoughts. "You just—you have to tell me in advance about these things. This is a big deal to me.”

He nods, though you can’t see it. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you feel inferior, I promise.”

You close your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. "Just... don’t do it again."

He’s quiet for a moment, and then—"Alright, alright. I’ll back off, Y/N. But you will tell me next time if you need help, understood?"

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the unexpected, but familiar warmth spread through you at his words. "Understood," you mutter, rolling your eyes again even as you can feel the beginnings of a reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

It’s a mess. But at least he’s trying. At least you are.

You’re about to say your goodbye when he stops you. “Hey, um…so I was actually going to call you too.”

“Oh,” you reply, leaning your back against the wall. “Okay well, did you need something?’

“Yeah, I need to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

He pauses again, mulling over how to exactly give this to you easily. “So…my parents found out. About Koji.”

You don’t say anything. The words hang in the air between you, and you feel a chill run down your spine. Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s joking. But the seriousness in his voice tells you that this is no joke.

His parents found out.

You push yourself off the wall, your hand instinctively curling into a fist at your side. "What do you mean, found out? How? When?"

He lets out a long, heavy sigh. "They’ve had someone watching me for a while now because I haven’t been to the office. Apparently, the guy showed them a picture of me with Koji and you, and they…yeah."

The words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. "Great," you mutter, voice tinged with disbelief. "So now they know. What, are they gonna show up at my door and demand answers too?"

There’s an uncomfortable pause on the other end of the line before Satoru responds, his voice tight. "It’s not like that. They won’t do anything... yet. But they want to meet Koji, see him, and... they want to talk to you. They’ve got a lot of questions."

Your chest tightens. You feel the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Talk to me? "I’m not doing this. I’m not putting my son through that," you snap, your tone colder than you intended. "Why would they even want to meet him? He’s not some... pawn in their game."

"I know," Satoru says quickly, almost like he’s trying to reassure you. "But they’re my parents, and they’ve always been controlling. They think they have a right to know him, to know everything. I’m just telling you because I didn’t want you to be blindsided."

You take a slow, steadying breath, trying to push down the rising anger and panic that’s swirling inside you. This is bad. This is really bad.

"They want to see us?" you ask, your voice quieter now, more composed.

"They do" he answers reluctantly. "But you don’t have to. It’s your choice, okay? You don’t have to see them again if you’re not ready."

You close your eyes, your mind racing through the possibilities. You didn’t want this—didn’t want your life tangled up in his family’s politics and power games. But now, it feels like there’s no escaping it. "I’ll think about it," you say, voice soft but firm.

"Take your time," he replies, his tone gentler now. "Just know that... I’ll be there, no matter what you decide."

A part of you wants to believe him, wants to trust that he’s not just playing at being the hero. But another part of you is cautious, knowing the situation is far from simple." Okay," you finally say, the word heavy on your lips. "When did they wanna see us?"

“Sunday. At seven, my place.”

“Fuck,” you heavily breathe out, using your hand to sift through your hair. “That’s…that’s really soon, Satoru.”

“I know, I’m sorry. They just told me all this today.”

You bite your lip, conflicted. You know it is an inevitable thing to see his parents again. But it’s been so long and times have most definitely changed. You’re not sure if you’re exactly ready for that. But would you only be prolonging this?

“Just let me know by tomorrow—preferably,” Satoru adds.

“...okay. Yeah.”

“Okay.”

There’s an awkward gap between you two. Not sure if you should keep this conversation going. It almost feels like your first time calling each other. The silence stretches between you both, thick and uncomfortable. You can almost hear the uncertainty in his breath on the other end of the line, as though he’s unsure what to say next, or perhaps he's waiting for you to take the lead. You want to say something, anything, but the words feel stuck in your throat. There’s so much you could say, but none of it feels right. You’re not sure what he expects from you, or what you expect from him. Finally, you break the silence, your voice quieter than usual. “I’ll think about it. But...this isn’t just something I can decide on a whim.”

“I know,” Satoru responds, his tone more serious now. “I’m not rushing you. I just... I just want to make sure you’re okay with everything.”

You exhale sharply, not sure if that reassures you or not. The weight of the situation feels heavier now, but there’s still a part of you that wants to believe he’s being genuine. That he’s trying to do the right thing, even though you know deep down that the stakes are much higher than just making it through a conversation with his parents. “Right,” you reply, your tone quieter, more resigned. “I’ll... I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“Take care,” he says, the words soft but weighted with meaning.

"Yeah. You too," you mutter before ending the call, the finality of it leaving a lingering tension in the air.

As you slide your phone back into your pocket, you let out a long breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. You're not sure what to expect anymore, not from Satoru, not from his family, and certainly not from yourself. But one thing is certain: this is only the beginning, and you wonder if you’re ready for what comes next. All you know is that you have to protect Koji at all costs. And now, it seems, you have to face the consequences of Satoru’s family knowing the truth.

The next day is bright and sunny, contrasting with the chill of the wind that threatens to break your skin out in goosebumps if it weren’t for your thick layers. Snowfall is supposed to begin soon, Koji told you after learning it in school. He’s excited, which makes you happy to see. He’s always loved snow, you’d make snowmen, throw snowballs, and make snow angels. You have many pictures stored in your phone of him with the white mess of cushion around him, or him holding a snowflake, anything. You take a lot of pictures of your son, mundane or not. Memories you’ll forever cherish so you can look back on them when he’s older.

Walking through town with your little boy for a little day out. The money you were saving up for the rent is now being put to use for some sweet treats and little action figures. The sound of Koji’s laughter fills the crisp air as he hops excitedly from one foot to the other, clutching the small action figures of Spiderman and Ironman in his hands, his cheeks flushed from the cold. His excitement is contagious, and for a moment, the worries of yesterday feel distant, pushed away by the simple joy of spending time with him.

You pass by a few familiar shops, your eyes catching on window displays that seem to taunt you with their prices. You shake your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as Koji pulls you towards a small toy store. The lights in the window sparkle with the holiday season, and for a brief moment, it feels like you could stay in this little bubble, far removed from everything else—Satoru, his parents, and the looming uncertainty about what comes next. But even as Koji chatters away beside you, excitedly telling you about the toys he's picked out, the weight of your situation still lingers in the back of your mind. You glance down at your son, trying to focus on the here and now. You’re doing this for him. He deserves moments like these—moments where life feels simple, filled with nothing but happiness and warmth.

“Mom, look!” Koji pulls your attention, his face beaming as he holds up a small snow globe he found in the shop window. The glittering snowflakes inside the glass swirl around, and you can see the way his eyes light up. “Can we get it?”

You smile, reaching down to gently ruffle his hair. “Of course, we can.” As you walk into the store, the bell above the door jingles, and for a second, it feels like you’re stepping into another world. It’s warm, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla filling the air, and it’s so different from the cold outside. For a brief moment, everything feels manageable. Just you and Koji, making memories.

But then, the thought of the phone call from Satoru yesterday creeps back into your mind. You promised you’d think about it, but now, with Koji so happy beside you, you wonder: Can you really keep up this facade? Can you keep pretending like everything is okay when you're not sure where any of this is headed? You shake your head, trying to push those thoughts aside for the time being. Right now, there’s only Koji, only the two of you enjoying a quiet moment of peace in a world that feels anything but peaceful.

“Let’s get that snow globe,” you say softly, even though you know it’s a small treat in the grand scheme of things. But maybe that’s all you can give him for now. Small moments of happiness.

After your purchases, you two make your way to a stand selling hot chocolate. A delicacy that your boy absolutely loves. As you’re paying for the small drink, opting to share with Koji, a familiar voice catches your ears. You turn to look in the direction of the loud voice.

“Thank you all for coming out today, I know it’s a little chilly. But we’re having many fun activities planned, with prizes. Who’s excited?”

The small crowd whoops in agreeance.

With interest, you’re guiding Koji over to the voice, tilting your neck up. You see Suguru standing with a microphone in hand, smiling kindly. The tip of his nose is tinted red, adorning a shirt that says, "Building futures, one child at a time." You recognize it as the slogan on his business card that he gave you.

It’s been a while since you last spoke to him or saw him, the last thing you remembered was him finding out your personal information while you were broken up with Satoru all these years. A frown pulls at your lips, but it’s hard to keep it up when young children rush up to him. Shouting “Mr. Geto!”

You’ve always known Suguru was very good with children, but seeing him now in his element feels wholesome. Cute, you think.

“Mama, that’s your friend. Do we go say hi?” Koji asks, sipping his drink.

For a second, you hesitate. Fearing it’ll be awkward, but you decide it wouldn’t hurt. So, with a nod, you two are walking through the crowd and to Suguru.

As you make your way through the crowd, you notice Suguru’s easy interaction with the kids. They surround him, tugging at his sleeves and laughing as he kneels to their height, his smile never faltering. The sight of him in his element makes you feel a strange mixture of warmth and hesitation. He’s clearly a natural with kids, and it’s hard not to admire how comfortable he seems, especially after all the tension that has hung between the two of you.

When you finally reach him, Suguru notices. His eyes widen slightly before he straightens up. A soft smile forms on his face, and he straightens his shirt with a little chuckle. "Well, look who decided to show up." he says, his tone light and friendly, almost as if there’s no time at all between now and the last time you spoke. “Hi, Koji,” he greets, his voice warm as he crouches down to your son’s level, who’s holding a drink in both hands and looking up at Suguru with wide eyes.

"Hi," Koji replies enthusiastically, his eyes bright. “What are you doing here today?”

Suguru laughs, his gaze flicking back to you for a brief moment before he answers. “I try to help however I can. It’s all about giving back to the community, especially for kids like you, Koji. You’re the future.” He winks at your son, causing him to giggle and squirm a little from the attention.

You can’t help but smile at the interaction, but the knot in your stomach tightens. It’s hard to shake off the awkwardness of your previous encounters with Suguru. You’re not sure what to say now, especially since Koji is so at ease with him. Suguru shifts his attention to you, his expression gentle but knowing. "How’ve you been? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?" His tone isn’t pressing, just an easy question, though you sense the unspoken weight behind it.

You nod, still caught in the familiarity of his presence, but unsure of how much to reveal. "Yeah, it’s been a while." You pause, taking a breath before adding, “So, what’s all this?”

“Fundraiser, we hold one every month,” Suguru explains with a warm smile, his voice carrying an easy confidence. “We do one every month. All the proceeds go to local programs for kids. Things like scholarships, school supplies, and community events. It's a way to give back, especially to kids who might not have access to these kinds of opportunities otherwise."

You take in his words, surprised by how much he’s dedicated to this cause. "I didn't realize you were this involved," you admit, watching as more children approach Suguru, clearly looking up to him.

“Yeah," Suguru chuckles, glancing at the growing crowd. "I really believe in it. This is what I want to do with my life now, and it’s been a rewarding journey. Kids are the future, you know? It's just about giving them the right tools to grow."

You can’t help but be impressed. Suguru always had ambition, but hearing him speak so passionately about his work hits differently now. There’s a quiet weight to his words, as if he’s found his purpose. “You've come a long way,” you say, not able to hide the slight smile tugging at your lips. "I'm glad to see you're doing something meaningful."

Suguru waves it off, his smile a little sheepish. "It’s really the kids who make it fun. I’m just happy I can help make something like this happen." There’s a brief pause between you two, the familiar tension that used to hang in the air now replaced by a quieter, unspoken understanding.

Suguru looks at you. “But, thank you, Y/N. It feels good. And it’s nice to see someone who remembers where I started." The familiarity of the moment hangs in the air between you, the unspoken history still lingering. You remember the time when things were simpler, before everything became complicated and messy. Suguru was always someone you could rely on, someone who was easy to talk to.

Koji pulls on your sleeve, his voice bright. "Mom, can I play the game over there?" You glance over at the game booth he’s pointing to, noticing it’s one of those dart-throwing games. You’re about to nod, but Suguru cuts in.

"Let me give you both some tickets," he says, already reaching into his pocket. "For the games. My treat." You’re about to protest, but Suguru’s gaze stops you. “Really, it’s no problem. It’s the least I can do after everything.”

You swallow the retort on your tongue, a mix of gratitude and reluctance bubbling inside you. “Alright, thanks,” you say quietly. He hands you the tickets with a smile, his demeanor still easygoing.

As you two are walking, watching Koji play games, he decides now’s the time to actually talk. “Y/N, I’m sorry about—”

“You don’t need to apologize again,” you cut him off, putting your hands in your coat pockets. “I heard you, so don’t worry.”

He purses his lips. “Are you sure? I mean, I understand if you’re still put off, I would be too.”

You watch Koji and go silent for a moment. His words lingering in your mind before you switch the subject. “Did Satoru tell you I spoke with him?”

“Oh, yeah,” he scratches at his head. “How was it? I heard it from his perspective, but what about yours?”

“Could’ve been better, could’ve been worse.” Suguru nods, not wanting to pry anymore. Your vague answers are enough. “His parents found out too.”

“What?” he asks in bewilderment. “T-They did? How? What did they say?”

“Satoru said they sent someone to watch him because he was missing from work for a while. They weren’t very happy, and they want to see Koji and me tomorrow.”

“Shit,” Suguru shakes his head. “Are you going to?”

“I feel like I have no choice but to. It’s not like I can avoid this forever.”

“You always have a choice, Y/N.”

You glance at him, his words catching you off guard. “Do I, though? They’re his family, Suguru. And like it or not, Koji deserves to know where he comes from.”

“I get that,” he says, crossing his arms, his expression thoughtful. “But just because they’re family doesn’t mean they automatically get to dictate everything. You have a say in this too. Don’t let them push you around.”

You nod, appreciating his words but still feeling the overwhelming pressure of the situation. “I’ll try. I just...I don’t want to make things harder for Koji.”

Suguru places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You won’t. You’re his mom. As long as you’re looking out for him, you’re doing what’s right.”

His reassurance is a small comfort in the sea of uncertainty you’re swimming in. You give him a faint smile, grateful for his support. “Thanks, Suguru.”

“Anytime,” he replies, his voice soft but genuine. “And if you need backup, you know where to find me.”

You laugh lightly, the tension in your chest easing for just a moment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Walking home after that day out, putting Koji to take a nap, cleaning up a bit, you send Satoru a text.

“We’ll come. Send me your address.”

You arrive to Satoru’s penthouse with Koji in tow thirty minutes early. Koji was wowing the entire train ride here, even now as he looks up at the large and tall building before him, his eyes are wide with child-like amusement. A part of you feels bad that he’s getting this excited over buildings and nice lights, but hey, you would be too if all you were accustomed to was the other side of town.

The two of you step out of the cab, Koji’s small hand in yours. It practically glows under the evening sky, reflecting the city lights like something out of a movie. Koji’s awe is palpable, his mouth slightly open as he marvels at the sheer size of the structure. “Mama,” he tugs on your hand, his eyes not leaving the building. “Do people actually live in places like this? Like...all the time?”

You chuckle softly, though there’s a slight pang in your chest. “Yeah, Koji. Some people do.”

“It’s so cool,” he breathes, craning his neck as far as it can go. “Do they have their own rooms? And toys? And candy?”

“Probably,” you say with a light laugh, gently guiding him toward the entrance. “But don’t get too excited, okay? We’re just here to visit.”

As you step inside, the pristine marble floors and sleek, modern design hit you instantly. The lobby is massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows and expensive-looking furniture scattered about. Even the air feels different—cleaner, cooler, like it’s filtered or something. A well-dressed doorman greets you with a polite nod, and you awkwardly return it, not quite sure how to act in a place this fancy. Koji, however, is too busy looking around, his eyes darting from the chandelier to the grand piano in the corner. “Mama, look! That’s a real piano! Like the one on TV!”

“Yeah, I see it,” you murmur, trying to stay focused. The feeling of being out of place creeps up on you, but you push it aside. This isn’t about you—it’s about Koji. When you reach the elevator, you press the button for the top floor, and the doors slide open with a soft chime. Stepping inside, Koji bounces on his heels, still brimming with excitement. “Do you think it’s like the movies where the elevator talks?” he asks, his voice full of wonder.

You smile, ruffling his hair. “We’ll see, bud.” The elevator glides upward so smoothly that you barely feel it moving. Koji’s little gasp of excitement when the numbers light up makes you chuckle again, though your stomach tightens as you near the top. You realize Satoru’s space is on the highest floor. Thirty seconds later, the doors open to reveal a sleek, private hallway with only one door at the end. “This is it, Koji,” you say, taking a deep breath as you step out of the elevator. “Are you ready?”

Koji nods enthusiastically, gripping your hand tighter. “Ready!”

You walk toward the door, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. It feels heavier with every step, but you keep moving forward. Reaching the door, you hesitate for a moment, then press the doorbell. A moment later, the door swings open to reveal Satoru, looking as casual as ever—with a hint of nervousness in a loose sweater and jeans. His bright blue eyes light up when he sees Koji. “Hey, you two made it.” he says, stepping aside to let you in. “Come on in. Koji, welcome to my place.”

Koji’s jaw drops as he takes in the massive living room with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. “This is your house?!”

Satoru grins, picking him up. “Sure is, kiddo. What do you think?”

Koji looks up at you with wide eyes. “Mama, this is way cooler than the buildings outside!”

You laugh nervously, squeezing Koji’s hand. “Yeah, it’s...something.”

Satoru walks around his place, watching the two of you with a small smile. “Make yourselves comfortable. And hey, I promise this’ll go smoother than you think.”

“You’re saying that now,” you mutter with a grimace.

“C’mon, just trust me. I’m here.”

The phrase causes you to clear your throat awkwardly, a sudden memory hitting you—one you push down quickly. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Want some water? Juice?”

“No juice for him, he had a candy on the way here.”

“But Mamaaaaaa,” Koji whines, dragging out his words. “Please, I want some of Papa’s juice.”

“I have all kinds of juice, little man. Red juice, pink juice, green juice.”

“Green?!”

“Mhm.”

“I wan—”

“Satoru.” You say, firmness in your voice. Arms crossing. “I said no juice.”

Satoru’s smile falters as he registers your intonation, his eyes flicking to yours like he’s trying to decipher something. The room feels heavier suddenly, like the air between you is crackling with something unspoken. “Alright,” he says softly, straightening up. “No juice. Got it.” The tone of his response catches you off guard, almost making you feel like you’d scolded him instead of your son. You shift uncomfortably, glancing at Koji, who’s now frowning. Satoru sets him down, to which he gets easily distracted by the shiny skyscrapers outside, rushing over to the large floor to ceiling windows.

Satoru steps back, running a hand through his hair. “I was just trying to—” He stops himself, shaking his head with a dry laugh. “Never mind.”

You exhale, feeling a pang of guilt but unsure why. “It’s not... Look, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” he cuts in, his tone lighter but his eyes saying something else. “You’re right. Mama’s rules. I’ll stick to them.”

There’s an awkward pause, and you find yourself staring at him, searching his face for... what, exactly? He catches you looking, and for a brief, jarring moment, you’re back in a place you swore you’d moved on from—a place where his charm felt like safety and his presence could undo you. Your stomach is already feeling warm. You snap out of it quickly, clearing your throat. “Thanks. For understanding.”

Satoru tilts his head slightly, his gaze lingering. “Always.”

It feels like a strange promise, one that hangs in the air too long before Koji interrupts, shouting, “Mama! Look, it’s snowing!”

The tension breaks, and you turn to the window, grateful for the distraction. “Wow, it is,” you say, forcing a smile.

Behind you, Satoru’s voice is quiet but pointed. “Snow’s always a fresh start, right?”

You don’t respond, unsure if he’s talking about the weather—or the two of you. Focusing on the snowfall, Satoru takes this moment to side-glance at you. He almost curses himself for wanting to comment on how pretty you look. Not now. But for some reason, his hand is inching up as it it’s about to move a strand of hair out your eye, until you look at him. “Can I use your bathroom?”

He coughs out, quickly bringing his hand to his nose and wiping at it. Real smooth, Satoru. “Yeah, sure. Down this hall to your right.”

“Thank you.”

“Mhm,” he can’t resist watching you leave, eyes moving down to your ass. His stare lingers even when you’re out of sight. The sound of Koji’s voice bringing him back down to Earth.

“Why do you stare at Mama like that?”

“What? I’m not staring.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Why are you lying, Papa?”

“Kid…”

“But it’s normal, right? You and Mama are married.”

God, his innocence is too sweet for Satoru. How exactly can his explain your relationship to the young boy? Not now at least and especially not without you. Hopefully when his son learns the truth one day, he won’t grow to somehow resent him. Or you. Satoru’s throat tightens at Koji’s words. The boy's wide, trusting eyes make the situation ten times harder than it already is. He rubs the back of his neck, trying to think of a response that won’t shatter Koji’s innocence or dig himself into a deeper hole. “Well, uh…” he starts, stalling. “Sometimes grown-ups have… complicated relationships.”

Koji tilts his head, frowning in confusion. “What’s complicated mean?”

Satoru lets out a nervous laugh, ruffling Koji’s hair. “It means… not everything is simple, kiddo. Like math problems that don’t make sense at first.”

Koji wrinkles his nose. “I don’t like math.”

“Exactly,” Satoru says with a relieved grin. “Neither do I. Let’s stick to the fun stuff, okay?”

“Okay, they’re here.”

You take in a deep breath, holding Koji closer to your chest as he sits on your lap. Satoru’s dining room chairs feel too stiff for a situation like this. He’s standing—pacing, and checking his phone constantly after his mother just texted him they were coming up. The tension in the air is suffocating. You grip Koji just a little tighter, your fingers absentmindedly brushing over his soft hair as a way to ground yourself. The stiffness of the chair beneath you feels like punishment, but maybe it’s just nerves crawling into every corner of your body.

Across the room, Satoru paces like a man trying to walk off a bad decision. His long legs carry him back and forth in front of the large windows, the city lights behind him casting an almost surreal glow. He checks his phone again, the screen lighting up briefly before he shoves it into his pocket with a frustrated sigh. You bite your lip, trying not to snap. “You pacing like that isn’t helping.”

He stops mid-step, glancing at you with a mixture of guilt and irritation. “You think I don’t know that? They texted ‘coming up’ five minutes ago. How long does it take to ride an elevator?”

You arch a brow. “You live on the thirty-fourth floor.”

He huffs, dragging a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t change the fact that this feels like the longest elevator ride in history.”

Koji, oblivious to the storm brewing between the adults, tilts his head up at you. “Mama, why are you squishing me?”

“Oh,” you blink, loosening your grip immediately. “Sorry, baby.”

Koji giggles, wiggling to get more comfortable. “It’s okay. Papa’s the one acting funny.”

You glance at Satoru, who’s resumed pacing, his jaw tight. “Yeah,” you mutter, half to yourself. “He’s definitely acting funny.” Before either of you can say more, there’s a sharp knock at the door. It’s like the room collectively holds its breath. Koji perks up curiously, his innocent smile the only light in this tense moment.

Satoru freezes, staring at the door as if it might explode. “Okay,” he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. “Here we go.”

He crosses the room in a few long strides, his hand hovering over the doorknob for a split second before he pulls it open. And there they are. His parents, Yamato and Akane Gojo, standing like an imposing force just outside the threshold. Yamato is tall and sharp-eyed, his tailored suit as immaculate as his demeanor. Akane, with her perfectly styled hair and the kind of elegance that demands attention, steps in with an unreadable expression. For a moment, the room feels even smaller. Their eyes sweep over you and Koji, pausing on the boy who’s now hiding his face in your shoulder.

“Hello,” Akane says, her voice smooth but laced with something unplaceable. “I believe we have a lot to discuss.”

You gulp and nod as they come closer, Satoru closing the door and quickly making his way to sit beside you. “Nice to see you two again.” The phrase feels hollow and fake on your tongue, but what exactly should you say to them?

Yamato hums as he and his wife sit across from you and Satoru. Their eyes instantly landing on Koji who regards them with a nervous, child-like expression. “This is the boy.”

“Yes,” Satoru answers. “Koji.”

Yamato’s gaze lingers on Koji, sharp and calculating, as though he’s analyzing every detail of the child. Koji squirms slightly under the weight of the attention, pressing closer to you. You instinctively wrap an arm around him, protective. Akane's expression softens just a touch, but it’s subtle—barely enough to ease the tension in the room. “He looks like you, Satoru,” she comments, her voice light but with an underlying edge.

Satoru shifts beside you, his posture stiff. “Yeah, well… genetics and all.”

You glance at him, suppressing an eyeroll. Now’s not the time for his half-hearted attempts at humor. Yamato finally speaks, his voice low and measured. “And how long has this been… a secret?”

The question feels like a slap, even though you were expecting it. You glance down at Koji, unsure of how much to say in front of him. Satoru clears his throat, leaning forward slightly. “Look, I didn’t find out about Koji until recently,” he admits, his tone surprisingly steady. “And as soon as I did, I took responsibility. That’s why we’re here now.”

Yamato’s eyes flick to you, cold and questioning. “And you? Why keep this from him?”

You feel your heart drop, but you refuse to let their judgment pin you down. “I had my reasons,” you say, your voice firm despite the way your palms are sweating. “It wasn’t an easy decision, but I did what I thought was best for my son.”

“And best for Satoru?” Akane interjects, her tone calm but pointed.

You hesitate, unsure how to answer without sounding defensive. Before you can respond, Satoru leans back, his arms crossed. “Enough,” he says, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “This isn’t about blame. It’s about Koji. He’s here now, and I want him to be part of my life. That’s all that matters.”

Yamato studies him for a long moment, then shifts her gaze back to Koji. “What about the boy? Does he even know who we are?”

Koji glances up at you, his small fingers clutching your sleeve. “Mama?” he whispers.

You force a smile, brushing a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, baby. These are… your grandparents.”

Koji’s eyes widen, curiosity replacing some of his nervousness. “Grandparents? Like in the stories?”

Satoru can’t help but chuckle softly, breaking some of the tension. “Yeah, kid. Like in the stories.”

For a moment, the room feels lighter, but Yamato’s expression doesn’t waver. “Then we’ll need to decide what role we play in his story,” he says firmly, his eyes narrowing. Your stomach twists, and Satoru’s jaw tightens. This conversation is far from over.

Satoru leans forward, his hands clasped on the table, tension rolling off him. “You don’t get to ‘decide’ anything, Dad. Koji is my son, and I’ll handle how he fits into this family.”

Yamato’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze hardening. “You think this is just about you, Satoru? This affects all of us—the Gojo name, our reputation. Your actions have consequences, and it’s my job to ensure they don’t spiral out of control.”

You bristle at his tone, your arm tightening around Koji. “Koji is not some ‘consequence,’ Mr. Gojo. He’s a child. Your grandson. Maybe you should start there instead of worrying about appearances.”

Akane's gaze flickers between you and her husband, her expression unreadable. “Yamato,” she says softly, placing a hand on his arm. “Let’s not lose sight of what’s important here.” Yamato exhales sharply, but he doesn’t respond, his eyes still locked on Satoru.

“Look,” Satoru says, his voice lowering. “I get it. This isn’t ideal for you. But Koji is here, and I’m not going to let him feel like he’s some kind of mistake. He’s part of this family whether you like it or not.”

There’s a pause, heavy and suffocating, before Akane finally speaks. “He’s very handsome,” she says, her tone softer now. “I see the resemblance to you, Satoru. But I also see… her.” She glances at you, and for the first time, her expression isn’t cold. However, that doesn’t mean there’s complete acceptance there. She looks down at her lap with a sigh. “If only it was someone of higher class.”

You and Satoru equally clench your jaw, eyes narrowing.

Koji looks up at you, then at Satoru. “Papa, what’s a ‘rep-…repu-shun’?”

Satoru chuckles despite himself. “It’s something adults worry about too much, buddy. Don’t worry about it.”

Yamato’s lips twitch as if he’s holding back a retort, but Akane cuts in before he can speak. “Koji,” she says gently, leaning slightly forward. “Do you like sweets?”

Koji nods, his nervousness giving way to excitement. “Yes! I like cookies and cake and green juice!”

Kaede smiles faintly. “Maybe next time you visit, I can make some cookies for you. Would you like that?”

Koji’s face lights up, and he nods enthusiastically. “Yes, please!”

You’re caught off guard by the gesture, but you stay silent, observing the interaction. First she bashes your status and now she’s trying to be the sweet grandma. Satoru shifts beside you, his hand brushing against yours briefly. It’s so subtle you almost miss it, but the warmth lingers, grounding you. You could’ve sworn he lets it linger there purposely.

Yamato clears his throat, “You understand your role as heir, yes, Satoru? Having children of your own to pass the legacy down to,” he says, his tone clipped.

You purse your lips. “I don’t want my son being involved in something he doesn’t have to.”

“This isn’t a choice,” Akane responds. “Although this situation is less than savory, and although we woul’ve much preferred a…different candiate. This is the reality, so your father and I have made arranagemnts.”

“You’re not doing anything without telling Y/N or I first. This is our son.” Satoru firmly says.

Yamato cuts in. “Listen, Satoru. This is just how it is. When he grows older, it’s up to you to teach him and pass things down. As of now, no one will know. Not the public, the company, investors, nobody. Until we, ourselves, have a better hold on things, this will stay under wraps.”

Your stomach twists as the weight of their words sinks in. Their calculated demeanor, their cold insistence—it’s everything you despised about this family’s way of thinking. Koji isn’t just some pawn in their grand scheme; he’s your child. “Under wraps?” you snap, unable to hold back. “What does that even mean? You expect us to keep Koji’s existence a secret like he’s some kind of dirty little secret? That’s not what I want for my son, I want him to have a normal and innocent childhood.”

Akane's expression barely falters. “This is for his protection, as well as the family’s reputation. The world can be… cruel, especially when it comes to matters like this. It’s better to control the narrative than let it control us.”

Satoru scoffs, crossing his arms. “Control the narrative? He’s five, Mom. He doesn’t need a narrative. He needs parents who care about him, not a PR strategy.”

Yamato pinches the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t up for debate, Satoru. You’re the heir. Koji is your responsibility, but he’s also ours. You don’t understand what’s at stake here.”

“I understand just fine,” Satoru fires back, his voice rising. “You want to shove him into your world of deals and power plays without even thinking about what’s best for him. I’m not letting that happen.” You glance at Satoru, momentarily caught off guard by his unwavering stance. It’s rare to see him so serious, so resolute. For a moment, it feels like you’re on the same page, like you’re fighting together.

Yamato sighs, his patience clearly thinning. “We’re not trying to take him away from you. But this family operates a certain way, and if you’re unwilling to cooperate—”

“I’m unwilling,” you cut in sharply, surprising even yourself. “Koji isn’t going to grow up like this. He’s not going to be molded into some heir, forced to carry on legacies he didn’t ask for. He’s going to be a kid, my kid, and that’s all. If the time comes when he’s old enough to make that decision, then so be it. But right now…we are making it.” Satoru looks at you, a look of almost tender reliance in his face. He can’t help but scooch closer to you in his chair, the back of his knuckles grazing your thigh as he focuses back on his parents. You don’t move, for some reason.

Akane narrows her eyes, her perfectly composed exterior cracking ever so slightly. “You may not understand the gravity of this situation, Y/N, but you’ll come to see it’s for the best. We’re not here to argue with you. We’re here to ensure the future.”

“And I’m here to ensure my son’s happiness,” you bite back, standing as your chair scrapes loudly against the floor. “If you can’t respect that, then maybe we’re done here.” The room falls into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Koji, oblivious to the weight of the conversation, hums softly to himself, playing with the edge of his shirt.

Satoru finally speaks, his voice quieter but no less firm. “You don’t make arrangements for Koji without consulting us. This isn’t the company. You don’t get to call the shots here.”

Yamato frowns, standing up as well. Insticvively, Satoru follows, getting in front of you and Koji slightly in a protective stance. Finally, he crosses his arms, looking at the little family before him. Two of them looking exactly the same, for a second, Yamato feels like he’s talking to the past and future version of his son. In a way, he is. “...fine. You two are his parents, then fine. But it is my duty to ensure nothing wrong happens. My point still stands, it’s not wise to reveal Koji to the public eye yet,” he meets your eyes again. “You said you want him to have a normal childhood. Well, you should’ve thought about that before deciding to keep him. If you know what’s best, you’d agree with me.”

Without another word, Akane follows her husband to the door, and the two leave; the door slamming after them. The sound of the door slamming reverberates through the room, leaving an uneasy silence in its wake. Satoru uncrosses his arms, running a hand through his hair as he exhales sharply. You glance at Koji, who’s watching the door with a curious expression, seemingly oblivious to the tension that just passed.

“That man,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Who does he think he is, saying that?”

Satoru turns to you, his jaw tight but his voice calm. “That’s just how he is. Always has to have the last word, even if it’s total bullshit.”

You shift Koji on your hip, brushing his hair back softly as your mind replays Yamato’s parting words. You should’ve thought about that before deciding to keep him. The sting of it makes your chest tighten, but you force yourself to push it aside. “Are you okay?” Satoru asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you lie, though your voice falters slightly. “I’m just…angry. I know we’re not exactly best friends, but he has no right to talk about my decisions like that.”

Satoru watches you for a moment before sighing. “You’re right. He doesn’t. And you know what? Screw him. You’ve done everything for Koji. He doesn’t get to sit there and judge you from his high horse.”

The unexpected sincerity in his words takes you off guard, and for a moment, you can’t meet his eyes. “Thanks,” you murmur, focusing instead on Koji, who’s now fiddling with a string on his shirt.

Koji suddenly pipes up, breaking the tension. “Are they gone?”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Satoru says, taking him from your arms. “They’re gone. You don’t have to worry about them.”

“Good,” Koji says with a pout. “They were scary.”

You chuckle softly. “They’re just loud, that’s all. You don’t have to be scared of them.”

Satoru leans back in his chair, his gaze flicking to you. “So, what now?”

“What now?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. About them, about Koji, about…everything.” The question hangs in the air, heavy and loaded, but for once, it doesn’t feel like it’s just your burden to bear. You meet Satoru’s eyes, and for the first time in years, it feels like you’re standing on the same side of the battlefield. “I guess we figure it out,” you say softly. “Together.”

Satoru nods, a small, almost hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “Together, huh? I like the sound of that.”

It’s not a solution, not yet. But it’s a start. You can see a flicker in Satoru’s expression before he walks with Koji over to the living room. It’s one of hesitance, you understand. He doesn’t entirely forgive you, let alone trust you. But he’s trying, for Koji. This mess happened because you kept your mouth shut, so maybe it’s time you start trying too. You and Satoru are in each other’s lives now, so is there a rush to mend things between you two?

The annual board dinner is just as horrible as Satoru expected. Lavish decorations, stiff small talk, and the overbearing weight of expectations pressed down on him like the overly starched collar of his tailored suit. He’d tried to duck out of it, but his father’s suggestion—which was really an order—left no room for argument. “Smile, Satoru,” Yamato had muttered through gritted teeth when they entered the grand hall. “You’re representing this family.”

So here he was, nursing a glass of expensive champagne that tasted like regret and counting the minutes until he could leave. He glanced around, catching sight of familiar faces mingling and laughing, some of them stealing glances his way with the kind of superficial interest he loathed. “God, this is insufferable,” he muttered under his breath.

Having to charm old men into doing business with his father, flirt here and there with the older, taken women. Smile, smile, smile. For presentation sake.

“Oh, look who it is.”

He groans, looking to the side and being met with the hard and chiseled face of Sukuna. A long term enemy of Satoru’s. Though he keeps it cordial in front of everyone else, he can’t help but engaged in the quiet back and forth. “My number one fan.” Satoru remarks simply, head tilting in a patronzing way.

Sukuna smirked, his sharp features twisting into something smug and self-assured. “Always the comedian, Gojo. I’m surprised you even remember how to crack a joke with how far your head is stuck up your family’s expectations.”

Satoru’s jaw clenched, but his grin didn’t waver. “And here I thought you showed up just to kiss my ass. Flattered, really.”

Their exchange was quiet enough to blend in with the hum of chatter around them, but the tension was palpable. Sukuna, with his sharp suit and predatory air, looked like he belonged here, but his presence was always unsettling. Pink hair that pokes up in a way that just barely reminds him of a certain someone. “I hear the old man’s got you busy charming fossils and bored housewives. Must be exhausting, all that fake smiling. Oh, wait, you’re used to that.”

Satoru’s laugh was light, but his eyes glinted with irritation. “What can I say? Some of us don’t need to rely on intimidation tactics to close deals. Or...whatever it is you call your little power plays.”

Sukuna stepped closer, the faintest hint of challenge in his stance. “Careful, Gojo. You might hurt my feelings.”

Satoru didn’t back down, his posture just as relaxed, his smile just as infuriatingly calm. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, someone’s got to keep you entertained, right?”

Sukuna chuckled darkly, taking a sip from his glass. “You’re lucky this is a formal event. If we were anywhere else—”

“You’d what?” Satoru cut him off, his voice dropping an octave. “Throw another tantrum and lose? You’ve got quite the track record there, Sukuna.”

The older man’s jaw twitched, but he only gave a low, mirthless laugh. “Enjoy your little victories while you can, Gojo. You won’t always have Daddy to clean up after you.”

“No, that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” Satoru grins, patting the other man’s shoulder as everyone begins making their way to the tables as the speaker is about to begin.

Satoru finds his spot next to his parents, arms crossed and one long leg over the other. His dark suit ruffles as circles his shoulders up and down in a fit on annoyance for the tight material.

The speaker, an older man with graying hair and a polished suit, steps up to the podium, his presence commanding immediate attention. The room quiets as he clears his throat, adjusting the microphone with practiced ease. “Good evening, everyone,” he begins, his voice rich and steady. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed the pre-dinner mingling, and I trust we’re all ready to get down to the business at hand. I won’t keep you long, but I must take a moment to reflect on the state of our industry, where we stand, and most importantly, where we’re going.” He pauses for effect, letting his gaze sweep over the gathered crowd. The eyes of the room are trained on him, but Satoru’s attention is divided, flicking between the speaker and the people seated around the table.

“Now, as we all know, times are changing. The landscape of business, both locally and globally, is evolving at a pace none of us could have predicted just a few short years ago. Innovation is at the forefront, and it is only through strategic alliances and forward-thinking leadership that we can continue to rise above the challenges that face us.” The speaker’s voice carries on with the rhythm of a man used to holding the room’s attention. “This is a pivotal moment, not only for our companies but for the future of the industry itself. It is with great anticipation that we look toward new ventures, new opportunities, and a commitment to excellence that can only be achieved through collaboration.”

A murmur ripples through the room as people nod in agreement, sipping their drinks, seemingly in sync with the speaker’s words.

“We have much to look forward to—be it through acquisitions, technological advancement, or our ongoing partnerships. The work ahead is exciting, but it requires unity, dedication, and a shared vision for what we can accomplish together. As we continue to push the boundaries, we must remember that this is more than just business; this is about legacy.” The speaker’s eyes flick over the audience, and for a split second, he meets Satoru’s gaze, offering a nod of acknowledgment.

“Tonight, we celebrate not only our past accomplishments but the bright future ahead. Let’s raise our glasses to the partnerships that have gotten us this far, and to the many more we will form in the years to come.”

A polite round of applause erupts, and the speaker steps back from the podium, signaling the end of his speech. The chatter begins again, and Satoru leans slightly forward with a soft smirk. “Business as usual,” he says under his breath, his tone light but with an edge of something more.

Satoru follows as everyone raises their glasses for a toast, clinking sounding throughout the large hall. Until, there’s small murmuring. It doesn’t faze Satoru as he sips, but then there’s gasps and whispers that sound like confusion mixed with shock.

Glancing around, there’s folks looking at their phones, talking to one another in a quiet voice, and then…looking directly at Satoru and his parents. His brows furrow. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” His father responds, too busy drinking his glass, even drinking his wife’s.

“This.” Satoru says with finality, jutting his chin up. His father and mother finally pay attention. Noticing the extra amount of attention of them tonight. Satoru spots Sukuna sitting at his table, eyes narrowing as one of his colleagues show him his phone. And then, Sukuna looks up, meeting Satoru’s eyes. Suddenly, everything feels wrong. He can make out the malicious smirk on the douchebag’s face, the laugh he doesn’t even try to hide.

What the fuck?

The Gojos continue glancing around with confusion, Satoru with growing annoyance. Until finally, Nanami briskly walks up to his father. “Mr. Gojo,” he clears his throat. The three turn to the man, Satoru can see a foreign trace of nervousness in Nanami’s demeanor. That’s not like him at all.

Nanami can barely seem to articulate the correct sentence before turning his phone towards the Gojos.

And their blood runs cold, Satoru’s world momenatrily stopping.

It's a news article from Kyodo News+—the headline screaming in bold letters:

"Gojo Satoru’s Secret Love Child Surfaces: The Hidden Son of a Billionaire."

The scream shatters the tension in the air, sharp and filled with raw emotion. Himari’s voice echoes down the halls, a guttural cry of frustration, shock, and betrayal that causes everyone within earshot to freeze. She doesn’t care that her perfectly styled hair is being whipped around as she pushes her way through the staff, her hands trembling in a mix of fury and disbelief. The phone she had been holding moments ago crashes against the wall, the screen cracking as her thoughts spiral out of control. Her breath is ragged, each step fueled by a mixture of hurt and anger as she moves with purpose, her eyes burning with a desperate intensity. “SATORU GOJO!” she screams, her voice cracking as the words leave her lips, the weight of them crashing down on her. “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

The maids scatter in her wake, unsure of how to respond to the chaos unfolding. But Himari isn’t looking at them. Her focus is elsewhere—on the person who just shattered the carefully constructed world she had built, on the one who, in a single moment, has upended everything she thought she knew.

She doesn’t even notice as she storms past the door to her parents’ private quarters, the sound of her footsteps growing louder with each step. The fury in her chest roars louder than the world around her as she moves toward the only people who could possibly understand the devastation she feels.

It’s not just betrayal anymore. It’s the crushing weight of a life built on lies. And Himari has had enough.

“Pffft!”

“Hey! You just spit on me, you asshole!”

Naoya’s voice rings out, practically shrill with laughter. His excitement is palpable, and it only serves to irritate Toji even more. "Toji! Toji! You have to see this!" Toji’s eyes narrow, his broad arms crossed over his bare chest as he leans back in his seat. The view of Lake Como stretches before him, but it feels distant, almost irrelevant compared to his cousin’s incessant enthusiasm. Vacation my ass, he thinks bitterly, wondering why he bothered to come here in the first place. He sighs, irritation lining his features. "Look at what?"

Naoya, unable to contain himself, thrusts his phone right into Toji’s face, nearly shoving it into his nose. "Look!" he repeats, bouncing on his heels, a look of sheer excitement on his face.

Toji groans, rolling his eyes. “I thought we agreed, no phones while we’re on vacation.”

Naoya ignores him completely, his grin widening. “Oh, trust me, this is worth it.”

With a heavy sigh, Toji finally reaches for the phone, taking it reluctantly. He presses the screen, waiting for the phone to wake up. The moment it does, his eyes meet the image that fills the screen—a photo of his business rival, Satoru Gojo, accompanied by a headline that stops Toji dead in his tracks. His brows furrow, the usual calm expression faltering for a moment. The headline’s words are seared into his brain, and Toji feels a pulse of confusion and something else he can’t quite name. He leans in closer, then back again, as if trying to process what he’s seeing.

"...What the hell?" he mutters under his breath. The image before him shows Satoru with a woman, someone Toji doesn’t recognize, and a child—Satoru’s child, if the headline is anything to go by.

Naoya’s grin only grows as he watches Toji’s reaction. “Pretty wild, huh? Didn’t see that coming from Gojo, did you?”

Toji’s fingers tighten around the phone, his eyes narrowing further. He doesn’t respond at first, too absorbed in the strange mix of shock and calculation churning in his mind. This isn’t just some random leak; it’s clearly orchestrated. “Where the hell did this come from?” Toji asks, finally looking back at his cousin, who’s still watching him with amusement.

Naoya shrugs nonchalantly. “Don’t know. Just saw it on a news feed. Looks like Gojo’s got some explaining to do, huh?” Toji just shakes his head, his mind already spinning with possibilities.

He tosses the phone back to Naoya. “You’ve got some sick timing. Let’s see how this plays out.”

Naoya chuckles, oblivious to the wheels turning in Toji’s mind. “You know, you might want to take advantage of this. Could mean something for the company, or at least an edge over Gojo.”

Toji’s lips curl into a slight smirk, but it’s more predatory than playful. “We’ll see, Naoya. We’ll see.”

You feel like you can’t breathe, like nothing’s real. Staring at your TV screen with complete and utter shock, frozen in place. The world around you feels like it’s fading, as if you’re watching everything happen from a distance, disconnected from reality. Your eyes are locked on the TV screen, but you can’t process what you’re seeing—everything is too surreal.

“Hey, that’s me!” Koji happily exclaims, pointing to his young face on the screen, being carried by Satoru. From the looks of it, the picture was taken yesterday, inside Sator’s penthouse. But the picture is from an outside perspective.

The realization hits you like a cold wave. Who the hell took this? The blood drains from your face as your heart pounds even harder. How did they get this shot? Your stomach turns, a knot tightening in your chest. Isn’t this illegal?

Satoru’s name comes out of your mouth like a whisper of panic. “Satoru…”

You can barely hear your own voice over the buzzing in your ears, as your mind races, trying to process what this means. How could anyone have gotten this close? How could someone have been watching? The image on the screen—the calmness in Koji’s face, the warmth in Satoru’s arms—makes your blood run cold. Koji’s innocent voice cuts through again, “Mama, why is it on TV? Are we famous?” He giggles, clearly unaware of the danger that’s now in your midst.

You mouth emits a breathe of air that faintly resembles a chuckle. But you’re not laughing. You’re too frozen in fear to say anything, to even move. You can’t shake the feeling that something is horribly wrong, that the peaceful life you’ve managed to carve out with your son is hanging by a thread. You hold your breath, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

How many people know about this? How much further can they go?

How much further can you go?

The woman leans back in her chair, the flickering light of her computer screen casting shadows across her face as she watches the confirmation of the transaction appear before her eyes. Her lips curl into a snarky, satisfied grin. It’s the kind of smile that’s dangerous, the kind of smile that tells you she’s one step ahead, and there’s no turning back now.

A low, almost guttural laugh escapes her—deep and malevolent, echoing in the quiet room. The money is more than just a transaction; it’s power, it’s leverage. And the best part? No one even knows it’s her. Not yet.

She pauses, letting the silence stretch out before her next move. She takes a slow, deliberate breath, savoring the moment, then leans forward. “Wonderful…” she whispers to herself.

a/n: i'm sorry if things seemed rushed, chap was getting looong. but enjoy!

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atinystarcafe · 3 months ago

Text

Yunho fic recs

────୨ৎ────

✴ : smut ᯓᡣ𐭩 : absolute favourites

[Last updated: 07.04.2025] ⋆˙⟡ If any links don't work anymore please let me know I'll get it fixed as soon as possible ^^

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Series ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Across Stardust - @honeyhotteoks ✴ | soulmate au, idol!yunho x makeup artist!reader (ONGOING)

you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you’ve never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he’s so much more than a crush, he’s your soulmate.

Summer nights | Summer's End - @honeyhotteoks ✴ | roommates au (COMPLETED)

he's your best friend and roommate, but during the heat of summer and the confinement of quarantine, you just can't seem to help yourselves.

Guard Dog | part 2 - @beenbaanbuun | hybrid au, hybrid!yunho

Ok, Cowboy - @everyonewooeverywhere (✴) | strangers to lovers au, cowboy mechanic!yunho (ONGOING)

when you come into his shop to get your boyfriend's car fixed, yunho can help but wonder what a hardworking, pretty girl like you is doing with someone so...pathetic. and maybe, just maybe, he feels like he could treat you better.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Guerilla | bonus - @sorryimananti-romantic ✴ | serial killer doctor!yunho x crime fiction writer!reader (COMPLETED)

you're a crime fiction writer and you move in with dr. jeong yunho despite his strange, strict house rules. he's very private and you don't mind that, but he's also very cold and unapproachable and you're determined to crack through his walls. little did you know your obsession with gore and crime would melt his heart. Soon, you find yourself tangled in lies, secrets and a detective from your past who suspects yunho and his gang as you navigate thru your relationship with him.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Oneshots and drabbles ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sudden + (A)cute - @eoieopda | friends to lovers au

jeong yunho’s got a serious case of downbaditis — oh, and also a cold.

Stupid In Love - @koyagifs | soon to be parent!au

yunho so excited to become a father, he was determined to make your babymoon the most memorable memory for you.

Antithesis - @kitten4sannie ✴ | spiderman/venom bf!yunho

your boyfriend is going through a phase.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sixth Sense - @pirateprincessblog | spiderman au, enemies to lovers au, spiderman!yunho x villain!reader

while all of the city loves their superhero and is ready to defend him with their lives, you seem to be the only fool looking at the bigger picture. and the only one to loathe spiderman.

Pressure Points - @jinkoh ✴ | physiotherapist!yunho

your physical therapy is getting very physical

Love Again - @xomakara ✴ | single parent au, single parent!yunho x single parent!reader

You're a lonely single mother sleeping with your coworker, Yunho, who is also a lonely single dad, for the past few months. One night, after a passionate moment, Yunho suggests that maybe it's time for your daughter and his daughter to finally meet.

P☆RNST☆R - @slutforwoo ✴ | nerd!yunho x gothcamgirl!reader

Yunho’s friends notice him overworking himself like never before. Hongjoong, being the good friend he is, recommends his favorite camgirl. In hopes he can start to destress himself. But being the workaholic he is, he decides to start tutoring for extra cash. Y/n is failing her chemistry classes again. Again. On probation with the school, she agrees to get a tutor. Well, who would’ve thought that tutor would end up being Yunho, and that during one of their study sessions he’ll recognize that back tattoo of his new favorite pastime? Guess we have to find out, don’t we?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The Drill - @byuntrash101 ✴

yunho cant seem to pick up anyone at the club. for two main reasons, two problems if you will. the first one: his rizz level is negative and the second one... well it's bigger. much, much bigger. a huge problem wooyoung has named "the drill"

Prove Her Wrong - @kp-alice ✴ | sub bf!yunho

Yunho knew that what that stranger had said to him back then wasn't true. He quite literally had physical evidence to prove it. And yet, he couldn't help but think about her comment a little too often.

Can't Get Rid Of You - @yunniverse | academic rivals to lovers au

both you and yunho are chosen to attend the same conference, staying in a local hotel, only there’s only one room, and you both seemingly hate each other

Is that me? - @evenyvn | streamer!yunho x gf!reader

in which yunho makes his in game avatar eerily similar to you and thought no one will notice.

Raw Need - @mingi-s-dimples ✴ | omegaverse au, alpha!yunho x omega!reader

your first rut washed rough over you... and even if you didn't wanna do anything about it... your man made sure he'd fuck you senseless thru your rut.

Highs And Lows - @slutteok ✴ | gamer!yunho

you and yunho always joked about getting a dog bed.

09:12 - @atinyslittleworld | protective friend!yunho

Yunho’s protective instincts surface when a persistent stalker confronts Y/N, revealing his possessive side and sparking unexpected emotions.

23:13 PM - @hwaightme | bf!yunho

to be loved is to be heard, and yunho reminds you of this again and again, knowing you beyond the literal and the expected.

Dibs - @s4nniebe4r | rival!yunho

somebody keeps stealing your favorite chair

Find You In My Heart - @anxiouscherubs ✴ | friends to lovers au

the one where you get dumped and your best friend is there to help you realize what you truly deserve… what’s been in front of you all along.

Playing In Glass Houses - @honeyhotteoks ✴

the idea was simple, buy a new toy and spice up your relationship. you didn’t expect it to be like this.

The Fall - @honeyhotteoks | idol bf!yunho x dancer!reader

during dance practice for the upcoming tour, you fall from a dangerous position, yunho reacts and gets you to the hospital.

In The Act - @honeyhotteoks ✴ | roommate!yunho

you and yunho are roommates. he never comes home early, except for the one time he does and catches you in the middle of touching yourself and moaning his name.

Darling Mine - @yuyusbabygirl ✴

You spend the night at your boyfriend's place for the first time and he really likes it when you wear his clothes

Pretty Hands - @starcrossedmusings ✴ | best friends to lovers au

You and Yunho have been friends for years, and you tell each other everything. He suddenly takes a much more vested interest in your love life when you can't stop mentioning your newest interest.

Too Sweet - @hongjoongspoetry ✴ | upcoming rockstar!yunho, opposites attract au

Two complete opposites who are quickly falling for each other, one wanting more but the other afraid of all the things that could go wrong.

Testing The Waters - @stayteezdreams | friends to lovers au

While attending a Halloween party, you learn Yunho's mystery costume was really just a plan to make his feelings for you a bit more obvious.

Tension And Desires - @xomakara ✴ | oblivious friends to lovers au

You and Yunho are friends who are oblivious to each other's feelings. Despite the playful animosity between you two, a strong sexual tension simmers beneath the surface. After a night of flirting and drinking, you finally give in to your desires…

Snuggles And Cuddles - @makeitmingi | drunk bf!yunho

Yunho has the best alcohol tolerance amongst his friends. However, after a night out, you didn't think that his best friend would bring him home, absolutely wasted. Seems like alcohol unlocks a whole new side of your boyfriend you didn't know existed

Kinktober 2024 : Breeding - @desirehorizon ✴

an innocent question to your boyfriend leaves you pumped full of his cum - what an evening!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The Puppy With An MAcc - @kp-alice | client!yunho x dominatrix!reader

Despite officially retiring as a professional dominatrix months ago, there's one client you've decided to keep. Maybe it's because of the generous amount he pays, or maybe, just maybe, it's more than that. With the lines between the two of you continuously blurring, you can't help but return every time.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 A "First" Date - @wooyoungiewritings ✴ | best friends to lovers au

Your best friend Yunho and you always find dates for each other, trying to help each other out with love. You always try to find the best ones for each other, but one day, Yunho sets you up with his “friend”, and you quickly realize that your best friend wants to prove a point. And maybe he actually knows you better than you think - in multiple ways.

All I Want For Christmas Is You - @starrysvn | friends to lovers au, fake dating au

college christmas parties, one way or another, always offered you the clarity you needed. like when you asked your friend yunho to be your fake boyfriend for the holidays

Feeling Like I Do - @sorryimananti-romantic | best friends to lovers au

you and yunho have been best friends since forever and neighbours for a while, and you find it harder with each passing day to hide your feelings for him.

Player 9 - @pirateprincessblog ✴ | football player/coach!yunho x aunt!reader

finally reuniting with your family after years of working abroad, your six year old nephew doesn't leave your side. he wants you to take him to school, he wants to do his homework with you, he wants to sit on your lap during meals, and he wants you to watch his football practice. how convenient that you're almost always alone on that stadium, and that his coach is just the most gorgeous man you've ever seen in your life.

Muse - @yunholuvrr ✴ | model!yunho x photographer!reader

Your friend Hongjoong just held a show for his new fashion line and invited you to photograph the event, but one model catches your eye more than any of the clothes on the runway.

Opposites Attract - @tainsan ✴ | college au, tutor!yunho

you are on the verge of being expelled, so your teacher helps you find a tutor, yet what you weren't expecting was much more than just tutoring sessions.

Come Fly With Me - @hwaightme | pilot!yunho x journalist!reader

Aerophobia - the fear of flying. And clearly, something that your boss has no idea exists. While you curse the universe and the metal bird, your handsome seatmate ponders if it is possible to redirect this flight, from Gwangju, to your heart.

Good Boy - @yuyusboyfriend ✴

helping your roommate with a hard problem...

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Puppyboys4you.com - @kitten4sannie ✴ | camboy!yunho

dedicating your hard earned money and free time to your favorite camboy goodboy_99 comes with a lot of perks.

Something To Give Eachother - @sungbeam | childhood best friends to lovers au

yunho might have been the superstar out of the two of you, but you have always been the center of his universe. (you — it's always been you.)

739 Yunho - @potatomountain ✴ |cnc, sexworker!yunho

with sex work legal, it was as readily available as texting *739, filling out the form sent, and either choosing your partner or letting the company choose you. Even the more controversial kinks were accommodated, and that was something you wanted.

Hide And Seek - @kitten4sannie ✴ | cnc, bf!yunho

You and Yunho play your favorite game together.

Hunted - @mulloey ✴ | cnc, internet hookup!yunho

it’s all a game, he says. you’re desperate to play.

[2:12 am] - @hwaflms | bf!yunho

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Do You Have Abs? - @vent-stink

A Special Gift - @xuchiya | bf!yunho

[1:15] - @yuyusgirlie | husband!yunho

Four In The Morning - @ateezmakemeweep ✴ | strangers to lovers au

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Arrogant CEO Yunho Who Gets Knocked Down By His Cute Little Intern - @crimsonbubble ✴ | ceo!yunho x intern!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Untitled - @seobinghard

Your Skin Is Against My Body - @323cutie ✴

The Way You Look At Me - @323cutie

Anniversaries - @x0x0josephinex0x0 | bf!yunho

Photoshoot - @atinysunbaby | idol!yunho x idol!reader

────୨ৎ────

#mist🫧 recommends #ateez fic recs #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez imagines #yunho fic recs #yunho x reader #yunho smut

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straylightdream · 1 month ago

Text

I like you, maybe

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeon wonwoo x afb.reader

an invited to your estranged father’s wedding leaving you scrambling to find a fake boyfriend.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): friends to lovers, mutual pining, romance, comfort, angst, smut, fake dating

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): nonidol au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10k

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: daddy issues, family issues, angst, fake dating, alcohol consumption, crying, lots of emotions

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: protected p in v, vanilla sweet smut, breast/nipple play, fingering, clit play, hand job

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw

𝐚𝐧: thank you @aeristudios for helping me name this and @vampsol for the beautiful banner. Thank you @cheers-to-you-th & @supi-wupi for beta reading. This is an older story that I have been wanting to rewrite for the longest time.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

At age eleven you learned the harsh reality that not all marriages work out. On one warm June afternoon you walked into the kitchen in the home you grew up in to find your parents in the middle of an argument. Your mother tearfully informed you that your mother and father were getting divorced. Your father left that day and you didn’t see him for about two months. When he finally came back around, you got to meet his new girlfriend that he had an affair with. At age eleven you built up walls around your heart without even trying. You learned a harsh lesson that love might not actually exist.

Sitting in Mingyu’s apartment you sat at the kitchen table working on your presentation for your. Your phone vibrated and you looked down to see a text from your father. As you read over the text, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. It’s rare your father actually texts you, and honestly when he does you tend to be left being annoyed.

Mingyu watched as you groaned while reading something. “What are you annoyed about?” he asked before taking a drink from the bottle of beer that was sitting on the table. He tended to be able to read you like an open book.

“Well my father is getting married in two weeks and just decided to let me know,” you sighed. You weren’t exactly surprised that he was getting married. You had met his girlfriend who you assumed was his new fiancé a few times. You weren’t exactly the biggest fan of hers. She was quite a bit younger than your father and pretty stuck up.

To say that your relationship with her father was stranded would be an understatement. When you were thirteen, he attempted to see you one weekend every month. He soon learned that he didn’t have much in common with you, and he went back to occasionally having dinner with you like once a month. In the last year he had only seen you maybe three times max. You didn’t even know that he was engaged to his new girlfriend—you barely even really knew her.

“Are you going to go?” Mingyu asked, knowing that you don’t have a great relationship with your father. There had been a handful of drunken nights, where you had breakdowns over the feeling that your father was never going to truly love you. You always felt as if you were never good enough for your father. No one saw you truly upset over your relationship with your father other than Mingyu and Wonwoo.

“I don’t think I have a choice, if I don’t go, my grandma, and dad won’t let me live it down.” You sighed. You’ve contemplated going no contact but you knew it would be hard. There is this part of you that thinks if you try hard enough maybe one day your relationship could be fixed. “Oh my god I don’t want to go to this alone.” You knew that this wedding was going to be a lot of people asking you why you’re single, and if you’re going to have kids. All your cousins were married and had kids, and you’re the only single one. Every Christmas— one of the few times you would see that side of the family—everyone would always harp on you,asking a million questions about your life.

“You should have someone go with you,” Mingyu said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Do you want to go with me?” you asked, praying maybe Mingyu could save you from going to this alone. You knew that Mingyu could play the part as the perfect boyfriend. Your mother already loved him and constantly told you that you should date someone like Mingyu. You knew your father would love him too. He’s a parent’s dream partner for their daughter.

“I can’t because it’s my mom’s birthday that weekend so I’m going to be at a family event out of town,” he said. You could hear the guilt in his voice, could tell that he didn't want to send you alone but wasn't able to help.

“Literally everyone is going to be in my business about not having a boyfriend. I need to get a date within the next two weeks,” you said with a sarcastic laugh knowing damn well that was going to be nearly impossible.

“What are you talking about?” Wonwoo asked, walking into the kitchen. He sat down next to Mingyu and looked over at you, pushing up his glasses. You had completely forgotten Wonwoo was home. He’d been locked away in his room playing video games.

You explained your situation to him, leaning forward to rest your face in your hands with a sigh.

“So, you want someone to be your fake date?” Wonwoo asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Bingo,” Mingyu replied before taking another drink of his beer., having given up on doing his own work long ago.

Wonwoo shrugged “I mean I can go with you if you want. I think I would make a pretty good fake boyfriend.”

You looked up at Wonwoo and knit your eyebrows together and stared at him wondering if he was serious.“Really? You’d do that?” You couldn’t handle it if he's just messing with you.

He shrugged his shoulders again, oh so casual. “Yeah, why not? Weddings are great; free food, free drinks, what’s not to love?”

Shutting your laptop, you looked over at Wonwoo who was smiling. “Jeon Wonwoo, you’re a lifesaver.”

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, giving you a calming smile.

“Well, the venue is two hours away so my dad’s booking me a room for the weekend, I’ll let him know I’m bringing my boyfriend.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The weekend of the wedding rolled around, the two hour drive filled with your anxieties. You couldn’t lie, you were pretty nervous about bringing Wonwoo as your fake boyfriend. You hated bringing dates to your family events, especially your dad’s side of the family. Especially your dad’s side of the family, who was prone to asking inappropriate questions and stick their noses into your business.

“So how long have we been dating?” Wonwoo asked as he kept driving. Snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

You looked over at him and realized that you needed to come up with a story on your relationship; how, when, where you met. , having planned on just winging it— not your best idea. Luckily Wonwoo knew you needed to have a game plan.

“I guess we can say six months that way I can say we started dating after Christmas.” You replied, not needing them grilling you for not mentioning him back then.

“Okay, sounds good, are we saying that we were friends before we started dating?” he asked.

“Yeah I think that sounds good? Maybe we can say Mingyu pointed out we would make a good pair.”

“Your father has met Mingyu before, right?”

“Yeah he’s met him before. He loves Mingyu.”

“All parents love Mingyu.” He let out a soft laugh.

“Alright, Mingyu thought we’d be good together so I decided to pursue you,” you began, “we started dating six months ago, a bit after Christmas. Sounds like a plan.”

You liked that Wonwoo was putting effort into your half-assed plan, thinking of things you hadn’t. You could tell he was taking the trip seriously, putting you at ease.

You arrived at the fancy hotel that your father was getting married at. Wonwoo got out of the car and walked over to help you get out of the car. He popped the trunk open and walked over to get both of your suitcases. You feel as if you’re in autopilot mode. You were a one track mind on just getting through this weekend. You went to walk inside, but before you could walk away Wonwoo reached down and grabbed your hand. You stopped immediately and looked down at yours and Wonwoo’s hand. Holding his hand feels safe and warm. He gave you a small smile and nodded. Having Wonwoo here with you felt like a sense of protection.

You walked into the hotel lobby and were greeted instantly by your dad and his new young wife. The nerves suddenly kicked in as they started walking your way. How are you supposed to lie to them all weekend and pretend Wonwoo has been your boyfriend for six months.

“Sweetie, I’m so glad you’re here,” your future stepmom said as she wrapped her arms around you. She pulled you into a tight hug. You dropped Wonwoo’s hand and looked over at him with startled eyes. You weren't exactly a fan of Dea. You thought she was shallow and you weren’t exactly a fan of the fact that she was barely ten years older than you. Dea let go of you and walked over and wrapped her arms around an unexpected Wonwoo. “You must be her boyfriend, Wonwoo.”

“Yep,” Wonwoo said awkwardly.

Dea let go of Wonwoo and walked over and stood next to her dad. “I’m glad you came sweetie” he said knowing that there was a chance you wouldn’t come to this wedding. Anyone with eyes can tell you and your father’s relationship is extremely strained. Your father might try and sugar coat what happened, but it’s is very much common knowledge he had an affair and cheated on your mother.

“Which room are we in?” You desperately need to escape this conversation. You need to get away from your dad and Dea. Peace and quiet while unwinding with Wonwoo sounds like an absolute dream.

“You guys are on floor three in room 389,” he said, reaching into his pocket to pull out yours and Wonwoo’s room keys.

“Thanks,” you snagged the room key.

You reached down and took Wonwoo’s hand, leading him over to the elevator. The moment you were in the elevator and the doors shut you let out a sigh of relief. Suddenly all the tension in your body dissipates. Leaning against the wall you looked up at Wonwoo wondering if he regretted coming along on this trip. He probably had no idea how awkward things are between you and your father.

“Dea is very young?” he said, breaking the silence between you. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Yeah my dad likes them younger than him,” you let out a soft laugh. The elevator dinged and the doors opened, and you walked down the hall towards their room. Opening the door, you’re greeted to the sight of a single queen size bed in the middle of the room. You looked over at Wonwoo as he sat his suitcase down. Of course there is only one bed. For some reason you didn’t think about the fact you were going to have to share a bed.

You must look like an idiot just standing there staring at the bed. “I can sleep on the couch if you want,” he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. Walking over and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Wonwoo were both adults. We can share the bed.”

You’ve definitely had sleep overs at his and Mingyu’s place after long nights. The idea of sharing a bed with a male friend shouldn’t be weird. The only issue with that is you couldn’t lie, you've always had somewhat of a crush on Wonwoo since you met him freshman year. He was a handsome guy and was super charming, but Wonwoo had always been somewhat of a heartbreaker. There are stories on campus about girls falling hard for the boy you’re sharing a bed with. There is also the minor detail, you don’t think that Wonwoo would ever have feelings for you. As soon as you realize you developed feelings for him you push them away. This little voice inside of you told you, if you didn’t have feelings for him, you couldn’t get hurt.

“Okay, I don’t mind sharing the bed at all.”

You walked over and sat down next to him on the bed. He reached over and laced his fingers with your and gently squeezed your hand three times. Mingyu does this when he knows you need to calm down. It’s sweet that Wonwoo does the same thing.

“You’re going to get through this weekend. I’ll be here the whole time with you. I’ll be there to hold your hand whenever things get rough.” Since your dad left things haven’t been the easiest. You’re definitely quite guarded and all your romantic relationships haven't worked out. Mingyu has been the only constant in your life since you were sixteen. He’s not a romantic interest for you, but he’s the best friend you could ask for. He understands why you’re so guarded and has never judged or said anything about it. Before he introduced you to his college roommate turned other best friend Wonwoo, he told you Wonwoo would look out for you just like he does. He wasn’t wrong, Wonwoo became another stable fixture in your life.

Looking over at Wonwoo, he’s giving you a soft smile, letting you know that this is going to be okay. That he was here to support you through all this. With Mingyu and Wonwoo in your life you’re never alone.

“This is going to be an interesting weekend.”

You spent time in your room for a few hours. Wonwoo took a nap while you sat at the small table that was placed in front of the window with your laptop in front of you. You took this time to work on a few projects you had for summer school classes.

As the sun started to set, you knew that Wonwoo and you were going to have to get ready to go to the rehearsal dinner. This was going to be the moment when the rest of your family saw you with Wonwoo. You stood in the bathroom putting on makeup as Wonwoo was getting dressed. You did your hair nicely and got dressed in a pale pink dress you bought just for the rehearsal dinner. Walking into the bedroom you found Wonwoo sitting on the bed looking at his phone. He was dressed in a pair of grey dress pants, and white dress shirt without a tie. God he’s so handsome.

As he looked up he pushed his glasses on the bridge of his nose. His bright eyes locked onto yours, he couldn’t help but smile. “You look beautiful.” He stood up and walked over to you.

Hand in hand you walked to the rehearsal dinner, it’s being held in the lavish ballroom that was connected to the hotel. The whole time you were attending the dinner, Wonwoo rarely left your side. He was either holding your hand or his hand was resting on the small of your back. Letting you know that he was always with you. He braved all of your family as every single one of them came up to badger the happy “couple” with a million questions. As your grandmother came up for her round of nosy questions, you have never been happier in your life to have Wonwoo by your side.

Your grandmother seemed to instantly love Wonwoo. Honestly though, who could blame her? Wonwoo was extremely charming and seemed to know the correct answer to every question your grandmother seemed to throw at him. The night couldn’t have gone better. A weight felt as if it had been lifted off your shoulders.

As the dinner ended the two of you made your way back to your room. The moment the door was shut Wonwoo untucked his shirt and started unbuttoning it. You walked over and sat on the edge of the bed taking a moment to relax before you started getting ready for bed. The slight of Wonwoo’s bare torso was hard to look away from. He looks absolutely breathtaking. Looking up you find Wonwoo staring back at you with a smile plastered across his face. A flash of red hot embarrassment hits you like a tidal wave. The fact that he blatantly caught you oagling half naked body makes you want to curl up under the covers and hide.

He didn’t bother saying anything, he knew that you seemed quite embarrassed by how bright your cheeks were burning, after he caught your wandering eyes. Biting his lip, he held back a soft laugh.

The room suddenly felt so small. Jumping up you rushed off to the bathroom with the excuse you need to remove your makeup and brush your teeth.

Standing in the bathroom you take this time alone to try and ground yourself. This whole weekend feels like one big mind game. Removing your makeup, you splashed water on your face. Looking into the mirror you whispered to yourself, “you don’t like him. This whole thing isn’t real, he’s flirting and acting nice because he’s your fake boyfriend.” You need to put these feelings to a halt immediately. You aren't allowed to let your little crush on him develop into something more. That’s going to do nothing but break your heart.

Getting dressed in your pajamas, you walked back into the bedroom. Wonwoo is already comfortably under the covers lying down scrolling through his phone. Maybe you should just sleep on the couch for the night. Sharing a bed with Wonwoo could make things awkward. Being so close to him while he slept only in pajama pants might just be too much for you.

Before you could even say anything, Wonwoo spoke up. “Are you okay if I sleep on this side of the bed?”

“Yes.” You walk over to the other side of the bed and slowly crawl under the covers.

You should try to go to sleep but instead you can’t stop thinking about the boy lying in bed next to you. Laying on your side you stare at him silently. He’s lying on his back just staring at the ceiling. What could he possibly be thinking about? Let’s be real, he probably thought this side of your family was crazy. You can’t really blame him for thinking that either. Personally you weren’t even a big fan of this side of the family either. You have basically been an outcast for as long as you can remember.

He reached over and turned off the light that was on the bed side table. “Why do I feel like right now you’re over thinking everything?” His voice is gentle as he speaks to you.

You and Wonwoo had been friends for a while, and he knew you pretty well. You weren’t going to get away with saying that everything was fine. Because honestly at the moment everything was very far from fine. Everything around you felt as if it was spiraling out of control and Wonwoo was the only thing keeping you grounded. This whole trip had you completely on edge and filled with anxiety.

“This whole weekend is just extremely stressful. I also feel bad that I dragged you into it.”

He moved so he was laying on his side staring at you. He gently reached over and pushed a piece of your hair away from your face. He softly said, “I’m fine, you don’t have to worry about me this weekend. I’m here to hold your hand and make it through this weekend.”

You gave him a soft smile. There was something about knowing that Wonwoo is there by your side, and that he wants to make sure you don’t feel alone this weekend.

“Tomorrow at that wedding we are going to make such a hot couple that everyone is going to be jealous.” A cute smile plays cross his lips.

You couldn’t help but smile back at him. It was almost contagious. “Well my family already thinks you’re an amazing boyfriend.”

“I can’t help it, I’m known to be pretty charming.” He reached over and laced his fingers with yours. Your stomach feels as if it’s in a twist with the feeling of butterflies. “Also, for some reason grandparents always seem to like me.”

“Well I think you’re the first boyfriend I have ever brought to a family event that my grandmother actually likes. She’s pretty savage when it comes to asking personal questions.”

He squeezed your hand gently and said, “well I didn’t think she wasn’t too bad.”

Silently you stared at each other for a moment just enjoying each other’s company. There is a long moment of silence before you finally speak. “I don’t think I could have done this without you.”

“I’m glad you asked me to come to this wedding with you. I don’t feel like we ever hang out without Mingyu, and it’s nice to finally have some one-on-one time.” He’s not wrong, your whole entire friendship with Wonwoo consisted of your mutual best friend being there as well. You’ve probably hung out with Wonwoon maybe once without Mingyu, before this weekend.

“I feel like we’re actually getting to know each other.”

“Yeah, and I like that a lot.” He put emphasis on a lot, and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Wonwoo had feelings for you as well. Maybe your crush isn’t as one sided as you always thought it was. What little time you have spent together one on one already has you questioning your feelings for him. What if this was more than just a little crush? What if you have actually fallen for your cute gamer friend. You knew putting on a show tomorrow at the wedding wasn’t going to help you confusion at all.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As the morning light shined through the curtains, you were woken up to Wonwoo’s strong body curled up behind you. Your eyes popped open when you realized how close you were. Wonwoo started to stir and his arm that swung across your soft stomach pulled your body closer to his tone body. He nuzzled his face against the back of your neck. Your eyes stayed wide open, as you attempted to pretend you’re still sleeping. She wondered if he was aware of what he was doing. He mumbled something you couldn't make out, sounding as if he’s still asleep.

He stayed close pressed up against you. His arm still wrapped tightly around you, for about five minutes before you gently lifted his arm and moved away from him. As you started to get out of bed Wonwoo’s warm eyes slowly opened.

“Good morning,” he yawned.

“Morning.”

“What time is the wedding?” he asked.

“The ceremony starts at three,” you said as you got out of bed.

He nodded his head and yawned as he rolled onto his back, and slowly stretched. You couldn’t help but stare at his practically naked body as he put himself on display as he stretched. Looking away you needed to get away before you said or did something you would regret when this was all over. Quickly you walked off to your suitcase.

“Did you need to use the bathroom before I take a shower?”

“Yeah, let me go really quick.” He got out of bed and walked off to the bathroom.

You looked through your suitcase to pull out the dress she had bought to wear to the wedding. Turning around you found Wonwoo walking out of the bathroom. How is he so hot without even trying? He still looks half asleep and he is wearing a pair of sweatpants that show off his mouth watering v lines.

“Did we want to go grab brunch or something before the wedding?” He asked as he scratched the back of his neck.

You nodded, “yeah that would be nice.”

“Should we get ready in normal clothes and get dressed for the wedding after brunch?” He sat down on the edge of bed.

“Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

You pulled out the light blue dress you had bought for the wedding. You hung the dress up in the closet and then walked back to the suitcase to grab a sundress you had picked out to wear to brunch.

Walking into the bathroom you turned on the shower and let the water warm up, as you stripped away your clothes. Stepping into the shower you tried not to think about the stress of the day that was ahead of you. As the warm washed over your mind keeps wandering to Wonwoo. Without even trying he’s somehow taking over all your waking thoughts. You keep thinking about how it felt to wake up in his arms. The whole thing just felt so natural.

Turning off the water you take your time drying off before getting dressed. You put on some natural looking base makeup, so all you would have to put on when they got back from lunch would be your eye makeup.

Walking into the room you find Wonwoo lying on the bed staring at his phone. Glancing up he sat his phone on the bed and gave you a smile. His smile had always given you butterflies, from the first moment they had met. Even as time passed nothing had changed.

He sits up and grabs his glasses off the nightstand. “Ready to grab some food?” he asked.

You nod as you put on some black flats and walk over to grab your purse. Wonwoo jumped up and grabbed his wallet and the room key. Walking out into the hallway and without thinking Wonwoo reached down and laced his fingers with yours. You couldn’t help the warm feeling in your stomach as he held your hand tightly leading you down the hallway. As you stepped into the elevator, he continued to hold your hand, never letting go. The doors opened on the main floor and you stepped out, immediately ran into your grandmother and Aunt Rita.

They waved you both down. Wonwoo leaned down and whispered into your ear, “we can make it quick and I’ll whisk you away.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Look at the adorable couple,” aunt Rita said, stopping right in front of you.

“Wonwoo, where are you and my granddaughter off to?”

“We’re grabbing some brunch before we get ready for the wedding,” he smiled before leaning down and pressing his lips to your cheek. This was the first time you've ever shared any type of kiss. Even if it was just a peck on the cheek. You can’t push away the feeling that you like being able to be close to him like this.

“Oh, how romantic,” Aunt Rita says.

“Well we will leave you two love birds alone then,” your grandmother said before walking away.

He leaned down once again with his lips brushing your ear and whispered, “I told you I was going to save you.”

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you for this weekend.” Your tone was completely serious as you looked into his warm eyes. You didn’t understand how he could be such an amazing friend and so emotionally supportive for you this weekend.

He gave you his signature charming smile, “getting to spend a weekend with you is enough.”

Your heart started racing as you stared at him wondering if you had just heard him correctly. What little bit of alone time you've had spent together was reminding you of your crush. You can’t help but wonder if maybe it was more than a crush based on the way he was making you feel. You were also wondering if maybe he returned your feelings, based on what he had been saying. If he only saw you as a friend he wouldn’t be holding your hand any chance he gets either.

You sat in the café that was connected to the hotel. You were both enjoying your waffles and making small talk. You and Wonwoo had been friends for a while, but you weren’t as close with him as you were with Mingyu. This time you’re getting to spend together you felt like you had grown a lot closer. Just him spending time with him made you feel a lot more comfortable about everything.

You stop eating and stare at Wonwoo, smiling while listening to him tell a story about him and Mingyu when they were freshman in college during a drunken night out. You always loved hearing funny stories about Mingyu and Wonwoo adventures.

You finished eating and walked back to your room hand in hand. Wonwoo didn’t think twice about lacing his fingers with your. He does it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. You kept telling yourself that he keeps holding your hand because he knew he had to play the role of your loving boyfriend. If you don’t keep telling yourself that you might start falling for him even harder. There is no way you could handle it if he didn’t feel the same way. The one goal of this wedding was for you to keep your feelings under control.

Walking into the room you walked over to the closet and grabbed her your light blue dress. Excusing yourself to the bathroom, you take your time styling your hair just the way you like it. After you put on the rest of her makeup.

Grabbing your dress off the back of the door, and slipping it on. After quite a bit of struggling to get the zipper up, you finally give up. Holding the dress up to your chest, walking back into the room to find an extremely handsome looking Wonwoo dressed in a suit and tie.

His eyes went wide and a huge smile formed on his face. “You look so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, not even sure if you could properly speak at that moment. “Can you help with the zipper?” You turned around.

Silently he stepped forward and slowly dragged the zipper the rest of the way. His hand lingered on the exposed skin above your dress. He gently dragged his finger across the delicate above your dress.

Turning around he stares at you silently. Your stomach was doing flips at the way that he was looking at you. You weren’t sure anyone had ever looked at you the way Wonwoo was looking at you at that moment. His eyes were gentle and filled with what you could describe as love.

Looking over at the clock that was on the wall and saw you only had about twenty minutes until the wedding started. He reached down and took your hand in his. “I think maybe we should head off to the wedding.”

“Okay.”

Walking through the hotel out to the garden where the ceremony was being held. You sat in the middle away from all your family. It didn’t feel right sitting in the first two rows for close immediate family. Wonwoo had his arm over your shoulder. Holding your soft body close to his. He kept leaning over and whispering random things into your ear. Wonwoo deserves an Oscar for the performance he’s putting on. He was beaming knowing you were truly putting on one hell of a show. The issue is, you don't know how much of it was a show on your part.

As the ceremony started, you couldn’t lie, you absolutely hated every single moment of it. That hollow feeling in your chest feels deeper watching your father happily move on with his lip. How could you like watching your father get remarried. It just meant you were going to see him even less, and most likely your relationship was going to grow even more strand. This is a sign that maybe you can finally stop trying. He clearly hasn’t tried to fix your relationship. So why should you keep trying? As they exchanged vows many people were crying happy tears in the crowd, and your eyes started to brim with tears but they weren’t happy tears. They’re anything but tears of joy. Wonwoo noticed right away and leaned over and pressed his lips to your cheek kissing away the tears that slowly started to fall. He reached over with his free hands and laced his fingers with yours. Squeezing your hand three times.

There is no point in trying to hide your sadness from him. Looking over at him trying your hardest to stop crying. He leaned over and whispered, “if you want to leave now, we can. Or we can walk off to get some air. I just want you to know you aren’t alone.”

“I’m going to be okay,” you whispered as you squeezed his hand.

The ceremony came to a close and the bride and groom exit, and everyone slowly started heading off to the large ballroom that was set up. You sat completely still, not really moving. You were trying to gather yourself as much as possible. Wonwoo didn’t move or say anything, he just held your hand knowing that all this was extremely tough for you.

Wonwoo had heard you talk about your relationship with your father before. Many nights alone Mingyu has told him quite a bit about it. Mingyu hasn’t ever been a fan of your father. According to him, all your father does is break your heart. Wonwoo knew going into this weekend you needed someone to let you know you weren't alone. You needed support and someone who could be a shoulder to cry on. He would be whatever you needed him to be.

You both left alone in the garden. After what felt like an hour you finally slowly stood up. Nervously you start smoothing out your dress. Wonwoo stood up and watched you closely. Reaching up you brushed the tears away from one side of your face. Before you could reach the other cheek he reached over and gently rested his hand on your tear stained cheek. Gently brushing away your tears with his thumb. His warm eyes were locked on your sad eyes as he stared at you for a long moment. A long moment passed before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead gently. Closing your eyes, taking in his closeness as his lips lingered on your forehead. You reached for his hand and squeezed it just needing to be close to him for a moment.

“Are you ready for this?” You asked not even sure if you were truly ready.

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

This all feels like too much. Standing up, still holding his hand, you lead him towards the ballroom. Stopping right outside the doors of the room that was filled with over a hundred people. He reached up and placed hand on your cheek once again. There is a look of confusion on your face. Why did he suddenly decide to stop? You don’t ask why, you just stared at him.

“I want you to know that you’re a very special girl, and I wouldn’t be just anyone’s fake boyfriend. I did this because you mean a lot to me. You are so incredibly strong. I know this sucks, having to watch your father get married again. Hell I know I’m rambling a lot right now, but I need you to know that you don’t need your father’s approval on anything in life. If he doesn’t see how special you are and how talented and amazing you are. He’s a fucking idiot, and he doesn’t deserve your love.”

That definitely wasn’t what you expected him to say. Sure Mingyu has said similar stuff, but it feels very different hearing him say it. Completely caught off guard you just just stand there blinking, taking in everything he had just said. His sweet words had you once again on the brink of tears.

“When all this is over and we go home-“ He pauses and stares for a moment. “I want you to know that I’m still going to be there to hold your hand if you need me to.”

All you can do is smile. “Jeon Wonwoo you are something else.”

“Is that a good thing?” he asked, pushing his glasses up.

You nodded.

“Are you ready to put on a show?” It’s now or never. It’s time to go in there and show everyone how great Wonwoo is.

A smile tugs at his lips before he leans in to kiss your cheek. With his lips still ghosting your skin he whispered, “This doesn’t have to be a show, this can all be as real as you want it to.”

Suddenly the world feels as if it’s stopped spinning. This wasn’t just some one sided crush? He actually likes you back? Your heart raced and butterflies filled your stomach. Your eyes instantly go wide. You can’t help but wonder if that meant that he might feel something real for her the whole time.

“Let’s go honey.” He moved away from you, and led her into the ballroom that was already packed.

Walking over hand in hand you found your seats. You were relieved that you were at least sitting with some of your cousins that you were at least a little close with. Wonwoo leaned over and let you know he was going to find you something to drink. You stayed to talk to your cousin Irene who was your age and newly married.

“So where did you find that hot one?” Irene asked, smiling.

The feeling of pride that you experience that people are impressed with your date. “He’s a friend from college that I stayed close with.”

Irene brought a glass of wine up to her lips and took a sip and smiled at you. “Well you should keep him around and bring him to more family events, because he’s a babe.”

Before you could even respond, Wonwoo walked over and sat a drink down in front of you. Wonwoo pressed his lips to your cheek for a quick kiss. He sits down next to you.

“Did I miss anything?” he asked.

Irene shook her head, “nope.”

“Are you two not a big fan of PDA?” Irene asked, realizing that Wonwoo only ever kissed your cheek.

Knitting your eyebrows together, you realize you and Wonwoo hadn’t actually shared a kiss on the lips. He’s just been leaving sweet kisses on your cheek or forehead.

“I was just trying to be respectful of her family,” Wonwoo chimed in knowing that you were probably at a loss for words.

“Believe me sweetie nobody is going to be offended if you kiss for real,” Irene said before taking another sip of her wine.

Wonwoo turned to look at you. This was not how you expected your conversation with Irene to go. You must look pretty caught off guard by everything.

He reached over and rested his hand on your cheek and stared at you wondering if you were okay with them sharing a real kiss.

You could basically read his mind by the way he was staring at your lips. Without saying a word you nod your head.

Wonwoo took that as his cue and leaned forward to connect his lips to yours for a searing kiss. The moment your lips touch, electricity courses through your veins. There was a spark between you and Wonwoo that up until that moment you didn’t think existed. Your lips moved together, and Wonwoo gently slid his tongue across your bottom lips asking to deepen the kiss. You reached forward and gripped his blazer as your lips danced.

The sound of someone clearing their throat, catches your attention. Pulling away from Wonwoo. You looked up to see your father standing there.

“I see you two are having fun,” your father awkwardly said.

“Sorry about that sir,” Wonwoo said, not really being sorry at all.

“Sweetheart I was wondering if we could have a father daughter dance?”

You weren’t even able to fully process what had just happened between you and Wonwoo. Now you’re being put on the spot to share a dance with your father. This is far from something you want to do.

“Sure.”

Following you father through the crowd the dj starts playing a slow version of “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles. Your father reached out for you. Slowly you dance together in front of the whole ballroom. You’re both completely silent. You don’t even know what you should even talk about.

“So that Wonwoo guy seems good for you.” He finally says, speaking up.

For some reason his statement annoyed you. “What does that mean?”

“I think he could give you a good life, and you wouldn’t have to worry about working. He could really take care of you.” Your father smiled, completely unaware of how annoying his comments were.

“Am I ever going to be good enough for you?” You’ve finally had enough.

“(YN) why would you even ask me that?” he didn’t seem to understand why you‘re so upset. The problem with him is, he’s never going to understand how much he’s hurt you over the years. For some reason he’s convinced himself that leaving you and your mother didn’t hurt you.

“I could be a god damn rocket scientist who is a millionaire, and somehow or another you would still be disappointed in me.”

He shook his head. “That’s not true. I just have such high hopes for you,” he whispered, attempting to not cause a scene. This was supposed to be a touching father and daughter dance. All this moment is going instead is breaking your heart.

“I had high hopes for you when I was a kid, but that didn’t matter, you still cheated.” You pulled away from your father as the song came to close.

He stared at you looking completely shocked. There was no point in holding back anymore how much he’s broken your heart. “(YN) that had nothing to do with you. That was, and still is, between your mother and I.”

“Well you left us, so I think it had something to do with me.” He silently stared at you wide eyed, clearly unsure what to say to you. “I shouldn’t have even come to this,” you sighed, stepping away from him.

“(YN) I want you to know that I love you,” your father says.

Silently you nodded and walked towards Wonwoo. Everything suddenly feels like it’s falling apart and you can’t sit here and pretend to be happy anymore. You didn’t say anything as you sat down, you reached for your drink and started to chug it. Wonwoo watched knowing that something was said by your father to upset you. As you reached for his drink, he placed his hand lightly on your wrist, instantly stopping you. He couldn’t have you getting wasted at this wedding, you would regret it in the morning if you did.

How can your father make you feel so small with such little effort? No matter how hard you try, you truly just want his approval. The problem is no matter what you do, you unfortunately never get it.

“I’m never going to be enough.”

“That is not true, you are more than enough. You’ve always been enough to me.”

His statement suddenly made your world feel like it was spinning. The aching feeling in your chest doesn’t hurt as badly suddenly.

As music started playing loudly across the ballroom everyone that had been sitting at your table got up to go dance. The two of you stayed at the table. You're trying to process what Wonwoo said.

Your eyes were locked on his dark ones through his glasses. In that moment, you were completely lost in his warm eyes. After the interaction with your father you felt completely and utterly heartbroken. Somehow right in that exact moment you felt like everything was going to be okay. You had Wonwoo sitting right next to you letting you know that your father didn’t matter. If he didn’t think you were enough, he was an idiot.

Your heart was racing a million miles an hour as your eyes started to brim with tears once again. Biting your bottom lip, you weren’t even sure what you should say.

“Are you okay,” Wonwoo asked, growing concerned.

“Am I really enough?”

“I don’t think you are aware how much you mean to me.” He reached over and squeezed your hand. “I came here this weekend because I knew you needed a friend, and because I wanted a chance to see if you would maybe want more…” he hesitated. “I like you, a lot. I totally understand if you just want a friend. I want you to know how I feel.”

This was unexpected. Wonwoo has never even given you the slightest hint that he was interested in you romantically. Silently you stared at him. Not even sure what to say to him.

“You don’t have to say anything, but I want you to know how I feel. I also want to let you know that I don’t think you should give a single fuck what any of your family thinks about you. Especially your father.”

“Wonwoo, I like you too.” A weight feels like it’s been lifted off your chest.

He smiled and reached over and rested his hand on your cheek. “Did you maybe want to share a dance?”

The music had switched to a slow song. There is something about the idea of getting to slow dance with Wonwoo that gives you butterflies.

Standing up you hold your hand out. He laced his fingers with yours. Leading him towards the dance floor you feel your father staring at you. You moved through the crowded dance floor that was filled with couples dancing. He pulls you close to him. Wrapping your arms around his neck he holds your hips, holding you close to him. He bit his bottom lip as he stared at you, it made him happy to see you smiling a little. Looking down at his shirt you feel nervous making eye contact with him. Why do you suddenly feel nervous being this close to him? You had already confessed your feelings to each other. Why did this slow dance feel so intimate?

“You know you are by far the most beautiful girl in this room,” his sweet words caused you to blush.

Glancing up at him through your eyelashes you couldn’t believe this moment was real between you. Suddenly everything seemed like a dream as you swayed to the beat of the song.

“You are quite the charmer Wonwoo.”

“I only want to be charming when it comes to you, honey.”

“I couldn’t have made it through this without you.” The thought of you doing this alone makes your chest hurt.

“I’m going to be here for you even after we go home, and I will be your fake boyfriend forever if you need me to be.” He didn’t want to be just your fake boyfriend. “I could also be more if you would want that.” He was putting his heart and the ego on the line right then, but he needed you to know that he would take more if you would give him more.

“I want more,” you whispered as you stopped moving and just stared at each other.

Without a single word he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. Your lips moved together as he deepened the kiss. Reaching up and placing his hand on your cheek holding you close. There is no way you weren’t causing a scene, making out on the dance floor. It’s not like you care now. The room could have been on fire and you wouldn’t have even noticed. At that moment nothing seemed to matter other than you and Wonwoo.

Pulling away you whispered, “please take me to our room.” You need to escape and you know Wonwoo will take you anywhere you want to go.

“Are you sure?” He messed with his glasses almost nervously.

You nodded and reached down, taking his hand. Leading him through the ballroom and out the large white doors you had entered through. You silently made your way through the hotel and up the elevator. Nothing was said between you. Wonwoo stared at you as if the two of you were the only people in the entire world. Your stomach was doing flips at the thought of what was about to happen. There was a line that was about to be crossed. You don’t ever want to look back. You want to hold his hand as you both fall together.

Entering the room you make quick work of removing your shoes. You turn to look at Wonwoo who was removing his suit jacket. He stared at you wondering if you should just watch a movie and not do anything in the heat of the moment. He was worried you were just acting on your emotions.

You reached behind you to start trying to remove your dress. You turned so your back was to Wonwoo. There was no way you could remove this dress without Wonwoo’s help. He stepped forward and placed a sweet kiss on the back of your neck. A shiver went down your spine at the feeling of his electric touch. Slowly he dragged the zipped down your light blue dress and kissed his way down your spine ever so delicately. Holding your eyes closed tight taking in the feeling of his touch.

A sea of light blue fabric pools at your feet. Left standing in front of him in just your bra and panties.

The room feels different. It’s clear you both know everything is about to change. Honestly things probably changed the moment Wonwoo offered to come to this wedding with you. All your cards have been put on the table. You both have confessed your feelings. Wonwoo had made you feel like you were the most important person in the world. How do you possibly process that?

“Wonwoo what is going on here?” You asked, needing to know if he wanted this to happen. Because right then and there you felt as if you needed him with every part of your body and soul. Your soul aches for him to love you.

He was staring at you with lust blown pupils. He had just laid his heart out on the line, and told you that he wanted more. He wanted to give her everything, but this all had to be on your terms.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” he said softly.

“Wonwoo, I want this but we’re not just caught up in the illusion of a fake relationship, right?” Reaching up and resting your hand on his cheek. Being able to touch him like this is a wonderful reminder this is all real.

“Everything I feel for you has nothing to do with us faking a relationship. I know you think we’re caught up in the moment, but it’s real.”

“I know, I know. It’s just… damnit, I want you.” This all just doesn’t feel real. “This has just been such a crazy weekend. I just need to know that this is all real.”

“I know this has been a crazy weekend, but I want you to know that I want you too,” he reassured you. He had a lot of thoughts going through his own mind. “I want you so badly. I have for a while, but if you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to. I want you to know that everything I feel for you is real.”

“Promise me that even after we do this, you’ll still want me.” You needed to know that this was all real to him. That this wasn’t part of the illusion.

He leaned forward to give you a quick kiss, and slowly said, “I’ve wanted you for a while, and if you want this to be real. I’ll want you five seconds from now, and even five decades from here on.”

“Okay,” you whispered, stepping away from him.

He stared at you as you reached behind you to remove your strapless bra. As it fell to the floor Wonwoo stared at you in awe for a moment before he started to remove his tie. He untucked his shirt. Stepping forward to help him unbutton his shirt.

Leaning forward he placed a sweet kiss on you forehead, “I’ll never get over how beautiful you are.” Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you finished unbuttoning his shirt. He quickly took off his shoes and removed his socks, and got his pants off. “Can I touch you?” he asked, staring at your soft body.

Most of your life you have struggled with feeling comfortable in your own skin. The idea of being naked in front of someone wasn’t your favorite thought. The way he was looking at you made you feel comfortable. He made you feel truly wanted.

Silently you nodded. He reached out and gently palmed your breast. Leaning forward he starts kissing your bare shoulder. Working his way up your neck placing gentle bites and wet kisses. Soft moans pass your lips. His hand moved to the top of your panties, ever so slowly playing with the seam before his hand slid in. His fingers parted your folds and he gently stroked your sensitive nub.

You gasped at his touch. Everything feels warm and fuzzy. Reaching out to palm him through his boxers. He grew harder in your hand as you continued to palm him. He picks up his paces toying with your clit.

“I need you,” you murmured.

“Okay honey,” he whispered, removing his hand from your panties.

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet to remove his incase of emergency condom. He had always carried it with him. Stripping away your panties, you crawled onto the bed. Watching as he kicked off his boxers and tore the foil packet open with his teeth. His eyes stayed locked on yours as he rolled the rubber down his length.

Crawling onto the bed he slowly parted your knees and stared down at you for a long moment before finally speaking, “(YN) are you sure you want this right now? We can always wait and do this another time.”

There is nothing more on this planet that you want than Wonwoo. You desperately want to know what it’s like to be with him in every physical way possible. “Yeah, I want this. I want you.”

“Okay,” he slowly lined up with your entrance. “At any time, if this is too much for you, just tell me and we can stop right then. Don’t worry about upsetting me, I won’t be upset.”

“Wonwoo I just want this,” you reached for his strong hand that was resting on her soft hip.

“Okay,” he whispered as he slowly pushed in.

He leaned forward placing all his weight on his hands as he hovered over you. His hips started to slowly roll as he connected his lips to yours for a passionate kiss.

Your body is warm and all your brain can process is the feeling of Wonwoo filling you completely. The stars have aligned and your finally with the man you desperately want to fall in love with.

You moan as he kisses you, whispering sweet words against your lips. With each thrust he picked up his speed.

Throughout your life you’ve slept with a few people. Sex with Wonwoo was something completely different. You were overwhelmed completely in the best way possible by his touch. He continues to whispered words of praise into your ear causing you to become speechless. Nobody ever in her life had ever said the sweet words he was whispering. It was almost as if he knew all the right things to say. He made you feel as if you were the only person in the world that existed.

He kissed his way down your neck as you moaned his name.

Reaching down to where you’re connected, you started to slowly touch yourself. The moment Wonwoo realized what you were doing he stared at you in awe. He had seen nothing in his entire life as beautiful as you looked right then.

He moaned your name like a prayer. He continued to stare at you in awe. Moaning his name back, as you reached up with your hand that wasn’t touching yourself. Resting it on Wonwoo’s cheek. Your eyes stayed locked on each other as white hot wave washes over you. Wonwoo only got about two more thrust in when he hit his own high. He stilled in you and leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours for a sloppy kiss.

Rolling off of you he laid on his back and looked over at you and smiled, “how about we watch a movie?”

Everything feels perfect and you can’t help but smile.

Wonwoo reached down and pulled the covers up. Reaching over you grab the remote. Curling up next to him as you flipped through the list of movies.

-&-

The urge to pee wakes you up in the middle of the night. You’re still completely naked. Neither you or Wonwoo even bothered putting clothes on. You hadn’t even left the bed other than getting up to use the restroom. Wonwoo had thrown a robe on once so he could grab the room service that was delivered. You put a robe on so you weren't naked while eating. The moment you crawled back into bed you both were fully naked.

The trip to the bathroom was short. Crawling back into bed you moved closer to Wonwoo who had woken up. He let out a yawn and smiled at you.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“It’s like four am,” You said softly, rolling on your side next to him.

“Okay,” he yawned, laying right behind you so you were spooning. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your shoulder, “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

That wasn’t a statement you were expecting to hear. Your eyes are probably as wide as saucers. “Wonwoo, are you sure about that?”

He leaned up and with his lips brushing your ear whispered, “I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

You couldn’t help the smile that was plastered across your face. “Okay, let’s talk about it more in the morning when we’re both not half asleep.”

“Is that your way of rejecting me?” he asked with a soft laugh.

“No, I would never reject you Wonwoo. I just don’t want to have this conversation at four in the morning when we’re both half asleep and naked.”

“Okay honey,” he gently pressed his lips to your shoulder.

-&-

Around nine the both of you woke up. There was some tension between the two of you. Neither of you dare to bring up your conversation you shared in the middle of the night. Wonwoo wasn’t going to be the one to bring up first. He knows you well enough to know you’re definitely overthinking this. If he had to, he planned on just bringing it up a couple days after you returned home.

Around ten-thirty you checked out of the hotel and you were on your way back home. About thirty minutes into the drive home you looked over at Wonwoo who was focused on the road.

“Were you serious about what you said?” You needed to know if he regretted anything that had happened between you.

He glanced over at you for a quick second before looking back at the road, “I was one-hundred percent serious about every single thing I said this weekend.”

“Even the part about wanting to be my real boyfriend?” You asked, staring at him.

He wanted nothing more than to be your actual boyfriend.

“I was very serious about that,” he reached over and rested his hand on your soft thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Wonwoo please pull over.”

“Why?” he asked as he pulled over on the highway. He put the hazards on and looked over at you confused on why he was pulling over. Part of him was worried you were going to get out of the car and run away.

You reached over the center console and took his face in your hands. Crashing your lips into his for a sloppy kiss. Pulling away and smiling at him as he looked at you completely dumbstruck.

“What was that for?”

“I want you to be my real boyfriend, Wonwoo.”

“I would love to be your real boyfriend,” he had a huge smile on his face.

“Okay you can start driving again,” you leaned back in your seat and buckled up again.

Wonwoo had a huge smile plastered on his face as he turned back onto the highway. He reached over and laced his fingers with yours and squeezed your hand three times.

Who knew agreeing to be your fake boyfriend would lead to finally being able to call you his?

If you have asked to be tagged I request that you please reblog. If you could leave comments and or tags that would be greatly appreciated.

#svthub #keopihausnet #thediamondlifenetwork #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo imagine #wonwoo fanfiction #wonwoo fake dating #my writing #dreamie writes #SVT smut #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x insert reader #💎#🎮

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tddyhyck · 2 months ago

Text

our secret, right? [ s. jn ]

pairings ⇢ stepdad!johnny x fem!reader / side unnamed mom and johnny

warnings ⇢ 18+, stepcest, grooming, vaginal fingering, pet names (dad/daddy/baby/little one/kiddo/others), piss (swallowing, covering, wetting), gaslighting, oral m/f, public peeing, bra fitting??, naive reader, cum swallowing, feet stuff, reader has a bad mom, creep johnny, implied kidnapping, use of cunny and dad cock

word count ⇢ 17.7k

a/n ⇢ HIIIII

pt 2 ⇢ practice makes perfect

pt 3 ⇢ nobody baby but you and me

masterlist | ao3 | kofi

it didn’t take long for johnny to fully integrate himself into your family. you’d never seen your mom so happy and in love, she’d slowly started to trust you more even. you didn’t know that johnny had spent a while watching you seeing you out for church every sunday with your mom and on saturday for your errands.

most of your time was spent at home, your mom sheltering you from an early age. after your father died she became obsessed with keeping you inside, from homeschooling to limiting your time outside to once a week. when you turned 16 she upped it to twice a week and even let you spend a few hours home alone.

johnny noticed you at the park on a warm saturday, you and your mother were picnicking. he’d immediately been enthralled by your innocent face reeling him in like a fish to a worm. johnny was immediately drawn to you, his mind racing with filthy things he’d want to do to you.

he’d debated while he watched you from a park bench. would it be morally better to weasel his way into your life. probably better than just snatching you up and driving off with you. his mind wandered to a good way to sneak into your family life, did you need a handyman, maybe a father figure, or possibly a tutor.

that’s why he couldn’t help following you and your mother home. writing down her license plate and address to find more information about you two. he spent the next week researching and learning your habits or lack thereof. you stayed home everyday but saturday and sunday and your mother only left for exactly two hours each weekday.

it didn’t take long for him to find out her profession. that was how they met. johnny charming your mother until he married her a few short months later. you were so happy to have a father figure, especially one you liked so much. you warmed up to johnny easily he was kind and sweet and a lot more fun compared to your mother.

with him working from the home office your mother trusted him to watch you so she could spend more time out working with clients. you really didn’t need anyone to watch you do your university classes from your parental locked computer, but johnny didn’t mind. of course he didn't, he used that opportunity to spend more and more time with you.

johnny felt giddy the moment he pretended to enjoy kissing his wife goodbye hearing your exaggerated ewwws from the kitchen table. he’d shut the door, turn around and tease you. saying you were too grown up to care about adults kissing. you didn’t tell him you felt a little jealous wishing he’d kiss you the way he does your mom.

you’d even been practicing after their wedding and seeing them kiss. you stayed up past your bedtime lips mashing against your pillow as if it was your new dad. softly trying to mimic the way he had cupped your mother’s face before tilting her head and pressing his lips to hers. it made you frustrated.

it didn’t take long for you to feel comfortable with the new man of the house. quickly adapting to his routine so you could spend more time with him. you dreamed of finding a man just like your dad, soft but strong and very handsome. you’d never met a single boy who came close to your new dad’s qualities but you could dream.

soon enough johnny was no longer johnny he was dad or sometimes even daddy when you were really sleepy, and johnny didn’t mind. he cooed at you the first time you asked if you could call him dad. he sat you in his lap pouring praises at you for it. saying how much he loved you and this was another step towards your good father daughter relationship.

of course johnny didn’t mind it was all a part of his plan.

one morning during the beginning of the summer heat you came to the kitchen later than normal. your summer bedtime and alarm later by one whole hour. you rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you walked to the fridge bending down to grab your favorite juice. mumbling a good morning to your dad.

when you turned you woke up immediately, seeing your dad’s bare back as he leaned over the stove cooking eggs. large muscles on full display making you gasp.

“what’s wrong, little one?” he turned, showing his chest making sweat form at the base of your neck.

“uh, your, where’s your shirt? mom doesn’t like us to be naked,” you stammer, pointing to his naked chest.

“oh sorry darling, i spilled some oil on it.” he points to his shirt draped over his chair at the table. “it’s okay for us though dads and daughters can show skin. your mom’s just more strict with herself.”

“oh, are you sure?” you feel almost dizzy having never seen a boy without a shirt on you didn’t even know what to think.

“of course, baby. dads and daughters can be naked together, but don’t tell your mom you know she’d think we were yucky,” he grins like it’s your little secret.

“really!” you loved having things that were special just you and your dad. “then can i take my shirt off too?”

“well i think it’s only fair since you have to put up with your old dad’s chest,” he chuckles, turning the stove off before patting his stomach brushing over a small trail of hair. he acted like he was some beast but he was so handsome.

“you won’t laugh?”

“why would i laugh, you’re so beautiful,” he coos walking over to you hugging you close. his bare skin is warm and envelopes you, you can even smell the nice cologne he wears.

“you think so, dad?” you look up at him.

“i know so i’m lookin right at ya,” he teased, tapping your nose with his finger. “do you want dad’s help?”

“please,” you mutter looking away as his hands go to the hem of your shirt slowly pulling it up as you raise your arms for him.

“atta girl, you’re so brave for me,” he praises, watching your skin slowly appear. “such a pretty girl.” you stand in silence for a moment as your hair falls from the collar of the shirt looking to him for more confirmation.

“now why were you worried,” he grins, holding your shirt in his hand as he pets your head fixing your hair.

“it’s just, they aren’t too small,” you mumble, reaching to squeeze your small boobs.

“they’re just right for you, kiddo,” he assures, eyes staring at your hands squishing the soft mounds nipples hard from the air.

“i know some people- well mom she has way bigger ones. mine are so small,” you pout.

“everyone has different things, yours will grow soon, but if they don’t you still look so perfect to me. my precious little girl. isn’t it so nice we get to share this time and be together,” he says, making your tummy heat up at the praise. you nod in response it is so nice to have a dad who’s so open your mom would scold you for even asking.

“now how about some breakfast, kiddo?”

you sit across from each other at the table, his shirt still draped over his chair, yours folded neatly on the island. you told him about how you slept and talked about your dreams. his were always so silly but yours were so normal.

“now, when your mom gets home we will have to put our shirts back on but for now we can just stay like this, okay?” you nod looking to the clock counting the hours until your mom would arrive. right at 4pm on the dot everyday.

“but it’s our secret right? you won’t tell mom i was naked?”

“oh no baby, it’s our secret,” he holds out his hand pinky lifted to you. this was something knew he’d taught you. when it was a secret just you had he called it a pinky promise. your twist your little finger around his and stamp your thumbs together sealing it between you.

the thing that you loved the most about your new dad was how he didn’t tease you if you didn’t know something. when you were a kid the others your age in sunday school would tease you if you didn’t know something or if you asked a question. johnny never made you feel dumb or silly, he just gave you a really smart grown up answer and you appreciated it. he treated you like a grown up girl compared to your mom who acted like you were still a stupid little baby.

the whole first summer you spent taking your shirts off at breakfast like it was a big secret. giggling at each other when you’d see each other bare. leaving your shirts at the table so you could grab them. johnny even set an alarm so you wouldn’t forget.

that summer you spent a lot of time with johnny mainly on the couch or in his office. he was showing you all these movies you had only ever heard about. it was another one of your secrets getting to watch movies your mom didn’t want you to see.

in johnny’s office you’d ask him lots of questions about his work and he’d let you sit on his lap while he sent emails. that was probably your favorite. his warm skin touching yours as you’d lay back against him. sometimes even his nipples would touch your back.

“this is our special father daughter time,” he whispered, rubbing his hands over your legs making your heart swell.

“i love spending time with you, dad,” you grinned, turning your head to see his face.

“you’re such a sweet girl, you know most girls your age are sick of their dads. they’d rather be out partying, but you are so sweet to hang out with me.” he pinched your cheek.

“what? no way! i’d much rather be with you than anyone else. i love you so much,” you grinned, lifting your arms to hug him, squeezing him tight. he loved when you did this, your small perky nipples pushing into his chest completely oblivious to the effect you had on him.

“aww i love you soooo much,” he cooed, relishing the soft skin against his.

between your time with him in the office or on the couch you read. your mother had a set number of words for you each summer and you didn’t mind really, enjoying the fictional worlds you could find yourself in. you used to like it more, before johnny came around. now you just wanted to spend time with him in the real world.

after you finished a few chapters you’d go to the kitchen and get something to drink. after a few weeks of summer you noticed something, the door to the bathroom was slightly opened. you couldn’t help curious eyes peeking in seeing your dad peeing. you’d never seen a boy pee or even their thing. your mom had told you boys have different parts and they use the bathroom differently but you never knew what she meant.

but now it was standing in your face. well your dad was. standing facing the toilet holding his parts as he shot yellow liquid from himself. his head tilted back relaxed as he emptied so much into the bowl.

you watched intently staring at his hand gripping his big thing. you wondered how he hid it in his pants. as his stream slowed he grunted using his hand to stroke himself slowly before he shook the last of the dribbles off of the tip.

as soon as he started putting himself back in his pants you’d scurry off. hoping not to get caught watching him during his private time. you knew johnny probably wouldn’t care he was so kind and open but you still felt like you weren’t supposed to watch him. you held your pinky to yourself making a personal promise to not bother him again.

it didn’t take long for you to see him in the bathroom again. the time he was taking a shower though. and you really didn’t mean to but the water was running and you knew your mother would hate if someone had left it on.

when you walked to the open door you stopped in your tracks. seeing johnny’s bare back and even his boy butt as he rubbed shampoo in his hair. the fresh smell swirling out of the room along with the steam and you couldn’t stop yourself. standing right in the doorway watching his every move through the glass.

you don’t know how long you’d stayed there, but it was long enough to see him rinse the suds from his hair. then he turned lathering his body with soap. you couldn’t help the wandering eyes seeing his boy parts again. he was so pretty and strong and the smell coming from the steamy room was so him. you stayed until he reached for the faucet before scurrying off to your room.

at some point you didn’t care about his private time he was leaving the door open anyways. peeking from behind the door watching him spurt pee into the bowl hard and fast and sometimes it made you have to go. not realizing you’d been holding your pee and now his warm yellow stream tempted you.

you probably watched him at least once a day. it made you curious about your own pee. holding yourself open so you could watch it spray out of you. you weren’t really sure how or where it came out of you, couldn’t really see it.

you had spent some late nights in front of your mirror the moon illuminating your girl parts so you could investigate. constantly looking over your shoulder anytime you heard a sound scared your mom would punish you for looking at yourself. you folded the skin back peeking at your privates looking and poking at the bits. it was really sticky down there so you used tissues to wipe before poking more.

you knew sort of what was going on but you never saw a hole where pee could come out of. so you’d crawl on the bathroom counter squeezing yourself close to the mirror spreading yourself to look. there was a slit there maybe that’s where your pee came from.

during one of your movie mornings a scene made you curious. a boy in the movie leaned against a wall and started making a puddle. your eyes widened surprised by such a private moment on tv. shy you looked over to johnny who watched the screen.

“daddy,” you asked, leaning over the cushions to him.

“what’s up, baby,” he reached for the remote pausing the movie.

“can i ask you a question?”

“well that was a question, do you need one more?” he grinned and you laughed now familiar with his “dad jokes.”

“silly,” you giggled. “you don’t have to answer but- when boys peepee where does it come out?”

“hmm well boy parts are different from girl parts you know, but boys have a hole and it comes out from there.”

“do girls have a hole too?” he nods at you, grinning and pulling you close to him.

“yes girls actually have two holes down there but one is for peepee.”

“why two?”

“well one is for babies to come out of way, way later for you,” he says, brushing your hair behind your ear. it’s quiet for a minute before he breaks the silence. “i know you’ve been peeking at dad while he pees.”

“i- i’m sorry i,” you babble apologies embarrassment filling your tummy and tears pricking your eyes.

“shhh, baby you are okay. dad’s not mad, you're just curious. i just wish you’d ask me so i could show you,” he says, soothing you by rubbing his hand over your arm.

“you aren’t gonna punish me?” you whimper sucking in the tears.

“of course not. you know i’m a cool dad.” he grins at you.

“i just never. i never saw boy parts before, i didn’t know it was so big.” you sniffle.

“do you wanna see dad’s parts? i don’t mind showing my curious girl.”

“can i? just you promise not to tell mom, she’d be so mad at me,” you look away shyly.

“this is our thing remember,” he lifts your chin to meet your eyes. “just a dad and daughter lesson special for us.”

“thanks for not being mad, i promise i won’t peek,” you assure him.

“it’s okay, kiddo. i’ll let you watch if you’re curious.”

“really, can i now?” you get a little giddy bouncing closer to him.

“mmm i think i could go now.” he nods, lifting himself off the couch and helping you up. it’s quiet as you walk down the hall just feet pattering on the floor as he leads the way. the tile is cold and he flips the light switch pulling you to him.

“do you wanna sit here?” he pulls you to the edge of the tub letting you sit, the cold material makes you jump, your boobs bouncing as you look up at him.

“how about you look at my dad parts first, so you won’t have to wonder,” he grins down at you using his thumbs to push his sweats down.

“oh wow, how do you-“ you pause, not forming any words as his big part is right in front of you. you reach a hand but stop yourself embarrassed. he lifts his shirt showing you a patch of dark trimmed hair over a long stick hanging down.

“you can touch it, my baby’s gotta learn,” he grins, ruffling your hair. you reach a timid hand toward him staring at the large shaft. your small hand shakes as you touch him, fingers barely wrapping around him.

“good girl, you’re so brave asking dad questions,” he coos, you stare at the slit where his pee comes from, eyes racking from the plush tip down the larger part lifting it in your hand to see the small seam on the underside.

“it’s really pretty, dad,” you grin, it really is something. your eyes trail farther seeing the two large sacks hanging loosely under him. you’d heard about that before when a boy got kicked in the balls and it hurt.

“thank you, darling,” he lifts a finger pointing to the slit. “this is where boys peepee.” you move your free hand rubbing your small finger over it, face close enough he can feel your breath. “mmm, right there. just between us dad usually calls his parts his cock, but you can call it whatever you want.”

“dad you have such a big cock. so heavy,” you murmur, eyes roving over him. the filthy word coming from your mouth makes blood rush to his heavy member.

“some boys are smaller or bigger. everyone is different just like you and your mom have different girl parts.” you nod at him but it’s hard to imagine any other cock but your dads.

“will you show me,” you bite your lip as you look up at him, feeling his shaft pump in your hand.

“yeah let dad relax a bit,” you let go as he turns facing the toilet. you lean your head over watching as he sighs and a thick stream pours out of the slit. he reaches for your hand letting you hold him as he keeps streaming.

“do you keep it all in there,” you ask, holding his balls in your hand making him grunt.

“no baby, that's where dad keeps his special stuff,” he coos, slowing his stream. you mimic his movements shaking his cock letting the drips fall into the water.

“do i have special stuff?” you let go of him softly letting his parts rest.

“yes you do, just in different places,” he grins.

“dad i kinda,” you squirm still looking at him.

“do you need to peepee too?” you nod at him.

“just when you went it made me need to,” you twist your legs together bouncing a knee.

“i can go, baby,” but you grab his arm before he can move.

“no, i wanna show you how i pee.”

“aren’t you sweet, dad can help you with your parts too,” he grins, helping you up as you squirm with need.

“unhh,” you moan gripping over your privates as you try to hold it.

“aww did you wait too long, baby, ‘s okay,” he coos.

“just, i can,” you pout, squeezing yourself before you slowly peel your panties down shifting awkwardly.

“doing so good, you’re so strong,” the praise melted into your skin like hot wax. you slide your butt onto the cold seat lifting your skirt and peeking at your cunt.

“let dad see,” he squatted in front of you leaning in and spreading your legs as you squeezed every muscle to keep your pee in.

“such pretty girl parts,” he smiled up at you.

“really? mom says they’re icky that’s why we have to wax them,” you nod, looking at your parts a chubby hairless mound with a long slit down the middle.

“mom is so silly.” he huffed a laugh, pushing your legs wider. “such a soft, pretty girl. can you show dad?”

“it gets really sticky lately, but i promise i clean it a lot,” you babble.

“that’s your special stuff just like dad has. sticky is normal, it’s okay you can keep it a little sticky. it’s healthy,” he stares as you pull your sticky lips apart. getting the perfect view of your swollen bud and the tightest little hole. he loves how aroused you are just from watching him piss holding his cock in your hand has you all wet for him.

“oh so it’s not icky?” he shakes his head leaning closer to you inspecting your most private parts.

“when you’re this pretty you know what we call girl parts?” he paused as you shook your head looking to him for reassurance. “i like to call it a cunny, and you have the most beautiful cunny dad has ever seen.”

“really,” you feel so giddy with excitement. it makes a small dribble of piss spill from you.

“does that make you excited,” he grinned at you holding your thighs open as the small trickle spilled. “when dad compliments your pretty cunny?”

“unhuh, i just like that dad likes me,” you mumble.

“you’re so cute, of course dad likes you. dad loves you and your cunny,” he grins, his large hand soothing over your knee.

“i love you dad. thanks for teaching me.”

“that’s what dads are for. now you see that little nub,” he asks pointing to the swollen raised bud on your cunny. you nod looking between your legs pulling the mound back to expose the swollen bud.

“that’s your clitty and right under there is a tiny hole for special girl pee,” you nod but you can’t see much below the swollen bump. “when you don’t have to go so bad dad can show you in the mirror all your parts.”

“yeah, i’d like that,” you grin, squirming again.

“go ahead and go you’ve been doing so good for your dad,” he coos, massaging his hand over your thigh. you relax into his touch whimpering as you let your pee go. hot splashing into the water already filled with your dad’s pee. you felt sort of warm and heavy at the thought of your pee mixing with his like it was special.

“let it all out, such a good girl for your dad,” you look down at him staring into his eyes as you empty all you were holding, craving more of his touch but you’re always too shy to ask.

that was the first time you showed your dad your cunny.

now almost every morning your dad would pull you into the bathroom letting you hold his dad cock. you’d hold him helping aim his yellow stream into the bowl before it was your turn. you hurry and tug your shorts down spreading your legs for your dad showing him your cunny over and over.

he even helped you see the tiny hole where your pee came out. held a mirror in front of you so you could see it. he was really the best. you still peeked at him when he was in the shower you couldn’t help it. you wondered if he watched you too while you left the door open.

most of the time he peed first but mornings like this where you really had to go he’d let you sit first.

“oh, baby, i don’t know if i can wait, can dad go with you?” he stood in front of you and you looked up at him nodding.

“how are you gonna do that?” you giggled.

“spread your legs for dad,” you did as he said, pushing your thighs back as his cock was in your face. he held it letting the hot stream aim right in front of your cunny.

you loved hearing the moan he let out when he really had to go. watching his pee hole right from the front was even better, his pee hitting the stream you were letting out. you reached up to hold his cock helping him aim as he shut his eyes releasing all he’d been saving up.

your stream was slowing but his seemed to keep going, spilling out and even hitting your thighs. you kind of liked it, warm drops of your dad’s pee on your legs. it made you feel so warm and close to him.

“such a good girl,” he pets your hair as you stare at his yellow pee starting to slow down.

“you have so much pee, dad,” you giggled, accidentally moving your hand making his pee hit your cunny.

“unhhh.” you whined, the sensation felt so good. so you aimed what was left letting it hit your cunny right in the center making you whine.

“mmm, thanks for helping?” you nodded as he dribbled the last of his pee between your thighs. he didn’t mention the way you had used his pee to feel tingly on your cunny.

you started doing that more often. your dad standing in front of you letting you aim his pee onto your cunny. he definitely saw you doing it, saw you spreading yourself and pointing his stream right on you. saw you rutting your hips and biting your lips.

you really felt so special having a dad like him. no one had ever paid so much attention to you and your needs but your dad sure did. he even helped you pick out your clothes for church on sunday. helping you go through your closet and finding the perfect pretty dress.

“you know, little bit, i think it might be time we get you a big girl bra,” he turned facing you as you sat on your floor rummaging through your dresser.

“really? i always wanted one, but mom says i have to keep them flat so they don’t distract,” you pout, shutting the drawer.

“well you’re a growing girl. your pretty tits are swelling now, we need to get you something to hold them.” he assures, squatting beside you nodding to your bare chest.

“but mom won’t let me,” you stare at your chest nipples puffy.

“it can be our thing. dad can take you and we can get you fit for one maybe even get you some pretty matching panties,” he grins, rubbing his large hand over your calf.

“oh really! dad you’re the best,” you squeal bouncing and hugging him close. you pull him off balance making him fall on top of you his hard chest pushing into yours.

“silly girl,” he grins, holding his hand on your cheek. you stay like that for a moment just staring at his pretty eyes and the shadow of stubble over his lips.

“dad can you kiss me? like you do mom?” you don’t even think before you ask, you’d stop doing that with him a while ago.

“aww you want a kiss? i know you get jealous when dad kisses mom in the morning,” he teases, lowering himself over you.

“i just wanna be dad’s favorite,” you pout puffing your lips up.

“you are dad’s favorite, just don’t tell mom,” he grins.

“our secret?” you hold your pinky up and he takes it.

“our secret,” he confirms linking his pinky with yours.

“i’m ready,” you push your lips out and shut your eyes. he can’t get enough of how precious you are. holding your pinky as he leans in and pecks your lips before pulling away.

“daddddd,” you groan, kicking your feet under him. “you use your tongue with mom.”

“even jealous of that? when we have some time dad will use his tongue, but your mom’s almost home we need to get ready,” his answer makes you pout craving his tongue.

“i wish she never came home. i like being with you.”

“i know, baby,” he coos, brushing your hair.

“can we pee before she comes home? i have a lot and your big dad cock is pushing on my tummy,” you squirm under him.

“mmm i think we have time.” he grins, standing up and helping you to the bathroom. he can’t help the blood pumping into his member, hearing you say things like that so casually.

before your mom got home dad promised to take you shopping tomorrow for a big grown up girl bra. you couldn’t sleep, you were so excited to go out. mom would be so mad if dad hadn’t asked her nicely.

but johnny didn’t ask mom.

that morning you felt so excited, giddy, and grinning and not sleeping in despite staying up late into the night thinking of your outing. you practically bounced into the kitchen grinning when you saw your dad.

“need me to help you get ready?” he smiled when he saw you still in your pjs.

“i’m so excited i couldn’t even sleep,” you bounced on your feet almost jumping over to him like a bunny.

“you’re so cute! been thinking about what you wanna get? maybe a color you want?” he smooths your messy hair.

“mmm i can’t decide i think pink would be so pretty but red is nice and mom always had those pretty black ones with lace.” you ramble on about all of your bra ideas.

“we can get whatever you want,” he confirms, tapping your nose.

“you’re the best dad ever.”

you felt so sneaky getting into johnny’s car riding in the passenger seat like a grown up. your mom always made you ride in the backseat saying it was safer, but now you were up front beside your dad and going out on a day you wouldn’t normally wouldn’t. you wondered what was so different on wednesday’s compared to saturday and sunday.

the weather was so sunny as you stared out the window looking at all the people walking or biking, even seeing some dogs. everything was so beautiful outside you didn’t understand why your mom didn’t like you going out.

you drove down roads you didn’t recognize taking in all the new scenery. you came to huge building bigger than any you had scene before and the parking lot was just as massive.

“wow,” you looked at the rows of cars in awe.

“now there’s gonna be a lot of people, okay? this is a mall and lots of people come to shop and hang out,” he tells you. you nod, taking in the expansive space.

“are there more stores? is it just one big store?” you questioned unbuckling your seatbelt and jumping out.

“lots of different stores, they have clothing shops, food, toys, all different stuff,” he smiles, he holds a hand out and you take it. “you don’t mind holding your dad’s hand, i don't want you getting lost.”

“i loveeee holding your hand,” you squeeze his large palm skipping down the parking lot towards the building.

the place is massive, with elevators and even moving stairs going up and down with loads of people. you feel like you’re in a movie and you’re the main character. there’s shops beside shops and rows of stores as you walk in. your dad leads the way keeping your hand in his.

“it’s so huge,” you mumble, taking everything in letting your head turn back and forth as you gawk.

“is it too much?” he stops beside you, making you look at him and you shake your head.

“i love it. i wanna live here,” you grin, tugging his hand to get him walking again. he just smiles, squeezing your hand and leading you again. you pass so many people and you smile at everyone, grinning when you see a chubby-faced baby or a dog in a vest. before long you get turned and dragged into a store almost tripping over your feet since you aren’t paying attention.

“hi welcome in,” a store worker says. you smile and wave looking around the room at all the neutral walls covered in racks with bright colored bras and panties. “do you need any help today?”

“we do actually, she’s wanting to get a fitting, but is it okay if we look around first?” johnny leads the conversation as you rake your eyes over the merchandise taking in all the patterns.

“of course, i will get my things together, you can come find me when you’re ready.” she smiles, directing her hand to the large showroom that you’re already immersed in.

“it’s amazing,” you coo, pulling johnny’s arm to the first rack you see.

“now don’t pick too much, let's start with three you like,” he instructs and you nod your head using your free hand to comb through the displays.

“wow, they even have sparkly ones,” you grin, holding up a sparkly padded bra.

“how cute,” he nods, helping you sort through. you meander through the different displays so many racks of so many different things. there’s small bras and different shapes, even strapless. there were bras attached to dresses and even one piece with panties. you and so many questions like how did you pee in that, or how does the bra stay with no straps, and did you wear the bra dresses as a dress.

“ok i like these two the most,” you grin, holding up two bras, one soft pink with floral swirling lace and the other a teal with lace and a bow.

“those are such good choices. what about the third one?”

“will you pick one i want one you like,” you bite your lip.

“aren’t you sweet, hmmm,” he says, glancing over the racks before pulling you to the one he’s set on. “this one would look beautiful.”

“wow, it’s so pretty,” you stare at the soft white bra, it was mesh with small lace details and you think you’re in love. “you think?” you ask him, holding up the small hanger to your chest.

“mmm, yep that’s the one,” he wants to moan in the middle of the store, his pretty girl posing in front of him, his cock starting to fill up.

“find anything you like?” the worker walks up again and you nod holding the three choices in your hands. “perfect, if you will follow me we can start the fitting.”

she leads the way and johnny lets you follow but stays close behind you with a comforting hand on your waist. she walks to the back to the store, opening a large curtain with other curtains along the walls, most of them opened.

“okay we will be in here,” she motions to the room and you enter. “have you ever had a fitting done?” you shake your head suddenly shy.

“can he stay with me?” you ask biting your lip and throwing a thumb over your shoulder to johnny.

“of course! since it’s your first fitting it’s good to have someone you trust,” she smiles politely motioning for you and johnny to go in. “if you want to get changed there is a robe right here and just let me know when you’re ready.

“thank you,” johnny smiles and you nod. she walks backwards, shutting the curtain behind her. you turn to johnny quickly pushing your head into his chest face heating up.

“shh, don’t be nervous, little one. you know how we take our clothes off,” he pauses and you lift your head nodding to him. “just like that okay, and she’s very nice. gonna use her measuring tape so it will fit perfect,” he soothes your anxiety by rubbing small circles with his big hands over your back.

“will you help me?” you grip his shirt pulling him somehow closer smelling his cologne to calm yours.

“mhmm, can you lift your arms?” you pull away lifting your hands over your head as his hand glide under the hem softly touching your skin before lifting the fabric and pulling it over your head. he had told you not to wear your training bra since you could get one here so you were bare. nipple hard in the cool store air poking out embarrassingly. your chest had started growing some more over summer slightly bulging out of your tiny bra.

“good girl,” he coos, tossing the fabric on the chair in the corner before turning back to you. “let dad get your shoes.” he kneels in front of you untying your white sneakers, letting you hold onto his large shoulder as you step out.

“you sneaky girl,” he grins up at you peeking under your skirt seeing your bare cunny. you grin back pushing your hands over your front trying to hide.

“just thought you said no bra so maybe none of these too?” you wiggle your hips in front of him. his large hands cover your thighs as he spreads your legs using his fingers he opens your cunny to him.

“hnnn,” you jerk as the cool air from the room hits your privates not aware that it’s your dad blowing a stream of air onto you.

“getting so excited aren’t you?” he teases, hands roaming higher before finding the zipper of your skirt easily. he slides it slowly and lets the fabric fall to the floor and pool at your feet.

“step back,” he instructs and you do, moving over so he can lift the skirt and toss it with your shirt. then he stands back in front of you grabbing your arms and turning you to the mirror.

“see how pretty you are, dad’s little beauty,” he whispers in your ear, making you shiver, his hands massaging your tummy. he turns to grab the robe hanging on the wall and helps you into it, tying it neatly over you.

“ready?” you nod your head the nerves in your tummy have calmed significantly. he leans his head out of the curtain summoning the lady back to the room.

“are you ready?” you nod to her facing her as she walks to you johnny takes a seat on the chair folding your clothes neatly beside him.

“okay, first let’s just loosen your tie just a bit and slip your arms out so you are still covered down there,” she helps you loosen the knot and slide your arms out of the silky sleeve exposing your small chest.

“now i’m going to use this to help measure you in five different places,” she smiles at you through the mirror.

“okay,” you agree, letting her lift your arms as she loops the yellow ribbon around you once, twice, and three times before writing in a small notebook.

“now we do the shoulders,” you nod, peeking over at your dad through the mirror and he’s already smiling back watching as her hand slides the tape over your skin. she pauses and right more in her notebook. “let’s get that back on.” she comments, helping you put your arms back into the robe.

“that’s it?”

“yep, easy peasy,” she grins. “i’ll go grab these in your size and be right back.” she smiles as she leaves, grabbing the three bras on the hook by the door.

“not so bad?” johnny says and you turn to him, cheesing at him as if you’ve just won first place.

“i thought she was gonna use like a big machine or something,” you say, standing in front of your dad.

“you were so brave,” he says looking up at you. “such a good girl.”

“thanks for helping me not be nervous,” you reach for his face touching his stubbly cheek with your small hand soothing him the way he does you.

“you know i love helping you, but you did it all yourself my brave little girl,” he coos, leaning into your hand. you hear a knock on the wall and pull away before the worker enters.

“so i have these in your size,” she hangs the bras on the hook. “i also grabbed these in your size but different styles so you can see what you like.” she smiles sweetly and you look at the new bras she brought in dark plums and emeralds. “i got the matching panties for you. if you need any help let me know.”

“want help?” he grins up at you as she leaves and you nod, pulling his hand to stand him up. he reaches to pull the tie of your robe, helping you out of it and laying it over the chair he had been sitting in.

“so pretty,” he mumbles, eyes grazing your body, making you shy.

“daddd,” you giggled pushing at his hard chest. he grabbed your hand and then the other pulling them away from your body so he could look you over.

“which do you wanna try first?” he asked, pulling you to the hooks on the way filled with bras. you pointed at the pretty pink one you had picked out.

“good choice.” he smirks, letting go of your hands and taking the bra from the hanger. he turns you around, moving you in front of the mirror while he looms behind you. he’s so much bigger than you, taller and wider as he lingers behind you.

he unclasps the bra and reaches around you holding the cups over your small breasts as you slide your arms through the straps. you can feel him breathing on your neck as his hands pull the clasps together and snap them closed. he uses a finger to lift the straps straightening them over your shoulders before his hands lower sliding over the skin of your tummy just about your cunny.

“mmm i like this one,” he coos, letting his chin rest on your shoulder.

“the color is so pretty,” you smile softly, watching him in the mirror more than yourself.

“does everything feel okay? no poking or too tight?” he smoothed his hands in small circles over your hips.

“nuhuh, feels okay,” you mumble distractedly.

“let dad feel okay?” you nod as he slips his hands higher softly passing your rib cage and cupping your small breasts over the fabric.

“unh,” you whimper as his large hands engulf you massaging your skin.

“feel good?” you nod stupidly, biting your lip and leaning into his touch. “fits you so good, kiddo. cute little tits sitting all perfect.” he compliments using his fingers to dance over the fabric covering your now hard nipples making you buck at the touch. he grins, lowering his hands back to your hips.

“more touch me more, dad,” you murmur, holding a hand over your own breast.

“mmm, feels really good huh?” you nod as he lifts his left hand again keeping his other hand on your hip as he touches you. you try to copy his movements but your small hand is nothing compared to his. “pretty girl, so glad you’re my daughter.” you whimper again trying to hide your face in his as he gropes you.

“makes me so,” you huff, his other hand now cupping yours helping you move over your breast.

“tell dad how it makes you feel.”

“tingly,” you puff, breathing harder as he grins at you watching you squirm in the mirror, hips jerking at every touch.

“where, baby?”

“my,” you pause letting his fingers push and circle your nipples poking through the fabric. “cunny.”

“mmm yeah? makes dad’s cock feel tingly too,” he says rubbing his hardening bulge against your small butt.

“unhhh, really?” you blink up at him, lips wet from spit that’s started spilling out.

“mhmm, i know it feels good baby, but we gotta try on these bras okay?” you pout at him wanting to stomp your feet like a brat. “how about dad makes a little deal with you?”

“what kind?” you ask, his grip loosening but still massaging you.

“if you be really, really good and try on all these pretty bras, dad will get you a few, then we can go to any stores you want,” he pauses and you nod as he continues. “then when we get home dad can touch you some more?”

“please,” you whine, pleading eyes looking up at him.

“mmm, now be a good girl okay,” you nod. he pulls his hands away much to your dismay but you think of the delicious reward that will await.

he takes his time helping you try on all the bras and letting you pick your favorites. you end up leaving with five bras and matching panties. you can’t help the grin that fills your face as you hold his hand the large bag in the other filled with goodies for you.

he lets you pick out some shops to explore and spoils you rotten. getting you new outfits that are mainly for his enjoyment, skimpy pajamas, tiny skirts, and a new church dress. he let you browse some stores and get new hair clips and some new stuffed animals for your bed.

you picked out a bear saying it looked just like your dad saying you’d hold it close every night. it makes his cock twitch, seeing his pretty girl sleeping with her legs wrapped around a big bear like her dad.

he even takes you to get a slushie full of sugar and something he called a pretzel but was way too big and soft to be a pretzel. but the cinnamon sugar and icing made it the best thing you’d ever had. your mom didn’t let you have sugar, caffeine, or dyes so this was like a sneaky birthday party.

you held his big hand as you skipped down the parking lot back to his car, giggling as you watched him try to skip beside you holding all the bags in one hand. you stand beside him as he loads all the items in the trunk when it hits you the sudden urge to pee making you squeeze your legs together.

“you okay?” he looks at you with concern on his face as he slams the trunk.

“pee, gotta,” you whine, cupping yourself as you jump.

“aww baby, did you get so excited you forgot?” he coos, holding your face as you pout to him nodding.

“sorry, dad,” you blubber, bouncing your legs making your skirt flash your butt to whoever was walking by.

“it’s okay, shhh,” he soothes, pulling you to him for a hug. he smirks over your head the idea of what he can get you to do. “hmm let’s see.”

“i dunno if i can hold it,” you whimper, squeezing a hand over your cunny.

“c’mere,” he pulls you between his car and the one beside it looking around to see who was walking by. “squat for me.”

“can’t ’s gonna,” you want to listen but the push on your bladder will make you spill.

“it’s okay baby, dad will keep watch, you can’t help it.” he holds your hand rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “go ahead, little one.”

you listen to him moaning as you bend your knees, the push on your bladder growing. you try to keep it in but a small gush comes out soaking your hand through your skirt as it hisses out onto the pavement.

“it’s okay,” he coos standing over you watching you slowly lower yourself lifting your damp skirt with your hand. you squeeze his palm before the stream pushes out of you hot piss arching from your cunny soaking your lips as it sprays out.

“good girl, spread your cunny so you don’t get wet,” he grins, he feels sick in the head. his cock hardening as people pass looking at you spreading your virgin cunt spraying piss over your own shoes and your dads.

you moan letting your head fall back as your stream continues, hot yellow liquid puddling all over the pavement and even if you wanted to stop you can’t it feels too good. you don’t notice the people walking by grinning at your accident.

“you had to go huh?” he pets over your head watching the piss start to trickle down the pavement flowing like a river. you nod stupidly overtaken by the pleasure of your full bladder emptying under you. your pretty white shoes yellow as you douse them with the flow. as you slow you open your eyes looking up at your dad who’s already staring back a small sweet smile on his face.

“oh no,” you whine, spurting out the last of the pee with a jerk of your hips. the mess is huge, a large pool under you and on your shoes dripped down the pavement and under the next car.

“you’re okay, baby,” he coos, helping you up. your dripping cunny is slippery under your fingers

“i’m dirty, dad,” you pout, showing him the drips hanging on to your mound and slit.

“i’ll help you,” he says, opening the door behind you, sitting you on the edge of the seat. he squats down in front of you spreading your thighs as you lift your soaked skirt showing him the golden droplets.

“dad’s gonna use his tongue to clean you up, okay, kiddo?” he says, leaning his face closer to you.

“ ‘s too dirty,” you whine, but he comes closer, opening his mouth and sliding his tongue over your cunny.

“oh, dad,” you gasp, melting back into the hot leather seat. his tongue dips into you sliding over the folds over your cunny collecting every drop and then some. he spreads your lips pushing his tongue into your sticky slit gliding it up and down swirling it over your pee hole and your clitty.

you moan out too naive to know what you’re feeling. johnny savors it the first mouth to ever touch your cunt and it’s your sweet dad’s. hips bucking chasing the foreign feeling you don’t fully understand just know it feels so good.

“dad, dad,” you mumble, jerking your hips into his face. he’s grinning between your thighs trying to close around him, slipping his tongue deeper not letting you escape. your taste is addictive bitter piss mixing with your sweet, sweet virgin juices making him dizzy.

he couldn’t stop diving into you like a cold pool on a hot day. his tongue slurping at your fluttering hole before finding your clitty and sucking it between his lips. your breathing growing ragged and uneven as you fall closer to some peak.

“so, oh my, dad,” you aren’t coming up with the right words leaning back against the center console as he slurps you up. your slick practically pouring from your hole drowning his tongue as he drinks you. the pleasure building in your tummy makes you whine and squirm craving pleasure but it’s almost overwhelming.

“gonna pee, dad, can’t,” you mewl, far too innocent to know this is an orgasm. squeezing your eyes as you jerk under him, gripping at the seat. his hot tongue flicking over your clitty as your legs shake muscles spasming as you squirt the last of your pee into his mouth.

he grins drinking you up the thought of your first orgasm in a parking lot on your dad’s tongue such an icky girl he has. his mind races and fills his cock with the ways he wants to ruin you. too naive to know you’ve just cum on your dad’s tongue in front of passersby.

he doesn’t stop lapping up the gushes of cum and piss from your cunny slurping it up like you were earlier with your slushy. your legs are vibrating around his head as he cleans the last of your juices before pulling away.

he watches you catching your breath, licking his lips tasting all of you. your cunny is slimy and swollen, still dripping from your slit, clit twitching as you come down. there’s another puddle under his car now from the juices you couldn’t help but drip, it’s a shame he didn’t get to savor them.

“you okay?” he whispers, rubbing his hand over your knee. you nod stupidly, your hair ruffling against the seat.

“so, oh wow, dad,” you mumble, lifting your lazy head looking down at him. “i felt so weird and so good.”

“mmm, you did good for dad, now you’re all clean,” he grins at you cum and piss glistening on his chin.

“sorry for making a mess,” you mumble looking away as you try to sit up. your whole body feels like jelly.

“no baby, dad likes when you make messes. you know i like cleaning up, and what better than to clean up my girl,” he grins, standing up and ruffling your hair helping you sit in the car before buckling your seatbelt. you fall asleep before he even starts the car overwhelmed and satisfied with your day cunny still dripping on the leather seat. as he drives off he looks back at the puddle you made wishing he got a picture so he could start that father daughter scrapbook.

you couldn’t help but crave the same feeling your dad had given you when he cleaned you up. every time you peed you wondered why it didn’t feel the same when you cleaned yourself up. you wanted his tongue to slurp over your cunny and get all the pee out of you.

you were sitting at the kitchen table just finished breakfast and squirming with the need to pee. you were being patient waiting for your dad to finish putting the dishes in the dishwasher. you were bouncing in your chair pushing your heel into your cunny to keep your pee in. the running water coming from behind you made it worse, thoughts of emptying yourself making you push your cunny harder.

“gotta go?” you turn your head seeing dad watching your squirming and you nod.

“think i had too much juice,” you pout, pushing yourself against your heel.

“how about we get all that pee out?” he turns the water off and dries his hands walking over to you.

“it’s so hard, dad, pushing on my cunny,” you wiggle, as he steps in front of you.

“you think you can make it?” he puts a hand on the back of your chair.

“dunno, i can try,” you whimper.

“c’mere,” he coos, wrapping an arm around your waist lifting your arms to wrap around him. he lifts you with one hand using the other to cup your cunny, helping keep the pee in. “so full your little tummy is swelling.”

“unhuh,” you mumble peeking at the bulge in your belly rubbing a hand over your taut skin. “kinda like how it feels dad. makes my cunny tingle when it’s all full.”

“mmm, yeah? dad likes it too makes his cock tingle,” he coos, rubbing his hand over your cunny keeping pressure on you as he walks down the hall towards the bathroom.

“really, so it’s not weird?” you ask, looking at his face, his fluffy hair bouncing with each step.

“nope, it’s good to feel good, and cunny tingles are really good,” he grins at you but walks past the bathroom.

“dad,” you ask, turning to see the door pass you by.

“going to mom and dad’s room. gonna be hard for you to get your panties off so i can help you in the tub,” he says casually and you nod your head, tummy sloshing. his warm hand feels so good on your cunny, rubbing softly and keeping the pressure as your bladder begs for release.

“so cunny tingles are normal and good?”

“so good baby, you know when dad helped clean you up?” you nod squeezing your legs at the memory. “made your cunny feel good right?”

“so good, would you clean me up again?” you ask shyly, leaning your head into his neck.

“of course baby,” he smiles, pushing open his bedroom door. the pictures on the wall of him and your mom getting married. she looked so pretty and your dad so handsome. he walked to the bathroom keeping his hand on your cunny as he let you down the gravity causing all the pee to push more making your bounce.

“let’s sit here,” he says, helping you to the tub and lifting you into it easily.

“can we pee in the bathtub? mom always said that was icky,” you say nervously.

“for dad and daughter time we can,” he grins, stepping into the large tub with you. his warm hand rubs against your cunny shorts damn but you don’t notice. “can you stand here.”

you follow his lead standing near the side of the tub. he squats in front of you using one hand to slide your shorts and panties down before sliding the other side. your cunny stays covered as he pulls the sides as low as they will go. then he slips his bare hand over your bare cunny holding you letting his finger push between your slick slit.

he grins to himself curling his finger slightly to feel your hole. letting your shorts fall to the tub before picking them up and tossing them out.

“are you gonna pee too?” you ask, staring down at his every move.

“of course, wouldn’t let you do it all alone,” he coos, standing up again his finger sliding through your virgin folds. “sit here baby.” he helps you sit down on the edge of the tub as one of his hands slides down his sweats letting his cock bob out fuller and heavier than you’ve seen.

“dad your cock is all bouncy,” you giggle, squeezing your legs around his hand.

“that’s cause dad’s cock getting tingly too,” he grins to you using one foot he kicks the sweats out of the tub. he stands bare in front of you, his heavy dad cock swaying as he moves the tip darker than you’ve seen it.

“dad you gotta go bad, you’re leaking,” you comment, noticing a dribble of what you guess is pee already sneaking out.

“happens when dad feels really tingly, like when your cunny gets sticky,” he grins, sliding his finger through the slick.

“wanna go,” you mumble the need overwhelming you suddenly.

“mmm, let it out baby,” he says, pulling sticky fingers from you staring as you spread your legs. it takes no time for a hot arch to spurt out of you making you moan in pleasure. tingling cunny mixing with the relief of peeing feels so good.

“good girl, get all that pee out for dad,” he coos, sticking his finger into his mouth tasting your juices. he’s been thinking about your taste for a week. dreaming about his teen daughter’s virgin cunt in his mouth, jerking off with thoughts of you and your little accident.

you use your fingers to spread your cunny pushing your pee out as you lift your knees showing off your stream. your head leaned back as you let go giving your dad a chance to lean in letting your stream hit his mouth. he moans at the taste as he pulls away hot yellow dripping down his chin as he savors you, keeping the liquid on his tongue.

“so good for dad, must have been so full,” he mewls, rubbing a hand over your inner thigh as he swallows. he leans closer letting your stream hit his chest and trickle down his filling cock. god he wants to jerk off right now get his cock covered in your piss and use it as lube. if only you knew how twisted your dad was.

“so full,” you pant, opening your eyes to meet your dads. his sweet soft face watching your cunny push out your pee as it splatters into the tub a large yellow puddle forming and flowing to the drain.

“so pretty baby, you pee so pretty for me,” he grins at you rubbing a thumb closer and closer to your center. your stream slows hissing quieting as you dribble the last bits letting it slide down your cunny and drip below you.

“felt so good,” you whimper.

“i know baby, dad’s gonna make you feel even better when he cleans you up,” he leans in, letting his knees hit the puddle you made but he doesn’t even care.

“thanks, dad,” you mumble, excitement bubbling in your tummy as his face comes closer, his breath hitting your dripping cunny. he uses his large hands to hold your thighs as he laps up your drips. you whine his hot tongue sliding over your cunny making you feel hot all over.

“mmmm, dad,” you call out, fingers gripping your knees as he grins into your cunt. his tongue fast and sloppy as he collects every golden drop savoring it on his tongue, your taste so addictive. slick and piss mixing in his mouth as he swirls over your hole licking up your pee hole to your clitty.

you can’t help but start panting, tongue falling from your mouth stupidly as he devours you. sloppy mouth slurping at you as he sucks your clitty into his mouth. you squeal, kicking your feet against his back at the pleasure, your eyes filling with overwhelmed tears.

part of you wants him to stop or slow down because it’s so much but another part of you wants more. that part wins. bucking hips into his face awkwardly craving more. he loves how stupid you get trying to grind against him begging for more as he sucks you in using his tongue perfectly.

“dad, more, more is coming out,” you whimper, slobbering on your chin as your legs start to shake. your tummy tightens until it lets go spraying into his mouth as you cum. legs shaking around him whining and moaning unable to control yourself. he drinks you up again letting his tongue linger on your gushing cunny flicking as he collects every drop.

he can’t help himself, he’s obsessed with the way you sound, your overwhelmed reaction to what you don’t know is an orgasm. he slows his flicks, lazily sliding his tongue up and down through your folds. your taste is addictive. he pulls away as you calm down lips and chin sticky watching your hips jerk in his hold.

“did so good for dad,” he praises, rubbing his hands over your skin.

“dad you clean me really good, get all the pee out,” you babble, looking at him with dazed eyes. “does it taste funny?”

“no baby, you taste so good. i think dads are made to like the taste of their daughters,” he tells you casually and you nod. “wanna taste?”

“i tasted my pee before, it’s kinda sour,” you admit, he’s sort of taken aback but the thought of your shy fingers collecting your piss to taste makes his cock bounce higher.

“gimme your fingers,” he says, holding his hand out and you give him what he wants. he uses your small fingers to rub over your slit collecting the last of your cum on your fingers.

“sensitive,” you whimper, eyes trained on where your fingers touch your cunny. he grins as he pulls your sticky fingers away, turning your hand and pushing it to your face. you open your mouth almost on command letting your fingers slide on your tongue. you don’t taste the same bitterness, it’s sweet and sticky like syrup.

“see, you taste so good,” he grins, and you nod, collecting all of the taste on your tongue.

“can i clean your cock when you pee?” he feels his heart race the thought of you using your tongue something he’s been dreaming of.

“wanna try?” you nod quickly letting your feet down, toes touching your puddle. his cock is even harder now bouncing bigger between his legs.

“yeah, i bet it tastes good too,” you smile.

“mmm, yeah daughters usually like how their dads taste too,” he grins standing up in front of you, his knees dripping from your pee as you lean forward.

“so big dad must feel really tingly?” you say, reaching to hold his standing cock.

“so tingly, especially when my pretty girl feels good,” he pets your sweet face as you look up at him, his cock still growing, your fingers not wrapping around him fully.

“dad why when i clean my cunny it doesn’t feel as good?” you ask.

“that’s cause dad’s doing it. feels so good when dad’s help their girls. it’s called cumming, dad made you cum,” he tells you and you nod stupidly.

“come where?”

“silly, when your cunny feels really good and you feel like you’re gonna pee it’s called cum.” he confirms, god you were so innocent.

“can i make dad cum?” you were really gonna kill him. his cock twitches at your words, more precum leaking from his tip.

“do you want to?” you nod eagerly, hand sliding over his shaft.

“such a sweet girl. let dad get his pee out first,” he pushes your hair back and you nod leaning closer to his cock.

“let it out dad, it feels so good,” you say, he groans above you pushing a small spurt of his out of his slit. it shoots up, your eyes wide following the high stream making you smile. “wow.”

“when dad gets hard and tingly it’s hard to aim,” he chuckles. you use your hand to angle his cock not pushing too far but it stands slit pointed to your tits.

“it’s ok dad, i got my pee on you,” you smile sweetly, coaxing him to let go again. he can’t help himself, thrusting his hips into your hand pushing his piss straight out letting it hit your chest. it splatters and you giggle hot liquid hitting you and dribbling down your tummy.

“do more, dad,” you beg, and he obliges, thrusting his hips into your hand forcing his pee onto you. your wide curious eyes watching the yellow liquid hit you. he bites his lip trying to keep himself from fully fucking your little hand.

“mmm, doing so good helping dad, you look so pretty with my pee on you,” he coos, you feel shy turning your eyes from his to focus on his spurting cock. “fuckkk.” he groans, thrusting into your hand.

“dadddd, language,” you grin.

“can’t help it feels so good,” he moans, his hand rubs down his chest and stomach, his fingers splitting holding the base of his cock.

“is it okay to say bad words when your cock feels good?”

“yeah, but just between us two. when your cunny feels good you can say it,” he hisses, his still thrusting slowly but his pee has mostly stopped gushing he’s too hard to go.

“are you all done?” you coo and he nods at you. “can i make you cum now, dad.”

“yeah baby, just use your tongue to clean dad up,” he says, you nod nervously eyes wide as you bring your face closer. you take an experimental lick over the slit collecting the drops of pee and something sticky. it tastes bitter but in a good way so you flick your tongue again.

“mmm, just like that baby, doing so good,” he moaned, watching your small mouth open using your tongue to swirl around his tip. he knows he’s gonna cum too fast, his fantasy coming to life right in front of him. his precious daughter tasting him using her mouth to make him cum.

you swirl your tongue like you would on a popsicle and that seems to make your dad really feel good. he groans above you watching as you do your best to clean him up. there’s more sticky stuff in your mouth and you like it so much and you can’t stop breathing in the musky smell from his cock.

“try using your mouth to suck the tip,” he directs, and you listen, opening your mouth and forcing his big cock inside, wrapping your small lips around the tip, sucking him like a straw. “unhuh, just like that, cleaning dad so good.”

you move your head back and forth taking as much of his tip into your mouth as you can, softly stroking the base of his cock. you’re so eager to hear more praise from his mouth so you speed up thinking that will work and it does. he calls out for you moaning your name and it makes your cunny tingle again but not with the need to pee.

“oh, baby, dad’s gonna cum,” he moans, stomach tightening as his release builds. “pull back, baby.”

it’s the first time you don’t listen to him craving more of his taste and working hard already. you want to make him cum making him feel like he makes you feel. so you keep your lips latching onto his tip as he tries to pull away. the pleasure fills him as he thrusts into your mouth making you choke hot liquid filling your mouth.

you pull back coughing and choking, spitting white onto his cock as more spills out. you watch in awe as white pee shoots from his slit hitting your mouth and chest. the taste is salty on your tongue as you catch your breath.

“didn’t listen to dad,” he groans, slowing his thrusts as the liquid slowly dribbles down his tip.

“just wanted to make you feel good,” you feel embarrassed and bad. your tummy filling with guilt for not listening to him.

“aww baby, is okay, just didn’t want to scare you,” he coos, petting over your head. you look back up at him, eyes watery and mouth dripping spit and cum and it makes a perfect image in his filthy head. innocent daughter, with her dad’s cum on her lips and chin such a filthy sight.

“sorry, dad,” you whimper.

“no baby, you did so good look at how much you made dad cum,” he grins. you see all the white puddling on the floor mixing with the pee and it makes you happy. his cock softening in your hand but you keep it wrapped in your fingers. “felt so good for dad. got all my cum out,” he says.

“is that the white pee?” you ask innocently, sliding your fingers on your lips and licking them.

“mhmm, that’s dad’s cum. boy cum is white and thick that’s the special stuff dad keeps here,” he tells you cupping his heavy balls.

“oh wow, tastes salty,” you smile, teeth sticky as white drips in your mouth.

“yeah? you did so good baby, dad came so much been so long since he felt so good,” he soothes your hair with some sticky white in the strands.

“really? i guess since you didn’t have a daughter until me it was hard to get it all out.”

“mhmm best when daughters do it for their dad’s,” he grins. sick mind swimming with lewder fantasies with you. “now let’s get cleaned up.”

johnny was falling deeper and deeper into his twisted desires, his mind swirling most of the day with what he wanted to do with you and to you. he thought you would be harder to crack harder to weasel his way to your trust, but you were much easier.

he’d wake up early cock hard as your mother slept beside him. his dreams full of your tiny virgin cunt he so desperately craved. thoughts of his fat cock shoving into you making you scream. when he first saw you he wanted to take you keep you locked in his house so he could fuck you whenever. this was working even better though.

it was harder though to get your mom to wear down enough to agree to a date. despite her desperation for a young cock and companionship she kept you under lock and key. he didn’t get to meet you officially until after he had proposed. sitting across from you at the table grinning and making you giggle at his silly jokes.

your mother liked how he paid attention to you but still “respected” her discipline. and you were worth it the long waiting game of getting her to crack and get into your family. he even had to wait to fuck her old cunt. their wedding night spent at home since you couldn’t be left alone.

she held a pillow over her face as johnny fucked her, saggy tits flopping, johnny imagined it was you. young and sweet and fertile. fucking his cum into his sweet new daughter filling her up while he took her innocence, but he was stuck with your mom for now. thankfully her libido was low so he didn’t have to struggle through too much sex.

he’d wake up and sneak to the bathroom for an early shower jerking his cock picturing your tiny cunt, now he didn’t have to imagine it he knew what it looked like. he spent his morning thinking about what he could get you to do while your mom was away. you weren’t too hard to convince.

innocent little girl, too sheltered to know normal dads didn’t lick their daughters cunny or help their girl pee. you didn’t know any better you were just happy to have the male attention.

he thought he’d still be grooming you to gain your trust but he was already three steps ahead of his plan. he thought he’d be waiting to make you cum until at least christmas, but he even got you to use your little mouth too. now he was onto his next step using his fingers.

he knew this would be harder but he had a few things in mind and whenever he thought too long about it his cock would fill too fast. luckily he had a sweet girl who was now obsessed with helping her dad like a good daughter would.

“dad, can i ask something?” you say, you’re sitting on your bed while your dad sits on the floor helping put together a new shelf for some new books.

“of course,” he puts his tools aside looking up at you.

“when you lick my cunny, why does it feel so good,” you ask, you’d been wondering for a while but felt too shy.

“that’s cause there’s lots of sensitive nerves all on and in your cunny,” he says, he sits up on his knees crawling over to your bed.

“inside?”

“yeah, you know dad told you you have two holes, a pee hole and one for babies?”

“yeah,” you trail, trying to imagine the inside of your cunny.

“the hole babies come out of has lots of nerves. it feels really good there too,” he puts his hands on your bed rubbing the sheets.

“do you put stuff in it to feel good?”

“mhmm you can, sometimes you use fingers or toys that are for that, and when you want to have a baby you use your dad’s cock,” he confirms, his cock growing now pressing against the mattress.

“that fits in there?” you can’t imagine your dad’s big cock fitting in anything.

“yeah but you have to get all stretched out for that.”

“so when people want babies they use their dad’s cocks?”

“yeah, when you want to have a baby in a long, long time you will need to use dad’s cock inside your cunny so he can put a baby in you,”

“oh wow really? so you’ll help me when i get married and want a baby?” he nods, rubbing his hand over your knee. the idea of you getting married to someone makes him sick. he will have to get rid of your mother so he can keep you and put babies in you.

“of course, that’s what dads are for, put as many babies in your little cunny that you want,” he coos.

“does it hurt a lot when you get cock in your cunny?”

“you have to stretch a lot, but that part feels good too baby. using fingers and rubbing all the nerves inside of you, you’d like it,” he confirms.

“can you stretch me some now? does it feel like when i cum?”

“i can if you want me to,” he smiles softly but his head is reeling. “feels like when you cum especially when dads use their mouth and fingers together.”

“oh i want you to please, will you dad. want your fingers in my cunny,” you beg, scooting closer to him.

“silly girl, you still want to, dad already made your cunny feel good earlier. can you handle it?”

“yes yes i can, please,” you whine, spreading your legs showing your slick cunny to him. he’d convinced you to keep your legs bare along with your top. saying this way when you held your pee too long it wouldn’t be so messy, but really it was so he could stare between your legs.

“okay, baby, tell dad if it feels uncomfortable or hurts,” he says, holding up his pinky for you to take. you nod your head, twisting his finger and pushing your thumb to his. he climbs onto your bed and you scoot back making room for him.

“so pretty, i love how curious you are baby,” he coos, making you smile, face heating up easily.

“just never had anyone i could ask you know,” you pout and he nods his head. he comes closer, his cock bouncing as he crawls to you.

“lay back for dad,” he rubs a hand over your arm as you lean back letting your head hit your pillows looking up at him. he reaches around you grabbing the stuffed bear he got you that you had named daddy after him. “in case it’s too much you can hold me.”

“thanks, dad,” you reach for the bear letting it curl into your arm like you do every night.

“now let dad see,” he uses his large hands to spread your legs. you’ve become familiar with this position spread open for your dad to peek and inspect your cunny.

“mmm, such a pretty cunny.” he grins using his right hand he slides his fingers through the folds making you jump on the mattress.

“been so sticky lately, dad,” you mumble, your cunny had been extra slick lately making your panties stain when you slept. you’d had dreams so often of making your dad cum and you’d wake up sticky.

“i know baby, just part of growing up. can’t believe my big girl is already getting her cunny stretched,” he coos, he pushes your legs farther back stretching your thigh as you try to spread wider for him. johnny had noticed the sticky strings between your lips when you peed for him and he was obsessed claiming he had to clean you to get all the sticky up.

when he tucked you in he would do a nightly cunny inspection taking your sticky panties off seeing the thick layer on the center of them. he’d spread your legs after your mom was in bed using his fingers to open your lips and make sure you were all clean before bed. using his tongue to swipe through your folds before putting your sticky panties back on. he’d pat your cunny, making sure you felt the dampness before kissing your cheek and letting you sleep.

“mmm your little hole is so tiny, baby, such a tight cunny,” he comments. you can’t tell if it’s good or bad but he’s smiling so you think it must be good. his fingers are sliding over you getting coated in your wetness. “gotta make sure you’re all sticky so it feels really good.”

“feels good now, dad,” you whine trying to buck your hips against his fingers but his hand is keeping you pushed into the bed. his muscles flex everytime you move and he looks so handsome and strong.

“you know baby once dad stretches your cunny he will have to every night during inspections okay,” he looks at you and you nod excitement bubbling in you. you love the way your dad sneaks into your room and spreads your cunny to check you before bed. the thought of it being longer makes you giddy.

“i like my cunny inspections dad,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around your teddy.

“yeah, me too baby, dad’s gonna push in now okay? hold my hand,” you nod, lacing your fingers into his. you feel pressure, a soft prodding in a place you didn’t know existed. there isn’t much resistance for johnny, his finger easing into your begging hole.

“oh, dad,” you whine, closing your eyes as his finger pushes into you. hot sticky wetness surrounding his digit as he pushes all the way in.

“feel okay?” he stares at your young cunny palm flush against you as you take his single finger.

“yeah, feels so weird but i like it,” you moan, when he curls his finger in you, grinning at your dramatic reaction.

“yeah, feels good doesn’t it? so many sensitive spots in your cunny,” he coos, he eases his finger in and out of you with ease. he loves the warmth of your tight hole wrapping around him and he can’t help but let his mind wander to what his cock is gonna feel when he shoves it into you one day.

“oh, dad, that,” you moan, arching off the bed as he hits your sweet spot. he can’t help but grin, your reaction so cute and innocent as you grip your dad bear.

“yeah, right here is extra sensitive,” he leans in, watching his finger disappear into you. dribbles of slick spilling down onto your perfect sheets as he pushes in and out. your hand squeezes his every time he hits your sweet spot.

“doing so good, baby, taking dad’s big fingers so well,” he pushes your thigh farther back, mashing your hand against your own skin as he gets lower. he leans in, using his tongue to slide over your swollen clit.

“dadddd,” you whine, squirming in his hands but he just grins into your center. his wrist speeding up slightly as he tastes your messy cunny. the pleasure is overwhelming, sending you deeper into a space between real life and heaven.

“oh feels so good. really good.” you moan out gripping his hand tighter. he suckles your clit slowly as he pumps into you he can feel your fluttering walls as you get closer, but he needs to add more he needs to stretch you open.

“gonna add a finger,” he mumbles into your cunt making you vibrate. your legs shake tummy tightening as you nod your head. he feels giddy your reactions egging him on as he slides his middle finger to your entrance.

“good girl,” he pushes the tip of his finger into you slowly. looking to you for approval, but you’re lost in the feeling of being stretched open for the first time. head back mouth open gasping at the feeling and he thinks like that’s confirmation enough.

“taking dad’s fingers so well,” he praises curling his fingers letting the tips brush into you making your call out to him.

“good, dad, feels so,” you whine, gripping your bear and his hand tighter. he leans in again, flicking over your clit slowly letting you savor his fingers. he pushes them in and out slick, pouring down your hole to your sheets.

your walls flutter with each flick of his tongue and wrist, clenching around his fingers as he fills you up over and over. tiny cunt trying to suck him deeper and deeper, and he knows you’re close you don’t take too long especially with his mouth. the frantic bucking of your little hips and heavy panting tipping him off.

“is coming, dad, coming out,” you whine, spit spilling over your lips as you reach your peak, each one better and better. he flicks his tongue faster, letting his fingers feel each squeeze of your cunt as you cum around them.

“good girl, that’s it,” he coos, curling his fingers over and over in you.

“get all that girl cum out.” he fucks his fingers into you pumping all your stickiness along with his digits. you whine and your eyes start to fill with tears obsessed with the feeling as it washes over you.

“dad, dad,” you call, tugging his hand. he slows knowing he’s being too rough, sending you into overstimulation but he knows your sensitive little cunny isn’t ready for that. he slows before pulling his fingers out strings of slick attached them to your cunny.

“look how pretty baby, got so much of that girl cum out of you,” he grins, holding his fingers up. you whimper watching him suck them into his mouth swirling and tasting your orgasm.

“did so fucking good for dad,” he says, making you hot his use of a bad word twisting your tummy.

“felt so good dad, i like it so much,” you whimper, he lets go of your thigh resting it on the bed. his fingers stay in yours as you peek down and see his heavy cock hard between his legs and your mouth waters.

“you had so much cum even after this morning,” he coos, he climbs up the bed laying beside you letting his sticky fingers pet your teddy.

“dad is your cock tingly?” you stare into his eyes innocently.

“so tingly baby, seeing you all pretty,” he grins, his cock is heavy laying on your hip.

“can i get your boy cum out?” your lewd words make him dizzy.

“you don’t have to, i know you’re tired, little one,” he says softly.

“wanna, i can just use my fingers like dad,” you beg you really wanna touch your dad you love making him feel good.

“if you’re sure,” he rubs a big hand over your face. you nod letting go of his hand to slide it over your tummy to the head of his cock.

“wanna do it for you, dad,” you mewled, slowly tugging his cock in your hands. he was so thick.

“mmm, baby, you’re so sweet,” he coos, beginning to thrust his hips into your fist.

“lemme,” you pull away and he watches your small hand reach between your legs, scooping your slick from your cunt with a sigh. the casualness of your act makes him twitch. the sight of your sticky fingers causes you to giggle when you see them.

“you need to be sticky too,” you giggle, watching your fingers glisten as you move, spreading them and seeing the sticky strings. “here, dad.” you wrap your hand around him using your sticky cum to rub your dad’s cock. he can’t help but groan pushing his head into your neck.

“my smart girl,” he purrs, his breath tickles you making you squirm. you keep your hand sliding up and down his thick shaft trying to wrap around him fully.

“so big, dad,” you comment, watching your hand slide over him.

“yeah, gonna have to stretch your cunny so much before i put any babies in you,” he grins. you bite your lip focusing on his cock letting your thumb slide over the pretty, dark tip.

“gonna be so full,” you babble, entranced by the slick bubbling out of his tip.

“so full, but you’re my good girl, you’ll take dad’s cock so good,” he moaned, bucking his hips into your hand. he reaches around you using his arms to cage you in so he could angle his cock into your fist.

“yeah, baby, just like that, doing so fucking good for dad,” he groans, staring at your small hand as he fucks into your fingers. you hold your teddy in your other hand like it isn’t making johnny crazy. his pretty soft baby was all deluded with pleasuring her dad.

“wanna taste,” you whimper, looking up at him with pleading eyes, his hair falling in his face. he grins down at you and if you were so enthralled with him he’d look like a predator claiming his prey.

“i can arrange that,” he says softly lifting off his one hand he brushes his hair from his face. he leans back pushing himself against the headboard, his cock slapping his stomach before he spreads his legs for you.

“wanna lay on my tummy,” you say crawling over to him, bear still in your hand. you settle between his legs leaning your arm over his leg.

“you’re so tiny, baby,” he says and you wiggle your butt in protest. “mmm, cute.” he pets your face and you lean into his touch soft and safe. reaching up you take his cock in your hand.

“wanna taste your dad cum, please,” you whine, leaning in you let your mouth wrap around his tip. you had been practicing for a bit now taking more and more of his cock each time craving the praise and the taste.

“mmm, you suck dad’s cock so good,” he hisses, holding your cheeks as they fill and empty with his cock. you bob your head taking more and more but making sure to breathe like dad had taught you.

“yeah, taking so much now, getting so brave,” he comments. you love how he talks to you, filling your head with gushy things and your tummy with heat. he always knows how to make the words touch you deep inside.

“fuckkk,” he bites his lip watching your eyes start to drip as you swallow around him taking in all you can your cheeks hollow as you suck. “look at your pretty face.”

you feel your cunny tingle more it never seems to go away for long lately. anytime you see your dad it makes you shiver and crave him. he was just so perfect and he told you lots of daughters got cunny tingles because of their dad.

his pretty moans filling your room as you soak his cock in spit, letting it dribble out of your mouth and down the rest of his shaft using your hands to slip it up and down. he tasted so good filling your mouth like a summer popsicle.

“so close baby, gonna cum for my girl,” he groans, gripping your pillow to keep from fucking into your mouth. you feel an urgent need, bobbing your head faster, swirling your tongue more to make him cum.

“open baby,” he grunts and you pull off strings of spit as you stroke his cock. you open wide letting your tongue lay against the tip as he shoots boy cum in your mouth. you let it fill your mouth your favorite taste on your tongue.

“mmm, so good baby, made dad feel so good,” he moans, watching the pretty white pool on your tongue. he taps your chin and you swallow. he’d trained you so well. you gulp him down greedily savoring the taste before sticking your bare tongue out his thumb hitting your chin.

“atta girl, got all dad’s boy cum,” he praises, making your tummy turn.

“tastes so good, dad, i like it so much,” you admit leaning your head on his big thigh.

“cause you’re my girl,” he coos his hand sliding over your cheek wiping tears from under your eyes. you nod you are his girl.

you feel silly when you wake up in the night with a bad dream startling you awake. someone taking your dad away and never letting him come back. you felt so sad and scared but you were grown up you couldn’t go crying to your mom she would tease you.

you patter down the hall teddy bear in hand pushing your parents bedroom door opened. your mom snoring her face mask over her eyes beside your dad who is sitting up reading glasses on looking at a book. his head tilts to you, concern on his face as he puts his book aside opening his arms to you.

you shuffle over leaning into his touch, his warmth wrapping around you reminding you it was just a dream.

“you okay?” he whispers into your neck. you shake your head. he pulls back eyes searching your face seeing your tears.

“what’s wrong, baby,” he shuffles up his legs sliding off the side of the bed to wrap you closer.

“bad dream,” you sniffle trying to keep quiet.

“aww darling,” you soothes his hands over your making you calm down.

“can you come lay with me,” you ask, not sure of his answer. your mom would say you were too old for that and call you silly.

“of course,” he says, standing up as he puts his glasses on the bedside table, clicking the lamp off before turning to you.

“let’s get you to bed,” he says calmly, his hand on your back leading you down the hall back to your room. he helps you get tucked in making sure you have all the things you need before he slides under the sheets, hot body pressing to you.

“wanna talk about it?” he asks, petting softly at your messy hair.

“just,” you pause, trying not to blubber. “mean people took you away from me and i was all alone.”

“oh baby no,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around you pulling you to him. “no one will ever take dad from you.”

“felt so real,” you whimper, trying to keep your eyes from filling with tears.

“i know baby, i know.” he coddles, keeping you close to his bare chest reassuring you. “it’s okay, dad’s always gonna be with you.”

“i love you so much dad,” you say and he leans down kissing your head. “will you kiss me on my mouth to make me feel better?”

“would that help my girl?” he brushes hair from your face as you nod, hoping he will kiss you like he does your mom with tongue and all.

“please,” you plead, still whispering. he smiles at you, his hand cupping your cheek like he does to your mom pulling you to him. his soft lips push against yours, melting you with relief. you put your hand on his shoulder trying to keep him close, but he pulls away.

“dad,” you pout big lips begging for more.

“was that not enough,” he teases you as the moon shines on his cheek bones making him sparkle.

“no, want your tongue. please, want to try it,” you beg trying to squeeze close to him.

“you know you must be a grown up now this is how grownups kiss,” he coos at you.

“i am a grownup silly, i want to kiss dad like grownups,” you try to get him closer but you just settle for a small hand on his cheek like he does to you.

“mmm, okay, dad will kiss you like a grownup but you can’t ew like you do when i kiss your mom,” he grins and you nod eagerly closing your eyes and puffing your lips.

he leans in again. he lips are so soft and warm he tilts your face somehow closer to you, opening his mouth to slide his tongue over your lips. you follow your instincts parting your lips letting his tongue in your mouth. he tastes like cinnamon and you think about the tea he drinks every night. the taste fills your body from tongue to your toes. he’s all over you.

he pulls you closer sliding his leg between yours as his tongue glides against your. it felt like you understood everything, why grownups kiss like this, it all made sense. it felt so special and you felt so close to your dad. you swirl your tongue with his like it was a game his lips pushing against yours. he pulls away but you nibble his lip to bring him back and he groans bringing his mouth back to yours.

you flick your tongue into his mouth craving more cinnamon letting him suck your tongue like he does your clitty. he pulls away catching his breath as he looks at you, chest moving fast.

“not so icky huh?” he grins, you pull him to you, sticking your tongue out to swipe over his mouth and he obliges, opening his lips letting you explore. gripping his shoulder you buck into him rubbing your cunny over his knee as you flip your tongue in his wet mouth.

he sucks your tongue, pulling it into his mouth, sticky sounds filling your room as your rut against him. he uses his hand to slide down your body settling on the curve over your waist, helping you move back and forth against him. you whimper into his mouth, head overloaded with his taste and tongue and the tingles filling your body.

“slow down baby,” he pulls away watching you jerking fast against him.

“feel so good,” you whine, rubbing yourself against him.

“i know but mom’s down the hall, don’t wanna wake her.”

“can you touch me i’ll be so quiet,” you plead, big eyes looking up at him and he can’t say no.

“c’mere,” he says, turning you on your back letting his arm wrap around you. he uses his knee to part your legs before putting his hand over your panty covered cunny.

“gotta be quiet so dad’s gonna keep his hand over your mouth okay?” you nod reaching for his wrist to hold as his palm covers your swollen lips.

“good girl, so sticky from kissing dad,” he coos, his hand hiding the entire bottom half of your face. he slides his fingers over your cunny rubbing your through your panties. soft circles as he feels your swollen clit through the thigh fabric.

“clitty’s all hard baby,” he whispers, using a finger he flicks it over the bud making you arch your back. his hands grip you tightly, keeping you in place as he continues. his fingers circle your swollen nub, your tummy tight and fuzzy.

“being so good for dad,” he presses his lips to your forehead, a thin layer of sweat on your skin. your tummy bubbles with pleasure, his words hitting you right where his fingers touch. your legs start to shake trying to close around his hand.

“keep them open,” he directs and you force them open, letting his leg lock you in place. “good girl.” every word he says hangs in the air heavy and hot and pouring over you drawing you closer. he knows, knows your close reads your body like his favorite book.

“cum for dad, you can do it baby,” he mumbles into your skin, eyes focused on his fingers swirling over your panties. you whimper spit soaking his palm as you jerk in his hold hips rutting into his hand the final heat pouring down your body as you cum toes curling and legs twitching.

“that’s my girl, get all that cum out for dad,” he coos, slowing his fingers but keeping steady pressure as your head lolls in his hold. your panties are soaked and damp against you his digits rub the fabric.

you whine the touch almost too much and he stops keeping his hand resting on your still twitching cunny. he releases your mouth letting you catch your breath and spit coats his hand.

“so quiet for me, such a good girl,” he kisses your forehead and then your cheek. you turn your head letting his lips hit yours again, pushing your spit covered mouth to his chasing his taste again. you pull away licking his cinnamon flavor from your lips.

“thanks for making me feel better, daddy,” you push your head into his neck curling into him.

“getting sleepy, baby?” you nod into his chest spent and satisfied and feeling safe.

“love you, daddy,” you babble, closing your eyes. he can’t help but stare at you, so soft and gentle in his arms like he didn’t just make you cum with your mom down the hall. so sweet and naive.

“love you, little baby,” he soothes his hand over you, tucking you into him. he pulls your covers up and gets you settled, letting you rest in his arms.

he stays up thinking about how far he’s come in his plan. not even the end of summer and he’s so far ahead of schedule. he might even get to take your virginity before christmas if you kept this up.

the summer was coming to an end and johnny had been trying to convince your mom to go on a family vacation. she was very against it, claiming you wouldn’t do well out of the house or out of town. you pouted and whined to johnny saying you would do really well and be very good.

he knew you would and the thought of you in a swimsuit made him throb. thinking of touching your cunny under the water while your mom grumbled about being away from home. sliding the tight material aside so he could push his fingers into your little hole.

“i just think it would be nice, she’s trapped in here all day everyday and it would be good to get away. relax on the beach,” he tells your mom you listen to them from your room. your door is open and so is there’s, as you pretend to sleep.

“she doesn’t need to go out, she's safer at home, and what is so relaxing about sand in every crevice,” your mom groans. she was such a fun sucker.

“but think how nice it will be, sleeping in, the pool, maybe even massages,” you can hear your dad’s voice slowing, trying to convince her. you can’t see him walking to your mom holding her hips squeezing her butt.

“you’re too charming for your own good,” she teases. your mom is right about that. your dad was so charming and sweet.

“i just think it would be so much fun. i’ll watch her so you can go do whatever you want,” he grins at his wife convincing her that he’s in love with her as he rubs the bulge he’s got for her daughter against her.

“that sounds tempting, but i don’t think it would be good for her. i don’t want her thinking she can just leave whenever she pleases.”

“i know, you’re so protective and that’s so sexy, but we can keep her inside the whole time. i’ll watch her while mommy gets some sun and rest,” he coaxes her. he knows he can break her, it's not too hard. she’s desperate and easy and she secretly likes her hot young husband shirtless.

“fine, but only 3 days,” she grumbles, you grin with excitement filling your belly. you wonder what sand feels like on your feet.

“yesss,” he cheers, “mmm you’re such a good wife, i’ll book it for us.” he rubs his hands over her hips before spanking her playfully.

“yeah i don’t want to bother with that.”

“i’ll take care of everything. does she have a swimsuit or beach clothes?”

“i want her fully covered out there. no one needs to see her skimpy body,” you pout again. you wanted a pretty bikini like you saw on tv, maybe you could convince your dad.

“i’ll see if we can find a suit for her,” he pauses and you hear lips smacking. you feel anger wash over your heating your belly with jealousy. you should be kissing him instead. “what about mommy.”

“i have a few,” she says, laughing. “shut the door.”

“she’s asleep, just come here,” he drags her to the bed despite her protests.

“just be quiet,” she mumbles, pushing a pillow over her face like she always does. johnny does the work not bothering to stretch her just pushing his half hard cock into her slit after dousing himself in lube. you could hear the squelching, your dad’s familiar grunting and you felt jealous.

he was probably touching her cunny and she was touching his dad cock like you did. so unfair. you want his fingers and his mouth on your cunny the thought made you tingle.

“ffff,” he groaned, you giggled thinking of him saying fuck with you but not her. he tried his best to enjoy it but she just wasn’t his teen daughter. he didn’t care about getting her off in a sweet way so he just mashes his fingers against your clit hoping she’d cum fast so he could jerk off after. he didn’t want to waist any cum on your mom.

her old cunt bored him. he craved your young tight cunny small and slick from just a word. he imagined you below him spread out, hips stretching to accommodate his large thighs. watching your cunny suck him in a bulge growing in your tummy from his size.

he felt your mom tighten her orgasm approaching so he sped his fingers, letting her cum flatly on his cock. no pretty soft sounds, no arching into his touch, no soft skin, no cunny flutters. he pulled out when she pushed his hand away he jerked his cock groaning pretending to fill the condom while she kept her face covered.

he groaned fakely before acting like he had to catch his breath as he tugged the condom off. he’d save his boy cum for his girl in the morning. he tied the empty condom before going to the bathroom, tossing it in the trash letting his wife roll over lazily. she could clean herself up he frankly didn’t care. he knew she’d be snoring when he went back in there.

he hated her. despised her even. evil woman keeping his princess locked in a suburban castle. he wanted to steal you away. keep you safe with your dad away from her grubby hold.

pt 2 ⇢ practice makes perfect

pt 3 ⇢ nobody baby but you and me

©️tddyhyck

#johnny x reader #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh x you #johnny suh smut #johnny suh scenarios #johnny smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct hard hours #nct 127 hard hours

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pearlessance · 4 months ago

Text

Beneath the Armor —part one

summary: Joel Miller has been the center of all the gossip in the trailer park since he tragically lost his daughter. He's short-tempered and mean as hell, his hostility no doubt spurred on by that beer he always has in hand. But when you need a ride to work and he's your last resort, you come to find he's much more than what meets the eye.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI (not in this part but in part two!), ANGST with a happy ending, grief, mention of child loss, daddy issues, age difference, slow burn, attempted seduction, use of alcohol, and references to alcohol abuse, brat taming, eventual smut

wc: 6.9k

note: this entire concept is owed to my bff joelmillersgirlfriend over on AO3! we've cowritten this together (to the shock of no one, i'm pretty sure i need her to write at this point), and if you haven't gone over there to read her stuff by now then you're missing out!! part two coming soon <3 let us know what you think!

[part two]

[masterlist] [read on AO3!]

Talking to Joel Miller was like pulling teeth with a rusty old plier, one by one, nerve by nerve. He used his silence, his pity like a suit of armor. Meant to protect him, but still wrapped around a man who was too scared to confront his fears. To learn his own forgiveness.

You had vaguely known him since you were a senior in high school and had seen him and his little girl move into the trailer across from yours. You were sitting on the front porch, occasionally sipping from the iced lemonade in your hand. Summer had come in hot, and the beaming sun was relentless during the first humid weeks of July.

Joel and Sarah had been the talk of the neighborhood — the dad and the little girl with an oxygen tank. You heard the rumors from some of your friends in the trailer park - that Joel couldn’t afford to keep up with her medical bills, so he had to sell his house and abandon the business he had built up with his bare hands.

Still, she was a fighter until her last breath. Joel, however, died the day Sarah did. She had only lived for eleven months after moving into the park. What was once a motivated little family fighting hard against the disease soon became a single man inside of an empty shell.

His warm smiles that he would give to neighbors who brought Sarah over toys and “get well soon!” cards soon turned into nothingness — a dark, empty expression. Joel stopped going out as much, replacing soccer balls and dirty sneakers with whiskey and cigarettes. He no longer stood out on his porch, playing guitar and smiling at you once he met your eyes from your own porch.

Kathy, who lived directly next to you, begged her husband, Parker, to call the cops for a wellness check for Joel. On the first anniversary of her death, he didn’t leave the house for a week.

“Mind your own business. God only knows how he’s havin’ to cope; seeing cops knocking on his front door in the middle of the night won’t help nothing.”

You had to admit you were more than a little relieved when you saw him finally emerge, tired-looking with heavy eyes. He got in his car and left before coming back thirty minutes later, a new case of beer in tow.

You spent too much time observing him, ensuring he was alright, even if he didn’t know that. With no dad that you could remember and a mother who remarried some douchebag and skipped town after you were old enough to live on your own, all you had was time. After senior graduation, your friends in the park found a way to escape to college, but you were stuck and unable to escape, just like Joel.

While your friends went to get a degree, you found a job at a bar up the road. It was grimy and far beyond your dream, but you earned good tips. With responsibilities that caused you to stay and a deep fear of failure, you could not leave the town you’d grown up in.

Out of desperation, you’d leaped and applied to some college several towns away. It was a spur-of-the-moment impulse, an unrealistic kind of thing. It’s not like you’d be able to afford it anyway.

So it was a cycle: wake up, work, sleep, and do it all over again. You understood how Joel must feel, trapped in a never-ending pattern, reliving memories that couldn’t ever really go away — not entirely.

And of course, you understood what it was like being handed the short end of the stick. You both wound up in the same place, after all.

Which was what led you to walk towards Joel’s trailer one evening. Your shift at work was about to start, but your car wouldn’t crank. You'd tried going to Kathy’s house first, but nobody answered. You couldn’t lose your job, already having too many tardies because of your piece of shit car.

The soles of your shoes crunched against the leaves on Joel’s front porch step, your eyes moving to look at him sitting in a plastic lawn chair. His hair was getting long, hanging over his eyes wildly.

Joel bristled when he noticed you standing on his front porch step, a cigarette hanging between his lips. You’d never been this close to him. It was much easier to see how handsome he was up close: thick hair, a graying beard. Simply too easy on the eyes.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his eyes slipping away from your face and down to your outfit. You always dressed up for work, knowing it’d get you extra tips. Maybe you went a little overboard with the fishnets and the amount of cleavage you were showing, but it always paid off in the end.

His hips shift in his seat, waiting for you to answer his question.

You cleared your throat, standing up straight to make yourself feel more significant compared to the giant man. “I’m sorry to bother you. My car won’t start, and I’m gonna be late for work.”

Joel glared up at you. “So?”

Taken aback by his hostility, you paused, hesitating. You knew that he was a sad man, but nobody had told you that he was an asshole.

“So… I was hoping you could give me a ride. I could pay you for the gas and-“

Joel stood up in the middle of you talking, the wood creaking under his boots as he walked to the front door and into the house. You faltered, standing stupidly on this rude man’s front porch step.

With a huff, you spun around, leaving the porch. “Fuckin’ asshole,” you muttered under your breath, suddenly jumping at the sound of the screen door slamming shut behind you. Joel had returned, this time with keys in his hand and a brown t-shirt pulled over his white wife's beater.

“Say somethin’?” Joel asked, walking ahead but narrowing his eyes directly at your face.

“Nope,” you quickly chirped, rushing to catch up with him. “I thought you’d left me standing outside.”

“‘Bout did,” Joel grumbled under his breath, unlocking the truck door before climbing in. It was your turn to narrow your eyes at Joel, rolling them at the asshole. Even though he was an unexpected dickhead, you had to admit that you enjoyed the way his arms flexed as he pulled himself into his truck.

The drive to the bar was filled with mostly silence, except for the hum of some Radiohead album playing on the radio. Joel had the truck windows rolled down, the wind whipping the loose strands of your hair around your face.

You tried to subtly glance over at him, watching the same cigarette from earlier placed between his plush lips. Without thinking, you reached over, plucking the cigarette away from his mouth.

His dark eyes snapped at you in disbelief as he watched you inhale his cigarette, the residue from your lipstick staining the filter. You weren’t sure why you needed to catch Joel’s attention, but you were sure it somehow related to how he was ignoring you. It made you crave his attention. Fucking daddy issues.

“Now you owe me gas money and a pack of Marlboro’s,” Joel said, reaching over to swipe the cigarette out of your mouth. He eyed the lipstick stain, sighing in annoyance before deciding the nicotine was worth it.

Your blood warmed at the thought that Joel’s lips touched where yours had just been, indirectly tasting your mouth. His eyes flickered over to you, watching him, a low frown on his face.

“What’s a girl like you workin’ at Dazzlers anyways?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes at his remark. “I’m a bartender, not a lap dancer,” you said, prompting Joel to give you an eye roll in return.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered, almost so quietly that you didn’t notice, but you did. You understood that he had been through a lot, but Christ, there was no need to take it out on you. You swallowed your pride, knowing he was your last resort to not being fired.

Despite the weird tension and the silence, you found yourself drawn to Joel’s brooding energy, glancing at him occasionally through the darkness.

Apparently, he was more observant than you thought.

“Need somethin’?” he questioned, not even glancing in your direction. Maybe it had to do with dad spidey senses or something, but being caught had made your blood warm in your veins.

You shook your head, unable to bite your tongue.

“Nobody told me that you were such a dickhead.”

To your surprise, Joel didn’t even falter, with almost no response to your jab at his aggressive demeanor.

“Yeah, well, watchin’ your daughter deteriorate right in front of you can change a man,” he replied bluntly, taking a long drag of his cigarette without even looking away from the road.

It made you instantly feel bad, regretting your words no matter how much truth they held.

“That’s not what I meant-“ you tried to explain, but Joel waved his hand, dismissing your excuse. His large palm made a rush of air past your face, your eyes blinking at him in response.

“Just leave it,” Joel grumbled, so you obeyed. It wasn’t for long before you arrived at your job, your eyes watching the bright neon lights flashing through the parking lot. You rifled through your purse, attempting to retrieve a couple of bills, but Joel’s palm wrapping around your own stopped you.

Bright-eyed, you looked up to meet his gaze, his usual timid expression replaced with one of determination.

“You don’t gotta pay me.”

Strong words coming from someone who was just belittling you for owing him money for gas and cigarettes.

“I don’t wanna owe you anything. Just let me give you a couple of dollars and we’ll call it even,” you said, attempting to rifle back through your bag, but being stopped by his massive palm once again.

“Who’s gonna bring you back home tonight?” Joel questioned, his concern genuinely surprising you. Before you shrugged, you allowed your defenses to fall, mostly due to your shock.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll figure it out.”

Joel shook his head, rolling his eyes at your half-assed answer. “What time does your shift end?”

You paused, pulling your purse to your chest before glancing at the front of the building. Did you really want Joel to pick you up? Was sitting through another weirdly comforting yet intense ride worth it?

When you looked back at Joel, he didn’t seem willing to take no for an answer; his eyebrows were drawn into an almost scowl-like expression. Sighing with exasperation, you finally spoke.

“We close at midnight.”

He nodded in response, breaking his intense eye contact with you before opting out to seemingly judge the building itself. It was a rough place, with neon lights flashing and motorcycles lined up at the entrance. It certainly looked more intimidating than it actually was.

You were surprised when Joel decided to bite his tongue, not slipping out with some smart allelic response about the place. Instead, he hummed, a quick and easy response to your answer.

“I’ll see you then,” he replied, but something about his words made your chest burn, like it was almost a promise that he’d be there to look out for you. To protect you.

He did wind up picking you up that night and numerous nights after you explained to him that your alternator had given out and your car would be in the shop for a couple of days. He never argued or took your gas money despite the way he grumbled under his breath when you knocked at his front door at quarter past three.

It was almost routine to have Joel take you to and from work, and when your car was back in operation, you nearly didn’t want to tell him. Though your time together hadn’t really given you a glimpse into the man Joel truly was since he hardly spoke, it allowed him to get to know you.

You’d rambled on about your absent father, how your mom had abandoned you once she realized you could support yourself. Never did he judge or belittle you. He’d always listen and make sure you were heard.

Despite that, he never answered your questions when you’d pried at him. Asking him about family? No go. The business he’d given up? Of course not.

Anything about Sarah?

The first and only time you had fished for information about her, you thought he was going to toss you out of his car. His eyes narrowed and fists clenched the steering wheel, an audible growl of anger leaving his throat.

“You ever say her name again, and you can walk to work, understand?”

You hadn’t seen much of his anger explode like that before, except during the unexpected arrival of his brother, Tommy. It was on the evening that you finally got your car back, and as you mustered the courage to walk over to Joel’s trailer to let him know that he didn’t have to take you back and forth, you noticed something. In front of his crumbling front deck was a dark pick-up truck, one that didn’t belong in a place like this. It was sparkling new, clearly waxed, with big, gleaming rims.

Before you even had the chance to think much about it, you heard a shout inside Joel’s trailer, a booming voice that almost made you scurry back to your own home.

“I already told you, Tommy! I’m not doin’ it!” Footsteps tracked through the house, heavy boots against weak plywood practically shaking the trailer. You could see shapes pass by the front window, suggesting that both Joel and his seemingly unwanted guest were about to come outside.

Now you were actually scurrying across his lawn, attempting to retreat back from Joel’s yard before you were spotted, but the front door opened too quickly. Thankfully, the heated conversation between him and who you assumed to be Tommy precluded their heated gazes from meeting yours.

Without wanting to assume who Tommy was, he certainly looked like he was related to Joel - their intense glares were almost identical. The height, the face-shapes, all of it. Even Tommy’s deep drawl matched as he bellowed in return.

“I don’t understand why you gotta be so goddamn stubborn. Here I am, drivin’ halfway across the county just to see you, to give you an opportunity to get out of this shithole, but instead, you’re chosin’ to live in a shell and letting yourself wind up just like-”

Joel’s frame towered over Tommy’s despite the considerable height that Tommy had himself. Something dark was brewing beneath Joel’s features, clearly quite close to boiling over. Even though you knew you were watching an intense, private moment, you had never seen this kind of emotion from Joel before. You were almost bewitched, unmoving, questioning if you should intervene to stop a potential fight from breaking out.

Tommy’s nostrils were flared, his chest pressed against Joel’s, while Joel’s fists were clenched into a tight ball, threatening to strike like a snake.

“I told you last time. Bring her up again, and you won’t have a mouth left to speak from.”

Tommy scoffed. “She was just as much mine as she was yours, Joel. Just because you ran away when things got hard and buried yourself deeper and deeper into a hole doesn’t mean I don’t miss her.” He began to stomp off of the front porch, making his way to the truck that was parked in the driveway.

“But that’s fine! This will be the last damn time I come over thinkin’ that maybe you’re ready to change. Go ahead and delete my number from your phone.”

Both you and Joel, as well as a couple of other neighbors who had decided to leave their houses to view the commotion, watched Tommy’s truck tires screech against the pavement. His departure was bitter and final, an angry bite to the way he spit those words.

You can’t imagine being on the receiving end of them, and when you turned your head to glance at Joel, you found his eyes boring into you. His shoulders are pulled tight, and his jaw is set, and he said nothing as he stepped back into his trailer and slammed the door hard behind him.

Perfect timing, you thought to yourself. There’s never been a better day for your car to have been up and running again. You didn’t waste time lingering in his yard.

But before you can feel the pavement of the narrow street beneath your sneakers, his disgruntled voice cut through the air. “Where do you think you’re goin’?”

You turned to face him, unsure of yourself. Joel’s an asshole, you know that much, but you didn’t think you’ve ever seen him this worked up and angry. “Uhm…about that. I was just coming to tell you that I don’t need a ride today-”

Joel scoffed and shook his head, keys jingling in his hand “Get in the damn truck,” he said, venom on his tongue. And you know he’s not mad at you, but your stomach turned at his fury anyway. “Gonna be late if we don’t get a move on.”

Tomorrow, you decide. You’ll tell him about your car tomorrow. But for now, you do as he said. While he stuck the key in the ignition and turned the engine over, you climbed into the passenger seat, which still smelled faintly of your perfume from the night before.

He pulled onto the road and started the familiar route to the bar, his movements rehearsed and, by now, muscle memory. You sat in silence as he steered with one hand and pulled a cigarette from the center console with the other. He lit it, inhaled the nicotine deep into his lungs, and let out a heavy sigh.

You wondered if you should say something. A million questions are pressed against the back of your teeth. But now isn’t the best time to poke and prod for a glimpse into the man he is outside of what you’ve seen with your own two eyes. So you decided to say something else instead, something that might grant him a little relief. “My car is fixed. That’s what I was trying to tell you. So, tomorrow, you won’t have to worry about giving me rides anymore.”

He glanced at you briefly and then shook his head. “No.”

The word is so simple and definitive in his mouth that it caught you off guard. So much so that you found yourself fighting amusement. “What do you mean no?”

“Just what I said, damn it. You hard of hearing all of a sudden?”

“Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with you?” You hadn’t wanted to press his buttons. Truly. But what right does he have to spew insults as if you were the one screaming at him on his front porch? Your tone was condescending as you said, “Come on. Try it with me; congrats! I’m sooo happy things are finally going your way! I’m glad I could be of help! No problem at all-!”

“Cut that shit out.”

“Me? You first.”

His jaw feathered as he clenched his teeth. He ashed his cigarette out of the open window and then sighed again, calmer this time. “Alright. I’m…”

“Sorry?”

His throat bobbed as if he tried to get the word out but it didn’t quite make it to his tongue. Instead, he just said, “Yeah.”

This time, you’re the one sighing. “It’s okay.”

Another few seconds of silence passed between you, but they were not as uncomfortable as they’d been when you’d first gotten into the truck. Less tension, less anger. And then he said, “Don’t want you drivin’ anywhere in that thing in the middle of the night.”

Your heart pinched in your chest at the words. They’re said with a certain sort of irritation, but yet they’re still so… protective. It’s not something you’ve ever had before, but in the last few days he’s given you a taste and it isn’t until now that you realized you’d developed a craving for it. “Why not?”

“Ain’t safe. Could break down again any second. Leave you stranded at midnight in the middle of nowhere. God knows the kinda people you’re servin’ at that place, would consider themselves lucky to find ya on the side of the road.” He shook his head as if to clear the image from his mind. “I’ll just keep takin’ ya.”

Even though you fought the warmth that crawled up your cheeks, you know he could tell his words did something to you. Joel’s attention left the road for only long enough to steal a fleeting glance at your face, and when he turned back to the task at hand he snorted incredulously.

But it’s the first time that anyone has ever considered your safety and altered their routine to make it a priority. It makes you feel special and warm and…wanted. And you know it’s likely your daddy issues blurring the lines once again, but you just can’t help yourself or the way your mind jumped to conclusions. “Is that your way of saying you care about me?”

He pressed his fingertips into his temple to massage away a headache. “Stop that.”

You didn’t listen. Of course, you don’t. You leaned in closer, hands on the empty leather seat between you. “Aww… who would've thought Joel Miller would secretly be a softie?” You’d never been so close to him before, so close that you could see the brown-colored freckles splattered across the bridge of his nose.

You swallowed down your sudden nerves due to the close proximity, enjoying the way Joel shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I said cut it out. Sit back down the right way ‘fore I get a ticket.”

It was impossible to follow his orders now, not after seeing how easy it was to rile him up.

Moving even closer, your lips a breath's distance away from Joel’s neck, you whispered, “I think you like the attention.”

“I think you’re mistaken,” he huffed back, but his voice lacked the bite he intended, much softer than the way he was yelling at Tommy earlier. His gaze flicked over to you, watching with an intense curiosity, but only momentarily.

“I won’t tell you again,” Joel commanded, brushing you back to your seat with a gentle shove of his elbow.

“What are you gonna do if I don’t?” you questioned, although you were sitting back in your seat like he asked you to. “Punish me? Spank me?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, I oughta. Maybe it’d finally teach you some manners,” Joel glanced over to catch your eye. “Anyone ever told you that you got a real weird sense of humor?”

Shrugging, you couldn’t help the slide smirk that spread across your face. “Blame it on my daddy issues.”

Joel didn’t even try to hide his disbelief, a red flush rising from the top of his collarbones and up his neck.

“Lord help me,” he whispered under his breath.

You granted him a bit of grace, ending your teasing and opting to enjoy the sound of music playing on the radio for the rest of the ride. It was always peaceful riding with Joel, the heat of the summer breeze warming your face.

From the heady smell of Joel’s Marlboros to the shrill voice of The Smashing Pumpkins playing over the speakers; the comfort of the situation always made you want to break down Joel’s walls. You wanted to see what he was like when he was entirely vulnerable, what he looked like when he woke up in the morning and didn’t have the opportunity to remember all his worries.

From that moment, you decided that you would get Joel to open up one way or another.

Your heart dropped a little when he pulled into the bar's parking lot, his tires crunching against the loose gravel. Joel’s long fingers were swift, reaching to the radio to turn down the music.

Things felt weird, that same intensity from the moment you’d gotten into the car returning. It felt like he wanted to say something, his mouth twitching before his lips were pressed into a straight line.

“I wasn’t joking, y’know,” you said, hoping to break the awkward silence of saying goodbye.

Joel didn’t say anything, the curious raise of his eyebrow speaking for him.

“About wanting you to spank me,” you snipped back, hopping out of his truck right after you admitted it to him. You could see what appeared to be a stifled smile forming on his lips as he shook his head. It made you feel good that you were able to distract him from reality for even a couple of minutes. God knew he needed it.

“See you at midnight. Stay out of trouble,” he called back from his truck, waiting to leave until he watched you safely enter the building.

He was on your brain your entire shift, which wasn’t unusual. What was different now was the pieces of information you’d found out, ranging from his argument with Tommy and his little resistance to your flirting.

So, of course, curiosity killed the cat. On your break you found yourself googling a string of searches; Joel Miller, Tommy, Joel and Tommy, until eventually you landed on an old company website.

Miller Bros Construction Company.

It was outdated, with inquiries and testimonials from years ago, but it did answer a couple of your questions. After clicking on the “about us” tab, you saw a photo of a much younger, happier-looking Joel.

His arm was thrown around Tommy’s shoulder, a huge smile plastered on his face. If you didn’t know every inch of Joel’s face, you would’ve considered that it wasn’t actually him. He looked so… happy. It broke your heart to know that he had become half of the man he used to be.

‘Brothers Joel and Tommy Miller have been serving the greater population of Austin, TX for several years,’ the tab read, confirming your suspicions that they were related. You glanced at Tommy, happily smiling next to Joel, directly contradicting what you’d seen earlier.

The inquiry tab at the bottom was broken, redirecting to a no longer active form.

Christ. His daughter's death had indeed ruined him. It had sucked all of the happiness out of Joel, leaving him angry and alone. He pushed everything good and decent away.

You spent the rest of your break lurking, sifting through Tommy’s Facebook page, seeing his now solely owned business booming. He had a pretty fiancé, and things honestly looked good for him. You noticed that Joel was nowhere on his page, but you would occasionally see photos of Tommy and Sarah beaming together before she’d gotten sick.

The guilt of it all had eaten at you, so severely that you decided to buy a burger plate before the kitchen closed for the night. Joel had gone out of his way to take care of you, to take you back and forth from work, even though he grumbled about it. He deserved to feel taken care of in return.

Plus, you were almost certain that his diet mainly consisted of cigarettes and alcohol. How he still looked so goddamn good was a question you’d never have answered.

When you left work, it was like clockwork; Joel’s truck sat outside the building, waiting for you.

The sun was long gone by now, so it was difficult to see Joel sitting in the driver's seat. You’d hoped that he had cooled off from earlier, especially now that you know more about the context of the argument.

You plopped into the passenger seat, greeting Joel only by placing the plate of food on the center console.

“What’s this?” Joel questioned, no hello or how was your shift? Typical Joel Miller.

“What’s it look like? I got you dinner.”

He rolled his eyes, pointing a finger at the clock display. “It’s midnight.”

“And…?” He raised his brows and you clicked your tongue in response. “When was the last time you had a meal that wasn’t made in a microwave?”

Joel fixed you with a stare, and something lingered in his eyes that you couldn’t quite make out. It’s as if he’s trying to decide whether to yell at you or simply say thank you. “I didn’t ask you to do that,” he stated, but there was no malice in it.

“I know. I wanted to.” You shrugged casually because it was truly nothing to you. But apparently, Joel didn’t see it that way.

The truck sat idle in the parking lot. He said nothing for several seconds, which felt far too long. It was dark—the only illumination provided was the distant street lamps outside, but you swore you could see the corners of his mouth turn up. Not quite a smile, but something. And it made you feel so victorious that you thought about mentioning it, about making some snide remark, but know better by now.

Instead, you teased him. “At this rate, I might as well pack a bag and stay the night here.”

Joel scoffed but turned the key in the ignition anyway. “You got a mouth on you, girl. That’s for damn sure.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t sent me away yet. So there must be something you like about it, right?”

He doesn’t agree but he doesn’t deny it, either. Still, sarcasm dripped off his tongue as he said, “Somethin’ like that.”

When he turned the radio up, a rock ballad played and put you at ease. You start to realize that these quiet moments with him are the lightest part of your days. Nothing to think about but the way the cool wind hit your face and the sound of his soft humming from behind the wheel. It’s simple and good and you feel safe.

When he pulled into the trailer park a short while later, you almost hated to see it end. For a split second, you debated inviting him over in an attempt to extend your time together. But you knew that after the day he’s had, he probably didn’t want the company. So instead, you gathered your things and hopped out of the truck. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Hang on a sec.”

You paused with your hand on the passenger door. “Yeah?”

Joel hesitated. He opened his mouth to speak, but all he managed was, “Uh..” His eyes darted everywhere but yours. The dashboard, the steering wheel, his hands - everywhere but you.

He’s nervous, you realized. Uneasy. You tried to comfort him. “What is it?”

“I, uh…I was just wonderin’ if, I don’t know. You wanna… split it with me?” He pointed to the takeout container. “Or you could have a drink, or…do you drink?”

Your heart was doing somersaults behind your sternum. A girlish giggle left you despite your attempts to hide your excitement. Through a face-splitting grin, you asked, “Like a date?”

“Christ,” he sneered. “You know what? I take it back. Never-”

“I’m kidding!” Your laughter filled the cab of the truck. “I’m just kidding, Joel, I swear. Of course, I’ll come in for a drink.”

He looked hesitant, and at first, you thought it was because of how you’d been pulling his leg all night. By the time you had made it inside of his trailer, you realized that he was probably a little nervous on account of the mess in his living room.

Empty bud light bottles covered the surface of the side table next to his couch. An ashtray haphazardly placed on the kitchen counter was long overdue to be emptied, ash and half-smoked cigarettes threatening to spill over. Next to it were a couple of prescription bottles, the print too small for you to make out what they were supposed to be treating.

No matter how you felt about the place, you understood how difficult it all must’ve been for Joel. It wasn’t dirty or anything, just unkempt, a man overwhelmed by grief too distracted to focus on cleaning.

“It’s not much to see, but feel free to make yourself at home,” Joel said, slipping past you at the front door to place the bag of food down on the kitchen counter. You watched him momentarily, taking in the normalcy of his routine.

His movements to wash his hands before eating, the clatter of plates being pulled out of the dishwasher. Watching him in his element relaxed you. You tried to envision what it was like in the home when Sarah was still alive, filling the space with her innocent laughter.

“I won’t bite,” Joel spoke, pulling you out of your own head. Your gaze refocused, a quiet sense of fulfillment washing over you as you watched him for a fleeting second.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” you chirped back, toeing out of your work shoes and heading over to his leather couch. A knitted blanket thrown across the leather prevented the back of your legs from pressing against the cold material, and you were grateful.

“Do you get pleasure outta givin’ me a hard time or something?” Joel asked, plopping next to you. He slid a plate over to your side of the coffee table, pulling the table forward slightly so you’d be able to reach it easier. He placed two beers on the table, too, and cracked the seal of yours. It’s such a small but gentlemanly thing to do, and you try not to think too hard about how it makes your heart swell.

You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until he unwrapped the bag and split the food between the two of you, your stomach growling in response.

“I just like seeing you squirm,” you joked, noticing how Joel shook his head and snorted under his breath. Both of you ate together, quietly but comfortably.

You were sure that Joel spent most of his nights like this, in his living room with the TV flashing light across the walls of the house. It made you feel good that you were there to change his routine so he wouldn’t have to be alone.

The longer that time passed and the less food on your plate created an odd sense of pressure, that you were running out of time to pull something new out of Joel. Being in his home was an accomplishment on its own, but you still had a challenge with yourself to learn even more.

“Do you wanna, uh,” you began to speak, picking at one of your fries to fill the awkward space, “y’know… talk about earlier?”

“Nope,” he replied without hesitation, which you probably should’ve expected. Your pout was uncontrollable, discouraged by his instant lack of vulnerability. But you weren’t going to force him to talk, because he’d for sure shut down.

“Not to be cheesy or anything, but you’re pretty decent to be around, once you stopped being an asshole all the time,” you said, finishing the final bite of your fry. “If you ever need to talk about shit, I’m probably the best option you got here. Kathy tells everyone’s business, so.”

Joel actually chuckled at that, a deep, rumbling sound that made your gut twist. “I didn’t plan on talkin’ to anybody about anything, much less Kathy. But thanks.”

You nodded, a pang of disappointment flickering through your abdomen.

That night, you thanked him for the company and he promised to meet you in the afternoon right on time. The same routine you’ve had all week.

You and Joel get good at routines. Because the next night when you brought him dinner again, he didn’t even ask if you’d like to eat with him. He just said, “Picked up some sodas earlier. Figured you might want that instead of beer.”

And just like that, it became a nightly thing. The cooks at the bar don’t even ask what you want any more, they simply have the food finished by the time you’re ready to meet Joel in the parking lot. You had even occasionally fallen asleep in his living room, the comforting sound of the TV humming and Joel’s even breathing lulling you to sleep.

He always made sure to throw a blanket over you and quietly slip into his room, never waking you or forcing you to leave. It was an unspoken rule.

So, due to your growing interest in Joel and alleviating some of his stress, you decided to take a leap. One morning you’d woken up on Joel’s couch after falling asleep there the night before. Joel wasn’t home, which wasn’t unusual since he sometimes picked up odd jobs at the mechanic's shop in town to pay the bills.

It was the perfect opportunity to clean his house. You weren’t sure how he was going to feel about it, but you were only going to take out the trash and leave everything else as it was. You didn’t need him hollering at you for moving his shit around.

You had a good four hours to just clean out the place, and Jesus, you needed it. It appeared that he didn’t have any other cleaning products besides bleach and dish soap, which you couldn’t really use to get some old stains out of the carpet. It had taken you an hour of rifling through your own stuff to get the correct products and supplies to make a dent.

By the time you finished a couple hours later, you had three trash bags full of random newspapers, beer cans, and whatever other miscellaneous stuff you were sure Joel wouldn’t be upset to part with. Surprisingly, you hadn’t seen anything belonging to Sarah, no pictures hanging on the wall, no toys, nothing that indicated that anyone besides Joel had lived there.

That was until you’d decided to step into the room towards the back of the trailer. Joel’s bedroom was hardly used, his bed made and room clean, indicating that he probably spent most of his nights on the couch, so you didn’t bother cleaning that space. You were, however, curious about the spare room.

As soon as you’d opened it, you knew why you couldn’t find anything of Sarah’s. It was like a museum, a room stuck in time. Light pink paint covered the wall, the late afternoon sun streaming in colorful rays through the sheer purple curtains. The bed was made, without a wrinkle in sight, with a little teddy bear tucked in, as if it was keeping the bed warm for Sarah’s return.

You stepped in a little, taking in the small details; the photos of Joel and Sarah hugging on the wall, a little caboodle makeup box, and nail polishes lined up against the dresser. What truly broke your heart was the oxygen tank that was placed next to her bed, still attached to the mask.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” spoke a voice from behind you, almost causing your body to jump out of its skin. You whipped around to see an absolutely fuming Joel watching you with narrowed eyes. You stammered, quickly trying to come up with some sort of excuse.

“I was cleaning and I thought, I mean I was thinking that-“

Joel quickly approached you, his face only a mere breath away from yours. You were too anxious to even notice the closeness because you knew he was beyond pissed. You don’t think he was even this mad when he was fighting with Tommy.

“I don’t know why you think that you’re entitled to comin’ into my life, touchin’ my shit, steppin’ foot into this room, but guess what? You’re not.” He spat, stepping even closer to you. You felt tiny, like a bug ready to be squashed by a foot.

“You don’t mean shit to me. Just because your life is fucked up doesn’t mean I need you to try to come into mine and save me. I don’t wanna be saved. Now get the hell outta my house,” he spoke, his voice unwavering and scarily calm. It took every ounce of strength inside of you not to cry, not to shout, because you knew he didn’t mean it. You had crossed his invisible line, despite not doing it intentionally.

But you weren’t strong enough to control your emotions, and eventually, the pressure of Joel’s angry words left your eyes watering. Though your jaw was clenched and your face wasn’t giving much away, Joel easily saw past the facade and noticed the tears welling up in your eyes.

And he scoffed. A quick laugh, right in your face, at seeing your tears.

“Christ, you gonna cry now? Upset that you don’t got no daddy here to comfort you, gotta take out all your trauma on me? Fuckin’ pathetic.”

Your tears turned from hurt, into angry, hot streams rolling down your face.

“Fuck you, Joel.”

You could feel your blood pumping in your head, so angry that you could break something. He was lucky that you made your way straight out of his house instead of grabbing all of the trash bags and pouring them right back onto the floor.

You knew that he was self-destructing, that he was pushing you away because you were too good for him, but it didn’t make his words hurt any less. He wasn’t wrong. You did take interest in him because he was broken, similar to yourself. Despite that, it didn’t hurt any less.

As painful as it was to believe, you began to wonder if he had fooled you.

Maybe all that remained of Joel Miller was the worst part of him.

[part two]

#joel miller #pearlessance #joel miller x reader #ao3 fanfic #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller tlou #angst #the last of us hbo #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #trailer park joel miller #brat taming #tlou fanfiction #tommy tlou #tommy miller makes an appearance #dividers by adornedwithlight

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sansaorgana · 2 months ago

Text

— MOTHER'S LOVE

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — After arriving on Giedi Prime to marry Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, you find out the secret his family was hiding from you – he has a daughter. You quickly realise he has no idea about fatherhood but you step up to take care of the little girl.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — OH MY GOOOOD Anyone still remember me and my fics?! 🤣 This one is a bit different because it includes Feyd as a single dad lmao However, it's not super fluffy either. They're Harkonnens, after all, and the Reader is not exactly a good person either. 🙈 I googled some canon info on Dune Wiki but I didn't follow the events 1:1 (as usual).

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, Feyd's traumatic past mentioned, Feyd being a kinda neglecting father (he cares in his own way and don't worry, there is no actual abuse), Lady Margot is 💀 and it was no accident, Reader is power hungry and greedy (and she adapts to the Harkonnens quickly)

WORD COUNT — 7, 290

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

MOTHER'S LOVE

You didn’t have many expectations before arriving on Giedi Prime. You knew that your husband-to-be was a brutal man but you were old enough to be aware of the fact that most men were this way. You were quite excited in a way because you knew what your union would bring and what your union would eventually make you – an Empress.

Your father had been a close friend of the Emperor and he had been helping him to prevent the war with the Harkonnens who were holding too much power and resources for their own good. However, after a few incidents in which the Emperor had chosen not to show your father proper respect – your father had drastically changed the side of the conflict. He was a wealthy and powerful man as well and connecting your family with the Harkonnens was granting them to win the upcoming war with the Imperial forces quite easily. It was a matter of time when it would happen.

You were supposed to marry Baron Harkonnen’s nephew and heir, which would make you an Empress one day. It was a vicious union; born out of greed for power instead of any love or affection. In fact, you hadn’t even met Feyd-Rautha personally but you had heard rumours about him.

As it had been mentioned – you knew he was brutal. But you also knew all men were. Your own father had turned his back on the Emperor so suddenly and treacherously, after centuries of the families working together. Had it not been brutal as well? Brutality came in many different shapes and forms.

Your father’s wealth and army were helpful but not significant enough for him to dictate any conditions. For his help, the Harkonnens had offered only one important thing – you becoming the future Empress. However, all the glory would be theirs and your father would remain nothing but a close friend, expanding his wealth freely. You often wondered how much the Emperor must have had disrespected your father for him to choose the Harkonnens to be his new overlords. However, you did not complain.

You wanted to be the Empress.

But in order to become her, you had to survive the Harkonnens and Giedi Prime first.

You were greeted with all the honours on this unfriendly, deathly planet. However, your husband was not a part of the greeting committee. Neither was his uncle, whose health was decreasing lately. Many suspected he would die soon, which would make you a Baroness much quicker than expected, however you were not sure about your future husband’s approach towards your union. If he wasn’t so keen on marrying you, he could change his mind the moment he no longer had to listen to his uncle. That was why you hoped to get married before Baron Harkonnen would die – to secure your position on Giedi Prime as Feyd-Rautha’s lawful wife.

People who greeted you on Giedi Prime were mostly servants of different ranks. You could distinguish them by robes but they all looked very similar if not identical. They were sickly pale, some of them had pitch-black eyes and they were all bald. The servants of the lowest rank looked like clones and you suspected that was what they truly were indeed. They had their necks marked with tattoos indicating their low status.

Servants of higher ranks looked more proper – their clothes were nice, their facial features were more natural and they actually talked to you, meanwhile the low rank servants remained silent and avoided your gaze.

You were taken to your new chambers inside the huge and black fortress in the heart of the planet. You were given a whole wing and a huge bedroom that had not been occupied in decades – ever since Baron Harkonnen’s mother had died.

“Won’t I be quite lonely here?” You asked a male servant who was showing you around. You didn’t like him already because something about his creepy smile and observing eyes was sending shivers down your spine.

“What do you mean, my Lady?” He tilted his bald head slightly and blinked a few times as if he was a robot experiencing a glitch in his system.

“The whole wing of the fortress is all for me?”

“Well, you have guards and servants here, my Lady,” he pointed out.

“They are not… equal companions, are they?” You explained, trying not to sound too cruel. But servants on Giedi Prime probably found your statement to be extremely gentle. They were used to much worse treatment from their masters.

“You are not the only inhabitant of this part of the fortress, my Lady,” the man told you, a little nervously.

You furrowed your brows.

“Care to explain?” You tried to hide your insecurity by looking around the room and pretending to admire the black furniture.

“Countess Marie has her room nearby,” the servant explained and you smiled slightly when you found out there was, after all, some female Harkonnen around who would perhaps be a friend to you.

Your first thought was that she was Count Rabban’s wife – your future husband’s sister-in-law.

“Oh! There is some countess?” You asked, excitedly. “How old is she?”

“She…” the servant took a deep breath in. “She is six, my Lady.”

“Six?” You asked, your smile dropping as your heart froze inside your chest. “She’s… She’s a child?”

Many awful things you had heard of the Harkonnens but child-brides had never been any part of those stories.

The servant must have immediately realised what you were thinking.

“Oh! No, no, my Lady, she is not a wife…!” He assured you. “She is… Family,” he explained, mysteriously. “Either way, I shall leave you now to rest after long and exhausting travel. I will send a maid for you later to bring you dinner and keep you company, my Lady,” the servant nodded and left the room as the rest of the servants left behind him. The guards stayed behind the heavy doors to make sure you were safe… and to make sure you were no danger either.

You took a deep breath in as you looked around. Everything seemed to be so big and scary on this planet but you promised yourself that you would survive and adapt to it and you didn’t plan on changing that.

After dinner, when your maid left you to sleep, you sneaked out of the bedroom to walk around a little and to explore more of the fortress. You promised the confused guards you’d be back soon enough but you also asked them to search for you if you wouldn’t come back in a long time since there was a big chance of you getting lost. They agreed to it and you walked away, very proud of yourself.

As you were walking down the dark and empty corridor, after a short while you felt somebody’s presence around you. A pair of eyes following you around, which made you swallow thickly. Your heart pounded fast but as you looked behind you, no one seemed to be there. You thought it was your brain playing tricks on you in this unfriendly environment and you tried to remember that the Harkonnens were your new family and they would not hurt you.

Gathering the courage again, you calmed down and continued your walk when – suddenly and out of the darkness – you heard a giggle.

A childish, girly giggle with a hint of malice despite its innocent sound. You froze, widened your eyes and looked around.

“I’ve imagined you differently,” a girly voice announced and when your ears found the source of it, you turned around to face it.

The girl turned on the orb of light she was holding. But it was not in front of you – it was behind you. You turned around once more and she chuckled, visibly proud of herself for playing tricks on you.

She had to be Countess Marie the servant had mentioned earlier – she was around six years old and she surely had Harkonnen blood in her. Her eyes were bright blue and her skin was snow-white. However, she was not bald – she had long and blond hair, which was braided. Her clothes were black and she had a small dagger attached to her hip.

“Countess Marie, I assume,” you extended your hand towards her in a friendly manner. “I am (Y/N) of the House (Y/L/N),” you introduced yourself.

“I know who you are,” Marie shrugged her arms and allowed the orb of light to float around her freely now as she took the dagger out and began to play with it.

It made you feel uneasy as you retreated your hand which she hadn’t shaken. She wouldn’t actually hurt you, would she?

“O-oh, yeah?” You asked. “Well, that’s nice… You see, I had no idea about you until a few hours ago,” you cracked a smile.

“I’m not significant. I’m a bastard,” the girl shrugged her arms again. “And I promised not to bother you but I was curious,” she admitted.

“Promised not to bother me?” You were surprised. “Honey, who did you promise such a thing and why?”

Honey, you had called her – despite her demeanour, she was still a little girl and it was difficult to see her as anything else.

She didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, she ignored that.

“I promised my daddy and grandpa not to bother you,” she explained.

“Oh, I see,” you nodded, assuming that she treated the Baron as her grandfather. “Are you Count Rabban’s daughter?” You decided to ask more openly now.

She widened her eyes at your question.

“No-o,” she shook her head and hid her dagger. “I’m a Harkonnen,” she told you, proudly.

You began to understand the situation and you couldn’t help but grow angry – how could they hide this fact from you?!

“Well, darling, either way, it is late already and you should be in bed,” you extended your hand towards her again but she took a step back. You retreated your hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s simply not a good time for little girls to be outside their bedrooms.”

“Daddy says I can go to bed at any time I want as long as I am up early for my training,” she explained and then she looked down. “Or… Are you changing the rules now?”

“I am not changing any rules between you and your daddy, it is not my right to do so,” you explained, softly. “However, I would sleep better knowing that you are safe in your bed,” you said.

“What do you care?” Countess Marie asked.

“How could I not, angel? Come on, let’s go to bed,” you nodded your head and she eventually agreed although she also rolled her eyes.

She showed you where her chambers were and you watched her walk past her guards and back into her room. After that, you went back to your bedroom as well but you couldn’t sleep at night.

How could they hide from you that your husband had a daughter?

You demanded to see your husband-to-be after breakfast, although you were advised against by many servants. Mornings were for Feyd-Rautha’s combat training and he should not be interrupted.

However, you could not wait for the meeting. You demanded to be taken to him and the guards had to follow your command although you could see they were not happy about it.

You rushed behind them through the corridors full of servants and Harkonnen noblemen that were turning their heads to take a better look at you. They were curious about you because you were a foreigner, a daughter of the infamous and treacherous Lord but you also stood out with your normal looks that seemed to be exotic on Giedi Prime.

When you arrived at the training grounds, you crossed the nearly magical border between the interior and exterior. Now, you were exposed to the radioactive sunlight, which caused the world around you to be black and white. You knew that the fortress was shielded from the deathly amount of radiation but it was not making anything outside colourful.

The very first sound that greeted you was an animalistic roar coming out of a warrior’s throat. He was standing in the middle of the courtyard with a dagger in his hand as a muscular slave-warrior in front of him kneeled down and fell over after his own throat had been sliced open. The victorious warrior raised his hand to show off the bloody knife and a smaller, clean knife raised behind him. You squinted your eyes and spotted Countess Marie cheering and mimicking the man in the middle.

“That is Feyd-Rautha, my Lady,” the servant whispered to you.

Your heart skipped a beat. Your future husband looked terrifying, especially in black-and-white. His eyes were snake-like, his head was bald and his body was very muscular yet flexible. He spotted you and after a while of hesitation, he walked towards you quite angrily, which caused all the servants to take a few steps back but you stayed in your position, refusing to show fear so openly.

The closer he was, the more handsome you were realising he seemed to be. It was nearly unnatural for a Harkonnen to be so attractive but here he stood – right in front of you. Young, healthy, strong and attractive in a mysterious and fascinating way. He was a perfect warrior – of that you were sure.

But would he be a perfect Emperor?

“Why are you interrupting my training?” He asked. His voice surprised you – it sounded very deep and unsettling.

“I couldn’t wait to meet you,” you answered.

“You are interrupting my training,” he pointed out.

“Surely, you can take a little break to meet your future wife?” You cracked a smile.

Feyd-Rautha seemed to be confused. Finally, his little girl emerged from behind him with a big grin on her face.

“Daddy, don’t be so grim! Lady (Y/N) is nice!” She announced and you breathed out of relief. For some reason, this little menace seemed to like you already.

“Oh, yeah?” Feyd-Rautha tilted his head at you and smirked. “Well, nice little things don’t last long on Giedi Prime, haven’t I told you?”

“Your daughter seems to be doing well, na-baron,” you dared to say and he squinted his eyes.

“I don’t raise her to be nice. And you should not bother with her at all anyway,” he explained and sighed a little. “Nevermind, you have interrupted my training already. Let’s go and talk somewhere,” he pointed at the doors leading back inside the fortress.

“Can I go with you?” Countess Marie asked.

“No,” Feyd-Rautha told her. “You go back to your room and attend your classes.”

“But–”

Feyd didn’t bother to listen to that, though. He walked past his daughter.

“How about you coming to my chambers after your classes and we’ll get to know each other better then?” You asked the girl with a smile.

“I can’t visit other people alone in their chambers except for my daddy,” she widened her eyes. “He doesn’t allow that. It’s dangerous,” she added and you furrowed your brows.

He seemed not to care much about this little girl but then, when it came to certain aspects, he was nearly overprotective.

“I will talk to him and if he still doesn’t allow it, we’ll invite some servants as well, how about that?” You asked her and she nodded with a smile.

You reached out to caress her face but she flinched, so you took a step back again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s fine but he doesn’t allow strangers to touch me,” she explained. “Unless they’re servants who help me change clothes and all that – unless it’s necessary, you see.”

“I see,” you nodded. “Well, see you later, Marie.”

“See you later, Lady (Y/N).”

After that, you hurried back inside the fortress to enter it through the same doors your husband-to-be had entered a few moments earlier. In fact, they were still open because Feyd was holding them for you with an annoyed expression.

“Sorry,” you smiled awkwardly at him when you finally were both inside the fortress. Here, where colours were visible, he didn’t seem to gain much more colours himself. His skin seemed to be a bit less white and his eyes were the same shade as Marie’s but that was it. He was still mostly black-and-white.

“You don’t have to befriend her,” Feyd-Rautha announced. “She is a bastard,” he explained. “If we don’t produce any heirs, she might become my na-baroness but I don’t think this will happen. Noblemen here wouldn’t accept a female leader anyway,” he shrugged his arms.

“How can you say that?” You asked him. “Let me be clear, I do not know much of you or your history but I do not accept the way you treat your daughter or me. Why is she not significant? Why was her existence hidden from me? Are women only objects here? Pawns? I am aware we hold less power on Giedi Prime but I was not told that women have no rights here,” you crossed your arms.

“Do not be daft,” Feyd-Rautha rolled his eyes and leaned on the black marble pillar inside the hall. “After my seventeenth birthday a Bene Gesserit witch used me to manipulate the bloodlines. It is an accident I barely remember,” Feyd-Rautha said. “I don’t like being out of control and at that moment I had none. She became pregnant with my child and wanted to raise Marie as another Bene Gesserit witch. Some sisters of that order are more loyal to the Harkonnens than their convent – that’s how I found out about my daughter. I killed her mother and her husband. I wanted to kill the girl, too, but I took her in to raise her as a warrior instead. After all, she’s my blood,” he shrugged his arms.

Both him and Marie tended to shrug their arms a lot – showing off how little they cared about literally everything. It was quite… adorable.

“You changed your mind because she is your child,” you pointed out, pretending not to be moved by the story. In fact, it terrified you that he admitted so openly to murder the mother of his child, although you were aware of the rumour that he had killed his own mother.

It would be very easy for him to kill you off, too, eventually…

“She is,” Feyd-Rautha nodded. “Us, Harkonnens, we have different ways of raising children than you, that’s it.”

“I don’t want to interfere or change your ways,” you explained. “But I refuse to pretend she doesn’t exist. As you said, she is a bastard and a girl, therefore she is no threat to me or any children I will bear,” you announced and he raised his eyebrows as if he was a little surprised and impressed.

As usual – he shrugged his arms.

“Can I spend time with her alone? Can I touch her?” You asked, more carefully now. “I feel like this child is not being hugged enough.”

“Harkonnens don’t hug,” Feyd growled.

“I just don’t understand why–”

“You can,” he interrupted you. “As my future wife, you can but the rule exists for a reason. It is to protect her and I don’t want you to extend the exception to other people as well.”

“Protect her from what?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“My uncle,” he answered and a long silence occurred.

“I see…” You took a deep breath in. “I… Well, it was nice to meet you, finally,” you admitted. “I must go now, the wedding takes place in a week from now and I have lots of preparations.”

“Don’t lock your bedroom doors in the evening,” he whispered and you raised your eyebrow at him. “I’ll claim you tonight,” he said casually.

“E-excuse me?” You asked.

“You heard me well, pet,” he smirked.

“The wedding takes place in a–”

“The fuck do I care about the wedding? You’re mine now,” Feyd shrugged his arms and walked away, leaving you scared and confused.

What if he claims you and then throws you away, accusing you of being spoiled and unfit for marriage? That would be a disaster.

Marie came to your chambers in the afternoon and you watched her go through your things with a smile on your lips. Perhaps it was a little rude of her to be so nosy but you were simply glad there was at least one ally in this fortress that you had. And, for some reason, despite her odd nature, you found her rather amusing and adorable.

“I’m glad your father allowed us to spend time together,” you said.

“Yes, it is now only you and him I am allowed to be alone with,” she pointed out. “It’s as if you were my mummy,” she said and your smile dropped when you remembered what he did to hers.

Did she know about it?

“My mother’s dead, you know?” She asked. “She was a bad person and daddy had to kill her.”

“I… I know,” you admitted. “Don’t you miss her?”

“I don’t remember her,” Marie shrugged her arms. “And she was a bad person. Bad people shouldn’t live,” she explained.

“Who defines bad, Marie?” You asked, curiously. After all, it was an odd thing to hear such a thing coming from a Harkonnen.

“Daddy does,” she nearly rolled her eyes, as if you were asking silly questions. “What is that?” She pointed at a white veil you had brought with yourself from your homeplanet.

“It’s for the wedding,” you explained.

“They’re going to laugh at you,” Marie chuckled. “Brides don’t wear such things here.”

“Oh? And what do they wear?” You asked.

“Different types of veils but not this… Whatever that is. And the colour is awful as well,” she pointed out.

“It’s lace, Marie. And it’s white,” you explained, patiently.

“White is a colour for servants,” she said and threw the veil away as you realised that, in fact, most white clothes you had seen on Giedi Prime were on the backs of servants.

“I don’t want people to laugh at me,” you admitted. “Will you help me?”

“Sure, I can. You’re going to be an Empress one day, you can’t look ridiculous!” Marie exclaimed and you chuckled. “What? You think I’m funny?” She asked.

“No, darling, I think you’re quite adorable,” you admitted and opened your arms.

She hesitantly approached you and you hugged her but she remained stiff as if she didn’t know what was happening. Perhaps Feyd was right and the Harkonnens didn’t hug.

“Why are you calling me these things?” She asked and you furrowed your brows. “Honey, darling, angel… I don’t understand,” Marie said.

“That’s how we address children where I am from,” you explained. “They’re nice things to say.”

“But I am not nice,” Marie protested and winced a little.

“Yes, you are, darling,” you assured her. “You’re a very nice little girl. A strong warrior, too, I am sure. But these two don’t have to contradict each other.”

“I would have to ask daddy about that,” Marie sighed and went back to looking through your things.

You watched her with a smile although there was a sense of dread rising with each given moment as well since you could feel the time passing and inevitably bringing you closer to the nighttime.

Feyd-Rautha was incredibly precise. In fact, a week later, on the day of your wedding ceremony, you were already carrying his son – the unnaturally advanced Harkonnen technology was able to confirm that on the night before.

You were both shocked and impressed by that and also by the fact Feyd was announcing that to everyone already during the wedding ceremonies and all those noble Harkonnens were cheering proudly instead of accusing you of infamy and adultery.

You wore red for that day – and so did little Marie. You were holding her hand by the wedding table and she was telling you funny facts about the scary Harkonnen noblemen surrounding you, which made you feel less intimidated by them. It was obvious to everyone that she had grown attached to you very quickly and everyone wondered why but you didn’t need to be a genius to know. You were coming from a planet where children were being treated well, like children instead of small adults being trained, and you knew they needed attention and affection to feel safe and loved. You were giving Marie all the things no one had ever been giving to her.

Whatever Feyd was thinking of that you had no idea. He was mostly excited about his son and heir you were pregnant with. As a husband he was treating you in a similar way he treated his daughter – he was rather indifferent but showed that he cared at times.

Oddly, you weren’t scared of him – you could sense that he was treating you like a business partner in a sense. After all, the two of you would rule the whole empire together one day. You had to work it out somehow.

During your wedding party, he left you for a while for a meeting with his uncle and a strange Bene Gesserit woman that came from an outer world. You thought she was a usual wedding guest but apparently she also visited to deal with some business here and you tried to hide the fact that it annoyed you how you were left out of this meeting.

“What do you think this might be about?” You asked Marie.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged her arms. “I’m technically a Bene Gesserit, too, you know?”

“But you’re not being trained, are you?”

“No, daddy doesn’t allow that. They’re bad people,” she shrugged her arms. “Can we eat more cake?”

“Absolutely!” You smiled widely.

Two weeks later you were in Marie’s chambers, reading history books to her. Bored in the fortress and not being given any real duties because of your blessed state, you replaced half of Marie’s tutors and you were teaching her yourself whatever you were able to.

She seemed to be quite distracted on that day, though. She was lazily playing with her dagger and looking out of the window as you were reading to her about other planets.

“How do colours look like outside Giedi Prime?” She asked suddenly. “I mean, outside. If I were on a different planet,” she explained.

“You don’t remember?” You asked and put the book down. Marie shook her head. “Well, it’s very colourful. Depends on a planet, of course, some are mostly green, some mostly yellow, some mostly blue. Some have lots of forests, some have lots of water and some have lots of sand.”

“Why?”

“It depends on temperatures and minerals that can be found on those planets. When our ancestors were colonising the universe, they were shaping the planets to inhabit them but there were limits within each of them. For example, you cannot make Giedi Prime look like Arrakis because of how different their suns are,” you explained. “Why are you asking, darling? Would you like to go and see a different planet? I might convince your daddy to let us leave to my homeplanet after the baby is born. Would you like to go with me?”

Marie shrugged her arms and looked away again.

“Will my brother look more like you or my daddy?” She asked.

“I certainly hope he will be a mix of both. Like you are a mix, are you not, honey? You have beautiful hair,” you smiled at her and caressed the blonde braid.

“I hope he has hair, too,” Marie smiled but her eyes remained sad. “Do you think he would like me?”

“Would? I’m sure he will adore you, Marie!” You caressed her cheek and her lower lip trembled. “What is it?”

“They haven’t told you,” she sniffled and you shook your head, feeling your heart sink deeper into your chest. “That Bene Gesserit lady who came when you married my daddy… She was here for me. They will take me soon with them and train me at their convent.”

“But you said your daddy didn’t want that,” you gasped.

“Well, now he has you and the baby,” she shrugged her arms but it was obvious that she cared.

She cared very much.

“Marie, I won’t let them take you away,” you cupped her face and looked deep into her bright eyes, so identical to her father’s. Yet so different – they weren’t so cold and empty like his.

Now, they were scared.

“How?” She asked, sadly. “You have no real power here,” she reminded you and it felt like a slap that even a child could see the truth about your position.

Usually, you were only seeing Feyd in the evenings inside the chambers you were now sharing with him as his wife. He hadn’t particularly asked for it but you had just moved in there and he hadn’t said anything negative about it.

You were sitting up in your bed when he entered and took a look at you before starting to take off his gear.

“How’s my son?” He asked.

“Is that all you care about?” You asked, angrily. Your unusual answer surprised him, so he turned his head around with furrowed brows.

“What else should I care about?” He inquired.

“You have a daughter as well,” you reminded him and he sighed, looking away again and going back to undressing himself. “I know the way she was conceived was far from ideal but it is not her fault.”

“I have told you not to bother yourself with her,” he mumbled out.

“What?!” You jumped out of the bed and crossed your arms. “If the child I’m carrying was a girl, would you treat her the same?”

“It would be different,” Feyd rolled his eyes. “I didn’t want Marie to spend time with you because my uncle said she could ruin our union. Apparently, he wasn’t wrong but in the opposite way. She’s not ruining our union because you hate her. She’s ruining it because you started to think you’re her mother,” Feyd growled angrily. “But she has no mother.”

“Because you killed her!” You were growing frustrated with his logic. “And now you’re sending her away! You said you hated Bene Gesserit witches! You told Marie that they were bad people and now you’re sending her away to them!”

“Has she told you?” Feyd was annoyed by that as he stepped out of his gear, wearing nothing but his underwear now. He never bothered with wearing pyjamas to bed, so he just passed you by and laid on the bed with a relaxed sigh, as if you were not in the middle of an argument.

The funny fact about him was that he couldn’t really argue – he wasn’t used to people disagreeing with him. Not people who were of lower status than him at least. And, as his wife, you unfortunately had a lower status because you were a woman.

“I don’t want Marie to go. She has to stay,” you stood above him with your arms still crossed.

“I am her father, the decision is mine. I didn’t want to send her there but they came here, they explained they needed her. She’s a part of their program. If we don’t listen to them, Bene Gesserit might turn their backs on us and we need their support if we’re going to take over the imperial throne,” Feyd explained and reached his hand out to touch your belly a little. “The medic said you shouldn’t get too emotional in your state, so calm down.”

But him telling you to calm down had an opposite effect, obviously.

“She’s not a part of a program!” You slapped his hand away, watching his eyes darken with anger. “She’s a child, Feyd! And fuck those Bene Gesserit witches! Fuck them, we don’t need them!”

“We need a religious institution to control the masses,” Feyd’s jaw clenched.

“Then we’ll create our own religion to replace theirs. We’ll turn people against them. I don’t want to be an Empress of an Empire I don’t have full control of. The Bene Gesserit are too dangerous and too independent.”

“Not if Marie becomes their Reverend Mother one day,” Feyd smirked.

Oh, so they already had a plan. The Baron must have come up with it. Men loved to plan out women’s whole lives like that.

“If I was her, I wouldn’t help us even a bit. I would hate us for sending me away,” you spat out, angrily.

“Such a vengeful little thing, just like your father, hm? Treacherous little snake, you would turn your back on everyone just for the sake of it,” Feyd moved up and now his face was so close to yours that your noses were nearly brushing each other.

“And you’re any different?” You asked but you answered before he could. “Yes, you are. You are different because I could never be so indifferent towards my own child. She loves you, how can you not see that? She calls you daddy, she mimics you, she wants to be like you. She trains with you, she cheers when you’re in the arena, she’s so proud of you. She believes every single fucking thing you say to her and some of those are malicious lies. Do you even realise how lucky you are to have her in your life?” You asked and kept looking at him with anger.

Feyd went silent, though, and you could see his facial features softened a little.

“It is not something I’ve been trained for,” he admitted.

“What?”

“Being a father,” he admitted. “I’ve been trained to kill and endure pain. To rule and obey my uncle. That is all I know. I always assumed that my future wife would raise my children. I don’t know how to do that.”

And in that moment you pitied him but you knew he would hate your pity, so you tried not to show it.

“I know,” you reached out to cup his face and he flinched just like Marie had flinched in the beginning. However, he allowed you to touch him and you cracked a smile while caressing his cheeks softly. “I know, darling, but I am here now and I can be a mother to her. I want to be a mother to her. If you send her away now, I will never forgive you. And neither will she,” you whispered.

“Some things I cannot control. They demand her to go with them,” he swallowed thickly, looking up at you with mesmerised eyes. You enjoyed that feeling.

“They demand? They demand you? You’re Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. You can tell them to go fuck themselves. If you don’t, that will mean that you won’t be able to protect our children either. I thought I married a strong man who would lead a whole universe one day. A ruthless leader, no compromise,” you caressed his cheeks some more, knowing perfectly well that you were manipulating him in the process.

“You’re different than I’ve expected,” Feyd confessed, his lips now brushing yours in a way that was making you feel tingly.

“I’ve heard that before,” you smiled and leaned in to finally close the gap between you two with a passionate kiss. You hoped he would listen to you.

Only time would tell.

You were with Marie in the courtyard when you saw the mysterious ship arrive and land nearby the fortress. You recognised it immediately – it belonged to the Bene Gesserit order.

Marie looked up at you with big, scared eyes. She could be a bold little girl with a dagger attached to her hip but in times like this she was just a terrified and lonely little baby. You didn’t want her to feel this way. Not now and not ever.

“I won’t let them take you,” you mouthed out but she looked down, unsurely.

You held her hand and squeezed it tightly to walk her back inside and go to her room but on your way you were stopped by a servant telling you that Countess Marie was expected in the great hall where Baron Harkonnen resided.

You nodded at the servant and changed your route to go to the place where they were expecting Marie. However, you wouldn’t leave her alone there. No, you would go with her and try to defend her as much as you could.

The room was huge, dark and nearly empty. The Baron was floating above everyone maliciously, connected to all sorts of machines and devices that were increasing in size with each given day. Speaking of his days – they were surely counted. Both you and Feyd couldn’t wait for the one when he would simply die.

Feyd was there as well, with his hands crossed behind his back. He looked nervous when you and Marie arrived as some old Bene Gesserit woman was standing there and staring at the little girl.

“There she is, Marie Fenring, Margot’s daughter,” the Bene Gesserit greeted her and Marie clinged to the black skirt of your dress.

“She’s a Harkonnen,” Feyd pointed out.

“Such a shame your wife is carrying a son. Your combination was unexpected and unplanned in our program but it certainly is interesting,” the woman continued. “Such varieties can enrich our system.”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, rudely, as you put your hand on Marie’s shoulder.

“Forgive the young ones,” Baron Harkonnen coughed as he mumbled out. “My nephew and his wife need a lesson or two about manners,” he tried to laugh. “Of course, you can take the little one with you. Let’s get it over with.”

“No, she cannot. I do not allow that,” you took a step ahead to hide Marie behind you.

“You know I don’t need permission, na-baroness,” the Bene Gesserit smirked. “Don’t make me use The Voice on you when you’re in such a blessed state,” she added with irony.

“If you do that, I’ll kill you,” Feyd barked at her. “If you touch my wife or my daughter, you’re dead,” he threatened.

“Calm down, boy!” His uncle scolded him.

“I am far too important and powerful to be scared of you. Do you think you can kill off a Bene Gesserit sister like me with no consequences?” She laughed at him as she raised her eyebrow cockily.

“That is exactly what I can do as your Emperor,” he tilted his head.

“You’re not one yet, are you? And you won’t be one without our help,” the woman was growing angry but her frustration was aimed at your husband instead of you now.

“We don’t need your help,” you moved closer to Feyd and Marie reached out her little hand towards her daddy. He didn’t hold it, so she clung to his suit with it as she was holding onto your skirt with the other. “My husband and I do not need help from anyone and the days of your sisterhood are being counted just as much as the Baron’s or the Emperor’s. Nobody is going to tell us what we can or have to do. The new order is coming and it’s coming soon,” you stated.

“Such insolence! My Baron, have you heard that?!” The Bene Gesserit looked behind her to look at your husband’s uncle but he was coughing uncontrollably and the servants were already helping him to float out of the room.

She realised that Baron Harkonnen wasn’t in power anymore. You straightened your back when she laid her eyes back at you.

“You do not have friends amongst the Harkonnens anymore,” Feyd said, calmly.

“Unless you cooperate,” you added with a smile.

“Cooperate how?” She asked.

“Let’s start with not taking our daughter away,” you said without thinking and then you felt your cheeks heating up when you realised you had called Marie your daughter.

You hoped it wouldn't make the little Countess or her father angry.

“I see,” the Bene Gesserit woman nodded and clasped her hands. “You’ve adapted quickly. Not many people believed you would survive here but I was one of the few who knew your father’s true nature. We knew that if you were at least half a viper he is, you would adapt here very well.”

“Oh, thank you,” you gave her a fake, charming smile.

“I know that some of my sisters are more loyal to the Harkonnens than our cause,” the woman revealed with a mysterious smile as if she was threatening you with controversial secrets.

“I suggest befriending them then,” you nodded with a smile. “ Quickly, if I were you.”

She left after that, clearly uncomfortable. You could see how she was itching to use The Voice on you but she had to be terrified of Feyd’s threats.

When the heavy doors closed behind her, you felt Marie’s hold onto your skirt loosening. You looked down and realised that Feyd was holding her hand after all – you had no idea when he had begun squeezing it but it warmed your heart.

“Thank you…” Marie’s lower lip trembled.

“Harkonnens don’t cry,” Feyd scolded her.

“Yes, they do,” you crouched down and hugged little Marie. She wrapped her arms around you and you caressed her hair. “Little Harkonnen girls can do whatever they want,” you added and patted her back.

“As long as it’s something father and mother allow,” Feyd added and you cracked a smile. He seemed to be fine with you becoming Marie’s mother.

“Yes, as long as mummy and daddy approve,” you moved away a bit and fixed Marie’s hair.

“Will you really be my mummy?” Marie asked with eyes full of tears.

“Of course, honey. My sweet angel, my darling,” you kissed her cheeks.

“What if I become a bad person like my real mother?” She asked and you went silent for a while. You didn’t know what to say to that.

“You won’t,” Feyd put his hand on her shoulder. “You’re not her,” he assured her and she smiled.

A maid interrupted you all as she was looking for Marie because her tutor had been waiting for her. So, you wiped your girl’s cheeks from tears and sent her away with the maid so she could attend her class.

“What if she finds out the truth one day?” You asked Feyd.

“What truth?” He squinted his eyes.

“That her mother wasn’t exactly evil. That you didn’t have to kill her, it was just the fact that your ego was hurt so much because you had been used like thousands of noble men before you,” you teased and caressed your belly to remind him of your pregnancy in case he would get angry.

“Oh, please,” Feyd laughed, though. He approached you and stood so close that his nose brushed with yours. He liked to show you affection like this, you had realised that lately. Rubbing your nose with his carefully as if he was an animal sniffing the scent of his mate. He was an animal in many ways, after all. But you would domesticate him, of that you were sure.

Just like his daughter, he just needed a little attention and affection.

“She won’t mind,” he assured you. “She’s going to be my daughter raised by you. Brutality and treachery won’t make her flinch,” he added proudly and you chuckled before caressing his cheeks gently.

“Why should they?” You whispered and kissed him lovingly.

You were sure now that by his side you could feel safe and he would protect you and your family even if it was someone as powerful as the Bene Gesserit to threaten you.

MASTERLIST

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #austin butler x reader #lilysfiction

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