#i follow that thing around all day and take pictures of him

[benkeibear]

『 Virgin Gojo 』

☼ synopsis: Satoru Gojo was a goddamn virgin and you were hellbent on testing your little theory before taking his innocence.

☼ character: Satoru Gojo

☼ reader: female | AFAB

☼ wc: 3792

☼ cw: switch!Gojo, virginity loss, experienced reader, oral (reader giving), fingering, cum eating, creampie, overstimulation, aftercare

☼ notes: I gave this piece a little realism since not every first time is picture perfect and no one gets born a sex god.

Gojo had been chasing after you ever since the day he met you, trying to impress you with everything he could think of. But when his money or the stories he told didn't work, he slowly lost it, trying to make you jealous instead by telling you how many women he takes back to his dorm and how they all scream his name. “I bet they scream because he can't find the clit.” You laughed softly at Shoko’s remark after the white haired man told you about his latest fling.

“That's not true. She squirted all over my cock,” Gojo fired back with a pout on his face as he crossed his arms defensively, but the both of you had to stifle a laugh. He clearly was no gentleman since they don't kiss and tell, but the way he always went over the line with his stories, making sure they were all graphic and detailed, made it hard to believe for you. Why would he tell his crush all that? He followed you around like a lost puppy dog that was begging for just a crumb of your attention and the way he blushed when you teased him never went by unnoticed either. Gojo Satoru was a goddamn virgin and you were hellbent on testing your little theory.

Studying was quickly forgotten when you straddled his lap while he just tried to explain something about cursed energy to you, but you were far too busy with your own little plan to listen.

“Finally got to your senses?” He asked with a smug grin and shoved his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to look at you just above the dark-tinted glasses. His confidence was as fake as in his previous bedroom stories and it was so apparent by how tense he got when you rested your hands on his chest, his heart almost beating out of his ribcage. His pale skin formed goosebumps when you cupped his cheek ever so gently. “Perhaps I have... Fuck me, Satoru,” you whispered into his ear just before you pressed open-mouthed kisses to his neck and you could feel a shudder run down his spine.

His hands were on your ass in an instant, kneading the globes eagerly, but it screamed insecurity to you. Slender fingers were kneading your flesh when you started grinding your hips against him. A breathless moan escaped his soft lips upon the sensation and his grip on your ass was painful enough to leave bruises. To make things worse for him, you were mewling his name so pretty right into his ear, your words leaving him breathless as he helped you to move your hips, meeting every roll of yours with a little upward thrust. “Just like that, butterfly,” he moaned out. The sensation of your clothed cunt so close to his cock made him lose his mind entirely and he just wanted to be inside of you, have you as his first.

When your lips met his, Gojo moaned into your mouth, giving you the perfect opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth and he held your hips close against his, aimlessly humping into you, but you bit his lip. “If you cum in your pants right now, I won't even think about sucking you off,” you warned him and his hips almost stilled instantly. His face and ears dusted pink when you caught onto him. It was torture to him, edging himself like this, but perhaps you're not just teasing him and he won't ever pass up on the feeling of your lips wrapping around his cock. Not when this very image was what caused many sleepless nights where he coated his hand in his own cum more than once. A single hiss left his lips when you started to grind your hips into his again, your breath hot against his neck as you marked his skin up with purple marks. It would be a lie to say that it didn't affect you, knowing that you make him feel so good and that you have him in your palm like putty. His cock feels delicious, even through your clothes. You were almost embarrassed by how soaked your panties were from a little dry humping, but you didn't take pity on his state, not until he admitted he’s a virgin. “Fuck. Can't you just use your mouth already?” He asked through gritted teeth and you moved your kisses to his jawline. “And with that stamina, you made women scream? Impatient asshole,” you teased and his eyes fluttered shut. He knew that you knew it was all a lie, but he wasn't ready to fall into your trap. “It's different with you,” he tried defending himself when you slowly got up from his lap and it took everything in him not to bend you over and bury his aching dick in your cunt. “It's different because it's an actual pussy grinding against you and not just your own hand for once, hm?” You asked and unbuttoned his shirt painfully slowly. “Please use your mouth. I'll do everything you want,” Gojo whispered the last part, feeling foolish for being so desperate, but it made you giggle.

“My eager little virgin,” you cooed and sank to your knees as he bit his own lip at how degrading it sounded to him, his hand slowly traveling into your hair to caress you. “Or am I wrong?” You asked as you unbuttoned his pants without pulling them down yet, until he shook his head. “No, no, you're not,” he said softly, nudging his pants down along with his underwear since you were taking too long for him. You were met with the prettiest cock, already leaking with pre-cum from his soft pink tip. “And you want me to be your first?” You asked, giving him the chance to stop this, fingers raking over his thighs before you pressed a single kiss to each of them. "Yes,” he smiled down at you, not believing his wet dream was about to become reality and you nodded softly as your kisses trailed further up to his hipbones, an impatient whine escaping him. “May I?” You asked him sweetly and looked up to him, but he couldn't answer anymore, gently guiding your head towards his tip, which made you laugh at how eager he was to experience this.

Gojo almost squeaked when your soft lips kissed the leaking tip of his cock, pre-cum already running down his shaft in small beads, but you had enough of the teasing, just wanting him to enjoy his first time now. Ever so gently, you wrapped your lips around his aching length and your longe immediately began to swirl around it, smoothing down any vein and ridge as you slowly sunk your head further down. When you looked up at him through your lashes, he was already far gone. His face contorted in pure bliss before he let his head fall back and his hands traveled to your head. He didn't push you further down, but he needed to hold onto you, feeling like you're sucking his soul out through his dick. When you hollowed out your cheeks for the first time, “fuuuck-” his groan was drawn out and you decided to take him further down your throat. That cocky bastard was indeed very well endowed and with some more practice, he would make women scream.

You barely managed to take his entire length, feeling him so far down your throat, but his sinful moan when your nose brushed the neatly trimmed hair at the base was worth the effort. His hands grabbed your hair tighter with every bop of your head, but it only made you moan. Your soft moans sent vibrations down his cock and that was all it took. Stuttered moans fell from his lips when he held your head in place, not wanting to lose the warmth of your mouth around him as his cum shot down your throat. Normally you would pull back and curse him for shoving your head further down and making you take his cum, but you let him have it this time. The poor virgin's legs were shaking violently in the aftermath of his orgasm when he slowly pulled back, a dust of crimson creeping up his neck, but it was quickly replaced with a cocky smirk. “You're such a good girl,” he praised, acting like someone in some poorly written porn, which made your eyes roll. “Next time, you better ask if the person sucking wants to swallow your cum.” You scolded him, your angry glare set right onto his face, but his cock twitched from your words.

“Can we skip foreplay?” He asked sheepishly, dying to experience your cunt wrapped so tightly around his cock, but you only raised your brows and your face fell quickly when you realized it wasn't a joke. “No?!” You snapped, stating the obvious, before taking your shirt off. His eyes almost fell out of his skull when your shirt landed on the ground and his lips were on you in a fraction of a second while eager hands worked to open your bra. A surprised moan slipped out of you when he managed to open your bra on the second try already and you could feel the smirk against your lips. Gojo’s large hands covered your boobs immediately, kneading them eagerly and you let him discover your body the way he wanted to. His kisses slowly wandered down your neck, giving it the same treatment you gave him earlier, sucking small marks onto your skin while leaving open-mouthed kisses behind.

“You're so hot,” he breathed against your skin and you could feel how genuine he was. His cocky act was pushed aside. When his lips finally reached your chest, you were holding your breath, a single whimper slipping out when he wrapped his thin lips around one of your nipples while looking up at you to gauge your reaction. Upon seeing your eyes flutter shut and your hands burying themselves in his hair, he moaned content against your boobs, swiping his tongue over the pebbled nipple while his hand caressed the neglected breast until he switched sides.

He could do this forever, your boobs were so warm against him and the little noises you let out were all he ever needed - at least that's what he thought. "Toru, please... more,” you practically begged, certain that your panties would be drenched when he took them off, but Gojo didn't need to be told twice. Giving your boobs a kiss goodbye, his tongue trailed over your stomach to the hem of your pants. “May I?” He asked with a small smile on his face, repeating your own question from earlier to show that he learned from your scolding and asked for consent. A simple nod is all you could manage before slim fingers slowly pulled your pants down, leaving you behind in damp panties. Gojo might have been a virgin, but he held so much confidence if you let him just do his thing and it stole your words. “Let's lay down,” you suggested, feeling awkward since you were both still standing around at his desk, but Gojo agreed, gently picking you up to let you fall down on his messy bed, hovering halfway over you. He propped himself up on one arm while laying on his side, his other hand gently caressed your inner thighs, hoping you spread them further for him and you did. You didn't miss the gulp when his hand brushed against your soaked underwear, amazed by how wet you were for him - a little boost to his already far too big ego.

“Please,” you begged breathlessly, unsure what exactly you were begging for, but you yearned to feel his fingers play with your wet pussy. Of course, Gojo flashed you the cockiest smile when you were begging him so desperately, but he didn't want to wait much longer either, so he hooked his slender fingers into the waistband of your panties and peeled them off of you. To help him, you lifted your hips ever so slightly and once the piece of fabric dropped to the floor next to the bed, Gojo was hovering above you, one of his knees placed between your thighs.

He didn't want you to see how nervous he felt, so he kissed you as his hands explored your body once again, but his tongue stopped caressing yours when the tips of his fingers touched your wet folds for the first time. “So wet for me, baby,” he cooed, masking his little shocked reaction, but you simply pulled him closer by the back of his neck to connect your lips once again. Clumsy fingers explored your pussy, sliding through your slit to smear your juices around before gently rubbing your labia. You had to stifle a small laughter when Gojo confidently massaged your labia minora as if he tried to start a fire with the friction. Not wanting to ruin the moment by speaking up and possibly embarrassing him, you gently reached between your bodies to guide his hand to where it's supposed to be, rewarding him with a soft moan. He picked up right away and gently rubbed circles onto your exposed clit until your legs started to shake slightly. His cock was so achingly hard from touching you that he could barely contain himself, but your pleasure was important to him, important to his pride, so he swiftly sank two fingers into you. Your back arched off the mattress at the sudden intrusion and your hands reached for his biceps just to hold onto something.

Gojo gasped when you clenched around his fingers for the first time, feeling just how tight and warm your little cunt was and he started fantasizing about how it would feel around his virgin cock. Would he even last long enough? He started to wonder as the pads of his fingers curled into your pussy - something he's seen in porn. “Fuck- just like that!” You whined out desperately before moans fell from your lips alongside praises. The moment your walls started to flutter around you, Gojo spat onto your clit and let his thumb rub it just like his palm did earlier. You had no idea where he learned it and truth be told, you didn't want to know where he picked that up from, but it was all you needed to tumble over the edge. Your walls gripped tightly onto his fingers as you moaned out his name like a lewd prayer, Satoru’s heart beating faster when he watched you orgasm just from his fingers. Once you came down from your high, you held onto his wrist with desperation, needing him to stop because you started to crave being stretched open by his cock.

When Gojo pulled his long fingers out of your wet cunt, he moaned, your juices staining the bedsheets where you laid and dripping off his fingers. Without thinking about it, he pushed his fingers between his lips to let his tongue get a taste of your sweet nectar and it was enough to make his cock twitch. “You taste so fucking good, butterfly,” the man between your thighs praised in a moan and the lewd scene made your pussy clench around nothing. “I'll make sure you come on my tongue next time, yeah?” He asked cocky and you had to get him down from his arrogant behavior. “Who said there would be a next time?” You asked, sounding rather pissed and he shook his head with a small chuckle. “If you allow me, that is,” he added with a wink that made you roll your eyes. He was so fucking cocky, but you also wanted to see him buried between your thighs, his blue eyes looking up at you while his tongue laps at your core like it's his last meal. You needed to see him drunk on your perfect little cunt, but right now you were dying to have his cock inside of you.

A single glare was shot at the white-haired man before you pulled him on top of your body again, your legs wrapping around his waist and he let his cock slide against your folds for the first time. Gojo’s eyes fell shut as he hissed. Your cunt felt so good against him like this and all he wanted to do was push inside to make you cum around his cock just like you did around his fingers, but your question took him off guard. “You sure you want this?” You asked, making sure he was still fully on board with this, seeing how absent his eyes looked for a moment, but he only nodded, letting his cock rub against your core once again. “You just feel so fucking good, is all,” he admitted, prodding at your needy entrance with his tip. His grip on his cock was almost painful when he lined himself up like that, but he waited for a sign - anything really that let him know he could push in - and then he felt the heels of your feet digging into his firm ass cheeks, making him push in with just one thrust.

Both of you moaned out when his hips were flush against yours, his cock buried so deep inside your awaiting cunt and Gojo almost blacked out.

Your pussy felt even better around his dick than he imagined, but you were so tight it almost hurt to move. “We can stay like this for a moment,” you whispered reassuringly, not trusting your voice to be any louder since your breathing was already ragged. Satoru nodded and his head dropped into the crook of your neck, lazily kissing your sensitive skin while he took deep breaths. Both of you knew he wouldn't last longer than a few seconds if he moved right now and you allowed him to do this at his own pace, not making fun of him or teasing him for once. “You feel so good, Satoru,” you whined out, his cock driving you insane just by being nestled inside of you and just as you slowly started to lose it, Gojo pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back inside, over and over again. His thrusts were sloppy and clearly inexperienced, but the way his tip was hitting all the right spots so deep inside of you made you moan his name, a lewd string of praise and profanities falling from your lips until he stilled after just a few more thrusts. “So close- fuck, I'm gonna-” he warned and you helped him by meeting his thrusts, silently assuring him that you want him to cum inside of you.

“Oh fuck, butterfly,” his voice cracked when his hips humped yours, and his head dropped into the crook of your neck once again. His balls felt so heavy, tightening over and over again as his cock pumped you full of his release and you could swear that he's whimpering in your ear as he experienced his first orgasm inside of you and it felt so intense he had to pull out the second it was over.

He watched his cum flow out of your little hole and his first reaction was to stuff it back inside with his fingers, which caught you off guard. “Satoru, so good!” You whined loudly, still feeling so full with his cum inside of you, but the embarrassment and disappointment of not feeling you cum around his cock started to creep up on him. This was something he needed to feel, he felt like he might drop dead if he didn't have you wrapped around his length anymore, so he swiftly removed his fingers from your weeping cunt and lifted you onto his lap once he laid down.

The white-haired man's dick was still rock solid, his tip a deep shade of pink from all the stimulation, but his blue eyes connected with yours. “Please,” he begged and you sunk down on his overstimulated cock, almost feeling bad for him when he gritted his teeth as you sunk down. Your head immediately fell back at the way he filled you up now, the new angle letting him in so much deeper. His name felt heavenly on your tongue when you moaned it over and over, letting him hear how good he made you feel with his cock, but his ears were ringing from the overstimulation, yet he craved your tight cunt grinding and bouncing off his dick. In sheer desperation, he reached out to rub your clit, his thumb swiping over your little pearl as his other hand found its home on your ass, where he kneaded the flesh.

And there it was - the fluttering of your walls - a telltale sign of your orgasm rippling through your body, which made Gojo moan breathless. Your cunt sucked him deeper while clenching down like a vice as you almost screamed his name when the knot in your stomach finally snapped, your hips erratically humped his cock and your vision blurred. Satoru had to stop rubbing your clit, his hand now grabbing onto your other butt cheek as he pumped another load deep inside of you before you collapsed onto his chest, almost unmoving while his balls kept pumping more of his seed into you until his orgasm finally ceased.

Both of you laid there, panting and none of you wanted to move or say anything. Gojo simply wrapped his arms around your upper body, slender fingers caressing the skin of your back as you gently kissed his jawline with sweet, almost innocent kisses. Your heartbeat matched his, beating strongly at a fast pace, but you eventually forced yourself up a little bit to look at him. One of your hands cupped his cheek gently. “You okay?” You asked caring, wanting to know if he's satisfied, if his first time was what he imagined and Gojo nodded with a breathless chuckle. “I'm so fucking okay,” he said enthusiastically and his smile was a genuine one this time.

“Can we stay like this for a moment?” He asked immediately after, not wanting to let go of you just yet, but you nodded and rested your head back on his shoulder. "Hmm, for a moment, but we need to clean up eventually,” you mumbled into him before kissing his shoulder, and he nodded as he wrapped his arms around you again. “Perhaps we can take a shower together,” he mused, a grin dancing on his lips and you shook your head with a soft laugh before agreeing. Perhaps this was something you could get used to. Perhaps one day Gojo could call you his.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @houseofsolisoccasum

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Eleven

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Series masterlist

Charles wasn't jealous the first time you spoke to Max. But he had been waiting patiently for his turn. You were expressive, more now that you didn't have a muzzle. Watching you grow, come out of your shell, had been amazing. You were smiling at your fellow drivers, making an effort. 

All Charles wanted from you after that was to speak. He wasn't going to push you. That was the absolute last thing he wanted. He could picture it now, pushing you too far and having you retreat into yourself. 

Inviting you to Monaco wasn't about getting you to speak. It had been a bad race, and you needed this. At least, he thought you did. You had been having fun on the jet, giggling against Max's side as he got a little drunk. 

That was why Charles had driven the three of you back to their building. Dropping your handler off at some random hotel in Monaco (Charles was paying for the room) was the absolute highlight of his day. 

You willingly went wherever they took you. Trust Max and Charles had earned. As soon as you followed Charles inside, your eyes were wide with wonder as you took everything in. You missed the way he pulled Max close for the first time in days and kissed him, licking the taste of his early morning Red Bull from his lips. Disgusting stuff, but Charles would happily taste it from Max. 

When he started playing the piano, you began to dance. Charles watched your outline in the reflection of the polished wood. It was as if you didn't even know you were doing it, swaying gently. He couldn't see the way your eyes were beginning to fall shut, letting the music take hold. 

But then Max shouted. "Shut up, Charlie!" 

And Charles obeyed, stopping his playing. You stopped too, the look of disappointment on your features not going unnoticed. Charles didn't expect you to surge forward, though. He didn't expect you to join him by the piano, looking ready to play. 

"I liked it." 

Three little words. The three sweetest words Charles had ever heard. 

You wanted him to play more, so he did. His fingers began dancing across the keys, a tune filling his Monaco apartment. 

You stood from the bench and let yourself dance. No small movements, doing whatever your body told you. You moved to the music, enjoying every moment of it.

Leaving his crushed can of red bull on the counter, Max strode towards you. He took your hand, interrupting your dancing, and moved you around. He spun you and twirled you and everything else, moving with you. 

You were far more elegant than her, your every movement natural compared to his. This was what you were meant to he doing, Charles realised. 

He played until you stopped dancing, until you sat down, chest rising and falling and your arm resting on your stomach. Max's smile was wide as he sat beside you, arm around the back of the sofa. "Happy?" He asked a little breathlessly. 

You nodded, unable to stop yourself from moving closer. That was so much fun, and you didn't know how to express it. Wrapping your arms around him, you laid your head on his chest and looked up into his pretty eyes.

Why couldn't a team have three drivers? You, Max and Charles in the same garage, spending free moments before racing together. Or Max and Charles on the same team while you watched the both of them. Yeah, that felt right. Not part of the action, but able to watch it. 

Who would you be, though? You wouldn't be a driver, you'd be something else entirely. You weren't sure what, but you would be happy. 

Charles watched the two of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, content to just sit there. You didn't steal a kiss, didn't do anything but lay against him. 

A groan left Max's lips as he looked towards the clock. "I should head to my place," he muttered, sounding as if he didn't really want to leave. 

You whined, your hands slipping down to his chest. You held his shirt, looking moments away from climbing into his lap. "Sorry, Birdy," he whispered and pouted at you. "But I gotta get on stream." But then he smiled and you realised he was mocking you. He wasn't being nasty, you knew immediately. 

Charles stood up. He walked across the room and laid his warm hand on your shoulder. "Come on, Birdy Girl," he said and pulled you to his feet. "We can walk him to the door." 

You trudged through the apartment, following Max and Charles to the door. He didn't have to come here, you reminded yourself. He did this to spend time with you and Charles. 

"Should we take our girl out tomorrow?" Charles asked as he stood behind you, both hands on your shoulders. 

They both looked down at you, as if waiting for you to say something. You didn't have to, you knew. This whole talking thing would take some getting used to. 

Finally, Charles looked away from you. He released a hum and Max met his gaze. 

For a moment, they stared at each other. Could they take it any further with you between them. There was no telling how you would react, pressed between them while...

But what if your reaction wasn't bad? What if you liked it?

Charles made the first move. He leaned over you and pressed a kiss to Max's lips. It was short and sweet and gentle, but whine was still pulled from your lips. 

Max grinned as he looked down at you. "You want some, Birdy?" He asked. 

Swallowing, you nodded. 

That was the first time you kissed Max Verstappen. He moved slowly, almost as if you were a spooked animal. His blue eyes searched your face, looking for any reason to stop. But your eyes were pleading, desperate.

His hands cradled your face, held your cheeks. You didn't bite him, didn't make any move like you felt threatened. He leaned in and you held your breath. 

Close enough to touch, but still holding back. "You ready, Birdy?" He whispered and you nodded. 

He kissed you, pressed his freckled lips against your own. A squeak left your lips, entire body tensing. You didn't know what to do, how to move with him. But Max was slow and gentle, every movement encouraging you. 

When you finally kissed back, his whole world lit up. 

He pulled away and you chased after him, already missing the feeling of his lips against your own. "Good Birdy," he whispered and let go of you. 

Your first kiss and it was with Max Verstappen.

You whimpered at the loss of contact, but Charles pulled you into his side. "Don't worry, Birdy Girl," he whispered and kissed the top of your head. "We'll see him tomorrow." 

Max picked up his bags. He started towards the door, leaving the two of you behind. 

"No!" 

You ran forward and wrapped your arms around him. "You can't go," you whispered, pressing your forehead against his back. You squeezed your arms around him, Max's fingers resting over yours. 

A sigh left Charles's lips. He wasn't annoyed, not in the slightest. You were damn adorable, with no control over your emotions. Too sweet for your own good. 

"Would you like to stay the night, Max?”

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heyyy so the taglist is full - if i could tag everybody that wanted to be tagged, i would but tumnlr says no

[xxsinisterbunniexx]

Losing Sleep - Ticci Toby x Female reader NSFW

Warnings: Somnophilia (so therefore noncon)

Tags: Stalker! Toby, Obsessive behavior, Extremely dubious consent, fingering, creampie

As I always say with my creepypasta fics: all canon will be flexible to make way for sexy

Hey guys so I’m used to posting on AO3 but I think I’m gonna start cross posting some fics here and doing headcanons and whatnot :3

Toby was obsessed.

Even saying that was just an understatement though. Having slipped into your room as he had many times before in the night, he was able to admire you yet again.

Truthfully, he was lucky you were so oblivious. He wasn’t exactly subtle in his ways of stalking you. You were way too busy, always caught up in your thoughts. Too distracted to ever notice small things shifting in your room. Too scatterbrained to notice pairs of your underwear going missing. Too occupied daydreaming to feel his eyes on you as he followed you home or watched you in your daily life.

However, Toby’s favorite thing about you was how heavy of a sleeper you were. I mean, he could practically get away with murder in here and you’d still be lying there peacefully, blissfully unaware of his presence.

He crouched down by your bed, only a few inches away from your face. His hand gently brushed against your cheek, feeling your soft skin. A rush of sick giddy joy ran through him, and he had to pull away quickly, his neck jerking to the side.

It was always so hard to keep his tics under control when he was around you, maybe it was a sign of how much he loved you. It was moments like this that got him even more frenetic. The thrill of trying to keep himself under control, inevitably making some noise and waiting to see if you would wake up.

You never did, but he imagined what would happen if you were to. The fear in your eyes that would be there initially. The adrenaline that would be running through his and your veins.

But then you’d understand that he only did all of this because he loves you so much. Because he needs you so much.

He knew you’d understand because you were so kind. That time when he first saw you, working at your part time job. You were so bright and bubbly. You met his eyes when you checked him out, making conversation and smiling instead of looking down and staying quiet like other people did.

It was from that day that he dedicated himself to you. One day, you’d be his.

His eyes gazed over your sleeping form. He started thinking about the ways he’d touch you, imagining the sounds you would make. How excited you’d get and how you’d beg him for more.

He could picture your body on top of his, bouncing as best as you can on his cock. He could hear you whimpering and begging him to take over, to fuck you better than you could ever try to fuck yourself on his cock.

He felt his jeans tighten and his cock throb, getting painfully hard at his own fantasies. That was his signal that it was time to grab a pair of your panties and slip out.

He slowly opened your closet, pulling out your hamper to look for a freshly used pair of underwear, until a noise from you caught his attention. Had you woken up? There was no way.

He looked back over at your bed, your body was shifting a bit under the blanket. Another small noise escaped you. It sounded… almost like moan.

It couldn’t be what he thought it was. How did he get this lucky? He slowly crept over to your bed, lightly lifting your blanket off of you.

He was met with many wonderful realizations. The first being, you only slept in your underwear and a loose t-shirt. The second, you slept with a pillow between your legs. The third and best of all, you were rutting your hips against the pillow, another small moan coming from your lips.

For a moment, he just stood and watched you in awe. The tiny movements of your hips, the way your lacy panties clung to them, the sounds you were making, all things that were driving him crazy.

How pitiful.

You were obviously having a nice dream. The way you were lightly rutting your hips, desperate for some friction. The pillow didn’t seem to be giving you what you needed.

It would be cruel, honestly, to just leave you here and not help you out. You were obviously aching to come.

He gently turned you onto your back, pulling the pillow out from between your legs, careful to not wake you up. Even in the lowlight he could see how wet you were, the fabric just between your legs was soaked.

He gently ran his hand along your cheek, drifting down to lightly brush against your neck. Your body shivered and he hoped it wasn’t because his hands were cold, not that he could tell if they were. But the way you moved towards his touch told him it was because your body was responding to him.

He had to calm himself down. Just the thought of truly touching you was already making him go feral and he wasn’t sure he wanted you to wake up. The timing wasn’t right.

He hooked his fingers into your panties, pulling them down your soft legs. He considered putting them in his pocket for later but given the situation he probably wouldn’t need them.

He bit his lip, slipping his hand between your thighs and pushing them apart. Your arousal glistened in the moonlight. His fingers lightly brushed over your clit and another small whine escaped you. It was like you were begging for him.

Once you had given him a little taste, there was no way he could stop himself now. He was already becoming addicted to touching you. He ran his finger up your slit, groaning softly when your wetness collected on his finger.

Another shaky breath escaped him as he pushed a finger into you, slipping in easily without any resistance. You moaned softly again, your hips bucking ever so slightly.

He could barely contain himself, the way you were squeezing around him was almost enough to make him lose control entirely. He lightly gripped your hip, stabilizing you as he slipped a second finger in and gently hooked them forward.

He bit his lip hard, knowing he would have to keep a slow pace to keep you in dreamland. He deluded himself into believing you were dreaming about him, although it was impossible since you probably didn’t even remember him.

Your body was responding to him so well, your little mewls getting louder and louder.

My perfect little slut.

His cock throbbed again, reminding him just how much the thrill of keeping a balance between not waking you up and making you come was turning him on. Your cunt was sucking him in. He could only imagine how good it would feel to fuck you.

He kept lightly rutting his fingers into you, now adding pressure to your clit with his thumb, wanting so desperately to push you over the edge, to feel your cunt convulse around his fingers.

Something closer to a real moan escaped you and then he felt it. Your cunt was squeezing around his fingers in a steady rhythm. He had actually made you come in your sleep.

Toby just couldn’t take it anymore. That was the final thing that made him snap. He needed to be inside you. Now.

It would just be the head. Everything would be fine if it was just the head. Surely you wouldn’t wake up just from that.

He quickly unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants and his boxers down all in one move. He stroked his already hard cock a few times, biting back a groan.

Carefully, he ran the tip of his cock against your dripping cunt. He sucked in breath. “Fuck…”

He slowly pushed himself into you letting out a full groan this time. He looked down at your sleeping face.

How the fuck is she still asleep?

He was almost convinced you were faking it. That you were pretending to be asleep so he would keep going.

Once he had the head inside, his cock was only throbbing harder, screaming at him to push all the way inside. He just couldn’t do it. You felt way too good.

He grabbed your hips harshly, quickly shoving the rest of his cock inside you. Immediately, he started rutting into you at a fast pace.

Instantly, you awoke, disoriented and confused at the man you didn’t recognize pounding your cunt. Were you still dreaming?

One harsh thrust that rammed against your cervix proved to you that it was not, you let out a sharp wince from the pain.

“Does it hurt?” He asked, pushing your shirt up to expose your tits.

You only moaned and whined in response, still utterly dazed and lacking the alertness to fight.

“I didn’t want it to happen like this.” He said, voice shaking from his excitement. “I just needed to have you so badly.”

Your eyes traveled down to where he was still pounding into you relentlessly.

“Oh my god.” You moaned, feeling your stomach start to tighten. Tears began to fill your eyes as you started to realize what was happening.

“Shhh. It’s okay. Just a little longer.” He attempted to soothe you, feeling himself get close to the edge.

You were getting closer too, your cunt already stimulated from the previous orgasm. You couldn’t stop him now, you were too close to coming. It felt too good to stop him.

“God. Fuck…!” He moaned, sliding his arm underneath you to pull your waist closer. “This is your fault you know?”

You couldn’t answer him even if you wanted to, moaning uncontrollably as your orgasm built. Either way, you had no idea what he was talking about.

“If you weren’t so fucking stupid, so fucking perfectly stupid. God…” he was rambling at this point, trying not to come yet so he could prolong the feeling of fucking you. “And if your cunt didn’t feel this fucking good. Fuck…” he sucked in a breath.

“No… fuck…!” You moaned, arching your body into him as your cunt milked his cock, begging for his cum. Coming around his cock felt so good you thought you could actually see stars.

“So good for me. That’s it. Fuck…!” A couple more strokes and he was moaning in your ear as his cum filled your cunt.

Well, the game was over now. He was forced to take you back with him. He had wanted you to come willingly but… that wasn’t really an option now.

His dark eyes met yours, his expression so sinister you felt yourself shrink in his gaze.

“Now I’m gonna need you to be good for me. I don’t wanna have to hurt you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pls remember to distinguish fiction from reality! These types of behaviors shouldn’t be emulated in real life without extensive conversation beforehand between consenting partners!

Hope you guys enjoyed :3

[scented-morker]

CHAPTER SEVEN. Cuteness Aggression

prev 💋masterlist 💋 next

written chapter with texts/twt at the end! 900 words then 3 panels.. they’re awkward and that’s ok 🫶

“Yn?” “Yn!”

You cringe as the photographers outside the JYP building start yelling your name, recognizing you through the hat and mask combo you’d donned.

You keep your head down as you practically race through the front doors. Your company would have a field day with those pictures, and you partially hope Jeongin was right about their strange desire for coverage of your relationship.

“Yn!”

A few staff members heads snap up at the shout of your name, but it doesn’t bother you once met with the familiar face of Yang Jeongin.

Familiar may be too strong of a word, considering you’d still never talked in person yet, but regardless his presence was a comfort in the new environment.

“Jeongin, hi!” You speak softly as he approaches you, taking your mask down to send him a smile.

He wraps an arm around yours to escort you towards the elevator.

“The big bosses are on lunch break, have you eaten yet? We’re about to eat and we ordered enough if you want some. But you totally don’t have to. Do you have any allergies? I should have asked.”

Your head was lagging, still focused on where his arm was touching yours and the various fake plants and masked figures you were passing.

“Uh. What?”

Jeongin is looking expectantly at you, but his face softens as he watches your eyes dart around nervously.

“Are you hungry? We got lunch.”

Deep dimples pop out as he gives you a gentle smile, and you unconsciously smile back.

Has he always had that cute of a smile?

“Yeah. Thank you.”

He nods right as the elevator door opens, and this time you follow behind him as he walks through the long hallway, giving hi’s and nods of acknowledgment as people greet him.

You’re practically hiding behind him, but a few people notice you and bow respectfully.

He stops at the last door in the hallway and turns to you with a sheepish look on his face.

“Some of the other guys are in here, and it can get kinda crazy when we’re all together. Let me know if it gets too much and we can sneak out.”

You find yourself fighting a blush at his sincerity, and nod quickly.

He opens the door, entering first and taking the brunt of the reaction.

“Oooooooo”

“Our first couple in the practice room!”

“What a gentleman we raised.”

Jeongin rolls his eyes at all of them, smacking Hyunjin over the head as he passes to take a seat on the couch.

You catch Chan whisper shouting to all of them as you take a seat next to jeongin, and the group is much calmer when you finally drag your eyes back to them.

“Hi, yn! We’re excited to meet you, even with the weird circumstances.”

“Oh thank you! I’m excited to meet you guys.” You give Chan a smile, “and thanks for everything you’ve done with the companies for us. I haven’t been told much so without you and jeongin I’d be lost.”

Jeongin feels the sudden urge to ransack the SM building and also squeeze your hand, but he takes a deep breath instead and bumps your knee with his own.

“We got you.”

Jisung and Chan exchange looks as you and Jeongin grin at each other, but you’re brought back to the rest of the room when Hyunjin hands you a plate with food on it.

“You should eat, the meetings will resume in twenty minutes.”

You accept the food while Jeongin pouts.

“You get her a plate but not me?”

“You smacked me like 5 minutes ago! And yn is a guest.”

Jeongin goes to smack him again, but he stops mid motion and all of his attention shoots over to you when you speak.

“We can share. I’m not gonna eat all of this anyway. And what kind of girlfriend would I be if I let you starve.”

Your last sentence is quieter than the rest, and Jeongin is the only one close enough to hear it clearly.

It’s one thing to joke about it over text, but you weren’t quite ready to call him your boyfriend out loud and in front of his members, even if it was a joke.

He’s smiling when he drops his hand to accept the spring roll you hand him, and you burst out in laughter when he eats the whole thing in one bite.

“Oh my gosh what was that?”

It’s the loudest you’ve been since walking in the building, and it fills Jeongin with pride.

You enjoy lunch with the boys until Chans phone buzzes and he gets up, you and Jeongin both standing with him.

You tell the the other boys goodbye, taking your place next to Jeongin while the three of you exit the room.

“I assume they’ve been notified that you’re here by the reporters outside, so they might ask you guys to come in. Would you be comfortable with that? If not I’ll tell them respectfully to shove off.”

You laugh, “I would actually love to. I’m tired of hearing second hand about my career.”

An approving look crosses Chan’s face.

“Why don’t you just come in now then? Put you in control of the situation instead of them asking you.”

You look between the two boys.

“Isn’t that disrespectful?”

“Disrespectful is putting you in this position in the first place and then not having the decency to involve you in it.”

Jeongin’s jaw ticks, and it’s the scariest you’ve ever seen him look.

“What he’s trying to say is that you have every right to be here.”

You nod, “okay then.”

You don’t miss the wide eyes when you enter the room sandwiched between Chan and Jeongin, but when you take a seat and feel Jeongin’s hand give your own a squeeze, you find you don’t really care.

Taglist. @wdwbts101 @chlodavids @astro-doll-the-star @andassortedkpop @anoca250318 @minhoie @heusalettle @jisungs-iced-americano @zenlackszen

[scarycranegame]

nows the perfect time to post some choice pictures of the mysterious little creature that lives in my house (plus a secret bonus goober that i dont have any other good pictures of)

Hellooooooooo people in my computer I’m here to ask u for pictures of ur pets bc im potentially gonna have to put my stinky boy to sleep :/

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 14: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

Yesterday's poll decided that The Adventurer should relax by spending his afternoon shopping ..

~

He trots down the mossy cobblestone walkway, gazing around in awe as he approaches the central hub of the small city. Tiny shops and stalls and carts are woven through the few clusters of taller buildings, with a modest crowd bustling back and forth between them. Despite much of the land being cleared for structures and pathways, it's still lush with greenery wherever it can be, every blank stone wall or street corner dotted with trailing vines and flowering fruit trees.

After spending a good 25 minutes trying to orient himself at the city map directory, he finally finds his way onto one of the primary shopping streets, eager to spend the afternoon lazily strolling about, trying to ignore his physical aches and just take in all the sights as he hunts for interesting items....

...A few hours (and multiple snack breaks) later, the streets begin to glow with a hazy warmth as lanterns are lit, marking the nearing sunset. Possibly because of the fight yesterday, he's felt shakier, more easily startled than usual, and suddenly realizes an urgent need to be safely inside his room at the inn before nightfall. He wanted to stay out longer, see the lights and the crowds, fascinating scenes of city nightlife he's never been exposed to before.. but, his nerves are impossible to ignore.

Begrudgingly preparing to slink off towards the inn in a sweaty anxious panic, he stops in the doorway, resolving to at LEAST buy himself ONE nice item before he leaves. He doesn't have much money, sure, but it'd be a shame to simply look around all day and not get anything. All travelers need to collect their souvenirs, right? But.. What should he get?

-

-

Additional Information (feel free to skip this part, it's just extra context for people who are interested lol)

just for record (in case it influences what people think he should buy), this is the adventurer's current inventory contents:

small journal + pencil to document his travels (and a few colored pencils for sketching plants or doodling)

a basic travel guide booklet

a simple map of the area

a small glass lantern case you can put candles in

fire starting materials

basic matches

first aid kid (a few bandages, simple antibacterial balm, some dried herbs that can be used for minor issues like stomach aches or nausea)

one metal cup, one metal bowl/plate thing, one metal fork/spoon, a cooking knife, and one metal pot for cooking over the fire

a basic toiletry bag (toothbrush, herbal mixture toothpaste type thing, bar of soap, one towel, a rag, a few disposable paper napkins, moisturizing oil, hair brush, a tiny cracked mirror)

three bottles of various spice mixes for flavoring the plain/bland food he usually forages on the road (+ plain salt)

a glass jar of berries

a container of plain dried oats

a container of dried beans

half a loaf of stale bread

one carrot he found

a bag of dried fruit

about 15 coins (maybe equivalent to $45 USD in our world money lol)

a basic fishing kit (simple lures, hooks, string)

two containers of canned fish just as a back up in case he ever can't find fresher food for the cat

a cheesy fairytale romance novel about people going on a grand heroic journey, to help give him inspiration to continue on his own travels and be the ultimate Super Cool Adventurer Hero

an old folded up letter from his family

a fabric pouch of cool shiny rocks + other trinkets he's collected

one change of underwear, one change of socks, + winter gloves

foldable saw

some twine/string

a basic sewing kit (2 needles, one spool of thread, a thimble)

lawyer's business card (from boat party)

lawyer's fancy expensive giant scarf (also from party)

1 lunchbox of vegetable dumplings (from Innkeeper)

2 canteens of water

a small dagger for cutting rope, vines, multipurpose anything

a little tin of mint & rose flavored candies for when his mouth gets dry

a box of cubed dried chicken as cat treats

a box of fancy tea

one large rope

a roll of fabrics (one thick blanket for padding when sleeping on the ground, some basic tent fabric to make shelter from, a few spare fabric scraps, 2 cloth napkin/towel things, two cloth sacks for extra carrying capacity if needed)

1 pouch of dried meat

5 candles

Innkeeper's hand-drawn map to her brother's hideout

and of course, the Mysterious Egg in a little wooden box

the adventurer's current main quest: follow his map to reach the abandoned castle ruins and see the rare animal specialist about the mysterious egg he has

[bi-writes]

the new baby you take care of is the cutest baby you've ever met. (a lil dubcon, baby trapping, 18+)

he has a big head with a tuff of little blond waves, and he has the brightest brown eyes in the entire world. he smiles at every face you make at him, and he takes a bottle like a champ and will nap for hours as long as you're quiet.

his father has a strict schedule set for him. when you met that big man for the very first time, you were speechless. your teeth had clacked together with how fast you tried to close your gawking mouth, but it was impossible not to with how much he towered over you, nearly touching the top of the doorway.

he is methodical, down to every minute. tacked onto the fridge, he had shown you his son's current schedule, which he emphasized with a dead glare must be followed to a T.

two feedings in the morning followed by a nap. another feeding. a longer nap. another feeding. another nap. all separated in increments of 45 minutes, with instructions on how to use the bottle warmer and how to measure the formula.

his son does not cry. his father had told you, if he cries, y'r doin' somethin' wrong. and he was right. the baby only cried when he was hungry, and he would fall into a dead sleep as soon as you gave him a bottle.

it's odd, to take care of someone else's baby. especially this man's. there's no woman in the house, as far as you can tell. the whole house is decorated very minimally, cozy and in shades of warm greens and cool blues and browns. there are no heeled boots by the door or pretty fur coats, and whenever you pass by his bedroom, only one side of his bed ever looks lived-in. there are no pictures on the walls, no makeup in the bathroom drawers, and no pads or tampons under the sink.

just a big, unfeeling man and his big, adorable baby.

but you think that your actions to get this big, unfeeling man to like you are starting to have the wrong kind of implications.

it starts with dinner. you start to make it, using the ingredients from his fridge to make stews and buttery mashed potatoes and roasted veggies. the image of you stirring a pot with his baby on your hip has not left him, and whenever you don't have some kind of meal cooking when he gets home, you answer to someone curt, annoyed, and cold, even to the touch.

then it's the decorating. you thought his couch was a little bare, so now there's a few throw blankets laying across the back of it. there's a vase of pretty tulips on the coffee table. you're growing herbs on the windowsill, little pots of thyme and rosemary and basil. you leave house shoes by the door now, and even when you're not there, he sees those fuzzy pink slippers in the foyer, and he can't help the way he chubs up just seeing them when you're not around.

you start to bring some extra changes of clothes. after the baby spit up on you more than once in a day, you bring a duffel bag with you once a week with extra changes of clothes. he snarls when he sees your clothes in one of his drawers; pretty black panties and matching bras, all laid out under your lounge wear right next to his fucking socks.

the toothbrush next to his in the bathroom. the multi-colored chapsticks in the drawers. tampons and pads organized in the cabinet, your moisturizer next to his shaving cream. he smacks his fist against the wall when he sees the finished package of your birth control in the trash because wot the fuck are y'doing taking those things when y'know i want another--

he can see you in the baby monitor. swaying in the dark of his son's room, the baby's head on your chest as you rock him softly. you're singing a little, a gentle hum to soothe him enough that his eyes start closing. he groans a little when he sees your eyes shut as you kiss his son on the forehead, cooing at him as you pat his little back and tell him to have sweet dreams.

you're making brownies when he comes home that night. his son is seated in his high chair, clapping his hands, and you're smiling at him and cooing in that baby voice you do as you take the warm brownies out of the oven. when you see him emerge from the darkness of his living room, you smile at him, taking off the oven mitts.

"hi, simon," you say softly, and his pupils dilate when you slip a hand over his son's head to soothe him. "i made some dessert, hope that's okay. thought you might wanna try my new recipe."

simon comes into the kitchen as you take his baby out of his high chair. you hoist him up against your hip, and when simon comes closer, you giggle as tilts his head to the side and stares down at you both. you tilt your head back a little, blinking up at him, and the flutter of your lashes is enough to have him rock hard in his cargos as his hands curl into frustrated fists at his sides.

"i'm gonna put him down for bed, it's a little late," you tell him. you hoist his son up a little higher on your hip, picking up his little chubby arm and waving up at simon. "say goodnight, daddy."

simon grins under his mask at the soft lilt of your voice. you try not to squeak when one of his big hands slides around your waist to hold you at your back, and he bends down to kiss his son's forehead through his mask.

"goodnight, my boy."

you try not to linger on the idea that he may have grabbed your ass as you walked away. no, his arms are just so long, they grazed you while you passed by him.

the baby always goes down nice and easy. one bottle later, with a full stomach, he's rubbing his little eyes and fussing in your arms as he tries to fall asleep. he's a mover, simon's little one--always grasping around with his arms and flopping onto his side in the bed. oftentimes, after a nap, he's facing the opposite direction and on the other end of the crib when you come to get him.

so you shouldn't be surprised when as he's falling asleep, his little grubby hands reach for you and pull.

your eyes widen when you hear the pop of buttons. you look down, gasping, when you see his son has grabbed onto the front of your blouse and pulled the first few buttons out. they clatter onto the floor in a mess, and you're not able to see where they go with it so dark in his room.

"oh, god!"

you try to be gentle as you set the baby down in his crib. he immediately sticks his thumb in his mouth with his head lolling to the side, and you try to pick up anything you step on as you hurry out of the room, trying to hold your shirt together.

it's useless. you're standing there in the hallway, hastily shutting the baby's room closed, tits out at eight in the evening.

"tha' why he so good ta ya, mama?"

your eyes bug out of your head when you see simon there. he's standing at the end of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes are focused on your poor open blouse. the bra you're wearing leaves nothing to the imagination--just mesh with underwire, and when simon comes closer, there's virtually nothing separating you when he reaches up with that gloved hand and cups one breast, thumb smoothing over your nipple before he tugs on it gently.

"wha--simon--"

"thinks y'r his mum, pretty tits out like tha'," simon hisses. "'f ya wanted it so bad, why didn't ya just say?"

"simon--"

he tsks, using both hands this time to grip your blouse by the edges and tug it down your arms. it falls around your elbows, and he takes the straps of your bra with it, until it's pooled around your waist and your tits fall free.

"fuckin' hell," he breathes, and your lips part gently as he hikes up his mask and spits on your nipples before sucking them into his mouth. "mmmph..."

you arch your back as he rips the rest of the buttons off with one smooth tug. your blouse falls, and your bra follows it, until you're in nothing but your skirt, backing up into the darkness of his bedroom as he kicks the door shut. you scramble to get him back on top of you when your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you're laying down--grabbing around his shoulders as you try to guide his mouth back to your breasts where he can suckle on them with that filthy mouth of his.

"knew it--" he rasps. "fuck, i knew it--"

your eyes squeeze shut when he ruts his hips against yours. your panties are ruined, slick wet and digging uncomfortably into your folds, but the scratch of simon's jeans have your back bowing at a hard angle, your fingers sliding between your bodies as you reach for his zipper. you gasp when you feel him under your hand, straining against denim, the girth of him tying your stomach in hard knots as you think about what it'll take to get you open enough for him to slip in.

"keepin' me fat," simon murmurs. "holdin' my baby like tha', wot did ya think was goin' ta happen, eh?"

"h-huh?"

"'m gonna make you fat, too, swee'eart," he says, smoothing his hand over your tummy. "saw those little pills in y'r bag. it won't take today, but we'll try again tomorrow, yeah?"

you're drooling as he fucks you. your hips are hiked up, your skirt flipped up as his thighs smack against your ass. you're not privy to the way the fat of you shakes every time he's buried to the hilt, but simon appreciates it, tongue out as he watches you push back against him to try and get yourself filled quicker. he traces your spine with his fingers, leaning over you as he watches your fingers dig into his dark sheets and grip for dear life as he gives it to you fast and deep. it's a mess of wet between you, and you know the bed underneath you will be soaked by the time he's done with you, but you can't think about that when the very thing you've been wanting since the day you met him is so close, so within reach.

you haven't taken a single one of those pills since the first week you met that fat, beautiful baby. maybe simon didn't take too close a look at the dated little pills in your bag and in the bin, the little calendar you used to mark rotting away in a forgotten pocket, gathering dust.

when simon comes, your mouth is filled with saliva, and you gurgle between barely-lucid giggles as your hips sink into the mattress. he's saying something, but you don't hear it. instead you reach down with your fingers and stuff them inside, trying to gather as much of his cum and keep it. when simon tries to cum in your mouth later, you nearly bite his dick off.

how dare he try and waste it?

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 ! ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO KNOWS JUST HOW TO KEEP YOU COOL DURING A HEATWAVE - WITH HIS D!CK !! ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x reader

✧ summary: it’s a heatwave in tokyo and who better to spend it with than satoru, who has an interesting idea of how to pass the time — fucking the heat away.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, porn some plot, best friends to lovers, tiny bit of angst about suguru, inappropriate uses of popsicles, fucking in the heat, ice play, sex (p in v), oral (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), cum eating, cum fucking, pussy drunk satoru, implied multiple rounds, fanart by @ / umbra3terna on twt / tumblr (pls go follow htem, they are so talented)

✧ w/c: 7,161

“It’s so fucking hot,”

“Then let’s fuck to cool off.”

What? 

You stared at the strongest sorcerer, his face flushed red, heat clinging to his cheeks, white locks blowing in the cool breeze of the fan, his shirt lifted up to cool him or maybe to tempt you, his melting popsicle dripping onto his burning skin — and your eyes flicked to the blue liquid slipping down his abs, then back to his face. 

The low buzz of the fan filled the silence between the two of you as you stared at him, “what?” The question slipping from your mind out your lips. 

Satoru Gojo had far too many outrageous things leave his mouth — he was insolent, arrogant, and even mildly violent (mostly towards Ijichi) — but you didn’t know if it was him or the heat — but you were considering it. 

What the fuck was wrong with you? 

(Him. It was him that was wrong with you.)

It was a heatwave in Tokyo. The one rare time you hadn’t been sent away on a mission, and you couldn’t even leave your apartment with the heat warning issued. Not to mention your central air breaks down, with a repairman nowhere in sight. 

It was just your luck. 

You rub at your eyes — and you weren’t sure if they were burning from your sweat or your lack of sleep last night. You’re blasting your fans around your apartment, stripped down to your shortest shorts and lightest tank top. You’re walking around your kitchen, using a takeout menu to fan yourself as you watch your order drive towards your place. There was no fucking way you were cooking in this weather. 

And you see a phone call come through — Gojo Satoru’s name flashing across the top of the screen. You sigh, contemplating ignoring the phone call, but you know he would only call a million times more, and you pick up. 

“Why did it take you so long to pick up my phone call?” and you shake your head, placing the call on speaker as you watch your takeout arrive at your place. 

“It literally rang twice,” Satoru’s patience had not changed since your time Jujutsu Tech — as you glance at your contact photo, a picture of him dressed in Shoko’s skirt from your school days, with Geto snickering in the background — though a lot of things had. 

“Two times too many,” you knew he was pouting. 

“Satoru, unless the next words out of your mouth is an offer is to fly me to a place where the weather is better, I’m gonna hang up on you,” you sigh, making your way to the door, opening the door to find Satoru standing there, looking far too stylish in a white t-shirt, his blue shorts hanging low on his waist, and sunglasses perched precariously on his head, your takeout in hand, “what are you doing here?” 

“Well I thought you wouldn’t  want to take a beach day with me unless I showed up to your place. Ta-da!” he lifts up a duffel bag, seemingly stuffed to the brim. 

“Satoru, there’s a weather advisory out. I’m pretty sure all the beaches are closed, and even if you’re immune to heatstroke, I’m not,” you step aside to pull him inside, the humidity sucking the little cool air you have in your apartment, “why did you think going to the beach in this heat was a good idea?” 

He shrugs, “An excuse to get out of the house, plus, my apartment’s cooling is out—“ 

“So you thought even if you couldn’t go to the beach, you could steal my A.C.?” you sigh, collapsing on the couch, “well too bad because mine’s busted too,” you glance over, but your gaze doesn’t find Satoru, seeing his paintbrush head stuck in your freezer, “you’re going to melt—“ he turns around to have a blue popsicle stuck in his mouth and you almost snort at the sight, “bring me one too.” 

“What should we do?” you murmur, sticking the popsicle in your mouth, as you laid back on the couch, sucking on the end of it, “watch a movie?” 

“It feels too hot to do anything but lay here,” Satoru sighed, the crinkle of his second popsicle white noise as you scroll through possible movie options on your phone, until you toss it away, metal overheating just as you were. 

“Well, we have to fucking do something other than just burn,” and you glance over, his white tee rolled up to expose his stomach as he ate his popsicle, and you raise an eyebrow, “what the hell are you doing?” 

“What’s it look like? Enjoying my popsicle,” he half mumbles as he continues to suck on the colored ice, “it’s better than it getting on my shirt,” You watch the popsicle drip onto his exposed abs, liquid pooling in the crevices of his toned muscles, you lick at your own popsicle, catching the drops off the melting ice with your tongue, wondering how much sweeter it would taste to lick it off his abs, “see something you like sweetheart?” 

His teasing words and wide grin pry you from your reverie with the subtlety of a crowbar, and your cheeks burn, as you roll your eyes, “You’re a dumbass,” you mutter, and he snickers at you, as you avert your gaze from him, and go back to eating your popsicle. 

You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you as you slide the popsicle into your mouth, and you definitely don’t miss the way he eyes you as you suck at the fruity ice, before letting it slip from your lips, leaving only the tip of it pressed against your lips. 

“See something you like, Satoru?” and he has no reaction, shamelessly staring still, as he tilts his head. 

“I do,” he says without missing a beat, lifting his gaze to meet your own, “are you offering?” and you blink, before looking away — why was everything with Satoru a game of chicken? A bull’s rush to the line the two of you refused to cross, but did everything to pull the other over it. But neither of you had faltered, not in all these years. 

Not since the very last summer just like this. 

The sun had sunk past the horizon line, the summer night only predicated by the harmony of cicadas and the humidity that still stubbornly clung to the air, despite the sun being long gone. And that’s when Satoru had knocked on your door to tell you — tell you what had happened with Geto. 

He was gone. He had left. And he wasn’t coming back. 

And why was it that the signs were all there, laid out before you like directions to where he was going — and you didn’t see them, obscured by his empty reassurances and your own selfishness. 

You didn’t blame Suguru. Not after everything that had happened with Riko, Haibara, and everything else. But when you saw Satoru before you, despondent and broken — not a single inch of his usual flippant humor present, not a bit of his joy that he always had. But a part of you wanted to blame him — blame him for hurting Satoru, for hurting you, so prolifically. 

But you couldn’t blame him all the same. 

Satoru had spent the next few nights in your place, even sharing your bed at time, waking up with his long limbs tangled with your own, his face often buried in the crook of your neck, and you could see the evidence of dried tears on his face, despite his best efforts to cover his own tear tracks. 

“Do you think I could have stopped him?” he had asked you that night, his head laid in your lap as you flipped through the channels of the shitty TV you had brought from home and refused to replace, “do you think he would have listened?” 

“I think Suguru is even more stubborn as you are — because you were stubborn enough not to listen to your best friends,” your fingers cupped the bottom of his chin, “there wasn’t anything you could do — you can’t help someone who wasn’t willing to accept it,” 

“I could have made him,” and his skies contained in his eyes were infinite — just as he thought of himself — but he wasn’t. Because unlike the sky, he was human. 

“No, you couldn’t have,” you flick his forehead, and he pouts up at you, “and sitting here and wondering what ifs will do nothing for you — except drive you and your very excellent best friend crazy,” 

“Lucky for me she loves me even when I drive her crazy,” and you roll your eyes, a smile pulling on your lips, as he stares up at you, your fingers mindlessly tracing the length of his jaw, feeling the quake of his body as he shivered under your touch. 

“Very lucky,” and you could feel the pull between your bodies, the ever so slight way you leaned, willing for once to cross that line for him, for you — but he turned on his side, facing the TV instead of you. 

“What should we watch?” 

And you had promised yourself that night, you wouldn’t let your feelings get in the way of your friendship, you wouldn’t do that to him — because you knew he had already lost too much. 

But now—he was the one trying to cross the line. 

You stared at him, before scoffing, “Shut up,” but you were too afraid to let him. Your eyes drift back to the TV, leaning back against the couch — it was for the best this way, “think the heat’s getting to you more than you admit,” 

“Maybe,” he hums, as you finish your popsicle and sigh, leaning back on the couch again, with a groan. 

“It’s so fucking hot,” you sighed, leaning back on the couch, head hanging over the armrest. 

And you could feel his gaze on you, undeterred from before, “Then let’s fuck to cool off.” 

You almost think you heard him wrong, as you slowly lift your head to look at him. You must have heard him wrong. Satoru was known to make bad jokes or say ridiculous things — but not like this. And you find a smirk across his lips, but the heat in his gaze had not a hint of humor in it — burning hotter than the sun taunting all of Tokyo. 

“What?” You don’t know what you want him to say — say that it was a joke, say that you heard him wrong, or just say it again. But your eyes can’t pull away from his, the blue of his eyes pulling you close instead of pushing you away unlike his technique by the same name. 

“You heard me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head, biting into his popsicle, letting the tip slip into his mouth, “we could fuck the heat away,” the idea slips so casually from his lips, as if he was recommending a movie or a book, and not fucking you here and now. 

“Satoru—“ your voice is chiding, you’re shaking your head, but the couch creaks as he leans forward, the remnants of his popsicle slipping down his abs and through his happy trail and seeping into his shorts, “don’t fuck around—“ 

“Do you think I’d say that to you of all people just to fuck around?” he raises his eyebrows, and your words flee your mind just as you wish to, but you sit, wondering if this is a literal fever dream from the heat, “you don’t have to think about it so much,” 

“Don’t I?” you scoff, shaking your head, as you get to your feet, wiping the sweat from your forehead, “Satoru, why—“ 

And he’s getting to his feet, wiping the melted popsicle on his stomach with his white shirt, no longer caring as much as he said he did. And you can feel the heat radiate from his body, all consuming just as this heatwave was — clinging to you even as you tried to keep cool, sweat dripping off your flesh like the pleas that left your lips. 

“I’ve thought about this for too long, too many times,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against your cheek, featherlight as if you’d break apart under his touch, “we’re sitting in your place — it’s just you and me. You’re asking why, and I’m asking why not?”’

“I don’t want to sleep with you just like that, I can’t. I want it—“ you cut off, but he doesn’t let you turn your head, hand cupping your cheek now. 

“You want what, sweetheart?” Your mouth was impossibly dry, the words unable to force their way from your throat, “tell me, please,” and the pleading in his voice breaks you. 

“I want it to mean something,” and his gaze softens, as your eyes meet his again, a ghost of a chuckle on his lips, “it’s not funny—“ and he’s daring even closer, a hand sliding down your side. 

“It’s funny because you could think I would ever want anything that’s to do with you to be only meaningless,” he murmurs, words fanning your skin, and god it was so fucking hot. Between the temperature, his closeness, and his words, you were sure you’d pass out, “do you know how many times I wanted to do this? So many times during the days and nights we’d spent together, I wanted to just reach over and pull you into a kiss,” 

“Then why didn’t you?” your brow furrows, “and why now?” 

“Because I’m tired of waiting for a sign, for something in my head to tell me it’s safe, that you won’t disappear,” his thumb rubs back and forth, “just like every good thing in my life,” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me at this point,” and his lips curl, a breath away, “Toru—“ 

“Can I kiss you?” and you almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but you can’t, the heat so thick it feels as if every molecule of your body was on fire, and the only thing that could quench the flames was his lips. So you just nod wordlessly. 

His lips find yours. It was chaste, a brush of his lips against yours, the lingering sweetness of the popsicle dancing on your tongue. It’s too soon that he’s pulling away, your lips mourning the absence of his touch already. 

“Feeling cooler?” his words warm your lips, but even so you’re pulling him back into another kiss, lips sliding against his firmly, his fingers tangling in his hair, wanting nothing more than to melt into his grasp.

And you part your lips from his for a moment,” Not at all,” and your eyes flicker to your refrigerator, “but maybe we can cool down.” 

“Fuck,” Satoru shivered, and he wasn’t sure if it was your lips against his pulse, or from the drag of the quickly melting popsicle against his burning skin. But neither of those compared to the soft groan ripped from his lips as your tongue dragged up his side, following the sticky, sweet trail of melted ice, mixing with his sweat, “well, am I sweeter than ice cream?” 

He’s too sweet. 

He’s certainly sweet like this, laid out on your bed for you, his shirt long discarded, his shorts about to join them. Soft pants made his chest rise and fall, slowing and quickening with your touch — his pulse thrumming under your touch. 

But he’s also sweet with the way he looks up at you, soft eyes to match his smile, as if he was made to look at you like this. And a part of you wanted to believe he was — even if most of you couldn’t quite believe it. 

Your lips curl, humming as you press a wet kiss to his sticky skin, “i don’t know, I need more time to make my final decision,” you lick up the length of the rapidly melting sweet, droplets of sweet sugar water dissolving on your tongue, but you knew it really was nothing compared to the taste of his lips. 

But you weren’t going to tell him that. 

You take a bite of the popsicle, before leaning down to kiss him, letting the ice melt between your tongues, as his fingers tangled in your locks, and soon enough he’s rolling you onto your back, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. 

And he leans forward, eating the last bit of the popsicle from the stick, “Well it’s my turn to taste now,” 

“You can’t even wait your turn for this, huh—“ the last word is a squeal as his fingers slide into the waistband of your shorts, snapping it against your heated skin, flames licking everywhere he touches. 

The melted popsicle runs down his muscles, rivulets running down the contours of his body, before dripping onto your burning skin, nipples pulling taut from the sticky sugar. He leans down to tease one nipple, sucking the melted liquid off, before doing the same to the other. 

“I’ve waited long enough, sweetheart,” and he’s dragging your shorts off, thighs crying out in relief as the cool air of the fan did it’s job to ebb away the heat ever so slightly, drying the layer of sweat, “I don’t want to wait another minute,” 

“So impatient,” you chide teasingly, voice lilting and yet he looks at you with a half lidded gaze, sending a wave of heat right to your core. And the way your thighs press together doesn’t go unnoticed, fingers splayed against the plushness of your thighs, forcing them gently apart. Your cheeks burned, and this time not from the weather, “Toru—“ 

His cerulean eyes find the wet patch of your panties, a smirk pulling at the corners of his pretty lips, “Don’t think this is sweat, baby,” he teases, fingers skimming over the damp spot, “or should I make sure?” 

“Satoru—“ and your chiding is cut off by the sinful press of his fingers to your clothed cunt, his dark eyes lidded as they watch your slick soak through the ruined panties already. And you can’t help the way your hips buck against his hand, “you motherfucker—“

“Funny coming from the one humping my hand,” he grins, and his thumb grinds down against your clit, his other slipping under your ass to knead the soft flesh, “maybe it is sweat and I should just leave you to cool off,” his fingers slipping away, delicious friction that your cunt was already spread open, wet, and willing for— 

A whine leaves your throat, an all too pretty noise, “Toru, please, I—“ and his fingers are hooking in the fabric of your panties before ripping them off, quite literally, the sound of tearing fabric making you gape at him, “what the fuck—“ 

“It’s too hot for these anyway,” Satoru pockets the panties in his shorts, “look at this, you’re burning up,” he stares at your leaking pussy shamelessly — because shame was a word that Satoru Gojo did not know, “and I think I know just what to do to cool you down,” his head leans down, blowing softly at your inner thighs, over the sweat mixed your pre that coated your skin, your folds twitching, just as the corners his lips did, “so needy,” 

“You’re the fucking worst,” your words a mutter unfolding into a gasp as he drags a single finger up your leaking folds, gathering your slick on the tip of his index, and then he’s tracing a slow circle around your clit, “Toru,” your words are half pleading, half pouting. It’s so hot, his touch only serving to make you sweat — literally and metaphorically. You were sure your sheets would be ruined after this — and not just from your sweat. 

“Lemme savor this, you kept me waiting so long, Princess,” his reverent words pressed against your inner thigh, teasing butterfly kisses that make you squirm, a flick of his sharp tongue that tastes the sweat against your skin, “how’re you this sweet? S’perfect,” his words are seemingly more for him than you, pussy drunk without even taking a single sip. 

But not for long. 

His nose bumps against your clit, tongue flicking against the seam of your messy cunt, eager fingers pulling the sticky, sweaty skin apart, and your cheeks burn with how exposed you feel—and how self conscious you were. 

“M-maybe this isn’t a good idea. I’m really sweaty—“ and the flat of his tongue drags up your sopping pussy, and fuck, good wasn’t enough to describe it. 

“Then I better clean my nasty girl up, right?” he cools your sticky skin with another soft puff of air blown between lips glossy with your precum, making you whimper as he pulls away, “one sec, sweetheart, think I need reinforcements,” 

The creak of the bed as he scurried off for a moment making you lift your head, an embarrassingly strong ache between your legs making you whine, legs closing, as you bit your lip, “Toru, what the fuck—“ 

And he’s back, but not empty handed — a glass filled to the brim with ice, a grin on his lips, “ready to cool off, Princess?” 

~~~ 

“A-ah, too cold,” you whine, and Satoru can’t help but disagree it’s far too hot — and it wasn’t the weather. It was you. 

You were always hot. You always had been — otherwise how else did you melt his icy demeanor from the moment you met? Too big of a chip on his shoulder from all those years spent at the lonely top of his clan, and you had no problem keeping company up there while kicking off his pedestal. 

Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. Gasps pulled from spit soaked lips, chest rising up and down, and your legs spread open just for him. You shivered as he dragged a half melted ice cube along your collarbone, water trailing behind that he was more than dragging his tongue along, the sweetness of your skin mixed with the tang of your sticky sweat. 

How had he resisted for so long? 

It had been years and years of pining. Of late night spent watching movies, of days spent fighting alongside each other, and even more days spent trying to get home to the other. And all that time, he still had stayed at the same distance. 

Because it was safer. It was easier. But he wasn’t know what it was — the heat, patience wearing thin, the fucking sight of your smile even in this fucked world — but he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

Not without you by his side. 

“Think the ice would beg to differ, sweetheart,” he hums, as he presses a kiss over the pooling ice as it melts right above the swell of your breast, “I’d say it’s much too hot,” your nipples grow hard under his treatment, a hiss leaving your lips, as he sucks the ice water from one nipple while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Toru, fuck, please—“ your words cut off with another gasp as he buries his face in the swell of your breasts, licking up the valley, before his lips find your pert nipples, lips closing around, sucking and licking, before nibbling at the skin. 

“You always this needy, pretty? Or is it just for me?” his words are said teasingly, but his eyes are just as desperate as yours, fingers dragging down your sides now, “better be just for me,” he mutters more to himself than you, as you gasp, ice cold fingers prying your thighs apart, “heh, what a mess you’ve made,” his fingers skim your dripping cunt, and he lifts his fingers to spread them in front of your face, your pre strung like spider webs between them, “don’t think sweat’s does this, does it?” 

And he turns his head, pressing kisses to your thighs, a glorified slip and slide from your sweat and pre alike, but how was it that you still tasted so sweet? A whimper escapes your bitten lips, his breath warming your pussy, a puff of air blowing over your twitching entrance, eyes sliding to the glass of melting ice. 

“You put a fucking ice cube in me and I’ll—“ he snorts, but grabs an ice cube all the same. 

“Only I belong inside you, baby, nothing else,” and he presses the ice cube to his lips, your eyes hypnotized as you watch him drag it back and forth, until he lets it slip into his lips, melting as he leans down, “now let me cool you off,” he presses his lips to your clit, a short kiss that has him melting all the same. 

You jerk. Cold. His lips tingled as his lips enveloped your clit, and his tongue was no better. Fucking freezing, a yelp that he rips from your body, as you can’t help but squirm. But he doesn’t let you get away that easily. Because nothing about the two of you was ever easy. 

His fingers press into your hips, arms pinning your body to the mussed sheets of your bed, as his tongue circles your clit, cold ebbing away with each stroke, until he’s lost in the warmth of your pussy. 

And Satoru only could wish he set up a camera — so he can watch you again and again with your gaze hazy with lust, tears welling like the condensation on the glass on making your eyes just as glassy, but you stared at him all the same. 

So he might as well give you a show.

“Fuck, could live in this tight cunt, you’re gonna be the only sweet thing I drink all summer,” the only summer drink he will settle for — the only thing sweeter than sugar itself — and he only one he wants. His tongue parts your folds, sinking deeper past your entrance, until he’s practically tongue fucking you, face buried in your cunt.

“T-Toru, ngh, too much,” and it was all too much for him — your soft moans, the lewd squelch of your pussy, the tremble of your thighs as he ate you out, and his tongue pulls back a moment, choosing to focus on your clit, as he sinks a cold finger inside, “fuck!” 

“Now you’re getting it, Princess,” he coos, and your scowl only lasts a second as his thick finger fucks you open, “gotta make sure I fit don’t I?” 

“You’re so fucking full of it—how about less talk and more—“ and he presses his erection against your leg, letting you feel how hard you’ve gotten him, and how fucking much he could cum in his boxers here and now. And you whimper, pussy clenching at the sight of him, “Toru, how will you—how—“ 

He’s so fucking big. 

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart,” and he’s slipping in a second finger, as his tongue laps at your clit, “I’ll make myself fit,” and he would be the only one who would fit, the only one that could fuck your cunt, have his fingers curling deep, the only one making your head loll back against the pillow, “she’ll let me in, fuck you right, make sure I can carve out a nice place for myself — when I fuck every inch of her,” 

And his fingers piston into you, surely pruning with how your pre slips down his wrists and the wet sounds of your sloppy cunt grow louder, almost louder than the moans you make. 

Almost. 

“Said I’m the fucking worst, but it sounds like I’m the best, huh?” and you’re too far lost in the pleasure, nodding your head, as he’s fucked all the logic from your mind — leaving only want behind. And it seems like you both were on the same page now. 

It was nasty, the way his tongue took turns lapping at your walls, before teasing them open with his fingers. The way his sweat dripped down his face and mixed with your pre as he glued himself to your pretty pussy — and he was sure he could die of heatstroke with how fucking warm your pussy was. 

And he would die happy. 

But he knew you were close — with the way your hips were nearly grinding against his face and fingers, spit mixing with pre as he pulled away a moment, continuing to hit every spot that drove you to the edge closer and closer, “G’nna cum already, baby?” His taunting lilt makes you scowl, even with how far gone you were,  “s’cute, is it that easy?” 

“T-toru, I swear—“ and his lips latch to your clit, sucking hard, right as his fingers find that spot—and he swears your soul leaves your body, your body tenses under his touch, lovely lips falling open with his name on it as you cum. 

Well, more like squirt, your release making even more of a mess of yourself, the sheets, and him. It splatters across his face and hands, and he’s groaning, vibrating against your cunt, as he fucks you through your orgasm, sucking and slurping every drop you gave him. And it’s a feat as you absolutely drench his mouth, slick, sweat, and spit, dripping down his jaw. 

And he’s a fucking vision, once you get it back, far gone in the pleasure, as he continued to lap at you, until he finally pulls his fingers from you, and your eyes flutter open, chest rising and falling as you watch him lick each one of his digits clean, sliding him into his mouth, “what? Y’know i love my sweets,” his tongue then darts out to clean your slick from his face, before wiping the rest off. 

You’re reaching for him, eager fingers finding his shoulder, as you tug him on top of you, before flipping him with ease, so his back hits the mattress. He stares up at you — and god, did he always look at you like this? And how did you never see it — and how would you ever stop? 

“Princess—” but you don’t let him protest, lips meeting his, a soft groan as you taste yourself on his lips, palms sliding down his sticky chest, and your lips journey downwards, ghosting down his body. Your lips linger over his raised nipples, tonguing and teasing them, a hint of sweetness that lingers from his popsicle undoubtedly. 

“And you said I was sweet, you’re the one covered in melted popsicle,” you mumble, and he smirks, but his reply melts into a groan as the tip of your tongue traces the ridges of his abs, “can’t take it, Toru?” 

“F-fuck, can you blame me, sweetheart? Been thinking about this for too long. Wanted nothing more, nothing more than you,”  and your lips graze down his happy trail, a sharp inhale as he shudders as your fingers dip into the elastic of his boxers, tugging it down.

He’s perfect — just like every part of him, almost annoyingly so, if you weren’t too busy drooling over it. Swollen tip flushed a deep red, while the rest was a perfect blush pink that you wanted to paint your cheeks with, glossy with precum and sweat, begging to be touched. 

And you were more than happy to oblige. 

He nearly cums then and there when his cock grazes your cheek, smearing his pearly precum across your face. You turn your head, letting his tip drag over your lips, painting your lips with his pre. 

“Shit—“ he sucks air between his teeth, fingers digging into the sheets of the mattress, “not gonna last long at this rate—“ 

“I’ve barely started, surprised the honored one hasn’t cummed in his boxers yet,” he pouts, before he’s hissing as your lips press teasing kisses to your inner thighs, “can’t handle the heat?” And the tip of your tongue licks at the pubes above his cock, the melted sugar water clinging to the skin there, leaning down to kiss the tip of his cock— “then maybe you shouldn’t have started this—-“ 

And his fingers sink into your flesh, and now you’re on your back, sweat making you nearly stick to the sheets but you could care less with the sight above you. His cheeks flushed as he looks at down at you, but his lips curled in the same grin he always had, “oh, I’m going to be the one end it,” 

“End it? Don’t tell me this is the last I’m seeing of you,” vulnerability creeps back in a moment, and his fingers traces the curve of your cheek and down to your lips — “didn’t take you the type to hit it and quit it,” 

And he snorts, “I didn’t take you as the type to know what that means,” but his thumb rubs back and forth across your bottom lip, “but do you think after all this time I could ever quit you?” 

His fingers grasp at the base of his weeping cock, groaning as he teases your entrance with his tip, marking you with his precum, your gasp making his dick twitch, as if it’s begging to be inside you. “All of this is for you,” he grunts, guiding your hand to his chest, feeling his heart thus underneath your palm, “it’s always been for you,” 

“I’m starting to think you didn’t wanna just fuck the heat away,” and he laughs, his tip kissing your entrance, just as he brushed his lips against yours. 

“Well, who said that was the only reason?” And he’s sinking inside you, inch by inch. And there far too many fucking inches. He groans at the sight of your folds, swallowing his cock whole, walls stretching around his length, “look how good you take me — this perfect pussy was made for me, isn’t that right?” and you’re nodding wordlessly, lips parted in a silent moan, as your walls pulled him deeper and deeper, “not g’nna be able to control myself, shit, feels too good, princess,” 

“Feels too good to be like this,” you’re panting as the words leave your lips, your eyes glassy with lust — Satoru swears you could look at him, and it would be enough for him to fuck you all over again, “too big, Toru — you gonna fuck me stupid,” and you can feel his dick grow, pushing against your walls as he bottoms out, and you whine in return, “hngh, I wasn’t being serious—” 

“So tight,” An almost guttural hiss pulled from the back of his throat, and he’s smug as he looks down at you, mouth fallen open, “I’m always serious about fucking you stupid, sweetheart,” as he lifts your legs, pressing them to your chest, your ankles dangling next to his head, as he kisses the soft skin there, a wicked grin, despite the sweat trickling down his face, “it’s the one time I can be smarter than you,” 

He’s torturing you. Torturing you as he grinds his hips roughly against you, the lewd noises of your sloppy cunt and the sticky perspiration between your bodies deafening, yet still won’t give you what you want. More than that, the heat between your bodies was too much — flames engulfed every muscle with every brush of his body against yours, every twitch of his dick inside you, and veins full of fire rather than blood. And you were sure you’d spontaneously combust in this heat, and he’d still fuck you all the same — letting himself be swallowed up by the fire just as well. 

Your moan was almost unrecognizable to you, the pleading in your voice bone deep, just as the heat was, “Please, Toru, move,” and he’s grunting, and you know he wants you — has wanted you all these years, and he only smiles at your words, a short laugh on his lips. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” and his fingers dig into your hips as he begins to fuck you, hard and fast. His balls slap against your skin, the noise ringing in your ears, and your cunt resists every time he pulls out — as if you never want him to go. And he never will. He can’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing you like this — see the way your lips part in moans; the way your eyes glaze over in pleasure; the way sweat drips down your face, running down into the divot between your tits; the way your tight cunt bulges at the sides as you take his dick so well — no, this is a sight just for him, “s’pretty, and all for me,” 

You’re already s’close after all the teasing all night, the sounds of his grunts and groans doing nothing to help as his tip rams against your cervix, and you’re sure his dick is fucking places you only dreamed of reaching, but still you can’t help but want more—so much so that the word slips from your mouth. 

He laughs, fingers pushing on the slight bulge in your stomach making you gasp, the sweat of his palm mixing with your own that gathered on your stomach, “Even when you’re getting your guts fucked, you want more, sweetheart?” and his fingers rub meanly at your clit, pinching and pulling at the sensitive spot as his tip hits that spot that has your vision blurring again and again, “I’ll give you anything you want, because you’re mine,” 

And you’re surprised the bed frame doesn’t break as he begins to slam into you, but it does creak, begging for a break, just as you had begged for this dick. Your eyes water as he rams into you, rutting like a dog in heat, and maybe he was — maybe you both were. 

“Toru, Toru, I’m close, s’close, I can’t—“ and you’re so cute, like this, whining and begging for him, for the thing only he can give you — and he’s twitching inside you, and he knows he’s not far behind. 

“Cum for me,” he nearly orders, and his words are the thing that makes the ribbon of heat in your cunt snap. Your toes curl, as you cum hard around his cock, walls squeezing and shuddering around him as he only pistons into you harder and deeper, intent on making you feel pleasure in every inch of your body, and he’s shifting your legs, hands helping you wrap them around his waist, as he ruts into you, chasing his own high. 

You’re boneless and long gone, as your chest bumps against his as he fucks you, but you still manage to find words to push him over the edge, goad him as you always did, because you know right where to touch (especially now). 

“G’nna cum inside me, Toru? Fill me up with your release?” and he swore he lost the ability to breathe, heat and your words stealing the breath from his lungs, as he ruts into you, mix of sweat and sex making his head spin, but not as much as your sweet cunt does. 

He’s close, he knows he is, especially when he looks to see the ring of cum and sweat around the base of his cock, and when your fingers thread through his white locks, thumb rubbing against his undercut, to pull him back into a bruising kiss, right as his cock hits your deepest part again—

“Cum for me, Toru,” and he does, uncoiling at your command, spurting thick ropes of cum inside your walls, painting your insides, as he fucks it deeper into you with every roll of his hips. Debauched groans leaving his lips as he murmurs how perfect you are, because you are — even more than he could have ever imagined. His thrusts slow, the sticky sweat and cum drenching both of you and the sheets alike. He pulls himself gently from inside, groaning at the loss of your warmth, but also wondering if your cunt doubled as an oven — the cool air of the fan sliding over his bare skin a relief. 

He eases onto your side, pressing sweet kisses all over your face, before you bury it in the crook of his neck for a moment, before pulling away, “You’re all sticky,” you wrinkle your nose, with a whine, and he laughs, a shit eating grin on his lips — more euphoric than sarcastic. 

“Well, who’s fault is that?” and you’re pouting, brow furrowed. 

“The same guy’s bright idea it was to fuck in the middle of a fucking heatwave,” and he props himself up, the sheets nearly glued to him as he took in the damage, mussed and ruined with the mess of cum, sweat, and spit all over, “you’re buying me new sheets,” and he chuckles, leaning over to peck your lips. 

“I’ll buy you a new bed if you ever let me do that again,” and you shake your head, eyes fluttering open and then closed, as he nosed as the column of your neck, completely fascinated with the way your skin was glowing still after all of that, “you just gonna doze off after all of that? Such a nasty girl, we gotta clean up after all that, don’t we?” 

“Don’t wanna get up,” and he chuckles, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, but the touch seems to make you whine, “fuck, but its so hot,” 

“And yet I didn’t hear you complaining when I was fucking you,” he tilts your chin up, glazed over eyes fluttering open to meet his, and how was it that your gaze alone was enough to want him to pin you down and fuck you all over again? “Told ya it was a good idea to fuck the heat away,” 

“Except when it ends up like this,” and he sighs, the creak of the mattress underneath, as he gets to his feet, “what are you—ah!” he’s lifted you into his arms, sweat soaked bodies sticking together nearly as he carries you through the living room, making a small pit stop to grab two ice cold water bottles, sounds of the TV still floating through the apartment, towards your shower. 

“Who said this heatwave was over yet?” 

A weather report was playing, a snippet Satoru caught before he shut the door. Reports say the heatwave is going to continue for the rest of the week. Residents are advised to stay inside until things finally cool down!  

“You hear that, sweetheart?” as he sets you down, turning on the water of the shower, letting the cold water soak you both, as he loomed over you, pinning you against the shower wall, “guess it’s just you and me for a week,” and he opens the water bottle, taking a sip before pressing his lips to yours, forcing you swallow the water, tongue seeking after it. 

His fingers rest below your chin, as his lips ghost over the curve of your jaw and the slope of your neck, before his teeth graze the hollow of your throat, as his fingers sneak down to tease at your aching cunt, sinking in to stuff his cum dripping down your thighs back inside, “lucky I know just how to keep you cool, right?” 

✧ a/n: its been super hot here where i live and i'm dying so i want gojo to come fuck the heat away.

✧ taglist: @mysticaltigersorceress, @kentocalls, @biblioth-que, @dreamtardisspace, @augustwinesworld, @totallytatum, @hanxyy, @sxnkuna, @spindyl, @rosiesroseas, @kxouri, @elisaj313-blog, @theelegantpotato, @peppertoastuniverse, @alwaysfreakingout, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @pompompurin-rambles, @catsgomurp, @admirxation, @ninikrumbs, @equanimoushuman, @mysticaltigersorceress, @eightantseatingapplesss, @notgoodforlife, @satowooo, @gojo-gets-me-wetter, @ivypinsss, @fayyyrieee, @hcn-eyes, @designerpvssy, @mua-for-now, @sukunabish, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @suguwife, @forest-fruits-jam, @pinkyvomit, @ranatherealestsigma, @gojosbrat, @megumibrainrot, @pxppygirl

[gojoest]

curiosity — gojo satoru

MDNI, f! reader, childhood friends to lovers, satoru is painfully aware of his own feelings while reader is not, mention of past girlfriends (and how they all looked like you), handjob (m! receiving), cumming in pants (and in your hand), not proofread, wc: 2k, dividers by @/cafekitsune

synopsis: gojo satoru is your childhood best friend. you’ve been inseparable ever since you were little. spending day and night together, you’d often have sleepovers together — a tradition you both carried on throughout your college years. at least once a week you’d drop by his dorm room and stay the night, or vice versa. but compared to your childhood days, you no longer share one bed. that is, until . . .

part 2

a/n: this is a further (and very lousy) elaboration on this post of mine but hey, HAPPY BDAY TO MY ONE AND ONLY

“i think we should try sleeping together”, you suggest one night.

“wah—“, satoru gasps, a teasing glint in his eyes. “didn’t know you felt that way about me”, he smirks.

“just sleeping”, you quickly clarify. “whatever obscene thing you just thought of — it’s not that”, you add, giving him a roll of your eyes.

“you should pick your words more wisely”, he scoffs. “if you go around telling people you want to sleep with them, they will misunderstand”

“ugh”, you huff, “i obviously didn’t mean it like that, and you know it”

“yeah, i do”, he lets out a soft chuckle. he knew exactly what you meant, but still he disguised his wishful thinking behind a teasing remark. “why though? all of a sudden?”

“dunno”, you shrug. “just feeling bad that you always take the floor”

“if that’s the case we can just swap”

“no — i cherish my comfort. come on, we used to do this all the time”, you pout.

indeed you did. but you were kids back then, things were different.

his heartbeat would race and his face would get all hot and red, the heat would fester through his entire body. but when the lights were off it was easy to hide it, the signs that he liked you. after making sure you were fast asleep, he would hold your hand and childishly smile to himself, he would peck it softly, secretly. one time you woke up in the middle of the night and almost caught him but he, startled, kicked you off the bed. yelling at you, lying, how you pushed your finger in his nostril in your sleep… he was so embarrassed, but also relieved you believed what he said was true. his secret was safe.

but now?

when you stand too close to him his body starts acting up in more mature ways. while he is better at controlling his facial expressions now and hiding his nervous heartbeat behind a nonchalant attitude, he struggles with keeping his urges at bay. he’s no longer the boy that blushes while secretly holding your hand; he is a man who craves you.

even when he’s laid on the futon beside the bed you occupy, the sound of your breathing alone gets him hard. you lie there, sleeping innocently, unaware of how much of a pain in the crotch you are being to him. when you leave in the mornings, he climbs onto the bed that is soaked with your scent and shamelessly jerks off. he stands on his knees and sprays his load on the bedsheets. eyes shut close, he pictures you beneath him.

he sighs in defeat. “fine”

“the right side is mine — it’s only natural, because i am always right”, you snicker and quickly pad over to the bed, plopping your body down on the mattress. “sure”, he chuckles and follows after you, sinking himself right next to you.

it is a bit awkward, you must admit. you are laid on your sides facing each other, in silence.

it’s cramped indeed, your knees are brushing against his and the space in the middle separating your bodies from one another is very scarce. but that was to be expected, the beds in the dorm rooms were designed for one person after all.

“so”, you break the silence. “how’s your girlfriend doing?”

“she’s not my girlfriend, anymore”, he states dryly.

“but it’s been barely two weeks since you started dating”

“well, things didn’t work out i guess”

the girls he dated, all of them looked a bit like you. same height, same hair color and length. similar facial features… he never lasted long with any of them though. all of them, visibly bothered by your presence in his life, would too soon ask him to make a choice — either them or you. neither of them aware that he chose to be with them in the first place only because they reminded him of you, and that it was never the question itself that drove him away from them. it was bound to happen, sooner or later. they could never be you.

you hum. “i see”

as you shift to make yourself more comfortable, you feel the shirt he gave you to wear to bed roll up ever so slightly, revealing the bare of your belly. a bit self-conscious now that he’s next to you, you are immediately urged to cover yourself. you slide a hand under the blanket, rummaging around to get a hold of the hem, but oh...

…the back of your hand brushes against something stiff. the friction incurring a low pant from the man, your best friend, next to you.

“fuck”, satoru hisses. his hand clasps around your wrist, pushing it away, but along with the movement his knuckles graze the flesh of your stomach. “fuck”, he curses again.

“satoru”, you say his name, voice hushed and timid but there is a note of underlying curiosity he is way too familiar with.

this is exactly why he was avoiding the one bed scenario — his boners were too hard to hide at this age and this size of him.

“satoru”, you repeat. “are you hard?”

“i wish you didn’t ask the obvious”, he mumbles, embarrassed. warmth washing over his face uncontrollably, just like in the past. but there was a bigger problem now — down in his pants, and the fact he got caught.

“is it because of me?”

“no”, he clicks his tongue, his grip still tight around your wrist, keeping your hand at bay. “it’s because i didn’t jerk off tonight, you know — it’s a natural thing for us men to randomly pop a boner throughout the day”

…which was true. but it was not the case right now.

“can i play with it a little?”, you ask, sneakily twisting your wrist in an attempt to free your hand.

“oi!”, he yelps. “did you hit you head or what?”

“i am curious”, you blurt out. “just a little?”

“stop”, he warns. “it’s weird”

his resolve is hanging by a thread right now, you’re too cunning to tempt him like this. he knows things will get awfully messy between you if he lets you cross this line. but still, he can’t flat out deny you. deep down he wants you to persist, a little bit more… if you ask him one more time, maybe he’ll crumble. surely, he will.

“it’s not”, you reassure. “i won’t jerk you off, i’ll just touch it”, you explain. “please? just a little?”

well. fuck it.

“this is a bad idea”, he says, but loosens his grip around your wrist. “fine”, he mumbles. “but just a little”

you nod, pulling your hand away only to slide it down his body.

you’re not really sure why you were so happy to hear the news about his break-up, but you always felt more at ease when he belonged just to you. your best friend, and not someone else’s boyfriend. you don’t know why you were doing this right now, or why your heart was racing. maybe because it really was weird? or maybe you were just horny?

finding his cock wasn’t difficult, it sure stood out from the rest of his body.

“you really are hard”, you gasp, running your fingers across the bulge in his shorts, dragging out a throaty groan out of him.

“yeah”, he mumbles. “like i said, stop stating the obvious”

“it’s a bit wet here”, ignoring his words, you thumb the spot where his tip is, making him squirm. his body slightly jerks as you press your palm against it. cupping it inside your hand you squeezing it gently. “it’s warm too”, you keep exploring further. “it has a pulse”

satoru lets out a helpless whine. “you sound so dirty right now, it’s weird”

he’s longed for this type of intimacy with you for years. but in his head, he pictured it differently. it was him who was supposed to do things to you, not the other way around. he was supposed to be the confident one, delving into your layers, making you squirm and fall apart under his touch. not the other way around… but this was good too. too good for him to oppose it. you were his weakness, after all. you always have been. no matter how much he teased and picked on you, in the end he always let you do as you pleased. this was not an exception.

you giggle to yourself. “yeah? you like that new side of me, don’t you?”

“…maybe”

sneaking your hand through the front of his shorts and boxers, you feel the flesh of his cock directly. it was twitching, his tip slick with precum. you put the tip of your index finger on his slit and rub circles around it to smear the pre oozing out of it, getting another soft whimper out of him. the head of his cock all slippery now, urging you to rub it all over the rest of his length.

your fingers wrap around his cock as you start to move your hand up and down, slowly, smearing his own slick onto his own flesh.

he tries to swallow the moan stuck in his throat. “you said you were not going to jerk me off, but what now? you’re playing a bit too much, don’t you think?”

satoru can last long. under normal circumstances, that is. but having you — not just his hand, but you, his first ever love, his only love — touch him like that, he could barely hold back. the urge to bust has been there since the moment you put your hand on his cock.

“why? you gonna cum?”, you slip your hand lower, down to the base of his shaft — where his balls are. you caress them tenderly, incurring yet another soft groan from him, before you go back to stroking him again. with each drag you pick up the pace. the room is filled with the squelching sounds caused by your hand, at this point, confidently fisting his slick covered cock, and his heavy breathing. 

“hey”, he puts his hand on your cheek, softly pinching on it with his fingertips. an attempt to make you snap out of it, but alas — you don’t back away. “don’t regret this”, he whispers, almost beggingly. but his voice comes out too shallow for your ears to pick up on.

“are you close?”, you peek at him, watching his face with rapt fascination, grateful that you left the night lamp on.

never have you ever seen him like this. his cheeks so hot and flushed that his pale skin was lit completely red, up to his ears and his neck. beads of sweat across his forehead with strands of his hair stuck on it. mouth agape — huffing and puffing. his brows knitted, desperately. pleadingly. his mouth telling you to stop, yet his face told a different story. so did the part of him inside your palm. it made you throb, down there, and squeeze your thighs together. your own wetness spurting out from your slit, drenching the inside of your underwear”

“fuck—", he growls. “i am— c-close”, he stutters, struggling to control his breathing and the moans that roll out of his mouth.

you feel his cock twitch in your hand, differently. the pulse on it beating faster and more brashly, like it almost made his skin stretch and push against the flesh of your palm. and then, there was a delay. a few, very short seconds in which his cock stood still before violently exploding, pumping out a thick shot of cum. then some more, and more, and more — until the pouring turned into a light dribble toward the end.

“ugh”, he throatily groans, his body relaxing after oozing all the tension out. although slower now, you keep stroking him, running your fingers across his softening cock.

“oh wow”, you gasp, his cum sticky on your skin, drenching the space between your fingers. “what a mess”, you giggle.

“you’re trouble”, he sighs. “is your curiosity satisfied now?”

you nod.

“if you get curious about other things”, he pauses, scratching the back of his head, “come to me. don’t go to other men”

“i’ll think about it”, you smirk.

after that night, you stayed over for an entire week.

this little play time turned into routine, and you were no longer the only one playing.

[ghouljams]

Alone on Christmas? Mad at your dad?

Rating: E (MDNI) Words: ~11k Tags: Ghost x f!Reader, Dirtbag!Ghost, strangers -> ???, groping, non-con kissing, coerced consent, oral (F!Receiving), fingering, squirting, piv sex, kidnapping? Summary: A stranger online promises he'll make your parents' Christmas hell, and you're eager to take him up on the offer. You may have bitten off more than you can chew.

<Alone on Christmas? Mad at your dad?

[casual encounters]

“I am a 35 year old former SAS operator with no A levels, tattoos, and a motorcycle. I can play anywhere from 30 to 40 depending on if I shave. I’m a line cook and I work late nights at my mate’s bar. If you’d like to have me pretend to be in a long term serious relationship with you, to torment your family, I’m game.

I can do these things, at your request:

Openly hit on female guests while you act like you don’t notice

Start instigative discussions about religion and/or politics

Propose to you in front of everyone

Talk at length about my time in the army including what it felt like to kill a man(good or bad your choice)

Pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on(don’t drink much these days, but I know the drill)

Start an actual, physical fight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see.

Only pay I want is the free meal and the entertainment.”

-do NOT contact me with unsolicited services or offers

*

RE: “Alone on Christmas? Mad at your dad?” 

To:SASRiley@xxxxxx.xx

From:URHere@xxxxxx.xx

Is this offer still open?

*

RE: RE: “Alone on Christmas? Mad at your dad?”

To: URHere@xxxxxx.xx

From: SASRiley@xxxxxx.xx

Depends how far you want me to travel.

-S

*

RE: RE: RE: “Alone on Christmas? Mad at your dad?”

To: SASRiley@xxxxxx.xx

From: URHere@xxxxxx.xx

Any chance you’re in the XXXXX area? I’ll buy you lunch and we can talk details.

*

RE: RE: RE: RE: “Alone on Christmas? Mad at your dad?”

To: URHere@xxxxxx.xx

From: SASRiley@xxxxxxx.xx

Close enough for a free meal. I’m in XXXX

-S

*

RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: “Alone on Christmas? Mad at your dad?”

To: SASRiley@xxxxxx.xx

From: URHere@xxxxxx.xx

Let’s meet at Gallery Eats. Also can you send me an ID or something so I know what you look like?

*

RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: “Alone on Christmas? Mad at your dad?”

[attachment] [attachment]

Know you birds get jumpy, send it out to your little friends. 

Tuesday 15:30

See you there 

-S

*

He’s already at the shop when you get there, scrolling through his phone with his legs spread wide under the little wooden table, a full-face motorcycle helmet taking up more than half of the tiny tabletop.

You hadn’t realized how big the guy would be. Even sitting down he’s massive. You’d bet money he’s over six foot, and he easily eclipses the little cafe chair he’s settled in. His craigslist ad wasn’t lying when it said “tattoos.” The guy’s arms are covered in swirling black ink, and you follow the line of it up to the dark collar of his shirt where it peaks out to creep up his neck. He’s perfect. Your folks will hate him.

Dark eyes meet yours and a smirk creeps over his face, it tugs at a thin scar bisecting his lips.

He stands, and you bee-line for him.

“Thank god you look like your picture.” You huff, settling your bag on the chair across from him.

“That any way ta greet your man?” He grunts, holding a hand out. “Simon.”

You take his hand with a smile, and feel thick fingers wrap around your own. You glance down at the dark seal on the back of his hand, the carefully inked numbers already fading with age spelling out “141.” 

“So,” He smiles, leaning so far back in his seat that the chair tips, “How mad are we talkin’?”

*

It turns out Simon’s motorcycle isn’t his only mode of transportation. You roll up to your parents house in a half-wrapped muscle car that Simon claims he’s been “working on” and you can almost smell the distaste radiating off of your folks when they peak through the front window. Simon makes a big show of ignoring you while you try to get the oddly shaped Christmas gifts out of the trunk, lighting a cigarette and checking his phone while you struggle. Finally your parents decide to wander out onto their front step, and your father stalks over to take the bulkier gifts from you while Simon eyes him.

You grin at him, already pleased with his grumbling and glaring at Simon. Simon, for his part, offers a, “Sure it ain’t too heavy old man?” That makes a vein on your father’s temple throb angrily. He ambles after you and your father, and makes a show of giving your mom a once over.

“Sweetheart!” Your mother grimace-smiles at you, “Who is this?”

“This is Simon,” You sigh, leaning against Simon with a dopey smile, “My boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend.” Your mother grits her teeth, “You didn’t say you were bringing a guest.”

“Oh I know, but you can pull up a chair, right?” You gasp, “We’re not messing up your table are we?”

Your mother’s eye twitches. You know her well enough to know she’s already thinking about people bumping elbows at an overcrowded table. You can almost hear your little cousins complain about the lack of space. You also know she’ll never admit her annoyance in front of a guest.

“Of course not.” She smiles tightly, “The more the merrier.” She turns to Simon. “It’s nice to meet you Simon.”

Simon finally takes his cue, tossing his ashy cigarette onto the stone walkway with a flick of his fingers. He exhales nearly into your mother’s face before seemingly remembering last minute that, that’s rude.

“Nice to meet you,” His eyes flick down to your mother’s chest, “Can see where the bird gets ‘er tits from.”

You could scream with laughter the way your mother’s lips tighten into a thin line and her brows twitch down ever so slightly, the picture of barely contained shock and disgust. You can feel your father fuming on the other side of you.

“Why don’t we put presents down?” You chirp, trying to play at oblivious while Simon leers at your mother. She does her best to subtly cross her arms and tug the neck of her sweater closed. “Simon, do you have a hand to help dad?”

“Course, sweet’eart.” He hums, leaning to kiss your temple. A sweet gesture if he didn’t grab a handful of your ass at the same time, angled precisely so you’re sure your dad can see. “Christ you got a fat ass,” He mumbles, his voice low and graveled as he squeezes you again. You feel your cheeks heat in spite of yourself. It’s all pretend, all things you’ve talked about, but that doesn’t stop your body from reacting. His big hand lingers, fingers dragging over your ass as he pushes past your parents into the house. Uninvited.

You ignore your mother’s pointed look under the pretense of juggling presents, pushing into the house after your fake boyfriend.

Simon unceremoniously snatches the gifts from your father as soon as he’s in the house, haphazardly tossing the boxes under the tree while you carefully place your own presents, seemingly ignorant of your boyfriend’s lack of care.

“So how was the drive?” Your dad asks, trying to find something to talk about.

“Bloody awful,” Simon butts in before you can answer, he jerks his head in your direction, “‘ad to listen to the bird’s music the ‘ole time.”

“I thought you liked my music,” You pout.

“When tha fuck ‘ave I ever said that?” He snaps at you. You stifle the flinch and watch Simon’s brows draw down ever so slightly.

When you’d gone through all the details for this he’d told you to try and temper your flinching, assured you that you didn’t need to be scared of him, that if you were dating he’d never lay a hand on you. That didn’t stop his quick, harsh, response from startling you. At least the small crease in his brow made you think he didn’t enjoy the reaction.

“When we first met.” You smile, playing it off. 

“And you believed that?” Simon huffs, “Can’t believe I’m the first one to grab ya off the street with ‘ow gullible ya are.”

You blink at him, and turn to hastily cover for him to your dad.

“A consensual grabbing.” You assure him.

“Think I’m still deaf in my right ear from ‘ow loud ya screamed.” Simon grumbles, digging a finger into his ear as if to demonstrate his hearing loss. You feel your cheeks heat reflexively. Even fictional it’s embarrassing to imagine that you might have met a long term serious boyfriend in a kidnapping attempt.

Nevermind that the idea of someone like Simon grabbing you off the street is a major plot point in some of your favorite videos. You try to keep your mind out of the gutter, a difficult task with Simon’s fingers grazing your ass.

“It was a prank.” You continue covering.

“Bet actually.” Simon corrects in an attempt to make things worse. “Seein’ ‘oo could take the prettiest bird ‘ome.” He nudges your dad as if he’s bringing him in on the joke, “Should’ve seen ‘ow much this one struggled, should’ve known she’d be an ‘andful.”

“Your friends sound-” Your dad swallows whatever distaste boils behind his tongue in an effort to keep the peace, “interesting.”

“Served together.” Simon sniffs.

“Oh!” Your father seems to brighten at this new information.

“Lost a lot of good men, but kept all the worst, eh bird?” Simon tosses a smile your way. The playful grin lights up his face, tugs at his scars in a way that’s far too charming. 

“Where did you serve?” Your father asks, too eager for war talk.

“Went where I was needed.” Simon grunts. It’s an end to the conversation. You can see your father trying to think of where to go from there, if he should push for a different answer or ask about if Simon enjoyed his time in the service. He settles on exactly what you’re sure Simon was hoping for.

“So what do you do now?”

You almost brace yourself for his answer, and you’re glad for the added tension in your shoulders because it stops you from barking out a laugh.

“Beside fuckin’ the bird?” He doesn’t get another word out before your father growls out a loud.

“Alright-” that your mother cuts off with her well timed, if sudden entrance.

“Your aunt is on her way,” She informs you, “She’s excited to meet your boyfriend.”

“You got a lot of people comin’ ta this thing?” Simon asks, as if you hadn’t given him a full guest list.

“Just a few,” Your mother smiles, “my sister lives nearby so she’ll be bringing her boys.”

“Would’ve been nice ta know there were brats comin’ ta this thing,” Simon gives you a look and you pout.

“I told you this was a family thing.” You remind him.

“Didn’t know ya had so much family,” He sniffs, “Brother isn’t comin’ ta this too is ‘e?”

You have to stop yourself from grinning at the family landmine Simon so perfectly walked into.

“Henry doesn’t come to family functions anymore,” Your mother tells him curtly.

“Heard ‘e got tired of havin’ you scare off ‘is girls,” Simon grins, “thought you’d be a bigger bitch.” You choke. You mother’s gaze whips to you and you carefully go about adjusting the presents under the tree just so you don’t have to look at her. 

“Well I don’t know where you heard that,” The high note in your mother’s voice betrays her, the faux-calmness barely covering the boiling anger that’s starting to show, “but it’s not true.”

“Are you callin’ me a liar,” Simon’s voice takes an icy note in response and you glance over your shoulder to watch him roll his shoulders back. You can see the way his musculature moves even under his jumper. The threat is palpable, and also completely inappropriate for the situation.

He’s good at this.

It’s your father’s turn to diffuse the situation.

“You a footie fan?” He asks, because he’s ass at calming your mother (or anyone else) down. You can practically feel Simon’s attention shift, like the air in the room has to adjust to the pressure he exerts.

“City.” Simon huffs. You dad grins, and you know exactly what he’s going to say. Playful ribbing that somehow always ends in a screaming match.

“Manchester boy, eh? Ya find it hard losin’ to Liverpool all the time or do ya get used to it?” Your father jokes. The question hangs dead in the air. Simon hasn’t moved a muscle, so still it scares even you, and you know it’s just an act.

“You like chewin’ your food?” Simon asks, his voice so deathly calm that you grab his arm with  a laugh and pull at him.

“He’s just kidding Simon,” You placate, trying to pull your --wow this guy’s bicep is huge-- fake boyfriend away, “Right dad?”

“Oh come on,” You father tosses your way with a shake of his head, “I can handle a Manc-” He snorts and turns to Simon “-at least better than their players handle the ball.”

Simon flexes under your hands, and you physically can’t restrain him from shaking you off to stalk over to your dad. 

“Simon please,” You plead, you don’t even have to act, the way he grabs your father by the shirt collar you all but leap to wrap your arms around his waist and try to pull him back, “not again!”

“Again!” Your mother yelps as your father holds his hands up, eyes wide with fear.

“It was a joke,” Your father assures Simon.

“Fuckin’ better be.” Simon relents, releasing his hold on your father and turning those dark eyes to you.

“Look’t you grabbin’ me,” He grabs you before you can let him go, your muscles still vibrating with adrenaline. He holds your face with the same hand that had held your father, squeezes your cheeks with his fingers.“Real cute, thinkin’ you could ‘old me back.” Your stomach flips. “Taught you better’n that didn’ I? You want somethin’ you gotta ask, yeah?”

“I don’-” You try to shake yourself back to your senses and Simon squeezes you a little tighter, “Please let go.” Embarrassment settles hot in your stomach at the spark of… something in Simon’s eyes.

“There’s my girl,” He smiles, “Now give us a kiss love.”

You feel your stomach drop out, and you’re sure it shows on your face. Simon raises a brow. Your tongue feels too big in your dry mouth. You swallow and glance at your parents.

“I thought you said no PDA,” You try. This wasn’t in the brief.

“Just on the cheek then,” His smile is absolutely devilish, you wonder where he learned it, “Wouldn’t want ta embarrass you in front of your folks.” Your mother scoffs. Simon turns to glare at her and you rush a quick peck on his cheek just to get it over with.

His stubble is sharp where it pokes against your lips, but his skin is surprisingly soft. You almost hesitate pulling away. Your skin already feels hot with the humiliation of kissing a veritable stranger whose only goal is to antagonize your parents for the evening, so you don’t waste time with the action.

You’re saved by your aunt opening the front door with a loud, excited:

“Happy Christmas!”

Before she freezes in the doorway. Your cousins rush in, seemingly unaware of the tension and you take the opportunity to pull out of Simon’s grip.

“Is this a bad time?” Your aunt asks as tactfully as she can given the energy in the house.

“It’s a great time,” Simon answers for the crowd with a smile. Your mother throws an alarmed look your way and does her best to plaster on something less emotional for her sister.

“I thought you were gonna help with the presents,” Your uncle calls from behind your aunt, who immediately turns to help him get the boxes in. You see her vaguely gesture at the house through the crack between the door and the frame and wonder just what she’s trying to convey. 

This holiday is already off to a terrible start. Which is great. But you can’t shake the feeling that it’s going… worse than you’d initially thought it would.

“When are we eating?” One of your cousins asks, you turn to see the teen, Jack, staring at you. You suppose you’re the only adult that ever really gives any of them the time of day, makes sense he’d ask you.

“Uh,” you blink, trying to come up with a decent answer for him, “probably soon.”

“I wanna open presents,” One of the little ones whines.

“You gotta wait,” Jack tells him. 

“Ok!” Your aunt announces as she comes back inside, now holding gifts, “Looks like you’ve already started the party!”

“Haven’t even started drinking yet,” Simon assures her. Your uncle joins the fray, shuffling past you to set his gifts under the tree as well.

“You drink.” Your mother clarifies with a smile, she’s hiding the horror well.

“I’m the life of the party love,” He tosses your mom a wink and turns to look around. You assume for the liquor.

“What do you drink?” Your uncle asks, good natured as usual. That’ll change.

“Bourbon.” Simon hums, “But I’ll take a beer if that’s all ya got.”

“Sure there’s somethin’ around here somewhere.” Your uncle meanders over to your parent’s short liquor cabinet and starts rifling through the bottles. Your mother shoots you a look that practically begs you to stop him.

“Do you need something mom?” You ask, oblivious.

“It’s just a little early to start drinking, don't you think?” She asks, a leading question. You know what she’s trying to do.

“You sayin’ I can’t get a drink?” Simon asks.

“Let the man have a drink,” You uncle cajoles, “It’s a holiday!”

Your mother’s lips press into a thin line. She doesn’t comment on the glass your uncle pours for Simon, but she does retreat to the kitchen with your aunt in toe. You’re almost tempted to follow them and see what they’re saying. Maybe you could throw some fuel on the fire. Simon throws an arm around your shoulders before you can move, holding you against his side to keep you in place. You glance up at him, he doesn’t look at you. 

You tug your phone from your pocket for something to do, trying to look busy and uninterested in the chaos Simon is sowing, when it’s all you can think about. He manages a normal conversation with your little cousins, going through introductions like a regular person, even commenting on the shirt Jack is wearing. You glance at it and just know that was a fight with his mother. Looks like it’s based off some horror movie, blood dripping off a knife held aloft by a masked figure. Not very Christmas-y.

You can almost hear the argument that must have taken place when he’d put it on.

Simon must be smart enough to figure that out because he’s really hyping up the teen over the shirt. Talking about the movie and complaining about how his mom sounds like a bitch. Your cousin blinks at the swear before you see a grin split his face.

“Fuck yeah, is aunty letting us swear now?” Jack asks, too excited to contain it.

“The fuck is she the queen of England?” Simon laughs, turning to you, “Your mum’s not lettin’ ‘em swear?” You shrug.

“She says it isn’t ‘proper’.” Jack rolls his eyes.

“Fuck proper.” Simon snorts. He shoots you a look as he sips his drink. You’re sure Jack will be cussing the rest of the evening with Simon to back him up. Your mom’s gonna love that.

Your aunt comes out of the kitchen and grabs her husband to whisper in his ear. Your uncle glances at Simon and makes a confused face. One of the younger ones runs up to them and loudly asks:

“What’s fuck mean?” 

Simon averts his gaze and you feel his shoulders shake with restrained laughter. You have to hold it in yourself, the glare your aunt sends Simon’s way is too funny. The kid was bound to hear it from his brother eventually. Really, Simon is saving the teen from being grounded with that one.

Your mom comes sweeping into the living room just in time to save Simon from getting an earful. Your aunt’s glare transfers to her before she can fix her face. Your mother’s lips pucker, an unpleasant understanding that something is happening crossing her eyes. She ignores it, much like every other unpleasant thing you’ve witnessed with her, in favor of normalcy.

“Dinner is ready!” She announces.

“That was fast,” You blink, usually she spends more time milling about and waiting for people to finish a few cocktails.

“Well,” She smiles at Simon, “I thought I’d speed things up so nobody misses any other christmases.”

“Got nowhere to be.” He informs her.

“Oh I’m sure you’re mother would-”

“Mum’s dead.” Simon sniffs.

“Then your fath-”

“If the bastard was still alive I’d kill ‘im myself.” Simon smiles at her over the rim of his glass before knocking back the rest of the bourbon and pouring himself another two fingers, “You got me all night if I want.”

Your mothers lips pucker again, the slightest hint of distaste in her expression before she manages a smile.

“We’re glad to have you.” She offers. You expect she’ll still try to force you out early. “Dinner?”

“Bloody starvin’.” Simon grunts, pushing past her towards the kitchen.

Your uncle is already serving himself from the various pans laden with food. Your father isn’t far behind him, eyeing the roast like a man starved.

You grab one of the Christmas patterned plates and hold it out to Simon, letting him queue behind your father. He glances around and you watch his eyes land on your cousins hovering nearby.

“Adults serve first,” You whisper to Simon when he steps back from the line for food to let the kids cut in front. It’s a quiet motion that presses him into you, he glances back like he might give you an apology before he makes eye contact with your aunt and loops his arm around you instead. 

“What?” He asks loudly, “Your mum tryin’ ta starve the poor buggers or somethin’?” You blink at him. He raises a brow. “No heart under those tits, eh?”

Your aunt gasps and he gives her a once over. You keep your eyes on your little cousins as they happily load up their plates with turkey and mashed potatoes. One of the older boys smothers his whole plate in gravy and honestly, you can’t blame him.

“Can’t be jealous, ya clearly got the better ass.” Simon tells your aunt as you scooch around him to get your own plate. He catches you around the middle and pulls you back, curling over you. He tips your head back with a hand on your throat, thick fingers squeezing just enough to dimple the skin.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks. You barely hear him over the roll of butterflies in your stomach. Your cheeks blaze with heat, and you clench your thighs together tight at the way he glowers down at you.

“I’m gonna make you a plate,” You tell him, he pinches your cheek and lets you free.

“Good girl,” He tells you, “Got ‘er well trained don’t I?” He jokes to your aunt, who you can feel radiating anger behind you.

You don’t really know what he likes, but Simon is a big guy so you get him a bit of everything, loading up his plate like you do this every day. It’s probably too much food, but part of you sort of likes the idea that he’s eating what you “made” for him. You hand him the full plate and he smiles, you turn back to grab your own food --you must still be nervous from having his hand at your throat-- and he smacks your ass. You bite back the yelp that threatens to break free. The sharp sting of pain spreads through you like wildfire, blossoming over your skin even through your skirt.

You quickly pile food onto your plate, hoping your aunt takes your speedy exit as one of embarrassment and not one of- well a different sort of embarrassment.

You manage to squeeze into the seat next to Simon, feeling his thick thigh press against yours like a warm anchor. Your mother gives him a dirty look as he reaches to fool with one of the candles in the middle of the table. You’re sure she heard his loud announcement that she doesn’t care about her nephews. His other hand settles on your leg under the table and you stiffen. Thick callused fingers grip your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh with something you desperately want to call reassurance. He knows no one can see that, right?

You watch the rest of your family fill the table, your little cousins already picking at their food, stuffing salad leaves into their mouths and pretending not to lick the gravy off their fingers. You wait for everyone to take their seats before you pick up your fork and your aunt shoots you a look.

“I’d like to-” your aunt starts only to be cut off by your fake-boyfriend.

“I want ta make an announcement.” Simon tells the table loudly, the conversation goes dead, your mother’s eyes bore holes into you, begging for anything but an announcement. You think she might bend her fork with how tight she grips it watching Simon shove his chair back to drop to one knee. You clasp a hand over your mouth, doing your best to play the part of shocked girlfriend, despite having planned this. 

“Simon!” You squeal as he tugs a black ring box from his pocket.

“Lemme talk baby,” Simon hushes you and you shut your mouth quickly, “I know it’s only been a couple a months-” the look in your mother’s eyes could kill an elephant, “-but I’m mad fer ya, an’ I know birds like you get off market quick so if I wanna keep that ass to myself I bloody well better get ya tied down.” Your mother gasps.

“Shut ya gob, I’m tryin’ ta propose.” He snaps at her, and she leans back like she’s been struck. Simon turns back to you, and you feel a rush of heat drip between your legs at the look in his eyes. This guy should be on TV with how good an actor he is.

“Will you marry me?” He finally gets out and you nod.

“Of course I will!” You fling yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

His big hands find your waist and squeeze. You pull away to take the ring box and he nearly pulls you out of your chair, only to push you back into it as he kisses you.

Your eyes go wide and you struggle to keep your hands on him when all you want to do is lurch away. Not a good look on an excited and newly ringed up girlfriend.

But the way he kisses you makes your stomach churn. His lips cover yours and almost as quickly as you get used to the feeling his tongue is trying to force its way into your mouth. You rush to close your eyes only to feel his tongue, thankfully, retreat. And be replaced by his teeth, biting your lip hard enough to bruise, prying your lips apart to slip his tongue in and lick your teeth. 

Your head swims, your eyes rolling at the way his hands grope and squeeze you, tagging every soft scrap they can find while he attempts to devour you. He does something with his tongue, twists it against yours to tickle the roof of your mouth, and you make a noise without meaning to. It’s all you can do to remember to clumsily slide your lips against his. You’re not sure you make a pretty picture when he pulls away, his spit trailing off your slick, swollen, lips. You suppose this evening isn’t really about painting a pretty picture.

It makes you squirm to feel his big thumb swipe over your lower lip, dragging the poor thing down to see your teeth. 

A chill racks your body as his eyes follow the motion of his thumb.

Your father loudly clears his throat. Your mother looks mortified. Your little cousins are covering their eyes while the teen pointedly looks at his phone.

Simon rubs the ring on your finger, pressing the metal back and forth against your skin. When the fuck did he put that on you?

“I’d like to say Grace,” Your aunt tries to wrestle the evening back into familiar territory as Simon sets you back in your chair. 

Your family bows their heads and you smack your knee on the underside of the table as you jump, unprepared for how high Simon’s hand settles on your thigh. You don’t even hear whatever prayer your aunt is saying with the way the blood rushes in your ears at the wide splay of Simon’s fingers. So. Close. 

You settle your hand on his and try to push him back to safe ground.

Jesus this guy is strong. Pain in your-

“Everything okay over there?” Your uncle asks. You must have looked like you were struggling more than you thought you were. 

“Fine,” You tell him, even though things are decidedly not fine and Simon won’t move his hand, “Just fussing with the ring.”

“Oh yes,” Your aunt holds her hand out across the table, “let’s see it.”

You hesitate before taking your hand off Simon’s. He doesn’t move, seemingly settled with where he’s settled. You hold your hand out for her to grab, let her turn your hand this way and that. Simon had told you he’d grab a ring, so you haven’t actually seen it yet. It’s pretty. A nice pear cut diamond with a trinity of what looks like pearls on either side. You wonder where he got it, you’re just glad it looks less fake than costume jewelry usually does.

“How nice,” Your mother coos, it sounds even less sincere than her compliments usually do.

You’re thankful you don’t need to do much talking at dinner. Simon more than makes up for you. He talks at length about how “mint” your friends are --he’s never met them-- and how his mates are begging for a go with you. He explains to your teen cousin, at length, how his violent video games could be worse, after your aunt bemoans the fact he’s been playing war sims. He makes no move to censor himself, actually from the few conversations you’ve had with him, you think he’s swearing more than he usually does. He even manages to start an argument with your father about “taking the gloves off” during combat.

“Different once you’re in active combat,” He explains like he’s talking to your father, “You do what you have to, keepin’ your ‘ands clean isn’t exactly front of your mind.”

You glace across the table at Jack, the teen looks completely invested in whatever Simon is saying. You can almost hear the look your aunt has fixed you with, you’re sure you’ll get a call later about your fiance “encouraging him to get himself killed.” 

“Oh please,” Your father blusters, “if that were the case the royal service would be under investigation. We’d see it on the BBC: Special Air Service members torture civilians. What a load of horse-” Your mother coughs and your father shuts his mouth.

“Got plenty of men like me givin’ orders,” Simon digs into his pocket to pull his cigarettes, stopping with his teeth around the filter of one when your mother coughs loudly. He shoves them back into his pocket with a grumbled swear. “Like I told ya earlier, ‘s not the good men that come back.”

“You’re so cool,” Jack tells Simon with wide eyes. Your aunt smacks his arm with the back of her hand, reprimanding. Simon’s eyes narrow.

He watches your aunt the rest of dinner. The conversation drifts as plates are emptied. You attempt to stand to help clear the table, and Simon holds you in your chair. Your mother putters around the table with your aunt, you smile and thank them. You’re almost done. Then you can go home and wait for the flood of texts/calls from your mom.

You can just imagine the way she’ll try to convince you to break off your (fake)engagement. You’ll wait a few weeks before spinning up some story about Simon cheating on you. Your family will be so grateful Simon’s gone they won’t ask any questions.

“Does anyone want pudding or are we going straight to-”

“Presents!” Your youngest cousin cuts your mom off, rushing  to the tree as soon as his plate is cleared. Your aunt grabs him and brings him back to the table only for him to run over again. She manages to pull a gift from his little hands, and bring him screaming back to the table. You wince at the sharp sound, the fat tears rolling down the kid’s chubby cheeks, crying about opening presents. Your aunt reminds him shortly that there’s still dessert to get through. It barely makes a dent in the tears. The kid pulls at his mom’s grip, screaming and kicking. 

Simon’s hand on your thigh tippens its grip. 

You know, you know. It’s never fun sitting around with a kid throwing a tantrum, but you’re sure your aunt will handle it-

There’s a sharp crack as your aunt spanks the kid. Hard.

Simon shoots up from his seat.

Your little cousin’s tears turn to sniffles and a wobbly lip as his mom gives him a hissed warning. 

Your hands shake as Simon stalks around the table to grab your aunt’s hand.

“The one thing you’re not gonna fuckin’ do,” He tells her in a low warning tone, “is hit your fuckin’ kid in front of me.”

It’s so different from the anger he’d had with your father over football. You know that, that was acting, but this… It radiates off of Simon like a miasma, dark seething hatred, anger like you’ve never seen. Your aunt looks at him like she’s seen a ghost. Her eyes are wide and scared, her hand still holding your cousin’s arm squeezes tighter, like the child is her only lifeline. 

“Ow!” The kid whines, the sniffles starting again in full, “Mum that hurts.” 

Simon cocks his head, his own grip tightening.

“Let ‘im go,” Simon presses, his anger as cold as death, “Or I’ll break your arm.”

“Simon,” You don’t know what you’re hoping your voice will add to this, not even sure what you should do, all you know is that you brought Simon into this house which makes him your responsibility.

“He’s alright,” Your aunt tries to assure Simon, “aren’t you sweetie?”

“Mum!” Your cousin whines again. Your aunt lets go of his arm like it’s burned her.

“Now apologize.” Simon demands. Your aunt nods sharply and swallows.

“Mum’s sorry baby,” She directs the comment at your cousin but her eyes are fixed on Simon, watching him like a rabbit watches a wolf. “It was just a little spank.” You think the pleading justification makes it worse with the way Simon’s eye twitches. 

“I ever catch you hittin’ ‘im again-” Your aunt’s eyes dart to you, to the fake rock on your finger, “-and it won’t just be your arm I break.”

Your glance to your mother for- God you don’t even know, help? Maybe? She glares at you like this is your fault. Fair enough. Your uncle seems quicker on the uptake.

“Maybe we take Christmas to go,” He chimes in, “Grab the kid’s gifts, since they seem tired.”

Your mother grabs hold of this lifeline as quickly as she can wrap her head around it.

“Absolutely!” She hurries to the tree to start sorting out gifts, “Oh I didn’t realize they’d be so exhausted, we all know fits are just fits, right Simon?”

“I look like I’m throwin’ a fuckin’ fit?” Simon asks her, his voice still cold.

“You know I’m pretty tired too,” Your aunt agrees.

“I’m not.” Jack chimes in.

“Yes, you are.” His mom hisses.

“And it looks like snow,” Your uncle adds, “so we should go.”

You hardly get a word in before your cousins are rushed out the door, no hug or forced familiarity from your aunt as she and your uncle juggle presents and strapping kids into car seats.

Simon takes one of the armchairs in the living room amidst the chaos, dangling his glass with his fingers on the rim as he glowers at your aunt. Your attempt to help them gather presents is stopped by Simon pulling you down into his lap. You stiffen reflexively to try and leverage some of your weight off of him, and he pulls you to lean against his chest. 

Maybe it’s good you don’t say good-bye. You’re not sure anything you could say would sound sincere with the way you’re perched on your fake fiance. You’ll definitely be hearing about this later.

You’ve never seen anyone in your family leave that fast. Your mother must blame you for this social faux pas with the way she glares at you. She���s not even trying to hide it, seemingly having deemed Simon as unworthy of her usual polite routine. She stops just short of yelling at you in front of him. Must be too afraid of what he’ll do to her if he’s willing to break your aunt’s arm over her kid.

You’re not sure when you lost control of the evening, but you’re ready to go. Your aunt’s exit should be your exit too. You even open your mouth to tell your mother it’s been a lovely evening.

Simon beat you to it.

“Let’s open presents.” You’d almost call it an order with how edged his voice is.

“We don’t have any for you,” Your mother attempts, “it wouldn’t be fair to open them now.”

“Don’t need a present,” Simon assures her, “Bird’ll gimme somethin’ later.” Your mother’s eye twitches. Simon’s hand slides over your thigh, his thumb rubbing gently at the sensitive, clothed, skin. Your nerves must be on high alert to feel his touch so acutely. He gestures with his glass at the tree. “Go’an,” He orders again.

The tension in Simon’s form slowly seeps out of him as your parents shuffle presents out from under the tree. His body, which had previously seemed poised to leap at the slightest provocation, relaxes back against the chair as your mother hands you a present. She smiles at you warmly, almost pitying, when you thank her. Simon’s hand doesn’t leave your thigh, possessive in a way that feels too close to reality. 

“Oh wait,” You tell your mother as she pulls one of the gifts you brought from the pile. You slip from Simon’s lap, and for some reason he lets you, bent at the waist to point to a different box. His hand slides over the swell of your ass with an appreciative hum and you have to stop the tremor in your voice as your blood rushes south. “That one first,” You smile, “otherwise this one won’t make sense.”

The normalcy of it is more welcome than you’d thought. Somehow your usual family Christmas doesn’t seem as tense or fraught with conversational landmines now that Simon’s intruded. If nothing else you suppose he’s given you that. It’s certainly easier talking to your parents when they keep casting nervous glances at Simon to make sure this is an appropriate line of conversation. 

Simon, for his part, does little except keep you in his lap as you tear into the paper wrapped boxes. Occasionally his hand moves from your thigh to squeeze your stomach, or your side, as if he’s checking that you’re still all there. It’s not exactly casual, and the heat that builds between your legs as he drags his callused fingers across your stomach makes you want to squirm back into his chest, just to try and escape the ticklish feeling.

You try to focus on the gifts, drumming up the appropriate amount of excitement to look grateful while all of your attention is on the spread of Simon’s fingers. His hand splays wide against you and you try to trace the outline of it, distract yourself from how big his hand is. 

But distracting yourself from the spread of his hand directs you towards the spread of his legs, to the firm muscle of his thick thighs, to the slight softness of his stomach when your back starts to hurt and you lean against him with less stiff of a spine. Your eyes drift to the window as your mother coos over the knitting supplies and class pass to her favorite craft store. It’s so dark out, the sun already disappeared behind the horizon and the streetlights are doing their best to shine even when the night dims them. You’re already tired.

Your phone buzzes and you check it with a glance.

It’s a weather alert.

You scramble off Simon’s lap only to be dragged back into it.

“Where d’you think you’re goin’?” He asks, his hands grip your sides, fingers just brushing the edge of your bra. You can’t deal with the way being pulled like this makes your head swim. Fuck, maybe he could just grab you off the street and- NO.

“Simon,” You push at his hands, “problem.” 

“No problem love,” He hums. Lips brush the shell of your ear and you stiffen as heat blooms over your cheeks, “‘Cept you gettin’ up oll the time.” “It’s snowing.” You insist, still pushing at his hands.

Your father looks at you with confusion and glances out the window. It’s hard to see when it’s so dark out. You’re suddenly hit with a grim understanding of why the street lamps seem so dim. Your dad walks to the front door and tugs it open only to be pushed by the gust of cold wind and snow that rushes into the house.

The wind is positively howling.

Your father muscles the door shut and your mother nervously clicks on the TV to check the weather. She doesn’t even help your dad brush all the snow off him, worrying her lip as her eyes fix to the screen. 

“Not gonna be able to drive home in that,” Your father grimaces. Your mother shoots him a look before skirting her eyes around you to watch Simon. You can almost feel his smile.

“You wouldn’t mind us stayin’ ‘ere would ya?”

You flip on the lights in your childhood bedroom. Simon looms behind you. Reasonably you understand why he insisted on staying, even why he insisted on sharing a room. As far as your parents know you’re happily engaged, and as far as you could tell there was a blizzard raging outside. Honestly you’ve never seen anything like it, and if you didn’t know any better you might have blamed Simon for it. 

You have never in your life been more aware of another person’s presence. 

“In you go love,” Simon tells you, pressing you forwards with a hand on the small of your back. You stumble into your room and turn in time to watch Simon close the door. He bends down to unlace his boots and you manage to kick off your shoes in the time it takes him to straighten again. Now that you’re alone you feel on edge. All the casual friendly airs that Simon had been putting on when you’d met him before have done nothing to prepare you for the weight of his full attention. You’re only too happy when he turns to survey the room.

“I can take the floor,” You inform him, already gathering the spare blankets and pillows your mom had set on your twin bed. 

“Sit down,” Simon orders, your ass hits the side of your mattress so fast you haven’t even registered the command before you’ve followed it, “You’re takin’ the bed.”

His tone leaves no room for argument. You suppose it could almost be called kind of him to give you the bed.

“Sorry,” You tell him quietly, mindful of your parents in the next room.

“What’re you actin’ sorry for,” He huffs, “Sweet bird like you doesn’t mind sharin’, does she? Besides,” He knocks your knees apart with a big booted foot, “I still gotta get paid.”

You stare up at him, confusion plain on your face. 

“I thought you just wanted the meal.”

“Meal’s not finished, is it?” He tells you, “Never got dessert.”

“Wha-”

“Take your fuckin’ pants off.” His tone is clipped, short, and deep. It sinks into your skin, prickling goosebumps everywhere he’d touched earlier. Which feels like it must have been, well, everywhere. 

You should say “no.” Literally nothing about this man has given you any indication that he’s someone you should want to get undressed for, and he’s spent the better part of the day tormenting your family. Granted you did ask him to do that, and honestly his efforts do land squarely in the “pros” category, but he’s a little too good at playing a dirt-bag. And this? This just seals the deal on that particular observation.

So you should say “no.”

But the way his big hands had grabbed you, the way his tongue had wound against yours, the way he looks down at you now, hungry, makes you desperately want to do whatever he asks you to. 

“My parents are in the next room,” You whisper, glancing back at the wall that separates the two rooms.

“Who gives a shit?” Simon snorts, “Don’t ‘appy couples celebrate their engagement?” Your eyes flick down to his trousers, the implications aren’t lost on you. He must catch you looking because his hand grabs your hair and tips your head back. “Trust me birdy, I’m tryin’ ta be nice, but if ya wanna choke on it…”

You race to get your trousers open, fingers shaking as you push them down. You don’t need to see his cock to make some leaps of logic that it’s just as big as the rest of him, and if he’s offering you the choice between his mouth on you, and your mouth on him-

Simon leans forward and unceremoniously shoves his hand into your panties, your trousers barely down your thighs. Your train of thought comes to a full halt as big fingers stroke through your folds.

“Atta girl,” He hums, “much ‘appier like this, aren’t ya?” He tugs his fingers free, spreads them in front of your face with a pitying pout at the way your slick glistens on his skin. “Least your cunt knows what’s good for it.”

He pushes your head back, tossing it towards the bed as he releases your hair. Your back hits the mattress and you have to work to keep from hitting your head on the wall. Simon’s fingers find the hem of your panties and drag them down your thighs, catching your trousers to discard the lot on the floor. 

You snap your legs shut against the chill of the room and he growls. 

“None of that now,” He advises, prying your legs apart. His fingers dig into the soft meat of your thighs, his gaze fixed on the wet mess between them. The way he stands over you makes him feel massive, makes the way he leans over you feel looming. 

His hands slide over your ticklish inner thighs and you have to stifle the giggle that threatens to spill from you. You doubt Simon would appreciate your laughter, might even think you’re laughing at him. Again your eyes dart to the hard length straining against his trousers as his thumbs spread your folds.

“Pretty,” He says it so plainly, casually, like he’s judging a toy. It blazes through you, lighting up your nerves and making you shiver. Any other protests you might have had die on your tongue as Simon drops to his knees. 

Seeing him between your legs makes your stomach clench, makes your cunt pulse with desire. One of his thumbs rubs up and down the seam of your cunt while the other keeps you half-spread. He presses his thumb firmly against your clit, the pressure makes your hips squirm, makes you ache for more stimulation. The pressure stops, and his thumb traces its way back to holding you open.

He spits.

You flinch when it hits your spread folds, body vibrating with embarrassed heat as it slides over you. Simon’s eyes follow it the whole way down, and his tongue drags it back up.

Simon’s tongue cards through your folds, warm and wet, and he groans low in his throat. It’s positively sinful the way he pulls his tongue slow and flat over you, like he’s trying to savor the taste. You snap your hand over your mouth, stifling the soft whimper that the attention brings to your lips. 

Simon’s eyes flick to your face and he makes a frustrated noise. You feel his teeth touch your skin just before he bites you. You yelp at the sharp pain, your hand shooting from your mouth to his head in an attempt to push him away. Simon tips his head back to bite at the meat of your palm, his teeth digging into the firm flesh before his tongue licks over it. There’s a sharpness to his teeth, chipped edges that scrape at your skin and ache before he soothes them. 

You don’t want him to bite you again.

You don’t think you do.

Do you?

His tongue rolls over your palm, wetting the dry skin with spit and slick. His mouth has a heady sheen to it that makes you want to drag your tongue over his lips, to clean up the light prickle of his beard with your own mouth.

“No sense lettin’ you breath if you’re not gonna scream for me,” Simon informs you. Your face has never felt hotter than when his teeth scrape down your palm to tease your pulse. You’re too enraptured by the way he moves to let spit drip off his tongue and onto your clit to really register what he said.

His tongue rubs against your clit, working the firm bud back and forth before letting his tongue roll over it. Each hot swipe sends a new shudder of heat and pleasure through your body. You whimper, your wet hand tangling its fingers in his short cropped hair just to feel him shake his head like a dog. 

It’s filthy the way he drags his lips over your folds, sucking and slurping at you like he’s trying to be loud. His stubble scratches at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, prickly and sharp next to the warm wet mouth that sucks at your clit. His tongue keeps twisting over it, keeping it sensitive and tingling before he’s ducking down to fuck the slick muscle into your hole. Simon moves his tongue against the entrance to your cunt like he’s hoping to stretch out the hole with it, circling around the delicate outer edge before pressing inside, over and over until your brain feels like it’ll melt out of your ears. 

Then that wet heat is dragged up to your clit, circled and sucked, licked in broad strokes that wiggle against you just so he can hear the way your voice pitches up in pleasure.

He turns his head to wipe his mouth against your thigh, lips parting to lick a long stripe before he sinks his teeth into the meat of it and sucks. Your own lips close tight around the whimper the dull pain of it pulls from you. 

He muscles your leg up against his shoulder, his arm moving to find a comfortable angle as he hooks his thumb in your fluttering cunt. You blink at the intrusion, the thick digit may as well be two of your own fingers the way he pulls at your entrance and stretches you open. That isn’t what steals your focus from his mouth though, what tugs at you is the way his other thick fingers rub over your ass, spreading your slick and attempting to soften the hole into something pliant.

He’s grabbed your hips to roll you onto your stomach before you can raise a protest to the searching fingers, big strong hands dragging your hips up so your knees settle on the edge of the bed as he stands. It forces your face into the quilts, muffling the noise of surprise that the motion shakes out of you. Again you find protests on your lips, you hadn’t even come, and again they’re snuffed by his fingers.

Two of them push into your cunt and you moan low in your throat at the burning stretch that they provide. Your hips rock back into them, your stomach fluttering with need as more heat courses through you. His fingers crook and he thrusts them down into your cunt, hitting some throbbing tightness that makes you cry out.

Simon makes a low cooing noise in the back of his throat and his fingers stroke against your walls. You turn your head to rest your cheek against the bed, your lips pouting and your lashes fluttering as he gives you just long enough to suck in a breath before his fingers are pressing against that soft aching spot again. Your eyes roll, your breath caught tight in your throat at the thrum of pleasure that tightens like burning heat in your aching cunt.

His fingers pump faster and faster into your cunt, and you cry out, your hips wiggling and your fingers gripping at the quilt. The wet squelching noise that comes from his fingers fucking into you makes an embarrassed heat rush over your skin, and you burry your face in the blankets just to gasp out your moans. Your mouth hangs open, drool dripping off your tongue as your breath stops in your throat. The tight heat between your legs feels like it’s winding its way all the way up through your diaphragm. Your muscles are tensed so tight you think you might snap, and you let out a low moan as your breath finally shakes free. You suck in air between sobs, each punch of his fingers into your cunt pushing a new noise free of your lips.

The wet noises just get wetter.

And then something inside you snaps. Your stomach clenches tight and your cunt follows, spasming around Simon’s fingers as they pump in and out of you. Stars dance across your vision and you bite the quilts to stop from screaming. Something trickles out of you and he rewards your orgasm with a throaty chuckle.

He pulls his fingers from you and rubs soaked fingers over your ass before he’s trying to push one inside.

“Been eyein’ this ass all night.” He hums.

The firm pressure hurts the harder he presses, and you whimper out a sniffled reproach to the feeling, a soft “hurts” that you’re sure will fall on deaf ears. Simon stops, pulls his finger back and slicks it in your cunt again, the feeling of his fingers twisting against your soft spot making your eyes roll. It hurts, an overworked burn that makes you whimper for an entirely different reason.

He pulls his thick fingers from your cunt and you feel the tip of one teasing your ass again. It’s barely a pressure when his finger tries your ass again, and he lets out a slow breath as you’re filled.

“Just sunk right in,” He tells you, pumping his finger in and out, the drag of heat has your lashes fluttering, your head spinning at the deep pressure that makes your cunt clench, “Isn’t that pretty.”

His thumb catches your cunt again, tugging at the slick hole. The click of his belt and rustle of fabric clues you in to what comes next.

That doesn’t mean you’re prepared for how big his cock feels nudging at your entrance. A chill runs over your skin, goosebumps raising to meet the air where your jumper has slid down your back. The blunt head of his cock presses against your hole, and you arch your back into the feeling, desperate to find the right angle for it to slip in. 

Simon doesn’t seem as eager. He pushes into you slowly, lets you feel the way you burn and stretch around him, lets you feel every centimeter of that big cock. You feel tight, even as wet as you are, you feel like you’re squeezing the life out of him. Your cunt is hot and tingling, and your clit throbs with the need to be touched. 

You feel his hips press against your ass, and he grinds into you. Another wave of goosebumps rushes over you at the deep ache he pushes into. You squeeze your eyes shut just to stop the way they keep trying to roll back in your head.

Simon pulls back, and you can almost feel the drag of his head against your walls. He grinds the tip against the soft spot near your entrance before punching his cock back into you. You make a choked noise before your throat seems to open and a flood of moans and pleas flows from you. Each push of his cock into you pitches your voice up and you moan in desperate panting sounds.

You ache. You’ve never felt so full. He hasn’t taken his finger from your ass, instead he presses it down to try and feel his own cock stretching out your walls. You shove a hand between your legs to try and stroke your clit only to feel the stretch of your skin around his fat cock. You’re so wet that your fingers slip over your folds, uncoordinated, and you can’t get a good angle. You open your mouth but can’t find the words to ask for what you need.

One of his thrusts pushes you up the bed and your hand moves immediately to push against the wall with a ‘thump.’ 

“Simon,” You whine, “Simon.”

His free hand pets up your spine, bunching your jumper up under your armpits to unhook your bra, before finding its way to your hair. He curls his fingers and finds a tight grip near your scalp. The bite of pain makes you want to push back into him. The deep pressure, the slight sting, from your ass makes your body stutter, your brain crashing into itself.

Oh God.

“Not a thought in that pretty little ‘ead is there?” He asks, the fingers gripping your hair tight pull your head back, you moan your pleasure for him as he gives a hard thrust into you, your bleary eyes opened just enough to focus on the white wall. “Course not,” Simon grunts, a huff of laughter edging his voice, “Wouldn't've responded to my ad if there was.” 

You reach back to claw at his thigh and find it still, painfully, clothed. A burst of humiliation shoots through you at the thought that Simon hasn’t even bothered to get undressed. 

“Stupid thing, really could’ve just grabbed ya off the street.” He mumbles, there’s a touch of fondness to his voice, a smile that doesn’t feel appropriate for the way he fucks into you. Like he’s trying to teach you a lesson.

The only thing you’re learning is that Simon’s cock hits something deep and needy inside of you. The finger in your ass starts to pull out and you scream. Simon groans as you tighten around him, your cunt desperate to keep his cock inside. You’re buzzing with your orgasm, settled right at the edge with nothing to push you over the edge. There’s too much stimulation. His cock pistoning into you and his finger starting to tug at your ass. You’re still sore from his fingers but you can’t stop yourself from clenching tight around him.

“Mad fer it,” Simon chuckles, “tell me what ya need bird.”

“Clit- clit,” You stutter out, still barely able to keep the words straight in your head. 

“Louder love,” He teases, “don’t think I heard ya.”

“Please,” You sob, your moans still tearing from your chest on each thrust, “touch my clit.”

He drops your head back down onto the bed, and you muffle your noise with the quilt clenched between your teeth. His finger pulls from your ass and you scream your pleasure into the bed. It’s so hot, your ass burning with something that isn’t entirely painful. It just makes your clit pulse harder. 

Simon’s fingers find their way between your legs and he pinches your clit between them. One roll of the tight bud between them has your legs shaking. The second has tears brimming at your lash line and your mouth hanging open as you flutter and drip on Simon’s cock. You tense and release around him, your orgasm crashing into you like a train. Waves of it rush through you, shaking your muscles loose until you’re laid like a doll against the bed. Your skin is burning and you ache,

And Simon keeps fucking you.

The smack of his hips against yours fills the room, his breath heavy and his fingers now tight on your waist. You push back into his thrusts and it makes stars dance across your vision. That deep aching part of you makes everything draw tight again. 

Simon’s thrusts grow quicker, rougher, his fingers grip you so tight it hurts. You scream for him again, his hard thrusts pushing you to the edge a third time. The blistering heat of his come hits your overworked cunt and you moan. 

“Too much,” You whine. Everything is sore when he pulls out. You don’t think you can move.

Your knees slip off the edge of the bed and you just lay there.

Simon rolls you back onto your back, and manhandles you into laying on the bed properly. 

You sit up just enough to tug your jumper off and toss your bra to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Simon ditches his shirt and you sleepily take in the cut musculature of his chest as he wanders to turn off the light.

You pass out before he ever gets his pants off.

*

Your parents have already gathered the presents from last night by the front door when you wander downstairs in the morning. Your father doesn’t look at you, but your mother positively glowers. You try not to think about how loud you’d been last night.

Simon’s had his hands on you since you woke up. His fingers splay wide on the small of your back, as your parents attempt to rush you out the door. 

You’re settled in Simon’s car, driving down the street when you finally let the laughter take over. You giggle and snort, pressing your fingers against your mouth to try and stem the flow of them. But really, what can you do? Despite being forced to spend the night putting a dent in your plans it’s worked out perfectly. Your parents won’t be asking about you getting a boyfriend any time soon.

If you’re lucky your mom will never ask you about your relationship status again, even when you “break up” with Simon.

You’re still giggling, glowing with happiness at a successfully executed plan, when you try to pull the ring off your finger.

Something sharp digs into your skin and you yelp in pain. 

“What the fuck?” You question, whimpering when you pull harder and it only sends the sharp bit further into your skin. You raise your hand to look at the ring, and find a sharp tooth just under the diamond, clearly a feature not a bug. Still you glance at Simon. “I think this ring is defective,” You tell him, “It keeps stabbing me.”

Simon hums, turning right down a street. 

“Then stop tryin’ ta take it off.” He advises. You twist the ring around your finger, trying to find  a way to work it off.

“I can’t get it off,” You grunt in annoyance.

“Not suppose ta,” Simon tells you plainly, taking another turn, “That’s how bein’ engaged works.”

Something squirms in your stomach.

“We’re not engaged.” You remind him.

“Wearing my ring,” He reminds you, like he’s explaining it to a child, “said ‘yes’ to my proposal-” A smile splits his face, predatory in a way that makes you press your legs together, “-probably still buzzin’ for my cock too. Sounds engaged to me.”

You balk, your mouth hung open as you gape at him. Is he insane?

Simon doesn’t even look at you, just reaches to the side and presses against the underside of your chin with gentle, firm fingers, closing your mouth. Then he leans past you to open the glove compartment and tug a crumple of papers out onto your lap.

“If ya get bored you can look over those.” He tells you, flicking on his signal to hop on the highway.

You glance down at the mess of papers settled on your thighs, a mass of text and fine print that your eyes can’t focus on because they’re so shaken by the two poised at the top:

“Marriage License.”

divider by @/saradika-graphics

[spideyjimin]

Before you | jjk

⤷ part of the dads universe

⏤ pairing: tattoo artist!jungkook x female reader 

⏤ genre: friends to lovers, angst, fluff, and smut 

⏤ rating: 18+

⏤ warnings: dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, long-haired!jungkook, pregnancy, mention of abortion, sexual tension, alcohol consumption, a lot of making out, finger sucking, thigh riding, masturbation, aftercare, mention of oral sex, swearing, some teasing, pet names, pregnancy kink, praising, a bit of jealousy, hickeys, handjob, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, protected sex, rough sex, creampie, overstimulation, and multiple orgasms 

⏤ words: 16,354

⏤ summary: jungkook has taken a huge place in your life after he tattooed you, and you can’t even picture how life was before him. he has always been there for you since day one. but how will things change after you find out you’re pregnant?   

⏤ author’s note: so guys, yesterday i tried to post this but it was a complete mess 😫 hopefully today it works without any issues! in any case, i’m happy to post this fic once more, especially since a lot of you asked for it 💜 it was a bit odd to read something i wrote years ago but it was at the same time intriguing because i’ve changed since i wrote it. hope you’ll like it 💜

MASTERLIST

OCTOBER 5, 2018

In a few minutes, Jungkook is coming.

You’re in your bathroom with a pregnancy test in your hands. Yong-ji, your best friend has convinced you in some way to do it, she thinks that you don’t have the flu. For the past week, you have had all the symptoms of the flu and you stayed home to rest a bit. But she doesn’t think that’s what you have. 

Before you can even see the result, there’s a knock on your door. Jungkook. 

He has no idea that you’re taking that pregnancy test, Yong-ji herself is not even aware. After she insisted several times, you told her that you wouldn’t do it. Unlike her, you’re convinced that you’re not pregnant. 

You leave the bathroom, put the test in the corner of the sink, and run to the door to open it for your friend. Jungkook has been around for a bit more than a year, and he has been one of your closest friends lately. Always there when you need him the most. And you’re just grateful to have met him. 

“You look so pale,” he comments when he sees you. 

“Hello to you too, JK,” you say, smiling back at him. “Come on in.” 

His eyes look at you with concern before entering your small apartment. It’s not huge, unfortunately, you’re not rich yet but it’s so comfy. You liked this apartment the second you first saw it because it was what you needed. 

“I brought some things to eat,” he says while walking to the kitchen with a little bag in his hands. “I guess you didn’t eat anything today.” 

That man understands you as nobody does. Although your friendship is very recent, he probably knows you better than Yong-ji who has been your friend for six years. You wonder how that's even possible. 

You’re just behind him, following him into the kitchen, and he puts his handbag on the small table. Today, Jungkook is wearing a sweater with black skinny jeans, and you know for sure that under his sweater, he’s wearing an oversized t-shirt that he wore all day at work.   

“How was your day?” you ask, trying to change the topic of your conversation. 

Your friend turns back to catch a glance at you before he raises an eyebrow. He’s perfectly aware that you didn’t eat anything during the day and that you’re changing the topic of conversation because you don’t want him to get worrier. Since you’re sick, he’s not going to say anything.  

“The same as always,” he says while rolling his eyes. “Clients came, I made a bunch of tattoos and I barely had the time to work on some projects.”

This last year, he has gained tons of new clients and he’s busy tattooing them most of the day. Before, he used to find some time to work on projects, but now, he doesn’t have that time. 

“You should find a partner to help you out with the clients,” you propose. 

Jungkook has already considered it but he doesn’t want to hire someone just to have more free time. He wants someone that can truly help him with the shop and the rest, and he’s convinced that it’s not going to be easy. 

“I’m too picky and you know it,” he grabs a fry from the bag and eats it. 

“Then, don’t be,” you answer, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He rolls his eyes as he takes off the food from the bag and places it on your table. “I don’t want some shitty person to tattoo my clients. So, I'm going to be picky and you're going to support me.” 

You open a drawer, taking two sets of chopsticks with two spoons before putting them on the table. You both sit in front of the other. 

Your eyes get lost in his for a split minute. At first, he might seem the cold type of person. His body is covered with tattoos, his hair is pushed into a man-bun, his fingers are covered with rings and he has some earrings. But it’s just appearances. This man is the sweetest and most caring person you’ve ever met.

A lot of your friends asked you if something is going on between you and Jungkook but you have never seen the man in front of you as more than a friend. Even the thought of it never crossed your mind.   

“But it was a good day,” he says, looking down at his food before he eats some rice. “All the clients were super nice and there was even a cute girl.” 

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the cute girl he met today. Jungkook's love life is quite calm. He's not the type to fuck every girl he sees, he prefers to date, fall in love, and take the time to love. He's just the romantic type of guy. 

“Don't look at me like that, yn,” he says, pointing a chopstick at you. “You’re too curious.” 

He sighs in defeat knowing that no matter what he’s going to tell you everything, and that’s what he likes about your friendship. You understand and know each other so well even though you’ve been friends for only a year, but it feels like you’ve known the other for like an eternity.    

“I just want to know what happened,” you say with a big smile on your face.

“We just talked and she asked me to call her one day,” he notices that you haven’t touched your food yet. “You should eat.” 

You take a bit of rice and eat it. Lately, it’s the only thing that you’ve been able to eat without throwing up. 

“And?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to call her?” 

Jungkook is hesitating. Yes, she’s cute and physically, she’s his type. But not too long ago, he was seeing a girl that just left him suddenly because she got back with her ex. He liked her quite a lot and he doesn’t feel ready to go back through all the date nights and the flirting things. 

“Don’t know yet,” he says nonchalantly. 

“You should call her, Kookie. You need to see somebody else other than me,” you tell him. 

“That’s not true, I see Namjoon and Yoongi,” you roll your eyes as he mentions his roommates. 

But Jungkook doesn’t spend too much time at his place with his roommates, he’s mostly with you because he loves to be around you, he loves how you make him feel. Oddly, you make him feel at home. He has never felt that with anybody else and he cherishes your friendship so much. 

His eyes linger on your left arm, smiling as he sees the reason that brought you two together. 

More than a year ago, you decided to get a tattoo and a friend advised you to go to Jungkook. You did some research about him and his work, reading a lot of opinions about him. After a while, you decided that he was the one, he was going to be the one who would do your first tattoo.

For Jungkook, you were just another client, nothing more. But you were kind of scared and nervous, and during the whole time, he was comforting you. It was the first time he was doing it. Usually, his clients hide their fears and put a brave smile on their faces. 

When you saw the lion on your arm, you were so proud and so thankful that he did it. It was just perfect, even better than you had pictured it. 

As he was doing it, he asked you why you chose to tattoo a lion. ‘The lion is known to be the strongest animal, and to me, this tattoo will represent my strength. It will remind me that no matter what life throws at me, I have to be strong.’ 

And he liked it. He liked how you’d look beyond the piece of art on your arm. He liked how he was not just tattooing a simple lion on an arm, he was tattooing your strength. After that, you naturally stayed in touch and you’re just happy to have met him.   

“And did you get any news from Minho?” 

Minho is a guy that you met some weeks ago and with whom you had a lot of fun. It was ephemeral but you had the time of your life with him. You don’t regret anything, you’re just sad that now, it’s over. 

You knew it was never going to last because you are both from two completely different worlds. You’re just a simple girl that barely manages to have some money at the end of the month while he’s one of the wealthiest men in the country. 

He's Park Minho, the son of the one and only Park Joonki. He has tons of holdings around the world and he controls basically everything in Korea. He’s truly very powerful, and the chances that you’d stay in a serious relationship with Minho were very low. 

“Nope, and I don’t think I’ll ever hear from him again.” 

“I thought he liked you a lot,” he says while eating. 

You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding. Jungkook was the first one to say to be careful with this kind of guy, and now, he’s kind of being nice to him. 

“He looked at you affectionately, but I just wanted you to be careful.” 

“In the end, we all knew this was just us having fun and nothing more,” you say. 

Even if you’re sad that it ended, you’re kind of grateful that it ended now. Otherwise, you know you would have started hoping for things, and the end of whatever you had with Minho would have been harder for you. 

“You truly deserve someone who loves you like all stars and the moon love nights.” 

A big and bright smile appears on your pale face, and Jungkook swears he has never seen anything prettier. Sometimes, he realizes that he looks at you like a man completely in love. Those moments are not very frequent but when they happen, they hit him hard and it’s very intense. 

You wonder if he knows the way his words make your heart stutter in your chest. But then you start to wonder why you’re even feeling such things for him, Jungkook is just your closest friend. But it's the first time that something touches you that much, not even your exes managed to make you feel that way. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you say, “and you deserve someone that loves you like Juliet loves Romeo.” 

Juliet and Romeo have a tragic love story, but they deeply loved each other. To you, Jungkook deserves to be loved with the same intensity. He deserves someone that would give his heart and soul to him because he’s the best human you’ve ever met. 

“That’s tragic,” he replies. 

You feel the urge to stand up and sit on his lap to caress his dark hair, but it would feel weird since he’s just your best friend. 

“Yes, but she truly and deeply loved him. That’s the love that you deserve.” 

His heart squeezes, and he looks away, feeling uncomfortable to glance straight into your eyes. He never thought that you’ll reply to his comment but he’s just happy you did.   

“Just reach out to that girl, okay?” 

Maybe she’s the one, maybe she’s the girl that Jungkook is meant to be with but he’ll never know it if he doesn’t call her. He raises his head up before nodding. 

“Now, eat. You’re scaring me with that pale face.” 

As he mentions your pale face, you remember the damn pregnancy test. But now isn’t probably the best moment to go and check out the result. You don’t want to worry Jungkook for silly things right now because you’re still convinced that you’re not pregnant. 

“I just have to go to the bathroom,” you say as you stand up and walk in the direction of the bathroom. 

As you enter the small room, you close the door behind you. Your heart is beating hard and fast. Although you think you’re not pregnant, you don’t know how you’ll react if it’s positive. 

You close your eyes and grab the test, your hands are shaking with nervousness. Even if you think that the result will be negative, the thought that it can be positive scares you, and that’s why you close your eyes. The truth is that you don’t even know if you want to open your eyes. 

What would happen if it is positive? What would you become if you’re indeed pregnant? Your life would completely change and you’re just not ready for that kind of change. Two years ago, you left your parents’ house because you wanted to pursue your dream of becoming a lawyer. Your career is on the rise, and a baby would completely ruin it. 

You most probably would have to come back to your parents’ house, and you’re not even sure if they will accept to help you. Having a baby out of a marriage and with someone that you’re not even dating would be seen as a shame for your family.      

Your heart is pounding more and more, it almost feels like it’s about to leave your chest. This simple test can completely change your life. 

“You need to see it, yn,” you whisper to yourself.  

You gather all the strength you have, wanting to know if your life will in fact change forever or if it’ll stay the same. Slowly, you open your eyes. The first thing you see is the reflection of your face in the mirror in front of you. What instantly catches your attention is how sick you look, no wonder that Jungkook seems worried. 

Your eyes gaze down at your fragile and shaking hands that are holding the pregnancy test. A loud cry leaves your mouth and tears roll down your face when you see the result.  

Jungkook runs to the bathroom as he hears you but you have completely locked yourself inside and he can’t open the door. He’s trying to get in because he needs to see you and understand what is going on.  

“Yn,” he says as he’s trying to open the door. “What happened?” 

Your hands let go of the test, making it fall on the ground, and your legs start shaking, barely being able to hold your body. The tears run faster down your face. 

The test is positive. Yongji was right, a human being is indeed growing inside of you. 

It feels like your entire world just collapsed under your feet and nothing could ever fix it. A baby is growing inside you, a human life has been created and that life will forever change your life. You’ll have to carry them for nine months and then, take care of them forever because they will depend entirely on you. 

The fact that you’re pregnant is more than a shock for you. You always took all the precautions for something like that to not happen. All the times you had sex with Minho, he was wearing a condom. You always made sure of it, at least, that's what you thought until today. 

Now, as your world is entirely falling apart, you remember one special night, a night that you had forgotten. Minho came to your apartment after a huge argument with his parents, he was really mad and you both drank a lot of wine. 

His parents wanted him to get back with Yeri and to marry her as soon as possible. Yeri, his ex, is the daughter of another powerful man in Korea. The union of both families will be the best thing. 

But Minho didn't want to be a puppet in his father's hands, he wanted to do things his own way. He wanted to marry the woman that he loves, it was not in his plans to marry just someone because his father craves more power. 

You drank for sure a lot that night and had sex on the couch. You were both so needy of each other, and you can’t remember if you used protection. However, it seems like it wasn’t the case. 

“Yn,” Jungkook calls you again, “open the door, please.” Hearing the concern in his voice breaks your heart. “Please, yn,” he begs, “I’m worried.” 

Jungkook rests his forehead against the door and he finally hears you sobbing and crying. It instantly shatters his heart. He wants to break the door to hold you tight in his arms. 

“My life is over,” you mumble as you cry. “Completely over.” 

He sits on the floor, his back against the door and he closes his eyes. He doesn’t understand what happened and why you suddenly say that.

“What happened?” he dares to ask. 

Your eyes now rest on the door before you sit on the floor and take a deep breath. To say that your life is completely over is an understatement for you. Your parents won’t ever accept you if you have a child without even being married, you’ll be the ugly duckling of the family. They’ll for sure reject you. 

How are you going to tell them that? You never introduced them to a single boy and now, you have to tell them that you’re pregnant with the wealthiest man in the country.  

“I am pregnant.” 

Jungkook is surprised. He knows how careful you are because your career has always been your priority, and having a baby right now was not on your plans. Plus, he knows how important it was for you to get married before having kids. 

“Minho?” he asks just to be sure. 

“Yes.” 

Your confirmation breaks his heart once again. Your friend knows that there’s no hope that Minho would help you with this. 

“Everything is over for me, Kook,” you cry even more now. “My parents will disgrace me, and Minho will never recognize this child as his because of his family.”        

The reality is hard to admit and it will be so hard to face this situation all by yourself. You’ll be completely alone in this and your baby will never know their families, they’ll just know you.

“I’ll be alone in this,” you add. 

You’re convinced your family will let you down because you’ll have a baby out of marriage. 

“No,” he replies straight away. “I’ll be by your side and I’ll never leave you.”

Even if you’re grateful for his presence, he can’t change the fact that it’s not going to be an easy thing.  

“It’s not the same, Kook,” you reply. 

Your friend is perfectly aware that he can’t ever replace the fact that Minho will never be present or that your family will most probably leave you. 

“Let me in, yn.” 

Right now, you just want to be alone in this bathroom for the rest of your life. 

“I want to hug you and comfort you.” 

After some seconds of hesitation, you finally open the door to fall in his arms. Nothing can comfort you at this moment, not even his strong arms holding you tight and pressing you against his body. Nothing. 

OCTOBER 6, 2018 

Yesterday, Jungkook stayed with you until you fell asleep in his arms. He didn’t want to leave you in this state, you were a mess and as your friend, he felt like it was his duty to be by your side. 

Jungkook didn’t sleep much during the night, thinking too much about your situation. He wants to help you as much as he can but he feels like there is nothing that he can do. He feels like the only thing he can do is to powerlessly watch your life fall completely apart. But that’s something he can’t accept.  

Someone knocks at your door, and without much willingness, you open it. To your surprise, it is Jungkook. You thought that he was going to leave you alone for a little while, giving you the time to adjust to your new reality. 

“Hi,” he says while entering your apartment. “I haven’t slept much and drank too much coffee before coming.” 

That explains why he looks tired and why his eyes are red. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” you frown while you close the door. 

Jungkook finally turns and looks at you. You seem even worse than yesterday, which is totally understandable.

“I canceled all my appointments for the morning,” he replies and you look at him with worry. 

Why did he do that? He hates to do it. Even when he’s sick, he works because he hates to disappoint his clients. ‘There must be something really important that he needs to do,’ you thought.

You come closer to him, crossing your arms over your chest. His heart is pounding fast and now, he’s wondering if what he has in mind is actually a good idea.  

“I’ll be the father,” he quickly says, causing you to raise an eyebrow, not sure you understood what he just said. 

“What?” 

He takes a step in your direction, closing the space between the two of you. “Minho will never recognize your baby. His father will never let him do that, or he’ll make sure to make you disappear just to hide the mistake of his perfect son.” 

For that, you totally agree with him. Park Joonki will do everything in his power to hide you and your baby, and power is something that he has in abundance. 

“Your baby will grow up without a father figure, and I’ll be by your side as long as we live. I am your closest male friend and most probably, your baby will end up seeing me as their father.” 

For Jungkook, the chances that your baby ends up calling him ‘dad’ are very high. 

“Nobody needs to know that Minho is the biological father,” he says as he takes one of your hands in his. “And I think for your safety, it’s better if nobody knows.” 

You just can’t believe that he’s ready to do this for you. What kind of friend is he? A superhero? You don’t clearly know yet, but the simple fact that he wants to help and protect you just proves that he’s the best person you’ve ever met. 

“You know, I was actually thinking of hiding it from Minho and his super-powerful family,” you mention while caressing his hand. “It’ll be easier for everyone.” 

“No, yn, it’s not going to be easy for you,” he replies. “And for the baby.” 

You still can’t believe that inside of you a human being is growing and that one day, you’ll birth them. That same person will be a part of you and they’ll only exist thanks to you. It’s just incredible but it feels like it is just too much for you at the moment. 

“I can’t just let you take a role that is not yours,” you say to him. “I can’t let you be the father of a child that is not even biologically yours, and I won’t let you sacrifice your life because I was careless.” 

You just can’t accept this. Jungkook will have to put on hold his romantic life because he’ll be too busy to be the father of someone else’s baby. 

“I’m not sacrificing my life, yn,” he shakes his head. “I just can’t sit and watch your life fall apart. Minho will probably never accept to be the father of your baby, and we don’t know yet how your family will react. But I know one thing, no matter what, this situation will destroy you.” 

You close your eyes, trying to hold back some tears. This is already destroying you. You’re going to be a mother, a moment that is supposed to be the happiest one of your life, and yet, you’re losing everything because of it. 

“My love life is dead, and sometimes, I even wonder if girls look beyond my body. They just want to have sex with me because I look like a bad boy when it’s not what I am looking for in life,” he explains. “So, I’ll be the father of your baby for you.” 

“No, Jungkook,” you shake your head and turn your back to him. “I won’t let you sacrifice everything.” 

You feel his body pressed against yours, his head resting on your shoulder and his arms enveloping your body in his strong arms. 

“I am proposing this to you, I thought about it a lot and I am just ready to do it,” he murmurs in your ear. “I’ll do anything for you, yn.” 

Those last words send shivers down your spine. 

“But I’ll give you some time to think about it, and when you’ll feel ready, you’ll just give me an answer,” he whispers and you nod. 

You stay in each other's arms for a while, enjoying the presence of the other. 

If you accept his proposition, you know that Jungkook will be an excellent father. He’s just so carrying and loving, and having him as their father will for sure be a good thing. But there is no need to recognize them as his child. No matter what you decide, he’ll be the father figure of your baby. 

OCTOBER 13, 2018

A week passed since Jungkook proposed to you that weird idea. 

You’ve come back to work, trying to keep your mind busy and to not think only about your pregnancy. At the moment, nobody knows that you’re pregnant. You just don’t know what to do, you’re just too lost. You decided that until you haven’t decided yet what to do with Jungkook’s proposition, you won’t tell anything to anyone. 

Not even Yongji is aware of the fact that she was right all along. 

When you enter the restaurant, you see your friend sitting at a table alone, and you join him. A bright smile stretches across his lips as he sees you coming. For the first time in a week, you’re smiling. A smile that only Jungkook can bring out. 

You haven’t seen him in a week because you didn’t want his presence to influence your decision. You knew that his big doe eyes would influence you or even his presence. With him, you always feel safe and happy. He’d make you say ‘yes’ in a heartbeat.  

But it feels good to see him after all this time. Life felt empty without him by your side and time seemed to move slowly. You missed him, more than a lot.   

He quickly stands up and he pushes back the chair in front of him so that you can take a seat. “Hi, yn!”  

As your eyes linger on him, you notice how his dark long hair is partially pushed back, revealing his undercut, and he’s wearing a white cotton shirt instead of his usual sweaters. It’s a slightly see-through shirt as some of his tattoos can be seen, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s wearing it on purpose. Is he teasing you? 

You swipe that thought away, you’re convinced that Jungkook only loves you like a friend and that he wouldn’t do such a thing.   

“Hello, Kook.” 

Being now in front of him, you can smell his strong perfume. Y Eau de Parfum from Yves Saint-Laurent. You offered him that perfume some time ago, and since then, he has been putting it but only on special events. 

Knowing it makes you feel special. So special. 

You take a seat, your smile never fading away. The knuckles of his fingers brush against your back, giving you goosebumps. This is for sure new for you, never have you felt that with Jungkook. 

Quickly, he walks to his chair and sits in front of you. Although your bodies are still a bit far from the other, his knees skim yours, giving you more goosebumps.     

“Wow, you look all good!” you say with a bright smile on your face. 

“You look even better,” he licks his lips as his eyes look down on you. 

From the moment you entered that restaurant, Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes off you.  

Since you were going out with your best friend, you decided to put on a beige dress with long sleeves. It’s a beautiful dress that you use quite often when you go out and you know Jungkook likes it. That’s actually the reason you’re wearing it. It’s cold outside, at this time of the year, it’s always too cold, and so, you’re also wearing long boots. 

From the outside, it really looks like you’re both on a date while you’re just going to decide about the future of your baby.  

“Why a restaurant?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

Yesterday, you asked him if it’d be possible to meet tonight at a restaurant. Usually, you both don’t go out alone, there is also someone else but you simply want to get out of your apartment for just a moment. 

“Just wanted to be out of my apartment.” 

His eyes are filled with a lot of brightness, it’s like they are sparkling, and you feel something inside you that you can’t quite explain. It’s like it is the first time that you’re seeing your friend, and this feeling inside you is something you have never felt around him.   

Actually, you felt it with Minho but this is stronger. So much stronger. 

Jungkook can’t help but find you super attractive, and to him, you’re glowing like never before. He’s wondering if it’s related to your pregnancy or if you’ve always been shining but he never noticed it. 

“Let’s take a look at the menu,” you suggest, trying to look away from him, and he nods. His eyes on you are making you uncomfortable and it makes you wonder what you need to do. You take the menu and read what this restaurant has to offer. 

After your proposal to go out, Jungkook offered to come here, one of his favorite places. This is the first time you’re coming to this restaurant.     

A couple of minutes later, a waiter arrives at your table and asks what you’re going to take. It’s an Italian restaurant and a lasagna is the meal that you choose, you haven’t eaten one in ages. 

When the waiter leaves, you focus again on your friend. “I’ve been thinking a lot about your proposition, and I’ve made up my mind.” 

He just nods, encouraging you to keep talking. He doesn’t want to interrupt you, scared that you’ll change your mind in the middle. 

“I think you’re right,” you bite the inside of your cheek, you’re a bit nervous. “No matter what, you’ll be around and for sure, you’ll be the father figure of the baby. For sure, Minho will never be around, his family will never let him recognize a child he had with some random girl.” 

There is no need to be a genius to know that. However, Jungkook was the first one to understand that. 

“Having you as their legal father will be helpful for everything.”  

The man in front of you listens carefully but a feeling of happiness grows inside him. In some way, he kind of expected that you’d accept his proposition but he was skeptical. 

“But in the future, I don’t want to hide it to our child.” 

This last week, you realize that it’s better if your baby is in fact recognize as Jungkook’s child. Not only would they grow up with a father but if something happens, he’ll be able to make decisions without you being there. You don’t even doubt that he’d take the right decisions, no matter what. 

But if your baby grows up thinking that Jungkook is their biological father, it would eventually end up bad. They need to know that they have a biological father that is not the same as their actual father. 

“I don’t want secrets between the three of us.” 

For Jungkook, it’s totally understandable. He can imagine the shock someone can feel when they found out years later that the man that raised them is not their biological father. Telling the truth as soon as possible is for sure the best decision. 

However, he’s delighted that you accepted his proposition, and he’s more than happy to become a father. All he wants to do right now is jump off happiness and scream to the world that he’ll become a father. 

It’s something he has desired his entire life. Since a very young age, he dreamed of having two kids, a boy, and a girl but he always thought that he’d found the love of his life before. He never imagined that his love life would become a disaster as it is right now. The lack of luck on that field made him give up on his dream. 

Now, you’re changing everything.  

“I will of course say to everyone that you’re the father, I won’t ever mention Minho to anyone.” 

If you hide Minho from everyone, they’ll never know that he’s the biological father of the child you’re carrying. Nobody will raise questions and it’s a lot better like that. 

“I don’t know what the future holds but I’ll forever be thankful that you’ll take on the role of Minho.” 

During this past week, you tried to contact Minho a couple of times but you never heard anything from him. His family is most probably managing to convince him to do whatever they want or he just simply doesn’t want to speak with you anymore. 

And it just breaks your heart because you wanted to tell him that you’re pregnant with his child. You wanted to tell him that he’s going to be a father. But you know that most probably he’ll never find out about your baby’s existence. 

“As I told you, I’ll do anything for you, yn,” he replies with a small grin. “And now, that includes the small human growing in your womb.” 

You reach for his hand and hold it tight, the warmth of his hand on yours is pleasurable. You feel the urge to caress the top of his hand with his thumb. Your eyes get lost in his gaze, and never before have you felt this good.

You owe everything to the man in front of you. Without any doubt, you know that life will be much easier with him by your side. You won’t be scared of the future because he’ll help you deal with whatever may happen to your baby. A baby that is now his. 

“Our baby,” you mumble. 

Hearing you say that makes it feel real. Jungkook realizes that he’s really going to be a father. You will forever be linked to your closest friend. It doesn’t scare you at all because you know that he’ll be the best father for your baby, even better than Minho. 

“Our baby,” he repeats with a big and bright smile on his face. 

The fact that you’re pregnant is something that still feels unreal. You guess that you’ll only realize it when your baby bump will start growing or maybe when you’ll see your baby for the first time on an ultrasound. 

The dinner went well and you’re both super happy, looking forward to seeing what the future holds for both of you. 

You just left the restaurant, walking now to your apartment that isn’t really far but Jungkook wants to be sure that you safely arrive at your place. Now, he has to take care of you and your baby. Things have changed and he doesn't want something bad to happen to you.  

As you're walking, your bodies are very close, his hand brushing against yours, and you’re just dying to hold it and intertwine your fingers with his. During the entire dinner, you were just craving his touch, wanting his warmth to embrace your body, and never before it has happened. 

“You really don't have to take me home.” 

Jungkook stops, looking at you. “I want to be sure nothing happens to you on your way home.” 

You can't help but smile at his words. Tonight, the simple fact that he takes you home warms your heart although you’re perfectly aware that he would have done it any other day or with anybody. Jungkook has always been such a gentleman. 

“I don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby,” his dark eyes glare down on your body, halting at your stomach, and his right-hand grabs your left one, stroking your hand with his thumb. 

“For sure, nothing will happen to me or our baby with you.” 

You lean closer and press a soft kiss on his cheek. Both of you feel butterflies down your stomach as your lips touch his skin, and even when your lips leave the skin of his cheek, he still senses them. His dark orbs are totally hypnotized by your sweet face. 

In the dark of the night, your face sparkles, and the smile that starts to appear lights your face even more. Jungkook wants to take a picture of your face right now and spend the rest of his life looking at it, remembering just how twinkling you are right now.   

You take the opportunity that his hand is holding yours to intertwine your fingers before you start walking again, still with a bright smile on your face. 

Since you found out that you were pregnant, it’s actually the first time that you’re happy about it, and it’s all thanks to Jungkook. Seeing you this happy delights him. He just can't wait to see your womb swell but he's even more impatient to meet the baby. 

You quickly arrive home. Once in front of the building, you stop but still keep your fingers entwined. You look at each other and you feel like you're sixteen again. It's like you're with your crush for the first time although Jungkook is just your close friend. However, now the father of your child.

“I just don’t know what to say to you,” you sincerely say to him. “You are the father of my baby just because you don't want my life to fall apart and I don't think somebody else will ever do that to me.” 

You perfectly know that nobody else would have proposed to be the father of your baby just to protect you from the biological father’s family. Somebody else would have maybe never thought about it. 

Jungkook's eyes look down at you and his free hand caresses your cheek. 

“As I’ve been saying, I’ll do anything for you without any hesitation.” 

As you look up at him, you’re aware that you are both looking at the other differently, making you wonder if you always have felt something more than just friendship for him but never noticed it.  

Your hand leaves his and holds his waist tight as you crash your body against his, your head falling against his chest. The silence of the night is quickly replaced by the sound of his heartbeat pounding fast under his broad chest.

To say that you're thankful is an understatement. You don't know what could have happened if he had never suggested being the father. Most probably your family would have been ashamed of you, Minho's father would have given you money to abort or would have done everything to hide you, and you’d be alone, crying for being stupid enough to get yourself knocked up. 

“I am so thankful to have met you,” he whispers in your ear. “My life was so bland before you.” 

Your arms tighten even more around his waist, loving every word he said. Jungkook smiles, thinking that he must look like a total idiot right now. 

“Let’s get inside,” you say to him, “it’s too cold.” 

He nods before you both head to the building. You take the stairs as you live on the first floor, it's faster than using the elevator. You open the door and let Jungkook enter. 

“Do you want to drink something?” you ask him as you take your coat off.  

Jungkook stays at your apartment’s entrance, not moving at all. His eyes are on you as you turn the lights on and ask him if he wants to drink.

You’re beautiful in every way to him. The dress you’re wearing embraces your body perfectly, letting him see how imperfectly perfect your body is. It’s not the first time that he’s checking you out but this time, it’s different. You’re not just his friend anymore. You’re the mother of his unborn child. 

Jungkook realizes that he’s looking at you like he’s in love with you. He’s even wondering if the small glass of wine that he drank at the restaurant is causing this all. Without the wine would he be looking at you like that? 

“No, thanks,” he answers, shaking his head. “I think I drank too much already.” 

A small chuckle leaves your throat, thinking about the only glass of wine he took. Jungkook usually drinks way more than just a glass, you have already got drunk together after a miserable day. You can tell that he’s totally sober right now. 

“What makes you giggle?” he cocks a brow. 

“It was just a glass,” you answer with a smile on your face. “That was literally nothing for you.” 

He rolls his eyes, a smile appearing on his face. 

“You don’t even know if I drank something before seeing you.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow. You’re not convinced at all by his little lie. 

“I’ve already seen you completely drunk, Kook,” you say. “I know what you look like when you drink too much.” 

“You’re annoying, yn.”  

“But you love me,” you’re still smiling at him before hugging him again. It feels good to be in his strong arms, more than good actually. 

Jungkook is also liking it a lot but before things get out of control, he just takes a step back. He’s scared to do or say something that he’ll regret. Right now, happiness is taking control of his body but he has to be careful. This feeling is maybe just temporary.   

“Maybe, I should get going,” he says. 

“No, don’t go,” you pout. 

You don’t want him to go. You want him to stay and hold you in his strong arms, feeling his warm body against yours. You have never craved so much his touch as you do right now, and it scares you a lot. 

This is new to you, wondering if it is real. You’re pregnant, your hormones are most probably all over the place and the man in front of you is going to be the father of your child. All those elements can cloud your judgment at the moment.  

“Stay just a little bit more,” you add. 

Jungkook crosses his arms over his chest before your little hands rest on his forearms. Your big eyes can’t stop looking into his, waiting for an answer. To him, it’s like you’re a small kid begging their parents to let them do whatever they want. But you’re just extremely adorable. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” 

He hates the power you have over him, you don’t have to do much to have him wrapped around your finger. He won’t say ‘no’ to anything you’ll ask.  

“You know I’ll give you what you want.” 

A smile appears on your face. 

“Can we watch a movie?” 

He nods before taking his jacket off and putting it on the coat hanger. You grab his hand, guiding him through your small apartment to get to the living room.  

“I’ll let you choose the movie while I’ll get us some snacks and drinks.” 

You disappear into your kitchen while Jungkook sits on your couch to choose the movie. You’ve already seen so many movies together that it feels like you have already seen all of them. 

Quickly you come back with some biscuits and drinks. He notices that you didn’t bring him any beer or alcohol which he's thankful for. He’s way too scared of what he could do with alcohol. You put everything on the coffee table, Jungkook’s eyes watching every one of your moves. You take a seat next to him, getting comfortable by his side.

“I choose some random shit that we haven’t seen yet,” he informs you. 

The movie that he chose isn’t important to you, all you care about is to spend more time with your baby daddy. This attraction you’re feeling for your friend is getting to be more obvious to you. You crave more, and you simply can’t deny it.  

Jungkook slowly comprehends that right now he’s loving you way more than a friend. The entire night, he was having doubts about it but feeling you sitting next to him gives him the time to realize things. 

The way he’s dressed is all for you and to get your attention. He never wore a see-through shirt because he knew that his dates would start flirting too much just to get laid, which was something he didn’t want. But wearing it tonight was like a sign from his subconscious, telling him that he didn’t actually mind getting laid. 

Nonetheless, you’re also wearing his favorite dress. A clear sign that he didn’t miss. He can’t help but think that you know what you were going to do to him. Jungkook isn’t wrong at all. At any other moment, you wouldn’t have put that dress on. Deep down, all you were hoping was to ruin the friendship.  

You’re sitting close to him, your leg pressed against his, and both of you try as hard as possible to focus on the movie. But neither of you can’t stop glancing at the other. 

Nevertheless, it seems that fate desires to bring you together, and the two characters of the movie start to make out heavily. Jungkook's face instantly heats up, completely embarrassed while your body completely freezes. That was for sure something unexpected, especially when you’re realising that you’re probably having a massive crush on the man sitting next to you. 

A piece of slow and romantic music plays in the background of the kissing scene. This only puts you both into the mood of the scene. The tension between you and Jungkook is heavily growing. 

The two of you ignore what to do as you’re both embarrassed by the way your bodies are reacting to a simple kissing scene. You’re just thankful that it’s not a sex scene otherwise you’d be hiding under the couch, ashamed to be completely turned on. 

This is becoming harder to handle as it becomes obvious that this scene is turning you on. You rub your thighs together, craving his touch more and more. Slowly, you turn your head towards him. Jungkook’s body is as tense as yours, you perfectly understand that he’s in the same state as you. 

“Kook,” your voice is barely audible but he hears you and finally looks at you. The first thing he sees is how desperate you are for him. 

“Yn,” he whispers as he closes his eyes for a few seconds. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

The movie is completely forgotten. There are just the two of you and nothing else. The tension between you two is at its highest and what’s going to follow next will only depend on the two of you. Are you going to give in or not? Are you going to ruin your friendship? 

“I can’t, JK.” 

Your heart is pounding hard, ready to burst at any minute. Jungkook’s eyes go from your eyes down to your lips, resting a little too much on them. He’s wondering what they feel like and the more he thinks about it, the more he wants to taste them.  

To you, it is more than evident that he wants to kiss you. So, you decide to be the boldest one, leaning closer to him, and he knows what’s coming, swallowing hard and biting his lower lip. He desperately wants it so he doesn’t move at all as you lean closer. 

However, for Jungkook, you’re moving too slow and he decides to close the gap for you, his lips finally meeting yours for a fervent kiss. His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, holding you while he kisses you like a desperate man. It simply feels like you’ve never kissed somebody before.   

The kiss is so passionate and deep. Jungkook's lips are soft against yours like he is scared to break you as he kisses you. But they feel good on yours, it’s as if they were meant to kiss you. 

As you’re kissing him with love and passion, you realize that since day one Jungkook was more than just a friend. There has always been a connection so strong between you that definitely was more than friendship but you always ignored it. The spark between you was slowly growing stronger and stronger until the moment it would inevitably blow up. That moment is happening right now. It just completely exploded unexpectedly, and god, it’s just so pleasurable.   

Jungkook pulls you onto his lap as he craves to feel more friction. That action lifts your dress up, revealing the skin of your legs. He’s craving to feel you in every possible way and bringing your body this close is completely driving him crazy. Both of you are panting hard but it clearly doesn’t matter. 

You keep wanting more and more.

As you break the kiss, you quickly unbutton his shirt, to reveal his bare skin to your eyes. You enjoy the view, his tattoos in the full display just for you. It’s not the first time you’re seeing his chest and tattoos, but it’s the first time that you’re looking at his body with lust. 

You instantly touch his covered tattooed skin. He has quite a lot of tattoos but there are still some uncovered parts. The ink on his body adds a lot of sensuality to him, and now, it becomes quite clear why all those girls are always so needy around him. He looks like a bad boy, but it’s one with the biggest heart you’ve ever met. 

Jungkook shivers from the feeling of your fingertips brushing against his skin. You press your lips against his, needing to be completely intoxicated by him. He licks your bottom lip before he grips it with his teeth, making you moan. As he hears your sweet moan, his dick twitches inside his pants and he’s growing harder underneath you. 

You open your mouth, Jungkook seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, finally meeting yours. You moan at the feeling, and unintentionally, he flexes his toned thigh. You feel it in all the right places, making your pussy clench around nothing and it makes you moan again. 

This unintentional action ends up being a good thing and he can’t help but smirk. His hands go down on your exposed thighs to caress them. Your skin is soft under his palms and his hands feel huge on your body.  

Before doing anything else, he pulls one of his legs out from under you in order for you to adjust yourself on his thigh. Your dress is pushed even higher, Jungkook has now a proper view of your black panties, and your clothed pussy is brushing now against his dark pants. 

Both of you know where this is going but none of you wants to stop it. You’re getting addicted to the other more and more and the thought of stopping doesn’t even cross your mind. 

“Fuck, yn,” hegroans when you start moving your hips against his thigh.  

He presses his lips on yours for a filthy kiss, his tongue passing past your lips and licking against your own. This feels more than good, everything about you is addictive, and Jungkook wants to have sex with you. 

This is totally unusual for him but all this situation is different. You’re not just a flirt that he met some days or weeks ago, you’ve been his closest friend for more than a year. He doesn’t doubt that beyond the physical attraction you love him for who he is. 

As his tongue plays with yours on your mouth, his hands find their way to your waist and guide your hips as you’re straddling his thigh. A small moan leaves your lips but the man in front of you swallows it directly. He pushes his thigh firmly against your clothed pussy and flexes the muscle once more. 

“I like how you’re riding my thigh, butterfly,” he whispers against your lips. “But I want to feel you properly.”  

One of his hands slides down on your body and tugs aside the fabric of your panties until your clit is directly pressed against his thigh. A breath falls from your lips as you drag your pussy against his thigh.  

Jungkook pulls you firmly against his flexed muscle, and once his hands are back on your waist, he quickens the pace of your hips. A trail of moans leaves your mouth, loving the friction of his pants against your pussy. 

“I love to hear you moan, butterfly,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

He just knows what to say and when to do it. He loves to be in charge, that’s obvious and that is a surprising thing for you. You never thought Jungkook would be this type of man. He looks so gentle and adorable all the time that you thought that he’d be the sub type. 

His length is getting harder and tighter on his pants, he needs to do something about it otherwise he’ll explode completely. 

“I will touch myself as you keep riding my thigh,” Jungkook says with evident desperation in his voice. 

Before you can even process what he said, he inserts two fingers in your mouth, and with his other hand, he lowers his underwear, allowing his cock to slap against his lower stomach. His cock takes your breath away, standing proud in between your bodies. He’s a bit thick, but not too much though, and as well long but again not too long. It’s clearly not how you pictured the crotch of your friend. This sight alone gets you wetter.    

You suck on his finger, coating them with your saliva, and that alone snatches a groan out of his pretty swollen lips. A proud smile appears on your face. When he feels that they are soaked enough, he pulls them from your mouth. His fingers hold his cock, covering it with your saliva as they go up and down the length. 

“Damn,” he mumbles, his head slowly going back at the feeling of his fingers on his length and your clit rubbing against him. “You’re doing this so well, butterfly,” he comments. 

The little butterfly nickname brings actual butterflies in your lower stomach. It’s such an adorable nickname even though it’s said in the middle of a naughty time. 

You bite your bottom lip as you stare deep into his eyes. The intimacy of the eye contact with the friction against your clit makes the wave of pleasure grow intensely inside you, and for sure, you won’t last long before that wave hits you hard.  

“Pleasuring yourself on my thigh while I touch myself,” he growls as his hand keeps pumping his cock. “It’s too hot, butterfly.”  

Jungkook runs his thumb over the tip of his cock and grips his bottom lip between his teeth. He strokes his cock at the same pace at which your hips are working on his thigh, and he also feels like he’s about to cum on his hand. 

“Fuck, butterfly,” he growls as he looks down to watch your throbbing pussy rubbing against his thigh, “you’re doing this perfectly.” 

You put your hand on his shoulder and circle your pussy faster against his thigh. You’re so close. 

“Kook,” you say and his gaze meets yours once again, “I’m so close!” 

The hand resting on your waist goes down and his thumb circles on your clit. It sends you over the edge, the wave of pleasure hitting you violently and you feel your orgasm in every part of your body. A guttural moan leaves your mouth and you close your eyes to enjoy the feeling.  

The sight of you coming undone makes him come, a deep groan coming from his throat as cum flows on his hand. 

You hide your face on the crook of his neck, completely surprised that you gave in to temptation. Nobody says anything, you’re just both trying to catch your breath and you close your eyes. 

Slowly, you fall asleep in his arms, exhausted from what happened. Jungkook senses it but doesn’t say anything as he enjoys having you in his arms. 

As you’re falling deeper, he moves a bit and you groan a bit. “I’m just putting back my pants, butterfly,” he whispers in your ear.  

He does it quickly to not disturb you more. “I’ll put you in your bed, you’ll be better.” 

“No,” you mumble half-awake, “I want to stay in your arms.” 

He stands up, holding you tight in his arms. You mumble some words that he doesn’t understand, making him chuckle. Once in your bedroom, he carefully places you in your bed before laying next to you. He crawls to you, holding you again in his arms.       

OCTOBER 15, 2018

For the past two days, Jungkook has been living in your place, only leaving you to go to work. Having him around you all the time has been helping you to embrace and accept this pregnancy even more.  

The first appointment with the obstetrician has already been taken and you’re super excited to discover your baby. But most importantly, you want to know if nothing is wrong with them, their health is what worries you the most. 

You don’t know exactly how far you’re on this pregnancy, and in the past weeks, there has been some alcohol consumption. That is leaving you wondering if it affected their growth and you just want to be sure that the baby is in fact good health.     

Although everything seems to be fine, you and Jungkook haven’t spoken about what happened two days ago. Indeed, just the thought of what happened makes you a bit uncomfortable. But you need to speak about it, you’re going to be parents and you can’t just ignore the feelings you have. 

“Kook?” you say as you sit in front of him at the wooden table of the kitchen. 

As usual, he’s wearing a large shirt with some training pants but his hair isn’t pushed into a man-bun as he has been doing it quite a lot lately. This simple outfit gives him some sexiness, and you know that in a long term, you won’t be able to resist his natural charm.  

“Mmm,” he says looking at you. 

“Can we speak about what happened two days ago?” 

You’re scared that if you don’t bring the conversation up, he would never do it. When it comes to feelings, Jungkook is always the first one to hide which means that you have to be the bravest one. 

The man in front of you swallows hard when he hears your question. Of course, he prefers to avoid the subject since he’s a bit ashamed of what happened. But he knows how important it is to communicate.    

“We really need to, JK,” you can see in his eyes that he’s not comfortable. “We are going to have a baby, and being scared of speaking about certain topics is clearly not the best thing to do.”

“I know, yn,” he answers. “I’m just ashamed of how needy I was for you.” 

You decide to stand up, walking to him, and sitting in his lap. Your fingers brush his long hair, that part of him is one of your weaknesses. You never thought you’d be into long-haired men but here you are, loving Jungkook’s long hair. 

As you sit on his lap, he remembers how well you made him feel when you were riding his thigh.   

“Don’t be ashamed,” your eyes look into his dark orbs. “We both wanted it.” 

One of your hands goes down on his face to caress his soft skin. 

“I never expected to feel more than friendship for you, JK. Never,” his eyes never leave yours, scared that if he closes his eyes, you’ll disappear. “But I liked everything I felt that day and how you made me feel.” 

His heart is slowly starting to pound fast.  

“Nobody made me feel the way you did, and I was only riding your thigh.” 

You don’t even want to imagine how he could make you feel with his cock buried deep inside you. 

“I want to feel that every day, Jungkook.” 

You’re not ashamed to tell him that you desire more. More of his lips on you, more of his hands on your body, more of his touch. More of him. You want to get addicted again and again until all your mind can think of is him.  

“You know that if we do that again, we can’t be just friends anymore.” 

That limit seems to have already been exceeded. It happened the moment you found out you were pregnant and he proposed to be the father. That gesture proved that he’d go beyond everything to protect you. 

“We already ruin our friendship,” you slightly push some of his hair back. “We stopped being friends the moment we decided to kiss each other.” 

His eyes go down to your lips, remembering the way they were kissing him two nights ago. It felt like entering heaven. Since that night, he can’t stop thinking of your lips on his. 

“Be my boyfriend, Jungkook,” you tell him. “Don’t be just my baby’s daddy.”    

It’s the first time a girl asks him to date her, but the boldness of your suggestion doesn’t even surprise him. Between the two of you, you’ve always been the boldest, and he has always liked it.  

He wants to be more than just your friend and experienced love with you. God, there are so many things that have crossed his mind after that night and in all of them, you were his girlfriend.  

“You know you already have me wrapped around your finger,” his hands slide down to your waist, bringing you closer to him and holding you firmly against his hips. You can feel his bulge just under your core, and he’s not even hard.   

Jungkook hates when he’s not in control, but with you, most of the time, you’re the one in charge. He’ll do whatever you want him to do. 

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” he adds. “If you want me to be your sex friend, I’ll be it and if you want more, I’ll give you more.” 

Without any second thoughts, you kiss him with passion. You want him to be more than just a partner with whom you have fun. The love you both feel for each other is just too strong. 

“I want to be your girlfriend, Jungkook,” you whisper on his lips. “I want to give you all the love you deserve.” Your thumb caresses his cheek. “You deserve the love of Juliet.” 

A smile spreads across his face, remembering the time you told him that he deserves to be loved like Juliet loved Romeo. Although it was a tragic love story, he wants to know a love as strong as that one.   

“And you deserve the love of all the stars and the moon.” 

Jungkook kisses you once again. This is something he never expected, to start dating you the moment he becomes a father. 

JANUARY 17, 2019

For the past three months, a lot has changed. 

Jungkook has moved on to your place because everything will be easier if you live in the same apartment. Since he was sharing his with Namjoon and Yoongi, it was evident that you were not going to live with him and his roommates. 

Your relationship is slowly getting stronger as days pass. Not much has changed. You spend more time together now and kiss a lot. There’s a lot of oral sex but no penetrative sex yet. There isn’t any real reason behind it, you’re just comfortable with the oral sex at the moment and you know that there will be more when you’ll feel ready. 

To everyone, you have both announced that you were going to have a baby together. The reactions were overall positives. Both of your parents were more than happy and excited to become grandparents. Your parents were a bit tougher because you’re not married, but they still accept it since you’re together. But your mother, as well as his, started to cry as they realized that their babies were going to have a baby.  

Your siblings were just thrilled to have a niece or nephew tin the way. The feeling was shared by your friends, some were just surprised that you were having a kid when you used to describe each other as just friends. 

Yongji was the one that was a bit more skeptical at first, not truly believing it but you managed to convince her. This little secret, you just want to keep it between the two of you for the moment. You have to admit that you were scared of her reaction. What would she say? Would she still support you if she knows? And as selfish as it sounds, you want to have your best friend by your side during all your pregnancy.     

Nobody knows or even suspects that Minho is the biological father of the baby you’re carrying. And it’s better like that, especially since the Park family announced publicly that Minho is going to marry Yeri in July. 

You still keep trying to contact him but less than at the beginning. It’s clear now that he’s never going to reach out for you, he’s back with Yeri and he will start a family with her. You’re convinced that this was all meant to be. Minho will never know that he got you pregnant and that he created a human being with you. 

“Can I help you?”  

You finished work a bit earlier today, there wasn’t much work to do today and you decided that it’d be the perfect occasion to visit Jungkook’s store. 

The man in front of you asking if he can help you must be the new partner of your boyfriend.  

Last month, he decided to listen to you and found a partner to help him out. Of course, he was picky, and it took him a little while to find the perfect partner. Ironically, his partner is named Park Jimin. 

Jungkook has been praising him a lot, and you’re more than happy to see that this partnership is working perfectly. There are even more clients now but your boyfriend finds more time to work on his personal projects. 

“I am here for Jungkook,” you say with a smile on your face. 

“Do you have any appointment?” he asks politely. 

“No, I am his girlfriend.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Jimin says before bowing to you. “I didn’t know.” 

“Don’t worr,” you still smile at him.

“He’s still working but he should be almost over.” 

You nod before thanking him for the information. He proposes to you something to drink or to eat but you politely decline. You’ve already eaten a lot today, this crazy baby has been giving you the wildest cravings and you know that if you start eating now, you won’t be able to stop. 

Your stomach is slightly swollen but with all the layers of clothes you’re wearing, it’s not even noticeable. Your baby has been growing a lot lately which leads to your stomach swelling a lot too. You’re certain that in some days, even with all the clothes you put to protect yourself from the cold weather, you won't be able to hide your baby bump anymore. 

You were about to take a seat in one of the chairs in the entrance when a man comes from behind with Jungkook following him. The man checks you out quickly but your boyfriend notices it and by the way his jaw clenches, you bet that he doesn’t like it. 

Another young lady enters, and Jimin takes care of her while the man pays for what Jungkook did on his body before leaving the store. Jimin disappears behind with the girl, leaving you alone with your boyfriend. 

His hair is pushed back into a man-bun, a large grey shirt covering his toned torso while ripped blue skinny jeans cover his long legs. This view is more than mouthwatering. This hot man standing in front of you is all yours. 

“Hi, butterfly,” he finally breaks the silence between the two of you. 

“Hi,” you smile at him. Watching him like that, all you want to do is make love with him until you forget your own name. 

Jungkook walks closer to you, offering you a soft smile. “I was not expecting you,” his thumb finds its way to your cheek, caressing it like you’re made of glass. 

“I wanted to surprise you.”    

Jungkook leans his face closer to yours, his breath brushing your skin. “It’s definitely a good surprise, butterfly,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

Your boyfriend is a master in teasing and turning you on with a few words. He can literally say “car” and it’ll turn you on. You don’t know how he does it but what’s sure is that he’s a master in making you weak. 

Pulling back a little, he stares into your eyes before pressing his lips against yours. The kiss is filled with heat and passion and you already know where this is going. The only problem is that you’re in his store and all the passers-by can see the two of you. 

“I have twenty minutes before my next client,” he says on your lips. “We could make good use of those twenty minutes,” he suggests before taking your hand and guiding you to the back of his shop. 

You enter his private room, the one where he works on his personal projects and where he eats during his small breaks. There is a couch on the left corner, a small table with two chairs, and a fridge on the right corner. It’s a small room but he doesn’t need much more. 

Jungkook closes the door so nobody can come in and disturb you for the next few minutes. There’s music playing in the room. Often from The Weeknd. The song sets the mood clearly.  

Your lips meet once again for a languid kiss. You want him so much, and you desire so much more than just his tongue and fingers.   

You want him to insert himself inside you. 

“I want you, Kook,” you whisper in between kisses. 

He breaks the kiss before looking at you. “Take your jacket and pants off.” 

You don’t have much time to have sex, and it’s better if you start undressing. So, Jungkook takes his clothes off quickly while you undress too. You struggle a bit more since you’re carrying a little human inside your body. 

He opens one drawer from the little furniture next to the couch, taking a condom from it. The sight of the condom surprised you.  

“Why do you have a condom here?” you ask while frowning. You’re half-naked and crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I kind of hoped that one day you’d come and we’d get laid here.” 

This little confession from your boyfriend is surprising. So, all this time he was dreaming of having sex with you on that couch and never said anything to you. 

“You’re very surprising when it comes to sex,” you admit. 

“Everybody has their own little fantasies,” he replies back. 

“But why are you even taking a condom?” you ask him, a bit confused. 

You’re pregnant, and the condom is completely useless. You are both healthy, nothing can happen if he penetrates you. 

“We don’t want you to get pregnant while pregnant,” he answers. 

His answer makes you giggle, and he arches a brow while tilting his head as he does not understand what is making you giggle. 

“I can’t get pregnant while being pregnant, babe,” you tell him. 

“I read some articles that it can happen.” 

Jungkook has been deeply involved in this pregnancy. He clearly doesn’t want to just give his name to your baby to protect you, he wants to be the best partner for you and father for the baby. He has been reading a lot of pregnancy books, and he even chats with some other dads on blogs. 

When you found out that some weeks ago, you felt lucky. Lucky to share this with him and to have him by your side. You know he’ll never let you down, and even if the worst happened, he’d give his best to be the father your child deserves. 

“The chances are very low, babe.” 

This is for sure a question you’ll ask your obstetrician on your next appointment. However, you strongly believe that it would never happen. 

“But there’s a risk and I don’t want to take it.” 

He’ll gladly make love to you without a condom but he knows how hard it will be for you if you get pregnant while being pregnant. He sees how sometimes it is hard for you with just one baby, and if he could, he’d be the one carrying the baby. 

But the reality is different, and your body is the one bearing his child. So, he’ll do anything and everything to make your life easier. And wearing a condom will for sure make it easier.    

“Now, take your shirt off, I want to see your swollen stomach.” 

Since your stomach started to show, Jungkook adores to see it. Not only does he speak with the baby but he also caresses it. He wants to connect with his child before they arrive. He wants them to recognize him. For him, it’s the way to get really involved. However, he has also developed some sort of weird kink. He also likes to see your belly when you have sexual interactions. 

You do as he says, revealing your upper body to him. Your boyfriend stares at your body, the prettiest one he has ever seen. The fact that you’re bearing his baby makes you even more marvelous to him.      

“You’re so wonderful, butterfly.”  

Your boyfriend guides both your bodies to the couch, sitting on the couch while you sit astride him, your ass pressed against his length and letting your legs rest on either side of his body. Your stomach is pressed against his, and he loves the feeling. 

His lips find yours for another passionate kiss, your hands cupping his adorable cheeks while his hands go down on your body, caressing every inch of you. 

His lips break the kiss. “I didn’t like the way the client checked you out.” 

His little jealousy is something that you find very cute because it’s little. Sometimes, he just says some things like that and you can’t help but find it adorable. 

“I could say the same about all the girls that check you out when you walk in the streets.” 

Jungkook is terribly handsome, you’re very aware of it. You can’t go for a walk with your boyfriend without having all the girls checking him out. Jealousy is something you constantly feel but you trust him. You know he loves you and he would never do something to break your trust.     

You kiss him again fervently, wanting to taste his lips over and over again. Slowly your lips go down to his neck and you decide to mark him as yours. You softly suck his skin and to your surprise he let you do it. He knows that you just want to let all the girls know that he’s already taken.  

You feel the rumble of his chest as he starts to groan, and you feel his hands lay on your waist. Accidentally, your ass grinds against his length, and a groan leaves his lips.

“Fuck, butterfly.” 

Once you’re done with the little hickey, you lick the sensitive spot and smirk, happy with what you just did. 

His fingers find their way underneath your chin and lift it up. He wants his face to be the only thing you look at right now. His eyes are sparkling a lot and you know that you could forever get lost in his eyes. 

His lips find yours for yet another kiss and you could kiss him forever without getting sick of it. His tongue licks your lips, inviting you to open up your mouth for him. His tongue explores the insides of your mouth, making you moan into his mouth. 

“I need you, Kook,” you gasp as you feel yourself getting wetter. “I really need you, now.”  

Right now, all you want is to feel him inside you. You don’t want him to lick or finger you until you’re coming hard as well as you don’t want to feel his cock buried in your mouth until you swallow all his cum. 

“Looks like my little butterfly is very needy,” he says smirking against your lips. “But she’s lucky that all I want right now is to feel her tight walls around my hard length.”  

You both start removing the last piece of clothing that you were wearing, which are just your underwears. Jungkook finally sets ‘kookie junior’ free, that’s how you’ve been calling his cock lately. He doesn’t like it much but teasing him is one of your passions, so you decided that from now on you’ll call his length ‘kookie junior’.   

Your hand starts pumping his length, resulting in Jungkook rolling his head back and letting out a moan. Seeing and feeling his long and thick cock just makes you want to feel him inside you even more. 

You move your hand up and down his length at a slow pace at first before quickening. He is getting harder, panting out curses of how good it feels to finally have your hand around him again. Precum is leaking and you use it as lube to allow your hand to easily move along his dick.  

“Fuck, yn,” he curses as he looks at your hand working on his cock. But as he looks down, the first thing he sees is your baby bump and that sight can make him come undone in a heartbeat.  

You feel his cock twitch beneath your fingers, and you decide to stop this torture. You know that he’ll come right now and you still need to ride him before that happens. A desperate groan leaves his lips. 

“We don’t have the time for it, Kook.” 

You grip the condom he took seconds before and rip off the packing with your teeth. Then, you put the condom on his hard length while his hand slips to your wet core and he curses when he feels how wet you are. 

“Fuck, butterfly,” his cold fingers brushing against your core makes you moan. “You’re so wet,” he smirks and gathers your wetness in his fingers before bringing them to his mouth and sucking them. Your eyes are glued to what he’s doing, and you admire the way your wetness mixes with his saliva in his mouth. This is so fucking hot. 

Once he finishes sucking his fingers and the condom is put on his cock, his gaze meets yours and his hands fall to your hips, guiding your body up and then back down as you slowly sink onto his cock. 

You moan as he stretches you out, your nails sinking on his shoulder as you feel a mix of pleasure and pain.  

“Fuck!” you whimper as he groans, more than happy to be inside of your heat. You’re sure that Jimin and the girl he’s tattooing heard his loud groan, but you simply don’t care. All you care about is to be fucked by this man. 

“You’re so fucking big,” you say. 

Both of you stay still once his cock is fully inside you. You press your forehead against his, giving time to your body to adapt to his huge cock. You look into each other's eyes and he offers you a big smile. 

“It just feels like you were made just for me,” he says, and you smile back at him. 

“Maybe we are meant to be together,” you give him a quick kiss. 

“I am starting to think that we are,” he whispers. 

Jungkook is convinced that when you entered this shop almost two years ago, you were meant to be his soulmate. He never believed in that shit before you, but now that he’s with you, it all makes sense to him.  

“I could stay like this forever,” you say before giving him another kiss.    

“Me too, butterfly.” 

It feels like heaven, even though it hurts a little bit to have him fully inside of you. 

“Can I move or do we wait a bit more ?” he asks with concern. 

Instead of answering, you grind your hips to let him know that you’re ready to feel him move. Your prominent stomach brushes against his abs and a groan leaves his mouth.  

Your forehead leaves his, and you sit up before he starts to thrust into you without any hesitation. His strong hands go down on your hips, holding you in place as his hips begin to thrust you at a slow pace. With every thrust he gives you; you feel your stomach get tighter. 

There aren’t words to describe how good it feels to share this moment with him. Everything is perfect with him, and finally having more than just oral sex with him feels like you got a ticket to heaven. You look at him, hot as hell, and that sight makes you moan. 

Knowing how Jungkook loves to handle everything when it comes to sex, you know that all you have to do is to sit on his cock and let him do all the magic, enjoying every single second of this moment. He is strong enough to hold your body up as he fucks into your cunt from below. His thrusts become fast as he starts to set a pace you are both comfortable with. 

“Feels good, butterfly?” he questions. 

You give him a simple nod, not able to make a proper sentence because you’re completely lost in your own state of bliss. Jungkook loves seeing you like this, completely fucked up. 

His hands caress your stomach, and in the middle of this debauchery, you can’t help but find this moment adorable. You know he’s doing it to reassure your baby, he confessed to you once when he did it while he was fingering you. And you have to admit that you like the feeling of his hands rubbing your skin. 

Your walls pulse around his length, squeezing him and it results in his thrusts becoming more brutal. He is deep inside of you, and you are loving it. Tears start to roll down your cheeks because of the way he’s pounding inside of you. He’s stretching your insides so much with his rough thrust and it makes your whole body tremble. 

If he keeps pounding you like that, you’re sure that you’ll give birth right now.  

“Gonna cum, Kook,” you whisper to be the most discreet, although you’re sure that Jimin has already understood that you’re both having sex.

Your nails sink into his shoulder, and he groans at the pain and pleasure it gives him. He grips your hips harder as he continues to roughly thrust inside you, and you are sure that you’ll have bruises.

“Go ahead, butterfly, make a mess for me,” he groans as he keeps thrusting hard. 

Those dirty words are all you need to let your orgasm go. You are coming, biting your lower lip to muffle your moans. Your thighs are shaking but he keeps thrusting into you while you’re completely high from your orgasm. 

Jungkook is completely loving the way you’re creaming his dick and just this sight could make him cum but he is determined to at least make you come one more time before he would come.

Right now, his priority is you and he just doesn’t give two fucks to the client he’s supposed to tattoo in some minutes. 

He quickly changes positions, flipping your bodies so that now he is on top of you and you are lying on the couch. Your legs wrap around his waist as he keeps thrusting into you. He’s although very careful with your stomach because he doesn’t want to hurt you or the baby. This is too much for your body and quickly, tears start falling from your eyes, again.

“Kook,” you’re trying to speak but your mind can’t think straight from all this overstimulation, “too m-much,” even though it feels like it’s too much, your body is secretly loving. 

“I know you can take it, butterfly. Be a good girl for me, okay?” he whispers in your ear before he licks the spot right under your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You nod and you feel his tongue going down from your ear to your neck. 

Jungkook sucks and bites the skin of your neck, leaving a bruise. 

“I want everyone to know that I’m the only one who can touch you, butterfly,” his thrusts are still brutal, and you don’t know if your body can handle all of this any longer.  

“Fuck, Kook!” you say as your eyes roll back into the back of your head and he chuckles lowly into your ear. 

Due to his brutal thrust, the couch is creaking, and your breasts are bouncing like crazy. They also have swollen a lot since the beginning of the pregnancy, and they are becoming heavier as time passes.  

His thumb makes contact with your clit and starts rubbing it. All of this feels so bad and so good at the same time, but you never want him to stop. You’re doing everything you can to not moan but Jungkook is clearly pushing you to do it. He’s driving you completely crazy. 

The tip of his cock hits that sweet spot and you come all over him again. Your pussy clench around him as a loud moan escapes your lips, and the juices of your release are leaking out everywhere. 

He keeps fucking you through your high as he chases his own release. Your walls keep clenching around him and that is all he needs to come. He closes his eyes, enjoying this moment of release and you are sure he’d never look so sexy.  

Jungkook collapses over you as he decides to leave your pussy some needy rest. You both try to catch your breath for a little while, and you leave a lot of kisses on his sweet face. He’s loving it and he could stay like this forever but he has one final client before you can both go home. 

“I’ll tattoo the client, and you stay here until I come back, okay?” he lifts his head up to look at you. 

“Okay, Kookie.” 

He pulls his kookie junior out of you before taking the condom filled with his cum and throwing it in the trash. He puts his clothes back on while you do the same but at a slower rate. Before leaving the room, he kisses you. 

“Can’t wait to do this again tonight, butterfly.”    

FEBRUARY 20, 2019

Minho never expected to see you again, especially not in a supermarket. More than five months have passed since he last saw you. 

He's perfectly aware that he’s the one that completely put an end to whatever you two were having. He adored you a lot and under other circumstances, he's convinced that things between you would have worked. But Yeri, his ex whom he dated for years, came back to him, and things changed. He knew that if he chose you over her, his family would always reject you even if you’d get married. 

But he chose the easiest way for everyone, avoiding causing a lot of suffering. Things would have never been easy. He knows that he will never love Yeri as he used to but they share a long love story and she is what his family wants.   

As you’re looking at the fruits you’re going to buy, your swollen womb catches his attention, making his body freeze completely. Your right-hand strokes gently your obvious baby bump. 

His heart squeezes at the sight, thinking that there are chances that he’s the father. He closes his eyes for a few seconds. For the past months, you’ve been texting him frequently, trying to contact him but he refuses to reply because he knows that he’d fall into your arms in a heartbeat. This is beyond hard for him. Of course, he desires only to reply to your calls and texts but things are better like this.  

Now, it all makes sense. You’ve been texting him because you want to tell him that you’re pregnant. If he would have answered you, he knows that things would have been completely different. Most probably, he’d be right next to you in this supermarket and he’d be doing some jokes about your bump. Most probably, he’d be preparing his baby’s room instead of planning his wedding. 

“Shit,” he mumbles to himself. 

As he was about to walk in your direction, he notices Jungkook placing himself next to you. He’s smiling at you while his hand finds its way to your back. If he didn’t know that he’s your best friend, he’d think that you’re together. 

You look up at Jungkook before he leans closer to you and presses a kiss on your lips. Minho’s heart squeezes even more. You replaced him like he thought you would but you deserve it.  

After kissing Jungkook, you turn around and see Minho from afar. He’s barely recognizable with his hat and sunglasses but you notice him straight away. He’s still the biological father of your child, you’d recognize him under dozens of layers of clothing. 

“I’m coming back,” you say to your boyfriend before walking in Minho’s direction. 

Jungkook doesn’t even have the time to say or understand what you said before you leave him alone in front of the fruits. Minho sees you coming but he doesn’t move. His eyes are only focused on your stomach. It’s still small but it’s obvious that you’re carrying a human. 

“What are you doing here?” 

You’re more than surprised to see him here. It’s a public space, anyone could see him and it’s for sure the last place on earth where you thought you’d see him. 

“Just needed to buy something.” 

A bit far from him, you see his bodyguards. That was the thing you hated the most about him, his bodyguards. They were always around him, never leaving the two of you in peace.  

His eyes barely look at your face, and you know this is your only chance to tell him everything. You’ve been trying for months without success. 

“We really need to talk.” 

This is probably not the best place to have a serious conversation but you don't want to let the chance to speak with him slip away from you. 

Minho nods and you take a look behind you, staring at Jungkook. His jaw is clenched, showing you that he's not very happy to see you with Minho but you offer him a small grin, trying to reassure him. The last thing you want is your boyfriend to get worried.

You both start walking in the supermarket as you explain everything to him. From the way you found out about your pregnancy to the decision you took to recognize Jungkook as the father. 

Minho’s heart squeezes as he hears how you felt alone the moment you found out, but he’s grateful that Jungkook was there, holding you in such a difficult time. You needed someone at that time, and he just feels sorry that he wasn’t there.   

But he can only agree with the decision you took. Although he would have loved to be a father and be there every step of the way, he knows his father. He would have first tried to make you abort. Then, if it didn’t work, he would have simply made you disappear. He would have given you a lot of money to buy your silence and make you leave the country.  

“Jungkook will be their father but if you want to see them, I won’t ever stop you.” 

“I won’t ever do that,” he replies. His words make your heart clutch, thinking about the fact that he doesn’t want to meet his child. 

“Why?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“All I want for that baby is to have the best life possible. Having two fathers won’t make things easier.” 

“We don’t have to necessarily tell them straight away that you’re their father.” 

For sure, until they’re three or four years old, you won’t say anything because they’ll be too young to understand and you’re scared that it would not provide them a stable life. 

“We could wait for a while and introduce you as a family friend until they’re old enough to understand.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just walking and looking in front of him. Being a father is something he has always dreamed of but his family always made things too hard. He ended up not wanting kids, too scared to become like his father. He never wants his children to hate him. 

“I want that baby to be protected from my family, yn,” he finally confesses before halting and looking at you. “I don't want them to know the pressure of being part of the powerful Park family.” 

You take his hand and squeeze it. 

“I prefer it if they never know that I am their birth father. They’ll be safer with you and Jungkook.” 

“But you can still be a part of their life. You can still love them and watch them grow. That’s your right, Minho,” you stroke your thumb on his hand. “This baby will forever have your blood in their veins and nobody can change that. They exist thanks to you and you have all the rights in the world to love them and to be loved by them. Maybe it will never be like you picture it but it will still be love.” 

A small tear runs down his face, and you wipe the tear away. 

“Jungkook and I would never hide to them that he is not their biological father but they’ll only know that you’re the father if you want it.” 

“I never deserved to have you in my life, yn,” he answers. “You’re just too nice.” 

“You deserve everything, Minho. You’re a good person, you were just unlucky to be born as the Park heir. I know you’ll always take decisions based on your family’s approval but nobody has to know about this baby,” you put his hand on your stomach. “Just you, Jungkook and I.” 

He nods before hugging you. This is something he can do. He can be around, see his child grow, and love them but nothing will ever be said to anybody, not even his fiancé. This will be his secret. 

“You’ll be a great mother and I am sure Jungkook will be the best father this baby will ever have.” 

You’re convinced of the same. Jungkook will for sure be the greatest, loving and protecting father ever. 

MAY 28, 2019

Jeon Hyejun. 

You’re looking at your baby boy that is peacefully sleeping in your arms. After nine long months of waiting, he’s finally here, and you’re on your own paradise with Jungkook. 

Hyejun is perfect, prettier than you ever imagined him. He looks a lot like you but he definitely inherited some traits from Minho, you can’t hide it. Jungkook is sitting next to you in the hospital bed, looking at you and his son. 

Nothing prepared him for this very moment. Nothing. He doesn’t even know how to describe what he’s feeling at the moment. All he knows is that he’s finally a father. The father of your son. 

When he saw you in his store, scared to do your first tattoo, he never thought that he’ll start a family with you and that he’ll love you more than life itself. But that’s the magic of fate. You don’t know who you might meet tomorrow. Anybody can drastically change your life. 

“He’s so beautiful,” you mumble as you pass one finger on your son’s face. 

“And so tiny,” Jungkook comments. 

Minho was contacted when you birthed Hyejun. He was the one requesting it because he wants to see him straight after he was born. Hyejun might never know that Minho is his biological father but he’ll have him in his life. 

He has already opened a bank account for him, and he’ll put some money until he’s old enough to be the holder of the bank account. He will never be his father but he still wants to provide him the best future he can have. Money is something he has in a huge quantity and it’s the least he can do. 

“We’re finally parents,” Jungkook adds. 

“It’s the beginning of a new adventure for us,” you look up at your boyfriend with a bright smile. 

You’re more than exhausted but you wanted to put your son to sleep before you sleep too. You wanted to be the first person to do it. 

“And I know it’ll be the best adventure of our lives, butterfly.” As he says your nickname, your eyes instantly look down at his arm where a little butterfly has recently been tattooed. A butterfly made for you. A butterfly that represents his immense love for you. A strong love that he has never experienced before you.

[lokissweater]

sunday's 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

{yuta okkotsu x popular f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu has been in love with you since he started college— living in the shadows of your popularity as he watched from afar how your bouncy and genuine kind soul prospered and shined everywhere you went. but during one of his shifts at the 50s diner down the street from his campus, you walk in with you friends one sunday night and immediately bond over your shared love for elvis presley’s music, yuta stammering and fidgety at how pretty you are up close, and you falling fast for his pinky cheeks, sweet little words, and how he takes care of you every single day.

warnings: college!au, FLUUUFFF omg so cute, lovesick yuta he thinks you’re so prettyyy, no smut in this one!, popular reader, cursing, afab!reader, lots of mentions of elvis presley LOL, little bit of angst, clueless yuta, strangers to friends to lovers.

word count: 9.6k

authors note: THIS ONE HITS HOMEEE FOR MEEE AAAHHHH CAN YOU TELL I LOVE ELVIS PRESLEY? i live and breathe that man and oldies in general, so this is a love letter to him! :] this fic is all of my favorite things combined and it is SO FREAKING CUUTEEEE UGH i hope you all love it seriously <3333 MWAAHHH I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU—

yuta okkotsu had never seen a girl so beautiful.

you were breathtaking, watching from afar, it was truly as if the world revolved around you in the most positive way yuta could think of.

you were popular— a beam of gorgeous light following you everywhere you went as you were always just enveloped by people and strangers and friends, them wanting to talk to you, wanting to get to know you, wanting you to better their lives because that’s what you selflessly liked to do for everyone without knowing.

and every time he’d walk in between lectures and spot you— feeling in the dumps if on certain days he’d miss your presence entirely, he’d just stare. stare with pink cheeks and softened eyes as you laughed and messed around with your friends or did extracurricular activities around campus, always giving a helping hand to those who needed it no matter the status.

that’s what yuta admired the most about you. you didn’t treat anybody differently just because they didn’t stand in the same level as you. you didn’t care about things like that, and you spoke to people with such fucking class and poise, that he always dozed off picturing how it would be like if he ever had the privilege of actually speaking with you.

that’s how most of his work shifts went at the diner after his classes.

he would wait tables or be in the kitchen, wipe down the windows or run the hostess stand… and you’d be on his mind— permanently there to torment him in the loveliest way he knew how.

and on one sunday night, you were unexpectedly there right in front of him at his job.

“hello?”

you waved a gentle hand over his face, and he snapped out of it immediately, cheeks pinky and bright, your friends snickering.

“yes! s—sorry.” he reached behind the hostess stand. “how many are with you?”

“four!” you responded sweetly, yuta having to swallow the huge lump in his throat as he officially saw your smile up close for the first time in his life— a gorgeous contrast to what it looked like from far away.

yuta quickly grabbed the corresponding menus and stepped to the side of the hostess stand, leading you and your friends through the empty restaurant and to a big booth— placing two menus down on each side of the table.

a series of elvis presley oldies (a personal pick from yuta) played through the jukebox in the middle of the diner while you and your friends scanned the menu, yuta fidgeting and anxious with his pen and notepad, waiting for you to order.

“do you have a favorite milkshake from here?” your kind voice spoke, looking up at him.

“uh— milkshake?”

your friends snickered again, but this time, you turned to them and shot them all a menacing glare.

“hey!— stop that you guys…” you shook your head at them and turned back to a red faced yuta, smiling apologetically. “i’m sorry! i’m really sorry.”

your friends only looked annoyed as they buried their faces in their menus or looked away entirely— yuta shaking his head softly.

“n—no it’s alright. um— i usually prefer this one-”

he timidly pointed his pen downward, the words ‘elvis shake’ reading from it.

“it has uh— vanilla ice cream with peanut butter and bananas.” he pursed his lips. “if… if you like that?”

“oh i’m a whore for anything with peanut butter in it!…” your hands spread flat across the menu as you leaned closer, yuta shyly laughing a little at your wording.

you looked up then, your eyes bright and excited and yuta doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him the way you were at that moment.

“is that why you like it? because of the peanut butter?”

“yeah! yeah definitely... m— mainly because of the name though.”

you stopped and your eyebrows furrowed. “elvis? do you listen to him?”

his cheeks buzzed. “do you?”

“y/n!” one of your friends harshly whispered to you from across the table. “are we here to chit chat or are we here to eat?”

“fuck okay! jesus—”

you and the rest of your group ordered, yuta nervously scribbling down the names of various platters and drinks before silently excusing himself to send the note off to the kitchen staff.

and when it came around to serving your food, placing each individual dish down for each person— yuta gently settled the elvis shake you got in front of you, adorned with baby pink sprinkles over a mountain of whipped cream with a cherry on top, something that yuta did extra for you out of the goodness of his infatuated heart, since it didn’t come with the drink in the first place.

he didn’t know why, but he could tell that the energy was different between you and your friends the second time he came around, and after hiding in the kitchen for the entirety of the time you were there instead of outside waiting tables like he was supposed to, by the third time he came back around— you were fighting with them.

he quickly retreated behind the bar and made himself look busy, guiltily eavesdropping as he picked up a random salt shaker and falsely examined it.

“i don’t understand why you guys can’t just be nice!” you pushed. “is having a normal conversation with somebody that funny? every time?”

“y/n you always talk to a bunch of rando’s of course it’s funny.”

“what the hell does that even mean?”

“it means it looks odd and you’re embarrassing yourself every time you skip around not being mindful of who you’re having conversations with!” one of them seethed, their tone judgemental and rude and one yuta didn’t like at all.

“like— like the server today! i’m pretty sure i’ve seen him around campus, he’s odd. why were you asking him about— about— who the fuck were you asking him about?“

“elvis.” you spat. “i was asking him about elvis."

“that guy! who cares? he works here why do you have to always talk to people like that—”

“like what?!” you threw your arms up. “like a normal decent human being would? i can see why you’d lack that.”

“excuse me?”

“yeah. and it sucks for you.”

“sucks for?— okay. i think we’re done here.”

“way fucking done.”

as each of them scooched out of the booth, yuta watched with wide panicked eyes while you stayed seated and silent, arms crossed over your chest and lips tight as you glared.

“i don’t know why everyone loves you so much…” one of them muttered. “there isn’t anything to you.”

and they all walked out, the bell above the door chiming as they did.

yuta’s eyes darted from you to the exit and to them through the window outside in the parking lot, watching fucking gobsmacked as they all got in one singular car and sped off, leaving you there by yourself and with the responsibility of the bill.

soft sniffles reached him, and he turned then, your body hunched over on the table as you cried with your head down, yuta’s heart aching for you.

he put down the random salt shaker he was holding and walked around the bar, slowly making his way towards your table.

“you don’t—”

you shot up startled.

“sorry! sorry—” he awkwardly scratched his pinky cheek. “i was just— gonna say you don’t have to pay the bill… i— i can—”

“oh! no you don’t have to do that.” you wiped your cheeks. “it’s okay i can pay it.”

“but they left you the entire bill.” he said softly.

“i know… it’s okay! really.” you smiled a little through your tears, the sight making his shoulders slump.

how you could possibly smile at a time like this was beyond him.

yuta started clearing the empty plates from your table when you spoke up again.

“i’m sorry you had to deal with their attitude...” you mumbled. “and my ugly crying.”

he smiled softly and shook his head. “no it’s okay. you shouldn’t apologize for them.”

“i should though…” you whined a little. “they were being mean the moment we got here and were just straight disrespectful.”

you leaned back against the plush of the booth and crossed your arms, muttering. “it’s not like they were my friends either..”

yuta quirked a confused brow, setting the last of the plates away in the kitchen before coming back around. “they weren’t?”

“nuh uh.” you shook your head. “i had just met them today actually, from a sorority event. i thought they were nice at first but i started noticing they were a little bitchy.”

“bitchy?” he laughed a little, his heart leaping like a little leap frog at the realization that it was just you and him at the diner alone, the cooks having already gone home seeing as it was past closing time for the diner.

“yeah…” you sighed deeply through your nose. “they weren’t being very nice to the other girls there either… and— and when they asked me if i wanted to come eat here with them i didn’t really want to go but—” you pursed your lips, a sheepish look on your face. “i have a hard time saying no to people so…”

yuta’s eyes softened, leaning back against the edge of the long bar table as he eyed how resilient you tried to come across but damn well knowing you were hurting inside by their actions, your cheeks still wet and your bottom lip in a slight pout.

“what they said to you wasn’t very nice…” he murmured. “i’m sorry they did that.”

you smiled warmly. “it’s okay. i get it here and there.”

his eyebrows furrowed. “here and there? what do you mean?”

“from other people that i meet.” you perked up slightly then. “do you wanna sit?” you signaled to the seat across from you in the booth and he stiffened, eyes wide and cheeks pink as he reluctantly scooched his legs over and sat across from you.

“they just get a little mad when i don’t do what they want me to do.”

“like be mean? like them?”

you shrugged a little, but the way your gorgeous eyes peered up at him indicated that he was right. “i suppose.”

“are all of your friends like that?”

“oh no! thankfully not…” you fiddled with your fingers on the table. “a lot of them are really sweet.”

yuta never thought about how something like this could be a possibility, as all he saw was how much you were loved and idolized and sought after by literally anyone who knew your name— but he missed the mark on the logistics of it. he should’ve known certain girls wouldn’t be in favor of you and desired what you didn’t have to work very hard for to get.

he saw how you wiped the remnants of your wet cheeks and sniffed, looking like you had at least recovered from crying but still a little dejected as you slouched over the table, eyes down.

“do you want… another elvis shake?”

you looked up. “what?”

“a—another shake. do you want one?” he stood slowly from the booth. “or i could get you ice cream? we just have vanilla and chocolate but—”

“oh no! it’s okay really i don’t want to freeload over what you have—”

he giggled a little. “you’re not freeloading. i’m offering.”

and before you could reject him again, he was already making his way to the kitchen— hands skillfully prepping his favorite milkshake like he’d done so many times before since the age of sixteen, and now skillfully and lovingly preparing it for you, the girl he’s adored since the moment he started college.

you stood and timidly followed after him, but instead of fully going into the kitchen, you stopped in front of the vintage burgundy jukebox and scanned the selection of songs.

“you won’t get in trouble?” you worriedly called over your shoulder. “i don’t want you to run into issues with your job…”

“no it’s okay!” you heard from the kitchen, glasses and silverware clinking together. “i’ve been working here since high school and my manager doesn’t mind. i usually um— close on sunday’s on my own too.”

the blender went off as you spotted your favorite elvis presley song on the list of selections, perking up and quickly digging into your purse for any stray quarters you magically hoped would appear inside.

yuta switched the blender off and unhooked it from the base, pouring out the frothy liquid into a fountain glass cup.

“you close on your own on sunday’s?” your head turned to where he was, catching little glimpses of him from the doorway as he moved to and fro. “the entire restaurant?”

“yeah…” he laughed awkwardly. “well— all of the time.”

“all of the time?!” you gawked, popping your head into the kitchen and accidentally scaring him.

“oh shit!—”

“sorry!” you giggled cutely. “i’m sorry…”

he laughed with you and waved you off. “it’s okay.”

yuta looked down and proceeded topping your milkshake with baby pink sprinkles again. “and yeah we’re kind of… understaffed right now. it’s just me and another kid.”

you hummed understandingly, watching the way he finished off your shake with two cherries on top instead of one like last time, making you softly smile in response.

he plopped a straw in. “here you go.”

“thank you!” you bounced excitedly on your little toes and he grinned, handing the glass over to you gently.

“i hope you feel better…”

your milkshake filled cheeks made him laugh as you paused and swallowed, the sweetest expression ever on your face as your eyes flickered to his name tag and back to him.

“i do yuta… thank you!”

the way his name rang off your tongue, something he never ever would’ve thought to hear come out of your mouth, to come out from you, sent him feeling lightheaded as fuck as he dropped his head down to hide his rosy cheeks, walking out of the kitchen as you followed after him.

you paused in front of the jukebox again.

“oh! i didn’t get to hear your answer from earlier.”

he picked his head up. “from earlier?”

“if— if you listen to elvis?”

“oh—” his gaze drifted to where you had your focus on the elvis presley selection panel on the machine. “i do! i love his music.”

you beamed, eyes lighting up so excitedly as you looked at him.

“oh my god i love him too! so much!”

“really?” he smiled. “do you— do you have a favorite song?”

“yeah! i have a lot...” you giggled shyly. “but i mainly like ‘always on my mind.’”

“that one’s a good one!” his smile grew. “i love that one too.”

“right?!” you stepped closer to him, and his face flushed. “and you? what about you?”

“i uh— i like ‘moody blue’…”

you gushed. “i like that one too!”

you loved the way his pinky cheeks bloomed and how kind he was— the way he tried his best to make you, a stranger, feel better with a cute little milkshake, his stuttering and fidgeting something that you found yourself adoring and only made your heart mushy with the weird need to pinch his rosy cheeks.

and he loved elvis.

“i’m glad you like him.” you hummed, running the pad of your index finger mindlessly over the smooth glittery surface of the jukebox. “people don’t really listen to him or oldies in general now.”

you gently set your nearly finished milkshake on the bar table as he nodded his head in agreement, thinking he couldn’t fall more in love with you over the fact that you actually liked one of his favorite artists. “i didn’t—expect you to either…”

you tilted your head. “really? why?”

“because—” he stammered, eyes darting around your breathtaking face. “well you’re popular. and pretty. and in a sorority. and i just—”

“oh— i see!” you smiled with blushing cheeks at his quick compliment, but it didn’t really reach your eyes. “i understand.”

“no but!—” your eyes stayed glued to the jukebox, and he worried that he might’ve accidentally offended you as he frantically tried to get his words together.

“i know it’s all stereotypes and assumptions so i’m— i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright!” you giggled softly. “i just don’t want you or anyone to get the wrong impression of me because of those things is all…”

your eyebrows pinched in thought, and he quickly shook his head.

“i’ve never!” he reached and placed a hand on your shoulder, your cheeks growing hot as he did so. “i’ve never gotten the wrong impression of you…”

“no?”

“no.”

you peered up at him. “what do you think of me then?”

“what do i—” he gulped. “what do i think?”

“yeah!”

“i think uh… you’re really nice.” he mumbled. “really nice. to everyone.. to me. doesn’t matter who honestly. and… you’re not afraid to say something if someone is being rude.”

yuta shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he avoided your gaze. “and you’re helpful… you put a lot of care into the things that you do, which are always never for your own benefit but for the benefit of others.”

he froze. “i— i see you around campus! a lot— so…”

your doe eyes were soft and filled with affection and warmth, the weight of his words settling into your mind as if they’ve always belonged there. as if he’s always belonged there.

you wrung your fingers behind your back then and leaned up on your tippy toes.

“you think i’m pretty?”

beautiful.

yuta hadn’t even realized that he had called you that until the moment you mentioned it again, his eyes widening as his wobbly lips tried to form coherent sentences for you.

“well— well who doesn’t...” he squeaked.

“but do you?” you leaned even closer, your cute smile nearly making him want to blurt out that he’s in love with you and that he’s maybe thought about you being the mother of his children from time to time.

“i— i do.” his eyes flickered back to yours. “i do.”

you bit your bottom lip and gleamed, giving into your impulses and reaching up to gently squeeze his flushed cheek.

“you’re so cute yuta…” you murmured, arm falling back to your side and eyes casting over the jukebox again.

and he nearly just about died.

“do you want a little donut?” he asked. “i— i can get it from the back—”

you and yuta spent literally the rest of the night until two in the morning chit chatting, playing various oldies tunes on the jukebox that conspired of mainly elvis presley, and yuta literally feeding you and giving you anything he possibly could just so he could watch the way you beamed at him every time he did— even when at one point you literally begged him that it was okay, your tummy absolutely filled with sugary sweets and drinks.

you even helped yuta close— disinfecting and wiping down all of the tables, sweeping the floors, triple shining the little elvis mural the diner had by the hostess stand, and organizing the menu’s for tomorrow’s shift.

in the midst of you wiping down the last of the big glass windows by the entrance with him, you thought of something.

“oh my god yuta—” your head snapped in his direction, his eyes widening at your sudden outburst.

“what if i work here?”

he stopped.

“work here?”

“yeah!” you nodded vigorously. “with you!”

he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming. “with me?”

“uh huh!” you chirped sweetly. “i would love to wipe down tables and listen to music with you everyday..”

yuta’s ears went red as he heard your soft voice say something so cute, wanting to literally run into the kitchen to the sink and dunk his face in sink water to cool off his boiling face.

“if that’s okay!” you sputtered. “am i being weird? am i freaking you out—”

“no! no not at all!” the corners of his lips curled, and he smiled, genuinely smiled. a big loving one that made his cheeks hurt with how hard he was doing it, and one that made your heart lightly flutter inside your chest at the way he was looking at you.

“i can talk to my manager.” he spoke gently. “i’m pretty sure he’ll take you.”

you bounced excitedly on your tippy toes, unexpectedly throwing your arms around him and landing a big fat kiss to his cheek.

“thank you thank you!”

yuta kept true to his word and talked to his manager the following day, who barely even had to think about it since he trusted yuta more than his own damn kids, waving him off and giving him the all clear to have you start the coming week.

“look look! do you likkeeyyy?”

you twirled around in your waitress uniform, the frilly pink fabric moving and swaying with every spin you made as he casually tried to bite down on his thumb in stupid restraint.

“it’s great!” he muttered, teeth locked around his thumb still. “you look great y/n.”

“thanks thanks!”

and you hopped over, giving him another quick kiss on the cheek before skipping away to the kitchen, him ecstatic as he’d been wanting another one so fucking badly again since the first time you did it— him biting down even harder on his thumb when you disappeared from view.

“why do you look like you’re about to shit yourself?”

yuta whipped around and saw his other coworker, yuji, the kid who shares shifts with him sometimes and spills everything and anything that comes out of his mouth without thinking twice about it, standing next to him with a clueless face.

yuji then wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. “is it the girl? the pretty one? the one with the big ass—”

“knock it off—” yuta shoved him away lightly and walked off, crouching down behind the bar counter and sorting through piles of rolled up silverware and buffet napkins.

“do you like her? yes or no?” yuji leaned against the edge of the bar.

his cheeks went pink.

“because if not i’m gonna go try y’know—”

yuta scoffed. “yuji you’re a freshman in high school and we’re in college. she’s in college—”

“okay maybe she likes them young? cougar moment?”

yuta looked at him absolutely horrified and bewildered. “you’re fucking insane—”

his reaction and response only made yuji double over in a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath as yuta looked at him with an unamused face.

“i’m kidding! i’m just kidding i know you like her you’ve been red in the face the minute she clocked in—”

“what’s so funny?”

you popped your head in from the kitchen, making yuta jump again and yuji double over laughing like before, you giving yuta an apologetic look.

“i wanna laugh!” you pouted. “what happened? what’s funny?”

“yuta didn’t like the joke i made.” yuji quipped.

“well what was it? maybe i will!” you smiled sweetly.

“i said—”

“don’t say it!”

yuji ducked as yuta threw a kids menu at him.

“yuta has a cru—”

“shut the fuck up!—”

you covered your mouth with your hands in a little fit of giggles, the sound halting yuta mid throw to look at you with wide dreamy eyes— not wanting to miss the way you laughed and the way your nose crinkled with every hiccup.

yuji snickered and he shot him a glare before standing and walking over to where you stood.

“you don’t wanna hear it…” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with a buffet napkin. “it was freaking weird.”

you settled your giggles down and breathed, nodding cutely. “i’ll take your word for it, yu.”

yu.

“eeehh?! look y/n! look at his face!—”

“shut up!”

for the rest of the days and shifts that you spent together, yuta made it his mission to do things for you to hopefully earn him a sweet cheek kiss in return like last time, all while desperately trying to avoid yuji and his big ginormous annoying mouth actively corrupting some of his attempts on purpose.

yuta would try and bring you any kind of pastry he could give away to you without his manager knowing, or make you milkshakes randomly throughout your shifts or small BLT’s during lunch time to feed you, all for the purpose of watching the way you’d smile and hug him gratefully each time, and if he got lucky, a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“i don’t get it.” yuji shook his head during one of your shifts, him shuffling through a movie magazine on his break. “why don’t you just ask her for a kiss on the cheek? hm? i’d bet she’d do it! ooo better yet—” he looked at him with sarcastic laced excitement. “ask her out you little loser.”

yuta’s cheeks were hot as he listened, watching you from the kitchen take orders and scribble them down on a notepad.

“it’s been months yuta. months. i am in agony every day watching you follow her around like a lost puppy even though it’s the funniest thing i’ve ever seen.”

yuta rolled his eyes, but sent him a small sad smile. “can’t do it.”

“why not?” he whined. “she likes you too!”

“because she’s out of my league.” yuta pursed his lips. “and no i don’t think she likes me.”

“oh man—” yuji hunched over the sink, tossing his magazine to the side and gripping the rim in exhaustion. “she kisses your cheeks and hugs you and literally took this job because of you! what more proof do you want?!” he grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “a straight up confession?! a straight up kiss?!”

yuta’s heart accelerated at the thought as he pictured yuji’s words clear in his mind.

would you ever kiss him?… would you ever like him back?

“m—maybe?”

“what about school! do you guys not hang out or talk at school?”

“we do!” yuta perked up, but his shoulders quickly slumped. “we’re in different circles though so it’s always just for a little bit or casually.”

yuji groaned loudly and smacked a hand over his forehead. “it’s useless. you’re on your own man i tried i tried so hard i can’t help you—”

he continued to mutter under his breath as he picked up his backpack and walked out of the kitchen and out of the restaurant, the end of his shift drawing near as yuta laughed to himself over his words.

he appreciated how much yuji cared and how badly he wanted him to succeed, but even though his unrealistic expectations and hopes annoyed him most of the time as he blabbed on to him about them, yuta knew he was just a kid. so he valued it anyways.

“yu!” you spoke from behind the bar, him quickly rubbing his sweaty palms over his pants as he walked out of the kitchen to you.

“i’m so excited for tonight!” you smiled, your giddy little self practically bouncing off the walls in anticipation.

he laughed. “you’re excited to clean?”

“yup yup! i’m excited to clean with you.”

with him.

yuta adored sunday’s because that’s when you were both scheduled to close together on your own— just like the first time you did months ago, back when you weren’t working there yet.

there were no cooks, no yuji, no manager, and no customers. just you and him as you blasted elvis singles on the jukebox and got a sugar high from the ice cream machine as you wiped down tables and dusted off shelves— one time you literally slipping on the checkered tile by the entrance because you forgot you had just mopped the floor, yuta practically jumping over the bar counter to see if you were okay and him absolutely sick and worried over nothing as he showered you with more pastries and sweets to help you feel better.

that sunday night he got a kiss on the cheek.

so as you both bid the last customers a good night and got right to work, yuta considered yuji’s dumb words.

maybe he should just ask?

“if elvis was still alive i would probably sell myself to go see him.”

he let out a shocked laugh. “sell yourself? like prostitution?”

“mhm!” you hummed, wiping down the bar counter. “think about it— his tickets would probably cost like three thousand dollars. where the hell am i gonna get three thousand dollars? i’m broke and in college.”

yuta shook his head, his lips in an amused grin. “anything for elvis.”

“exactly!” you leaned over the counter excitedly, yuta on the other side with pink cheeks and a fuzzy feeling in his heart. “you get it. only you understand me.”

he laughed.

“i think it’d be cool if they brought him back as a hologram and did concerts that way.” yuta suggested.

you gasped incredulously as a hand flew to slap over your mouth. “yu! you little genius! oh my god i have to start pimping myself out now—”

yuta laughed again and shook his head. “don’t do that. we’ll find a way to get in.”

“we?!” you propped yourself up on the counter with your elbows and cupped his hands in yours, him stiffening with wide eyes and wobbly nervous lips. “you wanna go with me?”

“y—yeah.” he stammered. “of— of course…”

you squealed and nodded quickly, seemingly accepting the hypothetical proposal.

but then you settled down a little. your eyelashes slowly fluttering as you stared at him— a slow 50s love song statically murmuring through the jukebox adding to the atmosphere as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

but this time it was different.

it wasn’t quick and cutesy and one that yuta barely had time to bask over before you pranced away. it was slow, tender, and yuta could feel the way your soft lips touched his skin and left behind a burn as he let his eyes close at the blissful gentle feeling, him finally able to relish in the rarity of it before you slightly began pulling away, eyes twinkling.

“…do you still think i’m pretty?” you whispered.

he swallowed thickly, your face so close he could feel your breath fanning across his lips.

“i do.” he whispered back, eyes locked on yours. “very much so.”

you bit your bottom lip as you smiled, ever so slightly leaning closer and closer to him as your lips nearly brushed against—

riinnggg!

you quickly pulled away and ran to the back to answer the phone, leaving yuta sitting there swooning and nearly collapsing on the table, his hands cold from not being encased in your own soft hands anymore.

but most of all… leaving him confused. he didn’t know why you were leaning in like that.

“i’m sorry we’re closed for the day!… uh huh… we open at eight am tomorrow if—”

yuta could still feel the blaze your lips left behind on his cheek as you spoke on the phone, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he tried to get his head back down from the clouds and simmer down the beating of his heart.

“someone wanted to come in right now!” you exclaimed, coming back over to your previous spot.

he furrowed his eyebrows. “right now? are you serious? it’s—” he spun around on the barstool and turned his head to the coca cola themed vintage clock on the wall. “it’s nearly twelve am?”

“i know!” you breathed out. “we closed four hours ago.”

“four?!—”

it dawned on the both of you how long you had been inside the diner, fully convinced it would’ve been longer if you hadn’t noticed.

so as the two of you mutually agreed to finish up and gather your things— the jukebox switched to an iconic elvis presley slow love song as you were just about halfway through the entrance double doors, eyes snapping to each other’s.

“aw i love this one…” you spoke softly, a little whine seeping through.

a small close lipped smile spread across his face. “i love this one too.”

“do you wanna—” you stopped.

his eyebrows pinched. “do i wanna what?”

“do you wanna… dance with meee?” you dragged out cutely, slightly bouncing on your toes.

“dance?” his eyes widened. “i— i don’t know how—”

“s’okay! i’ll teach you!”

you quickly pulled his hand and dragged him out, opening one door and jamming a door stopper underneath it so the music of the jukebox leaked out of the diner and through the empty street.

the pavement was a little wet from the morning rain as you took his hand again and pulled him to the middle of the dead empty street, the bottom of your shoes tapping and splashing a little with each tiny puddle you stepped in.

elvis presley’s voice softly hummed through the air, but it was loud and clear to the both of you as you gently took yuta’s hands and set them around your waist, his heart fucking palpitating and feeling like he was about to have a stroke when you wrung your arms over his neck and showed him that pretty smile he loved so much.

you both slowly stepped side to side, the air crispy and cold as your breath’s blew out foggy misty clouds due to the condensation, both of your noses and cheeks flushing red and buzzing warmly as you continued to slow dance— yuta’s grip slowly tightening until he was practically hugging you flush against his body.

out of anything that could possibly happen to yuta in his life, he wanted to remember this moment specifically— with you, dancing in the middle of the street listening to the man that essentially brought you both together in the first place, your beautiful beautiful face looking at him like he was the most important thing in your life… yuta wanting so badly for that to come true as he basked in this little made up scenario in his head that you were already his.

“yu…” you murmured.

he didn’t trust his voice.

“hm?”

“why haven’t you kissed me yet.”

what?

“kissed… you?”

“yeah..” you whispered, your bodies swaying. “don’t you like me?”

yuta let out a shaky breath. “i— i mean yeah… who doesn’t?”

your smile faltered. “i’m talking about you though…”

“oh. well you know i do. i’m sure a lot of other guys would want to kiss you.”

the song drawled to a gradual close and the jukebox reset, you both no longer swaying but still holding on to each other.

your eyes drifted to the side. “other guys?”

he pursed his lips, not really liking the thought of you kissing guys, but answering your question anyways. “yeah… other guys.”

his emphasis on other guys and not on himself left a bad taste in your mouth.

your eyes narrowed in confusion as you looked up at him, yuta a little shocked at your sad expression.

did he say something wrong?

“i thought—” you shook your head softly. “i thought you…?”

“…thought me what?” he cocked his head to the side, his genuine confusion solidifying his rejection in your eyes.

“i— i thought—”

your hands slipped from his shoulders and you stepped back, yuta sadly complying and letting his arms open and fall beside him as you rapidly blinked back tears, his eyes slowly widening once he caught it.

“hey— are you okay? what’s wrong?”

yuta went and reached for you, you backing away in response as you shook your head and gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes at all.

“why are you crying? did i say something mean? i’m sorry—”

“no no i’m fine.” your voice was quiet and sad. “i think we should go home now.”

his shoulders deflated.

“are you sure? we— we usually hang out until at least one in the morning on sunday’s…”

you walked past him and towards the double doors of the diner, letting your tears slip in secret as you picked up your school bag and swung it over your shoulder, quickly wiping your cheeks before picking up his bag and giving it to him.

yuta thanked you and hoisted his backpack up on himself, ushering you gently to step to the side as he pulled the door stopper from beneath and placed it in its corresponding place by the entrance, letting the door close on its own before pulling out the keys from the pocket of his jacket and locking the diner up.

he did all of this— completely unaware to the way you were trying to quiet down your sniffles behind him.

you were so sure he liked you back… now you just felt a little stupid.

of course— the one genuine guy you came across that you actually liked out of all the others that you’ve met, one that wasn’t like the rest and was sweet and funny and caring and so so attentive of you… didn’t like you back.

the one thing you truly truly wanted, you simply couldn’t have— you walking ahead of yuta in silence through the parking lot with your arms crossed as you wondered if the way he treated you was literally just because that’s how he was as a person.

a good person at that. way too good for this world, and way too good for you.

yuta didn’t know why you were so quiet, his chest a bit achy at the absence of your usual cheerful voice.

when you reached your cars, you barely even bid him a proper goodbye like you always did before you got in your car and sped away, leaving a perplexed yuta standing alone in the parking lot— eyebrows pinched together in clueless concern.

you were acting so weird, and you unfortunately continued to do so for the following week.

the next time you came into the diner (which was literally the next day), yuta was taken aback by how bloodshot and sunken your eyes were when you came in for your shift, not saying a single peep to yuji and him when you walked through the kitchen or through the bar counter like you usually did… and it was weird.

through the bustling of the busy restaurant, it was oddly quiet to the two boys, simply because you weren’t your usual boastful self.

and you were hardly talking to yuta either… which pained him the most. you kept it strictly casual— as if you weren’t completely tied together every fucking day for almost a year now, you just completely casual about your day and about the things you had to do whenever he asked you, your one word dry responses sending him through the worst confusing and sadistic loop of his life.

but it wasn’t casual at all. nothing about you was casual. so why were you acting like this? did you finally maybe open your eyes and realize yuta was a big fat nobody who didn’t belong with a girl like you?

yuta nearly cried at the thought. perhaps you had finally realized that.

but how fucking cruel was it that he lived a year of love and beauty and everything that was just you, getting a taste of what it would be like to live a life where you thought of him as something really special and a life where you wanted to basically do everything with him— only to be ripped away from him overnight? with no explanation?

by wednesday, yuta was dead inside.

you didn’t seem to want to do anything with him anymore like before. you didn’t excitedly jump and squeal and bounce on your little toes when it was time for the both of you to clean during your shift or restock the ice cream machine. you didn’t talk to him about elvis anymore or about another ludicrous idea on how to resurrect him from the dead— you didn’t smile like you used to whenever he tried to give you a small pastry, actually rejecting it instead, and you didn’t kiss his cheeks anymore.

by friday, yuji was fed the fuck up.

“what the fuck did you do?!” he whispered harshly at him from the bar, you somewhere in the diner taking orders. “that woman is like a walking zombie. her eyes have been red like red since monday, and she’s not yapping about elvis anymore.”

yuta leaned against the counter with a flat palm to his forehead in worry, feeling like he was gonna be fucking sick over you.

“i— i don’t know.” he stuttered. “i truly don’t know i don’t know what i said that’s making her act like that.”

“okay run it back for me run it back.” he placed both hands on his shoulders and roughly pulled yuta to face him. “explain to me again what happened on sunday.”

“we were closing…”

“uh huh?”

“she wanted to slow dance in the street so we did…”

“okay cute i love that part okay keep going..?”

“and then she asked why haven’t i kissed her—“

“she what?!” yuji choked, “you didn’t tell me this part! you fucking jumped to the parking lot!”

“my bad…” yuta muttered.

“shit— whatever keep going.”

“she also said that she thought i liked her and i said who doesn’t… and then i told her i was sure other guys would want to kiss her.”

“you said other guys?”

yuta’s eyebrows pinched. “yeah?”

“you. said…” yuji repeatedly slowly. “other. guys.”

“yes i did—”

“oh you’re done.” he rapidly shook his head. “i can’t help you i’ve done all i can you’re my buddy and i love you but i cannot take this anymore—”

“woah woah slow the fuck down—” he narrowed his eyes. “what’s so bad about what i said?”

“you rejected her.”

“what? no i didn’t—”

“yes!” yuji nodded frantically. “yes you did you freaking dingus! yuta she wanted a kiss from you a kiss! she literally said ‘when are you going to kiss me!’”

“i thought she was joking about that?” he answered softly.

“i might die early if you don’t figure this out right now.” yuji spat. “when you said other guys, she took it as you saying you’re sure other guys would want to kiss her and not you! do you understand what i’m trying to say?!”

yuta stayed silent.

“you said ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you,’ which is you indirectly saying ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you but not me.’ emphasis on others—”

“holy fucking shit.”

why was yuji kind of smart?

“oh thank god!” yuji breathed out, throwing his hands up in the air before clasping them together and looking up at the ceiling, his eyes screwed shut as he shook his interlocked hands and prayed.

“thank you! thank you elvis presley for finally making him see what a dumbass he’s been this entire year especially this moment your music has never been better—”

yuta shoved his fingers through his hair, his eyes bulging open. “holy fucking shit what the fuck did i do?!”

you walked past the bar just then and they both shot their arms down and tried to appear as nonchalant as humanly possible, you not even sparing them a glance as you walked over to the kitchen and disappeared from view.

“oh you have got to fix this.”

yuta spent the rest of the week trying to devise a plan to ease into the situation and have a conversation with you about it, but doing it fucking poorly as he miserably couldn’t come up with anything and yuji having even worse ideas— going as far as to suggesting he kidnaps you and takes you to elvis presley’s home in graceland and apologize there, yuji calling it a ‘grand gesture.’

by sunday, yuta was grasping at straws.

you slowly looked up from the bar as you saw a little sprinkled donut pastry slide across from the other side, your stinging eyes locking with yuta’s and feeling an immediate colossal pang through your chest when you saw him.

“you um—” yuta sighed softly through his nose. “you haven’t had a donut from here in a while…”

“oh.” your eyes stayed glued to the pastry. “thank you but i’m alright. i’m not that hungry right now.”

yuta bit his tongue. “please.”

he wasn’t pleading for you to eat the damn donut, but he pathetically couldn’t get the words out properly either.

“i don’t want it i’m okay.”

“why not?” he pushed. “you love donuts. you haven’t accepted my milkshakes either and you love those too.”

“i got sick of them.”

yuta froze.

you sounded like a completely different person at the moment, and yuta knew that your words held an entirely different meaning to them— his heart literally throwing up all over his insides in distress.

it was near closing time, the last pair of customers just about finishing up their meal as you both stared solemnly at the uneaten donut.

“are you—” yuta cleared his throat. “are you mad at me?”

the customers called you over then, and you quickly pushed yourself off from the edge and walked over as yuta heard your kind customer service voice from somewhere in the diner finalizing the bill for them, the bell above the door chiming as they left— you coming back around to stand back on the other side of the bar.

“sorry what did—”

“are you mad at me.”

you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “no. why would i be mad?”

“are you upset with me?”

you hummed a no.

yuta wanted to rip his hair out at the fact that he couldn’t fucking think of what to say to you— not wanting to accidentally say something that could offend you like last time without him even knowing, as he didn’t trust his mouth for shit.

“you haven’t looked okay since last sunday.” he murmured. “you don’t look happy around me anymore.”

you pulled your lips into a thin line and pressed hard, already feeling tears threatening to spill.

“it’s just school. it’s tough at the moment.” you mumbled.

“you’re lying.”

you slightly snorted. “okay thanks.”

“no— fuck i did it again.” he screwed his eyes shut. “i know you’re upset with me and i know you’re mad at me. you don’t talk to me as much, you don’t— you don’t take any of the sweets and drinks i give you when you always do, and you refuse to talk to me about elvis.”

“it’s school yuta i don’t know what else to tell you.”

he groaned and pushed himself off the bar, swiftly making his way around the counter to stand right in front of you as your pretty red eyes widened, your body immediately fidgeting.

“please… i miss you.” he mumbled, and your bottom lip started to wobble. “i miss when you wanted me around.”

“i— i do want you around.” you said, so so softly he could barely hear you.

“then please tell me what you’re feeling.”

you brought your hands up and pressed your fingers into your eyes, trying your absolute hardest to keep the tears inside as your body trembled.

“it’s all me it’s not you so— so please don’t worry about it it’s school and— and—”

“i love you.”

you paused.

yuta shakily pried your fingers away from your eyes, holding them in his hands as silent tears escaped down your cheeks.

you shook your head. “no you don’t. you’re just saying that—”

“i love you.”

“stop it you’re being mean i don’t need you to tell me you love me because you feel bad for me—”

you tried to tear your hands away but his grip only tightened as he shook his head and wrung you in, pressing your hands flat over his heart and holding them there as he leaned and pushed his lips to yours, the taste and feeling of you complete fucking paradise as he hoped that the weight of his lips were conveying how much he truly fucking loved you, how much he truly needed you in his life and how much he wanted you to treat him like he was something to you again.

he was tired of you carrying around the missing half of him, but not because he wanted you to give it back.

he wanted you to keep it. he wanted you to keep it forever and ever and not let it dangle over ineptly like you’d done for the past week. he wanted you to kiss it and shove it next to your heart and keep it there snug where it belonged until the day that he died.

the jukebox murmured another soft 50s tune, you slowly but surely letting your tense shoulders relax as you allowed your lips to move against his, your heart screaming and zooming through your bones at the fact that this man was kissing you like you’d wanted and dreamed for him to do so badly for the past year.

you both slowly pulled away with your lips quietly smacking apart, your stunning face finally looking at him the way you always did, the way you used to, even if it was a little timid still.

“are you lying?” you murmured.

his eyes softened as he gently shook his head.

“absolutely not.”

“but you rejected me.”

he sighed through his nose, his hands still pressing yours over his heart as you felt it beat rapidly under your palms.

“i— i didn’t mean to. i swear to god i didn’t mean to.” he gently dropped his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “i was being stupid and worded everything wrong. but— but i’m telling you now that i wanted to kiss you… so fucking bad. you’re too pretty for me so i honestly thought i just didn’t stand a chance…”

you couldn’t believe it.

“i don’t want other guys to kiss you.” he continued. “not at all… just me.”

“just you?” you murmured, and he nodded against your forehead.

“just me.” he propped his chin on the top of your head. “i’m sorry i hurt you and made you cry.”

“no yu…” you spoke gently. “i’m sorry too. and i’m sorry i said i was sick of the sweets you give me… i was lying i love them.”

he chuckled softly.

“it’s okay… i know.” yuta gently caressed your fingers with his thumbs. “but i love you pretty.”

“i love you.” you whispered, and you slid your hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him down in a warm embrace as he copied and pulled your body to his so so tightly, your hearts beating in time with one another as he felt his fingertips go numb at your confession, kissing your soft little cheeks over and over and over again until he got giggles out of you.

yuta loved sunday’s… and so did you.

and when he asked you to be his girlfriend that same night while standing over the jukebox, staring at the elvis presley song selection like you’d done many times together before in the past, yuta for the first time realized that he hadn’t felt alone since the moment you came into the diner with your mean friends— finding himself actually thanking them in his head for that, realizing that if they hadn’t then you probably would’ve left with them and he would’ve never gotten the chance to speak to you that night.

the next time you both came into work, you back to your usual jumpy self as you took every pastry that yuta gave you again and babbled about elvis and how you were gonna spend your hypothetical prostitution money on a flight to memphis to see his grave and pay your respects, yuji was elated.

“what happened?! you have to tell me what happened come on you can’t keep it from me i’m just a boy—”

you skipped into the kitchen then and smoothly walked in between them, pressing a gentle cute peck to yuta’s lips before grabbing what you needed from the back and walking back out, yuji’s mouth flinging open and his jaw hitting the fucking floor.

“how— what— when— where—”

you stepped back in after a second and bounded over next to yuta, his eyes soft as he watched you lean your head on his shoulder.

“what?” you asked. “what’s wrong yuji?”

“oh god no!” he wailed, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes in agony. “i thought this is what i wanted but it’s not! i want a kiss like that man!”

he flew to his knees in front of you and took your hand in his. “y/n why can’t you just wait for me please?! wait five years you’re so pretty i won’t confuse you like this dingbat and i’ll give you better sweets and milkshakes than him please!—”

yuta took your hand and slapped yuji’s away. “you freak stand up man the floor is dirty—”

“i need a popular gorgeous girlfriend like you yuta! how could you do this?! i thought we were brothers?! what spell did you cast?! have you ever learned jujutsu?! what have i done!—”

your manager popped his head into the kitchen and you all stiffened.

“yuji why are you crying? everyone outside can hear you, kid.”

yuji flew to his feet and shook his head. “m’not crying sir. everything is fine just fine and dandy sir.”

“okay… well can you check on your tables? leave yuta and y/n to work.”

“yes sir i’ll check on them sir.”

your manager nodded, muttering something about today’s generation as he left and went back inside his office, yuji walking out of the kitchen shortly after with his head down as you both tried your hardest to keep your laughter in, hands tightly clasped over your mouths and silently snickering to keep yuji from hearing it on the other side.

“p—poor him.” you heaved, a hand over your chest. “i hope— i hope he finds his ‘popular girlfriend’ when he’s older.”

“i wish her luck.” he muttered, and your hand slapped back over your mouth again as you burst into another fit of giggles alongside him.

yuta sheepishly outstretched his arms for you once you both settled down, you perking up excitedly with a cutesy little grin as you skipped into them, your arms wrapping snug around his torso as he brought his around your shoulders and squeezed, earning a tiny squeak from you that made him laugh.

he hoped to god he wasn’t dreaming.

yuta started shifting his weight from one to the other, gently moving and swaying you side to side in the kitchen as you giggled and let him lead you like that.

“you slow dancing yu?” you murmured softly, head coming up to give him a kiss on the cheek as he blushed.

“yeah..” he hummed. “i like it when we do.”

“i do too yu… it’s like our little thing! we’re so vintage.”

he snorted, and a charming beautiful smile spread across your face— one that made him wonder how he ever managed to land you when all he did was wait tables and stutter foolishly and wasn’t anyone particularly special like you were.

but you. you were everything. everything and way fucking more as you looked at him like he built the diner himself brick by brick for reasons he still couldn’t understand why.

yuta spoke after a moment.

“…what do you think of me?” he murmured suddenly, cheek mushing up against the side of your head as your brows furrowed.

“what do i think of you?” you asked, your perplexed face slowly shifting to one of realization as it dawned on you how yuta was reiterating your words to him from when you first met.

he grinned. “yeah.”

you pulled back to face him.

“i think you’re kind… you always have been even when i didn’t deserve it.”

his jaw dropped. “what? didn’t deserve it?—”

“i’m not finished!” you pouted, and he playfully rolled his eyes as he shut his lips.

“you’re too good to me yu…” you sighed a little. “you’re so helpful and selfless, and even when things piss you off you still take the time to appreciate them… like yuji.”

you both snickered then, and yuta brought his head down and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“i love the way you love, yuta. i love the way you love me and take care of me and always feed me…” you giggled. “without me ever having to ask.”

you felt his arms tighten around you.

“don’t ever think that you aren’t special to me or anyone or i’ll kill you and go to graceland without you.”

he laughed loudly in your neck and pulled back, half lidded ditzy loving eyes staring back as he leaned in and kissed you— gentle and delicate, his hands coming up to cup your warm cheeks.

“jesus man table nine would not stop asking me for— oh god no!”

you and yuta jumped apart, yuji immediately wailing and crying again as he flung himself to the floor on his knees.

“really?! in my kitchen?! in front of my face?! how cruel can you be yuta?! y/n can you maybe give me a ki—”

yuta leaned down and smacked him upside the head.

“owwwuhh! what’s wrong with just one little kiss man?!—”

“cut. it. out!—”

and just like always, the week came and went, sunday fast approaching as the day eventually came to close the diner together like lovely clockwork— wiping down tables and sweeping the floors, organizing the menu’s and restocking the crayons for the little kids, gulping down milkshakes with yuta like water as you worked…

but most importantly— sharing long kisses in between each sweeping rotation, kissing and pinching his cheeks repeatedly whenever he asked or did literally anything, and slow dancing to the same 50s love song that played when you first tried to kiss him at the bar that one night, swaying together in a silly way and giggling whenever you’d both nearly topple over to the floor— yuta beaming and lovesick as he looked down at your gorgeous smile and your gorgeous face… it gleaming with so much purpose, so much pure love and importance and value for him as you danced—

that yuta decided he wanted you to keep the other remaining half of him too.

forever.

this! is the song that was playing when reader was about to give yuta a kissy kissy on the bar counter, and again at the end if you’re curious :3 it was playing when i wrote it and it literally fit so well and lifted my entire body and spirit and i felt like i was THERE MAN! <333

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs

(HATE when tumblr doesn’t let me tag some of yall i don’t know why it does that!!)

[chelseeebe]

gimme a hand

okay so i saw a silly tiktok abt how guys take nudes wrong and thought our lovely best friend reader could help eddie take some !! i am a little tipsy so pls excuse any mistakes

mdni. 18+. smut. like, literally just smut. fem!reader x eddie. modern au

“so.. how are things with you and.. whatshername?” clicking your fingers in his face.

eddie scoffs, batting your hand away, “chrissy is her name,” correcting your childish behaviour, “and it’s good, we’ve been.. texting a little,” shrugging nonchalantly.

you and eddie had been best friends for years, though these hang outs were few and far between now. both too busy with the perils of adult life to sit around and smoke weed all day, like you used to.

that meant that your relationship had skewed a bit, no longer as close as you once were. though you still tried to feign an interest in his, mostly nonexistent, love life.

he understood though, your life was far too interesting to care about the very small roster of girls he was seeing.

“texting?” you exclaim, stubbing the embers of the joint out into the ashtray, “so you haven’t seen her since?”

eddie shakes his head, realising that what he had thought was an exciting update, was actually just a pathetic retelling of a long text thread.

“i think we’re just.. testing the waters,” brushing off your disappointment. he contemplates even telling you anymore but what kind of a best friend would he be if he didn’t at least tell you all the details. “she sent me pictures the other day,” wriggling his eyebrows.

“pictures?” a slight mocking tone to your voice that he doesn’t like, “what kinda pictures?”

his face scrunches up, cheeks flaming red, as if it wasn’t obvious. “you know.. naughty ones.”

you whistle, blowing the air from your cheeks in the most sarcastic manner, “naughty pictures.. wow eddie, you’re really moving up in the world. did you send any back?”

his head dips, regretful of ever sharing this with you. you had never had a lack of choice for guys lining up for you. even back in high school. of course you wouldn’t understand.

“no..” shrugging again, “i don’t.. don’t know how.”

“you don’t know how to send nudes?” utter shock rippling through your voice, “didn’t i teach you anything?”

“not how to send nudes!” he hits back, getting increasingly frustrated that you’d rather mock him than help him get laid for once.

“i can help you if you want,” you offer, “i don’t have to watch.. i can just.. guide you?” proposing the question as if it were a completely standard conversation for you two to be having.

“really?” his eyes bright and full of hope.

eddie really liked chrissy, she was sweet and the times they had hung out, they got on well. he just wasn’t equipped to match her flirting, afraid he’d overthink himself into losing her.

“sure,” you smile, grabbing his phone as you stand from the couch, “come on,” beckoning for him to follow you down the corridor to the bathroom.

you bundle into the trailers tiny bathroom, poised in front of the mirror with his phone in hand.

“you stand here..” you instruct, guiding him by the shoulders, “you need to get hard,” grinning as you look at him through the mirror, “i’ll stand outside and just.. tell you what to do, okay?”

eddie’s too high for this, wondering how you’d gone from a joint and a couple of beers to now helping him sext the girl he liked.

you disappear outside, shoving his phone into his chest, the knob clicking quietly as the realisation of what the hell he was doing sets in.

“so..” he poises, swiping onto the camera, posing himself in the dirty mirror, “pull my pants down, right?” wanting to make sure that he got nothing wrong.

“yeah, but not all the way, just like.. a little bit.”

okay, he thinks. tugging his sweatpants down just beneath his balls, his boxers following suit. he was getting hard just thinking about it, the fact that you were instructing him what to do wasn’t helping.

his fingers wraps around the base of his cock, pumping his fist a few times, stifling the groan that had settled in his throat.

this was already weird enough, he didn’t need to make it weirder.

“okay..” his voice quivering, “what now?”

you tut, “pull your shirt up.. or off, it looks bad otherwise.”

eddie does as you ask, taking his shirt off and tossing it into the floor with the rest of his dirty clothes. he peers at the image through the screen, inwardly cringing at how stupid he looked.

“i don’t know,” though his dick was already stiff, aching for him to continue. “i look stupid,” he frowns, attempting to position the phone differently, although nothing seemed to help his pathetic stature.

“no you don’t,” your voice rings through the door, “now you gotta pose it.. make it look good, sexy.”

his eyes squeeze shut, wishing you’d stop talking with that low growl in your voice. this was for chrissy’s benefit, not his. getting off to the sound of your voice while trying to arouse another girl was not the plan.

eddie exhales, opening his eyes to reposition the phone, closer to the mirror. his fist begging to move and finish the job.

nothing helped, in fact, it looked worse than before. chrissy’d block him if he dared sent anything like this.

fuck, he felt like a pervert. this was wrong. twisted.

“have you done it?” you call.

“no,” he gulps, frowning at the image of himself in the mirror.

you huff, knuckles wrapping against the door, “i’m gonna come in, okay?” giving him no time to think before you appear next to him in the mirror.

your eyes fall straight to his cock, widening every so slightly, “wow.. okay,” chuckling awkwardly as you snap back into it. “you have to..” your hand lowers his phone, straightening the camera position for him.

his breath is jagged, on the edge of exploding and splattering all over his bathroom. whatever buzz he had had from the weed had dissipated, replaced by the hazy tingly sensation of your hand near his cock.

“and then..” you look to him, in person this time, not through the safety of the mirror, before wrapping your fingers around the ones that were still lingering around his cock. “do this..” voice trailing off into a low whisper, using his fist to pump his already leaking cock.

a strangled gasp leaves his mouth, heat searing through his body. mind too fuzzy to truly comprehend the shit he was seeing and feeling.

the heat of your body presses against his back, delicate fingers still travelling the length of his cock, “film it,” not once letting your eyes fall from the side of his face while his stay firmly on the mirror in front.

maybe this way he could pretend it wasn’t real, that he was just watching some video and you weren’t actually jerking him off by-proxy.

eddie, ever obedient, presses the record button, sighing into his phone as your his hand continues to move.

his knees almost buckle, kept afloat by the sound of you panting into his ear. it was almost too much, his brain collapsing into itself as your hand takes over, ignoring the phone in his hand to continue making him whine and quiver like that.

the weight of your body presses him into the cold china basin, eyes travelling from his face to his dick and right back up again.

you could’ve told him to jump right now and he would’ve. other hand reaching around to grab onto whatever part of you he could get a grip on.

your lips trace against his neck, lingering against the skin. he couldn’t keep the phone straight, the video would just be some big blur of him groaning and the sink. not that it matters. not while you’re touching him.

“is this good?” you ask, breath tickling against his ear.

eddie nods rapidly, “good.. so good,” fingers twisting around your shirt as his eyes flutter closed. “fuck,” he gasps, the phone slipping from his hand onto the counter when your thumb circles the tip of his dick. an otherworldly feeling he had never been able to feel before.

“yeah?” you grit, pulling his hand, signalling for him to turn. his bones were jelly, body mailable and under your control. his back now pressed against the sink, foreheads pressed together.

one hand holds onto your hip while the other finds your cheek, lazily trying to connect your lips. your knee slides between his legs, spreading them just enough for your other hand to creep between and grab his balls.

“ohh shit,” eddie wails, kissing at your bottom lip, sucking at the skin.

nothing felt real, waiting for his alarm to pull him out of this fucked dream to a sticky puddle and a new perspective on your friendship.

your expert fingers fondle his balls while the other fists his dick, pre-cum making your fingers glisten and move with ease.

his throat squeaks, the most pitiful noise a grown man could’ve made, his bottom lip still latched onto yours.

ten years of friendship and yet the two of you had never even kissed before. wishing you wouldn’t have wasted so much time on actually doing it. a newfound adoration for the sweet taste of your lips and the friction of your palm rubbing against his cock.

“i’m gonna cum,” he babbles, stomach flipping, waves of pleasure crashing through his tingling limbs.

you don’t respond to his whining, your nose brushes over his as his breaths become shallow and staggered. a iron clad grip on your shirt as he teeters over the edge, hips stuttering into your palm.

“ohh fuck,” eddie mewls, bursting all over your hand, “shit.. fuck, oh god,” your eyes dark, gazing down at your hand still wrapped around him, somewhat proud of what you’ve achieved.

he lets go of his hold on your body, hurriedly trying to find the counter to ground himself. his head a million miles away on mars, his lack of thoughts disrupted by the sound of the water running.

chest still heaving as he braves a look at you, watching his release swirl down the drain. you’re chewing on your bottom lip, a sudden realisation that you had just made your best friend cum maybe. he doesn’t really want to ask. hoping you won’t regret it.

eddie picks up his phone, stopping the recording, his thumb shooting straight to the tiny trash can until you grab his wrist.

“don’t delete it,” a fire within your eyes, twisting the screen in your direction, “i wanna watch.”’

his finger hovers over the play button, looking to you though your eyes are trained on the screen, waiting for him to press play.

the video starts, shaky footage as the audio of his pathetic grunts and gasps fill the tiny bathroom. eddie can’t bring himself to watch, forcing himself to watch you rather than the video.

you’re smiling to yourself, smug at the sight of you making him crumble. he wants to be embarrassed, can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and yet, he doesn’t turn it off.

“maybe don’t send that..” you remark, finding his eye, that mischievous sparkle that eddie hadn’t seen in years, reappearing.

he needed to feel you, in the way that you had felt him. cock already reawakening when your lips twitch into a smirk.

shit.

[shysuccubusstuff]

Yandere! Mr. Crawling

Content: SFW hcs + Established relationship + Overprotection + Manipulation + Baby trapping + clingy! Mr. Crawling + Gaslighting + Somnophilia + Stalking + Death + Breeding kink + Slight size difference.

Summary: Human! Mr. Crawling who tries to keep his deep love secret from you

Note: I hope all of you are having a good day!! I'm trying to do my essays but they're so boring... Let me know if you have any suggestions/things you want to say to me, I love answering to people!!

SFW:

Human! Mr. Crawling who falls in love as soon as he sees your face.

Human! Mr. Crawling who decides to try and keep you safe and protect you from all possible dangers. This ranges from leaving small gifts for you, buying you something to eat when he hears a rumble close to him, or buying you a drink if he has seen you working so hard on keeping up with all the classes, to sometimes intimidating the other guys that kept trying to get closer to you.

Human! Mr. Crawling who tries his hardest to speak to you, even if it's just a few words to make sure you know he's listening to you. Nodding his head and keeping his eyes completely focused on your face.

Human! Mr. Crawling who tries to make himself look smaller, crunching a bit and walking with his back a bit arched, not something that can be easily noticeable for others, but just enough to reduce the height difference between the two of you.

Human! Mr. Crawling who is finally able to make you feel safe with him, allowing him to get into your bedroom, even to the point of making a sleepover. He just had to try his hardest not to act in any weird manner.

Human! Mr. Crawling who keeps following you like a lost puppy. You can almost see two ears and a tail appear when he acts like a small puppy, being easily excited when you compliment him, even if it's for the smallest things.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who begins to feel how his pure love becomes something more twisted the moment he realises more people keep getitng interested in you. He looks so kind when you look at him, but as soon as you turn your head, his gaze becomes much darker, his expression is always serious, his brows slightly furrowed as he tries to keep himself restrained.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who takes advantage of you great "friendship" and starts to try and get rid of your friends. He keeps on interrupting when you meet with your other friends, creating different reasons why he just couldn't wait to meet you, as he truly needed you.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who takes advantage of his sickly aspect to make you worry about him, calling you to ask you for small gestures, making sure that they are small enough to avoid you from refusing him.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who is finally able to ask you out. He made sure to get rid of each and all your friends who could get in the way of your relationships, after all, he is everything you need, right?

NSFW:

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who had already seen you way before both of you met each other in class, his phone filled to the brim with pictures of you. The fact that most of them involve you in embarrasing positions while the rest are of your sleeping face. They definitely have no effect on him, hell no (just ignore the raging bulge he gets from seeing your lips slightly parted, totally normal reaction).

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who put a small chip on your phone while you were sleeping. How was he supposed to keep you safe if he didn't know where you were the whole day? Don't be so dramatic, he was just doing it for your sake :((

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who killed someone in front of you. He was stalking you around town when he saw that strange man grabbing you by your wrist and taking you to the closest dark alley. Before he could think, his hands were already gripping his throat, his face turning blue as his grasp got even stronger. When he finally was sure that man was no longer alive, he turned around, a happy smile on his lips as he waited for your compliments. He was now on his real height, allowing you to notice how he was over one head and a half taller than you, despite that, he made you pet his hair, forcing you to smile as the body of the strange man got colder.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling whose obsession only increases the moment the two of you decide to date. His arms are now always around your waist, his hands always touching you, no matter if you are alone or in front of other people. He just loves hugging you from behind, his dick rubbing against your ass, grinding against you as soon as he saw you do something he didn't like.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who forces his cock inside you, filling you load after load just to prove that you're truly his one and only. He doesn't stop until he sees his seed dripping from your hole, your eyes rolling to your skull with fat tears rolling down your cheeks from the overstimulation.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who keeps blabbering about impregnating you during sex, he doesn't even care about your gender, he WILL impregnate you. He will defy Mother Nature for you, filling you one after the other and not pulling out until the next morning.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who masturbates with your clothes the moment he misses you, he doesn't care if you have been away for barely a few hours, he just misses his sweet darling so much :(( Not his fault that your clothes are filled with your sweet scent...

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who masturbates to your sleeping face while the both of you sleep together. He loves feeling you close to him, all relaxed as your expressions sometimes change to one of pure bliss... He hugs you from behind, beginning to grind against your ass as an attempt to keep himself in check. This of course doesn't work, which forces him to use his own hand to masturbate, slowly getting on top of you so he can get an extremely detailed view of your sleeping face.

[the-travelling-witch]

CUTE THINGS WITH HIM

summary: just some cute things they do in a relationship

pairings: atsumu :: osamu :: suna :: kita :: oikawa :: iwaizumi :: matsukawa:: semi :: akaashi :: kenma :: kuroo :: daichi :: suga :: sakusa :: komori :: futakuchi :: keishin x gn! reader (these characters just started adding themselves, i swear)

warnings: only my undying love for these characters

haikyuu masterlist || tokyo revengers version

Letting you stick your cold feet under his legs (with only minimal complaints) x Miya Atsumu

Atsumu is a whiny complainer at heart, so whenever you creep your frigid feet underneath his thighs while watching a movie, he’s doing exactly that: whine and complain. But he never pushes you away or moves his legs. Instead he drapes the blanket higher over you and tugs it in, his warm palms running up and down your calves caringly. He’s also bought you numerous pairs of fuzzy socks and cosy blankets, worrying aloud about your health and blood flow, especially in winter. Then again, it is a good excuse to pull you in closer and bundle you up in his comfy clothes, so who is he to complain, really?

Offering you his food x Miya Osamu

Osamu takes his food very seriously, still, he offers you the first bite without fail. You’re also his most important critic, always getting to taste test his creations, whether it’s for his shop or just for the two of you. He might roll his eyes playfully when you eye his food after saying you’re not hungry but he’ll still share. After all, seeing the content expression on your face as you chew your (or his) food is one of his favourite things.

Sending you stupid memes x Suna Rintarō

The fact that Suna has a near infinite amount of unflattering candids and other blackmail material of his friends on his phone is something you’re well aware of. So it shouldn’t be surprising either that he is digging up the most cursed reaction pics or posts to send them to you with nothing but ‘u’ following it. But, among all the weird stuff, he sends you cute animals cuddling and tags them with ‘us’. Every time you respond with ‘that could be us but you’re at practice’, his teammates come up to ask what he’s smiling about.

Buying flowers without occasion x Kita Shinsuke

Kita doesn’t believe in letting societally accepted commercial holidays dictate when he buys you flowers or chocolates or takes you out on a date. No, he prefers showing his love for you equally all year round. Oftentimes, that means you coming home to a bouquet of flowers or being told to keep your calendar clear for the weekend. To him, grand shows of affection once a year pale in comparison to a steady stream of adoration. After all, your relationship is built on the small acts of love you share each day.

Taking weird photos with his phone x Oikawa Tōru

There’s no room to argue that Oikawa and you trust each other blindly. Considering the circumstances of his career and the vigour of his adoring fans, you kinda have to. But Oikawa has always been very open and honest with you, even going so far as to outright tell you his phone’s passcode. And you use that knowledge wisely. No, not to go through his texts or social media. Instead you open his camera when he’s not around, taking a myriad of selfies or pictures of random objects near you for him to find later. After a night out with his highschool friends, Tōru might wake up to a pretty set of new wallpapers too.

“Helping” him work out x Iwaizumi Hajime

You’re not sure if you’re really all that helpful as you shuffle around your living room, handing Iwa water or a towel as he powers through his at home workout. Maybe ogling his biceps or the way his tank top clings to the defined pecs and abs underneath is what you contribute to this training session. Well, you’re good at that, anyway. But your time to shine comes as Iwa asks you to hold onto his legs as he does sit-ups, giving you an even better view. All your hard work is rewarded with the kiss he presses to your lips each time he leans up. 

“Is this guy bothering you” x Matsukawa Issei

Whenever you stub your toe on the edge of a drawer or bump your hip into the edge of a table, hissing at the shock and/or pain, Matsukawa is right beside you in seconds. Then, after assessing you’re not actually hurt, he turns towards the offending object with a glare. With his voice lowered by an octave or two, he’ll ask “Is this guy bothering you” before pretending to get ready for a fight with the big bad. It’s corny but you’d lie if you said it didn’t make you laugh.

Shared headphones and playlists x Semi Eita

Music is Semi’s passion, naturally he wants to share that part of his life with you. Not only does he play his own songs for you, he also shares his headphones with you, adding all the songs you like to your shared playlist. You’ve also started making recommendation playlists or playlists with songs that remind you of the other and swap them regularly. Driving with Semi is also the most fun, especially on late summer nights with the windows down, going nowhere in particular.

Understanding each other without words x Kozume Kenma

To outsiders, conversations between Kenma and you might seem a little court or even incomprehensible. He just happens to be the type that lets his actions speak rather than his words, unless he gets really fired up about something. Still, your communication seems to work perfectly - or maybe both of you just share a brain cell. Questions like “Have you seen my…” can just be left hanging like this as you’re already pointing out that his old Nekoma sweatpants are in the wash. But no conversations are clearer than the ones you can hold through eye contact alone. Sometimes rolling your eyes conveys more than a thousand words… or however that saying goes.

Letting you win x Kuroo Tetsurō

Despite his suit and tie career, Kuroo is still a playful guy at heart and he’s carrying that energy into your relationship. He also grew up around Kenma, so making a game out of ordinary stuff is normal to him. That said, even if he challenges you in a board or video game, he’ll let you win on purpose every now and then. Not enough to give himself away, but often enough to see your beaming grin. However, if it’s a physical contest like an arm wrestling match, he will let you win (or rather he won’t let you lose immediately) just to tease you over it. Aw c’mon, he knows you’re stronger than this, sweetheart.

Good morning/ good night texts x Sawamura Daichi

Daichi is a busy guy, often out of the house before you wake up or back in after you go to sleep. Depending on which shift he has to work and how your schedules line up, you might not see much of each other for some time. But that won’t stop him from being the sweetest partner, instead sending you good morning and good night texts as well as updates on his day/night, if he has the time. It’s something that came with the territory of not living together before, but the practice never really retired. Equally, it puts him in a good mood to see you update him on your day as well.

Bragging about you x Sugawara Kōshi

Suga is your number one fan, no doubt about it. Not only is he vocal about that to you but also everybody else, whether you’re there or not. Daichi and Asahi are kind of used to it already, but there is always some new unfortunate soul who gets to experience just how smitten he is with you. He never makes it uncomfortable but weaves his praise for you naturally into a conversation. And if it flusters you, that’s just all the better. Although, lately, the classes he’s teaching have picked up on it and are trying to stall for time by asking questions about you.

Writing notes x Sakusa Kiyoomi

This probably started out as something entirely practical. After moving in together, Sakusa just started labelling stuff, writing grocery shopping lists and sticking them to the fridge, especially on days where he left early for practice. By the time you pointed out he could just text you at any given time, he’d already gotten used to this little habit of his. But his messages had slowly turned from chore-related to reminding you to take care of yourself or informing you he prepped lunch for you to just telling you he loves you. The first time he wrote that last one, he blinked down at the note for a few moments before sticking it to the mug cabinet.

Midnight snack run x Komori Motoya

Obviously, Komori wishes his job wouldn’t pull him away from you as often as it does. Though that being said, it also makes coming home after an away game all that sweeter and he feels like the constant change of pace makes him cherish the moments you do get to spend together more than he already does. And he appreciates that you can indulge him, both in his lifestyle and whenever he gets a sudden burst of energy. So yeah, now you’re bundled up in one of his hoodies as you go on a late night snack run, your hand in his as you walk along the calm streets.

Remembering little things about you x Futakuchi Kenji

Futakuchi comes pre-installed with an attitude, no matter who you are to him, it’s his factory setting. And while he’s a lot softer on you as his partner, he’ll still give you a sarcastic quip or poke some fun at you when you complain about something to him. But he always listens carefully and commits it to memory. You offhandedly mentioned you’re running out of something? He adds it to his shopping list. You rant to him about a coworker who’s giving you trouble? Oh, he remembers everything you told him about that guy before (and he’s ready to drag him to hell and back if it makes you feel better). Whenever your birthday or an anniversary rolls around, he never has trouble picking out a gift for you; Kenji could list so many things you’re into or that you could have use for in your everyday life, it’s not even a challenge.

Getting into your hobbies x Ukai Keishin

Keishin has got to be one of the most supportive partners ever. Whatever you set your mind to or whichever hobby you dive into, he’s there to root for you. But he doesn’t stop there; he reads up on your interests, so he can actively participate in the conversation when you talk about them. Similarly, he also adapts to your lifestyle and tries to show up for you in all walks of life. You, on the other hand, also get involved in his life too; his parents were keen to meet you, considering they hounded Keishin to get married in his 20s already. He’d also be over the moon if you showed interest in his work as a coach and met the Karasuno Volleyball Club.

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haikyuu!!: @mccnstruck

[majestyeverlasting]

the moments in between

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader 

Summary: When Joel and Ellie arrive at the Jackson commune, his strong frame and intense gaze captivate you. But as the days pass, you lose hope that he might be drawn to you as well. That is, until the walls come crashing down and the truth finally reveals itself.

Word Count: 7.3k [slow burn]

A/N: I put a lot of love and time into this one. It's my longest fic so far but it didn't feel hard, which I like to believe is a good thing. Hope it resonates, hope you feel the feels and the yearning between these two—let me know! Hope you're well.

A breeze follows Tommy as he saunters in through the doors of the Tipsy Bison, the soft click of his boot heels echoing off the wood with each easy step. The cowboy hat on his head casts a shadow over his eyes until he takes it off, his dark hair cascading down over his ears. There’s a small smile playing on his lips that makes you narrow your eyes.

Cleaning the bartop suddenly loses its appeal, but you don’t stop, only slow down. The fresh, tangy scent of lemongrass continues to waft up from the motion.     

“We close early on Sunday’s, officer,” you tease as he climbs onto a stool. 

He frowns as he sets his hat aside. “I don’t look like a cop, do I?” You shrug, and he chuckles as his gaze roves over to the pool room. “Nate back there? Yo, Nate!” 

“Evening, Tom,” the older man calls back as he polishes a cue ball. 

“Joel’s made it into town.” There’s no overt emotion in the way he shares the news, but you can see that it’s all in his eyes as he waits for you to react.  

“Joel, Joel? As in your brother?” He nods, still in disbelief himself. “Oh my gosh, that’s amazing, Tommy—right? What the heck.” He used to talk about him all the time. 

His exhale makes way for a shaky smile, “I know. Made it in not too long ago with a young girl he’s looking after,” he tells you, voice thick with a mix of emotions. “He’s outside. Wanted to come in and see if you’d let us grab a drink.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Know it’s late. Promise I’ll make up for the trouble.” He knows it’s no trouble. Not when it comes to him. 

He turns around, barstool squeaking, and waves Joel in through the window. 

You move to start working on their whiskies. “Make it up by letting me be the baby’s godmother?” The glasses clink as you set them onto the bar and begin pouring the caramel colored liquid, smirking when you meet his gaze.

Tommy isn’t completely opposed to the idea. You’d been in Jackson since the beginning, a friend to him and Maria in every sense of the word. Arguably family. “If you can manage not to tick me off until the little one gets here.” Despite his words, his eyes are fond. 

The door creaks open, and Joel strides in, scanning the room. There are pictures on the walls of American icons and landmarks, and old Polaroids of commune members. There’s a guarded confidence to the way he walks, an intensity. 

Tommy quickly leans in and whispers, “He means well. It’s been a long day.” 

Joel takes a seat beside his brother and acknowledges you with a curt nod, tugging on the collar of his shirt.  

“Welcome to Jackson,” you greet, introducing yourself afterwards.

“Joel,” he says, taking you in with a steady gaze. 

“Tommy’s told me a lot about you.” You push their glasses closer to them in an encouragement to start drinking.

Joel takes his first sip and fights back a reflexive grimace. It’s been a while, but it's good. Good enough to make him feel pleasantly warm as it glides down. Tommy drinks off his brother’s lead, and you realize just how alike they look. Joel’s hair is a little shorter and accented with streaks of gray, but they both have those same dark, telling eyes. 

They fall into light conversation, but it’s clearly not what they'd talk about if they were alone. That’s when you sense the distance. The slight edge to the space between them. It’s why Tommy resorts to drawing you in, the two of you ripping off each other as Joel listens, fine with not having to speak until this whole little ordeal was winding to an end. However, he does sit up a little straighter whenever you laugh. You pour them more whiskey when their glasses get empty.     

Eventually, the remaining light outside fades away. Tommy hisses at the sight, standing. “I gotta get home to Maria,” he says, stretching his back. Joel moves to get up too, until, “At least finish off this glass, man. You’ve earned it.” Tommy squeezes his brother’s shoulder. He means it genuinely, at least. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, Joel. Thanks again for this,” he tells you. 

“Bye, sheriff,” you call after him. Tommy scoffs.  

Joel realizes just how quiet it is when you move aside to tinker with a bison trinket sitting on the counter, unsure of what to say with Tommy gone. He knows you can see him looking at you. “So, are you here by yourself?” he finally asks. 

A playful smile tugs at your lips. “That’s not a creepy question at all,” you tease, quickly gathering that he doesn’t find the implication funny. “Uncle Nate?” you call. 

“Busy!”  

You raise your brows at Joel. “Not alone.”

Nate was chosen family. The man taught you everything you know about shooting, fishing, and survival even though you gave him a hard time for it when you were younger. He was also the founder of the Tipsy Bison. He only came into the bar on the weekends when he wasn't on patrol. His time in the military all those years ago made it hard to step away from a life of service. 

“We were cleaning when Tommy came in,” you tell Joel. He takes in that information wordlessly. 

“You aren’t much for talking, are you?” Joel takes a sip from his glass. “Nothing wrong with that. Must mean you don’t miss much. Really observant.” When he doesn’t respond, you smile shyly, realizing he probably just wanted to relax after a long day. “Guess I won’t stand here and talk your ears off.” 

The floor creaks as you disappear into the recreation room with Nate, rounding the corner. Joel exhales, shoulders dropping from being drawn up. He almost misses your company. 

Nate sits hunched over a word search puzzle, using the pool table as if it's a normal desk. He doesn’t look up at you, even when you give an affectionate tug to his curly gray ponytail. It was something you’d been doing since the days you both were out on your own and had to stay quiet all the time. Back when there was no safety, no security, no commune. 

“Ouch,” he drones, unphased. 

“Are you gonna come out and meet Tommy's brother?” you ask, low so Joel can’t hear. “I feel like you guys have a lot in common: brooding and grumpy.” Pride flutters in your chest when the man’s lips twitch. 

“I’ll meet him… eventually. Gotta finish this puzzle.” You realize there’s a small hourglasses going, the sand swiftly filling the bottom portion. “There ya are—serendipity.” He circles the letters. 

Word searches were something he recently started doing. When you have a past as extensive as his, it’s always chasing after you in one way or another. Especially in those quiet moments that sneak up on you. He claimed that seeking out words from amid an ordered chaos keeps the racing thoughts at bay whenever they come rushing in. 

Joel is finished by the time you join him again, and you realize he’d waited instead of calling out. Already standing, ready to go. 

“Anything else I can get you?” 

He shakes his head. “I appreciate your hospitality.” 

Joel turns to leave but you keep talking, “So I reckon Tommy already squared you away with a house and a tour of the town?” 

He stops. “I’m across the street from him. Gettin’ the tour tomorrow.”  

“That’s great, I’m really glad you found us.” You sound so genuine that there’s a flutter in his gut. “We’re a pretty crazy bunch, but I think you’re gonna like it here.” 

“Hope so.” Those are the words he leaves you with.

Your eyes stay trained on his back as he makes his way towards the door, stride the same as when he first arrived. Perhaps a little looser. Before he exits the bar, his eyes catch a glimpse of one of the decorative license plates secured to the wall: Austin, Texas. 

Shortly after he makes it outside, his heart rate ticks up in that impending way he wishes wasn’t so familiar, breath catching in his throat as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. There’s no escaping the panic as it sets in, surging through him. A few staggering steps allow him to brace a hand on a wooden directory board. 

You see it all from inside. At first, you think he’s trying to read the sign, but then he hunches over more and grips his chest. Without thinking, you jog towards the doors. 

“Joel?” You call once you’ve broken outside. 

It’s a cool spring night, a crescent moon shares its pale glow from above. Most of Jackson is already tucked away inside or at least halfway there. But in this sliver of time, it feels like it’s just the two of you outside. Joel doesn’t let on that he’d heard you, but the moment you’re close enough, you recognize what’s going on. You press your palm to his back to let him know you’re there. That he’s still here. 

“Concentrate on your breathing. In and out, just like that,” you encourage, settling on rubbing his back in measured passes. Then you go quiet on the off chance he needs that. 

In your newfound silence, Joel is forced to focus on the shaky breaths rising from his lungs. That’s when he accepts he’s not in control. Not in the grand scheme of things. There’s a whole big fallen world just outside the gates of this haven. A world that had taken people he loved and was cruel enough to let him be the one who lived to tell the tale. The heat that rises to his cheeks is made up of frustration more than distress, crackling like pop. Like coals. 

The ground takes on a vignette as he stares at it, his vision briefly closes in. You never withdraw your touch. 

When his breaths eventually begin to steady, you remember how to breathe yourself. With a tired exhale, he straightens back up to his full height, and you take a few small steps away. Maybe this wasn’t new, but a fact of life for the man who’d rode into Jackson in an air of mystery and a young girl by his side. Maybe he never wanted you to get a glimpse at this side of him. If he feels that way, he doesn’t make it obvious. He almost looks appreciative that you’d bothered enough to care. 

“Sorry to scare you,” he rasps, not meeting your gaze even though he can feel it. You want to tell him that there isn’t much that scares you anymore. At least that’s what you like to believe. “I’m usually alone.” 

Except, tonight, he wasn’t. And maybe that wasn’t such a terrible thing. 

•••

Howdy Stranger

This is Jackson Hole

The last of the Old West 

Joel reads the painted wooden sign as Tommy and Maria show him and Ellie around. There are people everywhere. Children playing outside, adults fluttering in and out of shops. All while the Teton mountains loom and watch over it all with their snow-capped peaks. He looks over at the girl when she nudges his arm, pointing to a Calico lounging on a porch. Despite her beaming smile, all he offers is a low hum. 

It was hard to be in the now when his thoughts were split between the past and future. Up until Jackson, there was no such thing as stability, and he couldn’t help but think about the day that the rug would be pulled from beneath the commune as well. Ellie’s smile fades when she notices the harsh squint of his face. He kicks himself for it.   

“Cat hater,” she mumbles under her breath.

Joel grunts and directs his attention back to his brother. 

When the tour comes to an inevitable end, Ellie sings Jackson’s praises after Tommy and Maria go their separate ways with a promise to reconnect later that day. He lets her talk as they make their way back to their new house, idly agreeing every once in a while. A few curious eyes fall on them as they walk, but Joel doesn’t pay them any mind. 

“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Ellie stops walking to give him a flat look. 

“I hear you,” he insists. “Been hearing you for the past ten minutes.”

There’s no snark in his tone, but Ellie still feels the slight sting of offense. “Well, sorry for being excited about having a nice place to live for once. It’s not like I was born into hell or anything—I mean the Boston QZ.” Sarcasm drips from her voice as she starts walking again, faster so it looks like they’re not together.

Joel swallows down guilt like it’s just another pill. His legs are long, so it doesn’t take much to catch back up with her.

“Hey…Kid…Ellie.” She keeps ignoring him. “This is new for me too, okay? Everybody’s got a different way of processing, can we agree on that?” It’s a fair enough proposal. He never had been forward when it came to sharing his thoughts. “Wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she murmurs, deciding to take a break from her rambling for his sake. The mutual silence isn’t so bad. 

Someone he isn’t expecting to see is you. You’re wearing a backpack and ushering a line of young kids into the community center. One of the little girls stops and stretches her arms up towards you, earning a playful eyeroll before being lifted onto your hip. Joel doesn’t miss the way the afternoon sunlight catches your face. 

•••

The next day, a faint thump against the door startles Ellie as she sketches in the dining room. Rather than getting up from the table, she remains still, pencil in hand and brows furrowed. Upstairs, the spray of the shower continues as Joel lets it drown out everything else. Three light knocks eventually sound, and she musters up the courage to scurry to the front. 

She peeks out the window first, spotting you. Someone she hadn’t seen around. An amused smile pulls at her lips at the way you’ve seemingly wrestled the big basket you’re holding into a better grip than before. 

When she opens the door, you let out a relieved sigh. “Special delivery,” you say before introducing yourself. 

“That’s a really pretty name,” she compliments, already warming up to you. “I’m Ellie—is all that stuff for us?” When you nod, she excitedly steps aside and ushers you in. 

“I’m not gonna say you shouldn’t have because that’d be a lie,” she shamelessly admits. “You can put it right over here.” You follow her into the living room and place the welcome basket on the coffee table. 

A few of the ladies you volunteer with helped you put it together after your shift counseling for the spring break camp. There were cookies, seeds, natural soaps, feminine hygiene products, and even a knit blanket that looked particularly soft and cozy. Ellie wastes no time reaching out to run her fingers over it. A laugh bubbles up your throat when her jaw drops. 

“This is literally what clouds feel like.” She haphazardly pulls the blanket out the basket, wrapping it around herself like a cape. “If Joel says anything, this was specifically included for me.” 

“I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to share if he asked nicely,” you reason, amused. Ellie’s nose wrinkles. “But to be fair, we did think you’d be the one to really appreciate it.”

She smiles at being considered. “Who made it? This is, like, next level.” 

“A woman named Emilia,” you tell her. “She actually made me one back when Jackson was first being built up that I still have,” you tell her, taking a seat on the couch and looking around. The evening sunlight pours in through the windows, casting golden streaks onto the floors. “Now she’s always got a few on standby.” 

Ellie sits beside you, reaching out to dig through the other contents in awe. “They told us the commune's only, like, seven years old on our tour yesterday,” she recounts. Think you’ll have your blanket forever?” 

“Forever’s an awful long time. It might hold up,” you think aloud. Ellie nods, contemplative. “I can take you by to meet her sometime, if you’d like. She’s the resident seamstress, so you’ll probably end up crossing paths anyways.” 

“What about you? What do you do?” she asks, giving you her full attention. 

“I mainly help coordinate community events. Been stepping in to assist with the youth spring break camp for the last couple days, though,” you say. “Also bartend on the nights that I feel like it. Just for fun, you know?” 

Ellie's face lights up. “I’ve had whiskey before.” She puffs out her chest when she says it, and you play into her pride by raising an impressed brow. The first and last time you had a sip was when you snuck it from Nate as a teen. “But that’s really cool, though. The community stuff and all that.” You can tell by her tone that she means it. In more ways than one, you’re reminded of your younger self. 

“Joel’s gonna join the patrol. He says I’m too young, but that’s just bullshit.” She says the last part lower as if he’s somewhere listening. “I’ll figure out a way to make him cave.” There’s an air of confidence to her voice that suggests she’s done it before. The thought warms a tiny portion of your chest.

“I’ve gone out with my uncle Nate a few times. It can be a lot,” you admit. “He just wants you safe, Nate’s the same way.” 

As Joel stops at the top of the staircase, freshly showered, he catches those last words. He’d know your voice even if it’d been forever. His footsteps are quiet as he descends the stairs, but you hear him coming nevertheless. Ellie’s too busy sniffing the pine soap as you straighten up and glance his way. Joel’s eyes are as observant as you remember when they land on you, seeing into you, it seems. His damp hair is combed back in a way that makes him look more distinguished. 

“There you are.” You stand up with a smile. You’d been wondering how he was doing since the panic attack.

He wishes your warmth wasn't so compelling.  

Ellie whips around to look at him. “I know you said not to open the door to strangers—which is practically everybody at this point—but she’s really nice and brought us gifts so you can’t be mad at me,” she rushes out. He clocks the blanket around her shoulders. 

He hmphs. “That’s how they get you.” He’s not being serious, but Ellie frowns, trying to read through his eternal poker face. “Treats and a friendly smile.” Your lips twitch in amusement as Ellie narrows her eyes. 

When Joel starts walking your way, she consoles herself with the fact that he would've already asked you to leave if he sensed your intentions were off. The commune wasn’t filled with questionable people like that anyways. The two of them didn’t have to be apprehensive of every soul they came across anymore. 

He’s close enough now that you can smell the cedar soap on his skin. “I’m not a stranger,” you lightly defend. “Not entirely.” You look from Ellie to Joel. 

A wall rises in real time, shutting you out right along with the night you met. It happens in his eyes just like everything does. He hadn’t mentioned you to her, and it was your mistake for believing he would’ve at least passed on a name. 

You swallow back a small lump in your throat that may not be entirely just. “Anyways, hopefully you guys will be able to put this stuff to use.” 

“Of course we will,” Ellie pipes up. “Are you leaving already?” She hadn’t missed the finality that had crept into your tone. 

You nod. “Don’t wanna take up too much of your evening. I actually meant to come by sooner.” 

“Well, are you going to the dining hall for dinner?” Her gaze flicks to Joel. “Maybe you can come with us.” 

Joel knows he’s in trouble when he hears the fondness in Ellie’s voice. It’s the same sentiment he was straining to tamper down within himself. Every time he opened his mouth or looked at you, it tried to claw its way to the forefront. The last thing he needed was another person getting close enough to see that he was a million tiny pieces being held together by the glue of whatever god was keeping him alive. 

You decline her invitation, expressing plans to go to your uncle’s place. But you give her a rain check. When you go to leave, Joel allows his eyes to flitter down the rest of your body. 

That wouldn’t be the last he saw of you. But it was always from afar, lingering on the outskirts. Wishing there was a seamless way he could fall into your orbit without sending everything spiraling out of control. 

You were always looking right back at him with hope in your eyes, holding space. Waiting for your world to be shaken. 

•••

Laughter, chatter, and music drown out the insects that usually take precedence at night. Weeks of planning had finally come into fruition. All of Main Street is lined with fairy lights that cast their warm glow down on the summer festival. There was no shortage of entertainment, games, and food. It was a time to let loose and relish the sweetness in the air along with that of life. 

Nate plays his harmonica for a group of children around the bonfire, all clapping and stomping along. A smile graces your face as you walk by, waving at him. The fullness of your heart almost overrides the ache that has settled in the arches of your feet. You’d barely sitten down since earlier that morning when preparation began. There was a sense of responsibility that came along with the orange vest you were dawned in. The pressure to assist, and guide, and answer questions wasn’t all on you, but the other volunteers were better at taking breaks. 

Tommy’s grainy voice breaks into the air through a megaphone, “Thirteen-and-up three-legged races starting in five minutes, this is your last call. Grab a partner and make your way over to the east lawn,” he says. “Again, this is the last call.”

Joel and Ellie already happen to be seated at a picnic table that gives them a perfect view of the race setup and Tommy facilitating in an orange vest of his own. Ellie had already worked through her first honey cake and was eyeing Joel’s. He pretends not to notice until she looks up at him all wide-eyed.  

“Can I—” he slides his plate over to her. “Thanks.” 

“Your eyes are bigger than your stomach,” he lightly accuses, shaking his head. 

“What does that even mean?” She takes a bite. “Weirdo.” 

Joel just grumbles and tosses a napkin her way. She wipes her mouth and keeps staring at him. Not because she’s waiting for an answer, but because there’s amusement sparkling in his eyes. Which happens more often now that they’d had a couple months to settle into Jackson. A laugh was coming, she could feel it. 

“Quit gawking at me and eat.” There’s a tell-tale waver in his voice. 

“No.” Ellie lightly kicks his shin beneath the table and that’s what sets him off. 

He tries to bite back a chuckle, but he gives in when it doesn’t work out, shoulders shaking. Ellie starts grinning at him from across the table, and he kicks her back with the tip of his boot. 

“Hey!” She breaks into giggles and retaliates. He lets her have the little victory. 

A small smile lingers on his face when he regains his composure. They sit in a comfortable silence as Ellie finishes the rest of her dessert, taking in the festivities around them. 

It isn’t long before a girl with dark hair approaches their table. She’s a ball of masked nerves. “Hi,” she greets. “Ellie, right?” She says it as if it’s possible for her to have forgotten. As if after they sat together at last week’s movie night, she hadn’t been thinking about her since. 

Ellie get’s uncharacteristically squirmy. “Oh. Hey, Dina.” 

Joel can’t believe it.

Dina tucks a flyaway behind her ear. “My old partner bailed, so I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna do the three-legged race with me. I think we’d make a better team anyways.” Then she glances at Joel. “If you wouldn’t mind me stealing her away for a bit.” 

“Take her,” Joel quips, making Dina laugh. 

Warmth rushes to Ellie’s cheeks as she stands. “Sure, let’s go.” 

The two of them jog over to get prepped for the race. Joel watches the whole while, warmth kindling in his chest at the fact that she was slowly finding her tribe. The race doesn’t start for another couple minutes, and when it does, Ellie and Dina burst off into first. It’s intense. The whole ordeal is a mess of laughter, stumbling, and flailing limbs. In the end, the duo end up placing second, crossing the finish line only to fall into a heap of giggles with their legs tied together. 

Joel stands from the picnic table with a grunt to throw away all the empty plates. He has every intention to sit back down, but notices a few frazzled volunteers carrying mops and towels. Then his eyes rove over to the long line standing at the drink stands. Adults check their watches, children fidget. A woman in an orange vest is talking to another woman managing the stand. He doesn’t realize is you until you turn away from her and beeline towards the community center, looking stressed. 

“Hey,” he calls out to a stout man wearing an apron. “Do you know what’s going on?” 

He’s surprised Joel caught on. Everyone else was carrying on as usual, carefree and unaware. “There was a spill at the community center. You know Mr. Robertson’s special Summer Fest punch?” he asks in a thick Brooklyn accent, Joel nods because he’d heard the rave. Apparently it was made especially for the festival. “Kitchen’s flooded with it. I didn’t have time to build an ark,” he jokes.  

Joel wrestles with himself. “I’ll go see if I can help.” 

By the time you exit the community center, gaze fixed over your shoulder, you crash into Joel. He instinctively reaches out to steady you, touch firm but gentle. “Whoa, easy there.” The low timbre of his drawl is enough to draw your mind away from all the noise. “You alright? Here, let’s get out of the way.” You let him pull you aside by your elbow. 

When you look into his eyes, there’s so many things you wish it was the appropriate time to say. It’s been cordial between the two of you, but it always seemed like he was in a constant state of backing away, like an animal scared of giving into a primal craving.  

There was always a reason why he couldn’t stay in your presence longer than he did. He had to get back to Ellie, or turn in early for his patrol shift the next day, or some other excuse. Even during the game nights you hosted, he would always leave before his belly was full and the real fun was about to begin. When everyone was finally free of the day’s worries and truly ready to talk, laugh, and let everything ride on the toss of a dice. 

He’d resigned himself to enjoying you in the little here and there, the moments in between. So much so that even Ellie had begun to notice. It was in the way he never allowed himself to lean in too close whenever you were at his side. Or never fully crawled out of his shell no matter how many times you smiled sweetly or let your fingertips brush his forearm. 

“Does anything hurt?” He asks more intently. As he scans you over, he notices your clothes. The lower portion of your vest and the thighs of your flared jeans are stained with a wet, dark substance. 

“I’m fine, Joel.” You pull away from him with more force than necessary, feeling guilty for the way he swallows and takes a step back. “Sorry.” You release a heavy exhale, tears welling in your eyes with a dull sting. “I’m ruining everyone’s night.” 

Joel frowns. “No you’re not. Tell me what happened.” 

“I was trying to transfer the extra beverage dispenser onto the wagon so I could wheel it out to the drink stand, but it slipped out of my grip,” you explain. “The lid came off and the punch spilled everywhere.” You wipe your tears away quickly, as if they’ll stain too. 

“Accidents happen,” Joel’s tone is steady like scripture, tenderness peeking through just enough to cling onto. “Everybody’s fine. The world's still turning.”

Nobody had reacted in an extreme manner. There were gasps and startled jumps, but assurances came rushing in as the janitorial volunteers insisted that they’d get everything cleaned up. Everyone in that kitchen knew that there were worse things in life than spilled juice. Sure, it was upsetting, considering the time Mr. Robertson spent and the people looking forward to drinking more, but it was a small mistake in the grand scheme of things. But when your heart is already heavy and your mind is tangled with other concerns, those little mishaps feel like the most devastating ones. 

There was a directness about Joel, though, that eased away the guilt crawling beneath your skin. It was like he understood what screwing up truly was and this was many light years from it. 

Dina spots Joel in the distance and points him out to Ellie. “There he is over there.” 

Their smiles fall from their faces when they get closer and realize you’re crying. “Holy shit, what happened?” Ellie looks between you and Joel, worry etched onto her face. 

“I just made a stupid mistake.” You sniffle, trying to regain your composure, not wanting to worry them.  There was always something unavoidably daunting about seeing adults cry. 

“You girls stay here with her for a second. I’ll be right back,” Joel instructs. 

A new song starts up by the live band that’s playing. It’s an instrumental rendition of Every Breath You Take. A decent crowd has gathered, nibbling on sourdough and nodding to the melody. Some people are wrapped in each other’s arms. Joel soaks it all in as he navigates back to the racing lawn. 

Tommy claps him on the back when he makes it and Joel returns the gesture. “You enjoying yourself, man?” Tommy asks. 

“Yeah,” he says distractedly. “There was a spill at the community center, so no more punch. You think you can get everybody on the same page?” 

“Copy that.” 

Tommy’s voice carries through the megaphone as Joel makes his way back to you, the announcement fading with each step. 

“Howdy, folks. Some of you may have already heard, but in case you haven’t, there’s been a little spill and we are unfortunately all out of Mr. Robertson’s world famous punch for the night. We apologize if you didn’t get the chance to try it, but I promise we’ll figure out a way to make it up to y'all. In the meantime, I heard the lemonade and ice tea ain’t half bad.” 

His words blur into the background as Joel makes it back to you. There are a few disappointed groans, but nobody is completely devastated by the news. They keep carrying on just as he knew they would. 

Tears no longer streak your face when Joel makes it back, Ellie and Dina seeming to have lifted your spirits a little more. 

“Do you wanna go get cleaned up?” Joel suggests. 

Now that you’re thinking about it, the feeling of your clothes sticking to your skin is beginning to grow uncomfortable. You take a deep breath at the thought of walking home, away from Summer Fest, all the energy, all the fun. Joel sees the disappointment on your face. 

“I can go with you,” he offers.

•••

The walk to your house is quiet, the sounds of the night's festivities now distant. The porch steps creak gently under your weight as the two of you ascend them. Joel watches as you unlock the door, but finds himself cemented as you step inside. Confusion, appreciation, frustration, and want are all amalgamated into one look directed right his way. Without saying a word, you head further inside, leaving the door open. 

Joel’s hands twitch at his sides like he’s a live wire wrought with energy. Bugs would fly in if he didn’t do something—that’s the justification he creates. You’re halfway to the laundry room when you hear the front door shut behind him as he follows after you. 

The living room is illuminated by dim lamplight as he walks through. A quick glance into the kitchen gives him sight of one of Ellie’s more recent drawings stuck to the refrigerator door with a smiley face magnet. It's a portrait of your face that you agreed to sit for one lazy afternoon while Joel was away on patrol. 

The air smells like you. Understated and sweet, floral and earthen. Small plants line multiple windowsills despite how convinced you were that you couldn’t keep anything alive. The whole commune would be worse off without you and he’d be the first to wilter away. 

At the sound of a zipper and clothes brushing against skin, he stops his pursuit of you. Miles away even though you’re mere yards apart. All he has is your shadow, dancing in the dim light pooling out of the laundry room and into the hall with him. He backs himself into the cool wall and closes his eyes, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Up and down and up again. An SOS in the middle of a sea when salvation was right within reach. It gets quiet after a while. No more running water, or cabinet doors, or shuffling around. 

“You can let me in, you know?” comes your voice, so light it’s almost nothing. Joel releases a shaky breath and opens his eyes to the sight of you, dawned in old shorts and a graphic tee. You wish he would say something, anything. Share a fraction of what’s going on in his mind. “I’m right here, Joel.” 

“I know. I see you.” There’s a defensive edge to his voice that’s wounded around the edges, as if he’s trying to accommodate the truth that burns within his ribcage, his stomach, beneath the entirety of his skin. 

“So now what?” You swallow your nerves, studying his face, his neck. “We’re just gonna keep seeing each other for the rest of our lives and that’s it? No knowing, no feeling, no experiencing?” You ask. “No loving?”  

One by one, the walls close in, until it feels like you’re standing toe to toe with nothing but words as weapons and honesty being the only way out. It’s not a fight he’s ready for. He can trek through the harshest winters, fight off monsters and all manner of men, but he’s defenseless in front of you.

There will be no victory, no rising from battle with a bloodied fist or blade, or immediate relief akin to the coming of spring. The only way out is to dig within, and he already knew what resided there. It was a matter of carving it out and laying it on an altar for you to see as you did the same. It’s not a fight at all, it's a sacrifice. All risk with probable reward. 

“I don’t want that to be all that we do.” You’ve never heard Joel speak so quietly. It’s as if there’s Infected lurking nearby and he doesn’t want to be devoured. “Think about you too much.” 

“I was starting to think you didn’t like me at all. Not like how I like you,” you say. 

Joel swallows thickly, warm all over. “How do you like me?” 

You push out of the laundry room doorway to step closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, the beating of his heart. You let it thrum against your palm until a shallow breath slips past his lips, then you move to cup his stubbled jaw, lightly brushing your thumb over his lower lip. The urge to touch you back grows so great that he finally gives in and lets both of his strong hands settle on your waist.  

Joel can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he leans in towards you, studying your face, searching for any sign that this might be some elaborate ruse. Instead, he finds something so poignant that he doesn’t have the words to define. It’s as terrifying as it is wonderful to, for once, be unable to size up what he’s up against. 

You close the space in between you with a softness that takes his breath away. Bared heart meeting bared heart. Joel’s lips are gentle and unhurried, every second savored and not a single one missed. You try to focus but it feels like you’re falling and flying all at once. Then his fingers dig into your waist a little harder, a silent plea to stay there with him, the warmth of his kiss, the firmness of his body as he pulls you closer. 

Your hands find their way to the back of his neck to play with the hair curled at his nape. The kiss deepens not in urgency but a shared understanding. A promise sealed in the way your bodies fit together. And then, slowly, deliberately, Joel eases back, lips lingering on yours for a heartbeat longer until there’s a slight space in between again. Your breaths mingle as he rests his forehead against yours, thumb stroking tender circles on your waist. 

When you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, wondering if you can feel that two worlds having converged into one, buzzing with a newness that’s as beautiful as all the words you’d kept bottled inside. 

•••

It hadn’t taken much. Just a hug and a few soft kisses pressed to the underside of his jaw. When Joel’s grumbling finally subsided, it made way for the soothing ripple of the river. You’d settled along the bank and stretched out a few blankets when you first arrived. An hour seemed to pass in the matter of a few seconds, laughter, conversations and all. Now the sun creeps closer and closer to the horizon up in the ombre sky. 

It wasn’t any fault of your own that you’d asked Joel if the date could extend a little longer. It’d been a month of getting to see him in this light, open and unguarded, generous with giving those slow, easy smiles. Willing to lay down across your lap like this when you asked sweetly enough. 

The small mouth of a fish breaks the surface of the water as you trace along his hairline, disappearing by the time you run the pad of your finger down his nose. His lips twitch as he continues to ward off sleep. This time, there’s no stopping a soft laugh from rising up your throat. That’s all it takes for his eyes to flutter open, blinking until they’re able to focus on the soft upturn of your lips. No sooner do they avert to the sky, assessing the fleeting light. 

“We gotta head back now,” his voice is gruff. When he moves to sit up, you place a delicate hand on the center of his chest and he settles back down with a sigh. “C’mon, sweetheart, the sun’s setting. I don’t want you out here in the dark.” 

Packing up and riding back to the commune meant this moment would be resigned to a memory. “A few more minutes won’t hurt,” you insist. 

Before Jackson and before you, every second was about enduring to the next. Life was an endless onwards, onwards, onwards reverberating through his veins. Slowing down was always a risk until you showed him that sometimes life’s most worthwhile moments were in the stillness. Somedays that was easier to remember than others, but he sure did put in an effort. 

“I think you’re enjoying this more than I am anyways,” you tease. The corners of his lips quirk upwards before he can stop them. 

You continue on like that, tracing his face, occasionally glancing up at the snow-capped peaks of the mountains. Then an animal catches your attention across the way, lean and tall with short antlers protruding from its head. You suck in a breath of pleasant surprise, and Joel startles upright thinking the worst. His shoulders relax when he sees the creature. It bends its neck down to nibble at something in the grass until deciding to gallop away. 

“Just a mule deer.” He gives you a look. 

“I know, sorry. I get excited.” You offer an apologetic smile and he's reminded of how beautiful you look in the light of the setting sun, features aglow. He doesn’t say anything, just soaks you in here and now. An airiness fills your chest. 

He stands with a groan, extending a helping hand back down to you. When you’re steady on your feet, he takes your chin in one gentle hand and tilts your head back so he can align his lips with yours. The kiss is brief, and he follows it up with a soft peck.  

“Will you let me take you back home now?” he questions. “Ellie’s gonna have our heads if we’re late for game night. Especially when she’s choosing the line up.” 

•••

No heads roll that night. Plenty of dice do, while Uno cards are slapped onto the coffee table, and Jenga blocks fall. Tommy, Maria, Dina, and your uncle Nate, eventually file out of Joel’s house, leaving the three of you alone. Ellie feigns sleep on the couch as soon as it’s time for cleanup, and dozes off for real as you and Joel start taking care of everything yourselves. 

He steps up behind you as you’re standing at the kitchen sink, snaking his arms around your middle. A curious hum rises up your throat as you lean back into him. 

“I think somebody cheated during Jenga tonight,” he hushes against the shell of your ear, relishing the way you shiver at the warmth of his breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  

Joel noses at the back of your head. “So you weren’t the one touchin’ me during that last round?” he asks. “Scratching my back, squeezing my thigh.” 

“It was innocent,” you insist. “It's a stressful game, I was just trying to ease your nerves. How was I supposed to know your hands would get all shaky?” 

A sudden chuckle shakes his chest, sending a ripple of warmth through you. “Ease my nerves? We weren’t even on the same team.” His fingers squeeze your hips in quick, gentle pulses, making you arch into him in a spell of helpless giggles. Joel evades your attempts to grab his wrists, but shows you mercy when you turn around, looking up at him through your lashes like you could do no wrong. 

“You’re lucky I happen to like you an awful lot.” He places both hands on the counter behind you, effectively caging you in. 

You smooth your hands up his chest, admiring the soft lines by his eyes, the handsome bump of his nose. “I know. I’m the luckiest person alive.” 

“No, that’s me,” Joel whispers. 

He’s certain of it. 

- 

Thank you so much for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts, it’s my favorite thing.