#i had to look my mom in the eyes recently and say 'mother you know better. i Know you know better. i will not mend clothing like this for u

[dalishbarmitzvah]

here's what you can do, right now:

start Learning. research what has been hidden from you. and the next time someone tells you they simply must buy garbage clothing, tell them they're fucking Wrong

clothes should not be cheap and you have to get over that! clothing used to be one of the number one if not The number one expense people had!! normalize that energy again!!!

sidenote that podcast episode is, like. Fine. but maybe look at some people who entirely focus on clothing or textiles or whatever and maybe don't make brooklynites who think buying a brand new aran sweater directly from ireland every two years is a reasonable and thrifty thing to do and are not specialists, like. your only authority on this issue. bc they have some ok points but it's for sure, like. Baby's First Real Conversation about the "modern clothing sucks" problem. kinda vibe. aran knit sweaters are lifetime items if maintained properly and i cannot imagine one individual needing to own more than three at once Tops

so many articles about Fast Fashion, not enough articles about what the hell is happening to the quality of clothes

Like okay. People own more pieces of clothing nowadays and they wear them a lesser number of times before throwing them out. BUT.

Why do we pretend like this is pure vanity or careless wastefulness, rather than forced by the qualities of the clothes themselves?

The other day, I was going through boxes of old clothes in the basement in search of fabric to practice sewing on. The difference in quality of the fabrics themselves is shocking! The worn-out old jeans from twenty years ago are MUCH thicker and tougher than anything more recent. My old baby clothes are made as sturdy as my work clothes from today.

In the past couple years, I have had entire seams rip out of clothes on the first wash. That's not normal!

Polyester blend shirts that feel cozy and soft when they are new, become scratchy and rough after 20 washes or so. I am trying to avoid polyester, but it gets harder and harder; the other day i couldn't find a single pack of crew socks that was 100% cotton. SOCKS!

Also, pilling is out of control. The newest pants I bought developed pills within a single day of walking around campus with a backpack.

These companies are trying to frog-boil us but touching clothes from twenty years ago, the useless crap of today would stick out like a sore thumb...

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

I really loved your career day fic and I was wondering if you could do a Shut up mom fic with the same lineup with nanami tho if you write for him🥺 👉👈

Shut up, Mom!

Tags: teeth rotting fluff, mostly crack, cursing, jjk men as dads / fem!reader

An: I would be delighted to write this anon :) my requests are open, loves. If you want me to write a specific idea, definitely ask and I’ll try to deliver on it! also, if anyone wants to be on a taglist please let me know. So, I gave Sukuna a kid in this one because I didn’t really see Yuji calling you mom or him dad. Yuji calls you two unc and auntie :)

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA • NANAMI

SATORU

“Aoi, did you take out the trash?” You ask your nine-year-old son while trying not to giggle. Aoi has recently discovered pranks, and he suggested playing one on Satoru. You couldn’t help but think that was an amazing idea.

Your husband was leisurely sitting on the couch, playing a game on the console he and your son shared. He was able to see you from his peripheral vision while you and Aoi were in the dining room. He didn’t seem to be too intrigued by the conversation, but Satoru is a chronic eavesdropper. He can’t help it with his technique and all.

“No, mom. Why can’t you do it?” Aoi plays his role perfectly, even throwing in an annoyed groan at you. Gojo cut his eyes towards you two, but he stayed silent for a moment. He knew this was your battle to face, and he wasn’t usually the disciplinary parent anyways.

“Because I told you to do it, Aoi. It’s your chore.” You say, putting on a serious voice as you would if he had really been sassing off to you.

“Ugh. Shut up, mom!” Aoi yells with a dramatic eye roll.

Immediately, you hear the game console cut off. It seems like you two had garnered Satoru’s attention. Footsteps carry into the dining room, and your all too tall husband leans against the doorframe.

Aoi sees his father, and his eyes widen. Your little actor. He then tries to walk off, but Satoru easily put his hand out against Aoi’s chest, preventing him from going anywhere.

“Woah, woah, woah, there little man. Who do you think you’re talking to there?” He interjects as his hands slowly unwrap his bindings from around his eyes, letting you know that he’s about to get serious.

“She’s getting on my nerves, dad!” Aoi continues to play the role, even though you can tell that he’s scared shitless.

“Hey, look at me.” Satoru says as he bends his knees to be eye level with Aoi. Your son complies with his dad’s order. “I don’t give a shit, okay? Never, and I mean, never tell your mother to shut up unless you intend on fighting me afterwards. She says to take out the trash, you say yes and take out the trash. Do you understand me?” Satoru says as he holds his son’s shoulders, squeezing them a bit so Aoi knows he’s not fooling around.

“Because I don’t think you want to fight me, do you?” Satoru questions. His blue eyes beam in the light, making your son nervously sweat.

“Baby, it’s just a prank.” You quickly interject with a laugh as you gently nudge your husband away from your son.

“Yeah dad, I was just acting!!” Aoi’s nervous gaze flutters into an adorable smile.

Satoru rolls his eyes and playfully laughs along. “You two are too silly, makin’ me turn off my game for this.” He shakes his head as he wraps his eyes back up.

“You were like gonna hollow purple me!” Aoi shouts with an excited laugh, and he reenacts Satoru’s cursed technique.

“Yeah, I love your mom a little too much.” Satoru responds with a grin up towards your direction.

SUGURU

Mimiko and Nanako are coming into their teen years, and recently, they’ve been obsessed with the idea of TikTok. After seeing the “shut up mom” prank all over, they knew that they had to play it on Suguru.

You, of course, agreed to help them pull off their little shenanigan.

“You two are not going out. It’s a school night.” You chide at the twin girls, giving them a small wink as Suguru was enjoying a cup of tea while sitting at the breakfast bar. He was scrolling mindlessly on his phone, reading the news or something like that.

“Mom, please. Everyone’s going.” Nanako pled and even threw in a small pout.

“Yeah, who cares if it’s a school night?” Mimiko chimed in.

“Girls.” Suguru warned as he normally did when you were having to deal with the twins. He didn’t like the idea of the girls ganging up on you.

“I said no. I bet you two didn’t even do your homework yet either.” You carry on, eyeing the two girls as if they were really in trouble.

“Ugh! Mom, shut up!” The girls somehow managed to say in sync. The two had obviously practiced their lines.

The tea glass hit the counter, and Suguru a stood up from his seat on the stool. “Hey. I don’t ever want to hear that kind of language in this house, especially not to your mother. Got that?” He said as he eyed your daughters.

Your husband was a bit of a strict father to the girls. He really just wanted them to turn out good, so he was the main disciplinary figure in the house.

“Dad! She’s-“

“Aht.” He cuts Mimiko off, and starts to walk up to the girls. “I didn’t ask. Apologize to your mother this instant. Then, go upstairs and do your homework. You two are grounded from going out for at least a month.”

“Sugu, it’s a prank.” You say as you can’t hold back a laugh from how angry he got that quickly. “It’s a prank, sweetie.”

Your two girls were nodding quickly, holding their hands out in surrender. “We saw it on TikTok!”

Suguru rolls his eyes at the three of you. “That app is no good for you.” He quietly chides. “Did you two do your homework?”

Mimiko and Nanako exchange nervous glances, and they both run up to their rooms to get it done.

Your husband laughs quietly and shakes his head before sitting back down on his stool. You walk over towards him and card your fingers through his long hair. He lets out a long exhale of contentment while leaning his head into your touch. “What are we gonna do with those two, hm?”

“Love them and try our best to teach them.” You softly respond before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

TOJI

Toji is a pretty laid back dad. He lets you take the lead on a lot of the parenting aspects, since it comes to you more naturally than it does with him. However.. he has his moments.

“Megumi, come help me do the dishes.” You say to your 13-year-old son. He’s in that weird stage of puberty where you’re his best friend one day and his worst enemy the next, which means he sometimes agreed to play pranks with you.

“Busy, mom.” He mumbles at the table as he’s trying to learn the hand signs for one of his shikigami. He was left learning this stuff on his own since Toji wasn’t a sorcerer, and you weren’t apart of the Zenin clan. You had no idea how to do the hand gestures.

“You can do that after you’re done helping me, Gumi.” You say as you turn on the kitchen sink. Your son doesn’t even acknowledge that you said anything.

Toji eyes him from his seat at the dining table, waiting for his son to comply.

“Gumi. Get in here.” You finally say after a minute of him not responding to you.

“Shut up, Mom!” He raises his voice at you, and immediately, Toji is on him quicker than you could respond.

“What did you just say to your mother, brat?” Toji grits as he stares down at his teenage son. Megumi looked back up at him mortified. “I brought you in this world, and I will take your ass out of it if I hear you speak to your mom like that again.”

“Baby, baby, baby, it’s a prank!” You say as you rush over to Toji. Megumi cracks a nervous smile, and you gently nudge Toji back.

“It’s a prank!” Megumi shouts as he leans back away from Toji slightly.

Your husband lets out an annoyed grunt. “You two play too much. Gonna make me kill my own son.” He says as he releases Megumi’s shoulder. He walks back over to his seat at the dining table and smacks your ass on the way back.

SUKUNA

“Ryu, come take out the trash!” You yell to your son. He recently brought up the idea of pranking Sukuna by yelling at you to shut up in front of him. You had urged your son that this was a bad idea, but he was persistent.

Sukuna was sat at the dining table, eating whatever Uraume had prepared for him. Usually, Uraume handled the trash as well, but you distinctly told them to leave it.

There’s no response.

“Ryu! Trash now!” You call out again in a more frustrated tone.

Sukuna is biting his tongue at this point. There is nothing that he hates more than insolence, especially towards you. You’re his queen, and he demands for all to respect you, including his son.

No response.

“Ryu!”

“Okay mom! Shut the fuck up!”

All four of Sukuna’s eyes widened, and he put down his fork. “Domain expansion. Malevolent-“

“It’s a prank!” You shout as you spin to look at Sukuna quickly. Your son is standing behind you, quite literally trembling in fear.

“Yeah- it’s a p-prank, dad.” Ryu stutters out.

Sukuna narrows his gaze, and he looks between the two of you. “Foolish.” He grunts. “Boy, come have a seat.” He commands, and your son reluctantly complies.

“If you ever pull some shit like that seriously, I’m not afraid to start over and make a new kid. I got nothing but time on my hands.” Your husband says while eyeing your son.

“Ryu’s a good kid, Kuna.” You assure him as you walk over to your husband and rub on his shoulders a bit.

“Mmm, for now.” He mumbles, and he nods his head to the trashcan. “Take the trash out.”

NANAMI

Your husband was sitting in the living room, enjoying his “lazy Sunday” as he called it. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. He couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for the life he was living right now.

He had everything he ever dreamed of: a stable job, an amazing wife, a small family in a loving home.

You were sitting next to him, casually rubbing on his thigh through his pajama pants. You and your daughter had been texting about playing a prank on your dear husband, and it was finally going to happen.

“Hana, did you fold the clothes like I told you to?” You call out to your daughter as she’s in her bedroom. Nanami turns a page in his book, still not paying too much attention.

“Mom, I’m doing something!” Your daughter yells back.

“Hana, get in here and fold those clothes!” You shout back, getting a bit more serious. Nanami lets out a small sigh as he places his mug on the coffee table. He’s normally quick to nip Hana’s attitude in the bud.

“I’m busy!”

“Hana!”

“Okay mom! Just shut up already!” She finally yells as she storms into the living room. Nanami shuts his book and immediately stares down your daughter.

“What did you just say?” He asks as he sits up from his cozy position. His jaw tightens a bit as he glares at Hana.

“I just told her to shut up. She’s being overdramatic.” Your daughter continues, playing her part perfectly.

“Who’s her? Your mother? You’re telling my wife to shut up?” Nanami says as he starts to stand up.

“It’s just a prank, Ken!”

“Dad, it’s a prank-!”

You and your daughter both shout nervously, and Nanami looks at both of you confused for a moment. It then clicks in his head. “God, don’t stress me out like that.” He chides as he relaxes back on the couch. He wraps his arm back around you and picks up his book again.

[luveline]

I absolutely adore your Spencer x Hotch!sister fics! <3 Can we possibly see the dynamics if it were switched? A Hotch x Spencer's Older Sister fic, pretty please? But no worries if not! Thank you, hope you have a good day!

Was Spencer’s sister always this shy? Hotch can’t remember (and he can’t stop himself from flirting, just a little). fem, 1.4k

“Reid?” Hotch asks. 

Spencer grins at his phone. 

“Reid.” Hotch clears his throat. “Spencer.” 

Spencer puts his phone down on the desk, but he doesn’t seem to have heard Hotch either way. When he realises Hotch is standing by his desk, he perks up. “Hotch, can I ask a favour?” 

Hotch had been about to ask Spencer a favour, but it’s fine. “Sure.” 

“Uh, my sister is supposed to meet me for lunch in half an hour, but she doesn’t really like restaurants and I’m– me. Do you think she could come to the office?” he asks. 

“Sure, Reid. That’s fine, she just needs a visitor card.” 

Hotch can’t remember the last time he saw you. Probably when Reid first started tailing Gideon a few years ago, when you’d made the trip from Vegas to Quantico to see how he was settling. It was a brief introduction, and, while you may possess a few more practical graces than your brother, you were far shyer at the time. You didn’t mind shaking Hotch’s hand, but you struggled to maintain eye contact after. 

You don’t look much like your brother for reasons he’s never cared to ask, as Hotch has never placed much value on how family comes about. He doubts Spencer does either. But you stay in Vegas with your mother, and Spencer sees you three times a year. Birthdays and Christmas. And today, apparently. 

“What’s the occasion?” Hotch asks. 

Spencer smiles again. “I think she’s gonna move here, with me.” 

“Yeah?” Hotch isn’t the prying boss, but he’s a nosy friend. “Everything okay?” 

“Things are great, I mean.” Spencer has the expression of someone deciding what they can and can’t say. Eventually his eyes clear, and Hotch feels satisfied at the realisation that trust has settled tightly between them. “When I decided my mom needed help, Y/N, she hated that, and maybe she resented me, but– I used to worry she hated me, but she doesn’t.” 

“I don’t think she could,” Hotch says easily. 

Spencer nods. Whether he agrees is up for debate, though. “If t’s finally hit her that mom’s sick forever, so she’s feeling out her options.” 

“That must be a hard thing to realise.” 

“Yeah. But things really are great, she’s here now, her stuff is coming tomorrow, and– and maybe she’ll stay for a while.” 

Hotch likes excitement on Reid (when it doesn’t impede their most important work, that is). Truthfully, there’s so much to worry about that Hotch can’t admit to worrying about Reid as much in recent years, and yet he’s relieved to hear that there will be more Reid’s in a hundred mile radius. 

“I’m glad,” Hotch says honestly. “She’s more than welcome here. If she can cope with the photographs in the conference room, the round table is all yours.” 

Hotch retreats to his office and forgets about it for a while, submerged in his own lunch and a certain seven year old’s birthday planning. Jack wants a clown, and a cake with Cars, and he really wants a bounce house. Which is great, but Jack decided he wanted the bounce house last night, and his party is at the end of the week. Hotch makes a bunch of phone calls and finally gets to take a victory lap forty five minutes later. 

He steps out of his office, enticed by the sound of laughter. Spencer laughs like he’s surprised ninety percent of the time, and yours is no different. It’s clear to the listening ear who taught Spencer how to laugh. 

“I love it, I don’t ever want to hear a bad word about it,” you say through peels of it, a breathy, smiley warmth to you as a chair creaks from within the conference room, “and I mean that. Please don’t tell me any facts.” 

“I know so many you’d like to hear!” 

“I don’t doubt it, but please, as a favour? You can tell me about everything else.” 

“Processed cheeses–”

Hotch turns the corner as you put down a sandwich. “Okay, fine. I’m done, are you happy?” you ask, your smile fading into a more polite one as you meet Hotch’s eyes. 

“I didn’t get to say anything.” 

“Some things are better left unsaid,” Hotch says. He doesn’t interrupt, only says it into the quiet, and he doesn’t bother with fanfare. It’s just to alert Spencer of his presence. “Y/N,” Hotch adds, “hello. It’s good to see you.” 

He’s alarmed by your reaction —your eyes widen in your seat, hands hidden beneath your thighs, and your lips part ever so slightly. “Agent Hotchner,” you say softly, almost weakly. 

He’s not that intimidating, is he?

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he says. 

“You’re not interrupting, I was just telling her about the dangers of processed cheese. They’re so irregularly salty that the sodium has to be marked as a cause of heart disease on FDA approved packaging for the service industry,” Spencer says. 

“I’m sure some every now and then won’t hurt,” Hotch says, attempting to offer you a friendly smile. “Spencer tells me you’re staying here for a while, that’s great. How are you liking the weather? It must be a change from Nevada?” 

You look peculiarly hot. “It’s different,” you agree.

Voices ring from the bullpen. 

Spencer stands up. You stand with him, but Spencer says, “Sorry, is that Morgan? He said I have to go and get him when you’re here.” 

“Spencer–”

Spencer’s already leaving. “He threatened me, actually,” he’s saying, more to himself than either of you as he departs. 

You wring your hands. 

Hotch worries his brows are giving him away. You’re acting strangely, but maybe he’s too much. He is a special agent, sometimes the other parents at Jack’s school get antsy around him like they’re worried he can tell they haven’t paid their last parking fine. Maybe you’ve a secret crime you’ve committed. 

He watches you more closely, to your flustering. 

No crime, Hotch thinks, but a secret. Even from Spencer. 

“So how’s your day, Agent Hotchner?” you ask softly. 

It’s actually quite sweet, the way you say it. Your nerves are cute. 

“Busy.” The expected answer. “I’ve been trying to plan a birthday party between paperwork.” 

“For Jack?” 

He smiles with more gentleness. “Yes, for Jack.” 

“He was, um, a newborn, when we last met. Just a couple of weeks old, I think. How old is he turning now?” 

“Seven.” 

You breathe out. “Wow. Seven years.” 

Seven years, and your crush on him remains. That’s what he’d forgotten —when you visited Spencer at the time, even Gideon had mentioned your frazzled, almost dizzy disposition whenever Hotch was around. And Gideon tended to focus narrowly on work at work, so Hotch had known he wasn’t making it up. 

At the time it had been cute, but awkward too, and infeasible. He’d been dedicatedly married and in love with his Haley. And if he weren’t, your age gap might’ve been a little non-functioning, Hotch well into his thirties, and you a fresh twenty-five. 

Today you’re older, and more beautiful. Something about you has shifted, a blossoming into your features, and Hotch actually has the ability to notice it now. 

Your Spencer’s sister, he remembers suddenly. Probably not a woman he should flirt with, some subtle compliment lost on his tongue. 

“You look the same,” you say. 

He laughs. “That’s kind and untrue. I’m getting old.” 

The look you give him then is a shock and a pit, long the long forgotten twist of butterflies. “No,” you say, looking down at your hands, “I wouldn’t say that.” 

“What would you say?” he asks. 

You’re saved —poor girl, he doesn’t know what he was thinking, you can barely hold your head up— as Morgan bounds up the stairs and into the conference room. He gathers you for a hug as though he knows you better than he does, and Hotch loses sight of your face. 

Unknown to him and unseen, Morgan’s greeting is white noise. Why does he talk like that? you think to yourself desperately. He’s asking you all those questions with this weight to them, and he’s so calm! I’m going back to Vegas. 

“How long are you staying?” Morgan asks. 

You laugh weakly and accidentally catch Hotch’s eye, who smiles at you nicely. 

“Oh, I don’t know. A couple of weeks, maybe.” 

Longer, if you have reason. 

[pedrospatch]

someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She’s donning a festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress, and her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

[we-do-be-writing]

Taking Care

Sebastian (SDV) x Reader

A/N: I recently got back into Stardew Valley with the 1.6 update and got this dialogue with Sebastian, which gave me many ideas lol. I may end up writing a part 2 to this or just edit this post to add more

Another A/N: Okay, I totally did edit this to add more, and I think I'm going to do it again at some point lol

Last A/N: I did do it again lol, but now I think I've used all my ideas for this story

"What?! Are you kidding me?" You whisper shout, trying to keep Robin from hearing you.

Who knows what she would do if she found out Sebastian went into the caves alone. To be fair, you were about to knock him upside the head when you saw the gash on his arm.

It was gross, to say the least. It traveled up his forearm, the edges where his skin was split looked wilted, and you were surprised you couldn't see bone with how deep it was. Again, it was pretty gnarly.

"Sebastian, that needs to be taken care of; if you get an infection, you could lose your arm."

"That's a bit overdramatic," Sebastian says, "besides, I can't go see Harvey, he'd tell my mom for sure."

"Fine, then I'm going to take care of it."

You don't wait for his protest, grabbing his other arm and leading him to the couch in his room. Luckily for him, you were just on your way to the mines, so you had first aid supplies on hand.

First, you doused the wound with a life elixir, which stung based on the hiss Sebastian let out. Though already his skin was starting to close back together, the wonders of the Valley magic.

"I can't believe you went in there-"

"Hey, I have every right to go in there, same as you." He snapped, cutting you off.

You looked up and saw the harsh glare he was throwing your way, which you were happy to return as you continued...

"Slow down, hot shot. If you'd let me finish, I was going to say, 'I can't believe you went in there without a weapon.'"

"Oh," He mumbles, his eyebrows softening and his lips frowning, "Sorry, I guess I just didn't want a lecture."

"Well, you deserve one," you remark, "but now isn't the time."

"I lost my mace, but I didn't think it would be a big deal to go into the higher levels."

You sigh while grabbing gauze and a bandage to wrap around his arm. Gently, you take his arm in your hands and begin covering the wound.

Sebastian can feel goosebumps rising as he feels your surprisingly soft hands take care of him. He doesn't want to admit it to you yet, but it feels nice to have you there with him, worried about his well-being.

You finish wrapping his arm and look up to see him already gazing down at you. He almost seems to be in a trance, and you can feel yourself following along. Who knows how long you two spend looking at each other, wondering what will come next.

Taking a chance, you cup his hand in yours, drawing circles with your thumb. Slowly, your other hand travels up towards his face. Sebastian lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes, ready for anything.

However, before you can make contact, Robin calls for Sebastian from the stairs, breaking the moment. His eyes snap open and you both jolt away, trying to come back to the present moment.

Quickly, Sebastian pulls his sweatshirt sleeve over the bandaged wound and calls back to his mother, telling her he'll be right there. You both emerge from his room, much to Robin's surprise.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had company." She says, noticing the blush coating yours and Sebastian's face. You can tell she's trying to keep the teasing smile from showing, though she thankfully doesn't ask questions.

"It's alright, I was just leaving anyways." You say hastily, waving goodbye to them both before booking it out of the building.

Before the door closes, you can hear a faint mumble from Robin. Sebastian, in a much louder fashion, tells her to keep her voice down, and you swear you hear him say something akin to "not yet."

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

It's been 2 days since you last saw Sebastian, but now it's Friday, and you couldn't miss the weekly hangout with Sam and Abigail. Of course, it's not like you were avoiding Sebastian, but you also weren't sure how to act around him right now.

Usually, you would share everything with Abigail, but you had promised Sebastian that you wouldn't tell anyone that he got hurt. Unfortunately, Abigail isn't one to miss things going on with her best friend, so you had to admit to her that something had happened between you two.

This made tonight particularly anxiety-inducing as you didn't know what to expect when you walked into the saloon. You were the last to join, not unusual with your work on the farm.

The trio is in their usual spots, Seb and Sam playing pool with Abigail sitting on the couch. After saying hello to the others in the saloon, you join them.

Robin tries to slyly give you a thumbs up when you pass by. You and Demetrius furrow your brows in confusion, but you give her a smile and continue on.

"Hey, Y/n!" Abigail calls, waving you over to sit beside her on the couch.

Sebastian was just going to hit the cue ball when he heard your name, causing the pool stick to shake. The cue ball ricochets wildly across the table and Sam laughs at Sebastian's frown.

"Hmm, you seem a little distracted, Seb," Abigail says, "I think it's my turn."

You watch as she gets up and ushers Sebastian out of the way, wanting to pull her back to the seat. The boys share a look of confusion, but Seb moves over to the side with you.

While Sebastian's back is turned to her, Abigail tries to give you a discreet wink, to which you squint your eyes at her.

When he gets to the couches, Seb hesitates whether to join you or sit on the adjacent seat.

Before you can move, he shakes his head a little and plops down beside you, considerably closer than Abby was.

You try to mask the surprise and keep your body from going rigid. Why were you freaking out? He's one of your best friends; it's not like you haven't sat together before.

You pinch the inside of your hand to shake you from your thoughts. Looking over, you see Sebastian's eyes trained on the pool game.

Right as the cue ball cracks against an object ball, you lean closer to his ear and whisper, "How's your arm feeling?"

Seb lets out a shaky breath, something he's been doing a lot with you recently.

"It's good, there's just a scar left." He says, moving to face you and lifting his jacket sleeve just enough for you to see.

He's right, the wound has completely closed, and the scar is faded to a light pink. You feel relief flood your system, not realizing how worried you were about him.

"I'm glad." You say softly, going to touch the scar before pausing.

Glancing up, Sebastian gives you a tiny nod, and you watch the goosebumps rise on his arm as you make contact. You gently run your fingers along the mark, making him shiver.

"Does it hurt?" You whisper, lifting your gaze to meet his.

He shakes his head, "Just sensitive."

You cup his arm in your hands, a mimic of what happened 2 days ago in his room. This time, he flips his arm over, bringing his hand to yours, fingers dancing over your palm.

Now it's your turn to have your breath catch, but you don't break the eye contact. Just before Sebastian can lace his fingers through yours, Abigail cheers loudly, causing you two to break away.

Broken from your shared trance once again, you see Robin walk into the room. Sam and Abigail are looking at you both with a raised eyebrow as Sebastian talks to his mother.

"Seems like something that should happen in private," Abigail whispers to you, and you have to fight the blush clawing its way up your neck.

"Seems like something that's never going to happen." You respond. In your defense, it's difficult to think that the universe isn't stopping this for a reason.

Sam shakes his head vigorously, "It will, be patient."

You huff and roll your eyes playfully, kind of, but the conversation is halted when Sebastian returns to the group.

"Guess it's time to go home," Sam says, guiding Abigail to the door of the saloon.

You and Sebastian follow, but he grabs your arm to make you stop once you leave the building.

"Let me walk you home."

Your mouth drops open, but no words come out. He raises an eyebrow slightly, and you snap your mouth shut, giving him a tiny nod.

You both walk side by side until you leave the town center, cross through the area near the bus stop, and onto your farm. Stopping at the porch, Sebastian shuffles and scratches the back of his neck. Giving him a soft smile, you step closer and reach your hand from your side, ghosting your fingers over his.

Another shaky breath, and you make a mental note to ask Harvey to check into that at Sebastian's next check-up. You're brought back to the moment when his hand grabs yours and he pulls you closer.

Gently, his other arm wraps around your waist, and his hand rests on your back. You follow his lead, running your free hand up his chest to the back of his neck.

Feeling your breath hit his lips, Sebastian decides he's done with the waiting, the tension, and the interruptions. He leans down and gives you an intense kiss, if a little sloppy. You can't exactly complain; it's not like there are many people he would be kissing in Pelican Town.

You pull back a little, keeping your lips close to his. When you look, his eyes are still closed, almost as if he is searing this moment in his memory.

Closing your eyes, you do the same, hoping that you both will make many more memories. Who knows how much time passes before you step back. Sebastian's eyes blink open, and you share a smile as your eyes meet again.

"I don't think I ever said thank you for taking care of me."

"I'll always take care of you."

[meazalykov]

mother who stepped up

stepmom!lena oberdorf x mom!reader

summary: lena accepts you, and the mini-you

warnings: one mention of death, nothing too impactful to the story though. very long fic

you’ve never been one for surprises. your life, at least recently, has been built on carefully crafted routines, ensuring that your two-year-old daughter, macy, is comfortable and happy. 

dating? it was something you thought would come much later—if at all. after coming to terms with your sexuality, you didn’t want to date unti you were reassured that you’d be with the right woman for your daughter. 

here you are, sitting across from lena oberdorf, a suggestion from your well-meaning friends, and even though you like her, there’s something you or your mutual friends haven’t told her yet.

everything had been going smoothly with lena from the start. she was charming, funny, flirtatious, and made you feel seen in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time.

you didn’t think you could get used to someone so effortlessly, but somehow, lena just fit into your life—except for that one secret you hadn’t yet shared.

you’re sitting across from lena at a cozy café, sipping your coffee and listening to her talk about her game against wolfsburg– a club she played many years ago. 

it’s easy to get lost in the sound of lena’s voice, the way her eyes light up when she talks about football. you nod along, smiling as she recounts a funny moment from practice. 

for a while, everything feels perfect—simple, like your lives are in sync. in the back of your mind, you know you will have to tell her about macy. the little mini-you that is currently coloring in her daycare class across munich.

the conversation shifts to lighter topics, and you pull out your phone to check a notification. 

you sit your phone flat on the table and as you’re about to lock the screen, lena leans in, catching a glimpse of the photo that displays on both your home and lock screen. 

your heart skips a beat when you realize what she’s seeing—macy, her chubby little cheeks, dimples, and wild curls staring back at you from the lock screen. 

lena’s brow furrows slightly, curiosity flickering across her face.

“aweee who’s that?” she asks, her tone casual but with a hint of intrigue.

you freeze for a second, unsure how to respond. 

here we go, you think, heart pounding. swallowing hard, you try to brush it off with a light chuckle. 

“oh, that’s little macy.”

lena tilts her head, staring at the screen for a moment longer before locking eyes with you. 

“macy?” she echoes. “is she… your niece or something? she looks just like you.” she smiles, clearly finding the resemblance cute.

you force a small smile, feeling your throat tighten. this is it—the moment you’ve been dreading. 

“uh, no… she’s not my niece.”

“oh,” lena says, looking at you, then back at the picture. 

“then, what, a cousin? a friend’s kid?”

you can see her mind working, trying to make sense of it. your fingers tighten around the edge of your phone, and you finally decide to rip the band-aid off.

“she’s my daughter….”

lena’s eyes widen, her gaze darting back to the screen, then to you. her lips part in surprise, but she doesn’t say anything right away. she stares at the lock screen as if seeing it for the first time, really seeing it.

“your daughter?” she repeats softly, almost like she’s processing the words.

you nod, feeling the anxiety rising in your chest. 

“yeah. she’s turning two in a few months. macy’s my little girl.”

for a long moment, lena just looks at the photo, her expression unreadable. you watch as her gaze flickers between the image of macy and you, comparing the two of you. 

“she… she looks just like you,” lena murmurs, her voice almost in awe. 

“i thought she was you for a second, like, as a baby.”

you let out a small, nervous laugh, trying to keep the mood light despite the tension knotting in your stomach. 

“yeah, she’s basically my mini-me. she’s got my nose and everything.”

lena doesn’t seem to hear your attempt at humor. instead, her brow furrows deeper as she studies the photo. 

“wait, she’s… really your daughter? like, you have a kid?”

you bite your lip, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. 

“yeah, she’s mine. i know i should’ve told you sooner, but…” you trail off, not knowing how to explain the complexity of it all.

“but why didn’t you?” lena asks, her tone still soft, but there’s something raw in her voice—an undercurrent of emotion that you can’t quite place.

you glance down at your coffee, swirling it absentmindedly. “i didn’t know how,” you admit. 

“i didn’t want to scare you off. most people aren’t exactly thrilled about dating someone with a kid.”

lena leans back in her chair, processing what you’ve said. “you thought i’d be scared off because you’re a mom?”

you shrug, feeling a little defensive but mostly scared. “it’s happened before,” you say quietly. 

“people hear ‘single mom,’ and they run for the hills. i just… didn’t want that to happen again.”

lena is quiet for a moment, her eyes still on the picture of macy. she seems to be absorbing everything, and you can’t help but hold your breath, waiting for her to say something—anything.

“is the father around?” lena says her thoughts out loud. 

“oh no no no. um– he didn’t want anything to do with macy. he also passed away shortly after mae turned one. her father and i were never together or even had feelings for eachother– it was just um..” you trail.

“i’m very sorry about that.” lena says, looking up at you before looking back to the photo of your little daughter. 

“oh no don’t apologize.” you say.

there's a pause for a few minutes. its clear that you wanted to switch the topic away from macy’s biological father, who wanted nothing to do with her before his passing anyways. 

lena looks up at you, giving your phone back with her expression softening. 

“you’d thought i’d run?” lena asks, a small, incredulous smile playing on her lips. 

“because of this? because of her?”

you shrug again, not trusting yourself to speak. all your worst fears are bubbling to the surface, and you can’t shake the feeling that this might be the moment it all falls apart.

lena reaches across the table, taking your hand gently in hers. 

“y/n, she’s beautiful,” she says, her voice sincere. “i mean, she really is a little version of you.”

you blink, the words not sinking in right away. “you… you’re not mad?” you ask, your voice trembling just slightly.

lena shakes her head, squeezing your hand. “no, i’m not mad. i just… wish you’d told me sooner. i know we’ve only been official for a week but–” she pauses, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

“i get why you didn’t, but… i’m not going anywhere. i like you. and now that i know about macy… i like her too. even if we haven’t met yet.”

the relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming, and you feel your eyes welling up. you’ve been bracing yourself for rejection, for lena to tell you this was too much for her. 

though here she is, sitting across from you, holding your hand, and telling you that she’s not going anywhere.

“you’re really okay with this?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“more than okay,” lena says, her voice firm but kind. 

“you’re a mom. that’s a part of who you are, and that’s okay with me.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart finally starting to settle. 

“thank you,” you whisper, blinking back the tears. “you don’t know how much that means to me coming from you.”

lena smiles, giving your hand one last squeeze before letting go. “so, when do i get to meet this little mini-you?” she asks with a teasing grin.

you chuckle softly, wiping at the corner of your eye. “soon. i just… didn’t want to spring her on you right away.”

“well, now that i know about her,” lena says, leaning back with a playful smirk, “i feel like i’m the one being kept a secret from macy.”

you laugh, the tension between you finally breaking. “i guess we’ll have to fix that soon.”

lena grins, taking another sip of her coffee. “i’m looking forward to it.”

the next day– lena doesn’t text much. you know that she is busy training at bayern but anxiety consumes you. 

your thoughts spiral. maybe she changed her mind and realized that it was too much for her. maybe she’s having second thoughts. 

by mid-afternoon, you’re glued to your phone while macy is with her aunt (your sister), checking for any sign from her. 

nothing comes, and your heart sinks.

as you’re picking macy up from your sisters, your phone finally buzzes. lena’s name flashes across the screen, and you almost drop your keys in your hurry to check it.

lena: hey, can we talk later? i’ve been thinking a lot.

you stare at the message, panic clawing at your chest. thinking doesn’t sound good. you force yourself to respond.

you: sure. what time?

the reply is almost instant. 

lena: i can come over tonight?

you hesitate. having her over… that means she’ll meet macy, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for that yet. you also know you can’t keep her at arm’s length forever. you type back quickly.

you: yes, come at 7.

you spend the rest of the afternoon trying not to overthink it. 

as soon as macy is fed and bathed, your nerves start creeping back. you’re pacing the living room, glancing at the clock, when the doorbell rings.

macy, sitting on the couch with her stuffed miffy bunny and fluffy blanket, perks up. 

“mama, door!”

you smile, ruffling her hair. 

“stay here, baby,” you say softly, walking to the door. 

you open it, and there she is—lena, standing on your doorstep wearing a black outfit along with a grey beanie, looking as unsure as you feel.

“hey,” she says, giving you a small smile.

“hey,” you reply, stepping aside to let her in. you’re about to close the door when macy toddles over, clutching her miffy bunny in her small hands. lena’s eyes immediately land on her, and she smiles.

“this must be macy,” lena says, her tone soft and warm.

you nod, watching as macy stares up at lena with her wide (reader’s color) eyes. 

“yeah, this is her.”

lena crouches down to macy’s level, holding out her hand. “hey, macy. i’m lena.”

macy looks at you for reassurance before shyly reaching out to shake lena’s hand. 

“miffy bunny,” she says, showing off her stuffed toy.

lena chuckles softly. “that’s a cool bunny.”

you watch the exchange, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t expected. lena looks so natural with macy, and it’s a sight you weren’t prepared for. 

you clear your throat, trying to shake off the wave of emotion.

“so, um, you said you wanted to talk?” you ask, motioning for lena to follow you to the couch.

she nods, standing up and giving macy one last smile before sitting beside you. macy toddles back to the couch, climbing up and sitting between your legs, still clutching her bunny as her small arms hug your waist.

“yeah,” lena says, glancing between you and macy. “i’ve been thinking a lot since last night.”

you nod slowly, waiting for the bomb to drop.

“i know this is a lot,” she continues, her voice gentle but steady. 

“and i understand if you’re worried about how i’ll fit into your life, into macy’s life, but… i want to try.”

you blink, taken aback. “you do?”

lena nods, reaching out to gently take your hand. 

“yeah. i mean, i didn’t expect this either, but i really like you, y/n. and if macy’s a part of your life, then i want to be a part of that too.”

you sit back, still reeling from the way the conversation unfolded. the tension that had knotted up your stomach starts to loosen, but you can’t help feeling the need to set some boundaries—just to be sure lena knows what this really means. 

it’s too early in the relationship to assume anything, and you don’t want to put any pressure on her, especially when it comes to macy.

taking a deep breath, you meet lena’s eyes. 

“i just want to be clear about something,” you say softly. 

“i don’t expect anything from you when it comes to macy. you’re not obligated to her, and i’d never force any duties on you. it’s still really early in our relationship, and i don’t want you to feel like you have to step into a role you’re not ready for. if you just want to date me, that’s okay. i mean it. however i just want you to understand that in a case between you vs. macy– i’ll always choose macy.”

lena watches you closely, her brow furrowing slightly as she listens. she leans forward, resting her arms on the table, and shakes her head gently. 

“y/n, you don’t have to put up walls.”

you bite your lip, feeling the weight of her gaze. “i’m not putting up walls,” you explain quietly. 

“i just… i want to be fair. macy’s is the biggest part of my life, but she’s my responsibility, not yours. i don’t want you to feel like you have to take on so much at once. i don’t want you to feel trapped.”

lena sits back in her chair, exhaling slowly. her eyes soften as she takes in your words. 

“first of all, macy isn’t a trap,” she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. 

“she’s your daughter. i don’t see that as something to run from.”

your heart stumbles at her words, but you try to stay grounded. “but it’s still a lot for you,” you press gently. 

“being with me means being with macy too, and that’s a lot to ask of anyone. especially this soon.”

lena reaches across the table again, her hand finding yours, warm and steady. “i get what you’re saying,” she begins, her voice calm but sincere. 

“and i appreciate that you don’t want to rush things or put pressure on me. but, y/n, macy is a part of you. she’s part of your life, and if i want to be with you, that means i’m choosing to include her too.”

she squeezes your hand, her eyes locked on yours. “i’m not saying i’m trying to be her mom right away, or that i know how all of this is supposed to work. but i want to figure it out. because macy is important to you, and that makes her important to me.”

your heart swells, and you can feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes again. you hadn’t expected this, not so soon, and certainly not with such certainty in her voice. 

it’s like lena had already made the decision in her heart before you even started this conversation.

you blink back the tears, swallowing hard as you nod. “i… i didn’t know if you’d feel that way.”

“of course i do,” lena says softly, her thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. 

“i’m not scared off by you being a mom, y/n. it doesn’t make me want this any less.” 

you take a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the depth of her words. “i’ve never had anyone say that to me before,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. 

“it’s always been the reason people walk away.”

lena’s eyes soften even more, and she moves her chair closer to you, her hand never leaving yours. “well, i’m not them,” she says simply, her voice steady and sure. “i’m here. and i’m not going anywhere.”

the emotions well up in you, and for a moment, you’re speechless. you look down at your joined hands, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. she’s serious. she’s really serious.

“thank you,” you finally whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “thank you for… for staying.”

lena smiles, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

macy, oblivious to the weight of the conversation, leans against your arm, yawning as she starts to doze off. 

you glance down at her, then back at lena, your heart full in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

from that moment on, things between you and lena shift. she starts coming over more, spending time not just with you but with macy too. 

at first, macy is a little shy around her, but lena is patient, never pushing too hard, just gently easing her way into your daughter’s life. it doesn’t take long before macy is running to the door to greet lena with a grin, her little arms reaching up for a hug.

the first time macy calls her "obi”,  your heart skips a beat. it's a simple moment—you're all sitting on the floor of your living room, surrounded by toys, when macy tugs on lena's sleeve, her big eyes looking up at her expectantly.

"obi, play?" she asks, holding out a mermaid barbie.

lena grins, taking the truck from macy. "of course liebe."

watching them together, you can't help but smile. it’s becoming clearer each day—lena’s not just here for you. 

she’s here for macy too. sometimes you joke that she is only here for macy.

as the years goes by, lena becomes more and more involved in your life. she starts joining you for bedtime routines, helping with bath time, reading macy her favorite stories as she grows older. 

after lena, macy, and you move into an apartment together— lena is for the tantrums, the messy dinners, the sleepless nights. sometimes, she will take the initiative so you can rest. the more time she spends with macy, the more it feels like she belongs in your little family.

three years after the important conversation, your life with lena feels like a dream. 

macy is five now, full of energy and curiosity, and lena has been there for all of it—every scraped knee, every preschool recital, every bedtime story. your home is filled with laughter and warmth, the life you never imagined you’d have when you were raising macy on your own. 

now, as you sit together on the couch, macy fast asleep in her room, lena leans into you, her fingers tracing patterns on your hand. she’s quiet, more thoughtful than usual, and you can sense something’s on her mind. she glances at the engagement ring on your finger, the same ring you’ve been admiring for months now, and then turns to you with a serious expression.

“i was thinking,” lena says quietly, her voice soft in the dim light.

“about what?” you ask, turning to look at her.

she hesitates for a moment, her hand pausing on your arm. “about macy. and… about us.”

your heart skips a beat, but you keep your voice steady. “what about us?”

“i know it’s still early but…” she says, her voice careful, 

you blink, processing her words. “but…?”

she takes a deep breath. “once we get married i’ll be macy’s stepmom. something i’ve been thinking about for a while. however i don’t want to wait until then. i want to be a mom to macy. if you’ll let me.”

the weight of her words settles over you, and for a moment, you’re speechless. you’d always hoped, deep down, that lena would want to be a part of macy’s life, but hearing her say it out loud—it feels overwhelming in the best possible way.

“i know i’m not her biological mom, and i’ll never try to replace that, but… i love her, y/n. i love both of you. and if you’re ready for that, i’d like to be her mom too.”

the tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over, and you reach up to cup her face, your thumb brushing against her cheek. “we’d love that, obi.” you whisper. “we’d love that.” you repeat in awe.

when macy starts calling her “mama lena,” after she turns six– your heart nearly bursts with love.

macy is seven now, and the bond between her and lena has only grown stronger over the years. she clings to lena in a way that sometimes surprises you—like she’s always seeking her approval or comfort. 

it’s been that way ever since lena officially adopted her after turning thirty-one, and you and lena got married. 

you remember that day so vividly, the moment the judge declared that lena was now macy’s legal mother. the joy on lena’s face, the way macy had leaped into her arms, calling her “mama” with such pure excitement, filled your heart with pride and love.

it wasn’t long after when lena got the call—an offer from chelsea. it was a huge opportunity, one that meant she’d be competing in the women’s super league. after a lot of late-night talks and some serious decision-making, lena accepted the offer, which meant the three of you were moving to london. 

the change was exciting, something fresh and new for all of you. macy was thrilled at the idea of living in a new city, and as for you, the thought of starting a new chapter together made you incredibly happy.

in london, lena is the person macy runs to for almost everything. scraped knees, homework help, even just to ask if she can have a snack—lena is her go-to. most days, it fills you with happiness to see them so close, to know that macy has someone who loves her so much. 

sometimes, like today, you can’t help but feel a little sting.

you’d been in the middle of getting macy ready for school. she was in a hurry as usual, fidgeting in her seat while you knelt to help her tie her shoes. 

before you could finish, she pulled her foot away, laughing. “no, no, mama lena does it better!” she giggled, her bright smile lighting up her face.

you laughed too, even though the words pricked at your heart. “oh, really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“guess i’ll need to practice, huh?”

macy just grinned, her curls bouncing as she wiggled her toes. “yeah, you should! don’t worry, you’re still good at other stuff!”

you smiled, ruffling her hair. “well, i’m glad i’m still useful for something.”

she giggled again, completely unaware of how her innocent words had stirred something in you. 

you shoved the feeling aside quickly, focusing instead on making her laugh as you pretended to dramatically fumble with her shoes. her laughter filled the room, her curls tumbling down her back as she leaned forward in her chair, watching you with bright eyes. 

it wasn’t until you were dropping her off at school that the feeling crept back in, like a quiet ache in the pit of your stomach.

it wasn’t that you were jealous—at least, you didn’t think you were. you loved that macy and lena were so close. you’d always hoped that one day macy would have a strong bond with lena, and seeing it unfold so naturally had been like a dream come true. 

still, moments like this made you wonder if you were slowly being edged out, if macy was starting to see lena as the “cool” mom while you were just… the other one that happened to look like her.

you tried not to dwell on it too much. lena had been nothing but supportive, always making sure you knew how important you were to both of them. and really, you were happy. 

lena had embraced being a mother to macy in every way—going to parent-teacher conferences, staying up late to help with school projects, even helping macy with her football in-between training at chelsea. 

that was another thing: football.

macy had recently started showing a serious interest in the sport, much to lena’s delight. she idolized her mama, always asking about drills and tactics, begging to go to practice with her. 

one afternoon, after watching one of lena’s games, macy had turned to you both, her eyes wide with excitement. 

“i want to play football too!” she’d said, bouncing on her toes.

lena’s face had lit up with pride. “you do, huh? well, we can definitely make that happen.”

since then, lena had been working on getting macy into training, talking to coaches and setting up practice sessions in your backyard. you’d watch them sometimes, lena patiently teaching macy how to pass the ball, how to position herself. 

the way macy looked up at lena, so full of admiration, always made you smile. you were thrilled that your daughter had someone like lena to look up to, someone who could teach her the things you never could.

and yet, in the quieter moments, when macy would run to lena after a long day, her arms wrapping tightly around her waist, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny pang of sadness. it wasn’t that macy didn’t love you—she did, of course.

there was something different about the way she clung to lena, like lena was her whole world. you couldn’t blame her. lena was a natural with her, always knowing just the right thing to say or do to make macy feel safe and loved.

you’d catch yourself watching them sometimes, a soft smile on your face as you listened to their conversations, the easy way they communicated without needing to say much. you’d hide your feelings behind a joke, like the time macy had joked about lena being better at making breakfast, and you’d playfully said, “well, guess i’ll just stick to making the coffee then.” macy had laughed, and you’d felt the sting lessen, pushing it to the back of your mind.

around this time, you and lena had started talking more seriously about having another child. 

this time, you would carry, using lena’s egg along with a donor. you’d been through a few consultations, and after what felt like a whirlwind of planning and waiting, the IVF procedure was finally successful. 

you were pregnant with another little girl.

the joy that filled your heart was indescribable. the idea of adding to your family, of giving macy a sibling, was something you’d dreamed about for so long. and now, with the news confirmed, it was time to tell macy. 

you weren’t sure how she’d react—she’d always been so used to being the only one, the center of attention. but you were hopeful that she’d be excited.

one evening, you and lena sat macy down, her favorite blanket draped over her lap as she snuggled on the couch between you. lena’s arm was around your shoulders, her hand resting gently on your belly, already slightly swollen with the new life growing inside.

“munchkin,” lena said softly, looking at macy with a warm smile. “we have some big news for you.”

macy looked up, her curiosity piqued.

“what is it?”

you took a deep breath, smiling as you leaned forward a little. “you’re going to be a big sister, sweetheart.”

macy’s eyes widened, and for a moment, she just stared at you, her mind clearly racing to process what you’d said. 

“a big sister?” she repeated, her voice uncertain.

“that’s right,” lena added, squeezing your shoulder gently. “there’s a baby in here.” she gestured to your belly. “a little sister for you.”

macy’s face scrunched up, her expression a mix of confusion and hesitation. “but… i like being the only one,” she admitted, her voice small.

you shared a glance with lena, both of you understanding her hesitation. “we know, sweetheart,” you said gently. 

“and you’ll always be our first, our special girl. but having a sister means you’ll have someone to play with, someone who’ll look up to you, someone who’ll need your help.”

macy was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking about what you’d said. her little fingers twisted in the edge of her blanket, her brow furrowed as she processed the news. you could tell she wasn’t sure how to feel.

“and you’ll still get to do everything you love,” lena added. “football, school, everything. this just means there will be more love in the house. and maybe, when she’s old enough, you can teach her some football moves.”

macy’s eyes brightened a little at that, the idea of teaching someone something she loved appealing to her. “i get to teach her football?”

you smiled, nodding. “absolutely. you’re going to be the best big sister ever.”

slowly, macy’s frown faded, replaced by a tentative smile. “okay,” she said, her voice soft but a little more certain. 

“i’ll be the best big sister ever. but only if i get to teach her football.”

lena laughed, pulling macy into a tight hug. “deal.”

and just like that, your family took another step forward, your heart full of love as you prepared for the next chapter in your lives—together.

masterlist

[fatal-thoughts]

Anon here requesting a part 2 to the recent Telemachus fic. Please 🙏

(Btw- I adore your writing style! Gonna binge your fics later ^^)

Aw, tysm! A lot of yall really want a part 2 so here you go, my loves.

A Lovely Exchange P 2

P1 here

Telemachus x Reader

Synopsis: Telemachus already fights off his mother’s suitors, but what if he manages to become one? To… one of the palace’s servants?

A/N: Ya'll are hilarious in the comments of part 1, dw I hear ya'll I hear y'all loud and clear. Also, don't be shy to send me asks and even suggestions, I don't mind^^

“You like her, don’t you, son?”

Wait… WHAT??

HOW DID SHE KNOW?

Was it that obvious? 

WAIT! I DIDN’T KNOW!—

Telemachus was breaking in a cold sweat, his fists shaking as he maintained his eye contact with the ground, not wanting to face his mother.

“I-I…”

‘This is fine, this is fine! Everything will be fine. Just—just lie, right? That seems easy enough…’

He takes a deep breath.

“I… do…”

Athena he has said this once and he shall say it again, please come to his aid.

Penelope’s eyes light up upon hearing that. 

Telemachus was holding his breath so much you’d think he was about to pass out. Thankfully, his mother spoke before he turned blue.

“Good, I always knew you had the eyes for her. Honestly, son, I was just waiting for you to tell me! I always wondered why you’d often avoid Y/n, she is always so sweet and kind—mostly the reason why I favour her so much. Then I realised that's why you were avoiding her. You liked her! How adorable.”

Telemachus took a few good seconds (or more) to process his mother’s words.

Seriously? She KNEW?

And she didn’t SAY ANYTHING?

Well shit, he didn’t know he was that obvious. She could’ve spared him the embarrassment on that one but alright.

“Mom, you knew? This entire time? You KNEW?”

Telemachus asked, standing up and going through a crisis right in front of his mother. Penelope nodded with a sweet smile on her blissful face.

“Why did you not say anything?”

“I wanted to see for myself of course. And the way you spoke to Y/n earlier just proved it.”

Fuuuck he was so AWKWARD WHEN HE SPOKE TO Y/N.

Athena can turn back time, right? She's a goddess so she’s definitely capable of that right? Or maybe he can make a deal with another god just so that Y/n can forget that Telemachus ever existed.

God, he wanted to pass out so badly!!

“It’s alright son, Y/n is more than suitable to be your partner! Speaking of which, look at how beautiful the roses have blossomed this day. You sure chose a lovely girl to court, do you think this is her favourite flower? Or Is it daisies? ”

Penelope sounded so blissfully unaware as she put her hands together, excited with the idea of Telemachus and Y/n together.

“Mom! Please! I’m not even able to speak to her in complete sentences yet! Let alone be her partner right now! Y/n is…”

“Yes, my prince?”

A serene voice called out.

Telemachus froze like ice. 

His mother on the other hand immediately got up on her feet as she approached the voice.

“Y/n! Just in time, my dear. We were just talking about you.”

…Shit.

Having heard your name be called out from a distance, you decided to see where all the commotion was coming from. Soon enough, you found yourself being approached by the Queen and a very… conflicted looking Telemachus.

Did he tell his mother about what happened earlier? Is he still nervous? Why did he look so… red?

Your thoughts were put on hold as you saw Queen Penelope in front of you.

“Did you need anything, my Queen?”

You asked her, her gaze mischievously shifting from you to Telemachus for a split second.

“My son and I were just speaking of your beautiful work in the garden, my dear. You’ve outdone yourself Y/n.”

Telemachus nodded in agreement, an offputting smile on his lips and a pink hue returning to his cheeks and migrating into his ears, which he tried to hide under his hair. 

It was no surprise the flowers you grew were quite a wonderful bunch. Your father used to be the palace gardener and in his spare time, he’d teach you all of his tricks on how to take care of flowers of all kinds. And since his retirement, you unsurprisingly took over.

Hearing the Queen’s praise warmed your heart.

“In fact, you have done so well that Telemachus would love to thank you with a quaint little dinner with him! A lovely exchange isn’t it?”

A dinner? With the prince? How sweet of him, perhaps he does like you a little bit. It doesn’t explain why he’s looking at Queen Penelope in disbelief like she just betrayed him.

Because she did.

He just said that he still couldn’t talk to her in coherent sentences.

And she sets him up with her, on a date, alone, just the two of them.

This is it, he couldn’t believe it.

His mother, his own mother, wants to kill him.

There was no other explanation as to why she would EVER suggest this.

Except if she wanted to actually kill him.

“Telemachus!”

Penelope called out to him, snapping him out of his daze. He fixes from looking at her back to you, with a genuine little smile at him.

“It’s settled then, yes? You will mar—I mean, dine with Y/n tonight correct?”

The boy managed to let out an awkward and voice-cracked “Yes’.

Penelope couldn’t hide her smile at the two as she put her hands on your shoulders.

“Wonderful, You’d be a delightful daughter-in-law!”

You quickly turn your head towards her, daughter-in-law. Is she ensuing…

Meanwhile, Telemachus was for sure about to give in on his own knees.

“I mean—oh well, we shall prepare for your upcoming date now. Come along Telemachus! We have much to discuss! As for you, Y/n, I shall have a tailor for your clothes shortly. We have a special dinner to prepare!”

Penelope moves with a quick pace, dragging Telemachus by his arm which was soon to break from her force.

“AH! Mom! I almost tripped!”

“One must endure slight pain when they are in love, my son.”

“I could’ve gone limp!”

“Same thing, Telemachus. Come along now! We have much to discuss.”

It was a bit confusing, but nonetheless, the exchange brought a sweet smile to your face.

Perhaps Telemachus is a sweetheart.

Sorry if it was a bit rushed, I wanted to work on other one-shots for a bit.

(Aka I'm writing a dark romance Antinous x Reader one-shot since that man has been in my head for so long now and I need to feed my delusions)

Don't expect a part 3 to this btw, I have other fics to write.

(Like the Antinous one, I swear please just let me get this one-shot out PLEASE)

Anyway, hope you liked this one.

-Fatal-thoughts

[babeyun]

out of my head ✮ l.hs [m]

✮ synopsis: years after your friendship with heeseung has begun crumbling, you ask him to be part of one of the biggest days of your life - your wedding day.

✮ genre: estranged best friends to ??? ; semi-unrequited lovers au ; angst ; fluff

✮ pairing: singer!lee heeseung x financial advisor!fem!reader ; sim jaeyun x reader

✮ word count: 10.4k (yikes...)

✮ rating: nc-17.

✮ warning(s): ...kissing? lol? a lot of hurt with no comfort, semi-unrequited lovers, wedding superstitions, mentions of having kids.

✮ playlist: off my face - justin bieber ; are we still friends? - tyler, the creator ; your eyes only - enhypen ; this is why i need you - jesse ruben.

✮ a/n: i'm a yapper sorry, but happiest birthday to heeseung <3 that's my pookie! i love u.

four months ago.

"you're getting married?"

you and heeseung had been best friends for nearly twenty years. the two of you met at a park during a winter storm, both of you having begged your mothers for a chance to go see the snow. a coincidence really, the two of you having somehow lived the same experience (one that heeseung was convinced was fate, while you just boiled it down to two four-year-old kids giving into the natural urge to plunge their grubby little fingers into cold, unforgiving snow.)

however, in the last few years, you'd grown apart. 

you were freshly out of university, and heeseung had recently taken a job as a backup vocalist for one of the local entertainment companies. he'd been a singer his entire life, something you never allowed yourself to pick up because your mother had always taught you that safety nets were better. while heeseung openly explored his talents, eventually learning guitar and slowly, piano - you buried yourself in mathematical equations that made your brain hurt but forced yourself through it all because, after all, you needed a plan.

heeseung lived life on the edge. he didn't care if he had money, if he had belongings - life was more than that to him. he ventured out into the city with nothing but his headphones sometimes, not even so much as bothering to bring an umbrella if it looked like rain. "if i get soaked, i get soaked! life is more than staying inside with your head heavy from studying." he told you once, and you had just shaken your head.

"come on, y/n! don't you want to dance in the rain? don't you want to risk getting sick and having your mom make you that soup you really like? live a little, life is too short to waste away in our bedrooms." he tugged you out of your house that day, making you leave your phone behind as you trekked the entire city by foot, and once the rain did start falling, you were a mile from your house. "heeseung, i can't get sick! i have a presentation–"

"screw that presentation! live in the now!" he held you close as the rain pelted your backs, spinning you around as your laughter echoed in the neighborhood. "isn't this fun! aren't you enjoying this newfound freedom, no expectations? no logarithms, no polynomials!" he exclaimed, making you only laugh harder. "hee, i'm a finance major. that is fun for me!"

"and i'm a y/n major, i know you fucking hate math!" he giggled as he set you down, his fingers brushing your wet hair off your face. "i don't have things like you do, hee! i need a plan, i need something to fall back on. you work to make money to invest into yourself, you don't follow dreams!" you say as the two of you make the route back to your house, making him scoff.

"are you saying i'm wasting my time living the way i do?" he asked, a twang of hurt in his voice going unnoticed by you as you nodded. "i do. i think you are wasting your potential." your words pierced him, but he said nothing more as the two of you reached your mom's house. "see you later, hee."

"see you later."

that had happened three years ago. heeseung noticeably distanced himself after that day, limiting your hangouts to once a week instead of dropping by whenever he felt like it. soon, what were weekly hangouts became biweekly, before you were only meeting him for dinner on a random wednesday night in the middle of the month. you never asked so he never explained, and he simply assumed your silence on the subject meant that your puzzle of a life no longer had a need for a lee heeseung-shaped piece.

it pained him to think that you were outgrowing him.

heeseung was taking classes while working, having finally let your words get to him. you were right, in a way - he couldn't live his life on the edge forever, but the fact that you actually said that to him after constantly reassuring him that you believed in him was...unexpected, to say the least.

"she's just worried about you, hee." his older brother rattled, and heeseung shook his head. he had long told him about that day, and continued to try and decipher it for the years after. he didn’t really understand why it bothered him so much, but his only guess was the same — you had pretended to have an interest in his life, but yet, just like everyone else…

…you had no faith in him.

“yes, hee, i’m getting married! focus!” you tapped your pen on the notepad in front of you, the ice in your matcha long melted. heeseung was gripping his mug of hot chocolate for dear life, wondering where he missed the fact that you were even in a relationship to begin with. “i didn’t even know you had a boyfriend, forgive me for being curious.” he scoffs, making you roll your eyes.

“you would know if you answered any of my calls.” you say pointedly, making him groan. “okay, sorry i’ve been so absent from your life. what’s this guy’s name anyway?”

“sim jaeyun. you can call him jake.” you scribble something onto the notepad, before tearing it off and handing it to him. “this is his number, you’re going to have to talk to him at some point for what i’m about to ask you.”

your smile is mischievous, one that heeseung could never forget. it was engraved in his memory, it lit up his dreams and haunted his nightmares. the same smile he’s written endless lyrics about, the same smile he’s fallen in love with but refused to admit it.

“y/n, i haven’t seen you in six months. how can someone possibly gauge if a person is marriage material in such a short time?” he argues as he folds the scrap of yellow paper. you huff with a frustrated look on your face, “jaeyun and i have been seeing each other for a year! we made it official nine months ago, and we’ve been engaged for three months! i told you this already!”

“when the fuck did you even mention him!?” he groans, and you click your pen angrily.

"hee, if you hadn't been so focused on your own life, you'd be up to date with mine." grimacing, you reach into the knapsack you brought with you. pulling out a pink binder, you set it on the table, facing him. the paper sheet behind the vinyl reads the sims - may 2026. 

he snorts inwardly, before you open the binder. "i know we haven't been as close as we'd like the past few years." you start, clearing your throat as he glances at you. you pull apart the binder rings, pulling out a folder as you continue to speak. "but, i know that you're still doing the singing thing, and i wanted to offer you a gig."

sliding the folder across to him, he glances down at it. it's thick with pieces of printer paper, lyrics typed neatly in times new roman. he recognizes the first song as he slips it out of the folder, his eyes scanning the sheet over and over. 

"you want me to sing at your wedding?" he asks incredulously, and you take a sip of your watered down matcha. you press your lips together as you nod, staring at your fingers. "i showed jaeyun some clips of yours from a few of your other gigs, and he really liked it. this is our song, and we want you to sing it for our first dance." you tap the paper with your pen, and heeseung sighs.

"then why are we here alone? why isn't he here, showing face and asking me with you?" he accuses, and your frown is deep enough that he's sure you're about to throw your drink at him. "he's at work, if you must know. he's busy."

"and what does he work in that he can't come with his future wife to a measly two-hour lunch?" he taps his finger on the table, his eyes boring into yours, searching for any sign of the best friend he'd become estranged from. you weren't there.

"he's..." you bite your lip, staring at whatever was behind him in order not to meet his eyes. he looks at you pointedly, brows raised in expectation - a look he'd always hated from other people. you grimace before responding. "he's a singer, he's recording his album right now." heeseung blinks slowly, something you knew meant he was about to either get up and leave, or he was going to scold you once he processed the information. your best friend was nothing short of an open book, but as he looked down at the sheet in his hand and shook his head, you suddenly couldn't read him anymore.

"after all the shit you gave me." his tongue drips with poison before he shoves the sheet of paper back in the folder, tapping it with his hand before grimacing. "when is the wedding? do i have to be there for the whole thing?" his eyes are full of fire as he stares at you, and you can feel yourself shrink under his gaze. heeseung was rarely ever mad at you, even during these years of estrangement. you were never really on the receiving end of his anger, so you never handled it. "may second. you don't have to stay, if you don't want to. but i'd love for you to be there." your words are softer than you intended, and you can really feel the tug on the invisible string that ties the two of you together.

he nods, pressing his lips together as you watch his eyes brim with tears. "okay." he looks away as the first tear falls, wiping it away quickly before getting up. "just…send me the address when the time comes." he tucks the folder under his arm as he quickly walks away, trying not to let any more tears fall as he exits the cafe.

he can't help but hold everything in as he walks to his apartment, his mind spinning with potential thoughts. when did you get so far? how did he let you stray so deeply, and where did you even meet this guy? why didn't you tell him sooner? or did you, and he just blocked it out? he can't remember, no matter how hard he skims his memory. "fuck!" he screams as he slams his door shut, throwing the folder onto the table in the foyer. 

he slides down the door, a sinking feeling taking over his stomach as he hits the cold tile. he can't help but sob into his hands, his shoulders shaking violently as he does. you're getting married and he missed the entire thing, he's missed the past year of your life and has no remorse in doing so. he only feels sorry now, now that he's realized he's too late.

april 30.

heeseung was increasingly stressed.

you had told him over text (because he wouldn't answer your calls) that he had to take the week off so he could participate in bonding activities with your fiancé's groomsmen. he'd been reluctant, and said he'd get there the thursday before the wedding, nothing sooner – making you upset. he didn't care, he wouldn't lie to himself – he felt betrayed that you were getting married to someone else. it was childish of him and he knew it, but as he aimlessly wandered jeju island alone – it only sank deeper into his bones that he had truly fucked up.

he didn't bother to bond with any of your bridesmaids, either – despite their starry eyes and warm smiles, he could only see the dread in your eyes, the twitch in your lower lip as you greeted your guests with your fiancé. he kept his hand on your lower back at all times, and heeseung wonders if jake knows that he did that in the past. heeseung wonders if jake knows that he held your hand as you both skipped through the sand on family vacations with your families, heeseung wonders if jake knows that he shared a bed with you on nights where thunderstorms would scare you out of your sleep and heeseung would run the three blocks to your house to comfort you.

heeseung wonders if jake knows that he was your first kiss, in the back of heeseung's '96 civic when you were both juniors in high school. heeseung wonders if jake knows that he is in love with you, and that he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to stop.

not that jake knowing any of this would matter, because come saturday night, you'd be out of his grasp forever. he would never place his hand on the small of your back to ease your nerves, he would never hold your hand, he would never share a bed with you. he would never kiss you again, and he'd rather never see you again if it were up to him.

but it wasn't, was it? "heeseung! you made it!" 

heeseung turns to see park sunghoon walking towards him with his hand shielding his eyes from the sun. "oh shit, hey! i didn't think you and y/n kept in touch after high school, it's great to see you." heeseung greets him, and sunghoon snorts. 

"we didn't, actually. jaeyun and i go way back." sunghoon nods. sunghoon had been a friend of the two of you, but it was hard to keep in touch due to his prominent ice skating career. he was always busy, and it was easier to cut ropes than continuously make promises to see each other only to fall short.

"i'm sorry i didn't reach out more." heeseung starts, but sunghoon shakes his head. "don't even worry about it! my life was too crazy to keep tabs on everybody." sunghoon shakes his head, and heeseung tilts his head at him. "was?" sunghoon shifts in the sand, picking his cuticles as he sighs. "i had to quit, i got injured pretty badly during the finale of my last competition. i won, though, so at least i went out with a bang." he shrugs, and heeseung can see the disappointment in his eyes before offering a hug. "i'm sorry, hoon. that really fucking sucks."

sunghoon rejects the hug with a shake of his head. "it's fine, i'm doing other things now. i work as a backup vocalist for jake, me and jay. oh, jay's here, too! have you seen him?" sunghoon gestures to the air, and heeseung offers a small smile before shaking his head. "haven't seen him yet. to be honest, i don't want to be here." heeseung's confession, if surprising, doesn't seem to faze sunghoon. instead, the younger boy nods. "i figured you wouldn't. you're singing for them, right? i heard through the grapevine." sunghoon smirks, and heeseung rolls his eyes before lightly punching his arm. "stop lying, you brat. you read it on the wedding program."

sunghoon gives him a soft pat on the back, before leaning closer. "she wasn't going to wait forever, heeseung." with a curt nod, sunghoon continues down the beach towards the resort, leaving heeseung with wide eyes and a heavy heart. what did he mean by that?

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the night was heavy as the last of your guests straggled in, and your feet were swelling in your shoes from standing for so long. jake had offered to take over as you went up to your room to change them, and you were internally thanking him as you hobbled to the elevator.

only for you to arrive and see your best friend waiting there calmly, headphones over his ears as he softly nods along to whatever is playing. he looks up when the elevator finally opens, completely oblivious to your lingering presence behind him. it's only when you get in after him, feeling the shift of the elevator's floor, that he looks at you.

his eyes are unreadable as he skims them over your face, a soft tilt to his head before he presses button six, hand hovering over the button as he waits for you to speak. you put up five fingers, and he presses it carefully as the doors close. it's silent, and for the first time ever since you were four years old, heeseung feels like a stranger. a polite stranger that presses the elevator button for you, that has come all the way from seoul on a ferry to sing at his estranged best friend's wedding.

except he's not a stranger, and you're the estranged best friend getting married this weekend. you're the estranged best friend who lied about your fiancé being excited for him to sing your first dance song, and you're the estranged best friend who wants it to hurt him. you want it to hurt, seeing you dance with your soon-to-be husband all night,  you want it to burn in his chest when the two of you kiss at the end of the aisle.

you want him to ache as badly as you did when he basically abandoned you for no good reason. you want him to stay up all night in tears like you did when he wouldn't answer your calls, you want him to rant passionately about you to whoever gets the privilege of being his girlfriend like you did to jake when the two of you first started dating, and you want him to ignore the questions of if you're in love with each other.

just like you did.

loving heeseung was a thing of the past. he was out of your heart and out of your head, for the most part. you only ever thought of him when you'd talk to jake about old high school stories, skipping over the parts where you and heeseung shared loving caresses that the two of you convinced yourselves were nothing more than platonic. it didn't matter now, though, because there was no piece shaped like you in heeseung's puzzling life anymore.

you love jake. he's your endgame, and you're glad to be marrying him.

"are you excited? big day soon." he says gently, and you can feel your stomach turn as he nudges you with his elbow. you nod, a small smile on your lips as you glance down at your engagement ring. jake had it custom made, a marquise diamond nestled onto a thick gold band. it was a little tight, but you promised yourself you'd get it resized after the wedding.

"very excited. are you nervous? about your performance, i mean?" you ask, genuine concern in your voice as he shakes his head. "just another gig, really. it's special to you, though, so i've been putting my all into the rehearsals." he itches his neck, a nervous tick you'd picked up on through the years. you nod, patting his shoulder gently. the conversation stops as the elevator does, the number five on the elevator's neon sign. 

"my stop. i'll see you at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow, right? you need to be there." your eyes are pleading, and heeseung can't help but sigh. "i'll try." 

the answer doesn't seem to satisfy you, but you nod anyway, turning on your heels to go to your room. the doors close, and he lets out a shaky breath. you're very excited to marry sim jaeyun in less than thirty-six hours. you're very excited to be mrs. sim, you're very excited to have your first dance with your husband to the sound of your best friend's voice singing the song that reminds you and jake of your relationship. 

a song that insinuates the two of you are unbelievably high off each other in every which way, and how ruined one of you has made the other for anybody else. but this song doesn't take into consideration how he is ruined for anyone else, how he is in pieces at the mere thought of you wearing white while meeting someone else down the aisle.

he doesn't want to feel like that anymore.

may 01.

"hey! you must be heeseung, i've been waiting forever to meet you!" 

heeseung doesn't recognize the voice as he turns, eyes swollen with sleep when he looks to see you, and who he presumes to be sim jaeyun. he nods absently, before glancing at his cup of hot water. he'd stumbled down to the hotel's complimentary lounge, a packet of fennel mint tea in his hand.

"give me a moment, i'm sorry. i'm barely here." he apologizes sheepishly, tearing the bag open and dipping the bag into the cup. he wipes at his eyes once more, before turning to face a smiling jake. "you're jaeyun, right? nice to finally meet you man, y/n has said some awesome things about you."

lies. heeseung doesn't remember a single thing you have ever said about jake, just that he's a singer. but out of courtesy, and jake's business-like grip on his hand, he smiles through it anyway. "i heard that you asked for me specifically. your wedding song is beautiful." heeseung sees you wince out of the corner of his eye as jake looks a bit taken aback. he tilts his head slightly, but goes along with what heeseung now knows is a lie. "i'm glad you could make it. y/n talks a lot about your singing skills, are you working on any projects right now?" your face is pained as heeseung looks you dead in the eyes, "no, i'm just a backup vocalist. i gave up on that dream a while ago." he looks back at jake, who has a sad smile on his face. "the fame, the money…i was never suited for that life, anyway." "i'm sorry to hear that things didn't work out for you." jake sounds genuine, a flash of sadness in his eyes as he shakes heeseung's hand again. "i hope to see you at the rehearsal tonight. have you got a girlfriend? there'll be quite a few people at our singles' table." jake wiggles his brows and heeseung wonders when you're going to speak.

"actually, heeseung won't be able to stay. he's got another gig on sunday." you lie, and jake's eyes widen. "oh, you'll be missing our reception?" "i'll be leaving right after your dance, i do sincerely apologize." heeseung gives jake a sheepish grin, to which jake nods slowly. "that's unfortunate, there's a lot of people you could network with here! take advantage of it, dreams are meant to become reality." jake finalizes, before giving heeseung another warm smile.

"i will do my best! thank you for having me." heeseung says, and you can feel the fake tone of happiness in his voice seep into your bones. you'd been the only person to ever recognize it, and heeseung knows you're aware he used it as he takes the tea bag out of his mug. "i will see you both tonight." 

he spins on his heel as he hears jake whisper to you.

"you asked him to sing our song? when? why didn't you tell me?" "we can talk about this later, okay? he's really good, i promise."

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your mother had been staring at heeseung for the last fifteen minutes, and heeseung was almost sure she was trying to figure out if he was who she thought he was. he gave her a small smile and waved, and the moment her eyes lit up, the person in front of her turned.

jake. he frowns as she walks away from him mid-conversation, stumbling over only moments before the rehearsal dinner is set to start.

"sorry, sweetie. i didn't know you and my y/n finally made up! it's so good to see you!" her embrace is crushing, and heeseung doesn't have the heart to tell your mother that you're a horrible liar. you hadn't 'made up' – he was simply doing you a favor, something else you'd lied about. he just smiles as she pulls back, ruffling his hair gently. "love the red, it really suits you." "thank you, auntie. it's nice to see you again." he remains relaxed as he sees her eyes soften. "what's wrong? not ready to see your little girl walk down the aisle?" he teases, and the older woman sighs inwardly. she turns, her shoulder brushing his as they stare into the room full of tipsy bridesmaids and boisterous groomsmen. "if i admit something to you, you'll keep it quiet, right?" she murmurs, and heeseung suddenly feels like this conversation isn't going to be one that favors his unruly feelings for you. "of course, auntie. who am i to tell?" "i always thought you'd be the one to marry my y/n." she sighs, clasping her hands in front of her as her eyes watch jake speaking to you gently as he hands you a glass of wine. heeseung's eyes follow hers and the two of them can see as your face falls and jake quickly moves to hide you from any lingering gazes. "i should go see what's wrong. it's nice to see you, heeseung. please enjoy the wedding!" he nods as your mother quickly crosses the room, her arm around you as jake gets pushed to entertain the guests while you get taken care of. jake looks nervous, and heeseung can't seem to stop his body as he also crosses the room, a small smile on his face. "good evening, jake." "oh, hey! how are you liking the venue so far?" a small flash of relief passes onto his face, and heeseung feels guilty as he shrugs. "it's what i expected for someone like y/n. so floral, so bright. are you sure you had any part in this?" he snickers, and jake laughs genuinely.

"she wouldn't let me even look at the flowers with her. babe, you're going to pick the wrong ones!" he imitates you, and heeseung shakes his head in amusement. you'd always been a bit of a control freak when it came to your visions, and now that your life revolved around financial decisions, you were wound up extra tight. "yeah, she's always been like that." he sighs, and jake doesn't miss the slight tone of sadness.

"listen, i don't know you very well," jake starts, reaching for a bottle of cabernet across the table. he grabs two glasses, uncorking the wine as he leans to pour. "but i want to say thank you." he holds the wine out to heeseung, and he tries not to look curious as he takes it.

"thank you for what?" heeseung asks, and jake gives him a pointed look as he blindly pours his own glass. 

"for taking care of y/n all these years. i know you and i probably won't be the best of friends, i'm the first to admit that i'm not very good at sharing her attention." jake grimaces to himself as he replaces the cork into the bottle. "but i'm glad that she has someone as reliable as you, that can just… be there for her. it's a beautiful thing, your friendship."

heeseung almost feels nauseous as jake continues talking about how sweet your lifelong friendship with him seems. it just confirms that you told jake everything and anything you could about it, and based on his mention of jealousy, that includes the first kiss you shared. he can barely hear jake over the sound of his heart beating in his ears, but understands enough when jake pats his shoulder.

"...and i figured i'd be honest. y/n didn't say anything about you singing our song, we had originally planned for sunghoon to sing it with the band we hired. i guess she thought you'd be better for it, and i trust her judgment." jake says, pulling heeseung back in. "oh, i'm sorry." "don't even worry about it, man. hey, why don't you just relax, enjoy the dinner tonight. tomorrow is going to hit us like a fucking train, we should be well rested today." jake nods, and heeseung reciprocates with a gentle smile as someone else calls for jake's attention. "remember, just chill! network!" jake gestures to the room as he walks backwards towards the people looking for him.

heeseung can't shake the nausea from his throat, setting down the glass of wine to wander to the bathroom. but, the hall seems to get longer and longer, the temperature changing from the cold air conditioning to the humid spring air. he can feel a breeze in his hair, and then he realizes he's on the beach. his feet are buried in the warm sand, shoes in his hand.

sighing, he reminds himself he can't zone out like that all the time. it's not healthy, you had told him once. what if you end up in the middle of nowhere?

he reaches into his pocket, pulled out his spare headphones. he was supposed to bond with everyone at your stupid rehearsal dinner, but he didn't care to do so as he stared at the crashing waves. plugging the headphones into his phone, he gently speaks to siri as he lays on his back, looking up at the cloudless sky.

"hey, siri. play are we still friends? by tyler, the creator."

he stares into the water as the song pours into his ears. he doesn't know where things went to shit, but he knows it's his fault. he should've told you that what you said hurt his feelings. he should have communicated, then maybe it'd be him sitting next you in the private jet your mother rented solely for your honeymoon escape after the reception.

maybe it'd be him spinning you around in your beautiful wedding dress, and whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you dance the night away. maybe it would be him, like your mom had hoped. maybe it would be him, like he had hoped, too.

his fingers dig into the sand as he swallows the lump in his throat. there is nothing in hell, heaven or earth that would stop you from trekking the aisle tomorrow afternoon. nothing would stop jake from kissing you tenderly right in front of him, and doing it for the rest of your lives. it would taunt him, it would haunt him like the ghost of your friendship. you weren't friends anymore, the two of you knew it. things would never be the same between you, and yet, neither of you was brave enough to ask the question.

why?

"heeseung! are you out here?!" he can hear sunghoon's voice over the fourth replay of the song, lowering the volume as he tilts his head to find him. "over here, what's up?" "what's up? they're waiting for you, man!" sunghoon is standing in the doorway of the resort, the soft breeze blowing his hair back as a bridesmaid also peers over his shoulder. heeseung sighs as he stands, wiping his pants of sand and shoving his phone into his pocket. he walks quickly, humming quietly to himself to semi-prepare his voice for the perfect delivery of the song you wanted him to sing.

everyone is chatting quietly around the tables as heeseung steps inside, running his fingers through his hair as he walks forward. your mother catches his eye, a concerned look on her face, but he can't hold eye contact. he faces the floor as he reaches the small stage the venue has set up for the band, jay perched on a stool holding a guitar.

"hey, hee. you ready?" he asks as he tucks in his in-ear monitor, and heeseung shrugs as he takes his place behind the microphone. only then does he notice that the chatter he heard was just two bridesmaids, kim sunoo, riki nishimura and yang jungwon – all friends of yours and jake's that he hadn't bothered to meet further than reading their names in the program. 

he watches silently as you and jake take the center of the dance floor, your eyes slightly reddened as you gingerly drape your arms over your fiancé. your smile doesn't fill your cheeks as jay begins playing softly.

heeseung takes a deep breath, and your eyes catch him as he begins to sing.

one touch, and you've got me stoned. higher than i've ever known…

you were both thirteen.

he remembers the way you held onto him the night that you lost your first mathletes competition. you cried so hard that you'd almost thrown up, and heeseung could only soothe you by dragging you to the nearest convenience store and shoving a melona popsicle in your hand. you went silent after that, gripping his hand tightly as he walked you home. you'd squeezed his hand three times that night, something he'd always done but you'd roll your eyes at.

"why would i squeeze your hand when i can just tell you, hee?"

you call the shots and i'll follow. sunrise, but the night's still young…

you were both seventeen. 

he remembers when you called him to come over while it was storming, because your mother was out of town. your house was a little over a mile away and normally, he didn't mind the walk. it was almost three in the morning, and he'd been sleeping when your ringtone went off for the third time. "hello?" "hee, please come over. it's storming so bad, i'm so–"

he hadn't even let you finish before ripping his bedsheets off his body and sprinting for the door. his clothes, his shoes, everything was soaking wet by the time he got to your house. you'd embraced him anyway, your own clothes soaking through as he trudged into your home – only for the storm to stop a few moments after his arrival.

no words, but we're speaking tongues. if you let me, i might say too much…

you were both twenty.

he remembers when you asked him, in the middle of your kitchen during your graduation party, if he could kiss you. the house was empty except for the two of you – his parents and your mom had decided to throw a joint party, using the excuse that two best friends should always stick together. your mom had sent you inside for more hor d'oeuvres, and you'd dragged him inside with the excuse that you couldn't carry them all yourself.

"you don't have to, hee. i'm sorry." your eyes were full of embarrassment as heeseung stared at you, a bit in shock at your question. only as you begin to move further into the kitchen does he register what you've said, and grabs your arm, pulling you toward him. "ask me again, i'm sorry. i zoned out, i thought you asked me to kiss you."

"i did." you repeated quietly, and heeseung blinked twice before nodding. "o-okay. yeah, i can do that." he cleared his throat, looking over your shoulder into the foyer to ensure no one was opening the door. 

"are you sure? i mean, it's your first kiss, wouldn't you want to have it with someone special?" he's rambling, and your gentle laugh pulls him right back.

"you are special, hee." 

without another word, he backed you up against your kitchen counter, his hands on your hips as he softly kissed you. your hands were on his biceps, and he could feel your nervousness seep through your locked lips. he carefully circles your thighs to lift you onto the counter, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck before he breaks the kiss.

"how was that? okay?" his eyes searched yours, a shy smile playing on his swollen lips as you blinked. "uh, i'm not sure. i think–" "you want to try again?" his head tilted to the side, a habit you loved and eventually also caught. you nodded silently. his smile was wide as he closed the gap between the two of you, the hands on your thighs squeezing softly. once, twice, three times.

i love you.

your touch blurred my vision. it's your world, and i'm just in it…

you're both twenty one.

he remembers how he stared at his bedroom ceiling, clothes soaked in rain from prancing around the city with you. how piercing your words were, how he thought for so long that you believed in him. how all of these events he can't stop thinking about, are about you. how proud he was of you, how lucky he was to have you, how insane it was that you wanted him. you wanted him at one point.

how he didn't care that he got sick, but certainly didn't understand why your sore throat and stuffy nose didn't make him feel a pang of distress. how he didn't care that no one else was refuting his talent, because they weren't you. he didn't care about anyone else in this world, but you.

even sober, i'm not thinking straight…

you're both twenty two.

he remembers his birthday going abhorrently wrong. you weren't there, per usual – you were too wrapped up with school to give heeseung a second thought. he'd long realized that he didn't want to lose you, but it seemed that you no longer cared to keep the friendship alive. he still has the messages he sent you, and is still amazed at the lack of typos despite being absolutely shitfaced.

message to: my y/n <3 [2022.10.15 | 11:23pm] it's my birthday, baby. [2022.10.15 | 11:24pm] you can't be here for me today? [2022.10.15 | 11:24pm] i miss you. i miss our friendship. [2022.10.15 | 11:26pm] i can't believe you're missing my birthday. i never miss your birthdays. [2022.10.15 | 11:30pm] is this it? are we done?  [2022.10.15 | 11:34pm] when will you come back to me? when, how much longer? [2022.10.15 | 11:35pm] when you graduate? i can wait. (not delivered!) [2022.10.15 | 11:47pm] just tell me how long. i'll wait. (not delivered!)[2022.10.16 | 12:02am] i'd wait forever for you (not delivered!)

he changed his number after that. he still doesn't know how you got his new one. he doesn't care to ask, either.

cause i'm off my face, in love with you…

you're both twenty five.

he's watching you slow dance with your fiancé, fingers interlaced behind his neck as jake's hands rest on your hips. he hates the jealousy that boils in his stomach, but doesn't bother to break eye contact with the tile on the ceiling with water damage.

i'm out my head, so into you…

he can feel his fingers tightening around the microphone stand, but can't seem to stop his eyes from averting as jake spins you gently, before your soft giggle hits his ears. you look up at jake with what he can only assume is adoration, before resting your cheek on his shoulder. you're looking right at heeseung, mouthing along to the song.

and i don't know how you do it…

you're fixing your posture instead, still staring at heeseung as jake takes your hand in his, kissing your knuckles. you instinctively smile at the feeling, and heeseung's eyes zero in on your fingers as you squeeze jake's hand.

once, twice, three times. i love you.

but i'm forever ruined by you, ooh, ooh, ooh.

"i love you." your eyes haven't left heeseung as you whisper the words, and you can see the way his eyes fill with fire as he looks away. you get a twisted feeling of satisfaction in your gut, before finally averting your eyes back to your fiancé. jake is smiling softly at you, and you quickly close the gap between you as heeseung continues to sing. your lips press against jake's smoothly, before he swiftly moves away. "i can't wait to marry you tomorrow." he whispers.

"me, too."

liar.

may 02.

the wedding is in twenty minutes.

your pantyhose has ripped, you tripped going up the stairs. you're not even wearing your dress yet. there are storm clouds gathering, and you can’t help but feel like everything in the universe is working against you. the only thing holding you together is your mother, her arms are wrapped tightly around you.

“are you sure we can’t just run away and elope?” you mumble into her shoulder, and your mother laughs. “not anymore. but,” she pulls away from you, cradling your face in her hands gently. “i love you, honey. everything will be okay.”

you hate the churn in your stomach at the word everything. because if everything were okay, it'd be sunny. if everything were okay, you'd be staring down an aisle full of people and only see heeseung at the end of it. if everything were okay, you would've never said yes to that first date.

“i love you.” you repeat, your hand resting on her wrists as you nod robotically. “i’ll see you out there, okay?”

“okay.” you breathe out shakily as she presses her lips to your hairline, lingering slightly before pulling away and leaving your room. you were alone now, and you glanced out the window at all the guests gathering on the beach. everyone is dressed so brightly, bunches of pinks and lilacs scattered across the sand. jake is waiting patiently at the end of the aisle, the forest green of his suit making his skin glow slightly brighter. how he does it, you don't know.

and then you see heeseung.

he’s dressed in black, despite the theme of the wedding being floral and natural. you grimace, forcing yourself to look away before spotting your dress hanging on the back of the door. you'd have to shimmy into it on your own, having sent everyone out in a fit of anxiety.

sighing, you unhook the heavy dress from the door, carefully letting the skirt pool on the floor as you step into it. it slides on perfectly, and you can't help but lose your breath at the sudden weight of the world on your chest. you're getting married, and you love jake.

but he'll never, ever be heeseung.

"tighten up, y/n. you've got this." you shake your head, reaching back and forcing the zipper up as high as you could. you had a hook-and-eye closure at the top, something you'd simply have to forego if you wanted to make it downstairs on time. groaning to yourself, you attempt to pull up the zipper just a bit more, before giving up and covering it with your veil. grabbing your bouquet, you give yourself a final glance in the mirror.

"you've got this. everything will be okay." 

your voice is shaky, but you swing your room door open anyway – only to be met with heeseung on the other side. his eyes widen, mouth slightly agape as you come into his view. "wow, you look…" "what are you doing here? you're supposed to be downstairs." you scold, shoving your keycard into the pocket of your dress. oh yeah, you've got it like that. "your mom asked me to come see what was taking so long. i told her you'd be down soon, but she insisted." he shrugs, so nonchalantly.

like none of this is eating away at him.

"ugh, whatever. come on." your tone is angry, but your face shows nothing but fear. his eyes follow as you storm towards the elevator, seeing the zipper of your dress slowly sliding down as you reach the doors. "here, hold on."

his fingers move your veil carefully as you step into the elevator, before pulling the fabric tighter together and pulling the zipper to the top. he carefully clasps the closure, and you swear you feel every hair on your body sticking up when his fingertips gently graze your back. "don't touch me, heeseung."

"i'm trying to help you. otherwise, you'd flash that entire crowd." he scoffs, pressing the floor button. you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself as the elevator becomes silent. the tension is thick between you, you know it. your eyes never leave the neon sign, watching the floor numbers go by before heeseung reaches over and pulls the emergency lever.

"what the fuck are you doing?! i'm already late!" you gasp, hitting his arm with your bouquet when he stands in front of the lever. "i can't let you do this unless you hear what i have to say."

"heeseung, i'm getting married. this is the biggest day of my life–" your whining is cut short by his hand on your mouth, and only then do you see the unshed tears in his eyes. "the biggest day of my life was when i met you on that stupid playground. i never, ever in my life thought our friendship would end this way, and you know what, it makes me kind of sick."

he breathes deeply, removing his hand from your face as he sees the shock in your eyes. "you're saying you're already late to your big day, well i just want to say i beat you in that department. i've never had a problem with punctuality, but i really missed the mark on this one." his chuckle is dry, humorless as he looks at the bouquet in your hand. "i don't think i'll get over this, ever. i'll never get the chance to be in his place. but," he steps back, fingers gripping the emergency lever in his hand.

"i want you to know that it should be me. i should be the one waiting for you at the end of the aisle. i should be the one who gets to love you until the end of my days, and even then, you'd never die. you'd be loved by me forever, the evidence strewn all over the world in compositions and lyrics. i would never let you die."

he pushes the lever back, before moving back to his original spot next to you. the elevator doors open, revealing an empty lobby. the storm clouds are no longer that far away, and you can feel the humidity through the open plan of the resort.

"i am foolishly, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you. and i hope you realize this is the biggest mistake of your life." his voice is soft, as is his smile when he offers his hand. "here's to your forever, my love."

you say nothing.

🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊

if heeseung was anything, it was a sick bastard. a sick, rat bastard who had no shame. your mother took you from his arm at the end of the aisle, and you didn't even realize you'd allowed him to lead you there. jake's eyes shone with what could only be identified as jealousy.

he smiled the entire ceremony, clapping and whistling alongside your other guests through the vows. the sappy vows jake had penned were poetic compared to yours, but he knew what you meant anyway. you felt several fat raindrops plop onto your head and shoulders, while heeseung had come prepared and shared his umbrella with your mother.

he even helped her inside once the rain really started pouring, just after your first kiss as a married couple. your stomach was boiling over in fury as you watched him laugh with her, his eyes only meeting yours once with a soft smile. 

you and jake slipped away to change into your reception clothing, his suit jacket abandoned and sleeves rolled up, showing off the watch you got him for his birthday. your ballroom white dress, now stained with sand, was traded in for an a-line style. jake met you in front of the resort, his fingers curled in yours when he finally spoke.

"we really did it, huh." he says quietly, his eyes scanning the shut doors of the reception venue. you nod, your breath caught in your throat when he takes a step back, his hand squeezing yours. "two years." your ears twitch at this. "what?" "all i ask for is two years. we can have a kid. we'll have an heir to our wills. we can get divorced after two years, and you can be with him." he breathes, eyes following the pattern on the heavy wooden door. you choke out a scoff of disbelief, your throat burning. "what the fuck are you talking about, jaeyun?" he winces at the use of his name, so used to gentle baby and sweetened honey. a sigh escapes his lips as he turns to face you. "i know you love him, y/n. you don't have to hide it from me. you wouldn't have brought him all the way out here, you wouldn't have gone behind my back and changed the plans for the band. your mom loves him, for crying out loud. i never stood a chance." he chuckles sadly, and your tears are hot as they flow down your face.

"how can you say that, jaeyun? i'm married to you, i've chosen you, over anything and anyone in this world! how can you say such things?!" your hurt is evident, but he can't figure out if it's because of the little blame game or if it's because you truly, deeply love him. he doesn't know what to say, but reaches to wipe your tears. you jerk away, a frown etched on your glossed lips as you wipe them yourself. you take a deep breath, grabbing the door knob.

"fix your face." you mutter, a tone jake had never received from you as he sighed, painting a smile of everything's okay on his face as the two of you threw the doors open in unison. your crowd of guests cheered loudly, rice flying everywhere as they welcomed you in. the band was loudly playing got to be real by cheryl lynn, and you almost forget jake's painful words behind the door. you almost forget that heeseung will be queueing up to sing for you and your husband, for free, on the very stage you're now standing in front of. 

jungwon hands you a microphone and two champagne flutes, before slinking away to his seat. you hand one to jake, who swirls it nervously.

"wow, it's such an honor to have all of our loved ones here today." your voice is shaky as you take them all in, dozens of eyes staring you down. "i mean, i've waited for this day since i was a little girl. it's a blessing to finally see it in color, in person. thank you." jake breathes in deeply, before looking away to blink back tears. "i'm not crying, my eyes are just sweating." he speaks into the microphone, earning an empathetic laugh from the guests, your hand ghosts over his back, and he stiffens at it. "i'm so…so terribly in love with y/n. i can't believe this day is real." a soft aww echoes in the room, your chest tightening as you see heeseung sitting next to your mother. he's cooing with everyone else. "and i can't wait to be a man that is continuously worthy of her love. to y/n." 

you almost burst into tears as everyone raises their drinks to you, the clink of glasses adding to the emotion as you and jake find your seats at the end of the hall. you sit gingerly, holding jake's hand under the table tightly. "i love you, jake." "i love you, y/n."

🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊

the speeches were a mess. jay was a mess of tears, and minjeong spewed bullshit about the two of you being like sisters. heeseung hadn't met her until five minutes after the ceremony, and if you had been close to anyone enough to consider them a sibling, he'd know them. no one knew you like he did.

"and now, for the newlyweds' first dance! we have a very special guest singing for us today, please give a warm welcome and round of applause to y/n's longest friend, lee heeseung!" 

he smiled nervously as he took the stage, a puffy-eyed jay sitting behind him as he tested the microphone. "thank you for having me, and congratulations to the newlyweds. y/n, i'm eternally proud of you and so grateful to be here on your special day. i love you." none of the guests know it means something more to him, to you, as they let out an aww. how heartwarming, that your lifelong best friend was here for you. how lovely, that he was supporting you every step of the way.

he sang carefully, watching as you and jake held each other tightly, swaying to the song. he can hear your sniffle, a soft sob into jake's shoulder as he lovingly strokes your back. he looks away.

it should be him.

it should be heeseung, that gets to see you wear white. it should be heeseung, that gets to plan a tedious wedding at your instruction. it should be heeseung that gets to take you on a romantic honeymoon and spend all day in the sun and all night glued to your bed. it should be heeseung that gets to shampoo your hair for you when you're feeling too tired, it should be heeseung that gets to watch you put lipstick on in the morning just to ruin it before you're out the door. 

it should be him. and everyone knows it, no matter if they know your history or not.

"thank you, everyone. let's hear it for the newlyweds!"

october 15.

"hey."

it's been over a year since your wedding. you and jake had happily posted tons of wedding photos, piled over with honeymoon flicks. you and heeseung hadn't spoken since the wedding. he left right after the first dance, catching the first ferry back to seoul. he didn't bother contacting you to see if you'd made it back safely, he didn't bother to message you a happy birthday when it came around. he just didn't care.

he dropped out of college for the second time, and spent the summer going around seoul auditioning for companies. decelis entertainment finally gave him a break, and only after he got his contract did he find out that jake and all of his friends were also at this company.

he was polite in the hallways. he smiled, he waved, he engaged in small talk and perused the past. he didn't ask questions, he didn't initiate. he spent his time holed away in the studio with a producer named yeonjun, recording for hours on end without a break. he was set to debut in two weeks, having dropped his first teaser just two days prior.

all without you to cheer him on.

"what are you doing here?" his voice was cold, nothing you weren't used to at this point. his hair wasn't red anymore, now a natural chocolate brown. it suited him. "came to visit, heard from jake that you've been training for a year." "what's it to you?"

he's being harsh, he knows he's being harsh.

"hey, y/n. nice to see you." jake calls from across the hall, exiting his studio with jay and sunghoon in tow. the two of them seem to say nothing at the sudden casualties between you and jake, or the insinuation that he hadn't seen you in a while. heeseung gives you a glance, your hands holding a gift and a grocery bag. "may i come in?" "i'm busy, at the moment." he coughs, ignoring the way your eyes roll. "too busy for a slice of cake?" you hold up a bag in your fingers, and his eyes narrow. he leans back into the studio, his eyes scanning the calendar for any potential special dates. he's not even flipped to the right month, the calendar reading july.

"shit, did i miss something?" he whips out his phone, which you simply cover with your hand. a soft laugh escapes your lips as you lift your other hand, the gift bag screaming happy birthday in gold glitter flashing at him. "oh, man." he moves away from the door, allowing you to walk in. you look around, and although the studio doesn't belong to him, it sure smells like him. it looks like him, it's covered in him, it feels like home.

"happy birthday, hee." you say gently, setting the gift down on the couch and slowly sitting down to unwrap his cake. "i know it's not much, but i'm barely here." you chuckle, tapping your temple as he takes a seat in his desk chair. he's wary, you can tell.

"something on your mind?" "why are you here? i debut in two weeks, i don't need any bullshit." he rubs his temples, and you only frown. "you know, once upon a time, you would've been happy to have me here." your tone is pointed, and heeseung sighs. "fine, fine. i'm sorry."

"i'm the one who should be sorry." you murmur, and heeseung says nothing. he knows you're right. 

you're both quiet, before heeseung notices the candle next to the cake. he rolls the chair over, his fingers carefully centering the candle. "have you got a light?" 

you shake your head no, a sheepish look in your eyes. "i'm sorry. we can pretend, if that's okay?" he hates the way his lips twitch into a smile at your wide eyes. "yeah, we can pretend." 

you sing for him softly, your cheek squished into your hand as you lean on the armrest. he closes his eyes, making a wish and blowing the makeshift flame out. "what'd you wish for?" you yawn, and he shakes his head.

"won't come true if i tell you." shrugging, he rolls back over to his desk, leaving the cake on the table. you just make a noise of agreement, before a sigh slips past you. "i heard your teaser, you know." he doesn't care to react, only giving you a short sound. "mhm?" "is it about me?" you ask, and he straightens in his chair before spinning around to face you. "all my songs are about you. every single one of them." he gestures to a tattered journal on the soundboard. it's covered in stickers, and…a taped photo of you and him as toddlers. "oh."

"i mean what i say, y/n." he rolls his eyes, before spinning back around. "if it were me, i'd never let you die."

but it is you, you think. it's always been you.

"why did jake say it was nice to see you?" he asks, too cowardly to look you in the eyes. he hears your sigh, before hearing you shift around on the couch. he spins around again, only to see you have removed your shoes and tucked your legs beneath you. his eyes scan you, before looking at your fingers. your ring is gone, replaced by a chunky painite stone in silver. your eyes are gently burning into him, and he shivers in the warmth. "well…why?" "before the reception, he told me he knew." you shrug, "he knew how you felt about me, and how i allegedly felt about you. he brought up my mother, and how he felt like he'd never stood a chance." 

"but he did. you married him, after all." heeseung rolls his eyes as you shrug, blinking slowly as you speak again. "we gave it a good shot. maybe i should've listened to all those superstitions, they're not such bullshit. the tripping, the rain, god, the way my ring was too tight." you scoff sadly, before glancing back up at him.

he seems to understand. if he doesn't, he doesn't say anything. sighing, you reach over to rustle the gift bag with your fingers. "you've got to open this, you know." 

"y/n, i can't do this." he breathes out, eyes screwed shut. "i can't sit here with you and pretend like we're all good, like you're not married to the same guy i share a company with. we stopped being friends a long time ago, what are you trying to do here?" "i'm not trying to do anything but reconnect. i fully accepted the fact that whether or not you're with me, you're still someone i love. i spent years trying to figure out why you drifted away from me, and then jake and i sat down at our dinner table a few weeks ago after meeting with the lawyer and he asked me about our friendship. so i told him everything, from the very beginning."

heeseung can't breathe as you get up, walking towards him and slowly sinking into a squat. your hands are on his knees, giving a gentle squeeze before you speak.

"i'm sorry i made it seem like i had no faith in you. i said horrible things to you, even if they seemed right to me, and i'm so sorry that it took someone else to tell me that i'd treated you so badly that day." 

his eyes are brimming with tears, but he looks away from you. he can't cry, not now, not in front of you. 

"you've always been like that, though." he murmurs, picking at his cuticles when you carefully take his hands in yours. he suppresses a sob as the warmth of you envelopes his fingers, "i was projecting. i thought that everyone had to be like me, that everyone had to have a plan. some people are just better at flying by the seat of their pants, i mean, look at all you've accomplished despite me saying such shitty things to you. you're about to debut, you're going to see great success. everyday i'm rooting for you, even if i'm not the person you go home to."

you give his hands a firm squeeze. once, twice, three times. i love you.

"are you divorced?" 

you scoff out a soft laugh, looking down at his jeans. "jake and i haven't been together since the wedding. we spent the honeymoon playing mermaids and crying over whiskey sours."

"i can't forgive you right now." he confesses, making your head snap up to look at him. he swallows hard, "i can't forgive you right now, because i'm still mad at you. for saying those things to me, and…and you hurt me, when you asked me to sing for your wedding. it hurt me a lot, y/n." "i'm sorry, hee." you whisper, your thumbs wipe at the tears spilling from his eyes. he leans into your touch, before pulling away. "i know you are, y/n. i know."

he gently pushes away, offering his hand to help you up. you take it, and he waits for you to put your shoes on before leading you back to the door. "i'll call you, okay? when i'm ready."

you step out of the studio, peering up at him with sad eyes. "you promise?"

he sighs, nodding his head. "i promise, baby."

BABEYUN © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader? Their son, Jack always wanted a pet but with them traveling the world for the races, it was not possible. But when Charles recently adopted Leo, Jack asks his mother to help him. Knowing Toto wouldn't say no to her. With "indistinguishable squeaky noises' when Jack got what he wanted all along. And "Aww! A PUPPY!". They both give Toto a very crushing hug. Just major fluff and cute. You decide how it goes. Thanks!! :))

Here you go! Enjoy reading it and I also add a small part of SMAU 🤭, well, since lots of you guys have been sending me texts telling me how much you like it! I read it all and I cherished each and every message. Love you all!

Jack was on a mission. He had been begging his parents for a pet for months now, but with their busy lives full of Formula One travels, it was impossible. He knew his dad would probably say no, but his mom was a softie when it came to family, especially him. So he went to her with a pleading look in his eyes.

"Mama, can we get a puppy?"

She smiled at his eagerness, knowing that she would have to be the one to persuade Toto. She lowered down in front of her son, ruffling his hair playfully. "Sweetie, you know your dad has a lot on his plate with work, right?" Jack pouted, his shoulders slumping. "I know, but I really want a puppy! Please, Mama? Can't you talk to Papa?" he asked, his eyes wide and hopeful. She chuckled softly, unable to resist his adorable expression. "Alright, alright," she relented. "I'll talk to him."

Jack's face lit up with excitement, his eyes widening. "Really? You'll talk to Papa?"

His mother nodded, laughing softly. "Yes, I'll talk to him," she assured him. "But don't get your hopes too high, okay? Your Papa is a bit of a hardass." Jack's expression soured slightly at her words, but he quickly brightened. "But you'll convince him, right?"

She chuckled again, ruffling his hair once more. "I'll do my best."

Over the next few days, she thought about how to approach the topic with Toto. She knew he was a bit of a worrywart when it came to Jack's safety, and a puppy was a big responsibility.

Finally, one evening while they were having dinner together, she decided to bring it up. "Toto," she began, her tone casual.

Toto looked at her, his gaze curious. "Yes, Liebe?" he replied, taking a sip of his wine.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for his response. "Jack has been asking me for a pet," she said, watching his reaction closely.

Toto raised an eyebrow, his expression immediately becoming wary. "A pet? Like a dog or a cat?" he asked, setting his glass back down on the table.

She shrugged lightly, trying to appear nonchalant. "I think he's set on a puppy," she replied, gauging his reaction.

Toto's expression darkened slightly, but he didn't immediately shut down the idea. "We travel constantly," he said, his tone pragmatic. "How exactly would we care for a puppy on the road?"

She had expected this argument, and she was ready with a counter-point. "I've been thinking about that," she said quickly. "We could hire a dog walker or a pet sitter whenever we can't be there."

Toto frowned, his expression unconvinced. "It's not just about the physical care," he countered. "What about training and socialization? A puppy takes time and effort to raise."

She bit her lower lip, realizing that his concerns were valid. "I know it won't be easy," she acknowledged, her tone earnest. "But Jack has been such a good kid, and he's wanted a pet for so long."

Toto sighed, his expression softening. "I know he has, but can't just adopt a puppy on a whim."

She nodded, understanding his point but not willing to give up just yet. "I'm not suggesting we adopt one right now," she reassured him. "But we could at least talk about it, right?"

Toto leaned back in his chair, considering her words. "Alright, I'll listen," he said finally. "But you need to convince me why this is a good idea."

She took another deep breath, thankful that he was at least willing to listen. "Having a puppy could be good for Jack's development," she began. "It would teach him responsibility, and he would have a companion to help him deal with the stress of our travels."

Toto raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "You think a puppy will help manage stress?" he asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.

"Having a puppy to play with and snuggle up with might make his time on the road a bit more bearable."

Toto considered her words, his expression slowly softening. "Alright, I'll give you that," he agreed reluctantly.

His resistance was starting to crumble, and she could see that she was slowly winning him over. "And don't forget," she added with a smirk, "puppies are incredibly cute. Just imagine how happy it would make Jack."

Toto rolled his eyes playfully, a small smile creeping onto his lips. "You're playing dirty, Liebe" he accused her.

She chuckled, loving the banter between them. "I'm just speaking the truth," she responded, her tone innocent. "A puppy would be a wonderful addition to our family."

Toto let out a small huff, a mixture of resignation and affection. "You're really not going to let this go, are you?" he asked, his expression resigned but fond.

She shook her head, a sly smile on her lips. "Not until we at least consider it," she said, leaning forward slightly.

Toto couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his lips. "You're relentless," he said, his tone admiring rather than annoyed. "But you always know how to get what you want, don't you?" 

She smirked, knowing she had won the argument. "It takes a special skill to handle a stubborn man like you," she teased, her voice flirty.

Toto rolled his eyes once more, his expression a mix of amusement and defeat. "You're lucky I love you," he said, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Throughout their conversation, their voices never rose above a quiet whisper, so as not to alert their son that they were discussing his request. Jack was currently upstairs in his room, presumably doing his homework or playing with his toys.

With a conspiratorial smile, she leaned in closer toward Toto. "Jack is already prepared for a puppy," she replied, giggling softly. "He's spent hours online watching puppy videos. Also, he had spent quite some time playing with Leo last week, and did not stop talking about it ever since.” 

Just then, a small voice called out from the staircase. "Mama?"

She looked up to see Jack standing there, a hopeful expression on his face. "Yes, sweetie?" she asked, knowing exactly what he was about to ask.

Jack looked between her and Toto, his eyes slightly widened. "Did you talk to Papa about the puppy?" he asked, his voice filled with anticipation.

She smiled warmly at her son, her heart swelling with affection. She looked over at her husband, who was still leaning back in his chair, a resigned expression on his face.

"We've been discussing it," she replied to Jack, her tone light.

Jack's eyes widened even further, his whole body practically vibrating with excitement. "And what did Papa say?" he asked, barely able to contain himself.

Toto let out a soft sigh, knowing that he was outnumbered in this situation. He couldn't help but feel a pang of affection for his wife and son, especially when they both gave him those big, pleading eyes.

"We're considering it," he spoke up, his tone resigned but fond.

Jack let out a small gasp, his expression filled with glee. He practically bounced from foot to foot, his excitement barely contained.

"Considering it" seemed to be enough for Jack, as he squealed in delight and practically ran over to Toto, wrapping his small arms around his father's waist in a tight hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Jack repeated, his voice muffled against Toto's shirt.

Toto chuckled, returning his son's embrace. "Don't celebrate just yet," he warned, his tone mock-stern.

Despite his words, Toto's expression was softened, and his arms remained around his son. He was unable to resist the infectious joy that filled Jack's face.

She couldn't help but smile at the sight of her husband and son, their bond evident even in this brief moment. She knew that once they brought a puppy into the mix, their family would be complete.

Toto slowly extracted himself from Jack's embrace, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"But there are some conditions," he said firmly, his tone serious.

Jack looked up at his father, his expression a mixture of curiosity and wariness. "Conditions?" he asked, his voice a little quieter than before.

Toto nodded, his expression still stern. "Yes, conditions. If we're going to have a puppy, there are certain things we need to take into consideration."

Jack nodded, his eyes wide and intently fixed on his father. "Like what?" he asked, his voice a little meek.

Toto ticked off the conditions on his fingers as he spoke.

"First, we need to decide on a breed that fits our lifestyle. We can't have a high-energy dog that we can't keep up with."

He paused for a moment before continuing. "Second, you'll need to help take care of the puppy. That means feeding, walking, and cleaning up after it."

Jack nodded vigorously, his expression determined. "I can do that! I promise!"

Toto chuckled softly, impressed by his son's determination and acceptance of the conditions.

He looked at his wife, who smiled warmly at him, then back at his son, his heart feeling a mix of amusement and affection.

"Yes, that's all," he answered, his voice soft. "If you're still willing to accept those conditions, we'll consider getting a puppy."

As Toto spoke, Jack's expression slowly shifted from determination to excitement. He looked up at his father, barely able to contain himself.

"So that means we can get a puppy now?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

Toto chuckled, shaking his head indulgently. "Not just yet, maybe tomorrow" he replied, his tone gentle.

A few weeks had passed since the discussions had concluded, and the day finally arrived when they would bring home their new puppy. Jack was practically vibrating with excitement, his face pressed against the car window as they made their way home.

Finally, they arrived at their house, and Jack all but pounced out of the car, running towards the front door. Toto and his wife followed more leisurely, their hearts filled with equal measures of anticipation and amusement.

When they entered the house, Jack froze in his tracks, his eyes widening at the sight in the living room. There, sitting in the middle of the room, was a small, fuzzy puppy, its wagging tail a blur.

Jack stared at the puppy in awe, barely able to speak. "Is… is that for me?" he asked, his voice soft and trembling with emotion.

Toto chuckled, ruffling his son's hair affectionately. "That's right. That's your new best friend."

Jack slowly made his way towards the puppy, his steps hesitant yet eager. The puppy looked up at him with curious eyes, its little tail still wagging excitedly.

Jack knelt down in front of the puppy, slowly holding out his hand. The puppy sniffed his hand curiously, then licked it, causing Jack to giggle happily.

"Can I hold it?" he asked, looking up at his parents with wide, pleading eyes.

Toto chuckled, his expression fond as he watched his son interact with the puppy. "Of course," he replied, his voice soft.

Jack carefully scooped up the puppy in his arms, cradling it against his chest like a precious treasure. The puppy wriggled a little, settling into a comfortable position in Jack's embrace, its eyes drifting closed in contentment.

Jack looked up at his parents, a huge grin on his face. "I love him already," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and affection.

Jack wandered into the garage, the puppy trotting after him on its little legs. The puppy looked curiously around the unfamiliar surroundings, its eyes wide and curious.

Jack settled down against a wall, leaning back against the cool, smooth surface, and patted his lap, gesturing for the puppy to come closer. The puppy obeyed, clambering up onto Jack's lap and nestling in comfortably.

Toto entered the garage, a fond smile on his face as he watched the interaction between his son and the puppy. Toto leaned against a workbench, folding his arms across his chest as he observed Jack and the puppy. The puppy had completely relaxed in Jack's lap, its head resting on the boy's thigh. It looked up at Jack with adoring eyes, its tail thumping quietly against the ground.

Jack was completely enamoured, his eyes fixated on the puppy in his lap. He stroked the puppy's soft fur gently, murmuring to it softly. Toto shook his head slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You two are quite the pair already," he commented, his voice filled with amusement.

Jack looked up at his father, his expression filled with joy. "Scout's so soft," he whispered, still stroking the puppy's fur. "And he's so smart. He learns things quickly."

The puppy looked up at Toto, its eyes seeming to sparkle with a hint of mischief.

“Papa, can we go out and play? Maybe me and Scout can find Leo.” Jack asked.

“Sure, buddy. But please watch out and be careful.” 

Jack and the puppy were out and exploring the paddock. Suddenly, they heard the sound of playful barking and saw Roscoe and Leo running towards them.

Roscoe and Leo bounded over to Scout and Jack, their tails wagging happily. The three dogs sniffed each other curiously, tails wagging in a friendly greeting.

Lewis and Charles watched as their dogs interacted with Jack and the puppy, a mix of amusement and fondness on their faces. Lewis chuckled softly as he watched Roscoe playfully pounce on the puppy, while Charles watched as Leo and the puppy sniffed each other curiously.

"Looks like they're already forming a pack," Lewis commented, grinning as he watched the dogs playfully wrestle together.

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and others

y/n_user Say hello to our newest member in the Wolff family, his name's Scout Wolff

mercedesamgf1 Hello fur boss

user1 SCOUTS SO CUTE !!!

user2 New bestfr

user4 this is adorable

georgerussell63: scout 100%

maxverstappen1: 🐈's better

mercedesamgf1 🐺's better y/n_user Thanks admin redbullracing 🐂's better scuderiaferrari 🐎's better

carmenmmundt bring him to the race, wifey 🤩

lilymhe and I will bring my kids too, wifey 😚 alex_albon yours? kids?? wifey??? y/n_user yes, and 🤨 that's my wives right there! mercedesamgf1 wives? Liebe, we need to talk - toto wolff lewishamilton last time I checked I went to y/n's wedding only, not sure who she got married to

landonorris when can I visit Scout

y/n_user anytime little lando norris 🤭 oscarpiastri CAN you adopt me so that I can have Austria as my home race to🥺 y/n_user where can I sign 🙌🏻 oscar piastri-leclerc-wolff has a nice ring to it mercedesamgf1 Liebe? We have our child already? - toto wolff y/n_user the more the merrier AND give the acc back to the poor admin pls

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, oscarpiastri, and others.

y/n_user Studied so hard so Daddy took us to the beach 🌊

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[authorhjk1]

SNSD Village

Season 1 Episode 2 : A busy Sunday

(Tiffany X Yoona X Eunha X Minju X Male Reader)

You check your phone as you walk out of your room. After waking up, your throat is feeling kinda dry, so you’re on your way to the kitchen. It seems like Tiffany sent you a message an hour ago. You smile when you read what it says. She wants to make another video. She uploaded the other two yesterday. 

“I got some positive feedback, so why not go for another round?”

“I’m down, but I was gonna head to the gym later.”

You remember that you also have to work on your homework with Minju and Eunha separately today. Your Sunday is already packed.

You sigh as you walk down the stairs. Maybe you shouldn’t have slept this long.

“No problem. Meet me there.”

Raising an eyebrow at Tiffany’s message, you reach the end of the stairs. What is she up to? Does she expect you to sleep with her at the gym? You have to admit, you’ve never really had sex in public. But maybe, if no one is there…

You get yourself a much needed glass of water, before leaning against the fridge in the kitchen. While you drink, you quickly respond to Tiffany.

“Would you mind putting some clothes on?”

Your mom is now coming down the stairs. She told you last night that she has an important meeting at another company on Tuesday, which means she will be out of the house until then. 

“I just woke up.”

You see that Eunha sent you a message too. Probably about the homework she has to do.

“That doesn’t mean you can just walk around in your underwear.”

Lifting your head, you earn a disapproving look from your mom.

“Especially when my assistant is here.”

Your heartbeat stops for a second, before you turn towards the living room. There she is. Chou Tzuyu gives you a slim, but visibly amused smile. Now you’re very aware of the fact that you really are almost completely naked. But you try to play it off. In your eyes, you’ve worked out more than enough recently, to feel comfortable in your own skin.

“Good morning, Miss Chou.”

“Good morning, Mr. Seo.”

You smile at her, hoping you don’t look awkward.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

Now she looks around you, focusing on your mom.

“Ms. Seo? We need to leave now, if we want to catch the plane.”

“Right, Right. Give me one more minute, Tzuyu. Why don’t you start the car? I will be there in a moment.”

Chou Tzuyu slightly bows in your direction, before heading towards the door.

“Behave yourself.”

You turn around, your mom now grabbing a cup of coffee Tzuyu probably bought her on her way.

“Mom, you don’t have to tell me that, everytime you’re gone for a couple of days.”

“Oh, really? Do you want to go over this again?”

You roll your eyes.

“Good. Now, Jisoo will be staying with you two, while I’m gone. And I will ask her what you’ve been up to, once I’m back, got it?”

“Yes, mom.”

You finish the water and place the glass on the counter.

“She will be here in two hours. So please stay here with Seri until then.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

Your mother grabs her purse and walks past you.

“Give me a kiss.”

She smiles at you, before presenting you her cheek.

“Mom. I’m not a child.”

A glare from her makes you shut up and place a kiss on her cheek.

“Have a safe flight.”

You mumble, before you watch her heading out.

“I’m struggling with homework. Could you maybe come over and we can do it together?”

You read Eunha’s message as you walk back upstairs. You already planned on doing homework with Minju today and now you are determined to not miss out on going to the gym. So you first think about saying no. But maybe the three of you could work together?

“I have a lot of stuff to do today. But I was going to do the homework with Minju anyway. I’m gonna ask her if it’s okay if you join us.”

“Thanks, oppa. I appreciate it.”

You send Minju a message, before taking a shower and getting dressed.

“Oppa, I’m hungry.”

“I know. You already told me that.”

You reach for a drawer and take out Seri’s favorite snack. Cookies. 

“But only two. Jisoo will be here later and she will make you lunch.”

You hand Seri the cookies. You watch her as she starts to munch on them. They aren’t big, at least for you, but Seri is holding one with both hands.

“You’re cute.”

You pat her head, before opening the fridge.

“Thanks, oppa. I get that a lot.”

“Really?”

You barely suppress a laugh as you fix her a glass of milk.

“Yes. Mom says it everyday.”

“She is not wrong.”

You slide the glass over the table.

“But she never says it to you.”

“Yeah, because I'm not as small as you, shorty.”

After taking your mom’s leftovers from last night out of the fridge, you put them in the microwave.

“I think you’re cute, oppa.”

“Well, thank you, Seri.”

You lean against the fridge as you watch her take on the second cookie. She threw a fit, when your mom bought a different kind than usual a week ago. But it seems like Seri has forgotten all about that already. Actually, she even declared that these are now her favorite. 

The sound of the front door opening makes you look up from your phone. Minju just texted you that she is fine with Eunha being there too. But since her sister has a friend over, the three of you can’t work at her house. After informing Eunha, she happily invited the two of you to come over to her place.

“Oh god, yes! Make them watch!”

Tiffany cries out as you keep up the pace. She is bent over the big, silver stability ball. Only her hands and feet are touching the ground.

After you’re little roleplay a couple of minutes ago, you are now fucking her from behind, while filming her with one of her cameras. Tiffany made you pretend to walk in on her pilates class and then accused you of staring at her inappropriately. After some back and forth, she then acted surprised by your visibly hard cock in your shorts, completely forgetting about the imaginary people who are attending her class. She said something about adding some chatter and gasps here and there during editing, to really make it seem like there are more people in the room.

But right now, it’s only the two of you.The second camera is placed between you and Tiffany and the other people, filming her from the front, while you capture the view of her ass from behind. She is still wearing her white sports bra, but the sweater she tied around her waist is already lying in some corner of the pilates room. Her white leggings are only pulled down to her knees, so her ass and thighs are exposed.

Being stuck in this compromising position means for her, that she can’t do anything, but take your pounding like a good pilates instructor.

You hear her nails scratch on the wooden floor as you tighten your grip on her waist. Pushing her forward a little, you make sure that her cleavage is perfectly captured by the other camera. You put the camera you were holding down on the floor to your left, making sure it films the both of you. Now that you have two free hands, you hold her waist with both of them, squeezing her skin, as you fuck her as hard as you can. The sounds of your hips meeting her nice, tight ass echo through the room, accompanied by her moans. 

“You like being watched, huh?”

You give her right cheek a slap.

“Yes, make me your bitch.”

Tiffany whines as you give her another spank.

You lean over her a little more, pressing her body further into the plastic ball. Tiffany lets out a deep breath as the air gets forced out of her body. Another spank makes Tiffany’s head drop. Her weak body is getting thrown around by your thrusts, her face now covered by her hair.

“Don’t hide.”

You reach down, pulling her head up by her hair. Tiffany groans in pain and pleasure as she feels her scalp burning and your cock sending spikes of ecstasy through her body.

“Let them watch.”

Another hard and deep thrust from you makes Tiffany’s whole body sink further into the ball. It enables you to reach forward with your other hand as well. Now, one is holding her hair in a fist, while the other is rudely holding onto her chin.

“Let them see what a whore you are for my cock.”

You are speaking through your teeth by now. Tiffany’s pussy is slowly becoming too much for you to handle. Her wet slick is making it so easy for you to fuck her hard, so now you’re in way too deep.

This wasn’t your idea to begin with. This over the top degrading and manhandling her. That was all Tiffany. To use her words:

“Use me like a toy. I want this to look really dirty.”

And now you’re holding her hair and jaw, while fucking her from behind, making her groan and moan into the camera in front of her.

“Yes! Fuck me deeper, please!”

It’s hard for Tiffany to talk with your hand on her chin, but she still manages to do so, earning a couple of particularly deep thrusts from you.

“Tell them how much you love it. Beg for it.”

You pull her hair a little harder, making Tiffany yelp in response.

“I need it! I love your cock!”

You take a step closer, so you’re now almost standing above her ass, instead of behind her.

“I can’t live without it anymore! Please! Give it to me!”

When she first explained how nasty this was gonna get, you wondered why she would do something like this. But now, her way too exaggerated words even turn you on. They make you treat her even rougher.

“I’m gonna cum so deep inside of you.”

“Oh, gosh! Please breed me! I want to show how well I can take your cum!”

You untangle your hand from her hair and place it on her chin as well. Now, you’re holding her jaw with both hands as you fuck her from behind, arching her back like a bow. Her cleavage is on display for the camera once more. But the only thing you care about right now is to finally cum inside of her. 

Tiffany’s cries and whines have been reduced to weak moans, because she can’t open her mouth properly. You fuck her as hard as you can, feeling how her pussy is squeezing your cock. How her walls are trying to coax you into breeding her.

And finally, you do exactly that. You paint Tiffany’s pink walls with your sticky cum. A comfortable warmth spreads through her body as it welcomes your seed. You thrust as quickly into her as before, but with much less power. You’re falling off your high, your thrusts chasing after every tiny bit of pleasure you can get from Tiffany’s cum filled pussy.

“Oh wow.”

Tiffany laughs, back to her old self.

“Seems like you got really into it at the end there. Nice touch with holding my jaw. I liked it.”

You feel a weird sense of pride as Tiffany compliments you.

“Thank you.”

You look down as you slowly start to pull out of her. Yeji’s mom doesn’t move, even when your cum starts to run down her thighs. Only a weak moan escapes her lips.

“Do you need a hand?”

A proud smile is playing around your lips.

“Don’t act all cocky. “

Tiffany is still facing away from you, but she probably heard it in your voice.

“Just give me a moment.”

Once she gets off the ball, you hand her the pack of tissues that she brought in her bag. You watch her clean herself. Even after just fucking her, you can’t help but admire her body. You wonder if you will ever get tired of it. 

“Let me change into something else and then we can go again?”

“Again?”

You didn’t expect her to be this into it. But then again, it is basically how she makes a living. So it does make sense that she wants to shoot as much content as possible in one go.

“What? You can’t keep up?”

Tiffany’s teasing smile makes you shake your head.

“I can go for another round right now.”

You step closer again.

“I see.”

With the same smile, Tiffany reaches down and wraps a hand around your cock.

“Fucking a younger guy really has it’s benefits.”

You feel her stroking you and you reach down to let a finger glide along her labia.

“Damn.”

She sighs, her voice already shaking a little, her pussy still sensitive from the rough pounding she just took.

“Just let me get changed.”

Tiffany shoots a more seductive smile your way.

“Trust me, you’ll love it.”

You already thought that Tiffany looked amazing in the outfit she wore for the first video. But you feel yourself getting fully hard as soon as you see her standing in the door again. The white sports bra doesn’t just show off her nicely shaped bust, but also her tight midriff. You have to admit that, despite her age, Tiffany really has an amazing body. Her legs are clad in black leggings, which are mostly hidden by the black and yellow jacket she tied around her waist.

“Alright, young man. You up for round two?”

“Yeah.”

You try to sound relaxed, but you’re sure Tiffany heard that your voice was an octave higher than usual.

“Now, this will be the second part of the video we did yesterday. ‘My daughter’s classmate is back to work me out again’”

“Well, that’s a catchy title.”

It does sound a little over the top. But you do have to admit, if you saw that title on some porn site with Tiffany on the thumbnail, you’d click on it without another thought.

“Don’t get cheeky with me.”

Tiffany raised an eyebrow at your comment and is now reaching for her water bottle.

“Just because you’re dicking me down doesn’t mean you can come up with some snappy replies here and there.”

“What do you mean ‘here and there’? That’s just me.”

“Really? And where is the boy, who almost begged me to have sex with him yesterday?”

“I didn’t beg for anything. I was just hoping you would see this as an opportunity for you.”

Tiffany chuckles.

“For me? I have a feeling that you might be getting more out of this than I am.”

Her slightly raised eyebrows and her mocking tone seem to insinuate something.

“You mean the sex? I could call a girl in my class right now and she would be down for some fun.”

You try to sound relaxed, despite knowing that that’s not entirely true. She might. But you aren’t certain. 

Despite always being more comfortable with skinship than others, Eunha has become more handsy recently. At least it seems like that to you. Her sitting on your lap in school did happen before, but the fact that she let your hand rest on her thigh… Interesting, to say the least.

But all of your thoughts on Eunha are quickly thrown to the side, when Tiffany steps in front of you.

“Although I don’t believe you, I think we should start with round number two.”

You nod, waiting for her lead. It still feels odd to you that this feels way more like work or a transactional relationship than it should be. But then again, you’re getting to have sex with Tiffany, so who are you to complain?

After she told you what to do, you sit on a bench nearby. Tiffany makes sure the camera is facing you, but not showing your face.

“Okay then.”

She nods at you, which is the signal for you to pretend as if you’re drinking.

As you do so, Tiffany starts the recording. She waits a moment, before walking into the frame. 

“Oh, how are you doing?”

Her sudden cheerful attitude almost surprises you. She is able to switch so quickly. You wonder if Tiffany ever thought about being an actress.

“I’m good, thanks. I’m surprised to see you here, Ms. Hwang.”

“Why would you say that? Do you think all of this comes from nothing?”

She gestures down on herself. The camera, focused on her face, captures her satisfied smirk, when you look her up and down.

“No, I just-”

Tiffany puts a finger on your lips to shut you up.

“Listen. The gym is empty. We’re alone here. And I still remember what you did to me that night.”

“What are you trying to say, Ms. Hwang?”

“I want you to properly stretch me out again. Right here.”

She straddles your lap and you can feel her tight ass rubbing against your clothed cock. The second camera films the two of you from the side.

“R-Right here? But what if someone-”

Tiffany shuts you up once more, but with her lips this time. She makes sure to slowly grind herself on your cock, while the two of you deepen the kiss.

“I can’t wait to ride you again. I already started to miss your dick inside me.”

She speaks into your mouth, her words making you even harder than before.

You feel her tugging at the waistband of your shorts. Reaching around her, you grab two handfuls of her cheeks. Tiffany quickly pulls your shorts off your cock. Just enough, so she can wrap her hand around it. The other reaches for her bra, squeezing her own tits. You quickly undo the knot that holds up the light jacket around her waist. After throwing it away, you hook your fingers between her waist and her leggings.

“Don’t bother. Just rip ‘em.”

You look up at her with genuine surprise. You’ve never tried this before. But Tiffany’s lust filled eyes make you act quickly. You grab the black fabric right above her pussy. It’s already damp. Digging your fingers into the soft material, you pull at it. Tiffany gasps in arousal as she hears how you rip open her pants. You reveal her cleanly shaven pussy, her lips and the skin around it visibly wet. You’d have loved to give it another taste, but Tiffany has other things in mind. She spits into her hand, before wrapping it around your cock once more. Her wet hand now stroking your cock has you thrust up towards her.

“I can’t believe you’re this hard for me.”

Tiffany lifts herself off your lap and aligns your tip with her brown folds.

You watch how your length slowly disappears inside her already familiar pussy. Her eyes close quickly after. Your hands on Tiffany’s waist start to move her up and down. Her thighs flex on top of your lap as she follows your lead. Her own hands sneak around your neck, which pushes her chest further in your direction.

Tiffany’s moans become louder as the two of you pick up the pace. You thrust upwards, whenever you pull her down on you. You hit the deepest spots inside of her, which makes her hold onto your neck even harder. Her nails slightly dig into your skin.

“Really make me bounce on it, baby. I need it so bad.”

Her sigh makes you reach around her and grab her cheeks once more. The thin material almost makes it seem like she isn’t wearing pants at all. Having more leverage now, you lift Tiffany higher every time, before letting her fall onto your cock.

“Gosh, yes!”

Her cry tells you, you’re doing it right. Tiffany feels how you part her walls, how you stretch her out, with every bounce you make her do. Her eyes have been shut tightly this entire time. The pleasure overwhelms her as she completely forgets about the cameras surrounding the two of you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Her lewd words are timed with every bounce, with every spike of pleasure you send up her spine. By now, her head is buried in your shoulder. Her hands have fallen down onto your back, her body slowly getting drained of its energy. That energy gets replaced by ecstasy. You can feel it too. How Tiffany keeps tightening around you. How her ripped open pants get wetter. She isn’t moving at all anymore. You’re doing all the work, lifting her up and down.

While you do so, the growing urge to just ruin her entire being becomes unbearable. Making her bounce on your length is nice and all. But you need to be more active. You really need to rail her, like you did before. Tiffany has awakened something in you. Something primal. Something that needs to use her body for its own pleasure.

You stop lifting her up. Tiffany lets out a cute whine of disappointment. If only you knew how close she was to-

You stand up, still buried deep inside of her.

“What are you doing?”

Her weak sigh leaves her lips, her mouth right next to your ear.

“I need to fuck you so bad.”

You speak through your teeth as you walk towards the pilates cadillac. Only glancing behind you once, you make sure the two of you are still getting filmed. Once you reach it, you do your best to let Tiffany down gracefully and turn her around. The feeling of her pussy doing this circular motion around your cock almost makes you creampie her right then and there. But you hold it together. Grabbing one of her legs, you lift it over one of the bars. Her ass looks even better from behind now. You make her take a step to the right, making sure the camera captures such a beautiful view.

Except for a moan here and there, Tiffany has kept quiet so far. But now that you’re thrusting into her again, her lips become busy once more.

“Fuck yes, harder!”

One of your hands is still holding onto her waist, while the other now reaches around her. You can’t help but give her tits some nice squeezes through her top. Tiffany’s moans become louder as she feels your hand groping her mounds, occasionally pinching her nipples on accident, due to the thin material. 

“Shit, you’re good.”

Your hips smack against her thinly covered ass from behind, while you keep holding onto her waist and tits. But you can feel how Tiffany tightens around you once more. You feel her juices dripping down your cock. 

“Your young cock feels so fucking good!”

Tiffany becomes louder and her words dirtier. It gets worse the harder and faster you fuck her. You catch a patch of red skin underneath your hand and you feel how she pushes your other hand further down. Your hand wanders over that tight midriff of hers. You still can’t believe you are able to touch it right now. So often did you stare at it, when you saw her around the neighborhood or at a school event. You always wondered how sexy she would look, with your cum all over her toned tummy. 

“Right there, yes.” Tiffany mewls, your hand now reaching the torn part of her leggings. 

You keep your pace steady, making sure your cock thrusts into her tight snatch as deep as it can go. At the same time, you now let your fingers touch her clit, turning her into a begging mess.

“Rub it harder, yes. Give it to me. Use me.”

“Fuck.”

You groan, feeling how Tiffany’s tight pussy slowly pushes you towards your orgasm. But you do your best to hang on. You can’t stop now. The feeling of her juices on your cock, how her walls give you these tight squeezes at random intervals….It just feels too good to stop.

Your fingers on her clit keep rubbing it, forcing Tiffany to shut her eyes once more, her mouth spewing more and more curse words. But soon, you can feel a new level of tightness. Her walls squeeze you harder, her body seems to have become warmer. Her moans are more frequent. And then, it happens.

“Oh! What the fuck?!”

You almost lose it as well. The both of you are surprised. But Tiffany is cuming on your cock. You feel her pussy tightening around you. Her walls massage your cock, her cute moans are higher than her usual ones. Unable to see it, you can only feel how her juices make your cock dripping wet. Some of her liquid spills out of the connection between the two of you, leaving a long trail on her skin, before it disappears underneath her pants

“Oh my god.”

Tiffany has calmed down and you think you’re ready to keep going again. It was almost too close for you. But you can’t help but smile, knowing you just made her cum. 

“That was actually amazing.”

She is still breathing heavily. You’re not quite sure what did it for her. The position? The fact that you’re filming? The way you fucked her? Or the way you played with her clit? Maybe a mixture of some of them.

When she turns her head to look over her shoulder at you, you see a tired, out of breath Tiffany. But her eyes tell you to do it again. Make her cum around your cock, until she loses control.

You move her again, this time laying her down on the pilates cadillac. The black fabric feels cold against her bare back, but Tiffany is only distracted for a second. A moment later, she feels you entering her once more. You kneel on the bench she is lying on, now holding onto both her thighs.

“That’s it. Right there.”

She moans, her pussy stretching around your cock easier now. Both, her hole and your dick, are wet with her juices, which ensures a smoother fucking.

“Lift my hips.”

Her moan, or rather order, makes you hold onto her waist. You lift her up, but not without a little bit of embarrassment. You would like to think that you are fine with learning more from her, but at the same time, you already want to be the best. You want to turn her into a mumbling mess, without her needing to tell you what feels best for her.

You raise her ass off the fabric, wanting to prove how well you can do. Soon, Tiffany’s hands land on her white top once more. You watch her groping and massaging her own tits through the thin material.

“That’s it, baby. You stretch me out so good.”

Your fingers dig further into the skin on her waist. One side is already red from the previous position you put her in. This way, you can drive yourself even deeper inside of her. The angle makes it possible. Gliding along her smooth walls, you suddenly hit a slightly rougher spot. The touch makes Tiffany’s back arch as she throws her head back.

“Fuck, yes! That’s the spot! Right there!”

She sounds almost desperate. As if she is afraid you wouldn’t be able to hit it again. But your next thrust lands on the same spot. You tip grazes along its small length, sending jolts of pleasure through Tiffany’s system. As you feel your own orgasm starting to approach, you pick up the pace a little, hoping you don’t cum too early.

Soon, the both of you are almost there. You can feel the familiar signs around your cock. Tiffany’s tight walls, her juices, her lips, which stick to your length whenever you move. And Tiffany can feel your cock throbbing, how you get thrown off your rhythm. Your thrusts become irregular, which surprisingly turns her on even more. The fact that she is about to make you cum again. That you can’t fight her pussy.

One last, deep trust is all it takes for the both of you to groan in union. You shoot your cum deep inside Yeji’s mom once more, while Tiffany milks your cock with her tight snatch. Her pink walls squeeze every drop out of your cock, until you’re completely spent.

After the two of you have recovered, you scoot back a little. You watch how your cum leaves her freshly fucked pussy. When you look behind her, you realize that this last part was barely filmed. Tiffany’s head was definitely in the way. But you don’t really care right now. You are still catching your breath, while one last jolt rushes through Tiffany’s body. You feel proud of yourself, knowing you made her cum. Twice. This feels even better than just fucking her, or getting to cum inside of her. The fact that you were able to make her orgasm and it even got captured on camera, places a dumb smile on your face.

You empty your bottle after your third rep of squats. While sweat drips from your soaked hair, you walk towards the water dispenser in the corner of the large room. Tiffany left barely fifteen minutes ago. After she looked presentable again, you accompanied her outside and waited for her to drive off, before you started your workout. The loud sound of the water hitting the insides of your bottle echoes through the otherwise silent building. That’s why you’re more than just surprised, when you hear a door open on your right. It’s the women’s locker room. The men’s is on the left. Turning towards the door, you are greeted by a gorgeous and welcoming smile.

“Hello, Ms. Im.”

“You’re Minju’s friend, right?”

Im Yoona doesn’t stop smiling at you as she walks out of the locker room. 

“Yes. We have most of our classes together.”

“Of course I know you. My daughter talks a lot about you. Plus, I’m your mother’s friend, remember?”

That’s true. Ms. Im and your mom are more than just business partners. But lately, you barely do anything but focus on school and working out, so you don’t see Ms. Im often.

She leans forward a little, before putting her hand next to her mouth as if she doesn’t want anyone to read her lips. The gym is completely empty, but she only whispers.

“One might think she wants to be more than just friends.”

You’re not sure what to say. Minju is a pretty girl. But just a friend.

“I got you there, didn’t I?”

Ms. Im lets out a satisfied laugh, visibly amused by your flustered reaction. While she collects herself again, you finish filling up your bottle.

“You should come over more often though. Minju mentioned the two of you are doing your homework together today?”

You nod. Since your place is closer to school than Minju’s, the two of you usually hang out at yours after school.

“In the afternoon, yes. Ms. Kim told us to write an essay.”

“Ah, history. That’s why Minju asked you to work together.”

You’re surprised that Ms. Im knows that that’s your strong suit.

The two of you walk towards the other side of the gym, where you left your towel.

“Are you going to continue?”

You look up at Ms. Im’s question, after sitting down on the floor.

“Uhm, yes I am.”

You use the towel to clean the sweat off your face.

“Well, you’re totally wet. I don’t know if sweating this much is healthy.”

“I’m sorry.”

You feel a little embarrassed, remembering that you’re a soaked mess. You probably don’t smell so great either right now.

"No, it's fine. I just don’t want you to do too much. You look like you’ve already been working out a lot recently.”

“Thank you, Ms. Im. I’m just… You know, trying to get a little more physical.”

“Oh, I can see that.”

You feel an embarrassed flush on your cheeks. You’re not used to getting compliments. Especially not from a gorgeous woman like Ms. Im. Now that you’ve calmed down a little, you’re finally able to take in her outfit. She is wearing tight black yoga pants and a gray sweatshirt. But the sweatshirt is only covering the upper half of her upper body. You marvel at Ms. Im’s toned midriff for just a moment.

“Thank you, Ms. Im. You look very…”

You search for the right words to describe Minju’s mother. After getting drained by Tiffany twice in a row, your dirty mind is still active. Sexy or fit don’t really seem appropriate.

“Very much in shape too. But I usually don’t see you often here.”

“Thanks, sweetie. I do a lot of my workouts and stretches at home. Privacy and all that, you know?”

When she mentions that she stretches, your dirty mind is working overtime once more. It almost feels like Tiffany has corrupted you. Now, you just want to place your hands on her thighs, run them over her leggings, feel her ass, touch that midriff and-

You stop yourself. She is still Minju’s mother. This isn’t right.

“I get it.”

You smile at her, before taking a gulp of your water.

“But what are you doing here then, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Ms. Im lets out a melodic chuckle at your curiosity.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

With a teasing wink, Ms. Im disappears into the room you and Tiffany defiled earlier. You just hope you cleaned up everything.

You continue on with your workout. You and the two girls decided on 4 pm, which is in two hours. So you still have about an hour before you have to head home. After taking another sip of water, you pick up two dumbbells and continue with your routine. Watching yourself in the mirror, you catch how sweaty you are yet again. Ms. Im probably didn’t mean anything by it, but her comment made you a little self conscious now. You finish the first set with ease. The second one is a struggle towards the end. And the third makes your arms burn. Your sweat is dripping off your brows now, you can taste it on your lips. Just when you’re about to start set number four, you see the door to the pilates room open behind you through the mirror.

Ms. Im walks out of the room. You can’t help but stare, especially since she opened her sweater while she was gone. She is now showing off her black sports bra, which is matching her pants.

You only realize she is walking towards you when your eyes meet through the mirror. Putting the dumbbells back on the rack, you reach for your towel. Turning around, you wipe your face, just when she comes to a hold right in front of you.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your workout, but would you mind lending me a hand?”

Once more, your dirty mind goes into overdrive. It wouldn’t have been a problem anywhere else. But her choice of words, the empty gym… You can’t help but fantasize just a little.

“Of course, Ms. Im. How can I help you?”

“Well, I play a dance teacher in an upcoming drama.”

Minju’s mom is a famous actress. She is in a lot of good movies and dramas. So you’re actually excited to hear that she is working on something new.

“And so I’m working on my flexibility and learning a couple of dance moves. But I’m still having some trouble with specific positions. Since no one else is here”

She gestures around the empty gym.

“I had hoped you could spare me a couple of minutes.”

“I’d love to.”

“Great.”

Ms. Im beams up at you, before taking your hand and leading you inside the pilates room.

“By the way, do you know who’s bottle this is? I found it here.”

She points at the blue bottle, which is standing on the dresser to your right.

"Ah, yes. That’s Ms. Hwang’s. We worked out together earlier today.”

“Really?”

Ms. Im turns around to look at you. Her expression looks a little weird to you. Her brows are furrowed, her lips pressed together. Does she know that Tiffany…You hope not. You don’t want her to think you slept with Yeji’s mom.

“Yes, since she is a fitness coach and all that, she gave me some pointers. We ran into each other outside.”

You’re surprised to see her scoff. She mumbles something under her breath, before she leads you past the mats and the pilates cadillac.

You could’ve sworn you heard her say:

“Sons too now? Slut.”

But why would Ms. Im assume you slept with Tiffany, just because you two worked out? Weird. Maybe you heard wrong. Or did she catch her sleeping with someone else and now thinks you slept with her too because of that?

Your thoughts come to a halt, when you see Ms. Im choosing a song on her phone. She presses the plus button on her speaker a couple of times and the room starts to fill with music.

“I’m sorry Ms. Im, but I’m not really a good dancer.”

“Did you never learn how to dance?”

“Just a little. With my…ex.”

She definitely caught your pause. Because her face changes a little.

“Oh no. The two of you broke up?”

Ms. Im’s voice is full of empathy. She strokes your arm, looking at you with pity. 

“Yeah. Couple weeks back.”

“I’m sorry, dear. I know how much that sucks.”

While it is nice to get comforted, you also feel a little off. You don’t need anyone's pity. You’re not five anymore. You can deal with this on your own.

“It’s alright. We didn’t have a big fight or something.”

“Is that the reason why you’re working out so much recently? Trying to get over your breakup?”

“I think I’m over her already. But thank you for caring.”

Ms. Im looks like she is about to say something, but decides to stay silent.

“If you show me what you need me to do, I will try my best.”

“That’s sweet of you, honey.”

You can still see the sympathy in her eyes, but she starts to explain what she needs you to do.

After the fourth song you feel like you’re already an expert. Ms. Im really is a good teacher. You can now move to the rhythm easier, while focusing on actually helping her practice. Your hands are connected, while her other one is resting on your shoulder and yours is placed right on her waist. You’d usually wear something more formal like a dress and a suit for this kind of dance, but it’s nice nonetheless.

Being aware that your hand is occasionally grazing her naked waist makes you a little nervous. This is Minju’s mother after all. Your mind keeps going places it shouldn’t. If you would just pull her a little closer, so her body is flush against yours…Or lean down a little, admiring her gorgeous eyes… Let your hand move further up, so it’s fully placed on her naked skin…

So many inappropriate thoughts are running through your head, that you couldn't hear what she just said.

“I think I got a hang of this. It feels natural now.”

“Oh, sure.”

The two of you come to a hold. Ms. Im turns off the music, before walking up to the ballet bar close to the wall where the mirrors are.

“I hope you still have some time to spare? There are one or two positions I’m still struggling with.”

“No problem. I have more than enough time.”

You smile at her as you step closer.

“Great. So, there is a scene in the drama , where I teach a ballet class and I need to show off my flexibility…”

Ms. Im takes a hold of the bar on her left side and raises her right leg. You watch in awe as it goes higher and higher, until her foot is almost the same height as her chest.

“Wow, that’s pretty impressive.”

“But I need to get my foot on the same height as my head. So if you wouldn’t mind lifting it for me further, I would really appreciate it.”

“Sure.”

You hesitate for a second, not exactly sure on where to grab her. But you eventually decide on her thigh and her calf, pushing her leg upwards.You don’t stop, until you see her furrow her brows and hiss in pain.

“Sorry.”

You mumble, about to lower her leg again.

“No, it’s fine. Give me a second.”

The two of you don’t move for a couple of seconds, until Ms. Im nods.

“Okay, keep going.”

The determination on her face makes you lift her leg further. You’re almost there, but she shakes her head, obviously in pain again.

“You almost got it.”

You try to encourage her and Ms. Im gives you the signal to keep going. You feel yourself leaning against her a little as you push her leg up to her limit. Eventually, her foot does reach her ear. You see her other leg shake slightly, but she doesn’t say anything. Looking down, you lock eyes with her. When you catch her stealing a glance of your lips, you realize how close the two of you are. You back away a little and lower her leg. Ms. Im sighs in relief.

“Thank you. Can we try again?”

You help her out five more times. When she lifts her leg for attempt number six, you watch her foot finally reach her head on its own. Ms. Im lifts her head to look at the ceiling, doing her best to copy the exact stance. You only last a second. You can’t help but give her center a quick glance. Since her leg is raised high, you have a perfect view of the outlines of her lips. Barely visible, but they are definitely there.

“Alright.” 

You immediately focus back on her face as she slowly puts her leg down again.

“I think this was enough for today. Thank you for helping me.”

“It was my pleasure, Ms. Im.”

You see her putting on her thinking face, her elbow resting on her other arm, her chin placed in her hand.

“I feel like I should help you out too. And I think I know just the thing.”

Your eyes widen, when hers focus on your shorts. 

“Ms. Im?”

“Well, you say you’re over your ex, but you’re clearly not. So why don’t I help you see clearly again, hmm?”

You’re surprised when she suddenly steps forward and reaches for your crotch. Her hand cups your length through the thin material of your shorts.

“I don’t know-”

“It’s okay, honey.”

Ms. Im smiles up at you. 

“I can see, you still like her. But trust me, it’s not healthy for you to keep thinking about her this way.”

You swallow hard, fully aware that your friend’s mother is gently stroking your cock through your shorts.

“Ms. Im, I don’t know if this is really appro-”

“Come on, honey.”

She whispers, her hands already pulling down your elastic waistband.

“Let me give you a treat.”

Her eyes focus on your crotch again, when your shorts drop to the floor, your boxers with them.You see her smirk as she wraps a hand around your shaft.

“Looks like I’m in for a treat too.”

You can’t believe this is actually happening. Ms. Im, Minju’s mother, squats down in front of you, her hand still around your cock. She looks up at you with a caring smile, before slowly opening her mouth and guiding you inside. You hold your breath, feeling hers on your skin. But before she closes her lips around your shaft, she pulls back.

“Just teasing you a little.”

Her mischievous smile makes you bite your lip. Suddenly Ms. Im places her lips on your naked thigh. She gives you a kiss and then sticks out her tongue. You let out a deep breath as you feel her licking up your thigh, towards your crotch. You can see how your sweat leaves your skin and finds itself on her tongue. 

Still too stunned to do anything, you watch her do the same to your other thigh.

“Delicious.”

She kisses your abdomen, right above your cock.

You can’t believe that this is actually happening. This is way different from what you have with Tiffany. For some reason, this feels more intimate. Her smile tells you how much she likes the taste of your sweat as she licks her lips. You never expected Minju’s mother to act like this.

Her hand is still giving your cock long, slow strokes, while she peppers the skin around it with small kisses. She gives you an occasional lick, which sends goosebumps up your spine every time.You never had anyone do this to you before. But it looks like Ms. Im is thoroughly enjoying it. She gives your inner thighs a long, slow lick on either side. You hear her humming with satisfaction, before she backs away again.

“Your body tastes so good. I could do this for hours.”

Pictures of Ms. Im, cleaning your whole body, flash through your head. You feel yourself getting harder at the thought. This feels dirty to you. Too dirty for Minju’s mother to do it. Or even consider doing it. But there she is, squatting in front of you, with your dick in her hand.

“You can relax, honey. I can feel how tense you are.”

Ms. Im gives you another loving smile as she gives your thighs gentle squeezes.

“Let me take care of you. And enjoy yourself.”

She places both hands right next to your cock, her palms pressed flat against your skin. You hold your breath as she leans forward yet again, mouth open to welcome your cock. You feel her warm breath, You see how your cock disappears inside her mouth. And finally, Ms. Im wraps her lips around you.

With her eyes closed, she stays in place, her tongue swirling around your tip. Your dick is getting wetter by the second as she warms it with her mouth. Her tongue keeps dancing along on your skin, until it finds the underside of your shaft. She presses it flat against your cock from beneath. And then Ms. Im starts to move her head. Lips still wrapped around you in a tight seal, she begins to slowly fuck her mouth with your cock. You can’t help but thrust forward a little, whenever she moves further towards you. Your hands hang loose on either side of you, your fingers scratching the empty air. Reaching forward, you place your hands on her head. Ms. Im moves a little faster, but you make sure that she is the one who is controlling the pace.

When she moves back far enough to let your cock fall out of her mouth, she looks up at you with a satisfied smile playing around her lips.

“I can’t tell what it is. But your cock…”

She doesn’t continue. Instead, she gives your tip a kiss, her eyes closed as she seems to be enjoying the taste.

It’s not like you’re complaining. Actually, it’s kinda hot to hear Ms. Im say how much she loves your taste. But you never had the same reaction with your ex or Tiffany. The thought of Tiffany reminds you of your earlier session with her. Is that it? Does Ms. Im like how Tiffany’s pussy tastes on your cock? Who could blame her? Tiffany tastes amazing. You can vouch for that.

“I haven’t had such a delicious dick in ages.”

Ms. Im continues to swoon over your cock. You still vividly remember how Tiffany orgasmed around your cock. How she drenched you in her juices. 

“I really can’t get enough of it.”

Ms. Im takes you into her mouth once more. Her eyes closed, enjoying the taste. You feel her tongue roaming all over your cock, making sure she is giving attention to even the smallest of places. Right underneath your tip, circling around it. And then moving along your length, letting you feel her tongue almost slip out between her lips. As Ms. Im increases her pace further, you occasionally feel yourself hitting the wall in the back of her mouth. It almost seems like she is teasing you, by only giving you an idea what her throat might feel like. She becomes sloppier as well, the result of sucking you off too quickly. You see a strand of spit escape the corners of her mouth here and there. Your whole cock is glistening with her saliva by now and yet she won’t take you deeper. 

Which you are actually thankful for. Because you doubt you would last much longer, if Ms. Im would start to deepthroat you now. Tiffany’s throat game is deadly, and Ms. Im seems skilled enough to make you cum immediately too.

But to your surprise, she moves her head back, until your cock falls out of her mouth. You let out an involuntary sigh of disappointment, when you leave her warmth.

“You’re doing great, honey.”

Her teasing smile shows that she knows that you won’t be able to take her blowjob much longer. You feel her hands, which have moved to your cock, stroking your length once more.

“Tell me. Is there a place you ex wouldn’t let you cum, after a blowjob?”

You slowly nod.

Ms. Im hums in understanding as she places your length right over her lips.

“Poor boy.”

Her sympathetic tone and eyes, which are looking up at you, are making you shudder.

“I promise you can do whatever you want. Let me help you to forget her.”

“I…”

You take a deep breath. You’re reminded of the fact that this is Minju’s mother. Your friend’s mother. She knew you since you were little. The two of you shouldn’t be doing this. But your lips move, before your brain can take control.

“I’d like to cum on your face.”

You hold your breath, afraid you asked for too much. But Ms. Im’s reassuring smile makes you sigh in relief and anticipation.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Her lips move against your cock as she speaks.

For a moment, you feel like Ms. Im is very similar to Tiffany. How she acts, how she uses this seductive tone, the way she smiles at you as if she knows exactly what you need, even if you don’t know that yourself.

You watch her open her mouth, taking your cock back inside. Your ex honestly can’t really compare, you realize. Ms. Im was right. She does help you to forget about her. Her and Tiffany, to be precise. You wonder if it’s because of their age? Their experience? Maybe. It just feels different with the two of them. Better. More natural.

The sound of Ms. Im, fucking her face on your cock yet again, brings you back to reality. This time, her hands aren’t placed on your hips, but wrapped around your base. She doesn’t use them though. Only her lips and tongue work to make you cum eventually.

Now that you’ve realized how similar Ms. Im and Tiffany are, you also catch some differences. Ms. Im’s lips are wrapped around your cock in a tighter manner. Tiffany likes to take more of you in one go. The younger of the two uses her tongue more, while Tiffany likes to use her throat.

But Ms. Im doesn’t take all of your cock. Just enough to make you hit the wall. She could probably take all of you, if she wanted, but it really does seem like she is playing with you. Just thinking about how she is toying with you turns you on even more. Her blowjob shows that she isn’t just doing it to make you cum. She likes it too, she plays with you, giving you what you need, but not enough of it. Until there is no return. 

Ms. Im lures you in, making your own orgasm sneak up on you. It builds slowly, then it drops again, but then she picks it back up again. And suddenly, you feel the inevitable urge to cum. Your fingers dig into her scalp a little, your hips bucking forward. Within a matter of seconds, Ms. Im has pushed you to the edge. The edge, which you’re now about to fall from. 

“I-”

You can’t warn her. Can’t hold back. The last part of her blowjob defeats you within seconds. 

But Ms. Im feels how your cock suddenly becomes harder. How it pulsates inside her mouth. How you thrust into her, ready to finally cum.

But she isn’t quick enough for the first hit. Or maybe she did it on purpose?

A long streak of your cum hits the back of her mouth. Before you can release more, Ms. Im opens her mouth wide, pulls your cock out and aims it at her face. You try your best to watch as your orgasm overwhelms you. You see how you paint most of her face. Her nose, her left cheek, her lips. Your cum stains her beautiful face. But instead of complaining like your ex would’ve done, Ms. Im smiles up at you, letting out a satisfied sigh.

“Your cum tastes just as good as your sweat. Warm. And salty.”

She licks her lips and you can only marvel at how beautiful she looks with your cum all over her face.

You never thought about someone being into sweat. Specifically yours. But Ms. Im returns her attention to the rest of your body now. With a cum covered face, she licks along your thighs once more. Her eyes closed as she enjoys the taste.

You feel completely drained. The combination of your prior workout and Ms. Im’s blowjob proves too much for your body. Your legs slightly buckle as her tongue swipes over the skin right above your cock. Trying to recover your strength, you stand in place for a while, watching how she licks more sweat off your body. But when you feel Ms. Im’s tongue dip lower, giving your balls a drawn out lick, you feel your cock slowly hardening again. You wonder if she would give you another blowjob, if you asked her for it. The thought of her sucking your dick again, almost makes you fully hard once more. Just when Ms. Im wraps her lips around one of your balls, you hear chatter outside.

Fuck, someone is coming. By the sounds of it, a group of women. Which usually means they’re heading right for this room. The room you’re in. The room in which Ms. Im is still sucking the sweat off your balls.

“Ms. Im, someone is coming.”

She doesn't respond, her eyes closed, while yours scan the room for something to wipe her face with. 

“Ms. Im, we need to hurry.”

“Hm? Right.”

She almost looks like she woke up from a trance. She gives your cock one last long lick, which sends sparks up your spine, before she gets back to her feet. You quickly rush over to get her the small box of tissues, which is standing next to Tiffany’s forgotten bottle.

“Here.”

You watch her clean her face for a second, before you pull your boxers and shorts back up, which you almost tripped over on your way to get her the small green box.

“Oppa!”

Kim Minju waves at you as she sees you crossing the road, on your way to Eunha’s place. As she walks closer, she notices how your hair is still wet. You probably took a shower before you left the house.

“Hey, Minju!”

She can’t help, but send a smile your way. Momentarily forgetting that she is kinda angry at you. She asked you to come over to her place, so the two of you can work together. She doesn’t need a third wheel. Especially not someone like Eunha. The other girl always does what she wants. She gets away with almost everything with her stupid aegyo and the boys in class always have red faces, whenever Eunha decides to wear one of those ridiculously short skirts.

It’s not like Minju hates her. That’s not it. And she isn’t jealous either. Eunha isn’t a ten out of ten. And there are worse girls than her in your and Minju’s class. But she was hoping for a quiet and relaxed Sunday afternoon with you, before Eunha’s party starts. And Eunha will probably get a little too comfortable with you again. Like touching your shoulder or arm or thigh, or even sitting in your lap again. Minju shakes her head. She should try to stay positive. Afterall, this is mainly Eunha’s personality. Most of the time, that's just who she is.

The two of you finally meet in front of the driveway. You give Minju a quick hug, before you walk towards the front door. Minju trails after you, taking a glance at the cars parked nearby. She saw Eunha drive the white Mercedes once. That was the only time Minju was ever really jealous of her. Because she doesn’t have her drivers license yet. Minju has always been more focused on studying for school. She can always get it later anyways.

“Hi, guys!”

You must have rung the doorbell without Minju noticing, because Eunha has opened the door already and is giving you a hug. Minju escapes a scoff, when she sees what Eunha is wearing. Relaxing afternoon, goodbye. Luckily, she is standing too far away, so the both of you didn’t hear her. 

Minju takes another look at Eunha’s outfit as she walks up to her. She is wearing a skimpy pink top with a white bra underneath, the edges peeking out from under the pink fabric. Her whole midriff is exposed. And her skirt is way too short. Minju can even see a hint of Eunha’s white panties, because the hem of her skirt is almost at the same height as her center.

The two girls exchange a quick hug, before Eunha invites you and Minju inside.

“You guys want anything to drink?”

“Maybe some of the stuff you have for the party?”

Your joke earns you an elbow to the ribs by Minju.

“You’re not drinking now, oppa.”

“Then a coke, if you have some.”

“Make it two. But zero please.”

“Sure. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Eunha gestures at the dinner table. If only you had known how often you’d sit at that table in the future.

You and Minju take your places next to each other. While Minju is already taking her stuff out of her bag, you quickly check your phone. While you reply to a message in your class's group chat, you get a notification. A picture sent by Tiffany. You open it. Your eyes grow wide, focused on the picture. But when you hear Minju rustle around next to you, you quickly glance at her. She is busy with herself. Thank god. You tilt your phone a little away from her, hoping she won’t be able to see what you’re looking at.

The picture is a full body shot of Tiffany in a mirror. She is clearly showing off her ass, while she is standing sideways. It’s clad in tight white lace panties, which show off every curve of her peach. Now, you see the text that was sent with it. 

“A gift from one of my subscribers. They want you to fuck your friend’s mom again.”

You swallow hard as you feel yourself getting hard once more. How is that even possible? You came three times already today. The words friend’s mom make you realize what you just did in the gym. Minju’s mother gave you a blowjob. Your friend’s mother. You came on her face even. A cold shudder runs down your spine just thinking about what would happen if Minju finds out. 

“Would you mind putting your phone away?”

You almost fall off your seat at Minju’s words. 

“Yeah, sorry.”

You say unnecessarily loud. 

Eunha has just reached the table, placing two cans of coke zero in front of you and Minju, while also holding a glass of apple juice for herself. She takes her seat on your right and you take your tablet out of your bag. Minju has already started working a little it seems. Her own tablet already shows off a couple of notes.

“Alright then.”

Minju looks at the two of you.

“Ms. Kim said that our essay has to be about the Roman gods. So do we just name them and say what they stood for? Maybe add a legend or two?”

You have to admit you haven’t really thought about the task, until now. But Ms. Kim often gives the class only vague tasks for homework, because she likes to see how everyone interprets her words. You like it. It gives you freedom. And while she is usually quite strict, especially if you did nothing at all, the bar isn’t very high.

“I think everyone would do that though. It can’t be that easy.”

“Well, her last topic was the birth of Rome. And now gods…”

Minju gets lost in her train of thought, while you are searching for an answer as well.

“What do you think?”

You turn to Eunha.

“Well, didn’t she say something about the birth of Rome having two versions? A historical one and a fictional one?”

“True. Romulus and Remus. But apart from their father supposedly being Mars, I don’t know how the gods tie into this.”

“Oh.”

Eunha’s pen hits the floor underneath the table. It slipped out of her hand. But instead of getting up and crawling under the table, Eunha leans in your direction and downwards. Suddenly, her head is resting in your lap, her cheek pressed flat against your thigh. You hold your breath as she blindly searches with her fingers for the pen. Once she gets it, Eunha gets back up.While she does so, she places her hand on your thigh as well. Her pinky dangerously close to your crotch.

“Sorry, my bad.”

She gives you a cute smile. If you would’ve turned around, you would have seen Minju, rolling her eyes.

Now you need a moment to collect yourself, before you’re finally able to come up with an idea.

“Maybe it’s not just about Roman gods. I mean, there are similarities between Greek, Roman and Egyptian gods. Ms. Kim could’ve thought about that.”

“But then, she would’ve said that.”

 You nod at Minju’s comment, but Eunha shakes her head.

“I think you’re right. It makes sense. Since the Romans did kinda copy the Greek gods, right?”

“They did. You think that’s what she was talking about?”

“You’re the best at history.”

Eunha pats your thigh, giving you a cute smile.

“I trust you.”

“Fine. Let’s go with that then. Minju?”

You turn towards her, trying to ignore Eunha’s hand, which is still lying on your thigh.

“Sure. Where do you want to start?”

The three of you get to work. While Eunha makes a list of the most important gods, you and Minju search for their Greek and Egyptian equivalents. Minju is very aware of what is going on in the shadows though. Eunha’s hand, which sometimes lingers on your thigh too long. Her naked leg touching yours, when she scoots a little closer. And especially how Eunha occasionally fixes her top, while you talk to her. It’s not jealousy that is fueling Minju’s growing anger. It’s the fact that Eunha even dares to do all of it right in front of her. And that you don’t even seem to notice. Minju expected you to tell Eunha to stop. Or at least acknowledge it in some way. But to her, it looks like you’re completely oblivious.

Which is definitely not true. Because from the moment Eunha placed her head on your thigh, you keep trying to focus on your homework. Eunha is cute. And hot. There is no doubt about it. And if Minju wasn’t here, maybe you’d fool around with her a little. But Minju is here. And you don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.

“The next one is Venus. I forgot what she stands for?”

Minju rolls her eyes once more. But instead of saying anything, she takes a big sip of her coke, trying to drown her anger.

“It’s the goddess of love and sex.”

“Kinky.”

Eunha wiggles her eyebrows at you. You clear your throat, trying to prevent any escalation.

“Yeah. Her Greek equivalent is Aphrodite and her Egyptian one is Hathor.”

“That’s the goddess with the cow head, right?”

“Yes.”

Minju writes it down after getting your confirmation.

“What do you think the sex goddess looks like?”

Eunha’s question makes you silently dig your fingers into your own thigh. She couldn’t be more obvious. And if Minju didn’t notice yet, she now must know for sure.

“I’m not sure. I mean, she isn’t real, right?”

“Well, if she would be. What do you think she’d look like?”

Minju hesitates for a moment. She can sense how you’re trying to avoid the question. But she's had enough of this. She can’t let Eunha toy with you the whole afternoon and she can’t stand the fact you only seem to notice now what’s actually going on.

“There are a lot of different statues of all three of them. You can just check them out and-”

“Oh come on, oppa. Tell us. What do you think she would look like?”

Minju places her hand on your shoulder. Her question makes your heart drop. You swear you heard a slight hint of anger in her voice. And while the two of you annoy each other from time to time, you’re still great friends. You don’t want to hurt her. You think about it for a while, trying to come up with an answer, which would get you out of this once and for all.

“Like my ideal woman. My type.”

“Yes, but what is that?”

You focus on your can of coke, which means you miss the anger filled eye contact the two girls share. Minju is annoyed by Eunha and by you. And Eunha can’t believe Minju is now trying to compete with her for your attention. This was her idea after all. It’s not like she always had a crush on you. But Eunha did notice how you grew up over the last couple years. You work out more and take care of yourself better. But when she sat in your lap a couple of days ago, she could feel that you were more than happy to have her sit on you. Eunha couldn’t help but slightly grind on it for a second, hoping you wouldn’t notice. She got curious how big you actually are. That’s why she planned on seducing you today. Minju coming along completely ruined this day for her.

“I don’t know. A beautiful face? A fit body?”

“That’s all?”

Eunha places her hand on your thigh once more.

“There must be some other features on a girl’s body you find attractive, right?”

“Come on, oppa.”

Minju makes you focus back on her.

“Tell us. We don’t bite.”

Minju’s smile does seem genuine, but you are not one to take these kinds of risks. 

“Sorry ladies, need to head to the bathroom real quick.”

You quickly get off your chair.

“Down the hall, on your left.”

“Thanks, Eunha.”

You leave the two girls alone. Once you reach the bathroom, you sigh in relief. That was close. 

“What the hell, Minju?”

“What?”

Minju plays innocent. 

“Oh, please. Keep it in your pants.”

“Excuse me? You are the one who is barely wearing anything to begin with.”

“This is my house. I can wear whatever I want.”

Eunha gets off her chair to put away her empty glass.

“Why are you suddenly trying to get in my way anyway? The two of you have been just friends for years. You suddenly got the hots for him, or what?”

“Eww, no.”

Minju makes a disgusted face, but even she can’t fool herself anymore. The stupid, dumb, childish boy she once knew is already mostly gone.

“But I don’t want my friend to start seeing a slut like you.”

“What did you just call me?”

Even when she is angry, her hands at her waist, her brows furrowed, Eunha is still hella cute.

“Have you even looked at yourself?”

Minju, who is still sitting, gestures at Eunha, who is standing in front of the table.

“I can see your panties from here.”

“That’s the point. Do you think he saw them too?”

Eunha wiggles her eyebrows and gives Minju a satisfied smile.

“Trust me, Minju. I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but you don’t have much going for you, that you could show off anyway.”

Minjus scoffs in disbelief, rolling her eyes.

“Who says I want to show off anything to begin with? And I do have enough to show off.”

Eunha shakes her head. 

“You don’t have big tits. Or ass. Not even thighs.”

She lifts her leg, placing her foot on a chair.

“Look at mine. Do you know how many guys stare at my thighs at school?”

Eunha places her foot back on the ground with a victorious smile playing around her lips.

“All of them.”

“Oh, really? If I wanted to, I could make every guy fall for me. But I’m just not a slut like you are.”

“Prove it then.”

Eunha crosses her arms in front of her chest.

The two of them stare at each other for a while, without saying a word. Eunha doesn’t want to back down. She knows that she has bigger thighs and a great butt. On the other hand, Minju isn’t sure what she should do next. But when she hears the bathroom door open, she acts quickly.

Eunha raises an eyebrow as Minju reaches for the zipper on her top. She starts to pull it down. The two girls keep eye contact, right until you walk back into the dining room.

“There you are.”

Eunha reacts first, giving you a cute smile, while Minju lets go of her zipper. She quickly glances down, to see how far she pulled it down. She sighs in relief. Not too far, but enough for you to notice the top of her black bra. Now Minju regrets not putting on the one with the lace on it, when she was deciding on what to wear earlier.

“How do you guys feel about snacks? I’m starving.”

“Sure, thanks Eunha.”

You reciprocate her smile, before sitting down.

Minju pulls her collar a little to the sides, making sure you have a better view of her cleavage. But her jaw almost drops, when she sees what Eunha is now doing.

The older girl reaches up to grab a box of sweets, which were placed inside one of the higher drawers. But she is way too small, so she has to get on her tiptoes. Your eyes are focused on her as well now. Because as Eunha stretches upwards to get the colorful box, her skirt raises as well. You get a very good view of her thighs, then a hint of her white panties. And eventually, Eunha basically shows off her whole ass. If you weren’t hard before, then you are definitely hard now.

Minju’s body heats up in anger. No way that wasn’t intentional.

“Oppa.”

You quickly turn around to look at Minju. She didn’t catch you staring, did she? As you look at her face, you notice how her top is now more open than before. 

“So for the second part…”

She is focused on her tablet while she speaks, but you can’t focus properly. You’re busy with giving her cleavage a glance, and another one, and another one, and-

You shake your head. What is the problem with you today? How is it possible you’re still this horny after going two rounds with Tiffany and receiving a blowjob from Ms. Im?

“Here you go.”

Eunha places the box of sweets in front of you as she sits back down. But instead of sitting normal, she puts one leg up, her foot resting on the chair. She reaches for a chocolate bar and starts to eat it with her chin on her knee. 

You’re almost too scared to look down. At this point it feels like the two of them are doing this on purpose. But that sounds ridiculous. Minju has been your friend for years. Why would she suddenly try to make a move on you? And Eunha? Well, she is always a little handsy, but today it’s a little much. Or is this your dirty mind speaking again? Are you trying to make more out of this than it actually is?

You pick a chocolate bar as well and start to eat it to calm your nerves, as the three of you get back to it. But your situation doesn’t improve much. Now Minju is the one who places her hand on your arm more often than you can count. She touched your hand as well, while she was reaching for the small box. And at the same time, she leaned over, giving you a proper look down her top. You’ve never seen this much of her. And only now do you realize how pretty Minju really is. Not just her chest, but her face as well. Her big eyes seem to constantly look at you with affection, her brows furrow, whenever she concentrates on the task at hand. And her lips look better than you remember.

Meanwhile, Eunha has unbuttoned two more buttons on her top, saying it’s way too warm for her. She is basically giving you a full view of her clothed pussy and her thighs look better than ever. 

But Eunha notices how your attention slowly drifts more and more towards Minju. And you can’t deny it either. While Eunha is beautiful and all, it’s Minju with whom you share a deeper connection with. Your eyes keep wandering between her tablet and her chest, while the two of you start to finish the assignment. Eunha gets annoyed by your lack of attention. After all, this is her house. And she is the one who planned on having fun with you. Not Minju. You and her are turned towards her tablet, your backs almost facing Eunha by now. To be fair, Eunha isn’t really working anyways.

“Fine then.”

She thinks to herself, ready to finish this once and for all.

Eunha lifts herself off her own chair and gets closer to you. In one swift motion, she lands on your lap, pretending nothing is happening, while looking at Minju’s tablet as well.

“Eunha…”

You try to protest, but you know it’s already too late. She must feel how hard you are. How your clothed cock is slightly rubbing against her panties as she gets comfortable on top of you. And Minju is starting to scream on the inside. How can Eunha be this daring? This slutty? Right in front of her? And why aren’t you stopping her?

Minju tries to suppress her emotions to the best of her abilities. You aren’t her boyfriend. So technically, it’s not her place to say anything. But still…. She can’t just sit here and watch.

As subtle as possible, Eunha takes your left hand and places it on her naked thigh. She smells like vanilla, her scent almost making you forget about Minju. But when she lets your fingertips slip in between her thighs, you quickly look at your friend. Minju has slightly turned away, so you can’t read her face. Unbeknownst to you, she is pretending to get a text from Yeji, just to get her out of here.

“Sorry, guys. Yeji just sent me a message. She needs my help, so I better get going now.”

Your hand escapes Eunha’s dangerous trap to hold Minju’s shoulder.

“You’re leaving already? We’re almost done.”

“I think it’s an emergency.”

“Okay, Minju. It was fun to work with you today.”

Minju can tell Eunha’s smile is fake from a mile away.

Once the front door closes behind her, Minju hangs her head. What is she doing? Why is she getting so worked up about this? She clears her throat and zips up her top again. Minju shakes her head, her cheeks still slightly red from her anger. No. You can do whatever you want. You aren’t her boyfriend. And she doesn’t like you like that anyway. It’s more like Minju is almost envious of Eunha. She doesn’t want to walk around with a skirt that shows off her panties. No, that’s not it. But Minju wants to have the same confidence as Eunha. She’s always been a little more introverted and she definitely missed out on stuff because of that. But it always seems like Eunha is always just doing what she wants. That’s what Minju is really bothered by.

You try your best not to stare, but it’s in vain. Who could resist? Your eyes are focused on Eunha’s panties, which are only partially hidden by her skirt as she closes the front door. When she turns around, you quickly look at her face instead.

“Do you want to finish this?”

Eunha’s sweet smile makes you nod.

You watch her walk over to the table. But instead of sitting down in her own chair, she straddles you once more. But this time, she is facing you.

“Eunha, what-”

“You said you want to finish what we started.”

Her smile turns into a mischievous grin, before she leans forward to press her lips against yours.

“This is too fast!” Screams the voice inside the back of your head, but your hands have already taken a hold of Eunha’s full thighs and your lips are already inviting her tongue inside.

“Wait…”

You finally push her back a little.

“What? Don’t you think I’m sexy? You kept looking at me this whole time.”

Her lips land on yours once more. And you have to admit, you don’t know how to respond. You did imagine how it would feel like to have those thighs wrapped around your head. Or how cute Eunha’s moans would sound like. But that was just imagination. Because you didn’t think she actually wanted you.

“Fuck.”

You break the kiss, your head falling back as Eunha grinds herself against your hard dick. She uses this opportunity to tilt her head and attack your neck. Determined to mark you, wanting to show Minju that she got you, she sucks and bites your skin. Her own hands roam your back, keeping you close and pressing your chest against hers. You feel the heat inside her body, especially at her center.

Your fingers dig further into her thighs, making a moan escape her lips, before you start to actually move her back and forth in your lap. Her clothed pussy rubs against your pants and you can’t wait any longer. You need to feel her. Now.

You stand up slowly, Eunha instinctively wrapping her legs around your hips. The two of you quickly reach the sofa in her living room. You sit down on it with Eunha still in your arms. The whole time she kept on kissing your neck and cheek and is now backing away.

“I can feel how hard you are. Let me help you out.”

Her cute wink makes you let out a deep breath, before you watch her climb off of you. But instead of getting onto the carpet, she makes you move over, so that you’re lying down. The sofa is big enough for her to kneel next to you and it only takes you a moment to realize why she did that. While Eunha starts to take your pants off, you reach behind her, her skirt barely covering her ass. You give her right cheek a hard squeeze, making Eunha gasp. 

“You can play with my body all you want, oppa.”

You slightly raise your hips, making it easier for her to finally pull your pants off. At the same time, you feel the fabric of her panties against your fingers. You hook one finger underneath it, right when Eunha wraps a hand around your cock.

“I knew it.”

Her eyes, which were focused on your cock now look at yours.

“You have a really nice dick.”

Before you can reply, you see her opening her mouth and leaning down. A low groan escapes your mouth as you feel Eunha’s lips wrap around your tip. Even if you see Tiffany’s blowjobs just as foreplay, this would already be your second of the day. First Ms. Im and now Eunha. Unconsciously, you dig your fingers into her full cheek, right next to her pussy. It makes Eunha lean forward a little further, taking your dick deeper into her mouth.

“God, Eunha…”

You feel her smile around your length. Wanting to repay her, you reach for her panties and pull them slowly to the side. They’re slightly damp already. You let one finger glide around her labia, collecting a little bit of her juices. But you come to a hold, when Eunha starts to properly suck you off, her tongue dancing around your tip. For a small while you’re unable to do anything but watch. Eunha looks so hot in this position. Bent over on your side, her mouth around your dick, her cute face showing signs of pleasure and her ass completely visible, due to her skirt, which has fallen down around her hips by now.

Eventually you do pick up where you left off. Reaching a little lower, you let your fingers glide over her clit, which is partially covered by her lips. Eunha moans around your cock, making your head roll back in response. Soon after, you let a finger slip into her pussy. A lustful hum sends vibration into your cock and all the way up your spine. Once you’ve established a proper rhythm, you and Eunha pleasure each other at the same time.

While she sucks you off, you finger her. You can feel how Eunha’s pussy becomes wetter, how it occasionally clenches around your first and now your second finger as well. At the same time, Eunha can feel your hard shaft inside her mouth. It does take her some effort to properly suck you off. She did feel you before through your clothes, but you’re slightly bigger than she anticipated. Not that she is complaining. Not at all. Eunha is already thinking about her next move. As she lets her lips glide along your shaft, she is already planning on taking you inside of her properly. Does she want to do it right here? In the living room? The thought alone gets her going as the pace of your fingers quickens. She imagines herself bent over the backrest, your cock being the thing that moves in and out of her and not your fingers.

Eunha’s eyes close, her body slightly sways back and forth, her lips still sealed tightly around your shaft. You do your best to satisfy her, not wanting to disappoint. After all, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Your classmate giving you head. 

You need to take a deep breath when Eunha decides to go even deeper. You feel the back of her mouth hitting your tip. She gags once, twice. Her spit coats your shaft. Your head rolls back and your eyes stop at a picture of her. Of Eunha and her sister. The two of them on holiday, at a visibly hot place. Her crop top and skirt are almost as short as the ones she is wearing right now. You can’t help but glance at her sister. You haven’t seen Wonyoung in almost a year, but she is as sexy as Eunha is. For a moment, you imagine how hot it would be to have both their mouths around your cock. You doubt you would last long with the Jung sisters. Especially if they would start doing more than just giving you head.

You let out a deep groan as you think about the two of them a little too long. Eunha can feel your hips bucking upwards as you almost start to fuck her mouth. Your fingers inside of her move faster now, fueled by the images inside your head. The teasing from earlier and now this… You know you won’t last much longer.

Eunha’s eyes roll to the back of her head as she feels your thumb circling her clit, while your other two fingers keep pumping in and out of her. Her body becomes weak due to the pleasure that is rushing through her system now. She slumps down a little, almost impaling her mouth on your cock. Her warmth around almost your entire length makes you almost cum right there.

And then the phone rings. Your eyes grow wide and Eunha quickly lifts her head off your cock.The two of you look at each other. You catch a thin strand of her saliva sticking to her chin.

“Yours or mine?”

“Mine.”

Eunha quickly gets off of you and heads for the table. As you watch her, reality seems to finally hit you. This actually just happened. You got a blowjob from Eunha. And you had your fingers inside of her. You can’t help but smile. After getting the opportunity to sleep with Tiffany and receive head from Ms. Im, one would think you’d be used to it, but who could get used to that? You feel like the luckiest person on earth. How did you manage to pull this off?

Eunha quickly glances at the caller’s ID, before picking up.

“Yes, Zuha?”

“Hi, unnie. Just wanted to let you know we are done with buying the stuff for the party. Do you want anything else?”

“Uh…No I’m good.”

Eunha suddenly remembers that you’re still here. Half naked.

“A-Are you already on your way back?”

“Yes. I’ll be at your place in around five minutes. The party is starting soon.”

“Okay, thanks Zuha.”

Eunha hangs up and turns around. She knows it’s dangerous to continue. But her eyes automatically focus on your cock. Just a little longer…She feels her core still tingling. She has five more minutes anyway.

“We have five minutes.”

The determination in Eunha’s eyes puts a little bit of pressure on you. Does she expect you to make her cum right now? You watch as she steps closer. But this time, instead of kneeling next to you, Eunha straddles your face, placing both her thighs on either side of your head. Before you can react, Eunha is already pressing her pussy against your mouth as she leans down to swallow your cock once more. As her taste takes over your mouth, you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her even closer. The two of you focus on pleasuring each other once more. You feel Eunha slightly grinding against you, while she feels how you slightly thrust upwards whenever she takes you in deep. 

You both know you have only limited time. And eventually, Eunha is the first to lose it. You feel her tremble on top of you. Her moan around your dick sends you right to the edge as well. You place your hands on her ass, making sure she stays in place as her thighs shake. But the feeling of her soft cheeks and the way her mouth coats your cock with her saliva finally prove too much for you.

You join Eunha in her orgasm. For a couple of moments, the two of you are just a shaking mess, until you both calm down. Only as you lap up Eunha’s juices, which are glistening on the skin around her lips, do you realize that you just came inside her mouth.

Eunha climbs off of you and then turns around. Her cheeks are a little red from her orgasm. And when she opens her mouth, you see your cum inside of her. She closes her mouth and gives you a sexy smirk. You can tell she is playing around with it with her tongue. By the way her right cheek bulges, it seems like she pushed all of your cum into that one cheek.

“If only we had enough time…My pussy is just so wet right now.”

She lifts her skirt and your eyes dart back and forth between her wet pussy and her cum filled mouth. You can’t decide on what’s hotter. But Eunha quickly helps you decide by opening her mouth once more, pushing your cum around with her tongue again.

“You should give me more of this later. It tastes very good.”

“Fuck, Eunha.”

You get up as well and take a step closer.

“Stay here after the party. I need you to use my body to make yourself cum.”

She closes her mouth once more and your eyes widen when you watch her throat bulge slightly. Eunha gulps down your cum with a satisfied smile on her face. She opens her mouth again, showing off that she swallowed the whole load.

You’re about to say something, when you see a car pull onto the driveway through the window behind her. The two of you quickly try to look normal. You put your pants back on, while Eunha pulls down her skirt a little further. Just when you finish packing your things, you hear the doorbell ring. 

“Hi, Zuha.”

The two girls share a quick hug, while you down the rest of the Coke Eunha gave you earlier. Kazua seems to have noticed you, because she calls your name.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

You haven’t seen her for a couple of days. The only class the two of you share is Ms. Kang’s PE class.

“I’m great. Are you going to help us set everything up?”

Before you can answer, Eunha shakes her head.

“He was just here because we did our homework together. He was just about to leave.”

She turns around to face you.

“You’re coming back later, right?”

Eunha gives you a seductive wink.”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna change and be right back.”

You feel a little awkward talking to Zuha after cuming inside Eunha’s mouth mere moments ago. But Eunha seems to be unbothered as she helps the younger girl get all the booze out of her trunk, while you head back home.

“Yes!”

You laugh triumphantly, raising your arms. The ping pong ball just landed inside the red plastic cup across the table from you. You ignore Yeji’s glare with practiced ease as you give Eunha a high five. Your teammate changed her clothes as well. Instead of wearing a pink top and a black skirt, she is now wearing a pink top with a white skirt. They are both bigger now, which means no one can see her panties while she just stands around. But her skirt is still short enough to show off her thighs. And by the looks of it, you aren’t the only guy at the party who appreciates Eunha’s outfit choice.

“Eunha unnie!”

One of her friends calls her and a moment later, Eunha disappears inside the small crowd in her living room. You head for the kitchen to get yourself another drink. While reaching for the bottle of whiskey, someone bumps into you from behind, before she takes her place next to you and holds out her cup.

“Pour me one, loser.”

You roll your eyes as you open the bottle.

“Suck a bag of dicks.”

Someone just turned off the lights, so you can’t see her face, but you know it’s not Yeji. She would never talk to you voluntarily. 

“Right back at ya.”

You fill your cup, before you let the bottle hover over hers.

“Changed my mind.”

You hear her scoff as you put the whiskey back down and put the lid on.

“You suck.”

She reaches for the bottle.

“Says the cheerleader who has the flexibility of my great grandfather.”

The two of you would have continued your daily amount of banter, if it wasn’t for Minju, who suddenly appears on your other side.

“Oppa, wanna dance?”

“Not really, no.”

Minju ignores you and takes your hand. You’re reminded of her mother from earlier today. Another wave of guilt washes over you. You quickly drown your feelings with the whiskey in your hand as she drags you towards the middle of the living room.

It seems like the music becomes louder as you watch Minju starting to dance. Her body moving to its rhythm. 

“Come on.”

Her smile warms your heart as she sees you just standing there. You take her hand and Minju playfully lifts it over her head and twirls around underneath it.

Soon after, the two of you are surrounded by only lights. Only the two of you exist. And the music. The music makes Minju move. Move against you. Her back presses against your front. Her head just right where your heart is. Her arms are raised as she lets the feeling of ecstasy rush through her body. You look down on her with a smile on your face. Minju’s happiness captivates you too. You reach down, placing your hands loosely on her wide hips. You feel the black denim on your skin. Minju keeps on moving her body to the music as you hear her laugh. You move closer, pressing yourself flush against her from behind. The two of you were never this close. But now, Minju is dancing in your arms.

After a while, you feel her ass brush against your crotch once. And then again. And again. You can feel how Minju almost grinds herself back against you as she dances in the middle of the room. In the middle of the crowd. You don’t know if it’s intentional or not, but Minju starts to make you hard. Your hands on her hips were already a start, but her ass against your clothed cock quickens the process.

A moan almost escapes her lips as Minju feels your length between her cheeks. Up until this day, there was never any sexual tension between the two of you. You were always friends. Nothing more. And yet, Minju can feel how right this is. How good it is. It’s the first time she is even thinking about your cock. Even during the competition earlier, she didn’t really think about sleeping with you. It was just to prove to Eunha that Minju can be as sexy as she is, if she wants to be. But now, your length makes her let out another moan. The loud music stops it, before it reaches your ear. Minju closes her eyes as she keeps dancing. As she keeps grinding against you. 

Minju’s warm body against yours almost makes you forget what you planned on doing today. But when your eyes fall on Yeji, who is talking to Kazuha, you remember vividly. For some reason it almost turns you on even more. That Yeji will be seeing a video of you fucking her mother.

Minju makes you focus on her once more, when she reaches for your neck. Your eyes leave Yeji and you look down on the girl in front of you. She slightly pulls your head down while she keeps her eyes closed. You wouldn’t dare to kiss her right now. Not even on her forehead. But you can smell her shampoo as you get close enough. You close your eyes as well, inhaling Minju’s scent. You wonder what could’ve happened next. But the music stops. Everyone around you stops dancing. Minju turns around to look at you. Before she can say something, you take your phone out of your pocket.

“I gotta show you something, Minju. It’s important.”

She nods and you take her hand and lead her outside the living room. Once the two of you reach a quieter place, you take a deep breath. The dancing just now makes you see Minju in a different light, but you have to focus. 

“Here. Someone sent it to me.”

You click on the video and let it play. You see Minju narrowing her eyes as she takes a closer look.

“T-This is…They are…”

Her eyes are now wide open as she realizes it’s a video of two people having sex. It looks like the guy is holding the camera.

“I wanted to show it to you first.”

You try to sound as concerned as possible. You hate to lie to Minju, but if this is the way to finally make Yeji pay, so be it.

“Why?”

“You see the woman? Isn’t that Yeji’s…”

You don’t finish the sentence, but Minju surely understands what you are hinting at.

She leans in closer, wanting to make sure you are wrong. But when the camera zooms in on the woman’s face, Minju lets out a gasp. She looks up at you with shock in her eyes.

“Who sent this to you?”

“That’s not the worst part, Minju.”

You point at the lower right corner of the video. The hallway is almost completely dark, but your phone is bright enough for Minju to read the watermark.

onlyfans.com/tiffany

“Oppa…”

Minju’s worried face almost makes you confess, but you stay strong.

“I-I have to tell her.”

Minju has already walked past you, but she stops and turns around.

“Can you send it to me? She won’t believe me otherwise.”

“Sure.”

You see the disgust on her face. She doesn’t want that video to be on her phone. The video of her best friend's mother having sex. But she has to tell Yeji.

“Thank you.”

Minju disappears inside the living room and you lean against the wall behind you. You sigh, shaking your head. Now that you did it, you wonder if this was too hard. What if it destroys Yeji? Will she confront her mother?

While you’re having second thoughts, Minju has already reached Yeji.

“Come with me.”

Another shot of whiskey burns your throat. You just saw Minju and Yeji disappear upstairs and you know there isn’t a way to undo this. And now that you did it, you feel horrible. But then again, Yeji has tormented you since you can remember. You are just the first person to strike. You’re sure that Yeji has something up her sleeve as well.

“Slow down, oppa.”

Eunha appears next to you and grabs your cup, before you’re able to drink more.

“You don’t look so great.”

“I’m fine.”

You reach for the bottle, but Eunha slaps your hand away and shakes her head. 

“No more drinking, oppa.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe you. You look down. But that's okay. There are other ways to lift your mood. Better ways.”

Her last words make you look at her and her smirk tells you what she has in mind.

“Eunha-”

“Shhh.”

Eunha places a finger on your lips, while her other hand reaches for one of yours.

“I’ve been so fucking wet since you made me cum.”

She kisses your cheek as you feel your fingers brush against the hem of her skirt.

“Do it again.”

“There are people here.”

“So? No one is watching. And because of the counter, no one can see my lower half.”

You know it’s true. And the idea of being able to have your fingers inside of her again makes you hard. You know you shouldn’t. It’s too risky. And yet you don’t fight it, when Eunha guides your hand along her thigh.

You aren’t surprised by her lack of panties. She already told you what she planned on doing with you later on. Her hand rests on your arm as you insert two fingers inside her snatch once more. Eunha is facing the crowded living room and you stand behind her. She is forced to look at all the people here, trying to pretend like nothing is happening. Eunha can almost feel like somebody's watching her. In the far right corner of the living room. But she doesn’t dare look up. Her eyes close as you put your thumb on her clit.

You can tell that Eunha is still wet from earlier. Her breathing is already getting faster. She begins to lean back against you as the pleasure turns her legs into a shaking mess. She reaches forward with one hand, supporting herself on the counter in front of her. The other hand is still holding onto your arm, her nails slowly starting to dig into your skin. Eunha tries to stand straight, but she falters as your thumb begins to circle around her clit.This got her going before, so why not do it again?

Soon, Eunha’s full body weight is on you and her ass is pressed against your clothed cock. Her breathing is shallow and quick as if she just went for a run. You’re actually impressed by how quiet she is, but then again, the music is quite loud. You see that her eyes are closed, before she buries her face in your shoulder. It sounds like she lets out a cry. A second later, her whole body shakes. Her pussy contracts around your fingers and you almost feel how her clit is pulsating against your thumb.

“Oppa…”

She sighs into your shoulder, visibly satisfied after her orgasm. But now you are hard. And you can’t help but let your, with slick covered, hand run over her naked thigh. Eunha notices how your dick pushes against her ass from behind. With a cute smirk on her lips, she reaches behind herself.

“Let me help you too, oppa.”

It takes her a while, because she can’t see what she is doing and because she only uses one hand, but eventually, Eunha has unzipped your zipper and fished out your cock. Your pants stay on and so does Eunha’s skirt. You lean forward a little, sliding your cock between her thick thighs.

Another sigh leaves her lips and you try to act normal by not looking down on what you’re doing. That’s why you’re now able to see Minju and Yeji walk through the living room. They are heading to the front door. Yeji’s head hangs low, her face covered by her hair. Minju seems to be comforting her as her hand rests on her friend’s back. You feel a sting of regret in your chest, but Eunha quickly makes you focus back on her.

“Fuck my thighs, oppa.”

You plant a kiss on the back of Eunha’s head and start to thrust in and out of the gap between her thighs. The thought of Minju and Yeji is soon gone as you take your pleasure from Eunha. You’re careful to not go too fast or hard, afraid someone would notice. Instead, you enjoy Eunha’s softness with slow and long strokes. Both your hands hold her waist, keeping her in place.

“You feel so big…”

Eunha’s eyes are closed once more, her head slowly sinking back against your shoulder again. You’re tempted to give this beautiful face a kiss, but now you feel it too. The same thing Eunha felt earlier. The feeling of someone watching you. Your heart pounds faster and you slow down your thrusts. You look around, trying to make out the person who is looking at you two amongst the crowd. When you don’t find anyone suspicious, you shrug off the feeling. Maybe you’re just nervous. Or it’s the alcohol in your system.

Another sip of vodka burns Kazuha’s throat. Her eyes are fixated on what’s going on in the kitchen. You’re still standing behind Eunha. Earlier, it seemed like you had a hand under her skirt, almost as if you were fingering her. But now, Kazuha is sure that you’re actually fucking Eunha. Slow and careful, but not unnoticeable for anyone who looks at you more carefully. The older girl’s head has dropped back against your shoulder and Kazuha can see her pleasure wrecked face. Eyes closed, nose slightly scrunched, lips twitching. She can’t believe the two of you would do something this daring. She already suspected you, when she saw the two of you earlier. The way Eunha was dressed only meant one thing. And now she got proof. After another gulp of the burning clear liquid, Kazuha can’t help but place a hand loosely over her shorts.

Her fingers just slightly press against her core. She’d never do anything intimate in such a public and crowded place. But the sight of you fucking Eunha only a few meters away from the crowd turns her on. Kazuha bites her lip as she presses down on her core a little harder. Very very slowly, she moves her hand up and down. The alcohol and the increasing need slowly makes her body burn up. If only she could… 

Her fingers linger on her belt. In that moment she sees someone walking towards you and Eunha. She sighs in disappointment. Kazuha watches how you quickly step back and reach towards your pants, while Eunha, still a little out of it, straightens her hair and her skirt. The two of you pretend like nothing happened. And after a couple of words, Eunha and her friend exit the kitchen.

“Goodbye! Get home safe!”

As soon as the door closes, you press Eunha flat against it. The two of you quickly lose yourselves in a heated make out session. After getting interrupted earlier, the both of you are too horny to even wait a second. Eunha’s house is now empty. Everyone is gone. Only the two of you are here. And you make use of that.

Because you are still hard from earlier, Eunha doesn’t bother with giving you another blowjob. As soon as your pants are off, she spits into her hand and reaches for your shaft. The two of you look into each other’s eyes as she strokes you, coating your cock with her spit.

“I need you so bad. Fuck me hard.”

Her words make you kiss her once more, your hands roam her body. You enjoy the feeling of her curves under your palms. Eventually, you push her towards the couch. Eunha quickly throws away a jacket someone left there and puts an empty bottle on the table next to it. Now that you have enough space, you bend Eunha over the armrest. You are doing this quickly. You can’t wait any longer to finally feel Eunha’s pussy properly.

“Fill me, oppa.”

She sighs as you lift up her skirt, exposing her ass and her pussy as well. Your hand slides over her wet labia, making sure she is wet enough, before you align yourself with her core. Slowly pushing inside of her, you press Eunha further into the soft armrest. The two of you take deep breaths as each of you try to get accustomed to this new feeling. Your length makes Eunha feel full. She can tell how you’re stretching her out. At the same time, you can’t help but compare Eunha’s pussy with Tiffany’s. She is tighter. That much is clear. But Tiffany is also a little smoother than Eunha on the inside. Maybe that’s because Tiffany is just wetter than Eunha. Either way, both of them feel amazing. And now, Eunha’s snatch lures you further inside. Her body wants to feel more of you.

You place your hands on her back, leaning over her. Now she can’t escape, fully trapped in between you and the armrest. After pulling out almost entirely, you thrust back inside. 

“Holy fuck…”

Eunha’s lust filled sigh makes you smirk as her body gets rocked forward. 

“How was I able to wait this long? It feels so good…”

You’re not sure if she is talking to herself, but you lean down further and kiss her neck. 

“You’re so hot, Eunha.”

Another thrust makes her move once more. Her face is now on the same height as the small coffee table next to the sofa. Eunha can’t help but stare at the picture that is standing on it as you give her another thrust. Her and her sister on vacation. The one you saw earlier.

“I’m such a slut. Fuck me hard.”

She whines, turned on by the thought of having her sister in the picture watch her getting fucked.

You notice how her eyes are glued to the photo. You hesitate as you keep fucking her, but eventually you decide to speak your mind.

“Wonyoung is so hot, Eunha.”

“You really think so?”

Her breath quickens, but she almost sounds disappointed. You can feel how tight her pussy is around your cock. How it holds onto you, whenever you retreat.

“Of course. I bet she is the thightest.”

“Oh, fuck!”

Eunha didn’t think this would turn her on so much. She bites into the leather armrest, trying to prevent another yelp.

“And her face…I just want to ruin it. This little brat.”

Eunha’s eyes roll to the back of her head as your cock reaches her deepest depths. She cant’ belive she is getting fucked in her parent’s living room. Right in front of a picture of herself and her sister. 

“Yes, ruin her. Make her cheat on her stupid boyfriend. I bet your cock is way bigger than his.”

Her whines make you kiss her neck again, before whispering into her ear.

“Do you like it when I talk about fucking your sister, while I use you as a fleshlight?”

Another whine. Eunha nods weakly, your cock seems to push all of her energy out of her with every thrust.

“Yes, I like it. I like it when you use me like a slut.”

You fuck her harder, too turned on by her words to hold yourself back.

“That’s what you are, Eunha. A slut.”

The word rings in her ears as you pound her from behind. She can almost feel how it invades her mind, how it makes her feel good.

“Yes, I’m a slut. Your little slut, oppa.”

Her cries have you press down on her back further. You can feel how her body tenses under your weight. How her pussy clenches around your length.

“That’s why you always wear these short skirts. You love it when everyone can see your thighs and ass.”

“That’s true. I love to feel like a slut.”

You push Eunha’s body further over the armrest, until she almost falls over. Your thrusts now reaching even deeper inside of her. Her ass is now at the perfect angle for you to give it a nice slap.

"Harder, oppa!”

Eunha cries out, when you hit her cheek. The flesh ripples even more, because you keep fucking her. Her walls tighten around you with every following thrust.

“Damn, Eunha. You’d do anything for my cock, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I would. Anything.”

Another slap almost makes her sob. 

“You’re such a pathetic slut, Eunha. I’d rather fuck your little sister.”

The volume of her whines increase with two more slaps on each of her cheeks. Her head is hanging so low by now that Eunha has to look up to see the picture of her sister.

"Do it, oppa! Please! I’m just a worthless slut.”

Her cry almost makes you feel pity. Her pussy still has a tight grip on your cock and her walls massage you during every thrust. How could you ever think about someone else while you fuck her?

“No you aren’t, Eunha.”

Your kiss on her lower back is more affectionate this time. More loving.

“You are a good girl. And so fucking hot.”

Instead of spanking her, you now squeeze her cheeks softly, soothing the pain from earlier just a little.

“I’m not. You are right, oppa. I’m a huge slut.”

Her whine makes you fuck her harder. Your hands are both now holding onto her waist. You rock her body back and forth. Every thrust makes Eunha lose control further. Her legs can’t support her anymore. They are too weak by now. She is just hanging off the armrest, while you fuck her from behind.

“Don’t put yourself down like that. You’re beautiful, Eunha. I’m in love with your body.”

You hear her gasp and moan at your words. Eunha’s body is all warm and light. Her pussy is taking your cock so well, her walls stretching around it to take in as much as possible.

“Thank you, oppa. I really want to be a good girl for you.”

“Then ride me.”

You peel her off the armrest and lift her up. She’s lighter than you expected. As you move her around to sit on your lap, her foot hits a bottle on the coffee table in front of you. She knocks it over and it falls to the floor.

“I’m sorry, oppa.”

Eunha whines, but her pussy tingles as she looks down to see your cock lying against it.

“I changed my mind. You really are a bad girl. A slut.”

Eunah whimpers as you lift her and ease yourself inside her once more.

“I-I’m not a slut. You said-”

“I lied. You’re nothing but a set of holes.”

A moan leaves her lips as she glides along your length.

“Oppa…”

Her disappointed sigh makes you lift her up and drop her again.

“Shut it.”

You wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her close.

“I wish you were Wonyoung. She is way prettier than you. And tighter.”

Eunha whines as you make her ride your cock. You lift her up far enough, so her feet are planted on your thighs, while her pussy moves up and down on your cock.

“But I’m doing my best. Isn’t my pussy tight enough for you?”

“You mean this pathetic little cunt?”

You give her clit a light slap.

Eunha gasps and moans. Her body shakes. You feel bad for a moment. Was that too much? Did you hurt her?

“I’m sorry, oppa. You’re right. Wonyoungs pussy is better than mine.”

Her sobs tell you that it did hurt. At least a little. You kiss her neck, wanting to ease the pain.

“But please use me, while she isn’t here. I’ll do my best for you.”

“I don’t know if that’s gonna be enough, slut.”

Throughout the next couple of hours, Eunha proves what a good slut she can be time and time again. By now, the two of you made it to her room. You don’t remember how many times you’ve already filled her pussy up, but Eunha seems as hungry for your cum as before. Now she is riding you again. You lie flat on her bed, while she keeps bouncing on your cock. Her clothes are all gone by now. Her naked body captivates you, your eyes currently focused on her tits. You reach up to them. You play with them, squeeze them, pinch her nipples. It all makes Eunha ride you faster.

“Am I a good slut for you, oppa?”

You were able to taste the alcohol on her lips during your kiss at her front door. But now it seems to be completely gone as she leans down to give you another kiss.

“Yes, you are. Such a tight, good little slut.”

Her proud smile turns into an O as your tip grazes her deepest spot. Her tight pussy squeezes you hard. Her hands on your chest  make her nails dig into your skin.

“Oppa…!”

Her cry rings in your ears as Eunha almost collapses on top of you. But you hold her in place. Her limb body too weak to move. You start to thrust into her from underneath. A couple of weak moans leave her lips. You’re close as well. You can feel it. Her small orgasm has pushed you towards the edge. Her walls still give you irregular squeezes. Her cute face wordlessly begs you for another load.

You tighten your grip on her hips. A couple of more ups and downs, until you finally hold her in place. Eunha’s ass is pressed against your lap as you shoot your cum deep inside of her. Your classmate moans, feeling your seed invade her pussy.

“Oppa…”

You let go of her waist and she sinks onto your chest.The two of you stay in place after a long night of partying and sex. You feel her chest heave and her face on your chest. You listen to Eunha’s breaths. They become slower and slower. And eventually, she falls asleep.

You wake up alone. It’s a slow process. But eventually you are able to realize where you are. Still at Eunha’s. You hear her rummaging around downstairs. After a couple of minutes, you finally reach the foot of the stairs. You’re worn out and still tired. But since today is a holiday, you don’t have to go to school.

It seems like Eunha has already cleaned up most of the party from yesterday. You spot her standing in the kitchen. She is wearing nothing but a black bra and matching panties. You can already feel how the sight of her makes you hard again. Why are you so horny lately?

“Hello, there.”

Eunha gives you a bright smile. Walking up to her, you watch what she is doing. Breakfast.

"Morning."

You walk up behind her and wrap your arms around her waist.

“Is that oatmeal?”

Eunha definitely caught your lack of excitement.

“It is. But only for me. Your breakfast is over there.”

She points at the bag of cereal on the edge of the counter. A bowl and milk next to it.

“Great.”

You start to make your own breakfast.

“Is this Wonyoung’s?”

You catch her hesitating, before she nods.

“It is.”

“Hey,...”

You reach out for her arm.

“Sorry about last night. I got carried away a little.”

Eunah smiles at you.

“It’s fine. It was kinda…hot.”

You smile back at her and pour the milk into the bowl with the cereal.

“But just to make things clear: This was just pure sex. Nothing more.”

You look at her and nod. 

“No problem."

You walk up behind her again. You just can’t help it. She just looks so good when she wears only underwear. Eunha bites her lip when she feels your cock press against her cheeks.

“But I hope we can have some more fun now?”

“I’d love to.”

Eunha leans back and captures your lips with hers. You let your hands wander over her chest, giving her tits a couple of squeezes.

“But I’m sure my mom is coming home soon. We will have to be quick.”

“Don’t worry. This won’t take long.”

Eunha chuckles as she feels you pulling her panties off her hips. Your boxers lie on the floor a second later.

“Oh, yes.”

Eunha sighs, her hands pressed flat against the surface of the counter in front of her as you push inside. Her pussy feels familiar to you by now. Warm and tight. Just wet enough for you to fuck her properly after a couple of slow thrusts.

“We definitely need to do this again sometime.”

She sighs dreamily, eyes only half open as she feels you slowly pushing in and out of her. The two of you are still sleepy, so you don’t go too hard. Another moan leaves Eunha’s lips as you push a little deeper. Her head falls back. You kiss her upper back, her shoulders, her neck. Her skin feels smooth under your lips. You close your eyes as the two of you get lost in the pleasure that both your bodies provide for one another.

Suddenly, the two of you freeze.

“Was that a car?”

“Shit, shit, shit! My mom!”

You can see the fear in Eunha’s eyes. It was already dangerous enough to throw a party at her house, without permission. But if her mother catches her while she gets plowed in her kitchen…

[pathologicalreid]

hello my new favorite tumblr writer 😇 i will b honest i have never requested anything before so!! bear with me. however the spencer reid brainrot is all too real SO would you be open to doing anything with a hotchner!fem!reader? bau or not for the reader! something something hotch is very hesitant about their relationship but maybe reader gets caught in the crossfire of something and hotch and prentiss see them together afterward and prentiss is like “that looks pretty real to me.” DOES THAT MAKE ANY SENSE OKAY I’M LEAVING NOW THANK YOUUUU 🫡

a father's daughter | S.R.

in which your father doesn't approve of your relationship, but who knows how he'll react when reid jumps into action after a threat against your life

who? spencer reid x hotchner!fem!bau!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, blood, stitches, hospitals, medical inaccuracy word count: 2.03k a/n: anon you are legendary. this is an incredible request and i am so honored to be your new favorite tumblr writer! i am an absolute sucker for anything hotchner!reader (or rossi!reader) so i absolutely ate this request up! (also if anyone wanted to drop a request in my inbox... it would be welcome)

Aaron Hotchner was the most professional person in the BAU, except when it came to you. You, like him, had gone to law school. You were a public defender for just a short time before being put into WITSEC, and when your mother died, you applied to the FBI Academy.

Plain and short, it was nepotism, but no one was going to argue with the man whose wife was murdered by a serial killer. Your dad wanted you in the BAU so he could keep an eye on you, and there was nothing Erin Strauss could do about it. What your father couldn’t control, was your relationship with Reid.

He could tell you that he didn’t approve, but so long as David Rossi, king of inter-bureau mingling, was around, he couldn’t actually do anything to stop you. “I’m just saying that I’ve never seen Reid be consistent with a relationship,” your dad said, having pulled you away from the team to, once again, try to warn you off of your relationship.

“He’s been pretty consistent for the last seven months,” you responded, rifling through the victims' files that were in your arms.

You started to make your way out of the empty office when your father spoke again, “And he’s too old for you.”

Stopping in your tracks, you pivoted and faced your father, “He’s three years older than I am, I’m twenty-six. That’s hardly an age gap to bat an eye at.” The two of you had always had a rocky relationship, he missed a large portion of your childhood due to this job and you always tried to not resent him for it.

Your parents’ marriage fell apart, neither of them handled it well, and you weren’t all that surprised. They had gotten married when your mom got pregnant with you because they thought that was what they were supposed to do, and when Jack couldn’t keep them together, everything fell apart.

“You have no right to lecture me on relationships, Agent Hotchner,” you snapped, staring him down. Daring him to challenge you.

He sighed, obviously trying not to lose his patience with you. “I’d just hate for you to find out you wasted your time on something that wasn’t real.”

The door behind you swung open, you spun on your heels to face Emily. “Sorry, uh, we have a location, Morgan’s coordinating with SWAT,” she said, looking between you and your father.

“Great, let’s go,” your father said, his parental demeanor falling away as his Unit Chief mask took its place.

You walked out the door to see the rest of the team, Rossi tossed you a Kevlar vest as you walked over to where Spencer was standing with the police chief, “Where are we headed?” You asked, undoing the Velcro on the vest and pulling it over your torso. The beige precinct was buzzing as agents and officers prepared to break into the UnSub’s home base. Hopefully to find his most recent victim still alive.

Reid reached over and adjusted the strap of your vest, making sure it was evenly tightened over your shoulders. “Garcia found a warehouse on the other side of town. It’s being rented out under an anagram of the first victim’s name,” he said, gently squeezing your arm before dropping his hands back to his side.

Nodding, you followed the rest of the team out the metal doors of the precinct and into the black SUVs. “Your UnSub’s name is Jonas Watts, he used a different name to rent the space but the account he uses to pay for it is under his name,” Garcia’s voice rang through the speaker as she told you about the perpetrator. “He checks every UnSub box we have, raised by a single father after his mother left, and… oh, multiple arrests for assault.”

You looked up to the driver’s seat, your dad was white-knuckling the steering wheel, entirely focused on driving as you listened to Garcia reciting the UnSub’s rap sheet.

When you arrived at the warehouse SWAT was already there and Morgan started organizing the tactical assault. Drawing your weapon, you nodded at your teammate when he instructed you to go around the back with himself and your father. Allowing Morgan to kick the door down, the three of you held your firearms up and began clearing the warehouse.

Further away, you heard Emily and Spencer clearing the front. “Clear, moving up,” you called into your radio as you approached the stairs, stepping on them carefully so they didn’t creak. On the landing, you looked at a trail of blood on the ground. “There’s a blood trail in the upper west wing,” you whispered.

“Move up, little Hotch, I’m right behind you,” Morgan responded.

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, one that you had begged him to stop using, you moved forward, keeping your firearm aimed right in front of you. Turning into the room that the blood trail led to, you immediately ducked when you saw a knife coming for you. Keeping your gun aimed, you faced down the UnSub, “Jonas Watts, FBI!” You announced yourself, scanning the room for the girl he took last night.

Watts shook his head, “You’re not supposed to be here! You can’t be here!” He shouted in distress.

“Where’s the girl, Jonas? Where did you take Isobel?” You asked him, not seeing her in the room the two of you were in. There was another entrance on the left of him.

He stepped toward you, and you cocked your gun, “I don’t have her now. I lost her, she’s lost,” he said, there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Unnerved, you decided to take a leap of faith, “Jonas, where’s your partner?” A partner hadn’t been part of the profile, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. The crimes were too complex, it didn’t match up with something as simple as using an anagram of a victim���s name for the warehouse rental.

Morgan filed in behind you, aiming his gun at Jonas, same as you. “Time’s running out, Jonas. If you tell us about your partner we can help you,” he said, slowly inching toward Watts.

“It’s too late,” Jonas wailed.

Someone knocked into you from behind, causing you to stumble forward before you were pulled to your feet. One arm was locked around your torso, and another was holding a knife to your throat. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll cut her fucking throat!” The unnamed man said from behind you, he was almost impossibly tall, easily overpowering you.

You didn’t dare move, not with that knife to your throat, one false move and you’d bleed out. Morgan shouted for him to let you go, but he just pressed the knife tighter to your neck, splitting the skin.

Shutting your eyes, you tried not to cry, fearing the damage it would do to your throat.

Your captor held you tightly to him, using your body to block Morgan from shooting. Something warm trickled down your collarbone, and you weren’t sure if it was blood or tears.

For a moment, you thought you could swing your foot back into his knee, but the fear of having your carotid cut outweighed your bravery.

Ever since you were a kid, you thought death would be quiet. Something you slipped into like sleep, but your death was loud, and it left your ears ringing.

The afterlife was the weirdest place you’ve ever been, someone was calling your name, and you heard your rights being read. Although, why you would need your Miranda Rights in the afterlife you had no idea.

“Angel, please open your eyes,” someone said.

Confused, you opened your eyes and saw familiar eyes staring down at you. Golden and bleary. Spencer, Spencer was here. You tried to sit up, but he held you down, keeping a hand on your throat.

Morgan was shouting for medical, saying there was an agent down. You turned your head to see the still unidentified UnSub on the ground, shot through the temple. Using his free hand to turn your chin, “Don’t look,” Spencer whispered. “You’re okay, I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, angel.”

If you weren’t still coming down from an adrenaline high, you might’ve smiled at the irony of the nickname. Being called ‘angel’ after having your neck cut felt like tempting fate.

Where was your dad? Of everyone here, you expected him to be here, barking orders at people.

As if summoned by your thoughts, your dad appeared, nearly hauling an EMT behind him, “Help her,” he said.

Yeah, that absolutely tracked.

The EMT’s packed your wound and assured everyone that your carotid had not been slit, against your protests, the ambulance brought you to the hospital for stitches. Emily had run to the hotel to get your go bag, allowing you to change out of your bloodied clothes.

Thankfully, the doctors said you didn’t need to stay overnight, meaning you and the team got to go home. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked while you were waiting to board the jet.

You hummed, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes, and leaning against a car, “Tired, but I’m alright.” Tired might have been underselling it, you felt like all of the energy had been physically drained from your body. “You worry too much,” you whispered, closing your eyes for just a moment. Your throat was a little raspy, but it should go back to normal after a couple of days.

“Your throat was cut about four hours ago, some might say I’m not worrying enough,” he responded, reaching down, and picking up your bag, carrying it over to the jet once they got the okay to board. On the jet, he gestured to the seat, “Lay down, get some rest.”

You furrowed your brows, “Isn’t it kind of frowned upon to take up a whole seat?” You asked, of course, sometimes it happened, but you didn’t want to take up too much space.

Spencer cocked his head at you, “I don’t think anyone is going to fight you on it, love.”

Taking a deep breath, you sat down on the seat, laying down and closing your eyes, falling asleep before you even left the tarmac.

Being the Unit Chief had its perks, surely, but the piles of paperwork sometimes felt never-ending. Aaron took a deep breath before he closed the file, Rossi sat across from him, nursing a glass of whiskey.

“Hey,” Prentiss whispered, taking the seat next to him and setting her glass of water down on the small table. “Do you see that?” She said, gesturing with her head toward where you were lying down, asleep.

Right next to you was Reid, who usually had his nose buried in a book at this point in a flight, but he was wide awake, and all of his focus seemed to be on you. Begrudgingly, Hotch watched as Spencer reached over and tucked a blanket around you as if he was afraid you’d freeze on the temperature-controlled jet. “What about it?” Hotch asked, reaching over for the next file.

His eyes flicked up again, Spencer was sitting on the floor of the jet. Everyone had elected to leave the couch seats for the two of you, but the one across the aisle from you was empty. Like Reid didn’t even want you to be any more than one foot away from him.

Leaning back in the chair, Emily shook her head, “That’s what we in the business call hypervigilance.”

Hotch didn’t respond, he just spared another glance over at the two of you. “’We in the business’?” He inquired, humoring Prentiss.

“I’m just saying… the hovering? The blanket? I don’t know about you, but that looks pretty real to me,” she said, leaning back in the leather seat.

Silently, he glared, it would seem his hopes of getting the team to stop eavesdropping on familial conversations were quashed.

“Just let the kids be, Aaron,” Rossi said, grinning into his glass.

He cleared his throat and flipped open the new file before he acquiesced, “Fine, for now.”

please reblog, like, and/or comment if you enjoyed 🩵

[ceoofyearning]

half algorithm, half deity - (Mafia AU) Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader (Rhysand’s Sibling)

Summary: You try to date other people, but in truth you’ve only ever wanted Eris Vanserra.

Tags/Warnings:

Explicit (18+, MINORS DNI), SMUT with plot, Angst, Modern Mafia AU, Established FWB, Mentions of past Tamlin x Reader (brief), Mentions canon typical violence, Mentions of minor character death (Rhysand’s mom and other sister)

Alcohol, Oral (M & F receiving), Rough but make it tender & loving too, Hair pulling, P in V, Overstim if you squint (please lmkif i missed anything)

Word Count: 6.5k

Links: Masterlist | My Art

Despite your father’s best efforts, you didn’t inherit your family’s propensity for violence. 

You drink your wine and remind yourself of that fact for the umpteenth time tonight. But if this male gives you another backhanded compliment or, Mother forbid, another unsolicited criticism, you might reconsider that fact. Rhys had made sure you knew how to gut a man in just three moves and you remember each precise stroke as effortlessly as a breath.

To dissuade yourself from such thoughts, you take another generous gulp of wine - your only saving grace as you listen to him drone on and on about his most recent business acquisition. For the past forty-five minutes, the man has managed to recount his entire genealogy, his academic history and recited what felt like an itemized list of all his professional accomplishments. This is supposed to be a date, you’re tempted to remind him, not a chance to whip out his dick and measure it. 

He has yet to ask you anything about yourself, of course, entirely preoccupied with stroking his damn ego. You’ve stopped trying after the fifth cycle of appropriately timed ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s, seeing he doesn’t seem to need you to continue his tirade. Your pointed glares and longing glances at your wristwatch remain unnoticed too. The number of drinks you’ve had seems to be an entirely different story, however. 

"You know, you should really slow down," he remarks, his sardonic smirk exposing a set of eerily straight white teeth.

“And why is that, exactly?” You ask before taking another long sip of wine with deliberate slowness. His jaw clenches ever so slightly, his smile little more than a collection of clenched teeth. 

“You wouldn’t want to be too drunk for later.” He makes a show of raking his beady eyes over your form. The predatory glint in his eye makes your skin crawl and your hackles raise in equal measure. 

“Bold of you to assume there would be a later,” you drawl, your eyes narrowing into slits, nostrils flaring in silent outrage. 

“Oh, there will,” he declares with an impressive amount of unearned confidence. “How else are you going to pay me back for this meal, sweetheart?” He says it as though it’s a given, like your body is something he’s owed for this paltry display. Fuck, if you don’t leave now, you’re sure you’ll end this night behind bars, probably charged with manslaughter. Rhys would get you out of it, of course, but he’d be incredibly smug about it and you couldn’t have that. 

The man makes another show of tracing his slimy gaze over your body, making a pleased sound in the back of his throat. “I must say, I wasn’t a big fan of the dress - too revealing to be classy, in my opinion - but I suppose it wouldn’t matter when it’s on the floor of my penthouse.”

You admit that you don’t try very hard to hold back a gag. Without even dignifying him with a response, you hail the waiter and gesture for the bill in the hopes that the expression on your face is enough to convey the urgency you feel. To her credit, it only takes her a minute to rush to the table in all black and white salvation, the bill in hand. 

With haste, you pull out the cash from your wallet and slam it down the table. It should be enough to cover everything, even the tip. You give the man one last scathing glare before you rise from the table. A fish out of water - that’s what he looks like, wide-eyed with his mouth opening and closing, probably on the cusp of claiming to everyone in the room that you’re crazy, that you’re overreacting.

Before he can do any of that you pivot sharply towards the exit, ignoring the man’s indignant sputtering. Your feet protest beneath you, your new stilettos digging painfully into your skin with every step. Only when you’re five blocks away from the restaurant do you let yourself slow to a stop. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, undoubtedly ruining the makeup you spent such a long time putting on earlier that night. 

Suddenly, the dress you felt so confident in now feels suffocating. The fabric clings to your skin fat too tightly, constricting your every movement. The silken garment you had thought to fit you like a glove now surrounded you like a cage. You tug at the neckline, trying to find some relief, but the discomfort only intensifies.

Frustration bubbles in your gut as you collapse onto the nearest bench to catch your breath. You feel so stupid. Although you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been looking forward to a nice night out after an entire week of slogging through work. Instead, you ended up sacrificing what little free time you have to satisfy some asshole’s vanity. 

The city continues in indifferent chaos around you. The fluorescent streetlights overhead and the headlights of passing cars slice through the night. People bustle past, absorbed in their own lives, oblivious to your existence. At this moment, you’ve never felt more alone. 

Seeing Feyre and Rhys fall in love has been an eye-opening experience. You’ve watched them gradually find happiness in each other, watched them build a life together. There’s also Nes and Cass, Viv and Kal - all so utterly content, so in painfully love. It is a relief to know that love is possible despite the kind of lives you live. After what happened - your gun slotted in between those bright forest eyes, finger frozen at the trigger; the stumbling string of sorries, of depthless regrets; white marble tiles stained crimson by blood - happiness hadn’t seemed like a possibility. All you’ve had since then are inconsequential flings and ill-conceived dalliances, nothing that could lead to anything more.

It’s difficult to admit that you want something more.

But since you’ve started seeing other people, it’s only been a series of disappointments one after the other. What made basic empathy and human decency such a scarce resource these days? In all honesty, you’re starting to lose hope, starting to think that maybe that love just isn’t in the cards for you. 

You cared for Tamlin in your own foolish, fumbling way. He was solid ground, he was stubborn certainty. He clung to control so tightly that his nails left angry red indents on his palm. In many ways, you were his antithesis, his unmaking. He tried to be good but the both of you hadn’t been good for each other. Perhaps the two of you had been too lonely, too stubborn, too fucking young to realize not all forms of love were healthy.

Eris Vanserra is an entirely different matter. He came to you as a flicker of flame in the darkest night. He was a breath of fresh air - a lungful of ember and possibility - setting you alight from the inside out. More importantly, Eris understands you the same way one side of a coin knows the other. That, however, didn’t mean you could be together. 

Perhaps in some ways, knowing made the longing worse.

Your hand clenches around air, around the vestige of a memory you can’t seem to let go of. Your fingers itch to dial the same set of numbers you’ve deleted from your phone time and time again. You remember it anyway, though. Your mind has faithfully cataloged every memory of him - silky red hair brushing against your cheek, amber eyes crinkling in mischievous delight, arms wrapping around your body, making you feel safe for the first time in your life. 

Your body moves before your better judgment can catch up. Before you know it, the familiar set of numbers is staring accusingly at you from your phone screen. Droning rings of an outgoing call pierce the silence. On the third one, Eris picks up. 

“Firefly.” That word. You can hear the amusement in his tone. You refuse to acknowledge the hint of relief you sense there too, the note of near manic joy. It’s been months since you’ve last seen each other, since you told him that you needed something more - more than stolen moments, more than simply falling in and out of each other's beds only to be nothing but mere strangers come morning. 

You say nothing, trapping unsaid words behind teeth clenched so tightly it’s a wonder you don’t break your jaw. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Eris laughs, smooth, sensual, and utterly addicting. The sound sends a shiver down your spine. You fight the sudden urge to feel his lips shape the words with your own, to feel the vibrations of his laughter with the tips of your fingers. 

“Tell me where you are,” he tries again. You can hear him lean back on his office chair, undoubtedly working late yet again. To anyone else, he would’ve sounded perfectly calm. 

“I don’t know,” you sniff, fighting back the traitorous tears. “I’m near the Moonstone Palace.” It’s the overpriced restaurant you had been in earlier, the reason you’re going to have to struggle with rent this month. You could always ask Rhys, but you’ve long since divorced yourself from your family’s wealth.

Eris exhales, and you hear a suspicious amount of rummaging in the background. “Could you send your location to me?” He suggests, and you can make out the faint sound of a door opening and closing. 

“Okay.” It comes out as a resigned sigh. 

Before he hangs up, he makes sure, “Are you safe?”

“I am.” 

“Give me fifteen minutes.” 

Eris arrives in ten.

You’re slumped on the bench, clutching your purse to your chest as the frigid night air rushes past you. In your haste, you completely forgot to retrieve your coat before rushing out of the restaurant. But then, the low growl of an engine captures your attention. You turn to find a sleek black Benz gliding into view before coming to a halt right in front of you. 

The window rolls down to reveal Eris’s smug face, familiar and foreign all at once. His bright fiery locks, longer now, have been tamed into a braid behind his back. Loose strands frame his sharp features, highlighting the severity of his beauty. He looks paler than usual, freckles now barely visible across his cheeks. 

Eris grins, voice laced with far too much delight. “Didn’t I tell you, Love? You wouldn’t be able to stay away.” 

Your nostrils flare involuntarily, equal parts irritation and wry amusement warring in you. When he notices the redness of your eyes, however, his smile banks. The only reason you can tell he’s worried is because you’ve spent an inordinate amount of time learning his tells, mapping the meaning behind the slivers of genuine emotion that sometimes slip through his carefully constructed mask. You’ve got it down to a science, interpreting him the same way astronomers find reason in the depths of the cosmos.

Without another sly remark, he steps out of the car and slips out of his coat as he strides toward you. When he moves to wrap the garment around your body, you try to protest. “That won’t be necessary.”

“You’re freezing,” he insists before dropping the surprisingly heavy coat over your shoulders. The effect is immediate. Eris is a walking furnace most days and traces of his heat still linger on the cloth, thawing the ice that has gathered beneath your skin.

You groan in relief despite yourself, finally acquiescing and pulling his coat tighter around you. Eris smirks, and you shoot him a perfunctory glare in response. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t comment on the way you bury your face in the upturned lapels, inhaling a lungful of his cinnamon and woodsmoke scent.

“Fun night?” He asks once you’ve plopped down the passenger seat. 

“Obviously,” you reply, words thick with sarcasm. “I had the time of my life, really. Nothing like a date with another entitled, self-involved trust fund asswipe to liven up my Saturday night.” Eris looks entirely too pleased with this information. 

He shrugs. “Your dates can’t compare?” He shoots you a knowing look. You resent the implication, but can’t entirely deny it either. 

The truth of the matter is that you’ve never truly gotten over Eris. As brief as your explosive affairs may have been, the male has found a way to burrow beneath skin, to etch himself onto the surface of your mind. There is no washing him off you. In these last few months, all you’ve done is find fragments of him in faceless men. 

“Can’t compare to your arrogance, maybe,” you retort a beat too late.

 

“Oh Firefly, you know you love it,” the smug bastard shoots back smoothly. 

“You think you know me so well,” you grumble, crossing your arms defensively.

“Well enough.” Eris’s smile widens, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Well enough to know those men you’ve found aren’t worth your time.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he is at least vaguely aware of your failed attempts at dating. Embarrassment coils in your gut, betrayed only by the steadily rising flush of your cheeks. “Maybe one day I’ll find someone who doesn’t make me want to scream.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, a hint of mischief lingering in his eyes. “But where’s the fun in that?” He leans toward you, face hovering over yours. The intensity of his gaze feels dangerous, almost like a threat, a promise that he could easily tear down all your walls if he pleased. Memories flash - of him devouring your mouth with his own, of bare bodies intertwined on soiled sheets, of him greedily drinking in each moan from your mouth as you clench tightly around his length - playing on torturous repeat in your mind. 

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” Your breaths come short, voice trembling. Eris’s smile widens, canines glinting beneath the warm light - a well-honed predator to and through. 

Eris chuckles. “And yet, here you are.”

You sincerely can’t tell whether you want to clock him in the jaw or pull him down for a kiss. But then, in a rare show of mercy, Eris withdraws. He simply pulls your seatbelt down and fastens it beside you before turning back to the wheel. You release a breath you don’t realize you are holding. 

The engine roars beneath you and Eris begins to maneuver the car back onto the highway. You slump further down in your seat, only to have several objects dig into your ribs. You jolt up, patting down his coat for the offending items. In your search, you produce a stiletto hidden in the inner lining and a Glock 19 in one pocket. 

“Really?” You quirk your brow at him as you drop another knife on the car floor.

Amber eyes dart towards you for the briefest second, a ghost of a smirk on his lips, before turning his gaze back to the road. You don’t doubt Eris has more hidden on his person, maybe even in this car. 

“Can’t be too careful,” he replies with a shrug, his hand flexing on the wheel. You follow the movement with rapt attention, transfixed by the rhythmic contractions of the muscles beneath, by the faint blue of the veins that run in webs up his forearm. 

Eris, the bastard, catches your preoccupation with his body. Of course, he does. 

His smirk widens into a full grin, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Enjoying the view?"

You snap your gaze back to his face, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Keep your eyes on the road," you remind him, stalling, trying to regain your composure. “Perhaps you should put up a show for me, and I’ll decide then.” 

Eris chuckles at the challenge, a deep, resonant sound that never fails to send shivers down your spine. 

The rest of the drive to your apartment is spent in comfortable silence, Eris content to leave you in your corner, brooding and bundled up in his coat. You lean your head on the window, letting your thoughts drift by at the same pace the scenery slips away from view. You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until you feel Eris tucking strands of your hair behind your ear.

“We’re here.” 

Your eyes flutter open, reality reluctantly coalescing into focus in front of you. There's an amused expression on the redhead's face as he watches you wake. A part of you is tempted to curl back into a ball, content to pretend at peace just a little longer. Eris has no such qualms, however. He undoes your seatbelt and tugs you out of the vehicle. His arms remain loosely wrapped around your waist, though, even as he closes the door to the passenger seat.

“I should go.” He is so close his hot breath brushes against your cheek, the scent of mint permeating the air between you. 

“You should.” 

But none of you move to part. Your hands remain tightly fisted on his otherwise pristine shirt, while his arms create a cage around you, his body pressing you against the cool metal of the car. 

“Why did you call?” Eris asks instead. His cheek rests on your temple, his nose buried in your hair like he can’t quite help but gravitate towards you. Your grip on him tightens the same way the sun pulls celestial bodies into its orbit, completely, inevitably.  

“You know why.” 

“Tell me anyway.” He pulls back just enough to look straight into your eyes, molten amber burning into you. 

“I want you.” You confess. I’ve only ever wanted you, your mind further supplies. His gaze is searching, as if scouring for all the ways he can turn over your words in his head if the new angles would reveal some hidden meaning.

“I want to forget.” You continue, tugging him down by the collar. He follows willingly and rests his forehead on yours. Lips hover over your own, breaths mingling in the scant space between you. His mask turns translucent. Joy, pain, and regret flash in quick succession across his face before you can even parse their meaning.

“As do I, Love.” 

The moment you step into your apartment, all traces of tenderness dissipate. 

Eris has you trapped between the wall and the firm line of his lithe body. He easily towers over you. With one thigh wrapped around his slim waist, only his firm grip on your hips and his thigh slotted between your parted legs keep you upright. Your remaining leg stands precariously on the tips of your toes, teetering dangerously in whichever current Eris pulls you in.

His mouth is latched onto your neck, leaving blooms of red in his wake. You should tell him to stop, tell him not to leave any visible marks. But all words and reason are lost to you when his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin in time with a particularly well-timed roll of his hips. 

“Eris!” You keen, clawing at his back in a vain attempt to find purchase. But there is no safe harbor to be found, not here. Eris is a force of nature. He is the living embodiment of wildfire, burning brightly, holding you so firmly, that it’s as though he intends to fuse your bodies together.

“What is it, Firefly?” He whispers the words against your ear, right before he catches your lobe in between his teeth. You can feel his lips curl against your skin. “What does my pretty girl want?”

“You.” It comes out as a demand, a desperate plea. 

“Use your words, love.” His movements settle into a languid pace, excruciatingly slow, pulling a whine from your throat. His single hand encompasses your entire jaw. Pads of his fingers press against the joint, his grip firm but gentle. Eris turns your face so you’re looking straight into his burning eyes. “Let’s try again, shall we? Tell me, how do you want me?” 

“I need your cock in my mouth,” you whisper your want against his lips, confessions you’d never be able to make in the light of day. Amber eyes roll back at the image your words evoke. Eris forces his eyelids shut as you continue to speak. “Then, I want to feel you inside me, fuck me into the mattress, until your name is the only word in my mind, until I can feel you for days after.” 

“Firefly.” With his face in the crook of your neck, he groans like you’re torturing him. You allow him a few short moments to gather himself - heavy heated breaths blown onto your nape - before tugging him by the hair insistently. His braid comes loose and a river of red falls in delicate curls over his freckled shoulders. Eris is an entirely different person when his head snaps up to meet your gaze.

“On your knees.” 

Electricity crackles through the air between you at the sheer command in his voice. Obediently, you sink to his feet, gazing up at him with wide hungry eyes. To his credit, Eris’s expression remains impassive, his ardor betrayed only by the tension in his jaw and the glint in his eyes. With his thumb, he presses down on your bottom lip. 

“Suck.” 

Your mouth parts to welcome him, until you feel the cool press of his signet against your lips, a welcome contrast. You swirl your tongue around the digit, bobbing your head for a few beats. Eris clenches his jaw, the pad of his thumb lightly digging onto your tongue as he pulls it out. You release it with a pop of your lips.

“Good.” 

Eris tilts his head, a silent permission to continue. While you gradually slip off his belt and undo the zip of his trousers, Eris gathers your hair in his fist. With a single push, his impressive length is revealed to you, long and heavy. Anticipation sparks in your chest, eager to feel his weight on your tongue.

“Go on then.” 

So you do. You flatten your tongue against the base of his cock, licking a stripe to the tip. There, you take the head into the wet heat of your mouth and suck. Eris makes an involuntary thrust, despite the tight leash he normally keeps around himself.

“Fuckin’ Hel,” he groans, grip now deliciously digging into your scalp. You moan your appreciation against him, and the male shudders in response. For a few moments, you simply alternate between lazily bobbing your head and swirling your tongue against him as best you can. Your hand twists in tandem to accommodate the remaining length of him. 

“You’re a damned tease,” he accuses. “A demon.”

With wide eyes, you blink innocently up at him from beneath your lashes. Eris scoffs, rolling his eyes, but allows the torturous cycle to continue. When you sense his movements grow more erratic, his muscles tensing beneath your palms, you slow your movements just in time to deny him his release. At the third time of doing this, Eris looks close to breaking.

“Enough.” He growls, the command reverberating through the silent room, through every fiber of your being. 

You still immediately, the intensity in his voice sending a thrill through you. He adjusts his grip on your hair, winding the strands around his knuckles and tugging lightly as if to test his grip. You groan at the bite of pain, your arousal dripping from you.

“I’m gonna fuck your pretty face now, Firefly.” He whispers with such disorienting tenderness. “Tap my thigh twice if it becomes too much, understand?” 

“Yes.” Your too-eager reply draws a lopsided smile from Eris’s otherwise stoic demeanor. “Please,” you add as an afterthought as you brace your hands against his thighs.

Eris tilts his head once more, and you take that as your signal to proceed. Your lips wrap around him, cheeks hollowing out, tongue curved around his length. His thrusts begin tentatively, but it doesn’t take long for him to find his rhythm. The head of his cock hits the back of your throat with each thrust, his firm grip on your hair directing each movement. You will yourself to relax, angling yourself to take him better, deeper. For a while, all your thoughts evaporate, your entire focus simply on breathing through your nose and watching the look of ecstasy unfold across his face. 

“You feel amazing around me.” Eris pants as he pushes impossibly deeper. You struggle to take him, throat spasming around him. “My good girl,” he coos, his thrusts stuttering. You groan against him when one stroke allows him to bottom out completely. Nose nuzzling the thin line of red on his lower stomach, tears bloom in your eyes. You look up, only to find him already gazing at you. His amber eyes were wide with want, transfixed at the sight of you taking him completely. 

“I’m about to come, Love. You’ll be a good girl and take it, won’t you?” A drawn out mhm is all the permission he needs. “Every. Last. Drop.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust. 

Then, on his final advance, Eris holds you there by the head until the very last moment, until the fire in your veins has spread into each lobe of your lungs. When you swallow around him, he chokes, rolling his hips into your mouth. Your fingers curl into claws against his thighs but you don’t tap out. He moves once, twice, then he’s gone. Eris allows you a bit of reprieve by retreating into your mouth as his length pulses the rest of his release onto your tongue. 

“Fuck.” He rasps. Then, with a single tug, he pulls you off of him and onto your two wobbly legs. Eris only gives you a few seconds to catch your breath before his mouth crashes against yours for a kiss. He groans as he tastes himself on your tongue. 

“So perfect for me, made to take me.” His hands roam your body as though eager to discover every square inch of exposed skin. This is Eris in his rawest form, you realize, all control turned into liquid flame in his hands. He practically tears your dress from your body, pushing down the silk until it pools on the floor. 

“Yesss,” you hiss, clawing at his shirt and shoving it off his broad shoulders. “Only you.” Heavy thunks follow soon after - the gun holstered at his side, the knife strapped to his thigh.

“I fucking love you.” He growls in between breaths. Without giving you a chance to reply, he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, nipping at the raw flesh. 

You don’t even realize he’s corralled you into your room before he pushes you onto the bed. He pulls you to the edge by the ankle. Eris stands tall before you, rendered in sharp angles and steady lines, softened only by the warmth in his amber eyes. Then, slowly, he kneels between your parted thighs like a supplicant before their God and your body is the only conduit of worship he knows. 

“You okay?” He asks this while his head is pillowed on your thigh, as though he hadn’t just blown your mind. Eris, you’ve discovered, is a collection of contrasts - rough one second, and painfully tender the next. No amount of studying him could let you predict the direction of his passion. You don’t mind, though, you’d happily be carried away in his current.

“Perfectly.” 

“You remember your word?” He removes your stilettos, brushing over the raw skin where the straps have dug in.

“I do.” 

“Say it for me.” He lines your heels neatly at the foot of your bed. 

“Ember.”

“Good.” Eris begins his meandering path up your legs. A kiss on your ankle, lips ghosting over your leg. Once his lips reach your thighs, he starts to nibble and suck on your skin. The simple declaration of possession shouldn’t please you as much as it does, but it only deepens the pool of desire and anticipation in your gut. 

“Eris,” you whine, breathless, as he pauses at the seam of your thigh. His smirk only grows at your increasingly desperate pleas and the erratic movements of your hips.

“Use your words, Firefly.” Eris reminds you beatifically. “Tell me what you want.”

“Your mouth,” you begin, already struggling to form a coherent string of words. “Please?” 

“My mouth?” He asks, pretending to consider it. “But I thought you said you wanted my cock?”

His taunting jolts you out of your reverie, always rearing to meet his fire with your own. You come up to your elbows to level him a raised brow. “Well, you’re already on your knees, aren’t you?” Despite knowing you’ll pay for your words later, you try to inject as much bravado into your voice as you can. The effect is dulled by your obvious desperation though.

Eris chuckles, shaking his head as if in disapproval. “What to try that again, Firefly?” He blows a hot breath towards your core, the sudden sensation sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. “I’m sure you can do better than that.” 

You clench your teeth, a vain attempt to keep the pleas trapped within your mouth. Eris remains steadfast, of course, staring you down with obvious amusement. His lips travel a languid path, teeth teasing, mouth nipping, veering closer and closer but never close enough. This is a battle you’ve already lost from the start. 

“Please?” You grit out. “Can I please have your mouth?” 

“You’re a greedy little thing aren’t you?” Eris laps at the marks he’s left, just a few millimeters from where you want him to be. Practically vibrating with need, you dangle on the sharp edge of anticipation. The bite Eris plants on the soft flesh of your thigh is what pushes you off the precipice.

“Please,” you plead, each syllable dripping with need.  “Can I please have your mouth?”

“Well, since you asked so prettily,” Eris drawls, entirely indulgent. He places your leg over his shoulder and dives in. First, he runs the flat of his tongue over your flimsy thong, lapping at your slit. You shudder at the sensation, melting against the sheets as he continues.

“You taste divine.” He growls, the vibrations making you tighten around nothing. Then, closes his mouth over your slit and begins to suck. You throw your head back, heel digging into his back, hips arching towards the pull of his mouth. Your arousal seeps into the cloth. A heartbeat, a fraction of eternity, then Eris licks the lace greedily like a man starved.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He mouths against the fabric. You feel the truth of his words as surely as the growing flame in your gut. Then, he slides your undergarments down one thigh, keeping it wrapped around the other, a mockery of a wedding garter. Finally, his lips close around your clit as he slides one long finger in you, then two, scissoring them inside. You release a choked sob. His fingers are much thicker than your own, but the stretch is a burn you’ve been craving for far too long. 

“Fuck, Firefly, you’re so damn tight.” He murmurs against your skin. He begins thrusting his fingers in and out of you, making it a point to curl his digits in just the right spot. The precision of his movements is enough to drive you out of your mind. Eris shifts between murmuring sweet nothings against your heated skin and drawing precise circles around your clit.

At some point, Eris’s free hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers with his own. It doesn’t take long for you to climb that familiar high. Hurtling over the edge so fast, you don’t even realize you’re cumming until you’re overtaken by a wave of pleasure. It saturates your senses until the only thing that makes sense is Eris, Eris, Eris. 

He doesn’t stop. His fingers hit that torturous angle, while his tongue laps at your bud. “One more,” he demands and you whine in protest. “Just one more, Love.” 

“‘S too much-“ you try to say, but your words crack into a sob. “I c-can’t-“

“You can,” he coos. “My good girl, my lovely little Firefly.” The praise does more for you than his hands could. “Always so perfect for me.” 

Desire is a living thing inside you, an inferno building beneath your skin. You crush his fingers in your grip, while the other threads itself through his silken locks, needing something to anchor you unspool for him.

“Eris, I’m-“ your voice cracks, reality blurring around you as you spasm around him, hips gyrating, driven only by pure primal instinct. He groans, as though your pleasure is as good as his own. His fingers speed up, his tongue licking your bud to and fro with dangerous precision.

“Cum for me, Firefly.”

You do. You break into flames with his name on your lips, back bowing, eyes trained to the unseen sky. You barely even register when Eris climbs into bed with you, too preoccupied with reacquainting yourself with your body. Only when he pulls your pliant form over his chest do you meet his gaze. 

“Are you alright?” There is concern in his gaze, and you wipe the worry from his face as you run your knuckles over his cheek. 

“Perfectly.” An invisible tug calls you to dip your head and taste yourself on his lips. Eris licks the seam of your mouth and waits patiently until your lips part for him. 

Without breaking contact, you wrap your hand around his girth and begin stroking him to full hardness. Your tongues meet, and you relish the trace of your taste in his mouth. Once his cock is ready, you line him up with your entrance. 

You lower yourself onto him, slowly, inch by inch, until you’re fully on his lap. For a moment, you simply stay like that, with him seated deep within you, lips locked in a languid ebb and flow. When you begin to move, you do it together, rising and falling in question and answer to the other. You wonder if there will always be this constant compulsion to have Eris near, the need to feel his skin against yours, to feel his beating heart thump in step with your own. Somehow, against all reason, he’s managed to worm his way into your life, to make a home for himself within the chambers of your heart.

Eris becomes the ruined wreckage of a man as you slide off him up until only the tip remains, before slamming back down. Eris keeps his gaze on you as though he’d rather die than miss a single moment of this. He groans, meeting each and every single one of your movements. His one hand grips your hip, guiding and grinding, fingers digging into you. The other cups your breast, his thumb tracing over your nipple. When your thighs begin to ache, legs quaking, powered only by desire and desperation, Eris easily flips you over. 

“Harder,” you choke out, “deeper.”

“So demanding,” Eris teases but seems happy enough to comply. He places a pillow beneath your hips. You almost whine at the pause, but Eris doesn’t give you a chance. He begins with an unforgiving pace, pistoning in and out of you with abandon. The new angle is torture specifically designed to tear your remaining sanity into shreds. Your legs lock around his waist, hands clasped tightly with his own. His lips hover over yours, drinking in each whimper, each moan, like it's ambrosia and you’re the sole source. 

“Are you about to cum for me, Love?” Eris breathes. And you nod frantically.

“Tell me, Firefly, who’s making you feel good, hm?” He punctuates the sentence with a hard thrust that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“You are,” you rasp, convulsing around him as his cock nudges the perfect spot inside of you.

“My name,” he demands.

“Eris.” It comes out as drawn out moan, a plea, a promise.

“And who do you belong to?” The force of each slam has you seeing sparks, and when he begins to circle your clit with his thumb? You’re gone, utterly defeated and consumed by the flame. 

“You!” You scream, repeating his name over and over and over. 

“That’s right,” he purrs. Your thighs shake, back arching completely off the mattress. The world breaks apart around you, reality melting into a flash of blinding light. He slows down and fucks you through the throes of rapture, extending seconds into eons while you flutter around him. With one last grind of his hips, you feel his cock throb as he spills deep inside you. 

Eris collapses on top of you, surrounding you in his scorching warmth. For a long while, only your shared breaths exist in the silence. He nuzzles deeper into the crook of your neck, as though unable to help himself.

Eris doesn’t tell you he loves you again. He shouldn’t, for both of your sakes. But you feel it in the featherlight kisses he leaves over your shoulder, his gentle touch as he traces each curve, line, and ridge of your body. He does it with such ease, as though it’s an art he’s perfected through the years, through lifetimes. 

Instinctively, you begin to run your hands over his back, fingers running over the lattice of faded scars there. Anger is a flaming arrow through your chest. Beron is not an easy father to have. Eris, as the prospective heir to his empire, receives the brunt of his brutal scrutiny. What you’d give to have the opportunity to tear that old bastard’s head from his shoulders.

As if sensing your sudden agitation, Eris’s roaming hands become more insistent, kneading away all the tension from your muscles. “Relax,” he whispers against your ear. 

Although he rolls off of you, he doesn’t go far. Without letting you out of the cage of his arms, he curls beside you like a cat, each plane of your bodies perfectly aligned. With his head resting over your heart, a rumble of contentment escapes him.

It’s startling to think that to anyone outside of this room, Eris is a villain, as well-versed in savagery as his father. But you know him, seen parts of him the world would never know. You and Eris have always been two sides of the same coin. 

He understands what it’s like to endure and inherit a father’s rage, to house a mother’s bottomless grief, to be saturated with so much shame it steals your every breath. The two of you are so different and yet are hewn from the same ore, forged from the same fire. Although there are a multitude of reasons why the both of you can’t be together, it feels as though Eris is the only one who's ever truly seen you as you are. 

But self-denial is a circus act you and Eris perform with practiced ease. You’ve already fucked up before and it wasn’t you who ended up paying the price. No, it had been your mother and your sister. Their blood will stain your hands for the rest of your life. 

You won’t make that same mistake again. 

Two twined heartbeats, breaths released and taken in unison, Eris drifts off as your fingers card through his hair. You drink him in, long lashes fluttering as he flits into sleep, faint freckles like stars scattered over the ridge of his nose, and his face, for once, open and devoid of that familiar mask. You map its planes with the tips of your fingers, cataloging each detail and etching them onto the back of your mind. 

Eris will be gone come morning. He always is. The only proof of his presence would be the ache between your thighs and his scent still lingering on your sheets. But for now, though, he is yours, as fleeting as this moment may be. 

This is enough, you tell yourself. 

AN: hello this is my first smut fic in a while & this is a bit different from my usual thing so i was a bit nervous about posting this one. Let me know what you guys think!

Dialogue and banter aren’t my strong suit but i tried my best ;u;

This started as pwp fic but now there’s plot and I’m invested. I’ve got a few ideas and I kinda want to do a series of one-shots for these two.

English isn’t my first language. If you see any mistakes please let me know thru DM! Thank you 💙

[giuliettagaltieri]

Obsessive Little Thing

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Lovesick!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: A jerk, a bitch, and the sidekicks

Warning: Angst, swearing, one sided pining, shallow/light writing, you and Rafe are equally stupid in your own ways.

Word Count: 1598

1 of 4

You can clearly remember the day you first started liking Rafe Cameron.

It was midsummer five years ago.  He was older than you and he only hung out with boys.  You were on the sidelines, afraid to talk to other girls like the popular Sarah Cameron and not interested in the conversation that the adults are having.

There was nothing interesting happening until Rafe Cameron decided to talk to you.  Well, it was just pleasantries being passed between you as you were standing by the cocktail table, sipping on your nonalcoholic juice as your mother insisted, and he was just needing a drink for himself.  One thing led to another and he was keeping you company the entire night, you did see how his stepmother was exchanging glances with him.  Whatever kindness Rafe Cameron showed you, it was not voluntary.

But you are grateful for it.

You started slotting yourself in his life, little by little, and he let you.

It was summer again and you had nothing else to do but bother him.

Dressed up in your polo shirt tucked in a light figure hugging shorts, your tennis shoes crunch over the pebbles of your driveway as you make your way to your car to head to the country club. 

In the mornings, you know that he likes to hit the gym with Topper and Kelce, you’d join them but they all stink of sweat and you’d rather pass.  Around this time, you know they will be at the Country Club, drinking or playing golf.

Smiling widely, you check your compact for anything out of place and smile even wider when you are content with how you look, sending a wink to your own reflection.

Rafe begrudgingly taught you how to drive a couple of years ago and you feel giddy with the memory.  You park carefully once you arrive at the Country Club and you spritz your favorite perfume behind your ears.  Rafe mentioned it smelled nice before and you have been using it ever since.  All the other perfume bottles that you are gifted on your birthdays and Christmas were left to collect dust in your closet.

You pinch your high socks to make sure that they fit snuggly, you can’t appear unkempt in front of Rafe and his friends.  With a practiced smile, you hop out of your car and saunter over to Rafe’s usual table, and just as you expected, he’s right there, having beer with Topper and Kelce.

“Hi!”  You greet them enthusiastically.  Topper and Kelce smile upon seeing you.  Rafe glances behind his shoulder to look at you before he turns back to his beer.

“Hi, Rafe.”  You say as you reach him, you place a hand on his arm to further get his attention and he squints up at you, making you giggle.  You sit down next to him, with a smile still on your face.  “I said…Hi, Rafe.”

He glances at Topper and Kelce, smiling briefly before it drops and he leans closer to you, his hard eyes staring deep into yours.  “Hi, Y/N.”

Your cheeks warm upon the soft gravel of his voice and you try to hide your proud smirk.  You like it when he actually acknowledges you, despite how rude he might act, you know he’s nice deep down.  Rafe has quite a temper and you have seen his outburst multiple times but he is always gentle with you.

Mindless conversation rolls over you until a soft chime in your bag has you pulling out your phone.  “Ugh, sorry.”  You smile sheepishly as you put your phone on silent mode.  “My mom has been trying to convince me to shift to business management courses.”

“Oh yeah, you took up fashion design, right?”  Kelce nods as he sip his beer and you beam at him.

“I did, Kelce.  Would you like to see my recent designs?”  You ask excitedly as you open your gallery and place your phone so Topper and Kelce can look at your sketch.

But Rafe chuckles humorlessly.  “Sweetheart, I don’t think Kelce came here to look at your drawings.”

“Oh.”  Your smile drops, your shoulders sagging just a bit.  “I’m sorry.”  You press home and Kelce and Topper both see how Rafe was your screensaver.  You don’t look embarrassed by it though.

“That’s fine.”  Kelce smiled at you.  “They’re uhm, they’re good.  Right, Top?”  He slaps Topper’s chest who quickly nods at you, even sending a frown to Rafe.

“They’re really nice, Y/N.  Perhaps you can make a suit for me for midsummer next year?”  He smiles and you gasp.

“Really, Top?”  You stand from your chair to grab his hand and he chuckles at your excitement.

“Yeah.”  Topper nods, grinning widely at your enthusiasm.

You sit back down and glance at Rafe triumphantly.  “See?  They’re not just drawings.”

Rafe rolls his eyes and grabs his beer.  “Sure.”

You drink your cherry cola, which was put under Rafe’s tab, swinging your feet as you sit closer to him, your smile not leaving your face. 

“Do you need sunglasses?”  You ask Rafe quietly as he squints under the sunlight.  “I have one in my car.”  He ignores you to listen to Topper talk.  “Or do you wanna switch seats with me, at least you won’t be facing the sun directly.”  You giggle lightly as you lean even closer to him.

Rafe shakes his head, eyeing you briefly.  “I’m good.”

You sigh but then you get a brilliant idea.  “At least wear sunscreen.”  You fish out a bottle of sunscreen from your pouch.  Rafe clicks his tongue when you spread the cream evenly on your palm and just as your hands were about to touch his face, his hands caught your wrist to stop you.

The sudden movement caught the server passing by off guard and the cocktail she was carrying came spilling onto Rafe’s polo.

“Oh no!”  You gasp, quickly wiping your hand on your thighs and dabbing a napkin on Rafe’s stained top.

The server apologizes profusely, she was even pressing her own napkin on Rafe’s clothes, but your eyes immediately lock on how her hands are pressed up on Rafe’s chest.

Before you can stop yourself, you are prying her hands off of Rafe, his shirt crumpled by your hands as you pull him close, your eyes glaring daggers at her.

“Don’t touch him!”  You scream angrily at her.  Her chest is heaving as her short hair is in disarray.  You glance at her nametag.  “Sofia.”  You say bitterly.  “Watch where you’re going next time!  If you can’t even serve drinks properly without pouring them all over your patrons, perhaps you shouldn’t be working here!”  You yell at her but before she can respond, Rafe’s arms wrap around your midriff and he lifts you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Put me down, now!”  You scream as you kick your feet but Rafe enclosed your thighs in a secure hold.

“Not until you calm down!”  He bellows, making you swallow the insult you were about to throw at Sofia.

You gulp.  You pissed him off.

You bite your lip as you let Rafe carry you to your car.  He puts you down roughly on your hood, you immediately squirm at the impact and at the heat of the metal under your thighs.

“Put me down!”  You squeal in pain but Rafe holds your thighs in each hand, you stop all movement when you see his tendons popping out, his eyes glaring at you.  “Rafe, I’m sor-”

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?”  He angrily spits through gritted teeth.  His grip on your thighs tightening with every word he spoke, making you flinch and shrink back, your eyes glossy with tears.  “You just embarrassed me!”

You blanch at his tone.  “Rafe, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to.”  You hiccup as you touch his jaw but he turns his head to the opposite direction, away from your touch.  His nose flared as his anger nearly boiled over.  His face was turning red and you see a vein bulge in his temple.

“She only spilled the drink on me because you were being insufferable.  That girl didn’t deserve to be yelled at.  You were a fucking bitch!”  He drilled a finger on your chest, making tears stream down your cheeks.  “God!  I can’t stand you.”  He shakes his head as he glares at you before storming off.

You called his name but he was already marching back inside the Country Club.  You watch him march away, his shoulders squared as he runs a hand down his mouth.  Your entire body was shaking as you looked at him desperately. 

Kelce comes and helps you down the hood.  You were clinging to his arms as you looked in the direction where Rafe disappeared.  “I said I was sorry.”  You look at Kelce with tears pouring out of your desperate eyes.  “Kelce, I said I was sorry.”

Topper shakes his head as he snatches a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to you.  Your stuff already in his other hand

“Come on, Y/N.”  Topper calls.  “I’ll drive you home.”

Reluctantly, you step away from Kelce.  You glance at the Country Club one last time to see if Rafe came back and you wish you hadn’t, there he was with that server, Sofia.  Rafe was smiling down at her, she had a hand on her chest as she too smiled at him.  They are clearly talking about you.

Topper gently puts an arm on your shoulders to get you to tear your eyes away from them.

Lovesick Little Thing

[thewitchblue]

"Yes, my mom is a witch. Yes, my birth parents sold me to her. No, I do not hate her. She treats me like I'm her own son. Does that answer all your questions?"

Tim asked with crossed arms. Batman and his family recently discovered you, his witch mum, and now refuse to let it go. They've been badgering him all day.

"How does that work? How did Bruce adopt you if you already have a family?"

Dick was so confused. How did Tim hide you for so long? How did he sneak out when he lives with a family of detectives? Tim merely sighed and explained,

"My mom told me it's okay. She said I'm magically hers, so a sheet of paper means nothing. She knew my path would always lead me here, so she didn't stop me. She trusts that I will make good decisions for myself."

You had kissed his forehead that day and gave him a hug before telling him he's always your baby and you want him to follow the path he forges for himself.

"Can we meet her?"

Dick asked. He wanted to know more about Tim's secret mother figure. Why did Tim keep you from them?

Tim paused. He didn't know how good of an idea that would be. He loved you dearly, but you are introverted like him. He wouldn't want to meet the family, especially with how huge it got over the years, so why would you want to meet them? Tim conceded,

"I'll ask her, but she would have to come here. Her home is impossible to break into with all the wards and all the magic she poured into our home -- that's irrelevant. I'll ask if she wants to come over. Don't be surprised if she popped in during dinner."

With all that said, Tim was out the door, leaving the family with millions of questions. They knew they wouldn't be able to trail Tim without him knowing. You seemed impossible to reach anyway.

You seemed to ponder Tim's request for what feels like forever. You love your solitude, but you decided that you love Tim more. You asked him seriously,

"Do you want me to go or are they forcing you to ask?"

Tim considered his feelings for a moment. Does he want to keep you selfishly to himself, or does he want to share? He's not sure. He's positive you would hit it off with Bruce, and that might lead to you joining the family and eventually tying him to them permanently. He admits,

"I'm not sure. You'd love them, but I don't trust that you'll be treated with the respect you deserve."

Your gaze softened and you lightly kissed his cheek. You told him,

"Little dove, you do not have to force me on the family if you don't want to. I love you and you are the only one to make this decision."

He didn't like that you turned the decision onto him, but he should have expected as much. You hated making decisions. He decided after a couple of minutes,

"I... I want you to meet them."

You took his hand in yours and teleported both of you into the manor. Tim hugged you tightly the entire time it took to teleport. He loved you, but teleporting sucks to experience. It feels like reality itself warped like one of the circus mirrors and suddenly poof.

You're standing in the middle of dinner, like he told them you would do. Tim's hand was still in yours as you looked through the room. Your eyes finally landed on Alfred, and you walked over to him.

"Well, it's lovely to meet you. You must be Bruce."

You took Alfred's hand in yours and shook it with a kind smile. The kids all snickered at the offended Bruce. It's partially true that Alfred is a father figure, but ouch.

"Miss, master Bruce is at the head of the table."

You didn't seem embarrassed at all as you walked to Bruce with Tim trailing behind you.

"I'm sorry about my abrupt entrance. It's good to meet the part-time father to my little dove."

Bruce watched you carefully. You seem like a nice person. No wonder Tim turned out so kind.

You sat down with Tim on one side and Dick on the other side. You took a deep breath before saying,

"Ask your questions."

Tim gave you a shocked look. You evaded questions like the plague. Why is it so different now?

Well, it's different because your Timmy cares about them, and they would obviously have a lot more personal questions than questions from a stranger.

"How did you meet Tim?"

Dick asked at your side. You smiled and looked at Tim with soft eyes. You delved into the story,

"He must have been two or three when his parents found me in the forest outside my house. Everybody knows about the witch in the woods who grants wishes for a price."

You sighed. You hate your reputation, but there's nothing you can do about it. You continued,

"A couple appeared with a toddler. I originally thought they would ask for an illness to go away in their child, but instead they offered the toddler holding his mother's hand in exchange for riches."

You frowned. Tim knew you always get upset by the story and wrapped an arm around you protectively.

"I thought to myself. 'Why would anyone offer me their child?' But, I ultimately decided he would be better off with me, so I accepted. I took tiny Tim in my arms, and he melted into my arms. It seemed like he had never been hugged before me, and it broke my heart. The magical contract was signed, and the couple walked off child-free and rich."

All eyes turned to Tim. He told them a different story of his childhood, but what did they expect? For him to disclose, his parents abandoned him to a witch and subsequently was raised by said witch? Sure, there are crazier backstories, but that would look terrible from any angle. It would look like a kidnapping when it was really more like saving. You saved Tim from the pain of growing up in a loveless home. You save him from the pain of cold isolation. You raised him, praised him, and adored him. He was your child, no matter the DNA.

You didn't even want kids until Tim was in your arms. You became the mother all children deserve to have regardless of your lack of desire for children.

The story seemed to satisfy most of their major questions. Jason eventually asked,

"Why did you let him join us?"

You smiled and ruffled Tim's hair affectionately, who grumbled in a very disgruntled tone.

"This one loved Batman, and he thought he needed a Robin. I told him to follow his own path. He'll always be my son, both magically and in our hearts."

Bruce was beginning to like you. However, they were all a bit salty about the fact that none of them have a mother. Dick grinned and elbowed Bruce.

"That just means you have to give us a mother to make it even. Tim can't be the only one with a mom."

You laughed, but Tim looked like he was contemplating bringing you into a relationship with Bruce. Bruce asked,

"Would the magic transfer if you got married?"

You shook your head. You decided to be kind and elaborated,

"Tim is strictly mine for as long as I live according to the signed contract I made with his original parents."

Bruce didn't like that Tim isn't his son and never will be. You gave a contemplating hum. Technically, there is a way, but it would never happen. You weren't very interested in the second option. Still, you told him,

"Unless we married magically. Then we are tied together, and that means Tim would be tied to my husband indirectly. He would still have no real authority, but he'd have a small claim over him."

That caught Bruce's attention. He has a chance to keep Tim more permanently. He asked,

"What does it mean to marry magically? What's the difference?"

You quirked an eyebrow at him. Why was he so curious? You didn't have plans to marry. Then again, you didn't plan to have a child either. Sure, you've helped a few people with their fertility issues, but it was a joke to ask for their firstborn.

"We sign a contract that would tie our souls together. We could sign a legal document as well, but the magical contract must be signed for the claim to settle."

Tim whispered in your ear soft enough for only you to hear,

"Mom, will you marry Bruce? I want to be his son."

You straightened in your chair. You were startled by the request and asked back equally quietly,

"Are you sure? This is your soul, Tim, not just some flimsy legal document."

Tim nodded. He already figured he'd be part of the family, but he wanted to make it more permanent.

"I'm sure, mom."

You sighed softly in your spot. You were so weak for your Tim. You'd give anything to make him happy. You frowned before conceding,

"If you can convince him."

Tim kissed your forehead gratefully and began negotiating with Bruce and feeling out the situation. Dick took your hand in his and said to you light-heartedly,

"I'm gaining a mom after all."

And that is how the Batfamily gained Batmom. What a mess.

[miruac]

dating osamu miya - headcanons

masterlist

navigation

warnings: not proofread, extremely self indulgent, minor atsumu cameo, word vomit. disgusting word vomit.

a/n: guys why are we making fun of osamu for liking food...i think its cute...that means hes a chub hub and his love language is probably acts of service also i go feral for slight chub <3

in highschool he acts like he didnt care

the typical stoic guy nonchalant guy

but when it came to you? EHEHEHE HE HAD A LITTLE BLUSH ON HIS FACE

the first time you guys saw each other was after an assembly

you were cleaning up, and coincidentally it was the end of the day

tsumu and osamu were racing to see who enters the gym first and ended up fighting...

tsumu THREW osamu and he landed at your feet...you literally had to nudge him w/ur foot to see if he was still alive

he gave you the nastiest side eye bc he thought you were atsumu 😭

but when he realized you weren't he got up so fast and apologized so quickly

ok moving on i rambled 2 much

during the talking stage he's still a little quiet

like he just listens but he remembers everything

you said you liked how his bento box looked?

he got it for you

you said you use only a certain type of pencil/pen because you like how smooth it is?

he got it for you

everyone writes osamu as if he hogs his lunch but its his lunch!!! he has a right to!!! its his food!!!

he always packs a little extra just for you to have </3

atsumus starts wondering why the food in the house disappears so fast but when he saw you and osamu he immediately understood

you frequented the convenience store down the street, whenever it was during your lunch break of after practice

if osamu had to rank onigiri, it would be his moms and then the convenience store

and that says smth knowing how picky his tastes are...

during games you'd be on the edge of your seat

ok this may be ooc but i literally see him mouthing 'this is for you' before he serves and he winks in your direction

I THINK THATS FUNNY YOU GUYS

surprisingly he didnt miss

atsumu teased the HELL out of him

would always walk you home even if it was out of his way

literally wouldn't leave until he saw you go inside HES SO PROTECTIVE

speaking of protective it deffo helps he's actually six feet not like those posers

will tower over you and any guy who even dares approach you like oh hes behind you? everybody RUNS

his mom LOVES YOU

shes not like those stereotypical boy mothers like she does care for the twins but isnt OVERBEARING

hc that he hugs his mother whenever he comes home after a long day </333 nothing is more comforting than a motherly hug

his mom gives you that same hug WAHHH SHES SO WARM AND CUTE I LOVE MAMA MIYA(hey sounds like mamma mia)

osamu invited you over bc you two had to study and she got so GIDDY LIKE HER SON ISNT BITCHLESS

she cooked up a FEAST that night

and know you know where osamu got his cooking skills from

the entire time atsumu was silent but he was lowk sulking that he got kicked out of his room and no one paid attention to him that night.....

is clingy

he is CLINGY

his love languages are quality time, acts of service, and physical touch

if hes tired or down in the dumps he'll literally slump over on you

he NEEDS to have a hand on you whenever you're together

even if its like as minimal as you guys linking legs when youre sitting on the couch together that satisfies him enough

my shayla....my shayla </3

-----------------------------------------------------------

...guys. GUYS. HI!!! im back!!! sorry its been so long, i've actually been so busy with exams and post secondary stuff 😭😭 just recently started rewatching haikyuu during winter break and im back on my osamu brainrot BUT EHEHHEHE HERE WE GO!!!! I HOPE U GUYS LIKE THIS ONE

[aothotties]

Telling Toji you want a baby

Hello beautiful people! I wanted to post this yesterday, but I was busy celebrating mothers day myself! Happy belated mothers day to all the sexy moms out there!

Warnings: mentions or pregnancy, fluff, sought angst, mentions of mama fushiguro, creampie, overstimulation,

Word count: 1690

~~~

You and Toji are on your way back from visiting your sister and her family. She just recently had her third baby and you decided to stay and help her around the house.

During your visit, you couldn’t help but develop a bit of baby fever being around her children. Those cute chubby cheeks and the random babbling was enough to convince you to make one yourself.

You and Toji have talked about starting a family of your own in the past but decided you wanted to wait until his son, Megumi, was older.

You’re pulled out of your deep thoughts when you hear car doors closing outside, indicating that your husband and son are home. You greet them at the door and Megumi runs into your arms.

“How was school munchkin?” You ask, picking the small boy up and resting him on your hip.

“It was good, I missed you today.” He rests his head on your shoulder and you rub his back soothingly.

Your baby fever is getting stronger by the damn second and your husband standing in the kitchen watching you two isn’t helping one bit.

“I miss you too gumi, you want a snack?” He shakes his head and closes his eyes instead.

“He had a long day of playing so I’m sure he’s tired.” Your husband says, walking around the island in the kitchen to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“I can tell, I’ll go and lay him down.” You hold Megumi close as you make your way to his room.

You smile at the sound of his light snore and loosened grip on your shirt. You lay him down slowly and plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Love you, mom.” He mumbles sleepily and your eyes widen.

Megumi has never called you mom before, he’s only ever called you by your first name. You and Toji agreed that you would let Megumi decide what you were to him, and it’s clear he has.

You press a kiss to his forehead and close your eyes as you feel tears build up.

“I love you too.” You whisper back and step out of his room.

You quickly wipe your tears and clear your throat as you walk into your and your husband's shared bedroom.

To your surprise Toji is already in there, his headset is thrown over his ears and he’s lounging back in his chair.

“Hey cutie pie, why the long face? Did another animal die in a book or something?” He teases, and you roll your eyes.

You force yourself into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. He looks at you in pure confusion and sets his controller and headset aside.

“Megumi called me mom.” You mumble against his shoulder silently.

Toji freezes in his chair and isn’t exactly quite sure how to react. You both have talked about his wife in the past, but you try not to since you know it’s a bit of a tough subject.

“I’m sorry this is out of nowhere, I just felt like you should know.” He wraps his arms around you tightly and you relax in his embrace.

“Don’t apologize, he’s right you are his mom. You’ve been here since he was one. You’re all he knows.” He rubs your back and rests his forehead against yours.

“I wanted to talk to you about that. So you know how my sister and her husband just had a baby?” You ask, you nervously play with the collar of his shirt.

“Yeah I’m aware, your mother wouldn’t stop asking when we were gonna have our own, why?” He raises an eyebrow and you simply smile at him.

“Oh my god are you pregnant!?” He sits up quickly and you almost fall from his lap.

“Jesus Christ Toji, no I’m not, but I’m hoping I soon will be.” You quickly throw in the last part and await his response.

“You’re serious right now? You want a baby?” He asks looking into your eyes for any signs of doubt.

You nod confidently and straddle his legs while he sits back. You rub your hands up and down his arms and chest slowly.

“Don’t you wanna make a baby with me, Toji?” You seductively ask, lips kissing up his neck gently.

He smirks at your antics and grabs a handful of your ass in his large hands.

“If you’re serious about this then so am I, I’m never gonna say no to coming inside your sweet pussy”

That’s the last thing you remember before you end up bent over the mattress with your face stuffed in the sheets.

You don’t wanna wake up poor Megumi down the hall, but it’s getting harder not to scream with the pounding your poor cunt is receiving.

“Be quiet mama, I see I’ve got to teach you some things. Can’t be waking up the new baby with your screamin’.” He teases, and his rough hand rubs up your back.

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you so your back is flush against his chest. The new angle has your eyes rolling back and your head resting weakly on his shoulder.

“T-Toji, f-feels good!” You whine as his thick bulbous tip abuses your sweet spot.

“Of course it does baby, you can’t stop coming and crying on my cock.” He smirks and holds onto your hips with both hands as he picks up his thrusting.

Your walls tighten around his thick shaft and your orgasm courses through your entire body. Toji wraps an arm around your waist as you convulse on top of him, he uses his other hand to rub quick circles on your swollen nub.

“Fuck! Fuck! Daddy, t-too much” You gasp as another orgasm builds up quickly, your lower belly warming up slightly.

“You can take it, Daddy’s so close princess. I want you to take all of me, can you do that baby?” He grunts out in pleasure, and the feeling of your sopping pussy begins to catch up to him.

His hips start to lose their rhythm but never their force, you nod your head in response to his question.

The hand gripping your waist slaps over your mouth and you scream into it as another climax approaches.

This one wetting the man and bed below you, tears begin to stream down your face and your body goes limp.

Toji replaces his hand with his lips and thrust up into you and few more times before pumping his warm cum into you.

You whimper against his lip with each twitch of his veiny cock, his large fingers finally give your clit a break.

He pulls away from the kiss and rubs his hand over your belly. You open your eyes and look up at him, the need for sleep is very clear on your face.

“You’re going to make an amazing mother.” He plants one last kiss on your forehead before he maneuvers you both to lay on your side.

You smile at the compliment and attempt to sit up so you can go and take a shower.

“Baby, we’re done now. I need to clean up and take a shower.” You look back at him and he raises an eyebrow in confusion.

“Oh no baby, we’re not finished. I was just giving you a break. We need to make sure you get pregnant, don’t we?”

~~~

“Happy Mother’s Day mama!” You hear from above you.

You open your tired eyes and are met with your son and husband standing over you with gifts and breakfast.

“Oh my goodness, thank you guys!” You sit up as quickly as your large belly will allow and rub the sleep from your eyes.

You pull Megumi into your lap with the help of Toji and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. Toji sets the food next to you as he sits down and you kiss him as well.

“Daddy told me to tell you that he cooked.” Your son gives you a bright smile as he tells you the surprise and you hold in a laugh.

You can hear the older man suck on his teeth and can only assume an eye roll came after it.

“Well, I can’t wait to try the food Daddy cooked. I’m sure it’s delicious.” You reassure Toji and he gives you a small smile.

You hum in satisfaction at the taste of the food and also end up feeding your two boys in the process.

“When will my brother get here?” Megumi asks, well you assume that’s what he asked because his mouth is full of eggs.

“Well, baby the doctors said any day now, it’s up to him.” You wipe his face with a napkin and he giggles at the feeling.

“You can come out now, It’s okay!” Megumi lays on the bed and pokes at your stomach as he talks to it.

“Alright boy that’s enough, stop poking your brother.” Toji feeds him another piece of bacon and the little boy jumps off the bed quickly.

You laugh and shake your head while Toji just sighs.

“I don’t know where he gets that from.” He mumbles, stuffing eggs in his mouth now.

“Yeah, I have no clue either.” You say as you stare at the adult version of your son.

“How are you feeling? He doesn’t seem to have much space in there.” He looks down at your belly and tries to massage away any soreness.

“I’m doing alright, he’s ready to come out now. I haven’t had any more contractions within the last hour so I think I’m good.” You continue to eat more food and Toji just stares at you.

“Have you been having contractions and didn’t tell me?” He gently turns your face toward him and you nod your head.

“I woke up and you guys were gone so I laid back down, it’s not like my water broke or anything.” You shrug your shoulders only to realize that you may have spoken too soon as your bed dampens under you.

Toji’s eyes widen in pure shock and you smile nervously at him in return.

“Oops?”

Ari