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[lovieku]

OBVIOUS ⋆ 정국

you lose your virginity to jeongguk, the only boy you’d ever trust with such weight. and what you both feel for each other couldn’t be more obvious.

୨ৎ from the grande series

pairings: bookstore employee!jk x virgin!fem reader

genre: smut, strangers to friends to lovers

ratings: +18 / mdi

warnings: based on this ask, lower case intended, porn with some plot, mutual pining, age gap (21 n 25), first time, dry humping, tit play (small boobs lover jk!!!), oral (f receiving), fingering, hand job, size kink, protected sex, missionary, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, sooo much praise, and pet names, jeongguk is so so loving and caring, sm fluff hehe, bit of angst maybe? but lovey dovey confession <33

word count: 12.9k

a/n: aaaa this is so silly and rushed but theyre so cute and i had to do something about it. ps: this is my first time writing smut, hope it’s not embarassing Help ..any feedback is appreciated 👩🏻‍💻

────୨ৎ────

you met jeon jeongguk at your favorite bookstore. the one tucked away in the quieter part of town, hidden in the shadow, squeezed between a small café and a vintage shop with an unassuming facade. it’s not the kind of place that draws crowds, most people passed it without a second glance, without paying it the attention it deserved.

but you always did, too attentive for your own liking, too curious for your own sake. you had always been the type to notice the quiet places where stories seem to breathe.

there was nothing not to love about the store. it felt like a refuge in tones of deep brown wood and soft amber light. it wasn’t flashy, but that’s why you loved it. stepping inside always brought a sense of calm, brought you closer to feel the whisper of worn leather bindings, the smell of old pages. it was being understood, accepted, seen.

meeting jeongguk wasn’t fate. it wasn’t some serendipitous moment ripped from a movie script. you didn’t bump into him while too immersed in your favorite novel. you didn’t reach simultaneously for the same book and argued over it, only to end up in the café next door.

jeon jeongguk was simply working there. he was an employee at the bookshop, stocking shelves, checking inventory. he just so happened to be charming, and the only one who came up to you after you’d been standing in front of a high shelf for what felt like an eternity.

“looking for anything in particular?”

when you turned to follow the source of the honey voice, not too low but still smooth, you had to fight hard to keep the gasp that was threatening to escape locked in your throat. he was tall. way taller than you. his dark hair fell in soft curls, brushing the nape of his neck, framing his face with carefully crafted, but effortlessly beautiful curtains. and when you managed to escape his wide eyes, seemingly storing all the warmth the shop could offer, you found it even harder to contain the surprise as you spotted a trail of intricate ink designs starting from his hand and running up his muscled arm, only to disappear beneath the short sleeve of his black polo.

he was still staring, expectantly. and you just kept standing there, mute. observing like a maniac. you stumbled over your words, trying to steady your voice, “oh— um. i was looking for the japanese author, kawamura?”

the way his eyes lit up at your request was unmistakable. and after that, the same spark would flicker in his gaze every time you stepped foot in the shop.

you later found out that he was new, which explained why you hadn’t noticed him before, all the times you’d gone and searched for books. which weren’t a lot, but enough for the other staff to know your face through the years. and now, certainly enough for jeongguk to become acquainted with your presence.

you started finding excuses to go more often, week after week, convincing yourself that you needed new books to accompany your tea as the colder months approached. truth be told, it wasn’t just the books pulling you in. your friends kept teasing you about the real reason why you’d always hurry there after your lectures ended, and deep down you knew you just had to accept it. you were developing a silly, little crush.

jeongguk didn’t seem to mind the growing frequency of your visits. if you had to guess, you’d say he was just as eager to see you. or maybe he was just exceptionally good at his job. if that were the case, you hoped he was crowned employee of the month every single time.

there was always a line he never crossed. his professionalism remained intact. he greeted you like any other customer, offering his help when you needed it. and you always seemed to need it, didn’t you? yet, there was something in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, the way his lips curved in that subtle, almost hidden way when you left with a new book in hand. you’d walk out of the store, clutching your latest literary find, grinning like a fool, and jeongguk would watch, his own smile lingering long after you were gone.

deep down, you knew this couldn’t last forever. you were just a student, miserably scraping by in the tiniest flat imaginable, your waitressing part-time job barely paying enough to make it through the month. but you’d feel bad, wasting hours of jeongguk’s shift, monopolizing his time with your indecision over paperbacks, keeping him off his tasks, just for it to be a waste. you needed to show him your gratitude, in a way. contribute to the income of the bookshop. so, you kept buying books. you weren’t sure you even had more space to fit them in your own shelf.

yet no matter how much you tried to convince yourself to stay away, you couldn’t help it. books were your escape, your joy, and the fact that they were sold to you by jeongguk was just an added bonus. the problem wasn’t him— it was your wallet. your poor, overworked wallet that kept reminding you of the price of each novel and how your little crush was becoming financially unsustainable.

it was one of those afternoons after your morning lectures, where the crisp autumn air made you even more eager to slip into the bookstore, feeling that familiar rush of warmth as jeongguk greeted you with his usual smile. this time, he surprised you with a book he had found just for you, claiming “you’d enjoy it. feels light and genuine, just like you.”

when it came time to pay, cheeks still flushed after the sickly, sweet grin he flashed your way, you sighed as you rummaged through your bag for your card.

he scanned it, only to glance up at you with a hesitant expression, “huh… it declined.”

“what?” you laughed, though it was shaky, disbelief lacing your words, “no, that can’t be right. try again.”

he did, but the outcome remained unchanged. he met your eyes with a worried frown, and you felt your face flame in embarrassment, not the one that made your insides swarm with butterflies minutes before this.

you groaned, pressing your palm to your forehead in mortification, “fuck, this is so humiliating.”

jeongguk chuckled softly, his voice soothing, “hey, it’s really not. it’s okay. i’ll pay for it.”

your jaw dropped, and you looked at him like he had lost his mind, “no, what? are you crazy? don’t— don’t do that. you don’t need to. i’ll just come back another day.”

what followed was a ridiculous, playful back-and-forth. you refused, he insisted, and soon enough, the two of you were locked in a silly tug-of-war over the book itself, laughing despite the situation. he finally threw his hands up in surrender, his smile impossibly wide, the kind of grin that made your heart skip a beat.

“alright, alright,” he relented, shaking his head, “but i’m still not happy about this. if i can’t pay for your book, at least let me buy you a coffee. i’m clocking off in 15. will you wait for me?”

you couldn’t contain your eyes from widening, your smile to dumbly paint your features as you eagerly nodded. you didn’t trust yourself to speak, afraid that if you did, some ridiculous teenage squeal would escape. he was grinning just as hard, though.

and so, you began seeing jeongguk outside the confined space of the bookstore, in a world beyond the shelves and spines of novels. his attire was always simple, dark tones that exuded comfort and warmth. his sweaters seemed soft enough to curl into, and his presence felt just as inviting.

but you pushed those thoughts away, trying to remind yourself that he was becoming a friend. one of your closest, even. you tried. you did! but you just couldn’t help the way your mind wandered, imagining what it would be like to lean just a little closer, to feel the warmth of his embrace. god, get a grip.

still, it was impossible to ignore the flutter in your chest each time his eyes lingered a little longer than necessary. outside the bookstore, jeongguk was different. not in a bad way. he was just more relaxed, more himself. his touch came naturally, a hand at the small of your back guiding you through a crowded street, his arm slung casually over your shoulders like it belonged there. he was playful in a way that hinted at something deeper, his jokes sometimes drifting into uncharted territory, leaving your stomach in knots, your thoughts spiraling down paths you hadn’t dared explore.

and then there was the way he looked after you. he was older, just by a few years, 25 to your 21, but it felt like a gulf of experience separated the two of you. he’d seen more, lived more. experienced more. knew more. about all that stuff you’d been scared to explore, the stuff that happened in the intimacy of one’s bedroom. you knew he had his fair share of girlfriends, he told you about it. just how you’d told him you never got close to a relationship. you just flirted around with a boy in high school, messily making out in the corners where no one could see you. but it never went over that.

jeongguk’s protectiveness over you came naturally. you didn’t mind. it was reassuring, the way his hand tightened around your wrist in a crowded space or how his gaze followed you across a room, always making sure you were safe.

you found yourself spending more and more time together. walking through the city, staying up late at cafés, or just wandering aimlessly in his car, talking about everything. you told him about your classes, the stress of exams, your dreams of becoming a teacher, and the uncertainties that weighed you down. he listened, really listened, in a way that made you feel seen, like every word you said mattered.

jeongguk shared his own story too. he’d dropped out of college a year ago, deciding that the path everyone else had planned for him wasn’t for him at all. now, he was drifting, trying to figure out where he belonged. he took inspiration in the way your eyes sparkled at the prospect of your future. little did he know, your eyes just reflected the galaxies in his that you loved getting lost into.

it terrified you. because with each passing day, your feelings for him grew stronger, more undeniable. it wasn’t just a crush anymore. it was something that had its own weight, pulling you closer to him. the lines were blurring, but you let them.

one night, after a long week of classes and stress, you went out with a few friends. jeongguk hadn’t been able to join, caught up with work, but when your tipsy self had dialed his number later that night, he picked up right away. your voice was soft, your words slurred. they echoed through the bar’s bathroom, followed by your uncontainable giggles as jeongguk playfully scolded you on the other line. the same softness was painting his face, and he only hung up when he started his car, showing up within minutes.

by the time he arrived, you were well past tipsy and leaning dangerously toward drunk. you didn’t notice him sheepishly greeting your group of friends, their eyes lighting up with interest at the image of the renowned jeon jeongguk, until his low voice called your name, slipping his arm around your waist and helping you up from the bar stool, “come on, let’s get you home. say bye-bye.”

you glared at him, face slightly reddening at his tease. he just loved treating you like a little kid. loved poking fun at you. still, you leaned into him, the scent of his body wash wrapping around you like a comforting blanket, banter ready on your tongue, “i’m fine, grandpa,” you slurred amusedly, but your legs wobbled as you tried to walk.

he chuckled under his breath, guiding you out of the bar, “yeah, sure you are. you’re barely standing.”

the night air was cold against your skin, but jeongguk was warm, his body solid and steady as you clung to him.

you didn’t mean to say it, didn’t mean to let the words slip, but in your hazy, alcohol-fueled state, you genuinely wondered, “why are you so good to me?”

he paused for a moment, glancing down at you with a small smile, “because you deserve it.”

the car ride was silent, in a comfortable way. you got lost in the way the city flashed past you, and jeongguk stole sneaky glances at you from the corner of his eye, his hand gripping the steering wheel a little tighter each time he let his eyes linger.

when he reached your place, he helped you inside, gently guiding you to the couch. you were too dazed to fight him when he insisted on getting you some water and a blanket. he moved around your cramped flat with ease, having memorized where every single thing belonged after his countless stays at your place, watching movie after movie or simply keeping you company while you revised.

he sat beside you for a while as you rambled on about your night, how the music was slightly disappointing even with the drinks being overpriced.

jeongguk listened attentively, even with your words stumbling out in messy fragments, jumping from one topic to another. his eyes traced the way your hands moved in wild gestures, the way your lips fumbled for the right words, the glaze in your eyes reflecting the soft glow of the room. he didn’t realize it at first, but his body instinctively followed your movements, leaning closer with every excited wave of your arms, his knees brushing against yours, his head nodding in time with your words.

only when you stopped talking, turning to face him and catching his gaze in the dim light, he was made aware of the little distance between you. it wasn’t unusual for the two of you to be this close. always sneakily seeking for one another in booth seats of the pubs you’d visit every so often, his hand lingering on your knee for longer than needed when calling for your attention, your arms locking together when walking through the city.

but this moment was different. it was heavy with something unspoken. and so tender, fragile.

your cheek rested on the back of the couch, your body slouched, your eyes half-lidded. he sat straight, his torso turned towards you, his head bending down to study your face better.

you didn’t think when you blurted his name out, your gaze falling on his lips, “jeongguk.”

he hummed softly.

“i want you to kiss me.”

the words tumbled out before you could stop them, but you didn’t take them back. you couldn’t.

jeongguk didn’t seem startled by your unfiltered words. he didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back. he only tilted his head slightly, the corner of his lip inching up sweetly, “you want me to kiss you?”

you hummed, with the same softness, only tinted with uncertainty. fear of rejection. you were suddenly aware of what you asked him now that he repeated it back to you. and you realized how much you meant it, just now.

but his tone wasn’t condemning. it was seeking for confirmation that he heard right, that it wasn’t just your drunk thoughts talking. still, he didn’t lean closer, nor let his eyes fall to the lower part of your face.

he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, “i’ll kiss you. just not now.”

”what? why not?”

your eyebrows were cutely furrowed, the blush the alcohol painted you with only making the pout on your lips even more irresistible.

jeongguk hissed amusedly, ”because you’re drunk. and when i’ll kiss you, i want you to be sure about it. want you to remember it.”

”but i am sure about it. i want you.”

once again, your blunt confession didn’t seem to faze him. he smiled, kept his tone low, ”i know. i want you too.”

your breath hitched at the unexpected sincerity of his words, your eyes roaming all over his face. you subtly shifted closer, your lips parted slightly with desire. the flame that lit up your body burned all the alcohol from your system, and suddenly you were more awake than ever. you were alert. your heart pounding, your core pulsing. he looked so inviting, so pretty in that light.

he wet his lips, darting his tongue out to play with his piercing. you could feel your head spin. you didn’t just want him. you needed him. and it wasn’t the alcohol. you were sure of it.

you could only dumbly lean closer and hope for the best, but he chuckled softly, his large hand framing the side of your face and forcing you to stop your path towards him, look at him, swim in the intensity of his gaze.

his tone was gentle, delicate, understanding, “if you don’t change your mind, we’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay? when you’re sober. hm?”

his eyes searched yours, waiting patiently for your response. you only managed a small nod, your eyes glossy with frustration and a bit of shame. you bit your lip, muttering a small okay and letting him fix your hair with the fondest look in his orbs.

he left your flat only after tucking you in your bed, because you begged him to, and after much more pleading, you even convinced him to stay beside you until you fell asleep. you didn’t feel him slip out of your hold on his hand, the weight of his body leaving your bed, and with it, the warmth of his presence going as well.

but the following day, after downing the glass of water you assumed he left by your nightstand, you bore through your headache and searched for his contact in your phone first thing as you woke up. you were instantly hit with flashes of the night before, and you remembered exactly what you told him, what he promised. that if you still wanted it, you would talk about it. and you just needed to hear his voice, as soon as possible.

you’re not sure what there was to talk about. you asked him for a kiss. his lips on yours. it’s not like there would be much space for talking.

with your phone to your ear, the ringback tone was the only sound filling the space between your thoughts. you felt a twinge of anxiety in your stomach. you should have probably called later, let yourself adjust to consciousness. maybe rationalize yesterday’s events and find a better way to move around them. give yourself more time to think it over. the wait stretched on, and it only gave your doubts more space to spiral, turn into little monsters whispering evil things in your ear.

he probably wanted to talk to you about it because he thought it was a stupid idea. he didn’t really want it, was just lying to get you to shut up. he thought you were foolish, childish, not his type at all. or maybe, he was seeing someone and didn’t know how to tell you. wow, that would be humbling. you wanted him so bad and he was just—

“hello?”

his voice sounded muffled through the line. you clumsily adjusted your device to your ear, sitting up, still in your bed, last night’s makeup smudged under your eyes, “jeongguk?”

”that would be me, ma’am.”

“hi,” your voice was low, thick with sleep and the remnants of your hangover, and it sounded weaker than you’d intended to reveal.

”hey. feeling better, miss?”

his playful tone was laced with affection, and it instantly put a smile on your face. you didn’t realize it, but your mind was clearing, your body unconsciously easing back into the covers, “i am.”

jeongguk hummed, and you heard the faint sound of movement on his end. he was probably getting ready for the bookstore, but still found time to pick up your call. it made you alert, awkwardly aware of what both of you were probably expecting out of this conversation.

you cleared your throat, smoothing some of the morning grogginess and sounding lighter, softer, “come over after your shift? i miss the office. and your ramyeon.”

when he chuckled in your ear and teased you for that one time you said his cooking was average, you felt your shoulders relax. even more when he agreed and shot you a quick see you later, followed by the exaggerated sound of smacking lips.

it was his signature goodbye, always ending your calls with that. it would usually make you roll your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. but this time, it made you blush like a pubescent teenager. get. a. grip.

jeongguk noticed the slight shift in your demeanor right away. he could taste the tension, smell it in the air, feel it in the way you’d become stiff, even when his fingers barely grazed your skin. it was a stark contrast to how things had been between you two.

you still moaned around the first bite of his ramyeon, still giggled with your mouth full as he mockingly mimicked your voice, playfully downgrading his cooking skills from months ago. but you blushed a little harder at the smirk that followed his usual tease. subtly ran away from his hand seeking your contact.

with time, both of you had grown comfortable with the casual touches, playful proximity— tickling at each other’s sides, poking jokingly, or simply brushing hands when no one was looking. it had become a natural part of your dynamic.

but after your earlier slurred confessions, he could tell that it was affecting you more deeply now, your body reacting differently to his touch. the way you startled at his closeness, the small breath catching in your throat. it all made his head spin, his fist tighten in restraint. you weren’t the only one affected.

on your couch, you found it hard to relax in his familiar embrace, an arm around your shoulders, your head resting on his chest. the steady rhythm of his breathing usually soothed you, but tonight, your heart was fighting its way up, dangerously close to spilling all over his neat clothes. you exhaled shakily, the office playing quietly on the tv doing a weak job at distracting you.

and jeongguk couldn’t take it anymore. lust wasn’t the only feeling simmering under the surface. he was scared. that he may have read it all wrong, that you only blurted it out because you were drunk and not in control of your thoughts. he was terrified of stepping the wrong way, doing something that would determinately scare you away, end whatever you two had for good. and he didn’t want to lose you. wanted to keep you. and that went over the need to taste your lips.

through the corner of your eye, you could feel him stare down at you intently. his other hand reached to move your hair out of the way, and you let him. you turned to meet his gaze, and relaxed slightly at the fond look on his features.

“what’s going on in that pretty, little head of yours? will you tell me?”

you blinked. gulped down loudly. the reassuring smile on his face grew bigger. you shifted slightly in his hold, moving your body to face him, and the arm that was around you naturally fell down your waist.

you tried to word it differently, tried to suppress it just a bit longer, find another way around it, but his blown out pupils lowered all your inhibitions, “do you— do you still want to kiss me?”

“i do. very badly.”

his response was immediate, and it came through a whisper. it caressed your face sweetly, and it made you aware of the natural gravity that pulled you even closer, to the point of your noses almost touching.

you were unable to move, to initiate anything, to be truthful to your desires. your orbs jumped on every corner of his face, widening. he let his palm close around your hip, then he spoke low, “will you let me do that?”

jeon jeongguk kissed you slowly. his lips lingered on yours, tasting, moving with intent. his hands framed your face, traveling down your neck and holding you gently by the nape.

it was sweet, and delicate. he took his time becoming acquainted with your pace, letting you control the movement of his doings. when he darted his tongue out to trace your lower lip, you granted him permission to explore the insides of your mouth.

with tongues intertwined, the kiss gradually became sloppier, more desperate. your fingers found home in his long curls, tugging at the base of it, and supporting yourself while arching your body into his, pressing yourself against his chest, seeking for confirmation that he wanted this just as badly as you did.

he welcomed your proximity by letting his palms fall to your waist, keeping you close, and tracing his touch dangerously close to the curve of your ass.

you whined lowly, but the sounds became ingloriously louder the more he pressed your body against his hard one, his touch wandering, squeezing, feeling.

you messily straddled his lap and sat with your knees on both sides of him, your desire deepening with your kiss, devouring his lips harder, twisting his hair in a confused tangle the more you got lost in them.

his hands went to hold your hips, and you soon felt a stronger weight on them, gently pulling you away and giving you a minute to catch your breath. though it was taken out of you the moment you took in the man in front of you, his lips swollen, his eyes half-lidded, his curls all over the place.

he let out an amused chuckle, combing through your own mess on your head, “hey, pretty. it’s okay. there’s no rush. we can take it slow, hm?”

in that small moment, you were made aware of your own eagerness slipping out of your control and rushing your actions, insatiable with wanting more, but not even being sure if jeongguk wanted that more just as much.

instead, you were sure your whole face was a crimson shade with the way the boy under you fondly grinned, his hand guiding you by the nape and letting your lips meet again in a small peck, before he focused on your face again.

jeongguk never left your eyes, and you were too hypnotized to even think of looking elsewhere. his gaze was steady, magnetic, thirsty to drink in your reaction as he guided your hips against him, letting them drag over his clothed bulge. you moaned, unshameful, your eyes rolling back.

”yeah? you like that?”

you could only nod dumbly, repeatedly, using your hands on his shoulders as support while you kept grinding on him. slowly at first, just how he had suggested. but the stimulation was too good, your clit deliciously meeting his hardness, spreading the embarrassing amount of wetness you had already collected all over your panties. you tentatively picked up your pace, his hands immediately stopping you.

”you need to be patient, doll.” his scold was only playful, the smirk spreading on his features letting you know he enjoyed the effect he had on you, the way he bit his lip communicating he was just as affected. but you liked the feeling of him guiding you through this.

you didn’t know what to do, weren’t sure how to please him, too shy under his adoring look. you sheepishly smiled, falling onto him and hiding yourself in the crook of his neck.

he laughed, his chest moving with it, and you could feel his heart pumping, his warmth meeting the side of your face. he took the hand on your waist and dragged it up your back, soothingly, “you’re doing so good, baby. okay?”

it was sweet, and the praise made you pulse around nothing. you nodded, your nose brushing against his neck as you timidly let your lips leave a trace of wet kisses along his adam’s apple, going up his jaw. he hummed, the sound reverberating in his throat and against your mouth.

you left small pecks on his cheek, to his nose, retreating after laying a quiet one on his mouth. you looked back at him, jumping between his eyes, confession tumbling out your tongue, “sorry. i just want you so bad.”

he chuckled, moving your bangs out of your face, “i want you just as much. but i don’t want this moment to be fast. want to make it special for you.”

his whispered words tugged at the strings of your poor heart. you felt it begging to be ripped out of your chest, banging on your rib cage, maybe trying to find another way up your throat. but its repeated, quick pumping also matched the need pooling down your lower belly, staining your panties.

you nodded, finding his lips again and deepening the kiss, adapting to a slower rhythm as your tongues fervently explored each other. he grabbed your sides and grinded you closer to him, moaning in your mouth as you matched his gentle guiding, meeting the involuntary buck of his hips.

the almost too tender drag of your clothed pussy against his clothed, hard cock soon became torturous for the both of you, reduced to panting, eager messes. you felt unashamedly close just from the repeated action, and if he hadn’t decided to lay you on your back just then, you were sure you would have cummed already.

he was gentle as he positioned you on the couch, your body sprawled while he was mindful not to put too much of his weight on you. when he left your lips, you instinctively whined. your head subtly lifted off the sofa to try and follow his mouth, bring it back on yours, but he only smirked and darted his tongue out to lick off your taste.

he didn’t give you time to protest, to miss his touch, to be left unattended. because he quickly moved to work on your neck, his tattooed hand tentatively seeking its way under your t-shirt.

you let him wander. let him leave wet traces from your jaw down your collarbones while his fingers left goosebumps along their path, and rose up to your chest. he hummed at the feeling of your bare breasts, smirking at the absence of a bra.

he felt the skin under it, only for his palm to cup your boob and knead at it. it was a perfect fit in his large hand, his thumb teasingly slicing over your nipple and making you mewl, arching your back and pushing your front into him.

he moved himself from your neck and hesitantly lifted up your shirt, searching your eyes for permission. you put your hands on his and led them to take it off you, discarding it on the ground.

he sat back on his heels, admiring your figure laying between his legs. in his eyes, you found something you were never met with until that moment.

he looked starved, his pupils blown and following every curve of your body, his hands hovering only to end up caressing your sides delicately.

you blushed, hard, using your hand to cover your face and throwing an arm over your chest. his palms squeezed your hips twice, his thumbs stroking the skin under your ribs, “don’t hide from me, pretty. let me see you.”

you shook your head stubbornly, a small whine escaping your throat. but he could tell you weren’t starting any fight, he could make out your smile, barely concealed under your fingers.

jeongguk moved your wrists and laid them on top of your head, his face nearing again to leave an adoring kiss on your lips. when he found your eyes again, the fondest smile was painting his features, “you’re beautiful.”

“my boobs are small,” your voice was muffled, shy, hidden behind your childish pout.

“i fucking love them,” with one hand still keeping your wrists together, he used the other one to play with your breasts once more, his gaze hypnotized by the way he could make them fit in his large palm, squeezing them together and kneading at the softness.

you moaned, loud and unashamed, when he guided his smooth lips to your nipple, his gaze never leaving yours while he attempted small, kitten licks at it.

when he saw how your eyes lustfully rolled back as his fingers went to play with your other boob, rolling it and letting his thumb slide over the sensitive center, he took it as his go-ahead to wholly engulf your wet nipple in his mouth and suck on it, lick around it, kiss it.

jeongguk was hastily making out with your tits, giving both of them the attention they needed, reducing your nipples to soaked, hard messes.

you felt your soul ascend high and leave your body when, as you unconsciously thrusted your hips up in desperate need of friction, you found that in his knee, the one that was positioned between your legs, the one you now grinded into with no control over your pace, bringing yourself closer to the edge.

“fuck, jeongguk,” you didn’t have time to feel ashamed over how delirious you sounded, or looked, the lewd noises of his sucking taking you even higher, his hands massaging your boobs with intent.

you only got louder the more you let your cunt rub against his leg, a motion you were unable to slow down, too eager to get to the finish line. and this time, jeongguk let you, even spurring you on, “let go, angel. cum on my thigh.”

it was all the encouragement you needed to fully loosen, his own whines resounding against your chest and blending with your high-pitched moans, eyes rolled back, head thrown to the side, fingers clutching around jeongguk’s locks and guiding him further into you as you lost control on his thigh, “gonna cum!”

your orgasm took over your whole body, shaking with overwhelment at the stimulation. all the sensations you were feeling were new to you, but nonetheless welcomed in the way your eyelids drooped with relaxed pleasure and you worked to catch your breath, your muscles untightening, your arms falling by your sides.

jeongguk left one last kiss around your nipple before lifting himself up to admire your fucked out state, your cheeks flushed and sweat adorning you with an angel-like glow, the lazy smile on your face as you stared at him making his heart skip a few beats.

he let his eyes wander, his own expression incredulous at what had just happened, “that was so fucking sexy, baby.”

the way you sheepishly chuckled was contagious, his giggles filling your ears as he lifted you up and pulled you against his chest, your still weak body falling onto him with ease. he smiled fondly, looking down at your face, “if you want to stop here, it’s totally okay. i won’t—“

“no!” your energy came back to you as quickly as it left your body minutes before, sitting up straight in his embrace with your eyes wide and worried. you fumbled with your words, “no— no. i want to keep going. please.”

the grin that took over his features adorably caused his nose to scrunch, and he had to put his lips on yours and let them blend together in a sickly sweet kiss to keep himself from saying the words that were so dangerously close from spilling, on the tip of his tongue. he hoped, as he slid it against yours, that you could still feel them, and accept them.

he retreated to cup your cheek in his palm, your eyebrows still unconsciously drawn up in agitation, but easing as he reassured you, “you don’t have to beg, angel. i’ll give you anything you ask for.”

”okay. couch is uncomfortable. take me to the bedroom,” your arms stretched out, teasingly expecting him to pick you up.

you squealed when he did, taking your legs, wrapping them around his tiny waist and getting up the sofa, leading both of you to your room. he didn’t have to watch where he was going, his feet automatically guiding him, having adjusted to your flat long ago. but even if that weren’t the case, he would still not look, too caught up in your glossy orbs.

he pinched your sides before laying you on the soft surface of your bed, legs still tight around him, “bossy much, hm?”

you shrugged, a naughty grin accompanying the playful glint in your eyes, “you’re following my orders flawlessly.”

he scoffed amusedly, kissing his teeth, “ah, is that right?”

you hummed, eager with taking the back and forth further, see where it takes you, “such a good boy.”

the giggle that tumbled out of you as he narrowed his eyes betrayed you, breaking into a full fit of laughter as he tickled your sides, your legs leaving his waist. he tauntingly bit your neck, not enough to hurt you, grinning mischievously, “i’m letting you get away with too much. need to teach you a lesson.”

the laugh died in your throat the second he lifted his shirt up, showing his body to you for the first time. michelangelo would have loved to sculpt him, that’s the first thought your slowed down brain could come up with as you let your eyes wander all over his upper body.

he was toned, his eight pack abs glowing effortlessly for your mouth to water, his nipples a brownish color and so inviting, making you lean on your forearms for a better view.

the arm that wrapped around one of your legs and pushed it on the side was the one inked with those intricate designs you spent boring, lazy afternoons analyzing, and now they were the reason why you could feel a familiar buzz down your core again, coating your panties with even more of your sticky juice.

“cat got your tongue?” there was no way you could even think of a witty come-back with the way he lowered his pretty face between your thighs, his cocky smirk never leaving his expression as his eyes fixated on your own, challenging you.

but you were long gone, willing to let him do whatever he wanted to your body. you stared intently as his fingers hooked under the hem of your shorts, pulling them down in a sensual motion, until they fell on the floor.

your head fell backwards as he let his nose trace your soaked slit, still hidden underneath the layer of cotton panties, “is this okay?”

he only needed your eager nod to leave a subtle kiss on your clit, then lap at your slick through the thin material, “taste so good, doll.”

jeongguk repeated the motion, licking at you through your undies and letting his big nose brush against your clit torturously, his saliva and your wetness causing the fabric to dig between your lips uncomfortably, showing yourself to him.

you unconsciously bucked your hips up, eagerly demanding to set you free, but he held you down by your waist, “patience, baby.”

you whined loudly, and you couldn’t believe how delirious you sounded already, only moments after your earlier climax. he seemed to enjoy your reactions, the tip of his tongue teasing your entrance and ripping a desperate moan out of you, trying to push yourself into him further but being held down by his strong palms.

you fell on your back, your hair sprawled over your pillows, suddenly too weak to fight against him. he chuckled darkly, speaking against your core, “you’re so cute. so eager for me, angel.”

when he lifted himself up, his mouth glistened with your juice, and you couldn’t help but blush at the image. you were so wet, the liquid stained him even through the layer of clothing still keeping you from fully feeling him.

the silent plead in your eyes was listened to. jeongguk slid off your panties in one swift motion, his eyes hungry at the sight revealed to him, “fuck. so perfect. the prettiest.”

he didn’t show mercy at your weakened state, returning his starved mouth on your cunt, slurping at your lips and sucking on your clit, the stimulation making you see stars under your eyelids.

your eyes snapped open the moment you felt something tentatively poking at your entrance, and as you lowered your head you saw his finger playing with your virgin hole, going up to collect your slick from your slit, then returning on where you were starting to need him.

but you were anxious. he immediately saw it in the way you got up on your forearms again, instinctively closing your legs around his hand. his eyes found yours, reassuringly, “baby. you alright?”

you nodded sheepishly, “yeah. i’m just— scared. don’t want it to hurt.”

the hand that was playing with you now laid on your lower stomach, rubbing it in a sweet manner while he sought for your mouth with his, leaving a honeyed peck on it, “it will hurt a bit, pretty. but i’ll try and make it feel good, hm? if you’re not sure, we can always stop.”

you could only bite your lip as the both of you searched for security in each other’s eyes. he tilted his head, waiting for your approval, the grin spreading and making his long dimples visible infectious, and you stumbled on your words, “can you— kiss me while you do it?”

he hummed fondly, his lips immediately finding yours as he positioned himself between your legs, spreading again and granting him access to the spot you were anxiously eager to feel him.

his tongue slowly moved with yours and lightly lulled your racing heartbeat, instilling some needed tranquility in your system as you felt him close to your core again. his middle finger repeated a circular motion around it, spreading your stickiness, only to bring it on your hole before delicately pushing his digit inside.

a choked out moan escaped you, captured promptly by his lips, keeping you somewhat distracted from the slight burn you felt. it grew the more he slipped himself inside you, and you bit his lip to conceal the pain.

he growled at the action, retreating his finger only to push it in again, this time tentatively deeper. he went over the movement a few times, enough to get you adjusted to the foreign presence, and the more he did it, the more the sharpness turned into pleasure.

”feel good, princess?” the pet name was whispered against your swollen lips, and you kept your eyes closed as you nodded, basking in the newly welcomed feeling.

when he started curling the finger inside you, you involuntarily bucked yourself up against him, your body spasming with your hole and he groaned at the feeling of your tightness, unconsciously grinding on the sheets.

he couldn’t help himself from breaking your kiss to look down, getting lost in the way his digit got sucked inside you, only to come out soaked in your juice. without warning, he slowly added another finger, and you arched your back, searching for support in his shoulder.

jeongguk’s eyes kept jumping between your wet cunt, where his fingers worked in and out, and your pleasure-contorted expression, your mouth agape and unleashing your every moan as your eyes squeezed shut.

he felt deliriously close only from the image, his hard dick desperate for friction and insatiable with the way he was still constricted in his jeans. but this moment was about you and you only. once he felt the way you gripped his shoulder tighter at one particular curl of his digits, he kept hitting that spot repeatedly, faster.

you didn’t notice his face retreating at first, too lost in the bliss of his purposed touch, but you gasped harshly, your eyes tearing open the moment you felt his lips enveloping your clit again and sucking at it, lapping all around it, tasting it as if it was his first meal after ages.

when you looked down, you found him already staring at you through half-lidded eyes. you wailed, feverish, “oh, shit. gguk, don’t— don’t do that.”

he hummed questioningly, and the sound reverberated against your sensitive nub.

you rolled your eyes back, ”gonna cum again if you— fuck.”

“cum around my fingers, baby. cum on my tongue,” the words came out slurred, his mouth full of you, the drenched sounds of your pussy making his encouragement even more erotic as he added a third finger.

his digits kept digging relentlessly inside you, that spot that made your legs weakly squish jeongguk between them being hit repeatedly and bringing you close to your second climax.

what completely undid you were his eager cries against your cunt, and when you managed to lift your head to look down at the boy working so desperately to make you cum on his lips, you saw his hips rutting frantically against your sheets.

you didn’t even have time to announce it, the way your hole spasmed around his fingers and your high-pitched moans doing it for you as you fully let go for the second time because of jeongguk. it was more intense, your body moving with it and unconsciously running away from the touch once it became too intense.

jeongguk cleaned you as best as he could, slurping your juices and licking you off his fingers, climbing up to find your lips and share your own taste with you, his chin coated with your slick.

your pleasured sounds mixed together, the both of you panting and soon laying in silence, one beside the other, staring at the ceiling. you laughed breathlessly, “fuck, gguk. i almost died.”

he only chuckled along with you, the sound strained and dying soon in his throat. with your heartbeat and your breathing settling down, you turned to the side to find jeongguk with his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenching. his fists were clutching the fabric beside him, and his knuckles were white from the effort.

it wasn’t complicated to understand why, the next thing you spotted being the hard outline of his cock looking completely suffocated by his pants. you gulped, “gguk. you seem hard.”

he let out a delirious scoff, his eyes finding yours with an intensity you were only then noticing, ”i am hard, baby. so hard for you.”

you tentatively guided your hand to the button of his jeans, undoing it along with the zip. your words were hesitant, but so sincere, ”let me touch you. wanna make you feel good, too.”

jeongguk watched with his mouth agape as you straddled his lap, sitting on his legs only after sliding his pants down to his ankles. you looked so innocent, timidly playing with the hem of his boxers, and he tried to be patient, but he couldn’t.

he groaned, his head thrown back. “___. please, do something.”

his eyes were glossy with frustration, and you had to fight the urge to kiss him stupid, focusing on the task ahead. a big one, indeed. you weren’t going to lie, you were already intimidated by the outline of it.

now that your naked body sat on top of him, being faced with his almost totally bare skin, you realized how much bigger he was compared to you. of course, he was taller, always towering over you, teasing you for your height and pretending he didn’t see you, bumping into you purposefully or asking how’s the weather down there?

but with his large palm resting at your side and almost covering your entire tummy, you realized the implications of such difference. he could totally wreck you, if he wanted to.

ogling at his dick didn’t make it better. it looked huge. a wet patch stained his underwear near the tip, and you salivated at the sight of it.

you tentatively let your finger run along the covered length, and he hissed, slightly thrusting his hips, making you slide closer, “baby. don’t tease.”

the apology was ready and fast on your lips, genuine concern written in your eyes. you didn’t want to keep his suffering going, but you were also hesitant with how exactly you were going to please him. you’ve never seen a real-life dick, and you’ve certainly never touched one.

it was like jeongguk could read your every thought, your wide orbs like an open book to him, reassurance slipping out of him naturally, “doll. you see this?” he took your wrists and laid your hand on his hardness, gulping at the contact, “you feel this? this is what you did to me. there’s no reason why you should doubt yourself, okay?”

you nodded, still unsure, but surely smiling at his sweet tone. he grinned himself, “you’re so hot, and i literally almost came just by looking at you.”

the giggle that escaped you was lively and it eased your nerves with the way it mirrored in his eyes, fondly jumping all over your face. you bit your lip as you escaped his attentive gaze, finally freeing his cock from his confines and making him release a shaky sigh.

it was perfect. pretty. it touched just under his belly button, the tip angry and wet with precum, the pulsing veins running along its length making it throb.

you took it in your hand delicately, jeongguk hissing, and you gasped under your breath. it felt thick in your hold, your fist barely closing around it.

you weren’t sure what to do. your only examples were pornos, and you knew not to fully trust them. but as you started letting your wrist tentatively flick up and down, slowly, you eagerly drank in his reaction.

jeongguk moaned lowly, his eyelids fluttering shut, focusing on the feeling of your smooth hands taking care of his boner. he got louder when you unexpectedly played with his tip, your thumb swirling around it and spreading his wetness down.

your movements were messy, stutteringly uncoordinated, but the concentrated look in your eyes as you stared at his member intently made his head spin, wishing he could fill your slightly agape, watering mouth with it.

in your own mind, you wished his length could be stuffing up your cunt, instead. you slowed down your doings, ending up haltering them as he found your face again, a protesting whine ready to escape him, but you were quicker to surprise him, your voice shy, ”wanna feel you inside me.”

jeongguk groaned deliriously, eyes rolling back at the simple request, ”fuck. you sure?”

you whispered, ”please.”

”of course, angel. been waiting for so long.”

your mouths found each other quickly, starving, both your heartbeats picking up at the prospect of what was going to happen. he combed through your hair to move them behind your ears, rolling the two of you and making you the one laying under his weight.

in between kisses, you asked, impatient, “do you have a condom?”

”yeah, got one in my wallet,” he was panting with effort just as you were, moving from you only to fully free himself from his clothes and then search in his jeans pockets.

as he took the condom out, ripping it open, he stumbled on his words, suddenly awkwardly self-conscious, “it’s not like i have it because i was— expecting us to, huh—“

”jeongguk. it’s okay,” your sweet voice interrupted his overthinking, pulling him to be on top of you again by his arm, “i’m glad you have it, ‘cause i need to feel you. right now.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. you watched, eyes glossy with want, need, as he rolled the condom along his length, huffing out at the sensitivity.

jeongguk brought you closer to him by your thighs, wrapping them around him. he lowered himself on his forearms, his forehead touching yours, eyes swimming together, the proximity making the both of you smile sheepishly.

he exhaled, “are you still sure about this, doll?”

you nodded, the subtle but growing anxiety making your words get stuck in your throat. jeongguk was gentle, patient, his large palm cupping your cheek, “need to hear you say it.”

”yes. i’m sure. want you so bad,” the confession was slurred, shy under his adoring gaze. he kissed along your jaw, slow, intentional.

“okay. just know we can stop whenever you want. let me know if it hurts. i wanna hear you, hm?” his eyes searched yours, frantically, making sure you were good.

as you nodded again, he grasped your hand to hold it, letting your fingers intertwine and lay by your head. with the other hand, he took his length and positioned it where you needed him the most.

jeongguk made it all feel so intimate, special, and safe, that you sensed your eyes water with a feeling stronger than the words you could allow yourself to say. you felt eternally grateful to him for turning a moment you used to dread into something so delicate and precious.

you felt adored. you felt seen, and heard. you felt protected, understood. you saw your reflection in his eyes, in a way that made you want to hide in there forever, maybe travel a bit further down and find home in his heart.

as he started easing himself inside you, both of you gasping at the feeling, his hand gripping yours harder, a tear ran down your cheek. it was a mixture of emotions, sensations. the fullness of his cock entering you, the burn that came with it, his eyes widening alarmingly as he noticed the tears welling along your bottom lashes.

he stilled inside you, his tip now nuzzled in your warmth, his breath hitching, “does it hurt? baby, what’s wrong?”

”no, it’s just—“ it was on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t say it. not now. maybe never? you swallowed it down your throat, “it hurts a bit but it feels so good, gguk.”

”yeah? fuck. you’re so tight, princess. taking me in so good,” his praises replaced the hurt, both emotional and physical, with a familiar fuzzy pleasure, pooling in your lower stomach and releasing more of your wetness on his dick, making it easier for him to slip inside you.

he groaned as he bottomed out, your moan higher than intended. you felt him throb inside you, just how he could feel you pulse around him. a string of curses followed as he repeated the slow action, pulling back to his tip only to push back in, making sure you grew accustomed to the feeling.

”gguk. i feel so full,” you cried, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, forcing him to stay still inside you. he growled, kissing along your neck and leaving small bites to contain himself from snapping his hips against you.

it was complicated, with the sounds escaping your lips resounding sweetly in his ears and your hole tightening around him in a torturous manner making him release precum inside the condom.

”baby, can i please move? i’m gonna go crazy,” his voice was strained, whiny, muffled in the crook of your neck as your fingers combed through his hair, unconsciously searching for comfort.

your granting hum was more of a high-pitched whine, but he took it positively as he attempted one first thrust inside you, followed shortly by another. your moans got stuck, the air cut from your throat the more he picked up his pace, lifting his face from your neck and straightening up to admire the scene.

it was better than anything he’d ever witnessed, his thickness stuffed in your tight, virgin hole and taking him in so perfectly. he took his free hand to hold you still by your hip as he pushed himself deeper.

you were a mess underneath him. legs squeezing around him, you barely gave jeongguk space to move. you wailed, his name tumbling out your tongue repeatedly as he fucked into you faster. he’d been so gentle with you until that moment, but now his roughness made you impossibly wetter.

when you let your eyes flutter open, you could feel yourself spasm around him at the sight in front of you. his abs contracted with the effort of his pushes, his cock slammed into you relentlessly, his nipples hardened and called for your touch.

you threw one hand to his pec and felt his firmness under you, gripping it for support as he pounded you with intent, your nails scratching his skin, the sounds of your bodies slapping together overtaking your pleasured moans.

he panted, rambling, “fuck, love this pussy. love fucking this pussy. wanna fuck it forever.”

“made just for me. such a perfect fit.”

“that’s how you’ve been waiting to be fucked, huh? nice and deep, you fucking love that.”

his praises and dirty comments made your head spin, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, letting your mouth hang open and release your cries into the stuffy room.

the sight of your fucked out state underneath his control was going to torture him for the following weeks, he was sure of that. he’d see you, sprawled out on your bed for him, your tits moving up and down with each thrust, your pleasured tears staining your face as his name left your pillowy lips like a mantra, every time he’d close his eyelids.

he had to physically hold himself back from releasing already, his length too sensitive and eager, but he wanted to make this moment last for as long as he could possibly handle. he closed his eyes, but he couldn’t escape you. you were loud, and the hottest thing he’s ever heard.

and then, the challenge became harder when you stuttered, unexpectedly, “wanna ride you.”

he threw his head back, a feverish groan rising up his throat, “fuck. you do, pretty?”

you hummed, just as unhinged, your legs untightening around him and weakly pulling at his arm to try and bring him to lay on the bed. he pulled himself out of you slowly, making you cringe at the emptiness, and as he let his back fall on the soft surface, he lifted your figure effortlessly and led you to straddle him.

now on top of him, you weren’t so confident with your earlier claim anymore. underneath you, jeongguk was panting, his pupils blown out, lips agape, cock laying unattended on his stomach. he stroked your sides comfortingly, subtly pulling you closer, and the action caused your slicked pussy to grind against his balls.

the two of you moaned at the contact, and he immediately took his length to pump it a couple of times, gently tapping it against your tummy. you lifted your hips up, positioning yourself on his tip, looking down at jeongguk for support.

the lazy smile you were met with made your heart stutter in your chest, and you put your hand on top of his, still tightly gripping your hip, as you sank down his dick.

your head was thrown back in pleasure, your back arching into him, and jeongguk had to fight with himself to keep his eyes from fluttering shut, wanting to bask in the image of you.

as you fully took him in, you leaned your weight on the palm that fell on his chest, his hands steadying you promptly by your waist, praise ready on his tongue, “doing so amazing, princess. making me feel so good.”

you attempted moving subtly, trying to adjust to the more intense stretch, and the hand that was still holding his led it to cup your boob, instructing him to knead at it.

he moaned shakily, playing with your tit while you lifted your hips only to sink them down again, tentatively repeating the action and gaining confidence the more his whines got louder.

soon, you lost control. the way your clit would brush against his skin every time you bounced down made you pulse relentlessly around him, grinding into the sensation and rotating your hips on him with intent.

you tried to prevent it, to hold yourself back, but all your resolution dissolved in a second the moment you felt jeongguk’s thumb teasing your nub. you jolted forward, still balancing yourself on his chest, his hand on your breast working to keep you straight.

”gguk, i think— i think i’m close again,” you admitted ashamedly, your cheeks flushing but your desire unable to make you stop rutting your hips against his touch, his cock throbbing around your walls.

”yeah? then cum around it, make me feel it,” his low voice spurred you on, the thumb that was teasing you now slicing on your nipple, spreading your slick on your boob.

and that made you let go, for a third time, convulsing on top of him, your cries louder as you spasmed around his thick length, your cunt hugging him impossibly tighter, and for a moment you genuinely feared he’d get stuck.

the strength taken out of you was enough to make you fall onto him, your face in his neck as you panted frantically, his heartbeat matching the speed of yours under your palm laying on his chest.

jeongguk’s voice was weak as he spoke in your ear, his fingers stroking your back comfortingly, “that was amazing, baby. so good.”

you appreciated his constant praises, a lazy grin spreading on your lips, but you couldn't ignore the way he kept thudding inside you, quiet whines stuck in his throat as he tried to conceal them by clutching your sides tighter, stilling himself.

jeongguk wailed feverishly when you lifted yourself up again, resuming your earlier actions, the ones that were bringing him to the point he badly wanted to reach. he was breathless as he took in the determined glint in your eyes, “fu— fuck. doll, what are you—“

”wanna make you cum, gguk.”

he physically couldn’t hold himself from rolling his eyes far deep, bucking up to meet your hips, and the force of his thrusts threw your weak body back on him again, your hard nipples brushing against his equally stiff ones.

”i’ll fuck you, baby, hm? you already did so good for me,” his words were hushed, whispered, delirious, the sound of them overtaken by the sharp pounding.

but he made sure you could feel every syllable, his lips close to your lobe as you held yourself tightly on his shoulders, “so perfect. letting me fuck you good and deep. gonna make me cum so hard, doll.”

your brain couldn’t process any other kind of response other than loud cries, your cunt being relentlessly abused. the waves of your last orgasm still flowed inside you, the buzz coming back to life as the new position gave him perfect access to your sweet, needy spot, hitting it at an inhumane force.

his effort was translated into deep, raspy growls only pushing you closer to the edge, and you swore you could pass out from the overstimulation. but you basked in it, the tears in your eyes blurring your vision.

”you wanna cum again? i know you can, c’mon. i know you got it in you, pretty. just another one. cum with me.”

his pleading, delirious tone undid you. the way you both released with harsh moans was perfectly synced, his hips jolting you forward as you chased your high against his lower stomach. with a few more pushes, he let go fully inside the condom, all the energy being ripped from him at that moment, his hands freeing your waist from the sharp grip while his head fell weakly on the side.

the two of you were almost wheezing, your exhales shaking in your panting chests as you lifelessly rested on him, slowly being lulled by his breathing.

you didn’t even notice yourself slipping so easily into slumber, and if it weren’t for his delicate touch tracing your closed eyelids and moving your hair behind your ear, his sweet voice preventing you from fully falling unconscious, you would have enjoyed just staying in that position forever.

“sweetheart. you sleepy?”

you only hummed, the sound rough and thick.

he removed himself from you slowly, both of you still gasping at the overstimulation, and he gently laid you on your back before tying the condom and throwing it in the bin next to your nightstand.

as soon as your head hit the pillow, your eyes fluttered shut again. the room spun faintly, and your body, exhausted, ignored every request your mind was screaming at you. you were cold, goosebumps rising on your naked skin; your thighs still trembled, a mess of wetness and slick. but you were too tired to move. you could only lay there, sprawled on the sheets.

luckily, jeongguk thought of everything. his mind was full of you, his only thought being taking care of your figure and making sure you were safe, comforted.

he had taken your virginity. it wasn’t just a physical act— it was a gift you had entrusted him with, something you had kept close to your heart, even through all the fears and anxieties you’d shared with him. you had always been afraid to let go, to give such an intimate part of yourself to someone.

but you trusted him, fully and deeply, in a way that you hadn’t trusted anyone before. that knowledge bloomed in his chest like warmth spreading to every corner of his body. he felt a deep sense of responsibility and gratitude. he wanted to honor that trust.

with care, jeongguk slipped away from your side to retrieve a warm, damp towel. the cool air hit your skin as he left, and you stirred slightly, though not fully awake. when he returned and began gently wiping you down, you startled at the sensation, your eyes slowly fluttering open. you were met with his grinning face, his eyes crinkling at the sides, that same boyish smile that always made your heart skip a beat.

“we should clean up, baby,” he said soft, his voice warm and coaxing as he continued to gently clean the slickness between your legs.

“tired,” you murmured in response, your voice thick with exhaustion. “tomorrow.” the word came out as more of a sigh than anything else. you stretched your arms out toward him, your lips forming a small pout. “cuddle. now.”

jeongguk laughed fondly at your sleepy demands, shaking his head as he tossed the towel to the floor. without a second thought, he slid back into bed beside you, pulling the covers over your naked bodies. the warmth of the blanket and the weight of him beside you immediately soothed the lingering shivers in your body, and you sighed in relief.

instinctively, you reached for him, your leg curling around his, your hands seeking the familiar comfort of his waist. your head rested on his chest, where you could feel the steady thump of his heart beneath your cheek. his arm wrapped around you naturally, his fingers tracing gentle circles along your spine.

it wasn’t unusual for you to cuddle, especially during movie nights, or simply when the other needed comfort.

but this was different. there was a new weight to the way your bodies pressed together, your brain grasping around the reality of what had just happened.

your first instinct faced with that thought was to chuckle lightly, your sleepy brain struggling to come up with any more reasonable reaction. when he hummed and moved to look down at your face, you hid yourself further in his chest, your voice muffled, “i can’t believe you fucked me.”

he sounded tauntingly cocky as he moved your hair from your forehead, “now that you put it like that, well, i did.”

your drowsy state lowered all your inhibitions, your eyes fluttering close as you spilled your honesty, “i’ve been fantasizing about this moment for so long.”

“yeah? what a naughty girl,” his playful tone made you blush, the low voice and the hand grazing at the small of your back making you clench around nothing, still sensitive.

you lightly pushed at his chest with a weak smile, “you literally said you were waiting for it to happen, too.”

jeongguk’s eyes gleamed with amusement, his tone dripping in mock shame, “did i, pretty? did i do that? oh god, how indecent of me.”

the taunting banter went on for a while, your fond grins almost breaking your faces in two halves as you started a quick tickle war. it was almost surreal how easily the two of you slipped back into the habituality of your dynamic, as if nothing had changed at all. and in a way, nothing had. you were still you, and he was still jeongguk— the boy who teased you relentlessly and made you laugh until your stomach hurt.

as the laughter faded, your body began to relax completely, your muscles loosening as you sank further into his embrace. your head rested against his toned pecs, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek. his fingers continued their gentle caresses along your back, and for the first time in a long while, you felt completely at peace.

but jeongguk, even in the quiet comfort of the moment, couldn’t let it end just yet. his mind was still racing, still full of thoughts of you.

he wanted to hear your voice. wanted to be soothed by its melody. he spoke quietly, almost hesitant, his breath warm against your hair, “don’t fall asleep so soon. i’ll miss you.”

your voice was rough with weariness, but you were quick with your answer, “i’m literally lying on top of you.”

“i know,” he whispered, his thumb brushing softly against your waist. “but i wanna talk to you.”

with great effort, you blinked your eyes open, lifting your head just enough to look at him through half-lidded eyes, “it’s your fault if i can’t talk right now.”

“damn, i got a magic stick,” his voice sounded oddly proud of it and you groaned, hitting him weakly on his stomach and causing him to giggle.

“you’re so gross.”

“you hurt me!” he whined dramatically and it made you roll your eyes amusedly.

chuckling softly, you took his face in your hands and pressed your fingers gently against his lips, “shut up.” your voice was playfully fond as you nestled back against him, your eyelids growing heavier by the second, dozing off again.

at least trying to, because only a minute later his soft voice resounded again.

it was barely audible in the stillness, “___.”

“hmm?”

“i’m so happy.”

his whispered voice tickled your ear and you giggled, brushing it on your shoulder with a sheepish grin on your lips.

you looked up at him through droopy eyelids, both your orbs swimming in a deep feeling you couldn’t name, “i am too. i don’t think i can feel my pussy anymore, but i’m very happy nonetheless.”

your wittiness even after being completely drained of all your energy surprised him, the laugh escaping him moving in his chest and reflecting in your own fond smile.

he left a peck on your forehead, bringing you to lay down on him again, “you’re so silly. i love you.”

the words left his lips so naturally, as if he had always known them to be true, and they sounded so right that it took both of you another moment to realize their implications.

your heart stopped, and both of you froze. your breath hitched and your eyes widened, but you stayed still, too startled to look up at him.

you felt his heart beat impossibly faster in your ear, and you perfectly pictured the shock that was painting his expression right now.

his hands clutched your sides tighter, trying to find a way to keep his running mind from spiraling, your silence not helping whatsoever. he stuttered, “i— i mean. i— oh god, i’m so sorry.”

the hurt in his tone immediately made your chest clench, panic flushing in your veins. you met his eyes alarmedly, jumping between them, “jeongguk. don’t be sorry. you love me?”

he wasn’t sure what to do, couldn’t figure out if the feeling was mirrored as intensely in you as it was in him. it had been building inside him for weeks, lingering beneath the surface, making his heart race and his thoughts blur every time you were near.

the realization hadn’t come to him in a grand, sweeping moment but in the quiet of the bookstore one random afternoon. he had been stacking shelves, mindlessly organizing the rows of novels, when he caught sight of you. you were tucked into a corner, absorbed in a murakami novel, your fingers brushing the edges of the pages with care.

he hadn’t expected you to show up that day. he was sure you’d mentioned having lectures and that you couldn’t meet up with him, so seeing you there, completely unannounced, had startled him.

he remembered standing there for a moment, frozen in place, just staring at you walk through the door. and then you had lifted your head, and your eyes met his across the quiet, sunlit room.

the smile you gave him was sheepish as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your confession tumbling out softly, “i skipped my classes. i wanted to be here. needed to see you.”

it was shy, and said with a feeling in your gaze that he was scared to decipher.

but he couldn’t help the way it settled in his heart. stubborn, unmoving. the truth was clearly in front of him, and it took the semblance of your face.

you were the truth. he was in love.

so, he could only be truthful to you, “i— yes. i love you.”

the words sank into your skin, filling you with warmth and a sense of completeness that made your chest swell. you exhaled deeply through your nose, trying to steady the burst of emotion building inside you, but your eyes softened, and a tear slipped down your cheek as you smiled, wide and genuine.

“i love you too, gguk.”

it was a simple reply, but the weight behind it carried everything. you didn’t need to say anything more. you couldn’t even if you wanted to, your lips immediately eating at each other, gulping down your furious flow of thoughts and accepting. hearing. feeling. seeing.

all the times you forced to keep shut and convince yourself that what you saw in him and all his care towards you was just coming from a place that would forever see you two as friends. all the secret touches, the shared meals, the warm nights on your couch. all the books you read for him, all the lines he highlighted for you.

it was love. all along. and you felt its power against him, your heartbeats syncing.

when you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, both of you breathing softly in the quiet aftermath of the confession. jeongguk’s arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

the silence that followed wasn’t awkward or uncertain. it was peaceful. comfortable.

and lulled by the quiet, jeongguk ended up being the first to fall asleep, his nervous energy fading away, replaced by a deep sense of contentment. his breathing became slow and steady, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his muscles relaxing.

despite your earlier exhaustion, you were too wired to sleep. you were still flowing with excitement. the night’s events hit you with great force, and kept you wide awake.

quietly, you reached for your phone on the nightstand, careful not to disturb jeongguk. the screen lit up, showing the time. 3:47 am.

even though it was late, you couldn’t resist. you pulled up jimin’s contact and pressed the call button. waiting. he was always awake at this hour.

jimin had been your best friend for years. your loyal confidant, the one you could splutter all your feelings to and never be judged. he had been by your side all along this particular ride, going from a silly, little crush to feeling raging love for the boy in your arms.

you smiled wide at the prospect of jimin’s reaction at the news you were about to share with him. he was the first person you wanted to inform, he deserved to know.

“bitch, don’t tell me you’re crying over jeongguk, ‘cause—“

those are the first words that came through the line, and they made you silently chuckle at the irony, immediately engaging in his banter, “well, sorta kinda. he said he loves me.”

there was a beat of silence on the other end, followed by jimin’s amused scoff, “wow. crazy news. would have never guessed.”

you were stunned, to say the least. your mouth hung open as you whisper-yelled, “bitch! is this seriously all you have to say?”

you were mindful not to wake jeongguk with your conversation, looking down at him with care. his cheek was squished on your small breast, his mouth pouting and releasing heavy puffs. one of his hands rested protectively over your side, and his thumb brushed your under boob.

he was cozily nestled between your legs, his wavy hair brushing your chin, and he looked so peaceful it was like he was made to be held by you.

you couldn’t help the tears from welling in your eyes as jimin’s next words accompanied the view of the boy you loved, now finally yours.

“babe, c’mon, it was obvious.”

[tender-rosiey]

Hi. This is my first time writing arequest so i dont really know what im doing but i love your husband sukuna series and i wanna ask for a husband sukuna with a shy baby daughter bc your sukuna is 🤌

reluctance — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: so glad you like my husband!sukuna works <33 hope this one is to your liking as well MWUAH 🫶

“come on, d/n,” you coax gently.

your daughter, barely two years old, shakes her head from behind your legs, her tiny hands clutching the fabric of your kimono as she hides from the imposing figure of her father.

sukuna stands at the doorway, his arms crossed, his usual stern expression in place.

“she’s still hiding?” sukuna raises an eyebrow, his deep voice filling the room, though it isn’t harsh.

you kneel, gently petting your daughter’s head, “she’s shy. you know how she gets when you’re around.”

sukuna exhales slowly. he observes your daughter quietly. wide-eyed but cautious, her tiny fingers tightening their grip on you. your daughter was notably quite soft.

it didn’t help that her father, sukuna, didn’t exactly have the most inviting presence.

“come here,” he says, his tone gruff, holding out a hand.

the little girl hesitates, her bottom lip trembling slightly. you place a reassuring hand on her back and whisper softly, “it’s okay” you smile, “that’s your dad; he won’t hurt you.”

at your words, sukuna looks down at your daughter, his daughter.

she looks up at you, then back at sukuna. with the smallest shuffle, she takes one step toward him then sees him quirk an eyebrow which makes her quickly retreat, still unsure.

sukuna clicks his tongue, while you giggle. your daughter clings harder onto you at the sound of his disapproval.

“she sure is jumpy,” he says, stretched hand moving to rest on his hips, “how the hell is that my daughter?”

“ever studied biology?”

“do not get smart with me,” he warns, but his threats have long lost their effect on you.

the little interaction gives your daughter a sense of familiarity, seeing you talk so easily with him. with some courage finally mustered, your daughter blinks up at sukuna, her small voice barely audible as she mumbles, “papa...?”

sukuna’s sharp gaze relaxes just the faintest bit at the sound of her voice, “yes. I’m right here.”

she stares for another moment, before she toddles over to him. she stumbles and holds desperately onto his legs. she looks up at him, and he gives her no reaction.

your daughter takes that as a good sign, and she looks back at you with sparkly eyes.

“there you go,” you laugh, standing up. “see? not so bad.”

sukuna looks at your daughter, then back at you, “you coddle her too much.”

you fold your arms with a playful smirk, “she’s two. she’s allowed to be coddled a little.”

“she’ll be stronger if she learns early.” sukuna’s voice is firm. she is clinging to him now, a little less hesitant as she begins to tug at his kimono.

she lets out small mumbles as she tries to gain his attention.

"uh-huh, sure," you tease, stepping closer and placing your hand on his forearm, "you’re so tough, honey. maybe we should get her a little curse to toughen her up. would that make you happy?"

he scoffs but doesn’t answer, his attention flicking back to the girl holding onto him. you could see the faintest hint of something in his expression, though it wasn’t something he would ever acknowledge verbally.

for some reason, the scene of his daughter faced with a curse, at least in this age, doesn’t particularly please him.

her eyes are soft. her entire being is. there is no way that she would survive, and knowing his little daughter, she will burst into tears the moment the curse appears. that conclusion makes him think.

he stays silent, before he finally mutters, "never mind. she's fine the way she is.”

you beam at his words and pull his face down to place a kiss on his cheek, “aww, you are going soft, yay!”

“I will kill you,” he sneers, but then he feels his daughter raise her arms. he looks down at her with a scowl, “what do you want, you brat?”

the tone makes her flinch back, but then she tightens her fist and stutters, “u-up!”

“you and your mother are insolent,” he side-eyes you, and you raise your hands in surrender. his eyes flick back to her, “you ordering me around?”

her eyes start to water, but she tries to persevere, “up…?”

your husband groans and bends down to pick her up. the way he gives into her demands is sweet in its own way.

it would make you laugh, if he didn’t pick you up in process which instead makes you gasp. now, both you and your daughter are carried—effortlessly—in his arms.

you smile widely at your husband, while he avoids looking at you. sukuna instead looks at you daughter. he then asks, “are you happy now?”

your daughter stares silently at him, and he stares at her back. in the midst all this staring, your daughter realizes something: her dad has a second face.

her lips start quivering, and she raises her hands to cover her face as she starts bawling and wailing

“ugh, why is she crying now?” your husband groans, irked by the sudden loud noise.

“your face probably scares her.”

“I hate kids.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize

check out my buy me a coffee!

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

.°⋆🖇₊˚ෆ 𝑶𝑯 𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑫, 𝑴𝒀 𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑫 !!

. . . or how they react when you call them your husband.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ teddy’s notes: hey guys!!! kind of a new format here, i hope you like this <33 no warnings, just pure fluff and some mild suggestiveness. enjoy!

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ nanami kento;

it’s a quiet evening, one of those rare nights where the world slows down just enough for you and nanami to breathe. he’s sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping on his coffee, his glasses low on his nose as he reads through some paperwork. the soft glow of the lamp casts a warm light across his features, and you can’t help but smile to yourself.

“hey, husband,” you say, the words slipping out before you can really think about them.

nanami’s hand stills mid-sip. his eyes flick up to meet yours, the surprise clear in his gaze before his expression softens. the corner of his mouth tugs up ever so slightly, but it’s enough to make your heart skip.

“what did you just call me?” he asks, voice lower than usual, and you can see the shift in him—the way his shoulders relax, like the simple word has settled something deep inside him.

“husband,” you repeat, grinning a little at the effect it’s clearly having on him. “you know, because you’re mine.”

nanami places his mug down with a little more force than necessary, his gaze locked on you now, and for a moment, you think he might say something—something serious, maybe—but then he just shakes his head with a small, amused sigh.

“you’re lucky you’re so cute,” he mutters, standing up and walking toward you. his hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel his breath against your forehead as he leans down.

“because i’m not sure i’m going to survive being called that,” he whispers, his voice a little strained.

you laugh softly, your arms wrapping around his neck, and nanami presses his lips to the top of your head, lingering there for a moment.

“my husband,” you say again, just for the thrill of seeing the way he melts every time.

this time, when he pulls back, his smile is full-blown, and you can practically see the little spark in his eyes. “don’t do that to me, or we won’t make it to the couch.”

you laugh, tugging him closer, because you know exactly what you’re doing—and honestly, he isn’t worried about it at all.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ gojo satoru;

it’s a lazy afternoon, the kind that stretches on forever with no real plans except being near each other. gojo is lounging on the couch, wearing his usual smirk as he scrolls through his phone, while you’re curled up beside him, reading a book. the soft hum of the room and his occasional teasing glances are enough to make you feel like you’re in your own little bubble.

you’re halfway through a page when you glance at him, the words slipping out before you even realize what you’re saying.

“hey, husband,” you murmur casually, not expecting any reaction.

gojo freezes. his finger stops scrolling, and for the first time in a while, he looks at you with a completely genuine expression—no teasing, no smirks, just raw surprise in his eyes.

“what did you just call me?” he asks, his voice low, almost too calm, and you can see the hint of something dangerous flicker in his gaze.

you look up from your book, blinking innocently. “husband,” you say again, this time a little slower, emphasizing the word as you let it hang in the air. “because you are, don’t you know that?”

you watch as gojo’s lips part slightly, like he’s trying to process the word and what it means coming from you. his usual smugness is gone, replaced by something softer, a bit shaken, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“you just…” he starts, but his words trail off as he stares at you, his expression too focused. then, without warning, he’s up on his feet, his hands grabbing your shoulders, pulling you up to face him.

“say it again,” he breathes, his tone a mix of disbelief and pure want, like he’s hanging on every syllable.

you can’t help but grin. “husband,” you say again, this time with a little more emphasis, and that’s all it takes.

gojo’s eyes darken in an instant. his hand reaches for your chin, tilting your face up to meet his as he leans in, his lips brushing yours in the softest, most desperate kiss. it’s nothing like his usual teasing or showy affection. this is pure, raw, and filled with a level of emotion that makes your heart race.

when he pulls back, he’s breathing hard, his fingers tracing the side of your face like he’s trying to memorize the moment. “i think you’re gonna kill me, you know that?” he mutters, his voice husky, eyes still searching yours.

you smile, softly, knowing that you’ve completely undone him—and that’s exactly how you like it. “sorry, husband,” you tease, your fingers gently brushing through his hair.

he groans, leaning his forehead against yours, the smile he can’t hide slowly spreading across his face. “god, i love it when you call me that.”

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ toji fushiguro;

toji doesn’t react to many things, not in the way most people would expect. his life is full of chaos, violence, and uncertainty, but he’s always been the type to keep a level head. nothing shakes him. nothing surprises him.

but when you say it—husband—his whole world tilts.

it happens as you’re standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter while you chat with him. you’re discussing plans for the day, your voice light and easy, when you just… drop it.

“well, my husband can take care of that,” you say, dismissing the matter, your eyes not even leaving the sink as you dry the dishes.

and boom.

toji freezes. his hand, halfway to his cup, stills in mid-air. his breath catches, but he doesn’t let it show. still, his heart is beating a little faster than usual.

husband.

he swears the word rings in his ears, louder than anything he’s heard all day. husband.

his lips part as if he’s about to say something, but no words come out. he clears his throat, finding his voice a little rougher than he’d like.

“did you just say…?” his voice is lower than usual, darker, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s imagining things.

you glance up at him, blinking innocently, like you’ve said nothing extraordinary. “huh?”

he steps closer, his gaze unwavering, but there’s a glimmer of something new there—something raw, something that cracks his usual calm.

“husband.” his voice is a little rougher now, the word hanging in the air.

you laugh softly, but there’s that playful glint in your eyes. “yeah, that’s right. you’re my husband, aren’t you?”

toji’s chest tightens, a low growl escaping him as a smile creeps onto his lips. fuck.

“you can’t just say that so casually,” he mutters, voice laced with something dangerously close to satisfaction. “makes me wanna drag you off to bed every damn time.”

you raise an eyebrow, teasing. “oh? is that so, husband?”

he steps forward, now inches from you, his usual intimidating presence only amplifying. “damn straight.” his hands grip the counter on either side of you, caging you in, as his voice drops into a low murmur. “you’re gonna make me lose my mind, y’know that?”

and just like that, the man who rarely loses his composure, is falling apart—and it’s all because you called him your husband.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ sukuna ryoumen;

the air is thick with tension, but in that moment, everything feels still. sukuna lounges in his usual spot, perched with an air of arrogance that would intimidate anyone else—but not you. you’re sitting across from him, teasing him with a casual smile as you scroll through your phone.

suddenly, you glance up at him and, without thinking, the words slip out—perfectly natural.

“hey, husband,” you say, your voice light, casual, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

time stops. sukuna’s sharp eyes snap to you, narrowing in disbelief as his posture shifts, something flickering in the intensity of his gaze. he freezes, his usual confident sneer falling away just enough for you to notice.

“what did you just say?” his voice is low, controlled, but there’s an edge to it now—something that wasn’t there before.

you blink, catching the shift in his demeanor. “husband,” you repeat, your tone playful. you’re not sure why you said it, but now that the words are out, you’re curious to see his reaction. “you know, because you are, aren’t you?”

sukuna’s eyes darken, the way his mouth twitches betraying the storm brewing beneath the surface. he stands slowly, his movements deliberate and precise, as if he’s trying to contain the surge of emotion that’s caught him off guard.

he closes the distance between you with a single step, and you’re already regretting your teasing. but then, he’s right in front of you, his hand cupping your chin with a grip that’s firm but not painful.

“you think you can just… say that to me?” his voice is gravelly now, laced with something darker, more possessive. there’s no hint of the cold detachment he usually carries—just raw, simmering intensity that makes your pulse quicken.

you swallow, looking up at him with a playful smile. “why not? you’re mine, after all.”

sukuna’s expression shifts—just slightly, but enough to make your heart race. he’s flustered. you almost can’t believe it.

without warning, he pulls you into him, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that’s almost feral. you gasp into the kiss, your mind reeling as he deepens it, his hand threading through your hair with an urgency that makes it clear how much he’s affected by those simple words.

when he finally pulls back, his breath is heavy, and he’s staring at you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “husband?” he repeats, his voice hoarse now. “you really think you can call me that and not expect consequences?”

you grin, looking up at him through your lashes. “well, if you’re my husband, then I guess you’re stuck with me.”

sukuna smirks, but there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes, something that makes you feel like you’ve won—this battle, at least.

“god help you.” he mutters, but his fingers brush gently against your cheek, and you know you’ve completely undone him.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ geto suguru;

it’s a quiet evening, the kind where everything feels too perfect, too serene. you’re sitting on the couch, tucked into the warmth of geto’s side, with a book in your lap. he’s absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair, his other hand loosely holding his phone, but his attention is clearly more on you than anything else.

in a comfortable, almost lazy moment, you glance up at him, a soft smile curling at your lips.

“husband,” you say lightly, the word just slipping out as you continue to flip through the pages of your book.

geto’s entire body tenses, and for a split second, you wonder if you said something wrong. his gaze snaps down to you, and there’s something… off about the way he’s looking at you.

“what did you just call me?” he asks, his voice so smooth, so calm, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that betrays his sudden shift in mood.

you blink up at him, a little surprised. “husband,” you repeat, glancing at him with an innocent smile.

the change is immediate—his phone is forgotten, dropped carelessly to the side as he turns toward you fully, eyes darkening with something far more intense than just the usual affection.

“don’t say that again unless you’re ready for me to do something about it,” geto says, his voice dangerously low, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

you raise an eyebrow, unbothered by the sudden shift. “why? what are you going to do, hmm?”

the playful challenge in your voice makes his restraint snap. he pulls you to him in one fluid motion, pressing his lips to your forehead before trailing them down to your jaw, whispering in a tone that makes your heart race, “i’m going to make sure you never forget who your husband is.”

his hands find their way to your waist, and you can feel how he’s trying to hold himself back, his breath shallow as he searches your face for any sign that you’re joking. but there’s nothing in your eyes but genuine affection, a little teasing, and definitely not a hint of regret.

he groans softly, pressing his forehead against yours, breathing you in like he’s just discovered his favorite scent. “you’re killing me, you know that?”

you laugh, fingers brushing against his chest. “well, husband, looks like you’re stuck with me.”

he chuckles darkly, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “you have no idea what you’ve just started.”

but as he pulls you closer, as his lips finally claim yours in a kiss that’s slow and deep, you know he wouldn’t want it any other way.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ higuruma hiromi;

the courtroom is silent, the weight of the day’s cases heavy in the air. but you and higuruma are taking a small break in his office, your presence calming after the whirlwind of legal battles. he’s sitting behind his desk, scribbling notes, but every now and then, his eyes drift to you, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches you read through a document.

you look up at him, the word slipping from your mouth without any hesitation.

“husband.”

his pen freezes mid-air. for a few seconds, it feels like the world pauses. his eyes widen, and his face flushes, a deep crimson spreading across his cheeks.

you blink, a little confused by his reaction. “husband?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow as you try to gauge his response.

higuruma clears his throat, his hand awkwardly adjusting the pen, as if he can’t quite focus on anything other than what you just said. “wait, you… you just called me—”

“husband,” you say again, this time with a grin.

he blinks rapidly, his mind clearly racing, and you can see the subtle shift in his demeanor. the normally composed lawyer seems completely rattled, and it only makes you want to tease him more.

“you—you’re calling me your husband?” he asks, his voice shaking just a little, like he’s struggling to believe it.

you nod, your smile widening as you slowly rise from your seat and walk toward him. “yeah, you’re my husband.”

higuruma’s breath catches, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that catches you off guard. before you can fully process it, he stands quickly, moving toward you in one swift motion, as if your words just completely shattered the calm exterior he always presents.

“god,” he mutters, his voice low and trembling as he pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “i wasn’t ready for that. you—you really just called me your husband.”

you giggle softly, feeling the way his heart beats rapidly against your chest. “well, you are my husband.”

“and here I thought I was the one who needed to keep it together,” he chuckles, but there’s a warmth in his voice that makes your heart flutter. “you just—”

he pulls you closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “you just made me fall even more in love with you.”

you smile softly, your fingers gently brushing his cheek as you look up at him, your eyes meeting his with the kind of tenderness that only comes from the two of you together.

“higuruma,” you say, your voice teasing. “you’re mine. husband.”

and with that, he loses it all over again, pulling you into a kiss that feels like everything he’s been holding back is finally pouring out.

[beloveds-embrace]

(Poly 141 x farmer reader: John gets dishonorably discharged, and finds a new purpose in accepting your farm job advertisement, and the rest of the taskforce task force slowly mould themselves into your life

This was inspired by @devil-in-hiding’s wonderful, amazing On the Run series! Make sure to send her and the fic so, so much love! 💕💞💕 truthfully, this isn’t much and it definitely didn’t turn out the way I hoped it would, but I still hope it’ll be enjoyable <33)

The creak of old wood and the faint hum of bees in the garden welcomed John as he stepped onto the porch of the small farmhouse. His boots, scuffed and caked with dried mud, felt heavier than ever, broad shoulders sagging under the invisible weight he carried. The sharp scent of freshly tilled earth and blooming wildflowers should have been a comfort, but John barely noticed it among all the thoughts swirling within his head.

It had been weeks since the dishonorable discharge (as if he’d ever leave his own men behind. As if.) , weeks of wandering aimlessly, a hollow shell of himself. The military had been his life, his purpose, and to be stripped of it so publicly left him untethered. The scars he’d accumulated over decades of service seemed trivial compared to this- the one wound he couldn’t bandage, couldn't let heal so it could turn to a forgotten scab.

The farm job advertisement he’d found on the bulletin board of a dingy diner while aimlessly driving had been a last-ditch effort. He needed something- anything- to keep his hands busy and his mind from spiraling.

And now here he was, standing at your door.

When you answered, he was struck silent for a moment. You weren’t what he had expected. A soft curve of a smile greeted him, paired with eyes that seemed to hold the warmth of the sun itself. Your frame was wrapped in a well-worn but clean dress, your body curvy and full in a way that instantly set you apart from the wiry, hardened edges of his old world. There was something disarming about the way you stood there, your hands dusted with flour, your hair slightly mussed from whatever you’d been working on before he arrived.

You were what he’d worked so hard to protect. To keep from seeing the horrors that were kept hidden from the larger public.

“You must be John Price,” you said, your voice soft but firm, like the lull of rain against a tin roof. You offered him a hand, strong but gentle, calloused with years of hardwork. “I’m glad you came. I’ve been needing some help around here.”

John nodded stiffly, his voice rasping from disuse. “Happy to help.” He said simply, though the words felt foreign in his mouth.

You studied him for a moment, taking in the set of his jaw and the way his blue eyes seemed darker than they should have been. You didn’t press, didn’t ask why he was here or what had brought him to your quiet corner of the world. Instead, you gestured for him to follow you as you began pointing out the work that needed doing.

The farm was modest but well-kept, with rolling fields of golden wheat and neat rows of vegetables that hinted at how hard you worked to keep everything running. Your tone shifted as you explained things, clear and confident as you outlined his responsibilities- though you had those written in the ad as well, and so he knew what to expect. There was no hesitation in the way you moved, and John found himself admiring the way your body seemed made for this life- strong and soft, with a natural grace that made him feel clumsy in comparison. A foreign feeling to him.

The work was grueling, but John threw himself into it with a determination that surprised even him. Fences were mended, fields were tilled, and hay was hauled, the strain in his muscles a welcome distraction from the heaviness in his chest, the daily routine providing a purpose he’d been searching for. You worked alongside him every day, your hands as dirty as his by the end of it. You didn’t shy away from the harder tasks, your body bending and lifting with an ease that left him stealing glances when you weren’t looking.

It didn’t take long for you to notice the cracks in him, though. The way his eyes seemed haunted in the quieter moments, or how he would pause, his hands clenching into fists as if fighting off a memory. He wasn’t sleeping well- you could tell by the dark circles under his eyes and the way he moved in the mornings, sluggish and stiff, gratefully accepting the tea you’d make. He wouldn’t talk about it, but you saw the weight he carried, and it broke something in you.

You began helping him in your own quiet way. A warm, full plate of food at the end of a long day, a soft blanket folded neatly on the porch swing when you knew he’d sit there at night. You didn’t pry, but you’d offer him small comforts, like the way you’d linger for a moment longer when handing him a glass of water, letting your fingers brush his.

“You’re doing good work here, John,” you told him one evening as you set a plate of stew in front of him. Your voice was gentle, though it left no room for argument. “Thank you. I’m glad it was you who came by.”

He grunted in response, but the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He appreciated your kindness, though he didn’t know how to express it. He couldn’t shake the way you made him feel- not just useful, but seen.

The first visitor arrived a few weeks later, just as you were finishing up the morning chores. Simon- whom John introduced as Ghost, military callsigns were strange to you- was as imposing as his name suggested, his tall frame and masked face almost startling you when you turned the corner of the barn.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, low and gravelly. His dark eyes studied you carefully, as if trying to assess whether you were friend or foe. “Heard John was here. Wanted to check on him.”

Simon stayed, though he didn’t say why and you didn’t ask. At first, it seemed like he was just there to make sure John was alright, but soon enough, he was pitching in, fixing broken tools and hauling heavy loads with an ease that belied his quiet nature. He was efficient and methodical, and your german shepherd dog, Riley, adored him from the get-go.

You noticed the way he watched you, his gaze lingering when you didn’t think he’d notice. Simon had a way of positioning himself near you, as if he could ward off any harm just by being close. He’d take over heavy tasks without you asking, broad shoulders and strong hands making easy work of things that left you breathless when John was busy doing something else.

The rain brought Kyle “Gaz” Garrick to your doorstep after Simon, his clothes soaked through and his face muted with exhaustion. He knocked once, and when you opened the door, his lopsided grin and the sparkle in his brown eyes immediately disarmed you.

“You must be the saint putting up with Price,” he’d joked, though his voice was warm as you fluttered and flitted about to bring him some towels, warm food and a chance to warm up. “Mind if I dry off before I drown?”

Kyle brought a lightness to the farm that you hadn’t even known had been missing, his laughter and teasing filling the air like birdsong. He quickly took to the work, his lean frame surprisingly strong as he helped with everything from repairing the chicken coop to plowing the fields. But you caught the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at you, his smile lingering when you were near, and especially bright whenever you’d poke back at him.

“You sure you’re not too soft for this kind of work, Garrick?” you teased after he groaned about the weight of a hay bale, hands on your hips.

“Soft?” he shot back, flexing an arm, and then he winked at you. “These are prime muscles, love. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you keep sneakin’ looks.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed at the accusation, and Kyle smirked.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish arrived with the same energy as a summer storm, his laughter echoing through the fields before you even saw him. “Hope you’ve got room for one more!” he declared, his broad grin making you smile despite yourself.

Johnny was impossible to ignore, his enthusiasm infectious. He worked tirelessly, his hands calloused but gentle as he helped. He had a way of making you laugh, his jokes and compliments leaving your cheeks warm more often than not.

He immediately took to helping you with the animals especially, affectionately naming every goat and chicken, and teasing you about how they seemed to follow you everywhere.

“It’s because they know a good soul when they see one.” he said one evening, brushing hay from your hair. His fingers lingered a second too long before he pulled back, and you pretended your smile wasn’t bashful and your heart wasn’t thudding faster than baby goats running to drink their milk bottles.

The four of them fell into an easy rhythm just like that, their camaraderie seamless, and you truly understood just how close of a unit they must have been.

But what you didn’t notice was the way they watched over you. Whether it was John stepping in to take a heavy load from your hands or Simon silently following you to make sure you were safe, they all seemed to share an unspoken agreement to protect you.

And then there was the way they looked at you- not just with admiration, but with something deeper. John admired the way you carried yourself, your curves soft yet strong, a quiet confidence in every step. Simon found himself drawn to your steadiness, your calm presence soothing the chaos in his mind. Kyle loved your kindness, the way you always seemed to know what they needed without asking. And Johnny? Johnny adored everything about you, from your laugh to the way your body moved with an effortless grace.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you all sat on the porch, the scent of freshly cut hay hanging in the air.

“You’ve all been such a big help,” you said, your voice soft and happy as you looked at them, Riley curled near your feet. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

John’s eyes met Simon’s, and Kyle and Johnny exchanged a glance.

“We’re not going anywhere,” John said finally, his voice steady. “Not if you’ll have us.”

You smiled, a warmth spreading through your chest as you looked out at the fields.

You had… truly never expected your precious little farm to become such a sanctuary for others as it was for you, but you were glad. It meant you were doing something right.

Something very right, going by the way you caught them looking at you.

At first, you hadn’t thought much of it. You were used to glances- it came with being a little softer, a little curvier than most women. People always seemed to look a little longer than they needed to, whether out of judgment or admiration, though you’d long since stopped trying to figure out which.

But this? This was different.

John’s gaze lingered when he thought you wouldn’t notice, sharp blue eyes tracing the curve of your hips and the swell of your thighs as you bent to collect eggs or reached up to pull a stubborn weed. When your skirts brushed your legs in the breeze, you swore you saw his jaw tighten, the flicker of something restrained in his expression before he turned back to whatever task he’d assigned himself for the day.

Simon was harder to read, but not impossible. He was quiet, his eyes shadowed under the brim of his cap or the mask he still occasionally wore out of habit, but there was a weight to the way he watched you. He never let you out of his sight if he could help it, always a step behind you when you carried something too heavy, his broad frame so steady and reliable it made your breath catch sometimes. When your hands brushed- accidentally, at first- he didn’t pull away quickly like most men would. Instead, he lingered just long enough for you to notice, just long enough to make you wonder how it would feel to have his fingers dig into your softness.

Kyle was far less subtle. He flirted openly, grinning whenever he managed to make you blush, which was often. He’d find any excuse to compliment you- how strong you were, how beautiful your smile was, how lovely your hair looked in the sunlight. It was playful at first, but then came the moments when his teasing turned quiet, almost tender, like when he brushed dirt off your cheek or tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His hands always hovered, careful but close enough to leave you wondering if he’d reach for you properly if you just gave him the smallest sign.

And Johnny? Johnny was a walking storm of affection. He wasn’t shy about how much he adored you. From the way he complimented your cooking- “I swear, love, you’re a magician in that kitchen”- to how he always seemed to find a reason to be near you, even when he wasn’t working. He’d lean against the doorframe, arms crossed and a crooked grin on his face as he watched you knead dough or arrange flowers in a vase. And then there were the touches- small, fleeting things, like his hand on the small of your back as he passed by or the way his fingers grazed yours when he handed you tools.

You’d been blind to it at first, convincing yourself it was just gratitude for the work, for the meals, for the home you’d offered them. But as the days stretched into weeks and their gazes grew heavier, their presence closer, it became harder and harder to ignore the truth.

They admired you.

Not just as a caretaker or a friend, but as something more- something deeper.

It was there in the way John’s voice softened when he spoke to you, the way Simon’s posture shifted when anyone unfamiliar stepped onto the property, putting himself between you and whatever potential threat he saw. It was in the way Kyle’s jokes always seemed to circle back to how lovely you looked doing even the simplest things, and the way Johnny’s laughter died in his throat whenever you smiled at him just a little too long.

And the realization left you flustered- unsure of what to do with the warmth that bloomed in your chest whenever they lingered too close or brushed against you without meaning to.

They all cared for you, and in a way that went far beyond just gratitude.

The knowledge sent your heart racing whenever one of them looked at you like that- like you were something precious, something worth protecting. Like you were worth staying for.

And maybe- just maybe- you were ready to let them.

[sleep-0-deprived]

Feels like sugar in me~ (Dom Yandere manager x model male reader) ૮꒰っ˕‹̥̥̥ ꒱ა

WC:. 2.5k

Tags: power abuse, ass eating, voyuer, humiliation, gaslighting/ manipulation, older man-younger man (character is referenced in his mid forties and reader in his twenties) dark content, slight dub con, dacryphilia <33

A/N: my posting schedule has been all wonky the past month! But I hope you guys enjoy and as promised @blond3ang3l ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

Everybody knew that modeling was a cruel line of work, your father told you so ever since you were just a little boy prancing around your bedroom.

Most male models didn’t last more than a month in the industry, you understood exactly why once you started putting yourself out there. Applying to all the big name brand you could never dream to be taken in by but you wanted to atleast try!

Here you were, halfway across the U.S trying to pursue your own little American dream and how else would you do that if not by working in some rundown diner by your apartment. Well that was until you met Him, tall and undoubtedly handsome with black hair having grey streaks through the sides with a small little beard of mostly white hairs, his name hung infamous to anybody who ever wanted to be a somebody, Dean Carter was his name.

You didn’t know him too well, just a local man who liked the diner you worked at for some reason you always thought. But he’d smile at you a little too long or tip you a little too much with his age showing at every glance he handed you. Creases in the corners of his eyes and lips crinkling up in delight when he watched how your hips swayed in your apron working the floor having him in awe. He had to have you—he absolutely needed you.

He’d simply slip you his business card just trying to swoon you under his wing like any big dreaming boy, whispering honeyed promises of fame and being a star on the runway to you anytime you would doubt him. Your fate was sealed the moment he wanted you, he was a man of greed and power and he wanted you in his pocket like a caged bird.

Here you were, eight months later from meeting dean, a photo shoot just being finished by you but you were far from happy. How could you possibly be happy when all you were seen as was the pretty boy who slept his way to fame, and the worst part of it all was the fact they weren’t wrong and all you could do is sit in your designated seat in your dressing room feeling the cold hand clasping your cheek “don’t listen to them baby, you’re just so much more than a pretty face and you know it”

Dean leans down kneeling on his knees with his chin resting on your shoulder blade holding your chin making you look at the mirror straight ahead of you. “Sh-sh doll don’t pout, you’ll ruin your makeup” his lips press to the back of your ear as his hands grip the sides of your seat turning you facing him.

“Not right now dean..” you whimper out silently feeling the hotness in your eyes bubbling up with tears that threaten to peak. “Don’t be that way baby doll, let me make it all better, you know I just wanna help” his voice softens so much your heart wants to believe it’s all real but atlas, you knew so better and yet you still fell.

“Not tonight dean, I don’t feel like it” you sniffle put rubbing your face feeling your warm cheeks under your palms while his hands slip down massaging your thighs in the slacks you were modeling. His thumbs tracing up slowly to your zipper giving it a little tug, you already knew what he was getting at and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him.

“Hush darlin, it’ll all feel alright so soon” a elicit purr fell from his thin lips when he stops after opening up the top of your pants leaving them hanging up on your hips, his hands slipping up to your hip bone and grabbing it gently lifting you up out of the chair and getting you on the counter of your dressing room while his hands guide your thighs apart.

“People will hear us dean” you hush out and tilt your head back looking upwards at him trying your hardest to not let your emotions win tonight. “Well then they’d be lucky, you’re my little show-boy aren’t you [name]? Always strutting down that runway”

Dean’s hands slide up your sides gripping your boxers and the waistband of your bottoms and slid them off down your thighs with ease leaving you in your white socks and the designer shirt, having not made it to putting on the shoes yet.

“O-h shit—“ you go slack in the face with your jaw hanging pinching your brows together when his face shoves between your thighs and nuzzles his way between your cheeks having you spread wide arching your back and holding the marble counter top.

“Taste’s so sweet doll, like sugar on mh tongue” his voice deepens rolling his own eyes back into his skull leaving red irritation marks on your ass cheeks from his stubble while he groans against your hole before lapping his tongue out from his mouth giving a long lick going down your crack leaving your balls neglected while your cock stands half hard.

“Dean, they’re gonna hear us~” you can’t help anymore, you slowly crumble on the counter, reaching your hands back and placing them over your mouth trying to hide how you were crying like a little boy and leaning back against the dressing room mirror internally praying that none of the brand executives made it to your room to see you in all your glory hitching your leg up on the older males shoulder and letting him devour you like a helpless lamb.

Deans tongue presses flat to your rim and keeps rubbing against it before his lips press against your hole sucking at it and gripping your thighs tighter looking up at you the whole time wanting to kiss away your tears.

“My baby boy is such a pretty cryer” he hums in a sickeningly sweet tone coating your rim in a glossy layer of his spit making heat build inside your stomach leaving your cock now fully erect pressing it’s way to your belly button.

“I’m not gonna- I can’t handle it!” A sharp gasp falls from your lips feeling like you’re being torn apart by the man between your thighs. His fingers moving off your thighs only leaving his right hand on your knee trying to keep your thighs from fully closing around his hand while he takes his fingers and snakes his way between your cheeks, letting us index finger prod open the walls whilst he keeps flicking his tongue in sync to his fingers.

“You wanna be a star right doll? Let me make you the brightest one” the movement doesn’t slow or waver leaving your lips trembling against your palm understanding his inward promise, the one he’s told you a thousand times over.

“Close dean” you sloppily slur and cry out feeling your hand slipping from hour mouth when his finger works its way against your prostate having the world around you turn white in a buzz and your cock glaze over with a pearl of semen leaking down the sides of your base making your body clamp up ready for the wave of release to wash over you only to have him pull away from your ass leaving your leg sliding off his shoulder when he stands back up.

“I want you to reach your orgasm from my cock, not my mouth baby doll” his words wash over you when he wipes his hands off and starts undoing his belt leaving his slacks undone while he opens up his fly, the grey waistband reading ‘Calvin Klein’ exposes itself to you before he pulls out his cock showing him already stiff from eating you out.

“Look at the mess you made baby, you’ve got my face utterly filthy” stepping between your thighs keeping them spread open while he presses his face into the side of your neck with your legs slowly lifting up to his hips, “the staff will hear us, I don’t want them to know dean” your hand finds its way into his hair and pulls at it, not even bothering to hide the hot tears streaming down your face.

He reaches his hand off your hip, still holding it tight with his other hand while he holds your chin firm and lifts his head from the crook of your neck pressing hot kisses to your damp cheeks. Dean’s cock presses its way between your slick cheeks letting his cock-head rub and make contact with your rim almost daring to push inside you but not doing so yet.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ve got’cha” his words linger muffled and half audible between his lust filled haze and the wet kisses he left across your skin. Your thighs stay parted up on his hips with your eyes looking up at him feeling humiliated in ways beyond words, unable to stare in the mirror behind you, unable to face what you’ve let him break you into.

“Just push in dean” your sniffles fall on deaf ears but he just smiles down at you and takes his lips off your cheeks placing them on your neck while letting your chin out of his clasp making your ruined face fall forwards on his shoulder when he slips his hands back to your hips guiding you down on his cock. “That’s a good boy, my sweet little angel” he talks you through it making your rim ease up when he sinks into you leaving you feeling every vein of his shaft when it pierces you.

“Sh-sh-sh don’t cry, baby. If you stay nice and quiet I’m sure they won’t hear” his words do very little in terms of easing you. Your neck tilts back looking up at the ceiling and staring through blurred leans as you reach your hands off the counter edges and dig your nails into the back of his tailored suit, leaving lighter colored marks on the fabric while the sound of hushed moans and skin filled up the dressing room.

Dean continued to roll his hips and make out with your neck, butting and sucking on every inch moaning into the skin, not bothering to stop your tears “you’re so pretty when you cry like that Y’know angel”

his voice was far to sweet for the ways he was ravaging your body. His cock pressed up against your prostate with every deep stroke he gave, your cock weeped against your stomach the whole time he held your hips flush against him while working between your legs, making sure his cock rubbed and violated every inch of your cavern.

Dean held your hips tight, softly massaging them and rutting his hips fucking you up against the counter with his canines dragging alongside of your neck so soft you felt like you were on cloud nine and yet you wanted to puke. You’ve never felt so beautiful yet so dirty until you were with him.

You finally look down from the ceiling with a sharp gasp “o-oh Dean-“ your eyes zoom out until they see the dressing room door peaking open, then it’s like bells and gears in your head start churning with your toes curled close to cumming. “Don’t even pay attention to it doll” Dean smooths you or at least he try’s to sooth you but fails, you just shove your face into his shoulder moaning and wailing to yourself when you realize there’s someone entering the room.

“Are you almost ready [nam—“ low and behold the door opened wide standing in the doorway was one of the stage managers for your upcoming shoot today, he stood jaw slacked the clipboard nearly falling from his hand staring at you watching how Dean didn’t bother stopping making the tears flow faster when you look up from dean’s shoulder having your eyes meet.

“Scram, boy. [name] is busy right now” Dean’s voice hardens tilting his head back out of your neck with drool smeared on his chin from a the kissing he was doing to your neck. He doesn’t bother to stop your coupling session but instead shoo’s off the other man. Oliver the stage manager scrambles to leave quickly, not wanting to be in the middle of the situation any longer but you knew him.

You knew within ten minutes the whole brand- better yet label. Would know your secret and that alone made your face go red with shame. “I’m close~ let-me come please?” You plead with Dean knowing that you needed your high, you needed the adrenaline that brought you to heaven before throwing yourself back down to sadness like always.

“Come for me darlin, just let go” Dean croons to you holding you up on the counter steadily thrusting into you already starting to leak more pre cum inside you. Your dressing room door still open wide leaving anyone able to see you being ruined by your manager if they just walked down the hall. Your cock starts to spasm and bob upwards jerking on its own about to cum as your legs wrap tighter around his hips, gripping his back and curling your toes tight arching.

Your walls clamped tight around his manhood when you finally hit your peak feeling rope after rope speed from the pudgy cock head when you orgasm. Dean pulls out of you and comes all over your thighs, holding you tight and panting when his cock throbs and releases its load all over your thighs in a thin and runny mess while you sit panting and truth to wipe away your tears before you can even look back at Dean.

“You did great, so great doll” he murmurs his words leaning down kissing your cheek and wiping your eyes leaving you sitting on your dressing room counter all splayed and ruined with cum coating your skin and runny mascara flowing down your cheeks as you watch Dean remove his hands off you and start fixing up his pants, wiping his cock off before putting it back inside his own boxers.

“I’m sorry I have to run honey, I need to straighten things out and I have an appointment with the magazine executives for your next shoot” with one last kiss on your cheek and an infatuatedly pleased smile when he looks down and sees your thighs coated in his cum, a small peck is forced on your lips before you watch him leave as he always did once he was finished.

Sitting alone in your dressing room, still up on the counter with the door now shut feeling the sadness wash over you from the after effects of your orgasm leaving your rubbing your eyes having to get up and get cleaned “I have to learn to stop crying, I swear” you whisper aloud to yourself walking around the dressing room just cleaning yourself off with a complementary rag and looking at your disheveled appearance in the mirror making you sight, after all how could you not? This same scene replayed day after day with Dean and you knew it would continue to.

[rafey-baby]

sweet treat 5

shy!reader really wants to tell construction worker!rafe how she feels but what if he doesn’t feel the same way?  

c/w: the L word, mostly fluff, her being an overthinker & getting a little jealous, pda, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.3k 

sooo this is the last part! (might write some extras but i make no promises) & just wanted to say how much i appreciate everyone who reads my stuff. the first part was my first piece of writing on this blog and i was overjoyed by the warm welcome and all the kind comments, asks & reblogs (nothing goes unnoticed by me!) so thank u so so much for being so lovely <33

series masterlist

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s been exactly two weeks since she came to terms with the fact that she’s in love with him.

She hasn’t been able to sleep all that well and has tried her very best to avoid Rafe, albeit fruitlessly since he insists on driving her home every day and on top of that, often invites himself over or asks her to stay the night at his— not accepting her excuses about being tired and having to wake up early.   

“Why don’t we jus’…be tired ‘n wake up early together then?” his grin is playful. And how is she meant to refuse that?  

And if everything he does wasn’t already suffocating her enough, he’s now helping with the renovation of the cafe since her boss wanted to expand the business; turn the small coffee shop into a bigger one in hopes of more space for new tables and seats, because the amount of clients they got was beginning to be too much for everyone to comfortably enjoy their stay. 

Therefore, she now has to work in the same building as him every single day because (unfortunately) the renovation work isn’t disturbing the current cafe from running nor decreasing the number of customers with a sweet tooth or a craving for their usual morning coffee.   

And none of this would be a problem, if Rafe wasn’t walking around all sweaty and dusty, biceps bulging whenever he’d lift wooden planks over his shoulder or carry around different equipment— looking as attractive as ever.

And with these newfound lovey-dovey feelings trying to break through the surface, she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to stop herself from ogling him or keep her rapid heartbeats to herself whenever he wanders over for a chat on his breaks. She tries to act as normal as she can, but she can tell that he’s starting to pick up on her excessive rambling and stuttering, flushed cheeks and anxious fingers fixing her hair every two seconds whenever he’s talking to her.  

In fact, she’s certain he can see right through her, knows that she’s hiding something. She can practically see how he wants to bring it up more often than not, but seemingly hasn’t found the right way to approach the subject yet, and she can sense that she’s running out of time— can’t tolerate lying to him for much longer.   

She’s been thinking this whole thing through over and over again, to the point of her head hurting while she bakes Rafe’s favorite lemon raspberry cookies as a distraction and because he’s been working so hard she wants to surprise him; see the soft smile that makes the whole world glitter whenever he graces her with it.  

And she wants to tell him, wants him to know how deeply she feels for him; how much she appreciates him but every time she tries to open her mouth, the words seem to evaporate before they’ve even begun to sprout on her nervous tongue.

Because what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if this is all just a casual thing for him and she’s making it into something more than it is? These bleak thoughts turn her mood sour— a pout forming on her lips as she concentrates on topping the flamingo pink icing with fresh blueberries, adding the final touches to their most popular vanilla cupcakes.

And as she’s taking Rafe’s cookies out the oven, she comes to the conclusion that she really only has two options; she either tells him or she doesn’t.

If she tells him, there’s a very high possibility that he looks at her with a crease between his brows and words about not wanting for this to be anything serious hitting her against the face. And if she doesn’t, then…well she doesn’t really have anything to lose, does she? Except maybe the what ifs haunting her for the rest of eternity.   

She tries to get rid of the tormenting thoughts with a shake of her head as she sets the cookies off to cool down, and begins to place the finished cupcakes onto the display counter, trying her hardest to just forget about it all.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - -  

Later that day, when Rafe is contently munching on the cookies she plated for him and happily distracting her from work, someone approaches the counter; a girl with glossy lips and shiny hair.   

“Hi! Could I please get a mango matcha latte?” her eyes are as green as grass as she places her order.  

“Of course, would you like it with ice or no ice?”   

“With ice, please.”

“Coming right up,” she gives the girl a polite smile when her payment goes through.   

“You’re working on the renovation?” the girl’s attention then turns towards Rafe, making Y/N’s gaze flicker over to them as she puts blended mango into the bottom of a tall glass.  

“Yeah, the cafe’s gon’ be twice as big as it’s now,” he drawls, putting the half-eaten baked good down.   

“That’s so cool. You know, I’ve always wondered how construction workers are so strong. Do you go to the gym a lot?” a saccharine voice reaches Y/N’s ears, making her brows furrow while she measures the right amount of matcha powder, trying to appear nonchalant.   

“Uh, yeah, yeah, also think m’workdays sometimes count as workouts,” he scratches the back of his head as she lets out a giggle. It wasn’t that funny, Y/N thinks with a roll of her eyes.   

“Hey, I was actually wondering if maybe you’d wanna hang out sometime? Could give you my number?”   

Something muddy swirls in her stomach in response to the girl’s straightforward question. She doesn’t particularly appreciate the fact that she’s blatantly hitting on Rafe right in front of her, even if she’s painfully aware that they’re not together and the girl probably assumed they were just friends, which they are.  

However, she can’t prevent herself from turning grumpy from the mere notion of him being interested in someone else. After all, the girl is stunning and she wouldn’t really blame him if he wanted to at least consider her offer.  

“Uh, m’actually not available right now,” he offers an apologetic smile when the girl’s shoulders slump.   

“No? That’s a shame. Well, let me know when that changes?” she gives him a flirty smile that makes Y/N quietly scoff as she pours the milk into the mix.  

“S’not changing anytime soon,” she mutters under her breath, making both of their heads turn towards her.   

Fuck, did she really say that out loud?  

“Sorry?” the girl asks, muted jade settling on her suddenly tense form.

“Oh, um— jus’ that…here’s your drink,” she peeps out in her state of embarrassment, feeling Rafe’s eyes burning into the side of her face as she sticks a paper straw into the beverage; the ice cubes clinking together when she hands it out to her.

“Right, thanks,” she says before looking over to Rafe once more, seemingly expecting him to give her an answer of his own.  

“Uh…yeah, what she said. Not changin’ anytime soon,” his grin is wide, making the girl’s cheeks flush.  

And when it’s just the two of them again, she flits her eyes down— busying herself with a wooden container of tea bags she’s trying to organize, unable to face him.  

“What was, uh…what was that about?” his tone is taunting, an annoying smirk playing on his features.  

“Nothing,” she quickly dismisses, avoiding his gaze.  

“Nothin’? You’re tellin’ me you weren’t just real fuckin’ jealous two seconds ago?”  

“N—no,” she can’t even convince herself with the pitiful denial.  

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, m’all yours, alright?” he chuckles as he stuffs the rest of the cookie into his mouth.  

“How did you know I jus’ was cravin’ these?” he asks around the mouthful as she tries to brush aside the sudden tingle in her ribcage.   

- - - - - - - - - - - - -  

A few days later, when her shift is coming to an end, her other coworker already beginning to take orders and telling her she’s free to go, she drags Rafe behind the counter and practically forces him to taste test a new recipe she’s tried out; a walnut carrot cake with lime buttercream. 

“Wow, this is…amazing. The sourness in the frosting is so good,” his voice is muffled by his chewing and her heart warms in response to his commentary, never one to shy away from showering her in compliments.  

“You think so? I actually added the lime jus’ cause I know how much you like citrus fruits so, m’really glad you like it,” she beams at him.  

“Yeah? Made this jus’ for me, huh? Can I ask why m’gettin’ this special treatment all of a sudden?” his tone is playful, tongue licking over his bottom lip to clean up the bit of icing lingering there.   

“Well, cause I love you and—” she blurts out before her entire body tenses; mouth hanging open in shock and wide eyes slowly moving to look at him, trying to verify whether he heard it or not. Of course he did. She wasn’t exactly quiet now, was she?   

“You…you love me?” he raises his brows in surprise.  

“Uh…I— I didn’t mean to…I mean, you probably don’t feel the same so doesn’t really matter. Just— um...jus’ forget I said that. I don’t know why I—”   

“What are you talkin’ about? You think I spend most of my time with you cause I…what? Dislike you? You can be so silly sometimes, you know?” he scoffs, setting the golden fork down on the porcelain plate.  

She stays silent. 

“What I’m sayin’ is that m’obsessed with you. I mean, you’re even in my fuckin’ dreams, right? But listen, love has always been a little, uh, tricky for me cause m’relationship with my family has always been, uh, complicated? But if me wantin’ to spend every second of my day with you means I love you too, then, shit, maybe I do. But I need some time before I can really say that shit, you get that?” his words are honest and raw and she thinks her rattling heart is going to beat out of her chest.  

“I— um…yeah, of course. Take all the time you need,” she finally manages out.  

“Hey, c’mere,” he says before he���s practically dragging her dumbfounded form into his embrace; — beefy arms pulling her flush against his chest.  

“I mean, we’re basically already datin’ at this point, no? Wasn’t sure how to make it official without freakin’ you out but since you love me, think you’re all good, yeah?” 

She mumbles something incoherent in response.  

“So wanna be my little girlfriend or what?” he murmurs into her hair.  

“I— of course I do,” she speaks against his shirt.   

“Yeah?”   

“Mhm,” she hums before he tucks an index finger under her chin and lifts her face to look up at him—his thumb toying with her bottom lip before he’s leaning down and smearing a sloppy kiss against her mouth.   

“Shit, you’re so adorable, jus’ wanna swallow you whole sometimes,” he murmurs with a soft smile tugging at his lips and eyes twinkling with something syrupy in them.   

“I love you,” she mumbles, almost inaudible; words still too tender to consciously say out loud.   

“Say it again,” he practically demands.  

“Um…I love you,” her voice is nearly a whisper.  

“What was that? Think you can say it a little louder?” he teases.   

“Rafe, stop…you’re embarrassing me,” she whines, cheeks heating up.

“No, m’not. Jus’ wanna hear you say it,” his smirk is all big and smug and it makes her huff.  

“ILOVEYOU, okay?” the words mesh together like fluffy clouds in the sky and her volume is louder than he’s probably ever heard it, causing a couple of curious heads to turn and the lively chatter around them to quiet down some.   

“Yeah? You guys heard that? She LOVES me,” he’s nearly shouting, looking around with a stupid grin on his face— making her flush and hide behind her hands as a few customers cheerfully titter in entertainment.  

“Congrats, dude!” someone even yells.

“Oh my god, Rafe. Why would you do that?” her mortified eyes widen as she crouches down; trying to find shelter behind the pale-yellow counter. “M’never leaving my house again,” she complains with a glare.   

However, he doesn’t seem all that bothered by the whole thing, simply chuckling with dimples denting his cheeks— the light-hearted sound making her stomach flutter despite the humiliation crawling up her spine and making her want to vanish into the cracks on the floorboards.   

“Of course you are, m’your boyfriend now which means m’takin’ you out on a date tomorrow, yeah?” he lifts her up with a grip on her waist, pulling her flush against him while his fingertips slip underneath the hem of her shirt, smoothing over her bare stomach and making her let out a squeak.  

Then, he’s grasping her jaw in one hand and pressing his mouth on hers again— her protests withering away like a dead rose when he slips his tongue past the seam of her lips, dragging out an involuntary whimper from her, before she pulls away and hides her face in his chest when she feels multiple pairs of eyes staring at them.  

“Rafe, can we just go already?” she pleads, voice small before he’s guiding her out of the coffee shop; his hand resting on the small of her back and calming her down some. 

And despite the little scene he caused, she thinks she might just be the happiest girl on the island as he helps her climb into his truck with a honeyed kiss warming the apple of her cheek.

[pucksandpower]

Black Widow

Toto Wolff x black widow!Reader

Summary: Lewis Hamilton and George Russell are convinced you’re trying to kill their team principal, and, to be fair, you do have a trail of seven dead extremely wealthy husbands behind you … but it’s not what they think, you promise

The soft beep of medical equipment provides a rhythmic backdrop as you sit beside the ornate mahogany bed, your manicured fingers intertwined with those of your latest husband, Reginald Worthington III.

At 89 years old, Reggie, as you affectionately call him, is by far your oldest conquest yet. His wrinkled face, now gaunt from months of illness, still manages a weak smile as he gazes at you.

“My darling,” Reggie wheezes, his voice barely above a whisper, “I hope you know how much joy you’ve brought to these final months of mine.”

You lean in, your silky hair cascading over your shoulder as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Oh, Reggie. The pleasure has been all mine.”

It’s not entirely a lie. While you don’t love Reggie — or any of your previous husbands, for that matter — you’ve grown fond of the old codger. He’s certainly been the most amusing of your elderly spouses.

Reggie’s eyes twinkle with mischief, a ghost of the rakish playboy he must have been in his youth. “Now, now, my dear. We both know this has been a mutually beneficial arrangement. But I do hope I’ve provided some entertainment along the way.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “You’ve been a delight, darling. Truly.”

As if on cue, Reggie is seized by a coughing fit. You quickly grab a glass of water from the bedside table, helping him take small sips until the spasms subside. When he catches his breath, he fixes you with a serious look.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you. About the will.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your face carefully neutral. “Reggie, please. We don’t need to discuss such morbid topics.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. We both know why you’re here, and it’s not to admire the wallpaper. Now listen, because this is important.”

You lean in closer, curiosity piqued despite yourself.

Reggie’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “In addition to the usual — the houses, the cars, the offshore accounts — I’m leaving you my stake in the Mercedes Formula 1 team.”

Your eyes widen in genuine surprise. “The racing team? Reggie, I had no idea you were involved with-”

He cuts you off with a wheezy laugh. “Oh, my dear. There’s so much you don’t know about me. Did you think I made my fortune selling denture cream?”

You can’t help but smile. “Well, I did wonder about all those trophies in your study.”

“Remnants of a misspent youth,” Reggie says with a wistful sigh. “But this, this is my crowning achievement. A 33% stake in one of the most successful F1 teams in history.”

Your mind reels at the implications. This is far beyond anything you’d anticipated when you’d set your sights on Reginald Worthington III.

“Reggie, I ... I don’t know what to say.”

He pats your hand affectionately. “You don’t have to say anything, my dear. Just promise me you’ll make the most of it. I’ve always admired your ambition. It reminds me of myself at your age.”

You lean back in your chair, studying the old man before you. In that moment, you feel a surge of genuine affection for him.

“I promise, Reggie. I’ll make you proud.”

He nods, satisfied. “Good. Now, tell me about the others. I want to know how I measure up to my predecessors.”

You laugh, shaking your head in amazement. “Are you sure? It’s quite a list.”

Reggie’s eyes sparkle with interest. “My dear, I’m on my deathbed. Regale me with tales of your conquests.”

With a theatrical sigh, you begin. “Well, if you insist. Let’s see ... first, there was Harold.”

“Ah, the virgin husband,” Reggie interrupts with a knowing nod.

You raise an eyebrow. “And how did you know that?”

He winks. “I have my sources. Go on.”

“Right. Well, Harold was a sweet man. A bit naive, perhaps, but genuinely kind. He left me his tech startup. It wasn’t worth much at the time, but I sold it for a tidy sum a year later.”

Reggie nods approvingly. “Smart move. Who was next?”

“After Harold came George. He was ... intense. A retired army general with a penchant for war stories and expensive scotch. Left me his collection of rare military memorabilia.”

“Fascinating,” Reggie murmurs. “And the others?”

You tick them off on your fingers. “Let’s see ... there was Joaquin, the passionate Spanish chef. He left me his Michelin-starred restaurants. Then came Dmitri, the Russian oligarch. That was ... an experience.”

Reggie chuckles. “I bet it was. What did he leave you?”

“A series of shell companies and a rather gaudy yacht. I sold the yacht, kept the companies.” You pause, lost in thought for a moment. “After Dmitri was William, the British lord. Lovely man, terrible teeth. Left me his crumbling estate and title.”

“So you’re technically a lady now?” Reggie asks, amused.

You nod. “Lady Y/N, at your service. Though I don’t use the title much. It tends to raise questions.”

“Understandable. And the last one before me?”

Your expression softens slightly. “Ah, that was Hiroshi. Japanese tech mogul. Brilliant mind, but so lonely. I think I was the first real companionship he’d had in years.”

Reggie studies you carefully. “You were fond of him.”

You nod, a bit surprised by the lump in your throat. “I was. He ... he understood me, I think. More than the others.”

There’s a moment of silence as Reggie processes this information. Finally, he speaks. “And what did Hiroshi leave you?”

You smile wryly. “His AI research company. It’s been ... interesting, to say the least.”

Reggie nods slowly. “Quite a collection you’ve amassed, my dear. But tell me, what drives you? Surely it’s not just the money.”

You’re taken aback by the question. No one has ever asked you that before. You take a moment to gather your thoughts.

“I suppose ... it’s the challenge of it all. The thrill of reinventing myself with each new husband, of navigating these complex worlds they inhabit. And yes, the wealth is nice, but it’s more about what I can do with it.”

Reggie leans forward, intrigued. “And what is it you want to do?”

You pause, realizing you’ve never really articulated this to anyone before. “I want to make a difference. Real, lasting change. These men, they’ve all built empires in their own ways, but they’ve been limited by their own mortality. I don’t have those limitations yet. I can take what they’ve given me and create something ... more.”

Reggie’s eyes light up with understanding. “Ah, now I see why I was drawn to you. You’re not just a pretty face or a clever mind. You’re a visionary.”

You feel a flush of pride at his words. “I try to be. Each husband has taught me something new, given me tools I never had before. Harold showed me the potential of technology. George taught me strategy. Joaquin, the importance of passion in one’s work. Dmitri, how to navigate the murky waters of international business. William gave me a glimpse into old-world power structures. And Hiroshi ... well, he opened my eyes to the future.”

Reggie nods slowly. “And what have I taught you, I wonder?”

You smile softly. “Patience, Reggie. The long game. And the value of a good sense of humor in the face of adversity.”

He chuckles weakly. “Well, I’m glad I could contribute something to your education. Now, about this F1 team ...”

You lean in, eager to hear more. “Yes?”

“It’s more than just a racing team, you know. It’s a pinnacle of engineering, a testament to human ingenuity and the constant push for improvement. I think you’ll find it fits quite well with your ambitions.”

You nod slowly, mind already racing with possibilities. “I can see that. The technology, the global platform, the prestige ...”

Reggie grins. “Exactly. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find husband number eight in the paddock.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, Reggie. Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?”

He winks. “Someone has to. Now, promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” you say, and you’re surprised to find you mean it.

“When you’re accepting that championship trophy — because I know you will — wear something fabulous. Give those stuffy old men in the paddock something to talk about.”

You can’t help but grin. “Oh, don’t worry. I intend to shake things up a bit.”

Reggie nods approvingly. “That’s my girl. Now, I think I need to rest for a bit. But don’t go far. I want to hear all about your plans for world domination when I wake up.”

As you watch Reggie drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Sadness at the impending loss of this charming old rogue, excitement at the unexpected opportunity he’s given you, and a renewed sense of purpose.

You glance at your reflection in the ornate mirror across the room. Lady Y/N Y/L/N, soon-to-be racing magnate. It has a nice ring to it.

As you settle back into your chair, you begin to plan your next moves. The motorsport world won’t know what hit it.

***

The sleek boardroom of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team headquarters buzzes with hushed conversation. Around the polished mahogany table, team executives and board members huddle in small groups, their voices low and urgent.

Toto catches snippets of conversation as he reviews his notes for the meeting.

“Did you hear? She’s actually coming today,” whispers Bradley, the team’s financial officer.

Sarah, head of marketing, leans in. “I can’t believe Reginald left her his stake. What was he thinking?”

“Probably wasn’t thinking with his head, if you know what I mean,” chuckles Thomas, the technical director.

Toto clears his throat, silencing the gossip. “Let’s keep things professional, shall we? We have important matters to discuss today.”

As if on cue, the boardroom door swings open. The room falls into an immediate, almost eerie silence as you stride in, turning heads with every click of your Manolo Blahnik heels against the polished floor.

Toto finds himself holding his breath, caught off guard by your presence. He’s seen photos, of course, but they didn’t do you justice. Your tailored Armani suit exudes power and confidence, while your eyes scan the room with a shrewd intelligence that sends a shiver down his spine.

You take your seat at the far end of the table, directly opposite Toto. “Good morning, everyone. I hope I’m not late.”

Your voice, smooth as silk with a hint of amusement, breaks the spell. The room erupts into a flurry of awkward greetings and nervous coughs.

Toto clears his throat again, trying to regain control of the situation. “Not at all. We were just about to begin. Welcome, Lady Worthington. We’re honored to have you join us today.”

You smile, a dazzling display that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Please, call me Y/N. We’re all colleagues here, after all.”

Toto nods, fighting to keep his composure. “Of course, Y/N. Shall we begin with the agenda?”

As the meeting progresses, Toto finds himself increasingly distracted. He’s used to being the most commanding presence in any room, but your arrival has shifted the dynamic entirely. Every time you speak, offering insights or asking pointed questions, the rest of the board seems to hold its breath.

“I’ve been reviewing our sustainability initiatives,” you say during a lull in the conversation. “While I applaud our efforts so far, I believe we could be doing more. Formula 1 has an unique platform to drive innovation in green technologies. We should be leading the charge, not just following along.”

Bradley shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “With all due respect, Lady- I mean, Y/N, implementing new sustainability measures could be quite costly. We need to consider the bottom line.”

You lean forward, fixing Bradley with an intense gaze. “And what about the cost of falling behind? Of being seen as out of touch with the concerns of younger fans? Sometimes, you have to spend money to make money.”

Toto finds himself nodding in agreement before he even realizes it. “Y/N raises an excellent point. Perhaps we should form a task force to explore more aggressive sustainability options.”

You flash him a grateful smile, and Toto feels his heart skip a beat. He quickly looks down at his notes, trying to regain his composure.

As the meeting continues, you consistently challenge the status quo, pushing for bolder strategies and innovative approaches. Toto watches in fascination as you deftly navigate the complex dynamics of the board, alternating between charm and steel as the situation demands.

During a discussion about driver development, you interject again. “I’ve been looking into our junior driver program, and I think we’re missing opportunities. We’re too focused on traditional racing backgrounds. What about sim racers? Or scouting karters from developing countries? We could be tapping into a whole new pool of talent.”

Sarah, the marketing head, perks up at this. “That’s ... actually a brilliant idea. It could really broaden our appeal, especially in emerging markets.”

You nod appreciatively. “Exactly. And imagine the stories we could tell. The sim racer who became an F1 champion or the kid from a small village who rose to the top of motorsport. That’s the kind of narrative that builds brand loyalty and inspires the next generation of fans.”

Toto finds himself leaning forward, completely engrossed. “I love this direction. Y/N, would you be willing to work with Sarah to develop a proposal for expanding our driver search?”

“Of course,” you reply with a smile that makes Toto’s pulse quicken. “I’d be delighted.”

As the meeting winds down, Toto realizes that the entire dynamic of the board has shifted. The initial wariness towards you has given way to a mixture of respect and curiosity. Even those who seemed most skeptical at the start are now hanging on your every word.

“Well,” Toto says, glancing at his watch, “I think that concludes our agenda for today. Unless anyone has any other matters to discuss?”

The room is silent for a moment before you speak up. “Actually, if I may, I’d like to address the elephant in the room.”

A tense hush falls over the gathering. Toto holds his breath, unsure of what’s coming next.

You stand, your posture relaxed but commanding. “I’m aware of the rumors and speculation surrounding my ... personal life. I want to assure all of you that my presence here is purely professional. I’m not here to cause drama or upheaval. I’m here because I believe in the potential of this team and this sport. I hope that over time, you’ll come to judge me based on my contributions, not on gossip or hearsay.”

The sincerity in your voice is palpable, and Toto can see the effect it has on the room. Shoulders relax, expressions soften. There’s a collective exhale, as if a weight has been lifted.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Toto says, standing as well. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we look forward to working with you and seeing what fresh perspectives you can bring to the team.”

There’s a murmur of agreement around the table. As the meeting officially adjourns, people begin to gather their things and file out of the room. Toto notices that several board members linger, clearly hoping to have a word with you. He feels an unexpected twinge of jealousy.

Before he can second-guess himself, Toto makes his way around the table to where you’re chatting with Sarah about the junior driver program idea.

“Excuse me,” he says, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. “Y/N, I was wondering if I could have a word?”

You turn to him with a smile that makes his heart race. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

He takes a deep breath, acutely aware of the curious glances from the remaining board members. “I was impressed by your insights today. I think there’s a lot we could discuss further about the future direction of the team. Would you perhaps be interested in continuing this conversation over dinner?”

A hush falls over the remaining occupants of the room. Toto can practically feel the weight of their stares, but he keeps his eyes fixed on you.

You raise an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement playing across your features. “Dinner? My, my, Toto. Aren’t you afraid of me? I do have quite the reputation, you know.”

There’s a challenge in your voice, but also a hint of vulnerability that catches Toto off guard. He realizes that beneath your confident exterior, you’re testing him, gauging his true intentions.

Toto meets your gaze steadily, his voice low but firm. “I don’t put much stock in rumors. I prefer to form my own opinions based on what I see and experience. And what I’ve seen today is a brilliant, passionate individual who could be a tremendous asset to this team. That’s the person I’m interested in getting to know better.”

The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for your response. You study Toto for a long moment, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a genuine smile spreads across your face.

“Well, in that case, I’d be delighted to have dinner with you. Shall we say eight o’clock?”

Toto feels a rush of relief and excitement. “Eight o’clock sounds perfect. I know just the place.”

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, Toto can’t help but feel like he’s standing on the precipice of something monumental. He’s built his career on calculated risks, on seeing potential where others see danger. Looking at you, he knows that this might be the biggest gamble of his life.

But as you turn to give him one last smile before exiting the boardroom, Toto is certain of one thing: it’s a risk he’s more than willing to take.

***

The Monaco Grand Prix paddock buzzes with excitement, a hive of activity as teams prepare for the most glamorous race on the Formula 1 calendar. Lewis Hamilton and George Russell huddle in a quiet corner of the Mercedes garage, their voices low and urgent.

“I’m telling you, mate, something’s not right,” George insists, his eyes darting around to ensure they’re not overheard. “Have you seen the way Toto’s been acting lately? It’s like he’s under some kind of spell.”

Lewis nods grimly, his usual pre-race focus replaced by concern. “I know what you mean. Ever since she came into the picture, it’s like he’s a different person. Always distracted, making decisions that don’t quite add up.”

“Exactly!” George exclaims, then quickly lowers his voice again. “And have you noticed how she’s always around now? At every meeting, every strategy session. It’s like she’s trying to learn all our secrets.”

Lewis furrows his brow, deep in thought. “You don’t think ... I mean, surely she wouldn’t actually try to ...”

“Kill him?” George finishes, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, mate. But look at her track record. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marrying her. And now she’s got her claws into Toto.”

As if summoned by their conversation, you appear at the entrance of the garage, Toto at your side. The team principal’s hand rests comfortably on the small of your back as he leads you through the bustling workspace.

Lewis and George fall silent, watching intently as you make your way towards them. Your designer sundress and oversized sunglasses scream understated elegance, but to the two drivers, you might as well be wearing a black widow’s web.

“Good morning,” Toto calls out cheerfully. “Ready for qualifying?”

Lewis forces a smile, his eyes never leaving you. “Morning, Toto. Yeah, we were just discussing strategy.”

You step forward, flashing a dazzling smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. I’m still learning all the intricacies of race weekends.”

George clears his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Not at all. We were just finishing up.”

Toto beams, looking from you to his drivers with pride. “Isn’t it wonderful having Y/N here? She’s already brought so many fresh ideas to the team. I don’t know how we managed without her.”

You laugh, a sound that sends chills down Lewis and George’s spines. “Oh, darling, you’re exaggerating. I’m sure these boys were doing just fine before I came along.”

As you speak, your hand reaches up to smooth Toto’s collar, a gesture that seems innocent enough but makes both drivers tense.

Lewis clears his throat. “Actually, Toto, could we have a quick word? About the, uh, tire strategy?”

Toto looks surprised but nods. “Of course. Y/N, would you mind giving us a moment?”

“Not at all,” you reply smoothly. “I’ll just go chat with the mechanics. I’m fascinated by all this technology.”

As you saunter away, Lewis and George exchange a meaningful glance. This is their chance.

“Toto,” Lewis begins, choosing his words carefully. “We’re a bit concerned. About you, actually.”

Toto’s brow furrows in confusion. “Concerned? What do you mean?”

George jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s just that ... well, things have been different since you started seeing her. And given her history ...”

“Her history?” Toto repeats, his voice taking on an edge. “What exactly are you implying?”

Lewis takes a deep breath. “Toto, we care about you. And we can’t help but notice that Y/N’s previous partners have all met with ... unfortunate ends.”

For a moment, Toto just stares at them, his expression unreadable. Then, to their surprise, he bursts out laughing.

“Oh, boys,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I appreciate your concern, truly. But I assure you, it’s misplaced. Y/N has been nothing but a positive influence on both me and the team.”

George persists, his voice urgent. “But Toto, you have to admit, the pattern is alarming. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marriage. And now she’s here, learning all about our team, our strategies ...”

Toto’s amusement fades, replaced by a stern look. “That’s enough. I understand you’re worried, but I won’t have you spreading baseless rumors. Y/N is here because she’s a part-owner of this team and because I invited her. End of discussion.”

As Toto walks away, Lewis and George share a look of dismay.

“He’s in too deep,” Lewis mutters. “We need to do something.”

George nods grimly. “We can’t let her hurt him. Or the team. We need a plan.”

Throughout the day, as qualifying unfolds, Lewis and George find themselves constantly distracted. Every time they catch a glimpse of you in the garage or on the pit wall, their imaginations run wild.

During a brief break between sessions, they overhear a snippet of conversation between you and one of the engineers.

“So, if something were to go wrong with the car during the race,” you’re saying, “what would be the most catastrophic point of failure?”

The engineer launches into a detailed explanation of various mechanical vulnerabilities, unaware of the horrified looks on the drivers’ faces.

“She’s gathering intel,” George whispers to Lewis. “Probably planning some sort of accident for Toto.”

Lewis nods, his jaw set with determination. “We need to warn him again. Make him see reason.”

But their attempts to get Toto alone prove futile. You seem to be constantly by his side, your hand on his arm, whispering in his ear. To an outsider, it might look like the actions of a loving girlfriend, but to Lewis and George, every gesture seems calculated and sinister.

As the day wears on, their paranoia grows. They start seeing threats everywhere. When you hand Toto a bottle of water, they’re convinced it’s poisoned. When you suggest he take a look at something in the back of the garage, they’re sure you’re luring him away to do him harm.

Finally, as the sun begins to set over the Monaco harbor, they decide they can’t wait any longer. They need to confront you directly.

They find you alone in the hospitality area, reviewing some papers. As they approach, you look up with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Lewis, George,” you greet them warmly. “Excellent qualifying today. You must be pleased.”

Lewis takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Cut the act. We know what you’re up to.”

Your expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in your eyes. “I’m not sure I understand. What exactly am I up to?”

George steps forward, his voice low and intense. “We know about your husbands. All seven of them. And we’re not going to let you add Toto to that list.”

For a moment, you just stare at them, your face unreadable. Then, to their surprise, you burst out laughing.

“Oh,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “Is that what this is all about? You think I’m here to kill Toto?”

Lewis and George exchange confused glances, thrown off by your reaction.

You lean in, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let me tell you a little secret. Those men? They were all terminally ill when I married them. It was a business arrangement, pure and simple. They got to spend their last months with a young, beautiful wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play involved.”

The drivers stare at you, speechless. You continue, your tone becoming more serious.

“As for Toto, well, that’s different. For the first time in my life, I’ve found someone I genuinely care for. Someone who sees me for who I am, not just what I can offer. I’m not here to hurt him or the team. I’m here because I want to be part of something meaningful.”

Lewis and George exchange uncertain glances, their convictions shaken.

“But ... all the questions about the car, the team strategies ...” George begins.

You roll your eyes, a hint of amusement in your voice. “I’m a part-owner of this team now, remember? Of course I’m trying to learn everything I can. How else can I contribute?”

As the truth of your words sinks in, Lewis and George begin to feel a creeping sense of embarrassment. They’ve let their imaginations and preconceptions run wild, seeing threats where there were none.

“I ... we ...” Lewis stammers, struggling to find the right words.

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “It’s alright. I understand. My reputation precedes me, and you were just looking out for Toto. I can respect that.”

George rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “We may have gotten a bit carried away. I’m sorry.”

You smile, and this time it reaches your eyes. “Apology accepted. Now, what do you say we put this behind us and focus on winning tomorrow’s race?”

As if on cue, Toto appears, looking between the three of you with curiosity. “Everything alright here?”

You stand, moving to his side and slipping your arm through his. “Everything’s perfect, darling. In fact, I think Lewis and George were just about to share some ideas they had for the race strategy. Weren’t you, boys?”

Lewis and George nod, grateful for the out you’ve given them. As they launch into a discussion about tire management and overtaking opportunities, they can’t help but marvel at how wrong they’ve been.

Watching you interact with Toto, they see not a black widow spinning her web, but a woman genuinely in love, bringing out the best in their team principal. They realize that sometimes, people can surprise you. And sometimes, the most unexpected additions to a team can be the most valuable.

***

The soft glow of chandeliers bathes the exclusive Monégasque restaurant in warm light, casting elegant shadows across the faces of Monaco’s elite. Grigori Volkov, a grizzled veteran of the Russian underworld, sips his vodka, his weathered face a mask of careful neutrality as he surveys the room.

His eyes narrow as they land on a familiar figure across the crowded dining area. It can’t be, he thinks, leaning forward for a better look. But there’s no mistaking that face, those eyes that have haunted his dreams and nightmares for years.

You.

Grigori watches as you laugh, your hand resting lightly on the arm of a tall, distinguished-looking man. He recognizes him vaguely. But what catches Grigori off guard is the easy intimacy between you, the matching wedding bands glinting in the low light.

For a moment, Grigori considers slipping out unnoticed. But curiosity gets the better of him. He signals the waiter, ordering another round of drinks to be sent to your table.

As the waiter approaches with the drinks, Grigori sees your posture stiffen slightly, your eyes scanning the room until they lock onto his. He raises his glass in a small salute, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You lean in, whispering something to Toto. The man looks surprised but nods, and together you make your way towards Grigori’s table.

“Grigori,” you greet him, your voice a mix of warmth and wariness. “It’s been a long time.”

Grigori stands, bowing slightly. “Indeed it has, my dear. You’re looking well. And who might this be?”

Toto extends his hand, his grip firm. “Toto Wolff. And you are?”

“An old friend of your wife’s,” Grigori replies smoothly, noting the flicker of surprise in Toto’s eyes at the word ’wife’. “Grigori Volkov. I knew Y/N back in her Russian days.”

You gesture to the empty chairs. “May we join you?”

Grigori nods, waving expansively. “Please, be my guests.”

As you settle in, Grigori can’t help but study Toto more closely. He’s younger than expected, vital and alert. Not at all what he’d imagined for your latest conquest.

“So, Toto,” Grigori begins, his accent thick with amusement, “how long have you and our dear Y/N been married?”

Toto smiles, his hand finding yours on the table. “Just over two years now. Best decision I ever made.”

Grigori’s eyebrows shoot up. “Two years? My, my. That’s quite impressive.”

You shoot him a warning look, but Toto just looks confused. “I’m not sure I follow. Why is that impressive?”

Grigori chuckles, taking a long sip of his vodka. “Oh, forgive me. I just meant that Y/N here has always been something of a ... how do you say ... free spirit? Never one to be tied down for long.”

You interject quickly, “People change, Grigori. I’ve found what I was looking for.”

Grigori nods, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Indeed they do. And what of your ... other interests? The ones you inherited from dear Dmitri?”

Toto’s brow furrows. “Dmitri? I’m afraid I don’t know much about Y/N’s ex-husbands.”

“Ex-husbands?” Grigori repeats, feigning surprise. “Oh, but Dmitri was special, wasn’t he? After all, not every day one inherits a slice of the Bratva.”

The color drains from Toto’s face as he turns to you. “The Bratva? As in, the Russian mob?”

You sigh, shooting Grigori a glare that could freeze vodka. “It’s complicated, darling. And very much in the past.”

Grigori leans back, thoroughly enjoying the drama unfolding before him. “Oh, come now, Y/N. Surely your husband deserves to know the truth? About your colorful past, your string of deceased husbands, your unexpected rise to power in certain ... shall we say, unofficial circles?”

Toto looks between you and Grigori, his expression a mix of confusion and growing concern. “Y/N, what is he talking about?”

You take a deep breath, squeezing Toto’s hand. “Toto, there are parts of my past I haven’t told you about. Not because I wanted to keep secrets, but because I wanted to leave that life behind.”

Grigori interjects, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Oh, but my dear, can one ever truly leave such a life behind? Especially when one has risen to such ... prominent positions?”

Toto’s eyes narrow as he looks at Grigori. “And what exactly is your role in all this?”

Grigori smiles, all teeth and no warmth. “Let’s just say I’m an old associate of Dmitri’s. And by extension, of Y/N’s. Though I must admit, I’m surprised to see you still among the living, Mr. Wolff. Our dear Y/N has quite a reputation, you know.”

You slam your hand on the table, your voice low and dangerous. “Enough, Grigori. That’s not who I am anymore.”

Grigori holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course. I meant no offense. I’m merely ... surprised. After all, your previous husbands weren’t quite so fortunate. Or so young and vigorous.”

Toto’s jaw clenches, his eyes darting between you and Grigori. “I think it’s time we left.”

As you stand to leave, Grigori calls out, “Oh, but we’ve only just begun to catch up. There’s so much your husband doesn’t know, Y/N. About the power you wield, the empire you inherited. Don’t you think he deserves to know the truth about the woman he married?”

You turn back, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something deeper, more dangerous. “The truth, Grigori, is that I left that life behind. I found something real, something worth living for. And if you or anyone else tries to drag me back into that world, you’ll regret it.”

Grigori leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is that a threat, my dear?”

You smile, cold and sharp. “Consider it a friendly warning. From one old friend to another.”

As you and Toto walk away, Grigori can’t help but feel a shiver run down his spine. He’d forgotten, in the years since you’d left Russia, just how formidable you could be.

He watches as you and Toto have an intense, whispered conversation by the exit. To his surprise, instead of storming out, Toto nods, takes your hand, and leads you back to Grigori’s table.

“Mr. Volkov,” Toto says, his voice steady and controlled, “I think it’s time we had an honest conversation. About Y/N’s past, about your ... association, and about how we move forward from here.”

Grigori raises an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. “Well, well. It seems you’ve found yourself a man with a spine, Y/N. Very well, let’s talk.”

As the three of you settle back into your seats, Grigori can’t help but feel a grudging respect for Toto. Most men would have run for the hills by now, but here he is, ready to face the truth head-on.

“So,” Grigori begins, pouring fresh vodka for all of you, “where shall we start? With Dmitri? With the Bratva? Or perhaps with the mysterious deaths of Y/N’s previous husbands?”

Toto takes a sip of vodka, his eyes never leaving Grigori’s. “Let’s start with the truth. All of it.”

You sigh, your hand finding Toto’s under the table. “Alright. Dmitri was my fifth husband. He was a high-ranking member of the Bratva, and when he died, I inherited his position and his connections.”

Grigori nods approvingly. “She’s being modest. Y/N didn’t just inherit Dmitri’s position — she expanded it. Forged new alliances, eliminated rivals. She became a force to be reckoned with in our world.”

Toto looks at you, his expression unreadable. “And the other husbands?”

You meet his gaze steadily. “They were all older men, all terminally ill. It was a business arrangement. They got to spend their last months with a young wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play, I swear.”

Grigori chuckles. “Oh, come now. There were rumors, whispers of poison, of accidents arranged just so ...”

You whirl on him, your eyes flashing. “Rumors started by people like you. People who couldn’t believe a woman could gain power without resorting to murder.”

Toto squeezes your hand, his voice gentle. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

You turn back to him, your expression softening. “Because I wanted to leave it all behind. When I met you, I saw a chance at a real life, a real relationship. I didn’t want my past to taint that.”

Grigori watches this exchange with growing fascination. He’s never seen you like this — vulnerable, open, genuinely in love. It’s... unsettling.

“And now?” He asks, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice. “What becomes of your empire, Y/N? Your power? Your connections?”

You straighten, your voice firm. “I’ve been systematically dismantling it all. Using the resources to fund legitimate businesses, charitable foundations. I’m out. For good.”

Grigori leans back, genuinely surprised. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re really walking away from it all.”

Toto speaks up, his voice steady. “We’re building something new together. Something honest, something we can be proud of.”

Grigori studies them both for a long moment, then throws back the last of his vodka. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’ve actually done it. You’ve found a way out.”

You nod, a small smile playing at your lips. “I have. And I’d appreciate it if you’d spread the word. Y/N Wolff is retired. Permanently.”

Grigori stands, straightening his jacket. “Consider it done, my dear. But know this — there will always be those who remember who you were, what you were capable of. Be careful.”

As he turns to leave, Toto calls out, “Mr. Volkov?”

Grigori pauses, looking back. “Yes?”

Toto’s voice is calm, but there’s steel beneath the surface. “If anyone from Y/N’s past tries to cause trouble for us, they’ll have to deal with me. And I assure you, I can be just as formidable as my wife when necessary.”

Grigori studies Toto for a moment, then breaks into a broad grin. “I believe you, Mr. Wolff. I really do. Take care of her, won’t you? She’s one of a kind.”

As Grigori walks away, he can’t help but shake his head in amazement. You, the Black Widow of the Bratva, settled down and in love. Will wonders never cease?

He glances back one last time to see you and Toto deep in conversation, your hands intertwined on the table. There’s an openness to your expression that he’s never seen before, a vulnerability that speaks volumes.

For the first time in years, Grigori feels a twinge of envy. Not for your power or your wealth, but for the genuine connection you seem to have found. As he steps out into the cool Monaco night, he wonders if perhaps it’s time for him to consider a change of his own.

After all, if the infamous Y/N can find redemption and true love, maybe there’s hope for an old dog like him yet.

[ja3yun]

The Sun that Always Burns | S.JY

chapter 1: beginnings

sim jaeyun x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), multiple sex scenes, protected sex, first times, oral (m&f. rec), fingering, throat fucking, angst, fluff, arguments and reconciliation,mentions of alcohol, they are tooth-rottingly in love with one another, pet names (baby, princess), strangers to lovers, anything else lmk! w.c: 29k synopsis: the day you met sim jaeyun was the beginning of your life truly starting. you share everything together, first date, first time, first fight, first love. you couldn't be happier....for now. a/n: hi! if you have ever read tstab then this will look very different from the first time, though, the plot remains almost identical to what it was before. thank you for all the support! i promise this is the longest chapter and the others will be significalty less so i hope the 29k doesn't put you guys off! also, i will warn you now, this series does have some morally-grey choices woven in and ynjake are not saints in any way so please bare that in mind when reading the upcoming chapters! as always, comments, feedback, and reblogs are all welcome <33

masterlist | chapter 2

The first time you meet Sim Jaeyun is on the number 18 bus, headed to your first day of high school. It’s August, the sun blazing in a cloudless sky. Little did you know that the brightest light wasn’t emanating from the burning star. 

The bus is busy, students new and old gracing the seats and aisles, and a sea of navy blue and black floods your vision. Then you spot it, a tiny seat at the back gone unnoticed. As you push your way to the back of the bus ignoring the disgruntled travellers cursing under their breath at your intrusion, you take a seat and huff a breath, victory curving slightly on your lips. 

You are observant of your surroundings, it’s one of the many traits you got from your mum. Not so observant as first thought, however, as you miss the way a certain boy beside you eyes you up and down, smiling fondly as his hot gaze takes you in. As the bus pulls up to your new school, people flocked to the tall, almost rustic building. The stones are yellow ash, letters missing from the sign that sits slanted above the entrance doors, and there are cracks on the pavement from neglect. 

You begin to wonder if this is a foresight into your academic career. Out of all the schools in Seoul, why did your parents pick this one?

“I heard it’s haunted on the third floor, y’know,” a voice echoes behind you, pulling you out of your trance. Twisting your head, you come face to face with a pretty boy, and suddenly, the sun seems to get warmer. “Hi,” his hand raises slightly to give a small wave, his head tilting to accompany a Cheshire grin spread so wide you can’t help but mirror it back to him. 

"Hi," you murmur, your voice barely steady as nerves creep up on you once again, the smile that reflected his now faltering. It’s partly the boy’s disarming presence, partly the weight of his words sinking in. You glance back at the building, the air around it now eerily heavy. “Is it really haunted? Because if it is, I’m not going anywhere near it.”

He shrugs, his expression unreadable. “Rumour has it there’s a girl on the third floor in the girls’ bathroom. A fox scratched out her eyes, and no one helped her. Now she haunts the place, looking for revenge. If you see her reflection and make eye contact…” He pauses, letting the silence stretch as he leans into you. “She’ll take yours, too.”

You shudder, your stomach twisting with horror. “Nope. Nope, absolutely not.” You start to retreat to the bus stop, determined to get as far away from the school and the fox girl as possible. But before you can get too far, he stops you, his hands firm but not forceful as he turns you back to face the building. The sun beats down, and you feel its heat more intensely, though it might just be the proximity of him behind you. His chuckle, low and soft, brushes against your ears.

“If you can face this place for one day, you can handle it for the next few years. Yeah?”

You stare at the school and throw the pros and cons of his words in your hands. He’s right in some capacity; if you get through today and face your fears, perhaps then everything won’t seem so daunting. Plus, how will you ever explain to your parents that you didn’t bother going to school because of an old ledged that a stranger told you in passing? They would laugh and then drag you into the old building themselves.

With a little hesitation, you look at the boy for some reassurance - and there it is. His plump smile and warm, encouraging eyes do everything to settle the unease in your chest. He is so ethereal, with his tanned skin, thick nose, and bright eyes. You’ve never seen a boy look so…perfect. Even in a slightly creased navy polo and baggy beige trousers, he somehow looks like a teen heartthrob.

Catching yourself staring at him, you shake your head and inhale a deep breath to settle the remnants of your apprehensions. You can do this Y/N. Ghost or not. 

What you don’t realise is that the story isn’t even real. It’s something he has made up on the spot. He doesn’t know why but he just needed a reason to speak to you. There’s a glow about you, he saw it on the bus as you stared out the window in awe at the scenery. Once he clocked that you were standing transfixed with hesitation, he took his shot. 

Granted, there may have been a better way to grab your attention than telling you a story about an eye-scratching ghost, but it was the perfect excuse to get close to you. Next time, he’ll tell you a nice story about a friendly ghost in the first-floor bathroom who gifts sweeties and tampons upon arrival.

“Y/N,” you say quietly, introducing yourself and drawing him back to the present.

His eyes, warm and curious, meet yours. “Jaeyun. Or Jake, if you prefer.” He grins again, though this time a little more sheepishly, scratching his forearm. 

You finally take him in - his dark hair, slightly tousled; his thoughtful eyes; the way his lips curl into a subtle pout as the silence envelopes you both. He studies you just as intently, and for the first time, you feel truly seen.

That day, the sun wasn’t the only thing that warmed your cheeks.

As the day unfolds, you learn so much about him. He loves football with a passion that lights up his face. He’s so smart that it catches you off guard, and creative in ways that inspire you to try new things and find a light of your own. He adores his blonde loyal dog, Layla, more than anything in the world. And although he hates being scared, he can’t resist the thrill of haunted houses. 

By lunchtime, he’s your best friend, and it feels like he always has been.

The weeks that follow teach you everything else about Jaeyun. You notice how he bites his lip when he’s thinking or flustered, how his fingers habitually comb through his hair. His eyes widen with excitement and he gets a soft twinkle in them that resembles stars in the midnight sky, and even more when curiosity takes hold. When he smiles wide enough, his gums show, and it’s so unguarded, so him, that it makes your chest tighten. You notice all these little things, the details that most people might miss. 

By Christmas, he’s become your first love.

But you never tell him. Why would you? Why risk ruining something so beautiful when you’re convinced he doesn’t feel the same? For a while, you think maybe he does, that there is a spect of hope of something more than just being best friends. But then you catch him flirting with the class rep one too many times and your hope crumbles. It makes you tuck your feelings away, sharing them only with the moon as you lie awake at night, pondering what could be. 

The truth, though, is much different than you think. His playful teasing with the class rep, the touch of his hand on her arm - none of it means what you imagine. Those moments are nothing more than Jaeyun’s natural warmth, his easy way of making people feel seen and listened to.

What you fail to see is how he treats you compared to others. While you work yourself up about his passive flirting with others, you miss the way his hand lingers on your thigh as he laughs at your terrible jokes, or the way his head leans against your shoulder even when he’s wide awake, just because he wants to be as close to you as humanly possible. 

You overlook how his fingers absentmindedly stroke your hair while you’re talking to someone else, craving your presence even when he’s surrounded by a dozen others. You miss how his hugs linger just a little longer, tracing his fingers along your spine with his eyes closed like he’s memorising the feel of you until he can hold you again. And you don’t notice the mushrooms he always takes from your pizza, already knowing you hate the texture.

All these quiet, unspoken gestures of care - so clear, so telling - slip past you, just like his lingering gaze did on the first day.

_

Before you realise it, a year has flown by, and you and Jaeyun are inseparable. There isn’t a moment you’re not by his side or at least texting him, sharing every little thought and detail of your lives. You’ve never been happier. Your crush on him lingers, still strong but carefully restrained, tucked away where it can’t harm the bond you’ve built. He’s like a constrictor knot, holding you close through everything, keeping you afloat. The last thing you want is to unravel it with something as fragile and messy as unrequited love.

While you feel content, Jaeyun is quietly begrudging. Tonight, you have a date - with someone who isn’t him. It’s become a pattern since you turned sixteen. You meet someone, believe they might be the one, and when it inevitably falls apart, you cry to Jaeyun, convinced you’re unlovable. To you, it’s just teenage naivety, silly and fleeting. To him, it’s a slow ache that twists deeper each time.

There is nothing Jaeyun wants more than to treat you the way you deserve. All those boys you date don’t hold even a match to you. You shine so brightly that you might as well be a massive neon sign in the pitch darkness and they’re just soaking up your rays, dimming you as you run out of battery.

Still, Jaeyun helps you. He always does.  And tonight, he helps you pick out a dress, one that makes you look as though you’re the only girl in the world. His only girl. The pink sundress fits perfectly, flowing gently around your frame. 

Should he consider giving you terrible recommendations to make you look unappealing? Suggest wearing a pair of his sweatpants and the food stained tshirt you like to wear when you’re lazing about in his room? He would, of course he would, but the problem is you.

You look fucking beautiful in everything you wear; doesn’t matter if it’s a beautiful dress or the comfiest Sunday lounge wear, you look like an angel in it all, and unfortunately every man can see that too - even sixteen year old boys who don’t know how to handle you the way you deserve.

“Is this okay?” you ask, turning to the mirror as you scrutinizing and overanalyse your reflection. You’re not delusional - you know you’re not the prettiest girl in the world. But in moments like this, you just hope to look good enough.

Jaeyun watches you, noticing how your gaze lingers a little too long on your insecurities, the way your lips press together in doubt. It’s not the first time he’s noticed this - how the dates and rejections are wearing you down, little by little. And he hates it.

He steps closer, his presence solid behind you. “You look like a princess,” he says softly, his voice unwavering. “One any man would go to war for. Please never forget that.”

You pause, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone, and the way each word kisses your chest. The sunlight spills over you as you turn to him. “Be serious, Jake,” you scoff, a touch of irritation in your voice. “Can you just be serious for once?”

But he is serious. He’s never been more serious.

And then, like a sudden blow, it hits him - you don’t believe him. You never have.

For a year, Jaeyun has seen you, every single version of you: the confident you, the self-doubting you, the you in every shade of lipstick, every dress, every blush. He’s memorised the way you move, the way you smile, the way you try to hold yourself together even when you feel like falling apart. To him, every version of you is perfect. 

He is borderline obsessed with you and he just wishes - no, begs - you to see how breathtaking you truly are. Angels come from heaven and tour earth just to catch a glimpse of someone as ethereal as you.

“I am serious,” he says firmly, his hands finding your shoulders, holding you steady - just like he did on the first day you met. His eyes search yours in the mirror, his voice low but resolute. “You look fucking beautiful.”

But the words don’t land the way he hopes. You tut dismissively, breaking the moment. “Yeah, well, if I were, I’d have a boyfriend by now, wouldn’t I?”

The words sting, sharp and cutting. Jaeyun feels something deep and visceral rise in his chest - an urge to yell, to shake you out of this cruel narrative you’ve built for yourself. To dispel and dismantle every horrible thought you have about yourself. But before he can find the words to truly hammer his sincerity into you, your phone buzzes.

You pick it up, slipping from his grasp. His hands fall empty at his sides as he watches you, frozen in place. You glance at the screen, a small smile forming. “Mark’s here. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

You hug him quickly, a fleeting gesture that feels too light, too thin to hold him together. Then you’re gone, descending the stairs, leaving him standing there, staring at the mirror.

He doesn’t move. The sun dips lower, overtaken by thick clouds, and as the sky fades into night, Jaeyun stands in the quiet, a hollow ache spreading through him.

He wonders if maybe, just maybe, he’s not enough - not for you.

The moon rises, casting pale light over a boy who feels more like a shadow.

_____

“This is so nice,” you comment as you glace around the diner Mark has taken you to. It’s not particularly fancy or romantic - just a small local spot with red vinyl booths and flickering fluorescent lights. But it’s fine. You’re teenagers, after all. Neither of you has the budget or the means to splurge on a five-star restaurant, so this is…nice, you suppose.

But it feels even nicer because you’re sitting across from Mark Lee - the most popular boy in school. When he asked you out, it felt like the world shifted slightly on its axis. You’d barely known he was aware of your existence let alone interested in taking you out on a date. For the first time in a long time, you feel seen. Wanted, even.

Of course, you know better than to let male attention dictate your self-worth. You’ve been trying to unlearn that instinct, slowly watering the feminist flower bud that you’ve been cultivating inside your chest. But tonight, that budding awareness is eclipsed by the thrill of being here, across from Mark fucking Lee.

He leans back in the booth, one arm draped casually over the top of the seat, not giving you a second glance. “Yeah, I guess it’s alright,” he says casually, glancing at the menu like he can’t wait to get this over with. His tone isn’t exactly dismissive but it’s not enthusiastic either. You chalk it up to nerves or that he’s trying to ‘play it cool’, kind of like Danny Zuko in Grease when he doesn’t want his friends to know that he is excited to see Sandy again. 

And although you scream at Danny everytime the scene comes on, wishing Sandy took that as her warning to never speak to the loser again, you let it slide with Mark.

“I like it,” you offer again, trying to fill the silence. “It feels cozy. Like something out of an old movie, y’know those ones from the 60s?”

Mark raises an eyebrow, smirking faintly but not exactly intrigued. “You’re one of those artsy types, huh?”

The comment lands awkwardly, but you laugh anyway, brushing it off. “Maybe a little. I just think it has charm, you know?” So does Jaeyun, you think to yourself, suddenly missing his presence beside you. 

“Sure,” he says, but he’s already looking past you, his attention pulled by something - or rather someone - near the counter.

You follow his gaze, but there’s nothing remarkable in the direction he’s staring. Just a couple of kids from school picking up takeout. One of them is Sojung, the girl every man wants to date and all the girls want to look like. It’s almost laughable how much this entire scenario feels like a stereotypical American high school movie. 

As Sojung waves to your date, a faint unease settles in your chest, but you push it aside.

The waitress arrives, setting down two glasses of water and taking your orders. Mark orders a burger and fries without looking up from his phone, and when it’s your turn, interjects, saying you’ll have the same, not letting you speak for yourself. 

You hate burgers, they’re gross and you’re borderline vegetarian, but he doesn’t know that. In fact, he hasn’t even asked you one thing since you’ve sat down. He doesn’t know you and you would think if you’re on a date, now would be the perfect time for him to question you about your likes and dislikes? Fuck, even if he asked you your favourite colour right now it would at least be something.

“So,” you begin, trying to stir up a semblance of conversation, “how’s soccer going? I heard you scored the winning goal last week.”

He grins, finally looking at you. “Yeah, that was fucking sick. Everyone went crazy, obviously. Coach even said it was one of the best plays he’s seen.” His tone is smug, pride and arrogance beaming over his face.

“That’s amazing!” you exclaim, genuinely impressed. Jaeyun plays football too but he’s defensive midfielder so he doesn’t get many opportunities to play a goal. Mark being the striker means he gets seen as the star player even though sometimes you do think Jaeyun is slightly better. “You must’ve been on top of the world, huh?”

“I mean, yeah,” he says, shrugging nonchalantly, going back to his previous lounge position, conversation inconvenient to him once again. “But, like, it’s not a surprise, y’know? When you’re good at something, people expect you to deliver. And I always deliver.”

You nod, unsure how to respond. His confidence borders on arrogance, but you tell yourself it’s part of his charm. After all, confidence is attractive, right? Jaeyun is confident, and he’s hot…so, so hot-

Before your brain goes down a dangerous path, the food arrives. The chips are perfectly crispy and you nibble at them slowly, hoping he wont notice that you’re not even entertaining the stacked burger. You wonder if you can box it up for Jaeyun.

For a while, the conversation flows a little more easily. Mark talks about soccer, his plans for college, and his favourite music. You listen intently, asking questions and laughing at his jokes, even when they’re not particularly funny or slightly rude.

But as the night wears on, cracks begin to show, suddenly finding it more difficult to see the good in him and the evening.

When you mention a book you’ve been reading, his eyes glaze over, almost rolling. “Not really my thing,” he says dismissively, cutting you off mid-sentence. You didn’t even got the author’s name out of your mouth. He doesn’t care. If it’s not about him, he could not be less bothered in paying attention.

But again, foolishly, you try to get him talking and make this dress worth it. You ask about his family, trying to get to know the man a little deeper. Yet, he shrugs. “They’re fine, I guess. Nothing exciting.”

Still nothing. Who doesn’t like to talk about their family? Good or bad.

You try to keep the conversation light, but his responses grow shorter, his attention drifting to literally anywhere but you. He checks his phone a few times, typing out quick replies to someone from under the table. You wonder who he’s texting but don’t dare ask, not wishing to upset him when it seems you’re already hanging onto him by a thread.

By the time the waitress brings the check, which you split, you’re doing most of the heavy lifting in the conversation, trying to keep things pleasant. You tell yourself he’s just tired or distracted, that he’s not really this disinterested. You’re delusioning yourself because how many dates do you have to go on before anyone actually gives a single fuck about you or wants to be here with you.

You don’t understand how these boys can ask to date you, then be so cold and distant when you agree. Granted, you aren’t exactly picking them well. They started off as dating anyone to distract you from your feelings towards your best friend, but now you’ve been more selective, and Mark was one boy you really wanted to have a connection with.

He’s funny and charming in school, kind and generous to teachers and those in the years below him. Of course, that’s why he is popular. But this boy in front of you is not the Mark you thought you knew. Even Jaeyun says nice things about him, being on the same team and all.

“Thanks for dinner,” you say as you step out of the diner, the cool evening air brushing against your warm skin. 

“No problem,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks at you a little more intently than any other time this evening. “So, what now?”

The question hangs in the air, loaded with implications. You glance at him, unsure of what he means. You for sure thought that he was going to drive you home and that would be the end of it. He obviously isn’t interested, so why would he wish to continue the night?

“I don’t know,” you say cautiously. “I should probably head home. It’s getting late.” It’s the politest way to tell him that you don’t want to have to keep conversations going that are drier than the dessert during a wind storm.

Mark smirks, stepping closer. “Or…”, he places a hand on your waist as he steps closer, his presence now overwhelming all of your senses, and not in the nice way that Jaeyun’s were earlier. “We could hang out somewhere more private.”

Your stomach twists uncomfortably, stomach dropping as his face inches towards yours. “Private?” you echo, trying to keep your tone light, feigning ignorance.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low, dangerous. “My place is empty tonight. We could…you know, have some fun.” Marks eyebrows wiggle and you feel a dizzy. 

You’re heart and mind is screaming for Jaeyun.

The meaning is clear and it sends a jolt of panic through you. You’re not naive - you knew this was a possibility, but hearing him say it so casually feels jarring. It’s not like you gave him any hints that you’re down to fuck on a first date. You’ve never even fucked anyone at all, so the last thing you want is to lose it to a man who barely remembers your name.

“Mark, I don’t think-”

“Come on, lovely,” he interrupts, his tone shifting to something a little more foreceful. “It’s not a big deal. We’re both here, we’re both into each other, right?”

No. I’m not. We are not.

You take a step back, your heart pounding. “I just…I’m not ready for that, y’know? I don’t…do that.”

He exhales sharply, his smile faltering and shoulders tensing as he begins to feel the rejection wash over his body. Clearly, he’s not used to such a thing. “Seriously? You’re not one of those girls, are you? Haven’t you been on like a million and one dates?” His words spit across your cheek like you’ve just been slapped. “Not one of those guys has managed ti hit it?”

The question rocks you and for a moment, you’re too stunned to respond. Is that why he asked you out? Just for a quick fuck? This happened once before, with a guy from band but at least he made his intentions clear as soon as the date started and he left you alone once he knew you weren’t going to lay on his navy sheets.

“I think I should go,” you say finally, your voice shaking as you step back from him. 

Mark rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath as he follows your steps. “You’re for real a fucking virgin? You’re not playing?” You don’t know why he doesn’t believe you and it makes you wonder about the rumours echoing in the hallways of your school. “So I just wasted my fucking time?”

It’s poetically ironic how he is finally asking you questions about yourself. But this isn’t exactly what you wanted. This is belittling, as if being a virgin is anything to be ashamed of. You don’t really care about your virginity, you just want to have sex with someone who loves you, or at least could give a single fuck about your existance. Clealry, two things he doesn’t possess in his heart for you.

He doesn’t wait for a response, turning and walking off without a backward glance. “Whatever, man. Don’t fucking lead guys on like that.” He laughs bitterly before getting into his car and driving off without you, leaving you stranded and hurt. 

You stand there for a moment, the night pressing in around you. A cold, hollow ache has replaced the warmth and excitement you felt earlier. Is this all you’re worth?

As you make your way home, you replay the evening in your mind, trying to find something good to hold onto. But it’s hard. Mark wasn’t who you thought he was, and you can’t help but feel foolish for ever thinking otherwise. Part of you wonders if you should have just given in, went to his place and fucked him to get all of this over with. 

But that’s not you and that is not how you should think. You are not defined by your sexual experience and Mark should see the person you are past your body and what it can offer him. You are a real person who wanted to get to know him, understand him and if all went well, get into a relationship with him.

Since when was that so wrong?

Your mind turns and twists with thoughts, a mixture of relief and sadness swirling your insides as you begin the long walk home, desperate to see the one boy who can make this all better.

_____

It’s 9pm now and Jaeyun hasn’t heard a word from you. Not a text to say it’s going well or one to say you’re home. He begins to imagine the worst; kidnapping, death, falling down a ditch, a Scooby-Doo villain coming to snatch you from Mark’s arms. His worries are not unprecedented - you’re always back by 8 pm latest, knowing that your family don’t like you out late. So he texts you, trying to come across as casual and not like a possessive best friend who jumped to worst-case scenarios.

Jaeyun: Y/N, are you okay? Did everything go well? Text me when you can

An incoming call flashes on his phone almost immediately after he presses sends. Princess. You don’t know that’s your name on his phone, but for some reason having just your name feels insincere and distant. Jaeyun doesn’t like that feeling, plus, it gives him a second of delusion.

He clicks the answer button and is immediately met with your shaky voice, the effects of being out of breath and stranded in the cold.

“Jaeyun?” you ask as if you didn’t hit the call button yourself. You were in the middle of writing a message when he sent one instead. 

Jaeyun’s heart sinks at the sound of your voice. Shaky, uncertain, and laced with something he can’t quite place - fear? Sadness? Either way, it’s not good, and his grip on the phone tightens as he sits up in his bed, alert and alarmed. 

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Where are you?” His words come out rushed, his mind racing as he hears the faint rustles of cars and the wind crackle through your receiver. It means you aren’t home and are in high chance of being in danger. Maybe he was right to worry after all.

There’s a pause on your end, long enough to make his chest tighten. Then, you exhale shakily. “I…I’m fine,” you start, but the tremor in your voice betrays you. “I’m just…not where I want to be right now.” You want to be beside him.

He glances at the clock. 9:03pm and his knee begins to bounce with restless energy as he tries to piece together what’s happening. “Are you still with Mark?”

“No,” you say quickly, almost too quickly. “I- He left a while ago.” Another pause, and then a bitter laugh escapes you. “He ditched me after possibly one of the worst dates of my life.”

Jaeyun’s chest floods with relief at the fact Mark is away from you. Although you’re alone and that sets unease into the pit of his stomach, there’s reassurance with the fact that you’re not with the striker. Mark is a nice guy - as far as Jaeyun knows - but that doesn’t mean he isn’t still cautious about the boy. He is still a man after all.

“Are you walking? Y/N, it’s late, and it’s fucking freezing. Why didn’t you call me sooner?” Jaeyun immediately stands to attention and grabs his jacket, already anticipating that he will be running to wherever you are.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you admit softly, and the words hit him harder than he expects. 

“Bother me?” he echoes, already grabbing his keys and slipping on his shoes. “Y/N, you could never bother me. Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

“Jaeyun, you don’t have to-”

“Don’t argue,” he cuts you off firmly, his voice leaving no room for debate. “Just stay put, okay? I’ll be there in ten minutes. Send me your location, yeah?”

You don’t reply, but the faint sound of your sniffle on the other end makes his chest ache. “Okay,” you finally whisper, and he can hear the gratitude in your voice. You really didn’t want to disturb him, but if you can’t turn to him, who can you run to? 

It’s selfish, but you need him.

He hangs up, shoving his phone into his pocket and bolting out the door. The cold night air hits him and it only enrages him more; how could Mark leave you like this? Shaking the thoughts away, he focuses his mind on what matters right now. You. Finding you and making sure you’re okay. He can deal with Mark another day.

And trust that he will.

—

The sharpness of the wind cuts through your thin jacket as you drag your feet along the pavement, your arms tightly crossed over your chest. Anger and sadness bubble and twirl inside of you, fueling your steps and helping to keep the cold at bay. Adrenaline acts as an electric blanket under your skin and for the first time in your life, you’re thankful that your body gets overly attached to your emotions.

Then you hear it.

“Y/N!”

That familiar, sweet Australian accent drifts through the night as it dances past the whistle of the wind, laced with a mix of relief and frustration. You glance up to see Jaeyun running toward you, his breath visible in the frosty air. There’s a small smile on his face, but you can see right through it, of course you can; you’ve known him long enough to recognise the worry etched into his features, the simmering anger in his eyes.

Your legs instinctively quicken and as he gets closer, you feel the tension in your body begin to dissolve. By the time you meet him halfway, your arms are already reaching for him, and he’s there - steady, warm, and exactly what you need.

Jaeyun wraps his arms around you without hesitation, pulling you close. His hoodie smells faintly of laundry detergent and that musk that is so distinctly him. His embrace is firm, possessive, and impossibly comforting. The heat of his body seeps into you, melting the ice that had taken root in your chest.

“What the fuck were you thinking walking out here alone?” he murmurs, his voice gentle but laced with exasperation. His hands rub up and down your back, trying to chase away the cold. “It’s freezing, Y/N. And dark, you don’t know who is lurking in the shadows.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you admit, your voice muffled against his chest. “I couldn’t stay there and I didn’t want to have you catch a bus all the way into the main city.”

Jaeyun’s arms tighten around you, and he lets out a soft sigh. “You should’ve called me. I would have gotten a taxi and come to pick you up or got Jay to drive me. He’s got his permit now.”

You simply look down, ashamed that he even had to come to your rescue in the first place. You would say you’re quite independent, so to rely on him so much feels shameful all of a sudden. It’s different when it’s a slight inconvenience, you don’t mind pestering him to come help you with homework or to go shopping with you. But this is pulling him out to come save you. That’s embarrassing…Perhaps you shouldn’t have called.

But you need him. Only him. 

Jaeyun studies you for a moment, his eyes softening as he takes in your flushed cheeks and trembling frame, the cogs in your mind working overtime with little payoff. “Here,” he says, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. The warmth is immediate, and the scent of him envelops you completely. “Better?”

You nod again, clutching the fabric tightly around you. “Yeah,” you bite your lip, the burning in the back of your throat raw and overwhelming. 

He tilts his head toward the direction of your house, noting how you’re two seconds away from bursting into hysterical tears. “Come on, let’s get you home, Y/N. Your mum’s probably worried.”

Nodding, you let him take your hand as you fall into step beside him, the sound of your footsteps filling the quiet night. Even this simple touch instils some peace into your overworked body. You still can’t get over Mark and his comments, his expectations of you to just drop your pants and let him…

“I thought he liked me,” you say softly, your voice tinged with bitterness and hurt. 

Jaeyun’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he lets out a slow breath before speaking, making sure he doesn’t say something he regrets. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Really. I know how excited you were about tonight. But just think about the bullet you dodged, yeah?”

You stare down at the pavement, his words sinking in. “I just…I thought he was different,” you admit, your breath fogging up in the cold air. “But he wasn’t even listening to me. And then he…” You trail off, not wanting to say the rest out loud.

Your trail off causes Jaeyun to pause his steps, his hand squeezing yours tightly to halt your own feet. “What do you mean? What the fuck did he do?” Jaeyun doesn’t get angry. The only instance you’ve ever seen him get mad was on the pitch after he received a red card and got subbed. 

But this is also a different kind of rage, it’s more abrupt and sudden. His eyes search yours to make sure anything you tell him in the next few minutes isn’t a lie to protect Mark or downplay anything that happened tonight. 

Seeing his rage begin to build, you shake your head vigorously. “No! No, no, nothing like that I promise,” you bite your lips together. “He wanted to, but I told him no.”

“What a fucking cu-”

“Jaeyun, it’s okay. He didn’t force anything but he was pretty pissed,” you further explain, hoping the heaving in his chest subsides. Jaeyun isn’t violent but you can see a lust for blood as his mind spirals.

“I should kill him,” he begins, stepping closer to you. “You deserve way better than that. So much fucking better, Y/N.”

A bitter laugh escapes you, sharp and self-deprecating. It feels like every ounce of doubt you’ve tried to bury is clawing its way out. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe I’m just not-”

“Don’t.” His voice cuts through your words with a finality that makes you stop. The intensity in his gaze is unyielding as he reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his, as if tethering you to the truth he wants you to believe. “Don’t say that. You’re amazing, Y/N. And if some guy can’t see that, then that’s his loss. Not yours. Who gives a fuck if it’s Mark Lee or Mark Henry?”

The unexpected humour in his words pulls a reluctant laugh from you, easing some of the tension knotting your chest. He always seems to know just the right thing to say. You envy him for that, and adore him all the same.

“You deserve someone who wants to be with you with zero expectations,” he continues, his voice soft but firm, willing you to understand his point of view. “Got it?”

You manage a faint smile, but the weight of his words settles heavily in your throat, forming a lump you can’t quite swallow. He means every syllable - you can hear it in his voice, see it in the conviction in his eyes. Yet, no matter how much you want to believe him, these part few months of disappointment and hurt have left you too bruised to take it to heart. His words sound like a lie whispered into the wind. 

“Why can’t I just find someone to love me?” you murmur, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even yourself.

At that, Jaeyun’s hand loosens from yours, the reassuring warmth slipping away. His entire demeanour shifts, and when you glance up at him, his eyes are no longer fierce with determination. Instead, they glaze over with something raw and unspoken, a sheen of unshed tears.

“Jaeyun…what’s wrong?” you ask, your voice tentative as you try to piece together what’s happening. He doesn’t usually switch emotions so easily, so randomly. Honestly, you were expecting him to tell you to shut up and behave yourself, the way he sometimes does dismissively to stop you talking about being unlikable. He doesn’t wave it off cruelly, but rather because he knows you’ll just overthink and get even more upset.

Little do you know he just does it to protect himself. The thought of you with anyone else enough to spiral him into despair for at least two days.

He exhales shakily as the weigh of his feelings becomes too difficult to shoulder. “Am I not enough?” he whispers, his voice barely audible, carried to your ears only by the breath of the night air. The desperation in his tone sends a jolt through you, leaving you momentarily speechless.

“What…?” you begin, confused, the pieces of the puzzle slipping through your fingers.

“Why is it never me you choose?” he continues, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. “Why is it always everyone and anyone else? Why can’t it ever just fucking be me?”

His jaw clenches as a single tear escapes, tracing a glistening path down his cheek. It’s a rare sight, his sadness, usually so determined to bottle it all away and deal with the consequences once it gets too much. And that seems to be tonight. They’re spilling over, months of buried feelings breaking free. He doesn’t mean for the words to sound bitter, but they do, tinged with exhaustion and a quiet plea for understanding.

You’re stunned, stuck to the spot as his confession echoes through you. It’s as though the air has been sucked from your lungs, leaving you grasping for clarity amidst the absolute carnage of your mind. He inhales deeply, trying to steady himself yet the silence that stretches between you is deafening, making him that much more self-conscious.

You know you need to respond, to say something, but the words catch in your throat, refusing to come. 

Jaeyun mistakes your silence for rejection. His shoulders slump further, and he looks away, his gaze falling to the ground. “I…I shouldn’t have said anything. I…” His voice trails off, broken, as he takes a step back.

“Jaeyun,” you manage as your voice comes out as a whisper. He doesn’t look at you, already gearing himself to lose you forever. After all, how many times does this happen? The guy ruins a friendship with a girl because they’re unable to just keep things platonic. It’s not like he wanted to develop these feelings, but you’re his true love and he knows it deep down, that’s why this hurts so much.

He would rather have you in his life as a friend than not at all, and he might have just royally fucked that up.

“Jaeyun, please. Look at me.” When he doesn’t respond, you step closer, your voice firmer this time. “What are you saying?” When he finally glances up, the anguish in his eyes steals your breath. 

It’s not or never, Jake. Might as well go all in, he encourages himself despite his doubts.

“You give everyone else your time, your attention. You put on those cute dresses for guys who don’t even deserve to look at you. I’m not saying I even deserve the honour of looking at you, but…” His voice falters as he struggles to find the right words. Then, with a renewed intensity, he meets your gaze. “Can’t I at least get a chance to prove that might?”

There’s a quiet longing in his expression, an innocent yearning for something real and pure. The sight of his tears, the jagged edge to his breathing, the raw vulnerability he’s showing you now - it’s overwhelming for both of you. Your heart aches for him, for the boy who’s always been there, quietly waiting for something you never realised was possible.

Jaeyun likes you.

Without hesitation, your hands reach for him, cupping his face gently. You wipe the stray tears from his cheeks, the warmth of his anguish a contrast to the cold breeze that washes over you both.

“Sim Jaeyun,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you pluck the courage to tell him your feelings. It’s only right to lay yourself bare just as he has. “You are everything I have ever wanted.”

The truth spills from your lips like a revelation, as clear and beautiful as the moonlight bathing the two of you in light. You’ve never told him why those dates never worked out. Mark may have been a particular kind of awful, but the others? The others failed simply because they weren’t him. They weren’t Jaeyun. With every small gesture he made, every thoughtful word he spoke, he set a standard no one else could meet. And you compared them all to him, unknowingly sabotaging every potential chance of getting a boyfriend because they fell short of the boy standing before you now. 

“I didn’t think I was an option for you,” you admit, your voice cracking slightly under the weight of your honest emotions. “So I kept looking for someone who wanted me back. But none of them were you.” The last words are barely audible, but the quiet of the night amplifies them like a shout.

Jaeyun’s breath catches, and he feels the tightness in his chest ease for the first time in what feels like forever. He can’t speak, doesn’t trust himself to find the right words, so instead, he pulls you into his arms. His chin rests on your shoulder, one hand gripping your waist while the other finds its way into your hair, holding you close. Disbelief and shock course through his veins at your confession, so he clings to you tighter, scared that he might wake up.

Because in what world does Y/N L/N like him back? Since when? How? Why?

“You’re so stupid,” he mutters, his voice muffled against your shoulder. The words make him wince as soon as they’re out but you thankfully laugh softly, not taking them too harshly to heart. When he pulls back, his hand moves to your cheek, thumb brushing gently across your skin as he searches your eyes for something - permission, perhaps, or reassurance.

And then you kiss him, giving him everything he could want within this moment.

It’s soft and a little apprehensive, your lips barely moving against his. But it’s enough. Enough to convey your deep thoughts, enough to make the world fade away until it’s just the two of you. The air around you feels warmer as if the moon has been replaced with the blazing sun.

The kiss is so sweet and innocent, your mouths telling each other all the times you missed out on confessing, each time that the words of your feelings reached the tip of your tongues. You slowly lick his bottom lip and he groans, finally snapping out of his trance and pulling you impossibly closer by your waist as his tongue caresses yours.

From the very moment your lips meld with his, Jaeyun shares every first with you. 

—

The next day carries a completely different energy, a newness in the air that’s almost tangible. Everything feels brighter, saturation turned up 100%, as if hope has stitched itself into the fabric of your life. It could be the overwhelming joy of finally being with Jaeyun after all this time. It feels surreal like a fever dream you’re afraid to wake from, having lived so long in the liminal space between delusion and denial.

But Sim Jaeyun is yours - officially yours. You wonder if you’ve ever jacked off a leprechaun in a past life with how impossibly lucky you’ve gotten.

Walking into school together that morning, you hold his hand. Jaeyun has taken your hand plenty of times before, but this is different. This time, his fingers weave through yours with quiet confidence, declaring to the world that you are his. His love. It sends a thrill through you, enough to plant a shit-eating grin on your face so wide it feels permanent, as if even the toughest mix of Pink Stuff and a Scrub Daddy couldn’t remove it.

At first, no one notices the shift in your relationship; you’ve always been inseparable and clingy. But when Jaeyun kisses you so tenderly outside your first period maths class, it catches people’s attention. Whispers ripple through the hallways: "Finally" and "Weren’t they already dating?" follow you both throughout the day. Jaeyun doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he takes every opportunity to kiss you - soft, fleeting pecks on your cheeks, your forehead, your lips, anywhere that he can land his mouth on you, trying to make up for all the times he wanted to but didn’t.

All those sleepovers when he stayed awake, watching you sleep peacefully beside him - he didn’t kiss you. The times you edged closer to him at the cinema during scary or tense moments - he didn’t kiss you. Even at family gatherings, when it was just the two of you swaying on the dance floor as your drunk aunts and his uncles disappeared into the night - he held back. Now, though, he doesn’t have to. And he won’t let his lips forget the feeling of yours.

“Go on a date with me,” Jaeyun says suddenly, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

Pausing outside of your physics class - his favourite subject but arguably your least - you look up at him, curiosity tilting your head. “A date?” Your fingers remain interlocked with his, and you begin to swing them gently back and forth. Your heart flutters at the idea of a date with Jaeyun, one where you don’t feel the pressure to impress because he already adores you just as you are. He’s made that abundantly clear. “When?”

“Tomorrow. There’s an outdoor cinema that just opened, and they’re showing ‘Labyrinth.’” His eyes sparkle knowingly as he mentions your favourite film. “I already bought the tickets, so you have no choice but to come with me.” He seals the deal with a kiss on your forehead.

While the gesture makes you smile, your brow furrows. “But you hate ‘Labyrinth.’ You said it’s too weird that David Bowie is trying to seduce a teenager.”

The first time you showed him the 1986 classic, he had been eager to dive into your favourite fantasy world. However, that enthusiasm evaporated quickly, replaced by incredulity at the abundance of crotch-shots and bizarre farting bog. Suffice to say, he didn’t share your affection for it.

“True,” he admits, his lips curling into a sly smile, “but it’s your favourite movie. And as your boyfriend, I think I can look past the unnecessary bulges and questionable age gaps for you.”

Your head tilts in amused disbelief. “You know they don’t actually date, right? He’s just infatuated with her innocence.” You pause, and then it hits you. “Oh...okay, now I see what you mean.”

He laughs at your realisation, the sound bright and unguarded - the kind of laugh that makes you feel like you’re flying.

“Well,” he says, his voice softer now, “this time, you can watch it with fresh eyes.” He kisses you again, his lips lingering against yours as he whispers, “So, come with me?”

It doesn’t take you a second before you nod, pecking his lips in return as a definite sign of agreeance. “You’ve ruined my favourite movie for me, but since it’s you, I’ll allow it.”

“Good. The tickets are nonrefundable.” He pulls you into his arms, laughing as your head rests against his chest. You feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, fast but comforting. The same heart that holds a space for you inside of it.

This - this is what you love. How nothing between you has really changed. Emotions have simply heightened, blossoming into something more profound. Jaeyun is still Jaeyun, but now he’s yours. The shackles of both of you keeping your feelings buried held you back from all of this love, all this time you could have just been with one another unapologetically. No guilt about feelings or potentially ruining your friendship, now it’s freedom. 

“I’ve got practice,” he says, pulling back slightly to look at you, warmth blushes over his cheeks as he sees the adoration for him in your pupils. “I’ll text you when it’s over and we can walk home.” He kisses you for the nth time, his gaze lingering. “Don’t miss me too much, baby.”

The unexpected pet name turns your cheeks crimson, and you swat his chest playfully, still not sure how to handle the giddiness in your chest every time he does something slightly romantic. “I think it’s more likely you’ll be the one missing me.”

“I always do,” he replies without hesitation, his voice rich with sincerity. 

_____

As the day of your first date approaches, anticipation bubbles in your stomach. Thirty minutes - just thirty minutes stand between you and an entirely new chapter with Jaeyun. Your nerves tangle as you try to steady your breathing, your mind racing. You’ve been on dates before, but there was always the comfort of reminding yourself, At least it’s not Jaeyun.

But now it is Jaeyun. And that changes everything.

The sundress you spent hours picking out suddenly feels wrong. What if he doesn’t like it? What if you look frumpy when you sit down? The issue with going on a date with Jaeyun and not some random boy is that you can’t ask his opinion on your outfit. He always helped you out and now when it matters most, you need to decide for yourself and trust yourself. Not very fair.

You stand in front of the mirror, scrutinising every possible angle he could see you from, tugging at the hem, twisting this way and that to see which lines and folds are more prominent than others. Jaeyun has seen you in every state - from sleep-deprived to sick - and he’s never batted an eye. It couldn’t be worse than that, right? But somehow, those thoughts don’t ease your anxiety. 

Just as the golden sun begins to flood through your window, a firm knock echoes from the front door. You cast one last glance over yourself in the mirror, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles before a final spritz of perfume. Jaeyun’s favourite is something light and citrus, he says it makes everything feel effortless, and that’s exactly what you need this first date to be. 

Another knock follows, this time a little sharper. You dart down the stairs, your heart pounding, and open the door in a hurry. “Sorry, I was just finishing getting ready,” you say, the words spilling out before the door is even fully open.

Jaeyun’s breath catches. He stands there, rendered speechless, his eyes sweeping over you in quiet awe. The sundress - a blue as soft and endless as the June sky - drapes over you perfectly, your hair cascading past your shoulders, held back by two delicate white bows. He’s grown used to tucking the strands they held behind your ear, knowing how much they annoy you. But now that excuse to touch you has vanished. Then again, he doesn’t need an excuse anymore, not now that you’re his. 

His gaze lingers on your neck, catching the faint shimmer of your perfume’s dewy mist, and suddenly he feels absurdly underdressed in his beige trousers, white top, and denim vest. The outfit that had seemed so effortlessly cool this morning now feels naively foolish.

You shift nervously under his gaze, mistaking his silence for something else entirely. Is he trying to think of a compliment because he hates it? The thought ties a knot in your stomach. Is he disappointed? 

You’re both stupid. Stupidly in love as you overthink.

“You look,” he finally begins, his voice softer than usual as he tries to collect himself, his accent thick and heavy, “you look like you’re the muse for the stars.” He pauses, his words feeling inadequate for the way you’ve left him feeling. It isn’t everything he wants to say, but it’s all he can manage. He wants to write you Shakespeare-level sonnets, to tell you everything you have ever needed and wanted to hear but he’s fumbling hard as he watches you nervously shift your feet and bite your lip. 

A flush warms your cheeks, and a flutter runs up your spine. You glance at him, expecting him to meet your gaze, but his eyes are busy drinking in every detail. There’s a strange intensity on his face - something you’ve seen in films but never truly believed you’d experience in real life.

“Thank you, Jaeyun,” you murmur, your voice catching slightly as you reach for your jacket hanging on the wooden rack. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.” The word escapes him in a whisper, carried on a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, though he avoids direct eye contact. It’s as if he’s afraid meeting your gaze will betray all the things he’s too scared to say. He watches you shrug on your white jacket, slightly creased but perfect to him all the same. That jacket - he’s always loved it on you. Then again, there isn’t anything he doesn’t love on you. You could wear a burlap sack, and he’d still think you were the most beautiful girl to grace the earth.

—

The walk to the outdoor movie theatre is filled with random snippets of conversation, the kind you’d expect from two people who have been friends for years yet feel the exhilarating newness of calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Still, Jaeyun never quite meets your eyes. His gaze flickers to your profile when he thinks you’re not looking, admiring the way the evening sunlight dances off your hair or the soft curve of your smile when you laugh at one of his god-awful jokes.

His thoughts are a mess. She’s too beautiful. Is this real? Am I staring too much? And every time the wind catches your hair and brushes it behind your ear, his lungs forget that they have an important job to do, and he has to force himself to refocus on not tripping over his own feet.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you tease as you nudge his arm. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Jaeyun’s ears burn at the passing compliment - secretly enjoying being called pretty more than hot or handsome - and he quickly shakes his head, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Nothing,” he lies, but his grin betrays him. It’s embarrassing enough that you’ve caught him acting weird, never mind him spilling his guts out and telling the reason for his awkward chuckles and lack of eye contact is because you’re too beautiful that his brain short-circuits.

“Liar,” you quip, giggling softly but letting him keep his secrets. 

Before either of you realise, you’ve arrived at the outdoor theatre. Fairy lights are strung around the area, draping the venue in a warm, golden glow as the sun begins its descent. A soft murmur of chatter fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of popcorn and freshly cut grass. Jaeyun hands the tickets to the attendant, and you both scan the crowd for a spot.

It’s busier than he thought it would be; people must really like hobgoblins and nonces.

“Over there,” you say excitedly, pointing to a small patch on the left. It’s snug and as private as an outdoor venue can be. A tree curves over the spot, creating a romantic setting as the leaves blossom and some fall around you.

Jaeyun pulls a blanket out of his bag as well as a packet of strawberry laces - your favourite. The sight of them, along with some other of your desired snacks, makes your heart swell. “Thanks, Jaeyun,” you say softly, settling into a comfortable position and draping the blanket over your legs.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles, placing the sweets between you two. As he rifles through his bag for the drinks, you catch yourself staring at him. The soft denim vest he’s wearing accentuates his broad shoulders, and the way his jaw flexes, while he concentrates, sends your heart into a free fall.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you murmur, your voice almost shy.

Jaeyun quickly glances at you, his smile soft. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, just say the word,” he replies, his tone casual but the sincerity in his words is undeniable. He has such a beautiful way of making you feel like loving you is effortless. Even as your best friend, his love for you was second nature.

You never thank him enough for that.

The movie begins just as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the theatre in red twilight. You shift closer to him, your knees brushing his thigh as the blanket falls. Without thinking, Jaeyun places his hand on your knee, his thumb grazing under fabric of your dress. The contact sends a jolt through you, and your breath hitches, though he doesn’t seem to notice.

It’s an innocent gesture, one that he isn’t a stranger to. But this is a little different; now you can really take notice of each touch he gives you, no longer having to bottle up how it makes you feel to have his skin on yours.

As you try to focus on the film, your eyes flicker downward to his arm and fuck was it a bad decision. The veins in his forearm protrude, dancing with the subtle flex of his fingers against your knee. It makes your stomach knot in ways that have nothing to do with nerves. You swallow hard, but your mouth feels dry - all the moisture from your tongue now dripped down to your heat.

You have never been so horny in your life.

Jaeyun notices you shift beside him and leans in to whisper, concern evident in his voice. “You okay, Y/N?” 

You nod quickly, your cheeks burning as you force yourself to look at the screen. But now, all you can notice is Jareth’s outfit - and more specifically, the…prominent tent of his trousers.

Was it always that in-your-face? you wonder, squirming slightly.

Jaeyun’s voice cuts through your spiralling thoughts as he nudges your shoulder. “You think I could pull off that outfit?” he asks, pointing to the screen with a smirk. He can sense something wrong with you - what that is, he doesn’t quite know - but the one thing that always dissipates any unease within you is humour.

Normally, you’d laugh and fire back a sarcastic remark, but the thought of him in those trousers, of what they’d accentuate, well that makes heat flood your face and panties stick to you. 

It’s not that you’ve never thought about Jaeyun sexually, of course, you have. You’re a girl at the end of the day and your hormones are all over the place, sad, horny, excited, depressed, hyper, you experience all the emotions mountains high. And as much as you’re telling yourself not to get too carried away - after all, he just became your boyfriend yesterday - your mind has other plans. It’s been waiting for him, your body has been craving him as it tries to work out how to control the lust you’ve decided to develop.

You manage a weak chuckle, hoping the inner turmoil your facing doesn’t show on your face. But your lack of response doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale,” he says, his brow furrowing as his hand slides up your thigh.

The sudden pressure is too much, his fingerprints kissing your sensitive skin. So you do what any girl would do; you jolt upright, nearly knocking over the strawberry laces in your haste and avoid the situation altogether. 

“I-I’m going to get a drink. Do you want one?” you stammer, not waiting for his response before grabbing your bag and practically bolting to the concession stand.

Jaeyun watches you go, confusion etched right across his face. What the fuck was that? As he replays every single second from the past few moments. You sat down, grabbed the blanket, and watched the movie. He noticed you were a little off and trailed his hand up your thigh-

His eyes widen in horror. Oh no. No, no, no. I crossed a line, didn’t I? I made her uncomfortable. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He buries his face in his hands, groaning quietly. After what happened with Mark a few days ago, after explaining how you deserve someone with no expectations of you to give anything like that in return, he goes and makes you uncomfortable. 

He didn’t even mean it like that, but how else are you meant to take his groping of your thigh if not hormonal horn?

Meanwhile, you’re dealing with your own panic as you stand at the brightly lit stand, trying to cool down. What is wrong with me? you think, tapping your card against the reader as you order two drinks - grape for him and strawberry for yourself. 

This is Jaeyun. My boyfriend. My best friend. The person I’ve known for years and yet, somehow, tonight feels different. It’s as though every wall that’s ever been between us has crumbled, leaving nothing but raw vulnerability and an unbearable awareness of him.

Why are you suddenly just so…aware of him? The way his shirt clings to his chest, the slope of his jaw as it tenses when he laughs, and the way his hair falls just slightly into his eyes, make you want to reach up and push it back. Maybe this is why people say bottling things up only makes them spill over. Because once the cap comes off, it’s impossible to stop the flood.

And right now years of want and need are flooding. Overflowing.

When you return from the stand, two drinks in hand, Jaeyun’s waiting, his leg bouncing slightly as though he’s nervous. The moment you hand him his grapeade, his fingers brush yours, and he mutters a soft, “Thanks, Y/N.” His smile is polite but stiff, and he shifts slightly, leaving a noticeable gap between you on the blanket. The movement is subtle, but it feels like a canyon has opened between you. Your stomach twists uncomfortably.

He thinks I’m uncomfortable. The realisation hits like a punch. He thinks he did something wrong, and now you’ve ruined the date.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s focused on the screen, but his posture is rigid, his hands clasped tightly around the bottle. He looks like he’s trying too hard to blend in, to take up less space, and it makes your heart ache. You know he’s overthinking, blaming himself for a moment you caused by being incapable of keeping your thoughts - indecent and overwhelming as they are - under control.

Perhaps if you were a little more confident, you could play it off. Flirt back. Create some playful tension. Isn’t that what people do on dates? But instead, you’re stuck in your head, wrestling with your own feelings and second-guessing every move.

The rest of the movie passes in silence, save for the blare of the soundtrack and the occasional rustle of Jaeyun reaching for snacks. You try to focus on the film, humming along softly to familiar songs, but your thoughts are louder than the speakers. You can feel his glances, those fleeting looks that linger for a second too long before darting away, and they remind you so much of the way you used to look at him before you were together. The way you’d steal glimpses, full of longing, wondering if he’d ever see you the same way.

Now, it feels like you’re back there again, standing on opposite sides of an invisible wall. The distance between you feels unbearable. 

As the credits roll and the crowd begins to disperse, you both stand, brushing crumbs from your clothes, your dress creased and suddenly all that fuss earlier in the evening feels wasted.

The walk home is quiet, the tension so thick it feels like you’re wading through it. Neither of you speaks, both lost in your own twisted thoughts, blaming yourselves for something none of you are aware of. Your hands swing awkwardly at your sides, never quite brushing his but longing to lock your fingers into his, and it’s enough to drive you mad.

When you finally reach your doorstep, the words come spilling out simultaneously. “Jaeyun, I—-” “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

You stop, blinking at each other in surprise. His head dips, his gaze fixed on the ground, and he shuffles his feet. “Y/N, you don’t have to say anything. I know I messed up.”

“What?” you ask, frowning.

“I shouldn’t have touched you like that,” he continues, his voice strained. “I mean, on your thigh. It was stupid and inappropriate, and I made you uncomfortable. I-I should’ve known better. Especially after what happened with that prick.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. When they do, your heart sinks. “Jaeyun, no,” you say softly, stepping closer. You reach out, taking his hand in yours, and he looks up, his eyes filled with guilt. “I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

His brows furrow, confusion evident. “Then why did you-”

“I was turned on, okay?!” you blurt out, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them. Your hand flies to your mouth, your eyes wide in horror. Did you seriously just admit that so blase? You have zero shame apparently, but deep down you know you have to tell him the truth or else he will continue to blame himself for something he didn’t even do.

There’s a beat of silence, your horny confession sucking the cold air away from you and filling you both with burning heat.

Then, Jaeyun’s lips twitch, and before you know it, he’s laughing. Not just chuckling, but full-on doubling over, his hands on his knees as he lets out a loud, hearty laugh. All the anxiety and apprehension totally vanished and replaced with relief and amusement.

“Jaeyun!” you groan, your face burning. You swat at his shoulder, but it only makes him laugh harder.

“Wait, wait,” he gasps, straightening up. He’s grinning now, his cheeks pink from laughter, and his eyes sparkle in the dim light. “You were turned on?”

You glare at him, your embarrassment reaching new heights. “Stop saying it!”

But he’s not done. He steps closer, his hands cupping your face, and suddenly all the teasing is gone. His expression softens, his eyes searching yours. “Baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, “I thought I crossed the line.”

You shake your head, your hands slipping around his waist. “You didn’t, I promise. I just got…” you whisper, trailing off as to not repeat it again.

Before you can say anything more, his lips are on yours. The kiss is nothing like the ones you’ve shared previous. It’s urgent, almost desperate, his lips moving against yours with a fervour that leaves you breathless. His hand slides to your throat, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw as his silver ring presses coolly against your skin. You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his wet muscle teasing yours.

The mix of all your emotions swirls as his tongue laps yours in reassuring strokes, his hand tightening on your neck, grounding you in the moment. If it wasn’t for his touch, you might float away, all of your insides turned to flames as your body acts like a hot air balloon.

“Y/N,” he groans against your lips, his voice filled with need.

You nod, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, as though the space between you is too much to bear. The world around you fades, and all that exists is him - the taste of his lips, the warmth of his body, the sound of his ragged breathing. 

Jaeyun snakes one of his arms around your waist, pulling your hips to his as you feel him growing against you. The sensation causes you to both harmonise a moan as you completely meld into one another. 

If you weren’t horny before, you certainly are now.

And then, just as you both begin to get excited about what the night could hold, the porch light flicks on, flooding the driveway with a blinding light.

“Shit,” Jaeyun mutters, pulling back as he glances at the door. “Your mum’s going to kill me if she sees us like this.”

You try to pull him back, not really caring about the impending danger of your mother’s scolding. It’s not like she would care if you are both dating, but being caught while you practically try to hump him might cause her to never let Jaeyun in your house again. Goodbye sleepovers, goodbye midnight hangouts on the weekends, and certainly goodbye to closing the door. 

Pulling him back, you shake your head adamantly, muttering a soft ‘nu-uh’ as you capture his mouth with yours. Jaeyun can’t help but give in for a second, gripping your waist tightly as he groans in both frustration and pleasure.

Once he hears the loud, heavy footsteps of your mum padding down the stairs, Jaeyun reluctantly pulls away, his breath mingling with yours as his forehead rests against yours for a fleeting moment. He doesn’t leave you hanging, though. Instead, he peppers your lips with a series of soft, teasing kisses - each one lighter than the last, as if he’s trying to wean you off him. A playful smirk tugs at his lips when he plants a final, lingering peck.

“To be continued, yeah?” he whispers, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. There’s something about knowing the effect he has on you, it really makes him realise that this is definitely more than just friendship for you, that line crossed so quickly. His words linger in the air, filled with promises of what’s to come.

Before you can answer, he darts off, bolting down the driveway, and just in time, your mum appears at the door, her brow furrowing as she spots you standing there, rooted to the spot, cheeks aflame.

“Y/N? What are you doing out here?” she asks, her voice laced with suspicion, as she looks past you towards the street.

“Nothing, Mum,” you reply, your voice light and breezy despite the flush still colouring your cheeks. You try to keep the grin tugging at your lips at bay, but it’s no use. You watch Jaeyun’s figure disappear into the distance, his silhouette illuminated briefly by the streetlights, and your heart feels as though it’s been set alight, burning in the most beautiful way - there’s no danger, only passion.

He is everything. Everything you could ever want, everything you never knew you needed. His laughter, his touch, the way his voice wraps around you - it’s all etched into your skin, into the very fabric of your atoms.

With your heart fit to burst, overflowing with the weight of his adoration and your own, you step inside, heading upstairs. Each step feels light and easy, as though you’re gliding, feet barely touching the ground.

Later that night, as you lie in bed, his scent still lingering faintly on your skin, your phone buzzes on the bedside table. You grab it instantly, your pulse quickening when you see his name lighting up the screen.

I’m so happy I get to kiss you like that forever. x

________

For the next three months, you and Jaeyun kiss like your lungs will collapse without one another’s breath. It becomes a routine; you steal moments before either of your mums get home, tucked away behind the stairwell during class breaks, or hidden between the library shelves when study periods drag on too long. Any opportunity, no matter how fleeting or risky, you grab it by the balls.

Even now, you’re leaning against the faded cream wall outside your classroom with the metal lockers nearby doing little to shield you and Jaeyun’s actions. You’re really meant to be inside the class by now, diligently sitting at your seat like the semi-good student you are. Instead, Jaeyun’s hands are in your hair, fingers delicately brushing past the knots he has created. His lips are warm, firm, and insistent against yours.

God, those fucking lips.

A low, breathy groan escapes him, reverberating against your mouth and it sends a shiver from your head to your toes. The sound is a pretty reminder that he’s just as caught up in this as you are. His palm finds the side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your pulse in a way that makes your knees feel dangerously weak. You’re vaguely aware of the world outside the bubble you’ve created together, but it feels distant and unimportant right now. The heat pooling in your stomach, the way his teeth catch your bottom lip - something Jaeyun figured out you like very quickly - that’s all that matters.

“Excuse me, Mr. Sim, Miss L/N,” a sharp, exhausted voice cuts through the haze, and you both jolt apart like guilty children caught red-handed. Your teacher, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, looks both annoyed and resigned. You glance at Jaeyun, who dares to grin, his lips still slightly swollen and his hair deliciously mussed.

“Sorry, sir,” Jaeyun says, not sounding sorry in the slightest. Why would he be? He takes kissing you far more seriously than any lesson. Jaeyun presses one more hasted kiss to your lips, whispering a silent promise that it won’t be long before his mouth is back on yours, breathing in your lifeline. He shoots you a quick wink, and you have to bite back a laugh. The teacher’s glare sharpens.

By now, everyone in school is sick of the two of you. Teachers sigh audibly whenever you walk into a room together already knowing neither of you will pay attention, and students roll their eyes like it’s a chore. “You guys are so disgusting,” someone groans one day when you’re perched on Jaeyun’s desk, your fingers tracing patterns on his forearm as he squeezes your thigh. “Can you please keep your lovey-dovey shit out of my face?”

Another time, during a particularly heated make-out session in the back of the class, your history teacher’s patience finally snaps. “Mr. Sim, could you kindly relocate yourself to the front of the room? Some of your peers are trying to learn.” Jaeyun barely suppresses a laugh as he grabs his things and saunters to his new seat. When he passes by your desk, he leans down just enough to murmur, “They’re just jealous,” in that teasing tone that makes your heart race.

All you do is exchange heated makeout sessions and quick fondles, but the more it happens, the more you crave him in ways that go beyond the tangle of your tongues. You start to push more and more when you guys hang out; grinding on his lap, marking his neck with hickeys, even palming him through his trousers, silently asking for permission.

It’s not just the kisses that make you want to take it to the next level though. It’s the way he looks at you like you’re literally the only person worth seeing in a crowded room. The way his laughter feels like sunlight on a cold day. The way he seems to know you - really know you - in a way that no one else ever has. He is your best friend, your everything.

Why wouldn’t you want him to have every piece of you?

You can tell he’s apprehensive. Not because he doesn’t want to have sex with you, in fact, you can certainly see how it’s the opposite. The whines and the frustrated groans as you both roll around his bed tell you how badly he wants this. But something else is holding him back.

He’s careful, always so careful with you. It’s not hesitation, it’s patience. The kind that comes from someone who believes there’s a million and one minutes to be shared with you. He knows you’re both still young, and in his eyes, forever stretches way beyond the both of you, allowing you endless opportunities to feel and explore one another in every detailed way possible. So why rush?

That doesn’t mean it’s easy for him, he just doesn’t want to risk pushing you and doesn’t want to make you feel like you have to give more than you’re ready to.

But it’s also undeniable how much he and his body are yearning for you. You see it in the way his eyes cloud over with desperation as you trail kisses along his jaw, hear it in the way he breathes your name like it’s both a plea and a promise. He’s aching to have you, to feel you in every way possible. Yet he’ll wait. For you. As long as it takes.

There is one thing, though, that he can’t wait to do.

Late on a random Wednesday night, your phone pings, tugging you away from the textbook sprawled open on your desk. Jaeyun’s name lights up the screen, and just like your phone, your face brightens. Normally, if he wasn’t spending the night, he’d be fast asleep by now - the boy is practically religious about his eight hours. The text is unusual, but not enough to send alarm bells ringing.

Jaeyun: are you awake?

Y/N: yeah, just studying. are you okay, baby?

Jaeyun: can i come see you?

Your chest tightens slightly as you exhale, that quiet calm you’d settled into now dissolving at his unexpected question.

Y/N: sure! i’ll sneak you in. everything okay? :((

The three dots of a reply don’t appear and your last message hangs there, unanswered, leaving your brain to start spinning its anxious gears. Why does he need to see you now? What’s so urgent it can’t wait for school tomorrow - or, at the very least, a video call?

Minutes feel like hours as you wait. The silence from him is deafening, and it’s so unlike Jaeyun that it sets your stomach twisting. He’s not the type to leave you hanging, especially knowing your overactive imagination rivals his own. He’s always careful with you, considerate of your worries. Yet here you are, left to wrestle with every worst-case scenario your brain can conjure.

Foremost among them is the thought of a breakup.

You and Jaeyun have been amazing - like something out of a clichéd teen romance; but even in a love story, things aren’t always perfect, and you know that. Still, nothing has happened recently that could explain this sudden, out-of-character visit. Nothing, at least, that you can think of.

The vibration of your phone jolts you, and you find yourself holding your breath as you glance down.

Jaeyun: out front x

The kiss. That’s a good sign…isn’t it? If someone was breaking up with you, you wouldn’t put a small ‘x’ at the end of a text.

Your heart pounds as you tiptoe downstairs, just as you had the very first date with Jaeyun. Except this time, there’s no bubbling excitement, only a mix of nerves and curiosity as you silently glide down each step, ensuring you don’t wake up your parents. You unlock the door with careful hands and pull it open, and there he is.

Clad in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, he stands there looking impossibly soft against the dark. His feet are adorned in the Timberland boots you - well, technically your parents - bought him last Christmas. His denim jacket, likely shrugged off for the walk, rests over his arm. His hair is slightly dishevelled, curling at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him look both boyish and heartbreakingly beautiful.

The sight of him standing there, illuminated faintly by the porch light, makes your breath hitch. Whatever reason he’s here, whatever words are about to leave his mouth, you know they’re important. 

“Hi,” he murmurs, his voice soft and subdued with emotions you can’t place.

You don’t reply, instead stepping aside to let him in. His movements are automatic, muscle memory from all the times he’s been here before. Although tonight feels different. Without so much as a glance back, he makes his way to the stairs.

You follow him, and the ascent feels like an eternity. Each step echoes faintly in the stillness of the house, the sound amplified by your racing thoughts and the need to stay quiet. What is with him? Your stomach churns with the kind of anticipation that resembles dread. Jaeyun’s shoulders are tense, you can see that as you’re faced with his back, his hands jammed into the pockets of his sweatpants. Normally, you’d be looking at the veins on his arms and begin to mentally remember each curve, however, this isn’t a moment you want to remember.

Or so you think.

When you reach your room, he steps in first, the familiar space suddenly feeling foreign to him as his mind bounces along his cranium with doubt and excitement. You shut the door quietly, twisting the lock with a soft click, and turn to see him already sitting on the edge of your bed, hands scrunching into the fabric of your teddy blanket.

“Jaeyun, what’s wrong?” you ask, your voice low and laced with worry. It’s so quiet the world almost doesn’t hear it - but Jaeyun always hears you.

He stops fidgeting, his hands resting limply on his lap as his gaze drops to his fingers. “I just…” He trails off, his voice cracking slightly. He begins tracing the lines of his palm like he’s counting his fingers, his movements slow and soothing. “I needed to see you.”

He doesn’t look up.

The weight in the room settles a little heavier now, pressing into your chest as you swallow hard. “Talk to me,” you urge softly, watching as his posture stiffens due to your words. His entire body goes rigid, and the vulnerability in his silence sends a pang straight to your heart.

Jaeyun has always been open with you, an easy book to read. His laughter, his thoughts, his heart - all of it handed to you without hesitation. Since the first day you met, he gave you the key to his emotional safe. So to see him like this, closed off and guarded, it feels so wrong.

You quickly close the distance between you, sitting beside him, close enough that your knees touch. “You can tell me anything, Jaeyun. I promise whatever it is we ca-”

“I love you.”

The words cut yours short like a sharp blade. Quick, almost too quick, and for a moment, they don’t fully register any of the syllables. You blink, stunned, as your own words fall silent. Probably not the best reaction to have but it’s all so sudden that your brain’s crossing some wires as it fights to say something.

Jaeyun’s eyes remain locked on his hands, but there’s panic in the tightness of his jaw, the way his fingers grip his sweatpants as if he’s bracing for impact. Yet, you remain silent.

Say something, you think. Anything.

“You…do?” The words leave your lips before you can stop them, fragile and uncertain. You did ask your brain to say anything, but perhaps a rebutting question about the genuineness of his confession isn’t the way to go.

He nods slightly, his head tilting to the side but still avoiding your gaze. “Of course I do,” he says matter-of-factly, even if it comes out between shallow breaths. “I’ve loved you since I met you, I think.”

His honest words hover stagnant between you, and they make your chest ache in ways you can’t quite define as black and white. It’s not an ache that feels like fear, though there is something scary about the three words - it’s more like the kind of ache that comes with holding so much joy in your hands and wondering if it’s really yours, if you can really grasp it and never let go. A holy shit, this is real, isn’t it? kind of ache.

It’s the kind of feeling that makes your throat dry and your lungs tighten, yet your heart swells all the same. It’s painfully beautiful.

You knew deep down. Of course, you did. How could you not? You’d seen it in the way he looked at you, felt it in the way he breathed out your name as though he would be happy with it being the last thing he ever said. Yet, hearing him say it out loud was entirely different. His confession, spontaneous and real, shakes you alive. 

And you feel it too. You love the boy who is nervously biting his lip as he waits patiently and apprehensive beside you. You love him so much that the world genuinely feels as though it can do you no wrong; the sun and moon align to create the perfect love casted eclipse.

So why can’t you just say them back? You’ve felt them for so long. You’ve dreamed of saying them - you’ve even practised in the mirror for when the perfect time arose. And yet here you are, struggling.

“Y/N?” His voice is soft, cracking slightly with the weight of the moment. “Please…say something.”

There’s a plea in his tone that makes your stomach churn. His eyes, usually so steady and confident, are now dimmed with hesitation. He’s bracing himself for you to shatter him with rejection and that gets your tongue moving.

“I-” Your voice falters. The single syllable hangs in the air, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. You’re killing him with the quiet, his heart thumping as it wishes to be anywhere but in this room with you, scared you’re about to take a hammer to it.

When Jaeyun decided to tell you tonight, it was impulsive - he knows - but his tongue and heart couldn’t help themselves. He loves you. He loves you like Jack loves Rose, like Gomez loves Morticia, and like his dad loves his mum. He’s so certain that although his feelings are scary, the most terrifying part is you not feeling the same.

You’re searching for the right words, but none seem worthy of what you’re feeling. This isn’t just love - it’s something bigger, something that spills out beyond the English language. But you know you need to say it, even if it doesn’t feel like enough. Because you need him to know, even a fraction.

“I-”, you begin again, finfing your voice, “I love you too, Jaeyun. The whisper comes out at last, and the words hit his chest like a fragile secret you’ve been holding onto for far too long. 

You just hope you said it with enough sincerity that he doesn’t doubt you. You would hate if he thought you were simply returning the words back to him out of obligation.

His head snaps up to meet your gaze, his dark eyes wide and searching, and when you see the way they light up, your heart nearly stops. He’s like a puppy seeing a bone, not quite believing it’s his but anticipating the treat.

Slowly, as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear, he cups your cheek. His palm is warm against your skin, grounding you in this moment that feels almost too perfect to be real.

“Really?” he breathes, fighting the smile until he hears you say it again. Half refusing to believe it.

“Yeah,” you murmur, a smile drawing itself across your cheeks. “Really, really.”

The tension in the air shifts. It doesn’t dissolve, but it changes - transforming into something softer, something heartstopping. You barely have time to register the shift before he’s leaning in, pressing his lips to yours.

His kiss is tentative at first, still testing the waters, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Soon, the tenderness gives way to desperate love. You can feel it in the way his body magnitises to yours, each cell of his body begging to be joined with yours. His hand moves to your waist, his fingers splaying against the fabric of your t-shirt like he’s anchoring himself to you.

Your hands, almost on instinct, clutch at the fabric of his white tshirt, pulling him closer. It’s not enough - fuck, he’s so close and yet it feels like there’s still too much space between you. Your chest presses against his, your breaths mingling as the kiss deepens.

“I love you so much,” you murmur against his lips, loving the feeling of the words falling so freely from your tongue.

Something in him seems to snap just as you finish the sentence because before you know it, he’s guiding you back onto the bed, his hand gently pressing your shoulder until you’re lying beneath him. The mattress dips under your weight as he hovers over you, his lips never straying far from yours.

The kiss shifts the atmosphere from relief to greed, growing hungrier, needier, and you feel his fingers tightening on your skin. The hand that had been on your shoulder trails upwards, his thumb brushing just below your jaw, tracing the delicate line of your neck. His hand is so big it encapsulates almost all of your neck, your pulse thruming against his palm.

It’s overwhelming in the best way. Your skin feels hypersensitive to every little movement. His lips leave yours eventually, trailing a path down to your jaw, then to the curve of your neck. You tilt your head almost instinctively, giving him better access as his mouth brushes your skin, and you feel the faintest hint of teeth grazing to tease you.

“Jaeyun,” you whisper, not even sure what you’re trying to say - maybe you just want to remind yourself that he’s there, that he is the one making you feel like you’re flying.

He pulls back just enough to look at you as your breathy moan calls out to him. His gaze is wild, unfocused, like he’s caught in some trance he can’t manage to break. But when his eyes meet yours, they soften instantly and you see the Jaeyun you know, his worry of pushing you too far settling to the front of his mind.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice hoarse as he starts to draw back. “I got carried away-”

“Don’t apologise,” you interrupt, grabbing the front of his shirt to stop him. His eyes widen slightly at your words, his lips parting as though he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. Instead, you cup his face, your fingers brushing over the bumps of his faint acne scars. “I want this,” you say, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “I need you. I have for fucking ever.”

The genuineness of your words seems to reach him, though, it doesn’t stop that nagging in his subconscious. He doesn’t want you to regret your first time, to make this decision because you’re riled up by the confessions. But as he looks into your eyes, he sees no hesitation, only pure love and want.

It only takes a moment before his lips are back on yours, his hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. His touch is gentle if not urgent, his lips soft and warm against yours. The sound of soft whines against your lips sends pleasurable vibrations down your spine. You need him, more than you did at the outdoor movie, more than literally any other time you kissed him. 

This feels different.

This feels like you’re completely in love.

His mouth trails down your body, not hurried but rather purposeful. He doesn’t remove your clothes just yet - instead he lifts your t-shirt to your breasts and begins kissing a gentle line from your valley to the soft curve of your belly. Once he’s reached his destination, his lips linger just where your shorts meet your hips, spending extra time just being there. 

The heat between you both is palpable. You instinctively shift your hips, a silent invitation for him to remove your shorts, but he doesn’t. Not yet.

He teases you, kissing along the line of your lower abdomen, his hands caressing your calves with slow, deliberate strokes. He knows exactly what he’s doing, drawing this moment out, making you ache for him even more. 

"Jaeyun, please don’t," you whisper, your voice a breathless plea as your eyes lock with his. His are half-lidded, already drenched in lust as his lashes graze his cheek, a twinkle of joy sparkling in the dim light of your room.

"Don’t what, baby?" he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss just under your belly button, his lips continuing their slow descent. His fingers brush against you, skimming lightly over your covered slit. You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily at the foreign feeling, eliciting a teasing smile to play on your boyfriend’s lips. “Don’t tease?”

His finger gains more stength as he applies some further pressure to your cunt, you clit screaming out for his touch. Surprisingly, he finds it even with the barrier of your shorts. You’re not experienced in this department but you’ve read enough magazine columns to know that men have a hard time with locating your precious gem.

Jaeyun must really just be perfect. Or lucky.

The soft moan that escapes you is a sound of pure need that you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in. Jaeyun’s grin widens with pride as he continues to rub your sensitive spot over your shorts, each movement coaxing another response from you.

“So fucking pretty like this, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady.

You haven’t seen this side of him before - the way he’s so in tune with your body, so confident in his touch. This is new to you, to both of you. The Jaeyun you know has always been playful, carefree, but tonight, he’s different - more in control.

What you don’t know, though, is that just a day before, he sought advice from his friend Heeseung about, well, everything. 

"Have any of you ever...you know...eaten a girl out before?" Jaeyun asks, his voice  laced with uncertainty. His friends snicker, but Heeseung, the more mature one, is the only one to respond with any real insight. He’s the only one with enough experience to even answer his question anyway.

"It’s all about listening and responding," Heeseung says, a knowing look in his eyes. "You’ve got to read the room. If you do something and she moans, you do it again. If she doesn’t like it, you try something else. It’s all about learning each other’s bodies."

Jaeyun looks at him with wide eyes, as though Heeseung has unlocked the mysteries of the female body. Heeseung’s advice becomes his guide, and now, it seems like he’s ready to put it into practice.

“How do i do it right though? You always see those tiktoks about girls blasting guys for not being able to get them off,” Jaeyun pauses, “what if I can’t?”

“You will, just listen to her, Jake. Let her control the situation without her even knowing she is.”

And that’s exactly what Jaeyun is doing now. He’s paying attention - listening to the sounds you make, reading every move of your body as if it’s the bible, every unspoken need his hymn sheet. 

He hears the soft whimper you let out when he pulls his fingers away, his own breath catching as he watches your thighs tremble. Without hesitation, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pyjama shorts and pulls them down, his movements desperate but deliberate.

His eyes darken as they settle on you, bare and exposed beneath him. A quiet moan leaves his lips, his restraint hanging by a thread. He’s see pussy before, through the screen of his phone as he jerkily pumps his cock in the midst of the night, but yours…fuck, yours is artwork. It’s like finally seeing the Mona Lisa in person. 

Right now, the only thing stopping him from burying his face between your thighs and devouring you entirely is the need to hear you say it. To know, without question, that you want this as much as he does.

"Can I?" His voice is low, clogged with need. The words alone send your brain into orbit and your hips lift instinctively, offering yourself to him, but that isn’t enough. He needs more.

"Use your words, baby."

"Please, Jaeyun," you whisper, breathless. "I need you so bad."

That’s all it takes.

His hands grip your thighs as he leans in, dragging his tongue between your folds in one single stripe. A deep groan rumbles through his chest as he tastes you for the first time. Honestly, he wasn’t expecting the tang to be so intoxicating, your slick making his buds dance with joy. He has a sneaking suspicion that he’ll get addicted to this. To you.

His lips envelop around your clit in a way that makes your entire body contract. He’s eager, but not rushed - at least he’s trying his hardest not to be. His tongue moves with purpose, seeking out every spot that makes your breath hitch.

"Yunnie…oh my god," you gasp, fingers threading through his messy brown strands, pulling roughly.  "Baby, don’t stop."

He doesn’t. If anything, your plea spurs him on. Heeseung’s advice plays in the back of his mind, and he follows it without hesitation. He listens, he adjusts, he learns. And when he hears the way you whimper when he flattens his tongue against you, when he feels the way your thighs squeeze around his head and muffle the world around him, he does it again.

Jaeyun groans against you, completely undone by the way you react to him. He’s so glad Heeseung sent him those videos, so fucking grateful he paid attention because now, he knows exactly what to do to elicit pleasure from you. And the fact that he’s the one making you fall apart like this? It only makes him hungrier.

His lips brush over your clit, his voice a husky whisper. "Baby…can I?" He traces a single finger along your entrance, waiting for the green light. 

"Do it," you manage to huff out, the need in your voice making his cock twitch.

He doesn’t make you wait either. He slides his middle finger into you, groaning at how tight you are, the feeling of your walls also not what he was expecting. It’s warm - obviously - but those ridges of your walls, the way the flutter even around a simple finger, it’s making him feel feral. "Fuck, baby…you’re gonna be so tight around me."

The stretch is new, different. You’ve never used anything more than your fingers before but his feel nothing like yours. His are longer, thicker, reaching places you didn’t even know existed inside of you. He curls his digit just enough to press against a soft spot inside and you have to cover your mouth with how loud you mewl out. He grins against your skin, pressing his lips back to your sensitive bud as he watches you wriggle under his orchestrated touch. He circles his tongue in slow, lazy strokes, his pace unhurried but devastating for you.

"More," you breathe, and the word alone puts him on the verge of losing it.

He doesn’t hesitate, slipping another finger inside you, and the when you’ve become accustomed to that, he adds another. He uses his nose to nudge your clit with every movement, his breath hot, his tongue relentless. He can feel it - your body tightening, signalling to him that you’re ready. And you don’t even realise it yet.

But he does. He knows you better than you know yourself.

"Are you gonna cum, Princess?"

Princess.

The nickname catches you off guard, but god, the way it rolls off his tongue has you spiralling into orbit.

"So close," you admit, anchoring yourself to earth long enough to know and understand what’s happening. Your voice is shaky as pleasure rumbles in waves, beginning to drown you.

Jaeyun drinks you in like you’re the last drop of water in the desert. His grip tightens, his movements never faltering. And when you finally come undone, his fingers don’t stop, his tongue still lapping up everything you give him.

Oh, he is definitely going to get addicted to this.

You’re panting, your hands still tangled in his hair yanking at his roots as your mind fogs with euphoria. Jaeyun begins to slow down his ministrations, not taking away a second of this from either of you. His eyes roll to the back of his head, savouring the last drops as they leak from your cunt.

He looks up at you, his lips glistening in your essence, his eyes soft yet undeniably starving. "You okay?" he asks, almost innocently despite the sin over his features.

"I’m fantastic," you huff out in a laugh, still trying to catch your breath.

Jaeyun chuckles, pressing one last kiss teasingly to your clit, making you shudder with that ache.

"Jaeyun…" you whisper his name so softly that it gets swept by the air circulating you both, a feather floating as love carries it.

He takes off his tshirt before slowly climbs up your body, his bare chest brushing against your skin, his face hovering inches from yours. "What is it, love?"

And that’s when it hits you. So suddenly. So earth shatteringly obvious. The overwhelming, undeniable realisation that there will never be anyone else. Not after this. Not after him.

You reach for him, pulling him into a kiss that’s deeper and more desperate than any that came before it. Your fingers thread through his hair, your body arching against his as you whisper against his lips, "Jaeyun, I love you so much. I need you."

He stills, his forehead pressing against yours as he takes in your words, his breath uneven as his mind jumps in anxiety and his cock leaps for joy.

"Are you sure, baby?" His voice is thick with restraint, his eyes pleading, hopeful. He wants this, but this is a big step for both of you. Giving you head is one thing but losing your virginity - he needs to make sure this is everything you want.

And you’ve never been more sure of anything in your life.

"I’m so sure, Jaeyun," you whisper, your hand slipping between your bodies. Your fingers trail over his slightly -toned stomach before slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. The direct contact of your hand around his dick makes his breath stutter, then completely stop as you begin to stroke him gently, feeling his weight and warmth. "Let me have every bit of you."

A strangled groan leaves his lips as his head falls back. His grip on your waist tightens, his body trembling under your touch.

"Baby, stop before I-" He catches your wrist, his voice strained. "I’ll cum in my pants if you keep doing that…at least let me be inside of you," His eyes are desperate, his body yearning out for you.

"Jaeyun-" you start to protest, but before you can finish, he pulls away just long enough to strip himself of his sweatpants and boxers.

Your breath catches at the sight of him.

His cock stands thick and hard against his stomach, the head flushed a pretty shade of pink. A prominent vein runs along the underside, disappearing beneath the ridge of his tip. He’s big - bigger than you expected - but all you can think about is how badly you want him. No - need him.

Jaeyun swallows hard at the sight of you on your knees, your legs tucked beneath you, your gaze locked onto his cock. The strap of your pyjama top has slipped down your shoulder, exposing the soft curve of your breast. The sight is enough to make his stomach tighten.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

He shakes his head clear of the lust-drunken state he’s in before leaning down to kiss you, capturing your lips with his once again. You’re so melded together that it’s impossible to tell where you end and he begins, your mouths moving together in a perfect, delicious rhythm.

He lowers you back onto the bed, his body settling over yours, his hand slipping between your legs once more. The moment his fingers brush over your core, your breath catches and your body trembles from oversensitivity. 

"Are you ready for me, baby?" His voice is soft, careful. "Or should I open you up some more?"

Jaeyun’s question was meant to be innocent - he really did want you to be ready for him - but in your heightened state, it was the filthiest thing he had said so far. You were too lost in sensation to string together a proper sentence, yet you knew he needed to be careful. The last thing you need is to walk out as a cast member of Teen Mom.

“Condom,” you manage to point towards the nightstand. “Second drawer.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches over. “Did you expect this to happen or something?” His tone is amused but the heaving of his chest shows how turned on he is, even just by the prospect of a condom.

You let out a breathless laugh, still coming down from the intensity of it all. “Got them at the doctor’s office when I was there. You know I can’t pass up a freebie.”

Jaeyun lets out a loud, genuine laugh, his forehead resting against yours for a moment before he presses a soft kiss to your lips, then, just as he opens the drawer, his hand stills.

“Y/N?” His voice shifts, a teasing lilt creeping in.

You prop yourself up on your elbows to see what caught his attention, only for heat to rush to your face as he holds up a small bullet vibrator between his fingers, a slow smirk spreading across his lips.

“Is this my competition?” He raises an eyebrow, his smile downright wicked. He knew you would have masturbated, but for some reason he just expected you to use your pretty fingers. At least, that’s the thought that got him through his own wank sessions.

You groan, shoving at his chest, embarrassed that you didn’t do a better job of hiding it. Jaeyun tosses the toy aside and leans in again, his breath warm against your lips.

“I’ll make sure you never need that again,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something impossibly low. “Only I get to make you cum from now on, yeah? You need to get off, you call me.”

A whimper escapes you, and the sound alone has his smirk deepening. You don’t doubt his words for a second. His expression softens as he tilts your chin up. “You ready for this?” His voice is a whisper now, careful to convey his sincerity. “We can stop whenever you want, okay?”

You swallow hard, nodding. “I’m ready.” It’s scary, all the warnings about how it hurts suddenly suffocate your mind. Why now? 

Jaeyun takes himself in hand, dragging the head of his cock between your folds, spreading your wetness before tapping it lightly against your clit. A sharp gasp leaves you, your body arching instinctively, suddenly forgetting about your worries. Oh, how simple your horny body is.

“Fuck, Jaeyun. Need you.”

That familiar wetness from earlier coats your thighs, the sheets, and him all at once. He keeps teasing you, watching the way you writhe beneath him, how you gasp and whimper at every slow drag of his length as his head snags on your hood and plays with your bud. Heeseung had told him it was important to make sure you were relaxed, that it would hurt less if you were wet enough. He’d even sent videos explaining it and for the first time, Jaeyun took interest in Biology.

Exhaling to steady himself, he lines up at your entrance. “Breathe out for me, baby,” he murmurs, his free hand stroking up your thigh. “And if it hurts too much, tell me and we will slow down.”

You nod, eyes locked onto his. “Okay.”

Slowly, he pushes his tip in. Your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, and he stills immediately, his thumb rubbing smooth circles on your thigh. “Princess, you okay?” His voice is tight, his concern cutting through his haze of arousal.

You nod, but he doesn’t move. Not until you say something. “I’m okay, Jaeyun.” You exhale, fingers trailing down his arms to reassure him. “Just give me a minute?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, nodding. He leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. But as he does, his cock slides a little deeper, and you wince as he moans out.

“Shit, love, I’m sorry,” he breathes, guilt flashing in his eyes.

Love.

He’s pulling out every pet name he can think of, and god, you love it. You pull him back into a kiss to let him know it’s okay, that the discomfort is bearable, that you trust him. The stretch even from his cock is a lot, but it is to die for. It sends you excitement racing ahead of the pain.

“This is really boosting my ego, y’know,” Jaeyun jokes, looking lovingly into your eyes as he lowers himself further, making his position more comfortable to hold. 

The laugh you let out is accompanied by an eye roll. Your boyfriend, so sweet and caring, knows exactly what you need to relax and distract you from the burn. Even as you laugh, you loosen up a little for him, allowing his cock some room to breathe.

“I’m glad, you should be very proud.”

“Bigger than that vibrator, huh?”

“Wait until you see my dildo collection.”

You and Jaeyun both giggle, placing lazy kisses over each other’s faces as you wash each other in love and adoration, each word, each look, each touch of your skin is securing the bond you share, nothing unable to tear it apart.

You take a deep breath after a moment and smile softly at your lover. “I’m good. You can go.”

Jaeyun nods, laying a final peck to your nose before moving slowly, deliberately, pushing in inch by inch. It’s new for both of you, but there’s no awkwardness, no tension - just quiet understanding, a deep intimacy that makes your chest feel impossibly full.

“Baby, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his forehead pressing against yours as he bottoms out. His eyes squeeze shut, his whole body trembling. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

You cradle his face, watching the way he’s completely unravelled, how he’s totally lost in the feeling of you. A surge of confidence swells in your chest. You’re doing this to him. You’re making him feel like this.

Your hips lift, finally doing some work as you silently urge him to move, and his eyes snap open, wild and dark with need.

“Princess… fuck,” he gasps when you clench around him on purpose.

You smirk, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “Is it good, baby?”

The second the words leave your mouth, Jaeyun lets out a strangled moan. His body tenses, his rhythm faltering, and before you can process it, he’s cumming. His jaw slackens, his breath stuttering as pleasure overtakes him.

If you could retain one moment for the rest of his life, it would be this - Jaeyun, undone, lost in euphoria, his chest rising and falling in heavy pants, sweat beading at his temple. He’s beautiful like this, more breathtaking than you’ve ever seen him.

His arms shake as he tries to hold himself up. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, cheeks flushing. “I didn’t mean to…that was too fast.” He could curse himself over and over again because why the fuck did he bust his load so quickly? His cock is his biggest enemy right now, embarrassing him by getting too excited too fast.

You laugh softly, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead. “Jaeyun, it’s okay. It was perfect.” And it was. You don’t expect your first time to last all night; just experiencing this with your boyfriend is enough for you.

But it’s not enough for the boy above you. His lips press into a plump pout, the one he always adorns when he’s dissatisfied. “No, I should have made you finish.” His eyes burn with determination, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Bab-”

One quick thrust knocks the words right out of your mouth.

The pleasure spreads through you in an instant, making your whole body jolt. “Jaeyun, you don’t have to-oh, god.”

He doesn’t slow, if anything, he picks up the pace, his fingers finding your clit.

“Princess, I promised I’d make you feel good,” he rasps, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m gonna make you cum again, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

Jaeyun has always been determined - when he sets his mind on something, he sees it through. And if his goal is to have you falling apart beneath him, he’s going to make sure he achieves it.

You try to keep quiet, mindful of your parents down the hall, but it’s impossible. The pleasure is too much, your moans spilling out uncontrollably. His thick cock kisses each bump of your walls so beautifully, any pain is washed away with pure ecstasy. 

Jaeyun smirks, rolling his hips in a way that makes you cry out. “Baby, you gotta be quiet.” His voice is teasing, but when he thrusts harder, pulling another loud moan from you, his smirk widens. “I know I’m good, but try.”

You can’t even muster a glare - too lost in the way he feels, in the way he’s taking you apart. You’ve suddenly found a new love for his stubborn need to achieve the best.

“Jaeyun…I’m so-”

“I know, princess. I can feel you.” His lips trail down your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on all your sweet spots. “Need you to cum all over me, yeah?” His voice is wrecked, his desperation bleeding through. “You love my cock, don’t you?”

“I love you.” The words slip out, tangled in a breathy moan but it doesn’t deminish the sincerity.

Jaeyun stills, his eyes softening, his smirk melting into something more tender. “God, I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much. I’ll love you forever if you let me.”

His movements grow more focused, more purposeful. He ignores his own overstimulation, his only goal to push you over the edge. “Baby, cum for me.” He brushes a thumb over your cheek, voice thick with adoration. “Just for me, give me everything.”

The intensity is overwhelming - the pleasure, the emotion, the weight of his love wrapping around you like a blanket. He is your soulmate, you know that now. 

Your orgasm crashes into you, shattering you completely. You barely register the sounds you’re making, Jaeyun swallowing them with a desperate kiss. And when it’s over, when your body trembles beneath his, Jaeyun holds you close, pressing lazy kisses to your skin.

His voice is a whisper, reverent. “Mine.”

First times in novels and films always seemed impossibly perfect - moments so breathtaking, they felt unattainable. But now, lying here in Jaeyun’s arms, those depictions feel dishonest, pale imitations of the reality you’ve just experienced. Nothing could ever compare to this. Nothing could ever compare to him.

You wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. And you wouldn’t trade Jaeyun for anything. He’s beautifully perfect.

As the lingering waves of pleasure subside, you open your eyes to find him already watching you, his fingers threading gently through your damp, tangled hair. He smiles, warm and adoring, and strokes his thumb across your temple.

“Princess, you did so well,” he murmurs, voice thick with tenderness. “I’m so proud of you. I wasn’t too much, was I?” His brow creases slightly, genuine concern written all over his face.

A sleepy giggle escapes you as you shake your head. “Never…I’m so in love with you, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” You pull him into a kiss, soft and unhurried, a contrast to the mess still lingering between you.

Jaeyun groans against your lips, then laughs as he pulls back. “Babe, I swear to god, I’ll cum again if you keep saying stuff like that.”

You grin, only half-aware of the way your body protests as he slowly pulls out. The emptiness he leaves behind feels unnatural, like something has been stolen from you. You don’t know how you ever lived before him - not like this, not without being completely wrapped up in him.

And now? You’re certain you can’t live without him.

Jaeyun hisses as he carefully removes the condom, then crawls off the bed, padding over to the bin. You take the opportunity to admire him, his bare skin still flushed, his muscles shifting as he moves, his perky ass so soft and pretty. That’s all mine, you think hazily, a lazy smile tugging at your lips.

He turns just in time to catch you staring. Tilting his head, he narrows his eyes playfully. “Y/N? What are you smiling at?”

You blink up at him, still dazed. “You,” you admit, voice soft. “Just…smiling at the fact you’re mine.”

A sudden shyness creeps in, and you cover your face with your arm, giggling. Never have you been so happy, your heart content and just filled with pure innocent joy at the idea of finding love like this. 

Already striding back to the bed and hovering over you, Jaeyun gently tugs your arm away so he can see your face. “Always,” he whispers, brushing his lips over your forehead. “I’m always gonna be yours. Until my last breath on this earth, I’m yours.”

The two of you stay tangled together, bodies pressed close, as the first hints of dawn begin to filter through the curtains. You don’t move. You don’t need to.

The world can wait. Right now, there is only Jaeyun. 

___________

To say everything is going well with you and Jaeyun over the past year and a half would be an understatement. You've never felt so deeply cherished or loved in your life - not by your parents, not by your friends, not by anyone. Only Jaeyun makes the world feel more vivid and bright, as if the saturation has been turned up just for you; the sun has a habit of making life look brighter like that.

Your eighteenth birthday party is tonight, something you’ve spent months planning. It falls perfectly after exams, giving you the excuse to gather everyone and let loose. Now, do you have an endless sea of friends? Not quite. But you have your group - the ones who stay through every season. The ones who have been there for your highest highs and lowest lows. But that doesn’t stop you from inviting half the year group anyway, just to make the party feel more alive. The more, the merrier.

The house hums with excitement as preparations fall into place. Fairy lights drape across the walls, bottles of drinks line the kitchen counter - supplied by your parents and Yeji’s - and music thrums in the background, setting the vibe for the night ahead. The air carries the scent of vanilla candles mixed with anticipation.

Ryujin and Yeji, your two closest friends, are with you as you get ready, their voices a steady hum in the background as you check your reflection for the nth time. The dress you chose is deliberate: a short, black, sleek dress with red lace edging the hem. It’s bolder than your usual style, more daring. A declaration of some sorts. 

“Y/N, you look amazing,” Ryujin says, appraising you with a knowing grin. “Jake isn’t going to be able to keep his hands off you.”

You smile, her excited words confirming exactly what you’d hoped. She doesn’t know you bought the dress for that reason alone - for Jaeyun to see a new side to you. There is something about turning eighteen that - at least for you - feels so…freeing, different. Like the girl standing in front of you is more than just plain old Y/N who does semi-badly in school and collects cute keyrings. Tonight, you are stepping into a new era and although you don’t quite know what that entails just yet, it thrums beneath your skin like electricity.

Yeji claps her hands, eyes alight with excitement. “Now, it’s time to fucking party.” She pours the three of you a shot, the bright lime liquid gleaming under the bedroom lights.

You take the glass, fingers tightening around it. This moment feels like like standing on the edge of a rooftop, wind in your hair, heart racing. You glance at your friends, their faces mirroring your own exhilaration and relief of letting their hair down. So, with a grin, you clink your glass against theirs and knock back the shot, feeling the warmth spread through you.

The night is only just beginning.

Hours later, the party is in full swing. The house is packed, your parents are nowhere in sight, the music pulses through the walls, and people seem to be having the best time, each making a point to wish you a happy birthday along with appreciative thanks for hosting. You should be enjoying yourself, it is your party after all. But there is one integral piece missing. Jaeyun is still missing. You glance at your phone for the hundredth time, staring at the text he sent earlier.

Jaeyun: be there soon, baby. can’t wait to see my girl! x

That was two hours ago.

“Hey.” A voice from behind pulls you from your thoughts, dragging your eyes from the bright screen as you turn. The sight of him steals your breath for a moment. Sleeked-back hair, perfectly carved features - he’s the kind of beautiful that makes entire rooms pause.

“I’m Sunghoon.” His voice is smooth, almost amused. “You’re the birthday girl, right?”

“H-Hey. Yeah, that’s me,” you manage, feeling unexpectedly flustered. “Thanks for coming.”

The moonlight slips through the windows, catching on the sharp lines of his face, the constellation of moles dotting his skin, the gleam of his canines as he smiles. He’s striking, hypnotic in a way that unsettles you. This is Park fucking Sunghoon. 

You have never spoken to him before, nor did you think he even knew that you existed until this moment. He is never one to turn down a party but he keeps to his friend group. He’s popular, bright, has girls fawning at his feet 24/7, and yet he’s speaking to you. 

Maybe this dress had more powers than you thought.

“You’re Jake’s girlfriend?” he asks, tilting his head slightly as his eyes dart the crowded room. “Where is he?”

Where is he? You’ve been asking yourself the same thing. He’s always with you, always on time. Always here. And suddenly, you miss him even more than ever.

You force a light chuckle, shrugging. “No idea, actually.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flickers over you, assessing the situation. When his hand brushes your arm, your body tenses involuntarily. You don’t move away, but something inside you twists, an unspoken warning sounding in your mind. Jaeyun, where are you?

Sunghoon notices your hesitance and merely nods, understanding your sudden apprehension. He’s not one to force it.

“If I were Jake,” he murmurs, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine, “I’d never let my pretty girlfriend stand alone at her own party.”

And then, as if to make a point, he leans in and presses a kiss to your temple.

He’s right, isn’t he? Jaeyun should be here. Shouldn’t you be angry and not wallowing, waiting for him? Instead, you’re swallowing another shot of Cherry Sourz - Jaeyun’s favourite, a habit ingrained in you. Yeji’s words echo in your mind, the ones she exclaimed enthusiastically a few weeks ago as you were planning the night. If you’re going to celebrate your 18th birthday, you might as well have no regrets.

So you do just that. Four hours in and your sense of time is gone, your head pleasantly light and airy, your body warmed by the alcohol and humidity of the packed house. Nine shots in, and you’ve forgotten what you were even upset about.

And then the air shifts.

Jaeyun walks through the door with Heeseung and Jay, his usual easy grin in place. He greets people in the hallway, his energy relaxed - until his eyes find you.

The smile fades. His body stills. His jaw tightens.

You, in that dress, your hair tousled from dancing, the flush on your cheeks. But most of all, the hands on your waist.

Sunghoon.

Jaeyun clenches his fists, inhaling sharply through his nose as jealousy laces through his veins like wildfire. He isn’t naive. He knows Sunghoon is dangerous - not in the way that means trouble, but in the way that makes him a threat. He’s handsome, perhaps the best-looking guy in school, and more infuriatingly, he’s interested in you. 

When he was getting changed for practice a couple of days ago, he overheard Sunghoon and his friend Sunoo talking about you. About his girl. Sunghoon was talking about you, describing how you’re really catching his attention lately, and he had zero quips about your relationship status as he said ‘I don’t think Jake is competition’. That riled up Jaeyun more because how dare Sunghoon see you as something of a prize that he could win.

Jaeyun moves before he can think. One moment, Sunghoon’s hands are on you, and the next, Jaeyun is there, pulling you flush against him as he slips his arms around your waist. He buries his face in your shoulder, the scent of your perfume dulling the fury roiling inside him. You always had a way of making him calm, even if you didn’t say a word.

“Baby,” he breathes, his voice soft but laced with possession. Sunghoon steps back, but the smirk lingers in his gaze, knowing Jaeyun feels even a hint of threat. “Happy birthday, my love.”

You should be furious. You are furious. But Jaeyun’s touch is grounding, familiar, something you’ve always craved. Still, the soft part of you that folds for your boyfriend any chance it can is being dropkicked out of your senses, alcohol now fueling you into anger.

And for the first time, Jaeyun might not be able to charm his way out of this one.

You brush his hands off, ignoring him as you continue your conversation with Sunghoon. Jaeyun is hurt. He understands why you’re acting this way - he let you down. Football practice ran far longer than he intended and there was literally no way his coach was letting him leave early, but that reasoning doesn’t make it any easier to watch you give your attention to someone else. To Sunghoon, of all people.

“Princess,” he whispers, the nickname curling off his tongue like a plea, begging you not to be too harsh on him.

You can’t ignore him anymore, your bones melting at his tone, yet, the alcohol has you rolling your eyes, a dry, exasperated sigh jolting out your lips. 

“I’m sorry I’m late, I feel like such a dickhea-”

“Good,” you snap before he can finish. Your voice is sharp, not loud, but it slices straight through him. “I hope you feel worse than that.” You turn to face him now, arms crossed tight, barely able to keep still with the anger running hot through your veins. “I waited for four hours, Jaeyun. Four. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is? Standing around like an idiot, making up excuses for you when people asked where you were? All so you could do what? Kick a fucking ball around?”

Jaeyun’s breath catches in his throat. You’re really fucking mad.

“And for all I know, it wasn’t even that,” you continue, your voice trembling with something heavier than just anger. “Maybe you were with someone else. Maybe football was just an excuse.”

That makes him still, his spirit leaving his body completely. Cheat. That’s what you’re implying. That word, even unsaid, shatters something in him. 

His stomach knots painfully, bile rising in his throat at the mere suggestion. It feels like a slap, like a betrayal, even though he’s the one being accused. How could you think that? How could you even consider it? Had he not been obvious enough? Had he not loved you loudly enough? The thought alone makes him sick.

“Baby,” he exhales, forcing himself to stay calm, to keep his voice even despite the panic pressing against his ribs. “No. I swear, I was at practice. The coach wouldn’t let me leave-”

“Whatever, Jake.”

It’s not the words that cut him open. It’s the name. Jake.

Everyone calls him that. His friends, his teammates, teachers, even strangers. But you? Never. Not since the day he told you he liked being called Jaeyun better, especially from your lips. It was something small, something intimate, something that belonged only to you. But now, you’re just like everyone else.

“Go enjoy yourself,” you say coolly, turning back to Sunghoon. “I’m in the middle of a conversation. Can’t you see?”

Jaeyun follows your gaze, his jaw clenching when he sees the satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of Sunghoon’s lips. The guy looks pleased with himself, like he’s already won the game he’s been planning all along.

Jaeyun’s hands curl into fists at his sides as he walks away, defeated and charged with anger he doesn’t think he has ever felt flow through his bloodstream.

___

An hour or so later, he watches as Sunghoon shifts closer to you, his fingertips barely grazing your arm, his voice dipping lower as he says something that makes you laugh, tilting your head back just enough for it to sting. That laugh belongs to Jaeyun. He knows every version of it - the soft, sleepy one in the mornings, the unrestrained one when you find something so hilarious, the breathless, lovesick one you give only to him.

Except, tonight, you’re seemingly giving it to someone else.

He should walk out. He should let you cool off, let himself cool off. But when Sunghoon leans down, his lips dangerously close to yours, something inside Jaeyun snaps.

Without thinking, he strides forward, his arm sliding around your waist, tugging you against his chest before Sunghoon can move any closer. His lips find the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. It’s an act of possession, yes - but also a silent apology, a plea for you to stop this, to stop hurting him.

“Baby,” he murmurs, stretching the syllable out deliberately. He knows what it does to you. Knows you can’t ignore the sultry tone. “Can I give you your present now?”

You almost melt into his touch, the way he breathes out the petname makes your knees weak, and the press of his plump, pink lips on your neck makes you almost forgive him. But unfortunately for you, the shots are infiltrating the sensible part of your brain, no longer thinking clearly.

“Is it to leave me alone? Because I would love that.” You spit at him, causing the boy to loosen his grip and fall back slightly.

As soon as you turn around to look at him you instantly regret the words that escaped your lips. Jaeyun’s eyes are wide, his brain working overtime as his chest moves heavily, trying to calm his anxiety-shaken heart. 

The alcohol in your system is making you react in a completely opposite way to how you would. If sober you was alert she would be comforting Jaeyun and giving him a thousand kisses to apologise. But unfortunately drunk you is in charge and she is dangerous. 

“I need you to stop being so clingy, it's embarrassing.” Stop talking you scream at yourself, “Can’t you see I’m talking to someone?” For the love of god please shut up and apologise. 

Jaeyun doesn’t move. Transfixed with hurt at your pointed words. You know his insecurity when it comes to being clingy, often told from everyone how he is too much and too overbearing. Yet, you never thought that, not once.

Well, until today apparently.

“Oh.” It’s the only word that leaves his lips, and then suddenly, his expression shifts, his lips curling into something that almost resembles a smirk - but there’s no humour in it. Just something bitter, something cold. He nods, tongue pressing into his cheek before letting out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

“Hope you have fun fucking him.”

The words are low, venomous, and before you can even process them, he’s turning on his heel and walking away.

Your heart lurches. You’ve fucked up big time.

“Jaeyun,” you call after him, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even turn back to see how close you are. You push through the crowd, your heels clacking against the floor as you reach for his wrist, pulling at him. “Babe, please.”

He yanks his arm away as if your touch burns him as he continues his way out of your house and beginning his descent home. He can’t fucking believe this. Any of it.

“I’m sorry,” you rush out, breathless. “I didn’t mean it, Jaeyun.”

“Mean what?” His voice is low, but it holds an edge sharp enough to cut. “That I’m clingy? That you’d rather talk to Sunghoon? That you think I would ever cheat on you?”

The anger in his voice is a quiet thing, controlled, but it shakes you more than if he had yelled. You’ve never seen him like this. Never heard him sound so…broken.

“Okay, yes, I was late for your birthday, and believe me, Y/N, I am so fucking sorry. I tried to get away, and I couldn’t. But you? Flirting with him right in front of me?” His voice tightens, and he runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “That’s a low I never expected from you.”

Your stomach knots. Shame creeps up your spine. Because he’s right. You knew exactly what you were doing. You bite your lip, willing yourself not to cry, not to fall apart in front of him. You want to reach for him, to kiss him, to take it all back. 

But the alcohol makes you reckless. Makes you cruel. It makes you not see sense.

“How am I supposed to know you aren’t going around with other people?” The words slip out before you can stop them. For fuck sake Y/N. Control. Your. Self. “Half of your football team was here on time, but suddenly the coach only wants you to stay behind? Fucking funny, that, isn’t it?”

Jaeyun lets out a humourless laugh, shaking his head. “I fucking love you, Y/N. That should be enough for you to understand I’m not fucking anyone behind your back.” His voice softens slightly, but it’s strained, exhausted. “Do you not trust me? Have I ever given you a reason not to?”

Silence. He’s met with silence from your end as you stare blankly at him.

And that makes him furious. He had an ounce of faith you would deny it, to ensure him that you do trust him and none of his previous actions have ever made you doubt him or his love for you.

His jaw clenches and he swallows hard before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small, gift-wrapped box. The black box with a white ribbon looks less celebratory than it does pitiful now. With a sharp, forceful flick of his wrist, he throws it at your feet.

“Happy fucking birthday, Y/N.”

You flinch as the box lands with a soft thud. If only you had kept your fucking mouth shut all of this wouldn’t be happening. Tears wouldn’t be flowing down your cheeks and Jaeyun wouldn’t be feeling his heart break down into a million pieces.

Your hands tremble as you crouch down, fingers fumbling as you unwrap it slowly. Inside, nestled carefully, is a gold sun-shaped necklace with a rose quartz centre. Handmade, delicate. The date engraved on the back isn’t your birthday. It’s the day you first met.

Your throat and eyes feel like they are on fucking fire.

And by the time you lift your head, Jaeyun is gone.

He’s gone.

For the first time tonight, you feel completely and utterly sober.

___

You stand before Jaeyun’s front door, your breath uneven as your fingers tremble around the small black box in your grasp. The night air is biting against your skin, but the heat of regret burns hotter inside you. Each step you took here had been slow, your legs growing heavier with the thoughts circling your mind. But as much as guilt and sadness eat you up, you need to make things right. You cannot lose Jaeyun over this.

So, you don’t hesitate and your fist begins to pound against the wood with urgency, not caring who it woke up in his house.

You hear his footsteps almost immediately, quick but fed up, each one thudding against the stairs inside. His voice comes first, irritated but muffled through the door.

“Oh, my days-” he groans. “It’s like three in the bloody morning. What do you want?”

The lock turns before he’s even registered who it is. But when he sees you - red-faced, chest rising and falling too fast, dress bunched up at your thighs so short you might as well be wearing a belt to protect your dignity, tears spilling freely - it makes his entire body stiffen. 

“Y/N?”

You break.

It starts with a sharp inhale, a choked sob forcing its way out, and then suddenly, everything you’ve been holding in rushes forth.

“Jaeyun, I’m such a fucking idiot,” you cry, the words tumbling over each other in your haste to get them out. “I don’t even know why I said what I did - I know you would never cheat, I’ve always known that I was just drunk and - and stupid, and I was so mad that you were late, but it wasn’t even a big deal, not really, and I-” Your breath hitches between sobs. “I love you so much, please don’t break up with me.”

The pleas and explanations come out so fast that there is a delay from your lips to his brain. The silence between you leaves the words to marinate and your guilt to rise up again. Saying it outloud, how you acted like a baby all because he was late, really isn’t how you want to start this ‘new mature era’. 

You don’t know what you expect. Maybe the slam of the door, another dent in your pride. Maybe for him to look at you with the same intense fire in his eyes that he had hours ago. Maybe for him to tell you to fuck off back to your party which you consequently left behind because pretending to be happy in a room full of people you don’t know sounds less appealing than being sad in the presence of someone who knows you.

But Jaeyun just stands there, eyes softening as the corners of his lips lift into the smallest smile - fond, understanding, forgiving, like he’s already made peace with this somehow, even though he was the one that got hurt.

“Princess,” he murmurs affectionatley, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you in an almost crushing embrace.

The warmth of him is immediate, all-consuming. He smells like bitter citrus and patchouli from his perfume. He smells like home. His embrace is tight, unrelenting, like he’s scared that if he lets go, you’ll slip away.

“I will never break up with you, baby.” A kiss to your forehead, lingering. “I’m not angry at you.” A kiss to your temple, reassuring. “I’m sorry if i’m too clingy.” A kiss to your cheek, gentle. “I love you so much.” A kiss to your lips, slow and unhurried, letting each sentence sit with you as a reassuring linger. 

You let yourself melt into him, hands clutching at his bare chest, grounding yourself in the steady rhythm of his heart against your own. The idea of never being able to hold him like this again haunts your anxiety; you almost lost him.

When you finally pull back, you shake your head, adamant that he has no reason to apologise. “You aren’t clingy, Jaeyun. I’m just an idiot.” Your voice wavers. “I love when you’re like that. I love it all the time. I was just…mad that you were late.”

He nods, biting his lip in thought - a habit of his you’ll never quite get over.

“I’m sorry I was late.” His forehead presses against yours, his breath fanning across your lips. Up close, you can see the remnants of tears in his eyes, the same way he sees them in yours. The weight of tonight sits on both of your chests, but the silence isn’t suffocating. It’s understanding. You both know there was better ways to handle the situation.

You don’t speak. Neither does he. You just look at each other, wordless, as if afraid saying anything more will break whatever fragile peace you’ve finally reached. Both of you are so scared of having the others heart ripped from your grasp.

Then, after a moment, Jaeyun leans in again, pressing another kiss to your lips, deeper this time, his hands finding purchase at your waist as he slowly guides you backwards into the house.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers against your mouth.

You nod, barely parting from him. “Okay.”

He leads you up the stairs quietly, careful not to wake his parents - though, it’s a miracle they slept through everything - shutting the bedroom door behind you as softly as he can. His room is only lit with the warm glow from his bedside lamp casting pretty shadows across his walls. 

Jaeyun looks down and notices the small black box still clutched in your hands.

“Did you like it?” His voice is hesitant, almost boyish. He spent so long picking out the perfect piece for your birthday. The sun represents everything you are to him. Bright, warm, electrifying, and his motivation to keep going because no matter the cold and rain that come, the sun will always come out to wash it all away. 

You follow his gaze, then nod as you left out a breath. “I love it,” you whisper. “Can you put it on me?”

He nods without a word, taking the box from you and carefully undoing the clasp. “Turn around, Princess.” 

You do as he says, your back to him, lifting your hair out of the way as he fastens the delicate chain around your neck. The gold is cold against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. But the chill doesn’t last, because before you can even react, Jaeyun’s lips press against the nape of your neck, featherlight and tender.

Another shiver racks over your body, but this one has nothing to do with the cold.

“Jaeyun,” you murmur, turning to face him. Your fingers trail down his chest, his toned stomach, stopping just above his waistband. Only now do you realise he’s only in his black boxers, his skin still slightly damp from his earlier shower. “Let me make it up to you.”

His breath stutters.

You glance up at him beneath your lashes, fingers toying with the lining of his underwear, waiting. His jaw tightens and his head tilts back oh so slightly, exposing the sharp lines of his apple. He wants this. You can feel it in the way his muscles contract beneath your touch, in the way his lips part ever so slightly, his breathing coming quicker as he processes your words.

“Baby, I don’t need you to do that.” Jaeyun’s heart is beating fast as you trace the outline of his cock with your pointer finger. He’s trying to defuse this situation without hurting your feelings. 

Trust, it’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s the opposite. But he doesn’t want to take advantage. Your emotions are pent up high, you might be feeling like you are obligated to do this as some sort of consolation act - also paired with the fact that you’re drunk - it doesn’t really mix well in his stomach.

“Y/N, I forgive you, there is no need to-”

What he isn’t aware of is that you aren’t listening to him, not a fucking syllable, because yes, you might be tipsy - mostly sober from the walk and adrenaline in your veins - you are also horny and need to just feel him. To be close to him. 

And how much closer can two people get with a cock and a mouth?

Your hand trespasses his boxers and begins to lightly stroke his shaft, making him mutter an almost inaudible ‘fuck’, his lip finding it’s way between his pretty teeth.

Once you see him give way to apprehension, you use your free hand to guide him to sit on the gaming chair, letting him fall back with a thud as he tries to focus on balance rather than your hand wrapped around his growing member. 

“Relax, Jaeyun. Let me do this. I need to taste you.” Your voice is low and has a hoarseness to it that lets him know you’re more than needy. He could cum right there and then as his mind conjures up images and fantasies of what you’re about to do. 

You slide his boxers off, slapping the side of his thigh so he will lift his bum off the chair. “I’ve missed your cock so much.”

Jaeyun laughs at that, huffing it out with a breath he was holding in, obliging to your request. “We literally fucked yesterday.” 

“Technically,” you point at the clock sitting coincidentally on his desk as it reads 3:27am, “it was 2 days ago. And I didn’t even get the celebratory cliche birthday sex.” 

Pouting, you look up at him in an almost begging gesture, knowing the scene in front your boyfriend is enough for him to shutdown and implement meltdown mode. You are so beautiful in every way to him - even spite of the tear-stained cheeks and mascara smudging - but right now you look so deliciously irresistible.

His hand comes to cup your cheek as his thumb wipes away some of the running makeup from your face, his gaze locked onto yours with admiration and pure love. It’s so innocent despite the lust weaving into his blood. 

“You’re so lovely” he whispers, smiling gently at the love of his life. “Lovely people deserve to get fucked on their birthday, yeah?”

There it is, the Jaeyun you were waiting for. And the permission you needed to take his cock in your mouth. With a smirk, you kiss his bell before engulfing it, letting the taste of him simmer on your buds.

It catches him off guard and his hands instinctively move to your hair, gripping like a lifeline. “Fuck, Princess you’re so beautiful like this.” He looks down at you with hooded eyes, admiration and desire flooding his pupils as they dilate, love evident. 

You bob your head up and down, going faster with the praise. Each time you work your lips up his length, you swirl your tongue around the tip, dipping into his slit every second time to create a teasing and torturous rhyth. You know everything that make Jaeyun feel pleasure; every vein that’s more sensitive than the other, every flick of your tongue or tantalising bite of your teeth just to keep him on edge. 

Over the past few years, you’ve learned and memorised each other's bodies, likes and dislikes. You are convinced no one could ever know you the way Jaeyun does. Not in body and certainly not in spirit. 

A few weeks ago you walked in on Jaeyun jerking off, phone in hand and ass levitating off his bed as he lost himself in the pumps of his fist. Once his eyes locked with yours, he threw his phone away and apologised a million times. You’re not the type of girlfriend that has an issue with her boyfriend watching porn, you have obviously done it too sometimes, like if he’s away for the weekend to football training. Jaeyun watching porn wasn’t exactly shocking or upsetting.

What you did feel though was curiosity. As you picked up the phone, the girl was giving overly enthusiastic head, gagging and dribbling as the man fucked his cock into her mouth. You have never done anything like that before, Jaeyun always holds back thrusting his hips up so as to not cause you pain or discomfort. 

But seeing the lewd act on the tiny screen…you wanted it.

So today, you were going to give him everything you got. Apologies can’t be half-arsed, right?

You smile and lift your bum from your feet so your mouth is hovering over his cock at a higher angle, trying. Smirking, your eyes meet his and you take his full length in your mouth, gagging as the tip breaches the back of your throat, kissing your tonsils like they were long lost lovers.

“Baby, be careful,” he hisses, gripping your hair as he tries to pry you off. Jaeyun is always attentive, always caring, but right now you need to see him lose control. 

So, despite his attempts to separate you from his shaft, you don’t budge, Rather, you sit with his dick in your mouth and swallow, closing your throat around his head - a trick that wasn’t easy to master, many attempts on a plastic dildo failed, but you knew you had to try. 

And thank fuck you did because as your throat pinches the tip and it sucks at his slit, he moans so loudly you’re scared his parents will hear from their room. He groans, legs elivated slightly as his body tries to reach the pearl gates, not understanding that heaven is between his legs right now. He has never felt anything like this before.

“Fuck, baby, where did you learn that?”

Instead of giving him an answer, you work your mouth up and down his cock again, not giving him that euphoria again and only teasing it every so often. You can’t let him get used to it, not just yet. You have a funny feeling that this will come in handy for the years to come, a bargaining tool of sorts.

You pinch his thighs a little, eliciting a his from his mouth and a jerk from his hips. Jaeyun slams his cock into the back of your throat, unforgiving and totally by accident. He’s so gone in the haze of your warm mouth enveloping him that he takes a second to realise what he done. 

“Shit, baby, I’m so sorry,” he apologises, resting his ass back on the seat and patting your head to soothe you. Yet, surprisingly, you don’t protest or grumble - you simply moan, trying to let him know that's what you want, what you need. 

So, you pinch him again and thankfully, he gets the memo. “Oh? Does my baby want me to fuck her pretty little mouth?” His tone is cocky albeit breathless in composition, his semi-fucked out flush only adding to his filth.

You’re dripping at even just the thought and hum around him in acknowledgment, the vibrations going straight to his heart. 

He leans down and pulls you off his cock gently, a fist full of hair that could easily hurt you, yet, his touch is so tender the roots hardly yank from the scalp. “Tell me you want it. Say it.”

You blush, biting your lips together as you gather the courage to utter the words into the heated air. You’re confident, especially around him, but there’s something so vulnerable about wanting to be used like that, that makes it a little harder to speak. 

“I-I want you to fuck my throat until I can’t speak anymore.” 

A groan leaves his body and his jaw tightens in primal desire. You’re perfect. He will never understand where you came from, or how he has the honour to live out this lifetime with you, but he is so thankful and makes a silent promise to anyone above that he will never ever take it for granted. “If it gets too much just tap my leg three times okay, baby? No matter what. If it hurts, if you need air, let me know,” he mutters into your lips as he kisses you gently. It's so tender and loving. But you know you’re about to get a completely different Jaeyun in two seconds.

You could not be more excited.

Standing up, he squeezes your cheeks with his middle finger and thumb to get your mouth to open once again. His dick is red and frustrated, multiple veins protruding around the shaft. You’re starving for it even though you’ve been devouring him for the past 15 minutes - that’s just how addicting he is. 

Placing his cock in your mouth you take him all in as he slowly thrusts. You can see he is trying to be gentle, testing the waters of how much you can really take. Sometimes, your eyes are bigger than your belly, and he has no problem giving you just enough to satusufy this craving without overfeeding you.

But he is going too slow, too careful; so you meet his thrusts, sucking up and down at an altered timing so his cock jabs your throat forcefully.. 

“My baby,” he breathlessly moans, watching you work for more. As much as he loves to see it, for both of you to truly experience this for all that it should be, he needs to let go of his apprehension of hurting you and just give you everything he has.

He picks up the pace, his tip battering against your throat with fervour - and you love every second of it. You hum in pleasure around him as he pounds faster into your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head as each thrust indicates the loss of control from the boy powering over you. 

“Y/N you’re so fucking good to me, such a perfect girl,” he moans from the depths of his chest and his thrusts become erratic, sloppy, as he gets closer to his high. Your mouth is a miracle worker but your throat is a devine intervention. He can feel the stretch of your canal around him, barely fitting him in as you gag and gurgle.

Your hands reach around to to his ass and squeeze, causing him to sink further into you - if that is even possible. The tip of his cock is sitting in the middle of your throat, like a caterpillar waiting to bloom into the butterfly it’s destined to be. 

That’s when you try to swallow again - although with some difficulty - and clamp around him. Your boyfriend’s reaction is immediate as he hunches over, fingers twisted in your hair as he roars out in pleasure. “Jesus, fuck…fuck!” 

He quickly draws you from his cock, taking a few steps back himself just as you were about to taste the sweet tang of his cum. Your anxious nerve peaks once again, scared that you’ve done something to upset him or taken it too far.

“Jaeyun what’s wrong?” Your voice is as steady as you can make it as you utter the question.

Every perspective, he sees your worried stare and shakes his head. Within a second, he is bent down so you are eye level, patting your hair in a reassuring gesture. “I need to cum inside you, princess, that’s all. You did so fucking well…you’ve been holding out on me all these years.” 

His words which are laced with humour and certainty calm you instantly, body no longer running cold with regret or guilt. Cupping your cheek with his roasting palm, he slowly guides you both up to stand, his mouth never leaving yours as his tongue strokes yours messily. He breathes new life into you, beautiful and serene.

“Such a pretty dress,” he states admiringly as he lays you down on the bed. “As soon as I saw you in it I knew I had to fuck you while you wear it.” Jaeyun hikes up the dress so it sits above your hips, exposing your red underwear, his favourite. “All for me, yeah?” His fingers lightly graze your slit over the lace. 

“Everything is for you,” you exhale earnestly, a smile etching onto your face as you take in his puffy features. He looks so delicate and vulnerable, wearing all his emotions on his skin. 

The loving confession makes his heart swell in his chest. He loves you with every fibre of his being and he will until the end of time. 

Pushing your panties to the side, he slips his finger between your folds, not quite pushing inside of you but teasing - much to your dismay - and he can feel just how wet you are. It’s like he’s just set off a firehydrant in the summer; and he is more than ready to get soaked beneath it.

Just as he goes to slip his middle finger inside of you, you grab his wrist, whining and shaking your head, pausing him in his actions.

“Just fuck me, Jaeyun. Please.” Your eyes land on his cautious ones. He hasn’t prepped you yet and you both know it’s already a struggle to make him fit when he’s stretched you open, nevermind plunging in without some semblance of stretch. “I can’t wait for your cock any longer.” Frustration is laced within every word and your body acts as a tangible demonstration of your need as it writhes or some attention.

Seeing you so depserate, Jaeyun can do nothing but yield to you, nodding as he immediately takes a condom from his stash and slides it on with urgency. His sensitive tip colliding with the rubber makes him wince. With the way you’re splayed out below him, mixed with the cum sitting right at the barrel of his dick, he’s not convinced he wont bust as soon as your tightness encapsulates him.   

Nevertheless, he looks for lube but can’t find his usual tube, the crystal blue bottle evading his sight. 

You watch him search, frustration building as time ticks by. Impatient and leaking, you take the opportunity to shuffle down on the bed, grab his cock, and guide it to your entrance. 

Whipping his head around, Jaeyun has shock plastered on his face, but it is quickly switched to one filled with pure lust as you push down on his tip. “Princess can’t wait ,huh?” His question is rhetorical and mischievous as he relishes in how worked up you’re getting.

You eagerly shake your head as you push him in further, the bell sinking past your hole and opening you up for the rest of him. The stretch isn’t as painful as you thought due to how turned on you are, your walls so fucking eager to be filled that they glad accept his presence. 

“You’re the death of me, Y/N,” your boyfriend moans as he pushes himself fully into you, bottoming out slowly, still cautious of causing you pain.

“I need you to fuck me so bad, baby,” you mewl in a high pitched breath.

And who was he to deny you? It was your birthday after all, even if it wasn’t technically within the time frame. The blur between the late night and early morning allowing you both to still celebrate together. 

His hips begin to quicken, ass tightening with each sharp thrust as he pierces right through you. Your back is arched off the bed as he grips your hips and picks you up, hitting at that angle he knows gets you to the peak of your mountain. 

“Right there, baby! So, so good.” Your encouraging words spur him on to find a smooth albeit forceful rhythm as he jackhammers into you. His bed snapping against the wall with his brutal force.

He hovers over you, one elbow on the bed to hold him steady while his free hand pulls at your dress and yanks it down, exposing your bouncing tits. He gasps at the sight; jiggling and inviting, faint red marks from the last time he marked your body with his signature. 

For some reason, his mind takes him back to the party - how Sunghoon’s hands were all over you, touching you and trying to claim you. It makes him mad, hurt, down right deranged. 

He will never let anyone touch you every again. It’s only him. It will only every be him.

“Tell me I’m the only one,” he mutters as he kisses your neck, vulnerability goosepimpling over every part of his skin. To think that you could be taken away by someone else makes his heartbreak, he needs the reassurance, the promise, that you won’t leave him.

Bringing his head up and cupping his cheek you stare lovingly into his eyes as your guilty ones gaze back. “You’ll always be the only one. I don’t want anyone else. I need you. Only ever you.” 

Jaeyun’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he practically growls at your words, picking up the pace again, hammering into you all of his love and staking claim over you. You are his and he is yours. 

You’re trying not to moan loudly but he’s hitting all the right spots and it’s got you gasping for air, your lungs begging for a lick of oxygen that has been stolen due to your boyfriend’s touch. His hands are roaming your body, gripping and grasping at every part of you as he grounds himself with the feeling of you. The action will leave bruises and he’ll apologise in the morning but right now he just needs to feel you.

“Even if Sunghoon wanted you?” he asks quietly, still feeling that anxiety sit at the tip of his heart. He believes you, he knows when you say that he is the only one you want - you mean it. But his head speaks before he can stop himself, craving constant reassurance despite his trust in you.

You shake your head immediately. Never for a second would you even spare any time of day for the other, not when you had Jaeyun. You were going to have serious words with yourself once you’re done and curse yourself for even entertaining Sunghoon for a second - drunk or not. You made Jaeyun feel insecure, you’re the reason he’s doubting himself like this.  

“He could never love me the way you do,” you bring your lips to his ear, “and he certainly couldn’t fuck me the way you do.” 

Pure fire and passion rise through Jaeyun’s body and he piledrives into you at an unrelenting spead, eliciting a high pitched whine from your lips. He places your legs on his shoulders and drives in deeper, kissing your deepest crevice with the tip of him. 

“You take me so well, princess. I love you so fucking much.” Jaeyun might have been fucking you like he was a man possessed to ruin you, but his kind and nurturing personality will always come through.

He was perfect.

You clench around him, “Jaeyun, babe, I’m so close,” you pant out in ache as your nails begin digging into his arms, clawing at him to find some semblance of reality. You’re losing yourself to the stars with each stroke.

“Me too, baby.” he kisses you gently, “cum around my cock, show me how good I make you feel.” 

His dirty words strum the last string of your banjo as you come undone around his cock, your cunt squeezing and sucking him in like it needs him to be a permenant fixture inside of you. You chant his name into his neck as you bury your head, inhaling his scent as you finally lose yourself to your orgasm. 

Not letting up, Jaeyun still pounds into you, determined to fuck you though your high. “Good girl.” he mumbles into a kiss he plants lovingly into your hair. 

It doesn’t take long before he’s spilling into the condom, filling it up the way he wishes he could you. “Fuck, Y/N. I’m cumming, baby,” he bellows out, his grunts loud and swimming in an aching desperation as his hips still, holding you firmly onto him. 

Jaeyun’s lips move lazily against your damp skin, whispering soft I love yous in between the featherlight kisses trailing down your neck. He doesn’t want this moment to end - the warmth, the closeness, the way your bodies are tangled together in a haze of love and breathless exhaustion.

His hold on you tightens as he exhales shakily, his body shuddering as the last waves of pleasure run through him. His cock twitches one final time before he slips out of you, discarding the used rubber to his bin, aiming half-hazardly. He doesn’t like even this tiny bit of separation, so he quickly recovers, nuzzling against your chest, mouth ghosting over your heart as though he can soak in every ounce of love you have for him through the mere touch of his mlips.

Your fingers slip into his hair, stroking gently. “I love you, Jaeyun,” you murmur, voice still heavy with sleepiness and satisfaction.

Jaeyun lifts his head, his puppy brown eyes locking onto yours, filled with overwhelming love. Unwavering, unfiltered, and so deep that you can feel it crawl into your bones.

He smiles softly, almost shy, like he’s just as caught up in the weight of this moment the same as you. “I love you too, angel. So fucking much.” His voice is thick and before you can say anything else, he kisses you, slow and deep, sealing a silent promise between you both. “Let’s never fight again.”

You giggle against his lips, arms looping around his shoulders. “Never like that again.”

Just as Jaeyun presses his forehead to yours, basking your shared, tender moment, the door slams open.

“Sim Jaeyun, if you have a girl in here-”

Jaeyun’s dad’s voice cuts through the air like a knife, and time itself seems to halt.

Jaeyun yelps, moving at a record speed to grab the blanket and throw it over you to hide you completely, his body shielding yours from his dad’s intrusive gaze. Your entire face burns with mortification as you scramble to tuck yourself into the covers and laying still, wishing more than anything that the bed would just swallow you whole. You knew you were being loud but jesus fuck you thought Jaeyun would have at least locked the door.

His dad freezes in the doorway, eyes flickering between his son’s horrified expression and the very obvious lump beneath the blanket. 

“I told you, no girls in your room except, Y/N!”

Oh, the irony.

You peek your head out just enough to meet his gaze, offering the world’s most awkward wave. “Hi, Mr. Sim. How’s it going?”

Shocked, his dad stumbling back slightly. He was oblivious to your relationship even if he did have a sneaking suspicion. He just never thought this would be how he confirms it.

Jaeyun groans. “Dad, can you please leave?” His voice is strangled, his hands clutching the blanket for dear life. He’s always been so careful; made sure to be quiet, to lock the door, to never get caught. But you both just got too caught up in the moment that every other thing that existed outwith the two of you just…evaporated.

His dad pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. “How long have you…how long has this been going on?”

Jaeyun swallows, refusing to meet his father’s eyes. “Uh. Two years.”

“Two years?” His dad’s voice pitches slightly, incredulous. “You’ve been dating for two years and you never told us?”

You chew on your lip, feeling the heat of embarrassment settle over your skin. Jaeyun, sensing your discomfort, slides his hand under the blanket to squeeze yours reassuringly.

“Dad, we weren’t trying to keep it a secret,” Jaeyun says, voice calmer now, steady. “It just…happened. And then the longer we waited, the weirder it felt to bring it up.”

Mr. Sim scoffs, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. You know we wouldn’t have stopped you from dating, right?” His tone softens as his eyes drift back to you. “And Y/N-”

You stiffen slightly, bracing yourself whatever scolding he has in store.

But instead of a lecture, a small smile tugs at his lips. “You know you’re like the daughter I always wanted.”

Your chest tightens with fondness. You’ve always been close to Jaeyun’s family - you practically live at his house at this point. His parents know your favourite food and snacks - keeping an army of them in their pantry. They understand your weird little habits like having thin cutlery or a certain glass depending on the drink and temperature. They invite you over for Christmas Eve, they comfort you when you’re upset. They love you. And deep down, you’ve always known you had their approval.

Still, hearing it out loud makes your eyes sting.

“Thank you, Mr. Sim.” Your voice is small, but sincere.

He nods, before letting out a tired sigh as he turns his attention back to Jaeyun. “Alright, get some sleep. I’ll talk to your mum about this. Hopefully she wont burst in with wedding books.” The joke lands flat because all of you know that it is not a joke. Jaeyun’s mother is typically fond of you and all three of you know that if she can make you officially part of her family, she will do it in an instant.

Mr. Sim turns to leave but pauses, glancing back at you. “And Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Please tell your parents.” He raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure they’ll take it well…”

You open your mouth to protest, but he’s already gone, closing the door behind him.

For a second, there’s silence. Then Jaeyun breaks it with a wheeze..

“Oh my god,” he gasps, clutching his stomach as laughter shakes his entire body. “That was…that was-” He dissolves into another fit of laughter, eyes tearing up in hilarity.

But you fail to see the funny side as you smack his chest, mortified beyond belief. “I am never coming back here again.” You bury yourself under the blanket, groaning.

Jaeyun grins, pulling you closer. “You’re literally my girlfriend. You have to come back.”

“Not if your dad kills me first for waking him up.”

He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Nah didn’t you hear? You’re the daughter he never had.”

It tickles your heart as he mutter the words into your hair. Despite the embarrassment, your heart feels giddy - full. All the weight you’ve been carrying regarding the sneaking around and also the fight between you and the boy holding you close is all vanished. Gone. 

It makes you realise that you can overcome anything with Jaeyun.

You spend the rest of the night curled up in Jaeyun’s arms, tangled together beneath the sheets, whispering drowsy confessions of love until sleep finally pulls you under.

When you wake up the next morning, sunlight spills into the room, casting a golden glow over Jaeyun’s peaceful, smiling face. His lashes flutter slightly, his lips parted as he breathes in and out steadily. You watch him for a moment, warmth blooming in your chest like daffodils in spring.

Jaeyun’s phone vibrates at the desk and you quickly crawl over to retrieve it. You’re not one to pry but you see the seconder of the text before the content and immediately run cold.

Your mum.

2nd mumma: Your mum called and told me about you and Y/N. You are NEVER allowed to sleep over again, do you hear me? I am so angry that you both kept this from me

…Three dots appear. Then another message.

2nd mumma: I’m happy for you both. I love you. Come to dinner tonight so we can celebrate.

A small laugh escapes you as you snuggle deeper into Jaeyun’s embrace, letting the moment wash over you.

You’ve never been happier.

Lets hope you can keep it this way…

______

taglist: @yzzyhee @dollyyun @sunpov @dreamy-carat

@ioveseong @katarinamae @viagumi @jakeswifez

@shuichi-sama @m1kkso @no1likeneo @pshfan0812

@fancypeacepersona @hoonieyun @jaepen @lovingvoidgoatee

@parksunghoonsgf @capri-cuntz @yvnempire @mei3425

@enhastolemyheart @ikeulove @riribelle @nshmrarki

@firstclassjaylee @ikeuwoniee @ang0308 @jaykesgirl @addictedtohobi

[kisses4reid]

understand? pt. 1 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you’re a polyglot translator assigned to work for the bau in a cross-national case, and there’s a doctor who wants to impress you.

genre - fem!reader, SHE/HER r, fluff, meet cute, you know more than spencer and he’s attracted to that

warnings - you're both awkward, mentions of gross case file photos, little research about polyglots actually done so there are inaccuracies, cliffhanger for part 2.

w/c - 1.4k

a/n - thank you for the req anon!! there was multiple parts to this but i really like the first idea so that’s what this fic is about, might keep the other idea for later hehe. i did change some aspects. love you, thank you for the support <33 there will be multiple parts!!! stay tuned!!!

req - hi pia 💞💝🩷💓 how r u? i hope you’re feeling wonderful! this is my first time requesting smthg i apologize if i get something wrong! i’ve been having 2 thoughts about spencer x fem!reader, where reader is a russian translator and idk they meet cute or she has to work with the bau helping them on a case. just wanted to give these ideas to you, obviously feel free to do anything with them! i really enjoy your work and your writing is incredible! i have your notifications on so i am always reading whatever you post! have a great day pia 💝 lots n lots of kisses for u!

This was not what you expected. 

You, a woman in your late twenties that spent most of her time in a room listening to voices and decoding foreign messages, didn’t know what you expected. But this: a scary boss, an italian old man, and a skinny college kid, was not it. 

“Y/n L/n? I’m Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief, and this is Agent Rossi and Doctor Agent Reid.” 

You nodded your head, thick hair covering your top eyelashes as you glanced at the men. Agent Rossi shook your hand, and Dr Reid simply stood and gawked at you. To be honest, it made you worried. You had been warned this was a close knit team, that they trusted each other more than anything and that you shouldn’t get attached to any of them as you’d only be assisting them for one case.

Maybe they just didn’t warm up to new people. 

“I’ll do your formal introduction to the rest of the team now, if you’re settled down.” He asks cooly. You like the way his voice rasps, it’s assertive yet comforting. 

“Yes, of course. I can’t wait.” You smiled reassuringly at the unit chief, not ignoring the raised eyebrow you received from the silent young man now behind you.

Aaron Hotchner, your new boss for the next week or so, lead you to a large room with a circular table sat in the middle. There were two other women, one blonde and one raven haired, and another bald man that glanced at you immediately after you entered. They smiled at you and trailed your steps to where you stood beside the unit chief in front of a large TV screen.

“Everyone, this is Agent Y/n L/n. She’ll be assisting us with the Becker case you’ve all been informed of. She’ll mainly be our translator and interpreter, but she’ll also be useful for cultural identifiers and anything that we wouldn’t notice otherwise.” 

You nodded along, never being a fan of introductions since you moved to America as a small child. 

“This is JJ, our liaison, Agent Emily Prentiss and Agent Derek Morgan.” 

The ladies smiled at you, in fact all of them did. They were surprisingly open to the fact you would be joining them, the fact made your shoulders loosen and a breath to be let out discreetly. 

Next, you were on a long plane flight to Maine with Agents you had known for little under two hours, conversing about victim profiles and motives. The table in front of the ladies and your boss was strewn with victim files and gruesome photos. And while you weren’t a stranger to the dangers and violence the job brought, you had gotten comfortable with only hearing about it and not seeing it. So you opted to hover around the table and stay silent, you weren’t a trained profiler after all, just a translator.  

There was a wave of cologne that disrupted your senses, causing you to angle your head back, only to be greeted by the tall doctor. 

You smiled softly, assuming the closeness was due to the aeroplane's arrangement. Also because you got the vibe that Spencer didn’t like you. 

“Are you okay? You seem uneasy,” he asked. It was the first time you heard his voice. And it was as adolescent as you imagined for someone so young, but it had a sophisticated edge to it, with a honey-like undertone. Finding things in voices as if they were perfumes was something you unconsciously started to do since working as a translator.

“I’m fine.” You grinned reassuringly, turning back to focus on the team’s findings. 

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows slightly and stepped away, sitting down beside Morgan who had taken a seat at the back. Morgan squinted at his friend, noticing the rare confusion splayed on his face as he stared in your direction. 

“What’s up? Pretty girl got your tongue?” Morgan removed his headphones with a cheeky smile displayed on his handsome face.

“For someone who specialises in languages she doesn’t talk much.” 

Morgan smirked, “Maybe not to you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong though.” Spencer ripped his gaze off the back of your head.

“You’ve been staring at her since she walked through those doors. You were so distracted you didn’t even greet her this morning.” Morgan pointed out. Spencer tilted his head confused, a small blush creeping up his neck. “I watched the whole thing from the conference room, so did JJ and Emily.” 

The tall boy slumped in his chair and forced himself to look out of the plane’s window, avoiding a reply to Morgan as he knew it would only result in more teasing. You were physically attractive, everyone could see that, but the thing that caught Spencer’s attention was your intelligence. He was no stranger to being a polyglot, he learnt languages for fun, but you were simply next level. Morgan studied Spencer’s face for a second before raising his attention to your hovering state. “Agent Y/n L/n.” Morgan called, causing Spencer to widen his eyes and immediately adjust his slumped position in his plane seat. You turned your head in surprise, slightly confused why you would be needed anywhere else than the files you had been translating for the past two minutes. Your heels were silent against the carpeted floors, but Spencer could sense your presence anyways. 

“How many languages do you speak?” The stoic man asked, his eyes darting between you and the doctor below you. You were not short, your genes didn’t allow for it, but you had noticed you were only taller than JJ and Rossi in the team and it felt foreign to not tower over everyone. “Um, I speak 8 languages fluently, and 4 languages semi-fluently.” You stated, readying to turn back to assist the team before Morgan spoke up once again

“Did you know that pretty boy can speak Spanish and German?” 

Before Spencer could help himself, he corrected the man, “And Latin and Russian,” Spencer turned his head up to you, “But I can understand more.” 

You smiled, genuinely impressed and confused on how a man that young could learn that much. But to be fair, you were in the same boat. The nickname got your attention, locking it in the back of your mind to remind yourself that the people you were working with did in fact have senses of humour, and weren’t just heartless officers. There wasn’t any reason to think that though, as you had been cared for with respect and even Prentiss made a funny remark beforehand. It sort of felt like a family dinner you were intruding on. “That’s impressive, Doctor Reid.” You reply genuinely. 

“I mean it’s nothing compared to you though,” his voice was pitched slightly higher and his hands started motioning to nothing in particular, “your brain is constantly changing from high activity to low activity when you're translating from one language to another. Your language network, the lateral frontal lobe, is constantly lighting up and dimming down depending on what language you hear, ordinary people’s language networks only turn on and off.” 

Morgan smirked and glanced up at your intrigued and surprised expression. You nodded, a small blush coating the tips of your ears as you responded, “Thank you.” You didn’t really know what else to say, which is funny for someone who understands so many languages, so you simply smiled and turned back to the table. Spencer slumped again, watching you walk away and asking himself why he would inform a pretty girl about her own brain, when she most definitely already knows about it. 

“Don’t worry too much, Reid.” Morgan called, grabbing Spencer’s attention. The boy raised a brow, not understanding. “She digs it, I can tell. But she’s just like you, knows how to speak in a million ways and still doesn’t know how to small talk.” 

You landed without any more awkward interactions, and got introduced to some sheriffs in Maine, one of them giving you a tighter handshake than the rest and a stare that could only mean unpleasant things. It wasn't something sexist or creepy that lingered in his eyes, it was more like hatred. Spencer took the sheriff's attention away from you after noticing what the whole team did, and asked him to show him the records they kept at the precinct.

Emily Prentiss came up behind you and placed a hand on your upper arm, squeezing it like she understood what you had thought you'd seen. Out of everyone else in the team, she would understand the most.

taglist (open!!): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld

[atzloverr]

seonghwa was eating you out when he noticed you have a love tattoo under your chin. he was soooo turned on.

would love it if you could make a smut based on this! lol thank you, have fun writing

thank you for your request dear!!! Hope you enjoy <33

includes: seonghwa x reader, nsfw, smut, oral (f receiving), female reader, hickeys

You closed the door behind you, sighing in exhaustion as you were finally home in your apartment. You felt yourself nearly stumble over your feet as your high heels clacked against the wooden floor.

Sitting down on a small stool, you took a deep breath and started taking your shoes off, finally freeing your feet from the aching pain after a long night of dancing.

“Darling!” Seonghwa’s voice called out from the living room. You could hear the sound of his slippers as he made his way to the hallway to greet you. “How was the pa—“ he started, being interrupted by a small gasp leaving his lips.

Your gaze traveled to his wide eyed expression as he slowly looked you up and down. “Fuck,” he let out, taking in your form in the particularly revealing outfit you had chosen for tonight.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his expression, hearing him almost pant as he drank in your appearance.

You threw your heels away from you, not even wanting to think about wearing those again, before slowly walking towards your boyfriend, who seemed to be in some kind of trace.

You couldn’t resist wrapping your tired arms around him. All the people at the party asking where ‘your hot boyfriend’ was didn’t exactly make you feel better. As much as you would love for him to accompany you to parties like these, you knew how much he disliked it.

He didn’t like the way people looked at him. Looked at you. He preferred quieter settings, where people weren’t so surfaced.

You squeaked at the way Seonghwa’s arms wrapped around your waist, feeling his strong and desperate grip pull you closer to him. The second you felt his lips on your neck, you knew what he wanted, and hesitantly pushed him off gently.

“Can we please move to another place, I can’t stand for much longer,” you pleaded, and he obeyed, nodding cutely before walking you to the living room, still keeping your hand tightly in his.

He laid you down on the couch, showing a satisfied grin as you almost moaned from the soft cushions underneath you. Finally, you could relax.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Seonghwa breathed out, his body hovering over yours.

“We’ve only been apart for a few hours love,” you laughed, lifting your hand to stroke his soft hair.

He smiled and lowered his head to finally make your lips meet in a heated kiss. You noticed the way he almost moaned as his tongue explored your mouth. You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel his erection through his sweatpants, hardening against your thigh.

He separated his mouth from yours, a string of saliva connecting your wet lips. “I bet you had everyone’s attention tonight, dressed like this” he almost growled, eyes closing as his lips slowly travelled down your neck. You giggled at his remark, arching your neck slightly to give him easier access. “Do I have to remind everyone who you belong to?” he whispered.

Your eyes clenched together when his small kisses became harsh sucks on the side of your neck. You couldn’t stop a whimper from exiting your parted lips. “Answer me,” Seonghwa demanded before connecting his lips with your neck again. You felt your cheeks heat up before muttering out, “Yes, you do.”

As a hickey started to form on your neck, his hips started moving on their own.

Your fingers found his raven hair, pulling it slightly, in a way you knew he loved, his hips starting to grind into your thigh with more desperation.

His mouth left your neck with a popping sound, making him chuckle lightly. He slowly traced his fingers over your new marks, seeming proud of his work.

He noticed the way your eyelids drooped in exhaustion, and reminded himself of what your day had been like. Your work was extremely stressful at the moment, and you worked long days. You barely had any time to rest before attending your friend’s huge birthday party, probably standing and dancing for hours. You promised yourself not to drink tonight, not wanting to be hungover on Saturday, when you and Seonghwa were going on a dinner date.

Your boyfriend gave you a fond look. “Are you tired baby?” he asked, voice laced with worry and care. Your eyes fluttered open, and you hadn’t even realized you had closed them. “Oh, yeah a little bit,” you admitted, but Seonghwa knew that you were actually really tired, not just a little bit. “But I still want to spend time with you, you know,” you mumbled out, clearly becoming sleepy.

Seonghwa let out an airy laugh at your cute sleepy face. By ‘spending time with him’, you both knew you meant sex. You were both clearly horny, and needed some type of release.

“Darling, I have an Idea,” Seonghwa said playfully. You smirked slightly before he continued. “How about, you just lay here,” he started, his body traveling further down your body. “And I make you feel really good?” he asked, almost sounding innocent.

You smiled at his request. “I mean, I won’t say no to that, but I want to give you pleasure as well,” you pouted. Seonghwa shook his head with a small smile. “You know as much as I do that your pleasure is my pleasure,” he said, his sparkly eyes almost making you squeal.

After a moment of consideration, you nodded, earning a wide smirk from your boyfriend, who immediately got to work.

He skillfully, but slowly undressed you, almost teasing you as his fingertips met your bare skin. Soon, you were completely naked, suddenly feeling shy at your exposed state. Seonghwa moved your hands as you tried to cover up slightly. “C’mon baby, this is nothing I haven’t seen before,” he said. You looked away shyly as his hands rubbed your bare legs slowly, his eyes slowly drinking in your bare body.

“Can’t you t- take some clothes off too?” you suggested, still not meeting his piercing gaze. Seonghwa gently turned your face towards his, eyes meeting yours. “So eager to see me, huh?” he asked, tone almost mocking. You were about to protest, but got interrupted by Seonghwa starting to slowly take his shirt off, as if putting on a show.

You gasped every time you saw his body like this, no matter how many times you’d seen it. At times, you even doubted yourself, thinking that you’re not enough for someone like him. When you had told him about it, he immediately comforted you, reassuring you that you’re all he could’ve ever asked for.

His pants came off rather quickly, and you smirked at the bulge in his black boxers, showing you exactly how much he needed you right now.

“There, happy now?” he asked, watching as your eyes moved up and down his form. You nodded contentedly.

You yelped when your legs were suddenly swung up in the air, over Seonghwa’s lean shoulders. He started kissing your thighs slowly, as his hands gripped your thighs in a way that almost hurt. Oh, how you loved him like this, so eager to please.

Just as his lips came really close to your aching sex, begging for him to finally put his warm mouth on it, he switched to the other thigh, clearly avoiding it. You whined, feeling his lips so close to where you really needed it, as he started using his skillful tongue to tease you further, giving you a taste of what was to come.

His right hand traveled up to your breast, kneading it gently in his hand before slowly tracing his tongue over your erect nipple. You let out a breathy moan at the sudden sensation, as your hips practically bucked themselves up to meet your lovers lips.

“Please…” you whimpered, feeling his fingers lightly pinch your sensitive nipple. He hummed at your begs, coming closer and closer to where you wanted him.

Without a warning, his mouth found your sex, messily licking all over you. You couldn’t help but let out a long moan, your hand immediately finding his hair, gripping it for support. He knew how much you loved his tongue on you, in you.

Seonghwa’s eyes rolled back as he felt your taste on his tongue, a deep moan escaping him, sending vibrations into you.

He started lapping at your clit at a painfully slow pace, still not failing to make you twitch and jolt at the immense pleasure.

You barely noticed when he moved his hand from your boob, to focused on his tongue movement sending shivers down your spine. Suddenly, you felt two fingers teasing your entrance, Seonghwa’s mouth still working wonders. As they slowly worked their way inside of you, quickly finding your sweet spot, you felt an orgasm building up in your stomach.

Your moans only became louder as your boyfriend’s tongue became quicker and quicker.

Seonghwa’s eyes traveled up to your face, wanting to see the precious look on your dace as he finally gave you what you needed, but your head was thrown back, only showing your neck.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened as he saw something on your neck, and he needed to blink to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

A tattoo.

Right there, on the bottom of your chin. It depicted a heart.

What made you whine in desperation, was the way Seonghwa’s mouth suddenly stopped moving as he saw the tattoo you hadn’t bothered to tell him about. You snapped your head in his direction, giving him a pleading look.

“Hwa, please—“ you whimpered, trying to push his head slightly, still feeling so close to coming, but his fierce gaze didn’t budge. He removed his mouth from you, making you thrash around in frustration, but you gasped when he tilted your head back harshly, his breath fanning over your neck.

“What—“

“When did you get this tattoo?” he asked, voice unwavering and serious.

You became quiet, and thought about his question. “I think, about a year ago? A few months before we met,” you explained, your mind still fixated on your orgasm that was so rudely ripped away from your grasp.

“How have I never seen it before?…” Seonghwa said lowly, hands tracing the small heart on your chin. You swallowed.

“D- do you… not like it?” you asked, feeling insecure all of a sudden. Seonghwa let out a sound of disagreement, finally tilting your head back so you could look him in the eye.

“Baby,” he started, the look in his eye almost scary. “I don’t think you understand how much I like it.”

You laughed at his seriousness. “Oh come on—“

“No like, I need to see it, from that exact angle,” he explained manically. Before elaborating more, he quickly made his way back to his previous position, in between your legs.

“Seonghw- ahh—“ you moaned, feeling his hot tongue back on your neglected heat. “Tilt your head back,” he commanded, eyes plastered on you, as he inserted his two fingers once again. He didn’t have to tell you twice, your head already resting on the armrest of the couch.

This time, he wasn’t so gentle with his mouth.

The room was soon filled with the lewd sounds of slurps and moans, the moans not only coming from you. You momentarily looked down at him, and you were met by the sight of him mercilessly rutting into the couch through his boxers, his hips moving quickly and in an unsteady rhythm.

“Mmh…” he let out, giving you a pouty look. You smiled and tilted your head back again.

Seonghwa already loved your neck like it was, so noticing this detail about you made him hard as a rock.

After only a short amount of time, you got close again, but this time, you weren’t edged, no, Seonghwa made sure you felt this orgasm.

His fingers pumped into you at an unbelievable speed, while he sucked on your clit. His hands were wrapped around your thighs tightly, not letting you move an inch. As you came on his tongue, you noticed that he was moaning like never before.

You looked down at him again, and luckily he had closed his eyes, his own orgasm washing over him as he came in his boxers. You’d never seen your boyfriend this desperate and horny before, but you were sure this wasn’t going to be the last time.

You ran your hands through his hair slowly, as if a way of giving him praise. He slowly drank up your liquids, making your breath hitch at the overstimulation.

As he propped himself up again, you were ready to go take a shower with him and go to bed, but he had other plans.

As you tried to stand up, Seonghwa’s hand found your waist, pulling you back into the soft couch.

“You think we’re done?” he asked, clearly baffled. You smiled questioningly. “Yeah? You did come, didn’t you?” you teased slightly, eyeing the wet spot in his boxers.

“Listen, Y/n,” he started, taking your hands in his. “I’m not done until I get to see that little tattoo of yours, from every possible angle,” he stated. Your eyes widened at his sudden boldness.

Without saying another word, Seonghwa lay down on his back, and gestured for you to come closer.

“Well go ahead,” he smirked. “Sit on my face.”

Hope you enjoyed!!! Please send in more requests if you guys have any!

Good news (or bad news?) I’m sick, so I’ll have plenty of time to write the upcoming days!!!

masterlist

[ariesangelxo]

okay so i was thinking something like rafe always gives like reader butt pats and she’s gotten used to it so much that she can’t go a day without it. so one day rafe doesn’t do it and she automatically thinks he’s mad at her but rafes not he just does the but pats without thinking. so then their whole day goes along with them fighting abt small things till rafe asks her what’s wrong and they make up🤗

🌶️anon!

rafe cameron x fem reader

minors & ageless blogs dni

cw: a bit of angst, a lil bit of comfort in the end. some suggestive content, spanking, reader is an overthinker, reader also isn’t good about talking abt her feelings

a/n: i’m sorry this took so long! i hope i did this justice <33

being by rafe’s side was ninety percent of your daily routine. he’d asked you to move into tannyhill not long after ward passed, and being his loving girlfriend that doted on his every step, you did.

you couldn’t have been happier to spend nearly all of your time with him. rafe treated you like a princess. despite his rough reputation around outerbanks, you knew him to be the most loving man you’d ever met.

he could tell when you were upset, the small tells of you avoiding eye contact and biting down on your bottom lip made it obvious to him when you needed him most. he was usually able to get you back to your sweet and happy self with just focusing his attention on you. his touch, his voice, his presence, it comforted you in ways nothing else could.

rafe always gave you small pats on your ass throughout the day. it was something you’d grown accustomed to and you adored it. it was one of those little things he did that unknowingly made your heart swell. his casual dominance allowed you to turn your brain off, every thought in your pretty head revolved around him.

today, however, had been a bit different. it started with him not giving you the normal pat when you got out of bed this morning. you didn’t think too much of it, figuring he was probably concerned with work-related emails on his phone.

then it was the lack of attention while you made him breakfast. you enjoyed your small housewife-like duties. rafe walked into the kitchen, leaning his back against the granite countertop. but when he didn’t come up behind you and place a sweet kiss against your neck while aggressively claiming your ass as his, a slight pout formed on your lips. rafe was too engrossed in his phone to notice it though.

when you put a plate of food in front of him, he barely looked up to give you a half smile. you quickly went back to busying yourself in the kitchen, trying to keep your mind away from the anxious thoughts beginning to swirl around.

much to your dismay, washing the dishes wasn’t helping. did you do something wrong? could you have said something last night that, unintentionally of course, upset him? were you being too clingy? was it really just work?

you let out a deep sigh as you finished drying off a frying pan. “you okay?” rafe called out to you.

you turned to look at him, placing a small smile on your face that was definitely not genuine. “yeah, ‘m fine.”

he didn’t look satisfied with your answer, but he didn’t push any further. you didn’t want to share any of your current thoughts. if it was really only him being stressed with the business, you would feel bad for assuming otherwise. you didn’t want to overthink small things, but it was one of your unhealthy habits.

shortly after eating and cleaning up, you were upstairs in your shared room getting ready to go to the country club with rafe. he’d made plans a few days ago to go golfing with topper and kelce, naturally, you were going. rafe brought you with him almost everywhere.

you put on a short white tennis skirt, one that you knew drove him wild, along with a tight pink tank top. as you finished applying your layer of lip gloss, you looked yourself over in the mirror. there was no way rafe could resist giving you a firm slap on the ass when it looked so good in the tiny skirt.

“c’mon, kid. don’t have all day here.” he called out from the bottom of the stairs.

“‘m coming,” you responded, grabbing your small pink purse and heading down.

you walked out of the bedroom with a big smile on your face, nearly skipping down the hall. once you got to the top of the stairs, rafe looked up, giving you a quick smirk.

he held the door open for you on the way out of the house, and of course as you got into his truck, but still hadn’t given you a single pat today. you were genuinely beginning to grow concerned at this point. you could brush off not getting them when you got out of bed or while making breakfast, but when he didn’t give you one while you walked out of the front door, swaying your hips, or stepping up into his truck, purposely bending over so your mini skirt rode up? that was extremely unusual.

you buckled yourself in, leaning your knees closer to the door than him and stared out the window.

“you have an attitude?” he questioned you, his tone having a bit of edge to it.

“nope,” you replied, popping the ‘p’, “‘m fine.”

you glanced over just in time to see rafe rolling his eyes. he didn’t verbally say anything, but his actions spoke loud enough for you.

you crossed your arms, childishly leaning further into the door to put what distance you could between the two of you. rafe let out a sigh, but still didn’t say anything.

the short drive to the country club was filled with tension. it was uncomfortably silent, neither of you speaking a word to each other.

rafe stepped out of the truck when you arrived, slamming his door shut a bit harder than usual. he still came to your side though, opening up the door for you to step out. he once again didn’t offer any touch to you. your heart sank, you truly didn’t know what was going on.

he grabbed his clubs from the back, walking ahead of you to go meet topper and kelce on the course. you followed behind, slow and stubbornly, your arms crossed and your brow furrowed with a pout on your lips.

you sat in the passenger seat, legs and arms crossed as your manicured nails tapped against your bicep in an irritated manner. you looked cranky, and you knew it based on the looks topper and kelce gave rafe when you initially followed behind him. you usually wore a bright smile and clung to rafe’s side, excitedly greeting the boys.

“what’s goin’ on with her?” you heard topper ask rafe. he attempted to keep his volume low so you wouldn’t hear, but with his naturally loud voice, he failed miserably.

your eyebrow quirked up. you were curious to hear rafe’s response.

“no fuckin’ clue.” rafe grumbled out, trying to focus on his swing. you rolled your eyes, it was his fault you were in a bad mood. he’s the one that’s been neglecting you since you woke up.

topper glanced over at you, letting out a slight laugh at your pouting. rafe’s eyes followed, he pinched his nose in annoyance.

he walked up to the cart where you were sitting, crossing his arms as he looked down at you.

“okay, kid. what’s goin’ on? why are you pouting?”

you let a small scoff out, furrowing your brows, “don’t act so interested now just because your friends noticed.”

rafe was taken aback at your tone. you never spoke to him with an attitude like that. his eyes narrowed, looking at you in a way that made you feel minuscule.

“you can lose that little attitude you’ve got goin’ on, now.” his voice was stern, dripping with annoyance. you wanted to disappear, you were so frustrated that he didn’t understand he was the reason for your attitude.

you looked away from him, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes as you said nothing and stared forward, not particularly focusing on anything.

rafe muttered a “whatever.” before walking back to where topper and kelce were.

you did feel bad for having an attitude, but the way you felt like you were being rejected by him made you want to shut down. it made you want to disappear from the face of the earth for a while. you felt embarrassed, upset, and now overwhelmed with your brain going into overthinking.

you didn’t say a word to any of the men as they played through the course. not even when rafe would get into the drivers seat and bring you two to the next hole.

you instead spent that time biting down harshly on the inside of your lip, fighting to keep the tears of frustration from falling past your eyes. you tried to focus on literally anything else, but the constant noise of thoughts swirling through your brain made it impossible.

they’d wrapped up the last hole. you heard rafe saying something about possibly meeting them around the country club after for lunch.

you refused to look up at him, even when he started heading your way. you missed the way he wore a half smirk as he looked at your pouting figure. he knew you were upset about something, but you weren’t great about vocalizing your feelings.

“d’you want to go back to the restaurant for lunch?”

“don’t care,” you muttered out, looking down at your nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

“well, your options are either that or we can go home. your choice, kid.” he wasn’t feeding into your baiting tone, and that just irritated you further.

“said i don’t care, rafe.”

“s’okay. we can go home and you can take a nap, because you clearly need one.” he rounded the golf cart, hopping into the driver’s seat as he brought you back to the entrance.

you got out before he could, beginning to storm your way to his truck.

“hey! slow the fuck down. you know you don’t walk into a busy ass parking lot without me.” he called out to you.

you halted, but didn’t turn around to acknowledge him. you mumbled an “okay, asshole.” under your breath, not thinking he’d hear.

boy, were you wrong. it took a matter of seconds for rafe to be in front of you, one of his large hands squishing your cheeks as he moved jaw up to look at him, “wanna say that again, princess?” he said challengingly.

you didn’t respond. wrong answer. his nostrils flared as he squinted at you. he gripped your wrist, harshly dragging you to where the truck was parked. he brought you around to the passenger door where it blocked onlookers from the country club from seeing you.

“i don’t know what the fuck’s goin’ on with you today. but i will not put up with this shit in front of others. you know i- i have a reputation to uphold here, right? you think it looks good on me for others to see my girl being a bitch towards me, huh?”

your lip wobbled as tears began to fill your eyes. you wanted to look away, to look anywhere besides his mean stare, but his rough hand on your face wouldn’t allow it.

“no!” you cried out, “just- just wanted your affection. dunno why you’re mad at me.” you whimpered out, tears beginning to cascade down your cheeks.

“kid. why do you think i’m mad at you?” he quirked an eyebrow inquisitively.

“b-because you haven’t given me a single pat today! ‘nd you give me them everyday!”

he closed his eyes, taking a deep inhale to calm himself.

“you think i’m mad at you because i haven’t smacked your ass today?”

when he said it like that, it sounded stupid. but it felt like so much more than that to you.

he rolled his eyes, using his hands to wipe away the tears on your face. he made sure you were looking at him, “sweetheart, ‘m not mad at you. i’ve been busy with some clients that aren’t following through on their payments today.”

you looked at him hopefully, hiccuping as you brought your hands up on his.

“do you pinky promise you’re not mad at me?” you asked him softly, holding out one of your pinkies.

“pinky promise. but you’re not gonna be able to sit tomorrow with the spanking you’re getting when we get home.” he reached out his pinky, stifling back a smirk as he intertwined them.

“m’kay!” you responded happily, the tears stopping and a smile appearing on your face.

he opened up the passenger door, holding his hand out to help you get in before he gave your bottom a firm pat and buckled you in.

he chuckled to himself as he rounded the truck, “all that attitude because she didn’t get her ass smacked, huh?”

[lambilegs]

✮🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺✮

striking a deal (sevika x reader)

contains: sevika being a jackass (what's new tho I still love her), gambling, reader sort of being a hater against gambling due to the negative impacts its had on their friend, enemies-with-a-bit-of-desire sort of vibe going on, reader is called a "girlfriend," very sfw, not much explicit romance and just a bit of flirting + attraction

a/n: hiii pookies so this is my first fic for miss sevika!! I hope it's accurate to her character and you all enjoy <33 would love to hear what y'all think hehe

art: four gentlemen of high rank playing primero

✮🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺✮

"hey, do you know where I can find sevika?" you tentatively ask the bartender. he's some nervous looking kid who's probably going to quit after two weeks of witnessing the shit show that is the last drop since vander was killed.

not that you can blame him. you rarely frequent this part of the undercity, avoiding it for both the sake of safety and your own sense of sanity. you couldn't stand half the crap that went down here -- all the drunken fights, the sloshing of alcohol spilling and soaking through nearly every visitor's clothes, the lewd public displays that sent your face burning and ducking down -- and, of course, the gambling.

the damn gambling you had been imploring your friend, zafar, to put aside for almost half a year now. ever since he had lost his younger sister to an "intervention" enforcers had made at a party a year ago, every bad habit of his that had once been a small spring in the ground, roots shallow, had blossomed into a rotten, ugly plant that had spread faster than the blink of an eye could capture. you tried to be there for him, you did, but you also had your own family to take care of, and with his new friends being nothing but a bunch of enablers, he had now landed himself into a world of debt.

why, you ask? he had made the stupid decision to play with one of silco's little henchmen, sevika, whose reputation at cards is so notorious that even you've heard of it from your dinky little corner, far away from this place. you had heard rumours of her, some admiring, others downright terrifying. her help in smuggling shimmer, the ass-whooping she did for silco, how she was a constant presence when it came to the drug lord. that was enough to drain you of any admiration you could've beheld for such a strong woman. you had seen what shimmer did, the power it had in crumbling people's bodies, mental states, and their ability to keep living. you don't approve of anyone who's involved in the horrors of it.

the only reason you're here now is because zafar came to you sobbing this morning, grief heavy in his eyes over the money he had lost. he claimed sevika cheated it out of him, and while you still aren't sure as to how true that is, you'd at least try to set the record straight with her. you want to do something, anything, for standing around and watching zafar self-destruct no longer feels like a valid option. you promised him you'd try to see if you could convince her to return his money, under the condition of him avoiding gambling as best as he could and beginning to work part-time at the shop where you worked so he could have a more reliable source of income.

you can only hope this shitty plan will be in your favour. already, your stomach is tightening with anxiety, the knot circling and circling to bulge against your gut and make you slightly nauseated. but, you try to, at least physically, keep your cool, schooling your features to be calm, levelled and devoid of any jitters or twitches.

the bartender cocks his head to a dark corner near the jukebox. "right there. why, you've got business with her?"

a spring of irritation flickers through you at his prodding. the less he knows, the better. "in a way." you nod your thanks, then make your way to her.

you had seen flashes of sevika before. rallies, protests, gang fights. a blur of dark hair, a murky red cape and swinging fists. that's all she ever was to you. so, now, to behold her in her full state, feels... intimidating, to say the least. she carries herself as though the rickety wooden boards and worn out hinges of this place are her prized palace and she's the hailing king, rightfully seated on her throne. her dark lips are twisted into a leering smirk, haughtily bringing her cigar to them and taking a prideful puff from it. you swallow hard. you're definitely out of your league.

you linger nearby, watching through the crowd and awaiting an opportunity to approach her. when the men around her slam their palms down on the shared table, groaning and shutting their eyes in clear loss, her arm tossing towards them cockily, you stiffen up. you have an opening.

as the losers begin to file away, shoulders slumped in defeat, you can't help but feel a twinge of pity for them. everyone in this city struggles, one way or another. to have those struggles tied off with a loss in poker is a downright cursed fate. you try not to meet their eyes, sliding through the sweaty bodies until you reach her table.

you pause in front of her, hands twiddling as she collects the coins. you wait for her to look up, and when a few seconds pass and no such thing happens, you clear your throat.

eyes still casted onto the table, she speaks. her voice is like sand that's fallen through the surface of the ocean, rough and textured, impossibly deep and smooth. "you waited your turn long enough. what do you want?"

you flinch. "waited my turn?"

she tilts her head in the direction you came from. "you were lurking there. just watching, or is there something you need?"

jesus, and here you had thought you were at least a bit subtle. "oh, I--"

"didn't think I'd notice you?" she scoffs, scooping up the coins and pouring them into a small sack. "you almost fell head-first when bunny-face bumped into you."

your eye nearly twitches. "okay, well, good observation, I guess." honestly, it's impressive. you had expected her to be all brawn, no brain. "I'm here to talk to you about something."

her eyes finally meet yours. they're nearly silver, a dark grey that flashes under the colourful lights. her gaze is piercing, punctuated all the more by her dark eyebrows that are drawn in curiosity. "make it quick."

that's all you need. "okay, well, my friend, zafar, gambled with you last night."

"okay."

"well, you won, and took a bunch of his money." you wobble on your feet, hesitation seizing at you due to the accusation you're about to lay out. she could probably snap your neck in less than a millisecond. you've heard of her ability to totally crush any enemy designated to her by silco. definitely not a person whose bad side you want to get on. hopefully, nothing of the sort will happen if you express yourself in enough of a civilized way. "he, I don't know if it's true, but he says you cheated." you avert your eyes, the hand in your pocket gripping tightly onto the handle of your dagger. you haven't had to use it, not yet, at least, but in the undercity, it's better to be safe than sorry. and, frankly, you're expecting the worse from her.

which is why you nearly flinch when the corner of her lip twists up, and she says, "a common scapegoat for losers."

protectiveness immediately kicks in, searing through your body and urging you through your fear. you know it's hypocritical, considering you, too, don't fully believe him. but, still, you at least know his character, whereas she's just riding off her assumptions. "he could just as well be telling the truth."

"oh, yeah? is that why he sent his little girlfriend to save his ass?"

gross. the insinuation feels nearly as offensive as her insults towards him. "I'm not his girlfriend. and I volunteered to come here myself."

her eyes flicker up to you, and you rear back when they linger on your face, skimming over your features before settling back down to the table. "and while that's nice, and well, pretty stupid of you, I didn't do any cheating. anything he lost was because he couldn't play his hand well."

you grit your teeth together. "I'm not stupid. I just came here for a friend."

"a friend who clearly is a sloppy poker player and likely to lose to anyone who has the playing ability of a child." she snickers, and you catch sight of the split between her two front teeth, a little gap protruding. you force yourself to meet her eyes. the last thing you'd want is for her to catch you staring at her mouth.

what's worse is that you can't even argue back with her on this. for all you know, zafar very well may be a shit player. probably is, in all honesty. it wouldn't surprise you -- he always was impulsive as hell, and you wouldn't bat an eye to discover that challenging sevika had been an in-the-moment decision of his. but, you know what he's been through. you know how down in the dumps he is financially, and just how desperate he's gotten. his mourning has only made it worse.

"okay, well," you trail off, not really knowing where to continue. you didn't really lay a plan for yourself, and now that she's swiftly shut you down in a manner which you have no rebuttals for, you're not sure how to proceed.

"was that all?"

"no." you force your shoulders to straighten, hoping you sound somewhat firm, maybe even dignified. "is there any way you can return his money? he's been through a lot this year, and--"

she cuts you off with a bark of laughter, the raspy noise of it harsh and grating to your ears. the anger it's stirring in you probably isn't helping either. "okay. listen, friend of...?"

deadpan, you respond, "zafar."

she nods. "yeah, whatever his name is. this game comes with risks, and one of them is losing all your shit if you play with no tact."

you suck in a sharp breath at the condescension in her tone. "I'm well aware of that. but, listen, he's had a hard time of it lately, and--"

"and what? we've all had a hard time of it lately. if he chose to put his life's worth on the table, that isn't my problem."

"I'm not saying it is, but c'mon, can't you have a little empathy now and return his money?" you stick an incredulous finger at the table. "you have enough as is! no need to drain every zaunite of their hard-earned money before you're satisfied."

her eyes flutter in what seems to be exasperation, but you firmly planted, both on your feet and in your stance. physically, you can't do shit against this mass of muscle. but, maybe, just maybe, you can verbally get somewhere.

she stares up at you, elbows propped on her knees. "if it's so hard-earned, why did your friend gamble it away? are you asking me to return someone's money because they were an idiot?"

frustration begins to gnaw at your stomach, a burning sensation swarming through your insides and making you tense up. "I'm telling you, he's not in his right mind right now. things have happened in his family lately, and it's been hard for him."

"are you forgetting where you live? things happen in every family here. being smart is how you survive. if your friend can't do that..." she shrugs, continuing to sweep the coins into the opening of the sack. "then, that's not my problem."

"being a decent person helps in surviving in this place, too. being there for each other and our community. don't you care about that?"

her movements halt for a second, eyes flicking between you and the table. you nearly crack a grin and do a little rejoicing dance. bingo.

you add a sticky sweet tone to your voice, pleading and coaxing. you've heard she frequents babette's brothel, and if that's any indication about where her romantic interests lie, maybe you'll be able to woe her into complacency. "c'mon, I promise, he'll never gamble with you again, and if he does, take anything and keep it. but, please, just this one time, help him out, hm? do it for him, do it for your people."

her face, which was stoic only moments ago, shatters into a loud round of laughter, her palm smacking against her knee. "I gotta hand it to you, the 'for your people' thing was a nice touch." she stands up, and you try not to blink too hard at the sight of her towering over you. jesus, she's gigantic. no wonder people are scared shitless of her. no wonder you were scared shitless of her. "now, be honest. was the money yours? boyfriend left you and stole from the cookie jar? told you you had to come and get it back yourself?"

the more she talks, the more you get the sense that to her, this conversation is simply something to toy with, and just engage with as a playful little pastime. it only causes more anger to ooze within you, fiery and hot within your guts, like lava. this isn't a game. this is about people's lives, people's financial sustenance. she must earn a decent amount of time for her work for silco, and yet here she is, milking the people of zaun who don't know any better or who are too entrenched in their habits to put a stop to their gambling.

you want to make a jab at her that's as harsh as the blow to your ego was. it might risk you a limb, but you're praying the surprising amount of calm she's shown so far is a sign that your safety is secure. "you know what? I was stupid for coming here in the first place. to think one of silco's little servants would actually have a moral compass."

unfortunately, her irritatingly cool collection not only keeps your physical wellbeing in check, but does the complete opposite to your pride. for all she does is stare down at you, the long, blue scar seeping through her cheek curling as she chuckles, the noise husky and rough, like crushed velvet. "ouch. good one. anyone else might've gotten offended by that." her stormy eyes skip to your lips for a split second. "quite the mouth you have on you."

what the fuck is that supposed to mean? is that a pass or a genuine comment on your temper, which is very much flaring up? either way, you're determined to try harder to goad her. "yeah, well, I'm sure it has no impact on you, right? after all, you spend your days contributing to half the shit going down in this fucked up city."

her jaw suddenly clenches, mouth pressing together. you would've thought someone in this business would be a bit more discreet with the physical manifestations of their moods. but, sevika is like an open book, grey eyes wide, and eyebrows sunk down, her newfound disdain clear as day. "what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"the shimmer," you answer, squinting at her, praying the expression conveys how stupid you think she is. "your little boss has just tossed it to this city and watches the damages of it unfold without doing shit. wasn't his glorious plan to make this city a better place, not fuck us over even more?"

"the shimmer is helping," she retorts, her voice harder than before, lined with a firm pressure that had been absent in her prior teasing and casual dismissal. "we have something that topside could only wish for, something that gives us an advantage."

"an advantage?" you laugh bitterly. the injustice of it all, the agony you see your people in everyday -- it all floods your insides, wracking you from within. "it's been years since it's come about, and nothing has changed. piltover is still on top, and in addition to that, they have hextech." you make sure your eyes pointedly lock onto hers, hoping she feels every single fibre of your rage. "just admit it. you guys haven't done shit."

"and what exactly are you doing?" her voice is lowered to a heavy whisper, and you feel the noises surrounding you two melt away into a light, background buzz. the iciness of her voice feels almost worst than any other stupid tone she's taken since you started interacting.

"something you and your boss don't seem to be helping at all with." you give her a tight-lipped smile, your gums aching with how hard your teeth press in together, the disjointed shapes of them uncomfortable and crooked as they mash at the edges. "trying to survive."

her nostrils flare, her burning glare pulsing through the barrier of your skin and making your insides turn from the onslaught of anxiety that enters. god, will she unleash some goons on you now or something?

"sevika!"

you jerk at the sudden sound, whereas sevika simply blinks down at you, gaze unrelenting. "what?" she calls out.

uncomfortable at having her eyes still pointed at you, you turn to the voice, seeing a man with small, rectangular glasses hanging off his nose looking awfully mopey.

"you promised us another round," the guy wails, tossing his hands in the air.

you swallow hard at the silence that ensues, still feeling her stormy eyes hooked onto you. after a moment, she says, "maybe later."

the man's shoulders sag as he heaves a dramatic sigh, turning to who seems to be his friend, whimpering, "she's too busy with her date."

you grimace at the mistake, though the disgust you feel at it is fused with an irritation directed at the way your stomach spins at the word 'date.' you're not stupid -- sevika is, objectively, pretty attractive. hot, some people might say. but, jesus, she's a bitch too. and working with silco, which makes for a very unappealing combination.

"come on," she drawls out. you turn back to her, the anger from before now replaced with a wide smirk, one sharp eyebrow lifted up inquisitively. "I can't be all that bad, can I?"

you roll your eyes. this conversation has strayed too much as is, and you're not about to let it tiptoe off into flirtatious territory. "are you going to give my friend back his money or not?"

"hm," she ponders, and lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. you can immediately catch a whiff of the falsehood in the gesture, and tap your foot, waiting for her to just solidify your assumption. "no, I won't. but, do give him my regards."

you grunt, shaking your head. despite your expectancy of it, you can't help but feel a stone of disappointment sink through the waters of your body, falling to the bottom with more impact than you'd like. you shouldn't expect anything of her, there's no reason for you to feel disappointment. your expectations shouldn't have gotten this high in the first place. "of course. have a good day."

as you whirl around to leave, she grabs your forearm, callouses brushing against your skin. "hey, I just turned down a poker game for you."

"uh, yeah, and as a reward, you get a departure from me that doesn't include a kick to the shin." you snatch your arm from her grasp, trying to direct your thoughts to her shitty words as a desperate attempt to ignore the warmth in your stomach. "you're welcome."

with her snarky laugh ringing in your ears, you practically dash to the door, wanting to get out as soon as possible.

it's awful, but at the opening, something in you whispers for you to look back once more. it's okay -- it's reasonable, right? you barely frequent this place, anyone would want to catch one last glance at such a notorious woman in your city, no matter how degenerate and callous she is.

the only con to this is as soon as you find sight of her through your tentative search of the crowd, she's already staring back at you. at being caught, you internally cringe, the feeling only intensified by a tenfold when she tips her head at you with a grin.

ugh. never again.

two weeks later, you find a crisp envelope laying out on the mat outside your front door. in neat, cursive writing, it reads:

A thank you gift for the free business consultation. Do with it what you will. Whether you or someone else needs it. - S

[n0vazsq]

Pretty Boy | LN4 x Reader

pairing . . . lando norris x gf!artist!reader

summary . . . While you're sketching a drawing of Lando, you notice that something's off with him. Then, you remind him that he's much more than what people think of him

request . . . no!

word count . . . 759

warnings . . . none! just one use of 'damn'

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . first lando fic!!! a bit short but i hope you guys like it <33

. . . The room smelled like salted caramel and the leather of the couch you were currently sitting on. Lando sat across from you, sat on the arm of the chair, one leg bouncing restlessly. The glow from his phone lit up his face every few seconds, softening the sharpness of his jawline, but it didn’t hold his attention for long. He set it down after scrolling aimlessly, leaning back with a sigh.

"You know," you started, stretching out your legs, "you really need to learn how to sit still. You’re stressing me out."

He flashed you that damn grin, the one he knew you hated for how effortlessly it made you forgive him for everything. "You sound like my engineer," he laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Maybe I should be," you shot back, holding up the sketchpad in your lap. "You’re not exactly making this easy for me."

His eyes flicked to the page, and he tilted his head, squinting slightly. "That’s me?"

"Who else do you think I’ve been sketching this whole time? Your mum?"

Lando grinned, leaning in closer to get a better look. His hair was slightly messy, still damp from the shower he’d taken earlier, and you could smell the faint trace of his shampoo as he hovered over your shoulder. "Not bad," he said with mock seriousness, tapping his chin. "You almost got my nose right."

You turned your head, glaring playfully. "Almost? You’re lucky I even attempted that ski slope you call a nose."

He pretended to be offended, leaning back dramatically, a hand on his chest. "Ski slope? That’s rich coming from someone who-" He cut himself off, laughing at your raised eyebrow.

"Go on," you urged, smirking now.

"Nah," he said, still laughing as he settled back into the chair. "You’re not worth the fight."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Lando had this way of lighting up a room without even trying, of making you feel like the only person who mattered when he turned that adorable charm your way. It was infuriating, really.

But tonight, something about him seemed quieter. The usual spark in his eyes was dimmer, and the edges of his grin didn’t reach as far.

"What’s going on with you?" you asked, setting the sketchpad aside.

He shrugged, looking down at his hands, which were fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About....?"

He hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek before finally meeting your gaze. "You ever feel like… I don’t know. Like people only see what they want to see when they look at you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Where’s this coming from?"

He shrugged again, more defensively this time. "It’s just… I don’t know. Everyone’s always saying stuff, you know? About me. Pretty boy this, golden boy that. Like that’s all I am."

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. "You know that’s not true, right?"

"Isn’t it?" he countered, his voice softer now, more uncertain.

"My beloved Lando." You said his name like it was the answer to a question he didn’t want to ask. "You’re so much more than what people say. You’re brilliant, and kind, and funny, annoyingly so, actuall. You care about the people around you more than you probably should."

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you with this look that made your chest tighten.

"I don’t see some ‘pretty boy,’" you continued. "I see you. The real you. And if other people don’t, that’s their loss. But just saying, you are pretty."

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re too good at this whole therapy talk thing, you know that?"

You smirked, leaning back against the couch again. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep your ego contained."

He laughed then, the sound breaking through the tension like sunlight through a cloud. And when he looked back at you, the spark in his eyes was there again, faint but unmistakable.

"Thanks," he said simply.

"For what?"

"For being here. For being… ," He took a deep breath, arms raising and falling, like he was trying to cut the air. "You.”

Your smile softened, and you shrugged. "Someone’s gotta put up with you."

He laughed again, shaking his head. "Lucky me, huh?"

And in the glow of the room, with the soft hum of the music in the background, you thought maybe you were the lucky one.

[itneverendshere]

hiiii, i just read the school spirit fic with rafe AND ITS THE BEST FUCKING THING. i need a part 2 desperately please, i need rafe to play the best game he is ever played and everyone it’s like wtf but like omg. AND THE LAST GOL HE LIKE DEDICATES IT TO READER POINTING TO THE BLEACHERS. and then reader just goes with it and they fuck… please i need it

you ask and you shall receive! hope you enjoy <33

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron (+18) - part ii

warnings: smut! paring: smart!reader x bimbo!rafe <3; pope being an absolute menace; read part i here; part iii word count: 4.7k

you were losing your fucking mind.

what were you thinking? oh, right! you weren’t.

the entire situation felt surreal, but there was no backing down now.

plus, when did some little dick hurt your feelings?

it was a win-win like you said before. if he won, you got laid after months without feeling a human's touch. if he lost, you wouldn't get laid and just walked away. either way, you’re not entirely disappointed with the outcome.

or at least that’s why you’ve been telling yourself.

as you walked to the stadium, your heart pounded in your chest, legs threatning to give out underneath you. yeah, you were a little nervous. but you blamed it on pope for giving you so much shit about the game.

he’d been insistent on you learning the rules, the players’ names, even memorizing their more common plays. it felt like he was trying to coach you into a small version of josé mourinho. 

everyone knew you were not the type to get invested in sports, let alone a college soccer match, but today was different and you were stupid enough to let your best friend convince you to wear a stupid jersey with rafe’s name and number on it.

13.

of course that walking disaster of a man would choose the unlucky number for himself. 

as you entered the stadium, the noise of the crowd was overwhelming. the chants, the cheers, the jeers—had you mentioned this was your first time watching a game? in real life? you knew people took this seriously, but it felt absolutely insane to witness it.

you could see the players warming up on the field, rafe among them.

he looked so different out there, focused and intense, very different to the reckless, unpredictable guy you were used to.

you followed pope like a lost puppy, and quickly found your seats in the stands, right in the middle of a sea of fans. some were dressed in the team's colors, others wore jerseys like yours, proudly displaying their favorite player's name and number. you felt out of place, a fraud among true fans, but there was no turning back now.

“turn that frown upside down, you gonna scare the bitches away.”

you rolled your eyes, “stop calling everyone bitches.”

from the corner of your right eye, you saw pope leaning closer, and without so much of a glance, you could tell he was about to spew out something stupid to piss you off.

“why are you so tense, hmmm? you’re getting laid tonight bro, cheer up!”

your hand instantly lifted to knock some sense into his head, “keep it down!” you hiss in his ear, “jesus.”

he just laughed, entirely unfazed by your irritation. “relaxxx, no one’s paying attention to us,” he said, casually draping an arm over the back of your seat. “they’re all too busy worshipping our soccer gods.”

you couldn’t help but glance around, noting the faces of fans who seemed to live and breathe for this moment. it was a different world, one you never quite understood.

you looked back at the field, your eyes finding rafe again. he was in his element, effortlessly moving through the warm-up drills, every motion proof to his athleticism. for a moment, you allowed yourself to appreciate the view. his jersey clung to his body, emphasizing muscles you hadn’t really paid attention to before…closely.

“hey,” pope nudged you, pulling you out of your reverie. “you’re drooling.”

“shut up,” you muttered, but couldn’t help the slight smile tugging at your lips, “i’m assessing the task.”

“don’t worry. rumor has it he’s big.”

you shot pope a glare, half-amused and half-exasperated. "do you ever shut the fuck up?"

pope just chuckled, shaking his head, “i’m dead serious.”

you were quiet for a minute. eyes drifting along rafe’s body, stopping—

“how big?”

“what?”

“how big.” you muttered under your breath, torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to smack your friend for his relentless teasing.

he only sent you a wink, “you’ll find out soon enough sweetcheeks, it’s okay.”

"you’re so annoying," you gritted trough your teeth, trying to keep your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach, “so annoying.”

pope just grinned, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "the game’s starting, enjoy the view.”

the game started, and you tried to follow along, remembering pope's endless lectures. but rafe was everywhere, moving with a kind of grace you didn't know he possessed, toned legs carrying effortlessly across the field.

you watched him, transfixed, as he commanded the team, shouting orders and making plays. it was like seeing a different side of him, a side you couldn't reconcile with the rafe who caused so much chaos in the library. it was kinda hot. when he touched the ball, your heart leaped into your throat. you could see the determination in his eyes, the fire that drove him. 

then, it happened.

he dribbled past defenders as if they were mere obstacles in his way and then, he unleashed a powerful strike, the ball soared through the air, a perfect arc that left the goalkeeper rooted to the spot. time seemed to slow down as everyone watched with bated breath. then, the net rippled as the ball slammed into the back, and the stadium exploded.

"and cameron with an explosive start here! just six minutes into the game, and he's already showing us why he's a force to be reckoned with. that was a textbook example of skill and determination, folks! he saw the opportunity, he seized it, and he made it count! our boy is back!”

“holy fuck!” pope all but screamed in your ear as the crowd went wild, “what the hell did you tell him?!”

you turned to him, still sitting, momentarily speechless, as the realization sunk in that maybe, just maybe, your unconventional motivation had really ignited something within rafe. 

"i don't know," you managed to shout back, your voice drowned out by the crowd. but deep down, you knew. maybe it wasn't about the specifics of what you promised but the audacity of your offer that spurred him on.

as the game rolled on, rafe's presence on the field took over. every move he made sparked cheers and chants from the crowd, adding to the electric atmosphere. it was a far cry from your usual indifference to sports, but you couldn't help but get caught up in the excitement of it all.

in every pass, every interception, and every almost-goal, whenever he got the ball, the whole stadium seemed to hold its breath, as did you, waiting to see what he'd do next.

you were a hypocrite.

because he scored, again. 

when you thought, he was done showing off and making you eat your last week’s words up, you saw him turn to the stands after he celebrated the last goal with his teammates and your heart dropped to your ass.

there was no way in hell he was going to find you in that sea of people, right? you were safe. he was scanning the crowd, your section...searching for... you.

"shit," you muttered under your breath, trying to shrink into your seat. 

“yeah, that’s on me. sorry. told him your seat.”

if you weren’t about to puke, you would’ve punched pope in the face, instead you chose to keep your head down, eyes rooted to your beat up adidas, resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands.

“he’s coming up.”

you lifted your head, looking at pope incredulously, “he’s what?! pope, don’t fuck with me.”

“i’m sorry it was just too funny,” pope snickered, shaking his head, “he’s not coming, but he’s staring at you with those love-sick puppy eyes.”

you reluctantly glanced down to find him staring directly at you, chest heaving as he brushed a few stubborn strands of sweaty hair away from his forehead.

you almost, key word almost, gasped at you handsome he looked.

then a grin spread slowly across his lips. without breaking eye contact, he subtly raised his hand, a gesture only you could understand.

and it hit you. it was a callback to your shared sign language class in freshman year.

how the fuck did he remember that? you didn’t. not until he did it. 

hi beautiful.

you’d never felt the need to swoon over a man before. now you might. after what feels like an eternity, but were just mere seconds, you gathered your courage and raised your hand, mirroring his sign for a simple "hi" and adding a tentative smile.

it was an easy gesture, but it felt…different. rafe's smile widened in response before he turned to run back into the field.

pope, ever the instigator, nudged you again. "that was smooth.”

the glare returned to your face.

the rest of the game unfolded in a blur. rafe continued to dominate the field, scoring goal after goal with precision and skill that left you in awe. each time he celebrated, you found yourself holding your breath. 

when the final whistle blew and the stadium erupted in celebration, your jaw was nearly on the floor.

had he played like that his entire life? was this the same boy that you threatened to punch in the face if he didn’t get his life together? the team's victory was clear—a resounding 4-0 win.

"remember that name, folks—rafe cameron. he's not just a player; he's a game-changer. and with plays like that, he's proving why he's a standout talent on this field today!"

"well," pope finally managed to say, his voice tinged with disbelief, "looks like you're in for a ride."

you could only nod dumbly as you watched rafe celebrate with his teammates, the bond between them palpable even from a distance.

you swore you even saw him hug jj. 

as the stadium began to empty, you lingered in your seat, watching as rafe disappeared into the locker room with his team to shower. eventually, you gathered your belongings and followed pope out of the stadium.

“you gonna wait for him here?”

“i don’t know,” you groaned, itching to warm your freezing hands, “didn’t plan ahead.”

"so..." pope started again, "what's the plan now? going to find him?"

“i told—“ 

you were about to drill some common sense into pope when you feel something touch your back. not just something. a warm, blazing palm settling at the end of your back.

you froze, your heart racing as the warmth seeped through your jacket.

“cameron, nice game, for once.”

ignoring pope’s teasing, you leaned your head to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. and there he was. looking at you with that same confident tilt on his pretty lips that had both infuriated and intrigued you countless times before.

"hey," rafe said, his voice slightly breathless from the intensity of the game and the excitement still coursing through him.

"hey," you managed to reply, your voice surprisingly steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“oh okay. i get it.”

rafe glanced over at pope with a knowing smirk. "thanks for coming out, man.”

“you’re welcome by the way.”

rafe ignored the comment, eyes remained fixed on you. "glad you could make it," he said, his tone softer now.

“okayyy, i’m leaving. stay safe, byee!”

“pope,” you yelled out as he excused himself, “my doorm keys are in your car.”

“that sounds like a you problem.”

you stared after pope, mouth slightly agape, as he disappeared into the crowd. you'd have to figure that out later. for now, there was rafe, standing so close that the air between you didn’t seem enough. 

"guess we're stuck together,” you said, trying to sound casual, mentally cringing at how stupid it sounded.

rafe only chuckled, the sound low and warm against your skin, "seems like it."

“sooo—“

before you could finish your sentence, his hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

and then he kissed you

it was messy, sensual, and bruising all at once. his lips moved against yours with a hunger that took you by surprise, but you didn't pull away. instead, you matched his intensity, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as you kissed him back with just as much need. it felt like you were losing your fucking mind, but you didn't care.

he just felt so good.

his hands roamed up your lower back, pulling you even closer as if trying to merge you into him. his kiss was demanding, with a sense of deep-seated need that you hadn’t anticipated.

your fingers tangled in his hair, wondering if you’d ever get the chance to do this again after tonight. when you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, his forehead resting against yours as you tried to regain your composure. 

his thumb brushed gently over your cheek, “we’re leaving now.”

you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “now?”

“yeah, now.” rafe’s voice was resolute, leaving no room for argument.

he hoisted you up into his arms effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as if you weighed nothing. oh wow, you liked this.

“what are you doing?” you managed to gasp out, clinging to his shoulders for stability. he was so fucking strong it nearly made you want to eat him whole.

“taking you to bed,” he replied, his voice low, “we’ve got unfinished business.”

the walk to his dorm? you couldn’t remember.

you were acutely aware of the curious stares from other students, but you didn’t care. maybe the day after.

rafe cameron was carrying you on his arms inside his fraternity and when he finally reached his dorm, he kicked the door open with his foot, carrying you inside, before locking it. he set you down gently, his hands lingering on your waist as he stared into your eyes.

there was a fire there, an intensity that made your knees weak.

“that wasn’t fair, y’know."

your brows furrowed in confusion.

“tempting me for weeks.”

“well—i didn’t think—nmph!”

his lips were on yours again, the kiss just as desperate as before. you melted into him, your body pressing against his as you gave in to the sensation of his hands exploring your back, pulling you closer. your fingers fumbled to remove his shirt. he’d showered after the game but you were still wearing his jersey. he helped you, pulling it off in one swift motion, revealing the chiseled muscles beneath. you couldn’t help but run your hands over his chest, enjoying at the hard planes of his body.

his hands found the hem of your own jersey, “you’re gonna wear this to every game, you hear me?”

you tilted your head to the side, in mock confusion, “who said i'm going to your games?”

he chuckled, the sound deep and vibrating against your skin as his hands worked to pull the jersey over your head.

“oh, baby. you will. you won’t be able to stay away.”

“confident, are we?” you teased, even as your breath hitched at the way his hands roamed over your now-bare skin, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“you’ll see.”

he was kissing you.

again.

more insistent, like he couldn’t get enough of you, and you reveled in the feeling of being wanted so intensely. his hands slid down to your hips, gripping you firmly as he lifted you, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist.

you felt the hard press of him against you, a reminder of just how much he wanted this—wanted you. he carried you over to the bed, laying you down with surprising gentleness despite the urgency in his movements.

 he hovered over you for a moment, his gaze roaming over your body, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice low and husky as he trailed kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he went along.

you arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. “then stop talking and show me.”

that was the only warning rafe needed.

his hands were everywhere—tugging at your shorts, tracing the curves of your body, driving you wild with anticipation. he finally rid you of your remaining clothes, and you couldn’t help but shiver as the cool air hit your heated skin. but it didn’t last long, not with his body pressing against yours, his warmth enveloping you.

you lost yourself in the sensation—the taste of him, the feel of his hands gripping your thighs, the way he pressed into you.

“are you sure?” he asked, his voice a breathless whisper against your lips, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt.

“god, yes,” you all but mewled, your hands clutching at his sheets, needing him to just do something, “need you to touch me right now.”

his fingers trailed down your body with deliberate slowness, “tell me how.”

you could barely form a coherent thought, let alone articulate what you needed. your mind was a haze of want and need, every nerve ending screaming for him.

but somehow, you managed to speak, “everywhere.”

a slow, predatory smile spread across his lips, and he dipped his head to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, drawing a gasp from your lips. his hand moved to your other breast, squeezing and kneading as his mouth worked its magic. 

“like this?” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing.

son of a bitch.

“yeah, oh, just like that,” you breathed, your fingers threading through his blonde hair, holding him close. “don’t stop.”

he didn’t.

his mouth and hands continued their relentless assault on your senses, driving you up the fucking walls. his lips trailed down your stomach, planting wet, open-mouthed kisses that left a trail of fire in their wake.

oh you needed to be fucked all right.

when he reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, his breath ghosting over your most sensitive area. 

“rafe,” you pleaded, your hips lifting off the bed in a silent demand, “don’t be a dick.”

he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “so needy,” he teased, but his voice was filled with reverent awe.

without further warning, he buried his face between your thighs, his tongue delving into your folds with a hunger that made you cry out. he licked and sucked, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as he devoured you. 

this man ate pussy like the champion that he was and you loved it.

his tongue flicked against your clit with precision, with ease. rafe was relentless, his mouth working you to the brink, then easing off just enough to keep you on edge.

“fuck, rafe,” you gasped, your hips bucking against his face, desperate for more.

he growled in response, the vibration adding another layer of pleasure, and you felt yourself hurtling toward the edge. he must have sensed it, because his pace quickened, his tongue moving in perfect rhythm with the throbbing need building inside you.

your head was spinning as you looked down at him and met his heavy-lidded gaze searing a path straight to your core. you could only grab his bicep for stability, digging your nails into his skin.

and then, with a final, well-placed flick of his tongue, you came apart, your body trembling as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. rafe didn’t stop, didn’t let up, riding you through your climax until you were a boneless, quivering mess beneath him.

you never came so fast in your life. 

when he lifted his head, his lips glistened with your arousal as he crawled back up your body. he kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. you whimpered into his mouth, the sensation of his weight pressing you into the mattress grounding you as you came down from your high.

“holy shit,” you breathed when he finally pulled back, his eyes dark with lust and satisfaction. “good job, cameron.”

he grinned, a boyish, cocky smile that somehow made you want him even more. “glad you enjoyed it,” he murmured, his voice a rough, sexy whisper against your lips.

you reached down, fingers fumbling with the waistband of his shorts, desperate to feel him inside you.

“your turn,” you pulled his shorts down enough to free his cock. it sprang free, hard and heavy, and you couldn’t help but wrap your hand around it, stroking slowly.

oh wow.

so big big.

your hand moved around rafe’s cock lazily, feeling its weight and heat in your palm. he hissed through his teeth, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your touch. you couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of him—so strong, so utterly at your mercy.

“fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” rafe muttered, his voice strained with need. he watched your hand with hooded eyes, his hips thrusting slightly in time with your movements.

you felt a surge of power, knowing you had this effect on him.

you grinned up at him, loving the way his breath hitched with every stroke. “don’t like it?”

his laugh was breathless, shaky. “oh, i do. but this—” he broke off with a groan as you squeezed him a little harder, “—this is something else.”

without breaking eye contact, you guided him towards your entrance, positioning him at your slick opening. he paused, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. 

“condom?” 

you nodded, your heart pounding in anticipation. “yeah.”

rafe reached over to the nightstand, fumbling for a moment before retrieving a condom. you watched, heart racing, as he tore open the foil packet with his teeth, the sound sharp and thrilling in the quiet of the room. he rolled it on swiftly, his movements sure and practiced. with the condom in place, he positioned himself between your legs.

he pushed into you slowly, inch by inch, stretching you until you thought you might break. the sensation was overwhelming, a delicious mix of pleasure and pain that made you gasp, you were holding on for dear life as he filled you completely.

“god, you feel so good,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. he stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to the size of him, his hands cradling your face tenderly. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you managed to say, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “’m good. just—move.”

rafe didn’t need any more encouragement.

he started to thrust, slow and deep, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him to go faster. his pace increased, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more frantic.

“can’t believe— fuck, oh, this is happening.”

“rafe,” you moaned, your voice breaking with every thrust. “just—don’t stop.”

his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit with unerring accuracy. he rubbed it in tight, relentless circles, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire being. 

“fuck, that’s it,” rafe groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic, his grip on your hip tightening ,“so fucking beautiful.”

his lips found yours in an all-spit kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that matched the relentless pace of his hips. your fingers dug into his shoulders as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak.

"oh fuck," you gasped, breaking the kiss as the sensations overwhelmed you, “rafe,” you gasped, your fingers digging into his back, “i’m—”

“i know,” he cut you off, his voice strained. “me too.”

you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, every nerve in your body on fire. and then you were falling, your orgasm crashing over you, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms.

your climax triggered his own, and seconds later with a few more powerful trusts, he buried himself deep inside you, body shuddering as he came, his moans low and hot in your ear.

you held onto him, feeling the rhythmic pulses of his release, the raw, primal intensity of it making your head spin.

for a moment, neither of you moved, both trying to catch your breath, your bodies still intertwined. then, rafe rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were lying against his chest.

you could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your cheek. you lay there in silence for a while, just enjoying the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest. you felt strangely happy, considering everything that had led to this moment, but you didn’t want to question it.

“so,” his fingers trailed lazily up and down your arm, “does this mean you’re coming to my next game?”

“not sure.”

the sensation of rafe still inside you, combined with the aftermath of your shared orgasm, left you both in a haze of pleasure.

but you weren’t done yet.

there was a need within you that demanded more, a desire to push the boundaries even further.

you slid out from beneath him, leaving him lying on his back. his blue eyes widened slightly as he watched you, curiosity and anticipation written all over his face. you settled yourself between his legs, your hands tracing the defined muscles of his abs before wrapping around his still-hard cock, after you pulled and tied the condom, throwing it into the garbage can in the corner.

“w—what are you doing?” 

you didn’t answer right away.

instead, you focused on stroking him slowly, your hand gliding up and down his length, feeling the pulse of his desire beneath your fingers. rafe groaned, his head falling back against the pillows, his hips lifting slightly in response to your touch.

overstimulation was a bitch. so were you sometimes.

“you won, right?” you replied, your voice sultry. “here’s your prize.”

his breath hitched, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “are you trying—oh fuck. trying to kill me?”

you smirked, increasing the pace of your strokes, your thumb circling the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the pre-cum that had gathered there. “is that a complaint?”

“not even close,” he managed to say, his voice strained.

you could see the tension building in his body, his muscles tensing, his breaths coming faster. you leaned down, letting your tongue flick over the head of his cock, tasting the salty sweetness of him. he jerked, a guttural groan escaping his lips, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him.

“baby,” he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as you took him deeper into your mouth, your hand still working the base of his shaft, “shit.”

you reveled in the power you had over him, the way his body responded to your every touch, your every movement.

you bobbed your head, taking him as deep as you could, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked him hard. his hands moved to your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you, but not forcing you.

it only made him hotter.

the sounds he made, the way he writhed beneath you, only spurred you on. you wanted to push him over the edge, to see him come again because of you. you pulled back slightly, your hand pumping him faster, your mouth focusing on the sensitive head, your tongue swirling around it, teasing him mercilessly.

“’m so close,” he gasped, his grip on your hair tightening. “please, don’t stop.”

you had no intention of stopping. 

you increased your pace, your hand and mouth working in perfect harmony, driving him towards his release. you felt his body tensing even more, his breaths coming in ragged pants, and then he was coming, his cock pulsing in your mouth as he spilled himself into you with a hoarse cry.

you swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of him, the satisfaction of knowing you had pushed him to this point. when you finally pulled back, rafe was a panting mess, his eyes half-lidded, his body trembling.

“you just made me fall in love with you, again.”

"what?"

[leqonsluv3r]

Can I pls request one where Leon is obsessed with his wife’s small baby bump? Like especially when she wears dresses he just can’t stop staring 🧎‍♀️🌸

baby blues

—re4!leon kennedy!husband x pregnant wife!reader

— a oneshot (request)

warnings: MDNI, 18+, a lot of fluff, leon being the best baby daddy out there, reader kind of hates being pregnant at times, reader deals with some body issues and how their body is changing, leon is so sweet and supportive, gives cocky hot dad vibes, mentions of pregnancy pain, oral (f receiving), breast play, lots of kissing and praise, mentions of past sex, mentions of doctors offices, cursing, leon and reader being the cutest little husband and wife out there.

“you had tried. tried stretching, tried taking a pill and had tried sleeping. but everything hurt. everything. your feet, your head, your back and especially your breasts. it felt like something was tugging and poking at all the soft parts of your body. it was torture, almost. if there wasn’t a handsome man next to you, rubbing your back as you laid on your side. leon dulled the ache a little, he looked at you still like the day he met you four years ago, even when you were pregnant, fat and you felt like death had taken over certain parts of your body. leon still looked at you like you were the most precious thing. and it made you wanna cry, scream and kiss him all at the same time.”

— or reader gets pregnant and tries to come to terms with it and leon has no problem helping her out

masterlist taglist

an: thank you for the request anon <33 hope you enjoy it. this was such a cute little thing to write. might make a headcanon list soon just for this specific request :,)

you and leon had talked about kids, about babies.

about the joy it would bring both of you to have something made by the two of you. to make you both enjoy the ties of your marriage and love.

you, however didn’t expect to get pregnant so soon after your marriage. but leon…leon was hard to resist and your body craved him and it was your choice. a choice that you made over and over and over again.

until two lines changed his life and yours entirely, it was hard ignore how the both of you panicked. the excitement, nerves and the rushing of your heart beating accelerated as you stared at the test…four month ago.

you both had been so careful, so very careful, but in one night of heated touches and sloppy kisses, you decided to fuck the condom and just deal. thinking the birth control you took would be enough, but it…it was not. definitely not.

you dealt with being pregnant like a champ, or tried to. you were sore now, you were fatter and you felt like a truck had hit you when you simply moved to grab something.

you loved the idea of carrying a child in retrospect, when leon had pounded you into the mattress many times before, thinking and muttering all the obscene words and images about breeding you. you literally keened at the idea, but now, now that you were here and doing it, you wanted to rip this kid out of you.

you hurt every moment of everyday, you were tired and hungry and whenever you saw that stupid ASPCA commercial on the tv with the dogs, you started bawling like a child. it was obnoxious and to think it would only get more strenuous as the moments that passed was literal torture.

and the doctors appointments, the vitamins you had to take and the way your body changed. it was a lot to handle, you had leon. you had him to help but sometimes it didn’t feel like it was enough. you couldn’t dress like you usually did anymore and could only wear the sundresses and other dresses you had hanging in your closet.

it felt like you were playing dress up, but it was the only thing you were comfortable in these days. the only thing that fit over the bump. the only thing that made you feel pretty and not like an inflated blimp.

and the one thing besides the pain, the bloating and the never ending amount of morning sickness you’ve had to deal with…the one thing you held onto was by the end of it you would get to be a mom. leon would get to be a dad, that was the only thing that kept you tethered to reality these days.

but leon enjoyed the sight of you in your dresses, that was one thing that also kept you tethered. the way he still ate you alive with his eyes, scouring you still as if you haven’t changed at all. you would always find his blue eyes piercing into your pregnant frame whenever you’d slip on a dress for the day or when you were bare and just got out of the shower.

it made you more aroused then usual, the only thing worse was the leon never acted on it. he never once stopped you and brought you to your guys bedroom. he never offered to eat you out anymore. you didn’t know why he was staring but wouldn’t act. was he worried that he’d hurt you? or the baby? you didn’t know, you had no clue.

but it was festering, each look he gave you in your pretty little dresses with your bump of pregnancy was making your skin hotter everyday. you didn’t know how much longer of this pregnancy you could take if he didn’t act on his desires. most importantly, your own.

two weeks, later and your sick of everything.

your sick of walking, your back pain, the peeing every five minutes. just everything makes you annoyed or feel like your going to crawl out of your own skin. you don’t get comfort in bed, you toss and turn. you’re then frustrated because you can’t sleep on your stomach, you wanna rip this baby out of you and it’s only the four month mark.

leon is a saint though. he’s bringing you food, rubbing your feet, holding your hair back when you throw up from the morning sickness. you feel bad for being such a bitch, for being so mean and hormonal. you try not to snap or throw a hissy fit.

but it’s hard.

you’re also sick of the doctor asking you twenty million questions when you go to your next appointment. already fed up from lack of sleep and your bowel movements. the baby is healthy, so everyone is happy. just not you.

another thing, leon keeps eyeing you and basically fucking you with his eyes. another thing that’s just adding up into your short limit of patience. you wanna scream at him to just fuck you, do something. you need a release. and if you could do it on your own, you would. but you can’t even see over your stomach or much less reach it.

so your just stuck feeling pent up and frustrated with everything. until one day, one day you just snap. you just lose your shit. you don’t remember what really caused it to happen, maybe it was the fact that you saw leon wearing only a towel after his shower, practically making you drool.

but you lost it. you just lost it, for absolutely no reason at all.

“can you stop looking at me like that?” you say softly as you look over at him, your being patient, so patient at this point and it makes you wanna scream or cry. he’s digging for something in your shared dresser drawer at this point, minding his own business.

leon looks behind him, over his shoulder to where you sit on the bed. he raises a small brow, “i’m not even looking at you, baby. i’m getting clothes.” he says with a small hint of amusement in his voice.

“you know what i mean, leon.” you say in a annoyed tone as you shift on the bed, the many pillows for your back pain and a heating pad pressed up against it. you opted for a t-shirt of his and underwear, the only two things besides dresses that you could really stand these days.

he grabs his boxers and takes off his towel, you try to ignore the arousal that’s literally pooling uncomfortably in your underwear as you see it. your trying to stay annoyed, stay focused, but his dick is just right there. so far out of your reach but so close and you just want to pounce on him.

“i can’t stare at my beautiful wife now?” he says with a small notch in his brow, pulling his boxers up over his dick, making you disappointed and snap back into what was currently happening. you huff and rub your bump, shifting against the heating pad and pillows.

“no, you can.” you say with a small glare in his direction, “but if your not gonna do something about it, i’d rather you tell me then just…” you trail off when he crawls on the bed next to you, sitting beside you. “angel, you have something you wanna share with me?” he says in that low and intimate tone that gets your insides all bubbly.

you gnaw on your bottom lip in contemplation, “no. i don’t.” he chuckles lowly and moves even closer to you on the bed, putting his hand on your thigh and squeezing. “i hardly believe that, baby. no offense.” he says softly as he presses a kiss to your ear.

you were going to jump him if he didn’t stop this, he was teasing you. he had to be, it was ridiculous that he couldn’t even see how miserable this was making you. “can you just…?” you start and fail pathetically as you try to squirm into his touch more on your thigh.

“can i just what?” he says in a soft timbre into your ear, almost daring and pushing you to say it. to ask. you were beyond irritated and wound up now. everything hurt and your body felt hot. “can you please touch me?” you say softly, you sound whiney and desperate and it’s nothing like you. but a part of you really didn’t care anymore.

you hormonal, achy and moody beyond relief. you just wanted him to touch you, to fuck you even. it was getting annoying how much your body had craved him since you became pregnant.

he didn’t move his hand from your thigh, his breath still ghosting over your ear and the side of your face. “i am touching you, love.” he says with an arrogant smirk against your skin.

arrogant bastard. you thought to yourself, you were brazen in the moment. “it hurts, leon. just…please?” you practically whined in that moment, you didn’t like the teasing. not when your patience was already short enough as it was.

he pressed a tender kiss to the side of your head, “what hurts, baby?” he says softly as he rubs his hand up her thigh and over her bump, soothing tender circles over your body and the baby beneath.

you don’t even care anymore, the soothing feeling of his hand over your t-shirt was enough. your cheeks were red though and you guided his hand up to your swollen breasts beneath your (his) t-shirt that you wore.

“oh, honey.” he sighs softly in a contented whisper against your head, pressing a small kiss to your hairline. he doesn’t move his hand on one of your swollen breasts, just rests his hand there as if he’s just supporting it with his large hand over the fabric.

“leon…please, it hurts.” you hear yourself breathe out in a whimper, one of pain or of desire, you didn’t know. you didn’t care to know right now. “hold on, hold on.” he mumbled softly as he shifted next to you, getting closer to your side, he adjusted himself on the pillows next to you.

“can’t deny my pretty little wife. can i?” he says into your ear with a small nip as his hand squeezed and kneaded one of your swollen breasts. you couldn’t help the sound that came out of you, a mix of relief and desire that you didn’t know you could make.

he moves his lips to press against your neck, nipping and licking as he kneads your breasts, trying to make the pain subside as you moan. “feels s’good…” you mumble in between small noises.

“i know, i know. sorry, for teasing you all this time.” he mumbles into your neck, “gotta stop teasing you…” he mumbles again in between kisses as he presses one more kiss under your ear.

his hands working up your swollen and aching breasts, you could feel your panties practically dripping with release. you grab at his bicep, curling around the muscle there for balance. “please…” you whimper softly.

he moves his lips up to your ear, “what do you want? use your words, baby.” he nips at your earlobe and keeps kneading your breasts, alleviating some of the ache there.

you grip down on his bicep harder, your hormones from the pregnancy were going crazy at his touch. “anything…something, please.” you whine softly near his ear as you almost draw blood. you just needed a release and you weren’t going to get far with him kneading your breasts.

“how about i eat out that pretty pussy? hmm?” he practically purrs into your ear as one of his hands leads down from your breasts to beneath the covers. your soaked underwear beneath your rotund belly, he finds it. an amusing sound leaving his mouth at your ear, tracing the pads of his fingers over your wet slit of your underwear.

his words and his touches having a disastrous affect on your pregnant body, you felt like a match that he was striking with flame and then putting out. it was so much in the best way possible.

you just nod rapidly, emitting a small whine as you clutch his bare bicep harder. “okay, pretty girl.” he presses another kiss to your ear, smirking to himself. he traces your wet slit again, marveling at how soaked you were for him.

“practically drenching your underwear, this all for me?” he muses as he pulls back on the bed next to you, pushing the covers back from your body. your hand falling down to the sheets beneath you, “yes…” you manage to get out as he clicks his tongue. a growl almost rose from his mouth as he gets farther back on the bed, moving in between your knees.

he sees the wet patch that’s soaking your underwear, he knew you were hormonal from the pregnancy. but god, how much arousal could form just from you looking at him? it needed to be studied, but he couldn’t help but feel his ego and confidence inflate.

your bodies reaction to him would always be something he’d never get tired of. especially now when you were drenching your pretty panties.

“fuck, baby. missed this sweet pussy.” he rasps as he looks up at you with hooded blue eyes, his pupils dilated. you knew that look well enough to know that he was going to give you what you both wanted.

release.

you mewl, “please, leon. don’t wanna beg…” you try to reach down to yank his hands or his head closer but your pregnant belly stops you. he puts a hand on the inside of your thigh, “no begging required. i’m going to eat out my pretty pregnant wife. i’m hungry anyways.” he smirks devilishly as he massage the meat of your thigh.

he doesn’t waste anytime, your head hits the mountains of pillows behind you. your chest rising and falling fast beneath his t-shirt that your wearing. his hands come up to the waist band of your underwear and slowly pull them down over your hips and bent legs.

your bare pussy is on display now and you feel the cold air hit your most private parts, ones that he’s seen before but now…now that you were pregnant and carrying his child…things were different. you looked more delicious now, looked more like he could eat you out for days. eat you and fuck you until the baby came.

god help him.

he doesn’t waste anytime, none whatsoever. he’s going to give you what you want. he rubs his fingers through your arousal, spreading it everywhere and teasing you just a bit longer.

you whine, “leon, please…just stop. i want it.” he looks up at you from where he’s laying on the mattress in between your bent legs. “i know baby, just admiring how beautiful you are…everywhere.” he smirks to himself and presses a kiss to the hood of your clit.

you moan a little, he clicks his tongue. “so sensitive.” he muses, “good to know some things never change after pregnancy.” he whispers as he presses another kiss to your clit.

“fuck…leon…” you whine softly, clenching the sheets beneath you. your hormone fueled body making you out to be this whiny monster.

he just chuckles against the skin of your dripping pussy, “just sit back and relax, sweet girl. i’ve got you.” he says as he runs his hands up to the sides of your hips, holding you steady as he dips his head down.

he starts licking a long stripe up from your drenched opening to your clit, your head tilting back as you moan loudly. you never failed to amaze him, get him hard and all worked up. you both had that affect on each other, good to know it was still intact.

how had leon not done this yet? not touched you this way yet when you’d been pregnant? you were like putty in his hands right now.

he felt like an idiot.

a large one. 

he stuck his tongue into your soaked opening and licked, fucking you with his tongue as you clenched the sheets harder beneath you. “fuck, want…uhh, so fucking good!” you moan loudly, practically screaming.

he just keeps fucking you with his tongue, almost rutting his boxer clad erection into the mattress. he reached one hand down to rub his thumb over your clit, still fucking you with his tongue.

your back arches a little, as much as it can without you hurting yourself. a white knuckled grip on the mattress is all you have as he ravishes you, keeps his tongue and fingers working you into oblivion as you writhe and moan underneath him.

“leon! uhh…fuck…” you babble nonsense as you feel the coil start to build in your lower abdomen, you had never come this fast before. but the fact that you were pent up, more hormonal then usual and he was working you open with his skilled mouth and fingers…

you were fucked, figuratively and literally.

he took his tongue out of your opening moving the finger that was on your clit, down to your soaked opening. his fingers working you open now, sliding one in which causes you to release a long moan, his name rolling off of your tongue.

his mouth attaching itself to your clit and licking, sucking and swirling his tongue. he was smirking as he did it. knowing that he was gonna feel you come all over his fingers and face.

he could do this forever, keep you pregnant forever just so he could hear those pretty little sounds you made when you’d fall apart beneath him.

he kept moving his pointer finger in and out, swirling his tongue over your swollen clit as you moaned obscenely, thanking god and him and his mouth.

“just…yes! fuck! gonna cum!” you babble again, losing all rational thoughts as he continued to lick and rub and finger you. you felt helpless under his touch, but in the best way. the way that made you and the unborn baby inside of you feel safe and cherished, loved even.

he just kept it up, only breaking his licking at your clit to talk you through it, “good girl, pretty little wife gonna cum all over my fingers? huh?” he says with a raspy voice, his lips stained in a gloss of your arousal.

you moan softly in response and nod, your eyes fluttering open and shut, your pussy clenching around his fingers. pulling them out just to push another long inside of you and curl your fingers upwards until he found your magic spot.

you whine at that, smacking a hand down on the sheets underneath you. “there it is…” he muses in a low tone, “good girl, maybe if your really nice i’ll pump another baby into you tomorrow.” he says with a smirk.

you moan, “fuck…yes!” you yell out, the idea of him fucking you and promising to get you even more pregnant…it was making that band inside of you get closer to snapping.

“you’d like that wouldn’t you? filling you up with my big cock and pumping you full of my cum?” he teases as he keeps fucking you with his two fingers, the noise of your arousal would normally be a turn off but you were so close to release that you didn’t care anymore.

you moaned and nodded dumbly in response, his free hand sliding from your hip to rub over the swell of your belly. “pump another baby into you, fuck, you’d love that.” he says lowly.

“i-i would…fuck, want more babies…” you whine softly as you writhe more, some tears leaking out of your eyes. he almost growls at that, pumping his fingers harder inside of you and rubbing that sweet spot that makes you see stars.

he knew you were close, knew you were going to reach that point that made you all blissed out and needy. “cmon baby, come all over my fingers. know you can.” he encouraged with a kiss to your clit, his free hand still rubbing over your belly.

all it took was him talking more, working you up with his sweet words and his fingers hitting the mark over and over again inside of you. you moaned loudly, clenching around his fingers. your release coating all over his digits.

he didn’t say anything, just worked you through it until overstimulation set in, removing his fingers from you. he brought them both up and licked the release from his fingers.

you watched him with undivided attention, your eyes lazily opening and closing in the haze of your orgasm. he smiled softly and crawled from in between your legs to rest over you, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“don’t you ever think for one second that i don’t want to fuck you, taste you or do that. i love you and i love making you fall apart. you being pregnant…has nothing to do with me holding off.” he says in a reassurance, pressing another small kiss to your lips.

being mindful as he leaned over you not to disturb the bump of your belly. your eyes locked on his as he looked down at you, “i’ve just been stressed and on edge with prepping for the baby. it’s had absolutely nothing to do with you being pregnant.” he says softly, reaching a hand up and running it through the hair at the base of your skull.

“your so beautiful, so fucking beautiful. i know you don’t see it these days. but you are even hotter now that your carrying my baby, our baby.” he explains with a gentle smile, making some water prick into your eyes.

“so don’t think for one second that i find you unattractive or that i’m teasing you on purpose.” he says with another small peck to your lips, “you understand me?”

you nod slowly as you look up at him, blinking the small amount of water away from your eyes. you should’ve never doubted him, should’ve never thought that about yourself.

and he hated that, hated that he made you doubt yourself and your body for one second. you were so beautiful, you were his and he loved you. he had loved you long before you both spoke your vows in front of god and each other.

he loved you so much, as much as you loved him. so he rolled off from hovering on top to you, cuddling his body next to yours, letting himself wrap his strong arms around your pregnant body.

he wanted to hold you close to his heart, he always did inside. he always kept you there because that’s where you deserved to be. you were his wife and the mother of his (soon to be) child.

he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, pulling the covers back up over you and him, cuddling you close. his hand rubbing over your belly with the fabric of his own t-shirt covering it. “your so very beautiful, baby. i love you so much. even when you don’t see it.” he says against the side of your head, pressing another kiss there.

you melted into his arms, your eyes fluttering close in exhaustion and in content. you didn’t feel so insecure and anxious anymore. you knew that he had been off, but he was just as stressed as you. he had to be, you were going to be a mom and he was going to be a dad.

it was a lot of pressure.

but as long as you both had each other, you knew you guys could do it. the rings on your hands symbolizing the best and worst parts of you and him, the parts that you accepted and promised to love forever.

and with him, it would never be scary. not if you had a husband like leon, and he would love you just as much as the baby inside of you.

it was a part of both of you, that could never be unloved. not if either of you had anything to say about it.

an: hope you guys enjoy. i couldn’t deny a double upload this week, my bad lol. i love you guys so much and i hope you enjoyed. happy friday!! i’m gonna be opening my requests again soon. i wrote this when i was ovulating so no harsh judgement. please reblog and like, kisses. xx.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @argreion @sqiim @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl (if you wanna be on my taglist interact with the link at the beginning)



[amazinglyashy]

Hello! Could I make a request with Sylus where the reader/MC becomes really close with the twins (platonically). They’re always up to shenanigans together but Sylus doesn’t realize how come they are until he finds them in a cuddle pile sleeping ☺️ Maybe he’s irritated at first that the boys are cuddling his woman but I think his heart would warm knowing the people closest to him get along like that

This was so sweet, I loved receiving something for the twins, especially as someone who's so big on physical affection, and especially with my friends <33 Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!!

If it makes you smile-

Read on AO3

Pairings: Sylus x Reader, Luke and Kieran & Reader

Wordcount: 1,031

Sylus was more than aware that the twins could be childish.

More than aware.

And he knew they would oftentimes drag you into their shenanigans- no matter what said shenanigans were. It could be something on a grander scale, such as when you all… pranked, a local, low-ranking crime lord, unbeknownst to Sylus himself until long after the act had been committed. Rigged explosives of confetti and dynamite were what he had heard about, through the grapevine of Elysium. Other times it could be quite innocent, like when he had heard about the time the three of you had gone through his list of trustworthy informants and ding-dong ditched every single one of them, like going through a hitlist with so much less bloodlust.

He had needed to explain himself and his henchmen in order to rebuild so many relationships, and it was no surprise just how many of your little endeavors had left him with inconvenient little annoyances.

But when it was you involved, how could he ever be mad at you?

And that was quite similar to how he was feeling right now, staring down in the living room of the main safe house that he used as a base of operations, fire crackling behind him as it warmed the room from the hearth. Pure velvet couch cushions, silken pillows, and cheap arcade plushies were strewn everywhere like a middle school sleepover pillow fight had taken place in the comforts of his own home, rich designer furniture and décor be damned. There were even some fresh blankets that looked like they had been previously put into a position to create the roofing of a fort, long since torn down in the aftermath of a plush war.

And in the center of it all?

Three people, all draped across each other. Mixed in with all of the blankets, pillows, and plushies that already were scattered around the room- just how many had the three of you collected from around the house…?- Luke and Kieran were out cold, obviously more tired from the mission Sylus had given them the night before than they would have ever admitted to his face. Kieran's head was pressed up against the side of the couch, his chin touching his chest as his arms crossed over it, looking perfectly comfortable despite the severe angle his neck was bent at. His mask was nowhere to be seen, and Sylus wondered if it had been collateral damage in the hard-won battle.

Meanwhile, Luke was across his lap, a hand behind his head as his own mask hung half-off his face, his mouth wide open as he snored. He seemed to be a lot more comfortable than his twin- maybe a bit too comfortable, his other arm was wrapped around you, holding you against him even despite the small amount of drool coming from your mouth that was pooling along his shirt.

That wasn't anything that surprised Sylus, he had known you were tired when you had left for work early in the morning when he had just been heading to bed for a nap, and that was before your already long shift headed into overtime. He'd felt a bit guilty climbing under the warmth of the covers as he heard you rustling around the room and getting dressed, but there wasn't any way he could have helped it. And then he had been too busy to have dinner with you, so he had sent Luke and Kieran home to try and cheer you up, and make sure you had help with anything you may need with how exhausted you would be. He'd been zeroed in on getting his work done in order to come home shortly after them, but even still- it had gone longer than expected, and he was at the end of his rope with the idiots he had been dealing with by the time he was finally done.

He wasn't… expecting this outcome in front of him by the time he got home, per say. But it didn't catch him off guard. He'd long since known how much you loved the twins- they were a connection you'd never had before, and filled the void inside of you that Sylus himself couldn't even fill, being your romantic partner already. They were something familial and familiar, something you had sought after for year after year, and finally found in the two of them. He was happy to see that your day filled with overwork had turned into something fun and sweet, if the plushie causalities were anything to go off of.

Still, he couldn't help the little pang of jealously sneaking into the corners of his heart.

He didn't care for it, he found it unbecoming- especially with how much he knew about your lived experiences and the hardships you had dealt with- that you were still dealing with somehow, despite looking so careless as you did now among old Christmas blankets pulled out of storage for a fort that most children dreamt of, not adults. Not adults that went through so much pain-

At least, that's what most would think. Including himself, ages ago. Back before he had met you. Back when he didn't know that sometimes, growing meant going backward, and enjoying the experiences you missed out on or simply missed. Before he realized how much healing you were working through, fighting your own little battles that he didn't even see.

And while Sylus himself was your prince charming, the twins had taken up the mantle of knights in your story.

They helped you in ways he couldn't- were there for you when Sylus couldn't be- or shouldn't be, and that was okay. It could be a hard pill to swallow, realizing that there were some things he just wasn't equipped to help you with, but it went down so much easier knowing one thing.

The one thing was just how loved you were.

And if the twins could help you with anything you were going through, Sylus could handle seeing a few more destroyed pillow forts. A few more cuddle piles of tired limbs and drool.

Anything, as long as it made you smile.