#i keep trying to think of ways i can fix it but lets be real theres no way out of that one

[sports-on-sundays]

this simple feeling / LN4 & OP81 / Part 3

Summary: Lando x female!Australian!McLaren marketing unit worker!reader x childhood best friend!Oscar - Two Formula 1 drivers who just so happen to race for McLaren also just so happen to have fallen for you. Link to part 1, link to part 2

Warnings: I think I might've messed up the timeline just alittle bit but that's okayyyy (probably should have all taken place like a week or two later but I only realized that after it was all written so I guess you'll just have to deal with it; I'm sincerely sorry), language, sickness, vertigo, let me know if there's more I missed

Requested?: To be honest, I don't think so, but let me know if I forgot about you.👍

A handsome smile adorns Lando Norris's lips as he strolls down the Spanish paddock, and it's extraordinary to believe that despite his outside cover, he has the most pounding headache.

It's all my fucking fault, his mind roars as he catches the eye of Max Verstappen walking past and gives him a friendly wave. Y/n is a nervous wreck over the whole situation, and Oscar seems like he's going to blow if he sees me show Y/n affection one more time.

Why did I ever fucking start this stupid, stupid 'relationship?' It's a mess, and it's all my fault.

And I've got no way of fixing it.

Maybe I should have just given up Y/n in the first place, before all this happened.

Maybe I am wrong for getting in the way of her and Oscar.

But a part of him knows that's not right. He could never give you up. You could never give him up. And neither of you could ever give up on Oscar.

Even though it's starting to look like that might just be the best for him. Or at least, the best option at this point.

After I've gone and messed it all up.

For once in his life, sleep won't just take Oscar Piastri.

It sounds stupid, because he shouldn't be going to sleep. Not here. Not now. But as he lay in his driver's room, all he wishes is for sleep to take him away from his never-ending thoughts into a peaceful, sweet, dreamless slumber.

But every time he tries to replace his current ones with new ones, his brain always leads him back to the main point:

You messed up.

He sighs. He's just being over dramatic, isn't he? Isn't that all it is? Shouldn't he just get over himself?

It's not that he doesn't like Lando. In fact, he does. A... well, a lot. He could see himself having real affection towards him.

He might even want to.

But that longing, confused part in his brain keeps coming back to: But what if Y/n loves him more? Isn't he just getting in the way of what you always wanted?

Isn't this unfair, Oscar?

But that's just the worst part of it all.

It's not unfair. Not one bit.

For your whole life, Oscar has known you. For years, he's cared about you. He's even loved you. He just never said it. Always held back. When he shouldn't have.

If he had just acted way before, in the beginning, it would've been just you and him. That's the way it would have been, and Lando would have never gotten in the way.

But, Oscar's brain whispers, almost like a sneaking suspicion, do you really want Lando out of this, now that he's in it?

Maybe I just have to learn to accept it. Accept him. Trust them both.

Do I just need to get over myself?

Because I am the only reason why this isn't working...

Right?

No one else can feel it, but it's getting awkward. Not even so much in private. In private, Lando is honest, and Oscar tries. In private, you see. They're not all lovey dovey, but they care about each other. It's like all is well, though you and Lando both know how Oscar can get.

But in public, it's worse. Terribly worse. It's like Lando and Oscar want to have something, but they can't. It's like Lando wants it but Oscar won't let him... and, at the same time, as if Oscar wants it but Oscar also won't let himself.

Why not?

In public, since they have to fake, it's like it's hard not to. Because they're closer than friends, but not more than that.

In private, they're trying to fake, so it almost comes easier.

But in public, they almost avoid each other at the same time as being super friendly with each other when they do have to talk.

You hate it.

A huge part of you wonders: If Oscar likes Lando back, why doesn't he just relax and let this whole thing work? Doesn't he need it?

Doesn't he need Lando, just the same way I need him?

He certainly acts like it. Sometimes. The only solution you can think of, though a not very clear or perhaps not very accurate one, and one with certainly no answer, is this:

He wants you more than anything. But he needs Lando more than anything.

But because he wants you so bad, it hurts him to see Lando having you.

Though he has you, too.

But he can't let himself break out and let himself love Lando back, because his feelings towards you are so incredibly strong.

You sigh.

Oscar. Why can't you just give up? Give in? Why can't I show you just how much I adore you?

What do I have to do to show you?

Is there anything I can do that would be enough?

You sigh. What if you're all wrong? What if Oscar really can't love Lando back? What if this whole thing is bound to fail?

What if there's absolutely no solution?

As anxiety begins to fill your chest, you feel as though you're right back at square one again.

Why didn't I just choose, from the beginning? Wouldn't it have been better to break one of their hearts, than all three of our hearts?

Because isn't that what is going on right now?

We're all breaking.

And we wouldn't be if I hadn't ever, ever let it get this fair.

Damn it.

It really is all my fault.

Maybe it's all the stress, or maybe it's just the natural way of things, but either way, by the time a week later that the Austrian Grand Prix comes around, you are in no world feeling well enough to go to it.

Of course, that's fine. You're sick; no one will have a problem with you staying home to rest up and get better. There are plenty of other people who can take care of your usual responsibilities for one race weekend. That's not really a big deal at all.

Of course, Lando and Oscar sure treated the whole thing as one, both of them talking about how one of them should stay with you, and how are you going to get on by yourself, and they feel like such bad boyfriends for leaving you in your unwell state, and so on. Blah, blah, blah.

Really, it was the sweetest thing. You know you shouldn't complain. But you did end up telling the two they were both wrong, not to worry, go race, and it's quite easy to FaceTime and stay in touch so they can check up on you over the weekend.

So despite whatever your boyfriends think about it, that's the decision you made sure was made, because there was no way you'd let either of them do something so ridiculous as to miss a race because of you.

Especially not the Austrian Grand Prix, for God's sake.

Well, whether Lando and Oscar would admit it or not, both of them, in their own little ways, see this as an opportunity for connection with each other.

One-on-one.

So now, of course, Lando has been the sole thing, other than racing, that's been on Oscar's mind all weekend. So much so that he finds himself wandering towards Lando's driver's room after qualifying, his heart leading the way more so rather than his head.

When he reaches the door, he finds it ajar, and peeks in through the door frame, his heart pounding.

Why is his heart pounding?

He swallows, his eyes resting on Lando relaxing, scrolling his phone. He hasn't seen Oscar yet.

Lando. There's a lot I like about him.

Let's just try this. Just for now, forget about Y/n. Think about Lando. Think about all the reasons why you care about him. Think about it as if it were just you and him.

Would you want it to work?

He knows the answer, but wouldn't dare let himself consciously think it.

Oscar gently knocks on the door, as to avoid startling Lando, before saying softly, "Hey, Lando?"

The British man immediately looks up, his hazel eyes meeting Oscar's plain old brown ones. Though he doesn't smile, his eyes soften. And brighten. "Hey, Oscar." He sits up a bit, as to make more room on the sofa. "Wanna come in?"

Oscar nods, stepping inside. Gently closes the door behind himself. Somehow, Lando seems to understand.

He sits down. Closer to him. Turns and looks him right in the eyes. Opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it when he realizes he has nothing to say.

Lando talks instead. "How are you?"

"Fine... and you?"

"Good... I think the race should be promising."

Oscar nods in agreement. The silence feels so simply empty.

"You missing Y/n? Is that what it is?" Lando gently asks.

Oscar considers that for a few seconds, before slowly shaking his head 'no.' "Of course, I wouldn't mind her being here. But that's not it."

"What's 'it,' then?" Lando asks.

Somehow, he just knows, doesn't he?

Oscar's starting to see why you might love that about him so much.

"It's not Y/n I'm missing. I guess I'm missing you. And me. I'm missing us."

"Hm," Lando says simply, seeming to ponder that for a few seconds, before saying softly, almost as a dare, "How could you miss 'us,' if 'us' was never a thing?"

Oscar feels the sudden urge to reach out towards Lando. Put his hand on his, or fix that loose curl, or do something.

But he holds back. Like he's always done with you.

God damn it. Am I really doing it again?

What am I even doing?

"I guess..." Oscar murmurs after some hesitation, staring down towards the tiled floor, "I miss the 'us' that could be and should be but never has been."

Oscar feels Lando look up towards him, but continues staring at the floor.

"Look at me."

But Oscar doesn't dare.

That's when Lando gently moves his hand to grab Oscar's chin and force his head to look at him. Not in an overly gentle way, but not in a way that hurts.

Oscar sighs. Those eyes.

When did he start liking them so much?

"We can make that reality," Lando murmurs, in the same determined way he talks about sports, or strategies. "We can make it happen. You don't have to miss me, or Y/n, and we can make 'us' come true."

Oscar gulps. Nods, though he knows not why.

Maybe it's because I really do want it.

I do, don't I?

Us.

Lando reaches over and grabs Oscar's hand strongly. Wraps his hand around the other man's. "This simple feeling..." Lando whispers. "Don't you like it?"

Oscar swallows. "I don't know if I like it, but..."

Lando waits for him to finish, even after he's trailed off.

"...but I think I know that it's exactly what... what I need."

Lando sighs. A little smile even begins to sneak up on his lips, just gently. Softly. Hardly there.

That's when he leans in and pulls him into a hug. And embrace. And it's refuge that Oscar finds there, in his arms. The same kind of irreplaceable refuge he finds in your arms. He sighs, wrapping his arms back around Lando, feeling the warmth of his body around him like a blanket.

"This simple feeling," Oscar murmurs this time, mirroring Lando's words, swallowing, his voice cracking softly, though tears don't threaten to fall.

It's just a little raw.

"This simple feeling... it's exactly what I want. What I need. From both of you.

"It's like I'd be content if we let this last forever," Oscar finishes softly with, close to Lando's ear.

"We can make it last forever," Lando utters back.

And all time stops in that little room as the two men embrace. A cavern of honesty and truth.

A safe place that promises to hold them forever.

It's funny how someone's cares and concerns can be washed away so quickly.

Like, for example, Oscar's podium at the Austrian Grand Prix in 2024, seeing his team grin up at him, spraying the champagne with George and Carlos, the joy of getting second place.

Partially, also, the joy of being the one to score points for the team.

But once that's all done and he's talking and doing all that PR, it starts nagging at him. You're not here, which means Lando's all alone.

Probably fucking pissed off.

P20.

So it's a mix. He got 2nd! But Lando got 20th.

So he tries to get through all the PR gobbly-gook as fast as possible, while still putting on a good face, since he knows you'll particularly care a lot if he screws up all his interviews the one race you weren't able to make it.

As soon as he's set free from his duties, though, he rushes to Lando's driver's room. On the way, someone even grabs his arm, saying, "Oscar! Oscar! An autograph? Please?" but he brushes them off, saying, "If you stay around, I'll be back to give it to you!" before just running off again.

He honestly can't grasp why he's so particularly and intensely desperate to see Lando.

It's because he did something for me last night when I needed him. Now I can't just leave him when he needs me most.

Soon, he reaches the latched closed door and knocks hard, saying, "Lando? Are you in there?"

There's a few moments of silence, and for a moment Oscar's nerves tell him that Lando isn't even here, and that he ignored that fan for no reason at all, until those thoughts are interrupted with Lando responding with a heavy sigh in his voice, "Osc? You can come in."

Oscar sighs with a certain amount of relief before gently opening the door and letting it shut behind him.

Lando is standing, not facing Oscar, on his phone, texting. Head down.

"How're you-"

"Texting Y/n."

Oscar nods, slowly walking up behind him. He gently rests a hand on Lando's shoulder, and says softer, "What's she saying?"

"Everything she has to in order to try and make me feel less like shit."

"Is it working?"

Lando turns, looking over his shoulder back at Oscar with a wry smile, saying, "Not at all. Max is a fucking-"

"Cheater, aggressive driver, idiot, bad sportsman. I know that's everything you're going to say. You just need to blow off some steam, hm?"

Lando snorts, shutting off his phone, hanging his head. "I've had an hour and a half to do that since the race."

"It takes a while," Oscar says simply, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

Lando sighs, nodding. "I know... I guess I'm not even really that mad anymore. Just disappointed. And frustrated."

Oscar nods, glancing away, beginning to slip his hand off Lando's shoulder.

But Lando reaches back, slipping his hand over Oscar's to keep it there, dragging his other hand over his face with a heavy sigh

It's then that Oscar suddenly feels compelled to do something he never thought he would.

Yet he gives in, simply because it feels like exactly the right thing to do in the moment. So he wraps both arms around Lando from behind, pulling him towards himself, letting his nose and lips press against his neck, next to Lando's ear.

Lando sighs in something like contentment.

And Oscar feels himself smiling softly, before it quickly fades off, and he whispers gently in Lando's neck, "You're a good driver. You would've won that race. But I also know that means you'll be able to win the next one, hm?"

Lando nods, sighing. "You're right. I know you're right."

Oscar nods, murmuring, "But you have every right to be upset. And I'll be with you during that working through it as long as you want me to be."

Lando feels an unexpected smile begin to creep up on his face as he mutters, "I want you here with me every single moment you want to be here, Oscar."

"Yeah? It's funny how I've started to like to be with you more."

"I guess that's just my natural charm, hm?" Lando says softly, his smile growing.

Oscar can almost not believe how he naturally chuckles at that and responds softly, "I don't know about that..."

Lando is full on grinning now. That handsome, big, sunny smile of his. "Just ask Y/n about it. She'll tell you all about my charm."

"Hah," Oscar says sarcastically, but for some reason, instead of coldness, like that comment might used to have filled his chest with, he feels an undeniable, affectionate warmth fill his body.

A feeling that he seems to like a lot more.

He just re-wraps his arms around Lando and responds softly, "I'm sure Y/n would tell you all about my charm, too, Lando."

Lando smirks, glancing back at Oscar, meeting the Australian's milk chocolate eyes. "But you don't have to ask Y/n to hear about how charming you are, Oscar. I could talk about that all night." Lando's honestly not sure where all this bravery on his part is coming from, but he's honestly glad for it. Since it seems to be going down well.

Oscar's eyebrows raise as his light complexion becomes slightly flushed. "Hm. You could?"

"Oh yeah," Lando laughs a bit. A beautiful sound. Then the two remain in that peaceful silence, before Oscar lets his hands slip away from Lando gently.

Lando turns, taking the younger man's hand in his, looking earnestly into his eyes. "Hey. Congratulations on your P2, by the way. I was so caught up in my own shit, I completely forgot about your-"

"Don't worry," Oscar says, waving it off. "I don't mind. But thank you, anyway."

Lando grins, leaning in to kiss his cheek and saying simply, "No, thank you, Oscar. Look at the way you've managed to cheer me up like that, huh?"

Oscar smiles at that, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment, perhaps in something like peace, or trust, for him to murmur, "Not sure how that happened..."

"Guess it's just that charm of yours we previously discussed, huh?"

And Oscar's eyes flutter open just in time to see Lando peck his lips.

And with Oscar's face fire hydrant red and Lando laughs filling the small room, I'll leave it up to the reader to go and imagine what could've happened next.

Oscar and Lando get out of the car, Lando holding some flowers and Oscar a grocery bag of goodies.

"You ready?" Lando says with a little smile, nodding to Oscar.

"Can't wait to see her, despite the poor state she must be in," Oscar says with a nod, and is about to start walking, when he suddenly stops and, with only a moment of hesitation beforehand, holds his hand out to Lando to take.

Lando looks at the hand, before looking up at Oscar again, taking his hand, with a little grin. He gives him a nod, before the two head off towards the house, hand-in-hand.

You're awakened in your feverish state by the ringing of the doorbell. You know you should get up and at least look to see who it is, but at the same time, who could it be? You're not expecting anyone. So you opt for the easier decision to just assume it's something unimportant like the mailman or something and leave it, letting yourself drift back into your feverish half-sleep.

But just as you're about to fully drift back off into slumber, it rings again. You sigh and stand up with an ornery groan, dragging your shaky legs to the window, to peek out of it, to see what on earth is so important.

But you stop as soon as you see them.

Your boys.

Lando holding flowers.

And what's more, they're holding each other's hands.

And they both look completely comfortable with it.

Really? Even Oscar?

He's not that good of an actor!

Soft smiles adorn both their handsome, perfect faces, shining like a charming prince and a shining knight.

Your foggy brain doesn't take the time to consider which is the prince and which is the knight, and you instead rush to the door right away, unlocking it and exclaiming, "Lan! Osc!" You stumble a bit dizzily as your weakened legs threaten to give out, but Lando's arm is there to steady you right away, keeping you from falling.

"Hey, Y/n," Oscar says gently, putting his arm on yours as Lando plants a quick kiss on your forehead, asking, "You okay?"

You sigh, nodding, and saying after the wave of vertigo subsides, "Just still a bit sick."

"No kidding. My God. Let's get you back inside and in your bed," Lando says gently, letting you use his arm to steady yourself as the three of you head inside and to your bedroom.

Once you're there and crawling back into bed, Lando hands Oscar the flowers and says, reaching in the shopping bag, "Got you some chicken noodle soup, Y/n. Want me to make you some?"

"Oh, God," you murmur, sinking back down against the pillow, "Yes, Lando, that'd be great."

He nods and leaves, going off to do that, leaving you with Oscar.

The first thing Oscar does is say, taking the blanket from the bottom of the bed, "Want this on?"

You nod, sniffing up your stuffed up nose. He gently tucks you in, kisses your forehead right where Lando kissed it, and grabs a tissue for you, seemingly out of thin air.

If you weren't a bit feverish, maybe you would of just known he got it out of the shopping bag. But you kind of missed that detail.

"We got you flowers," Oscar says gently, sitting on the edge of the bed, next to you.

You smile softly, leaning up to smell the bouquet, saying weakly, "Aw... that's so lovely... You guys didn't have to."

He smiles softly. "We wanted to treat you. To show you how much we missed you this weekend." He brushes a strand of hair from your forehead, before frowning and murmuring, "You're really warm. Hey, I'll be right back, m'kay?"

You're not sure how long it takes, but in a bit, Oscar comes back to place a cool cloth on your forehead, and puts the flowers, now in a vase, next to you, on your nightstand.

"They're so pretty," you murmur softly, gratefulness to you warm in your voice.

Oscar smiles. "Pretty flowers for a pretty girl."

You smile softly, reaching to take his hand. "I like you like this."

"Like what?" his eyebrows raise.

"All soft. I like that."

He smiles. "Just taking care of you." He leans down and kisses your cheek, saying, "Can I get you anything? A drink? Water, tea?"

"Oh... I think I'm good. But thank you," you weakly smile.

He nods. "Are you comfortable? Do you want a fan, or another blanket, or anything?"

You shrug. "I dunno... Maybe a fan would be nice. There's a big one in the closet. Jus' put it on low."

He nods and immediately heads to do that. Once he's done, he goes straight to the windows, saying, "And the blinds? Are they good the way they are, or should I-"

"Oscar, Oscar," you say softly, giving a lazy wave of your hand. "None of that matter. Not really. I don't really care. Why don't you just stop worrying and running around and taking care of me and doing everything for just a moment and just come and be with me, huh? That's what I want for you to do the most. Just come be with me. Let's just talk, hm?"

Oscar blinks. "Oh. Of course." He nods, making his way across the room. As he settles down on the bed next to you, he says simply, "Sorry."

"Don't worry. I like it. You just need to give yourself a break, too. And I want to talk with you, Osc." You slip your hand in his.

He nods, and after a few seconds murmurs, "Maybe that's just what I want, too."

"See?" you smile softly up at him.

You sit together in silence for a bit, him gently rubbing your hand in his, before you finally think to ask, "So... How... How are things with you and Lando?"

"You noticed a change, didn't you, huh?"

"For the better. Unless I'm imagining. Or you suddenly became an amazing actor in one week."

He smiles, nodding. "Lando, he... I think we worked it out. I worked it out."

"Worked what out?"

"That I love you, and I might just love Lando, and that in order to love one, I've got to love the other."

You stare. "You... You and Lando?"

Oscar nods. "We talked. I think I can make this work now. Let this work. We can let this work."

You smile. "Hm. Really?" you look at him with fluttery eyes.

He shrugs, smiling softly. "I can't just care about myself. That's not what a relationship is about. Nor can I just care about you. Nor can I just care about Lando. It needs to be selfless, you know? We need to be there for each other."

You grin and murmur, "For some reason, Osc, I really wanna kiss you right now, but I'm sick. It's like you've just said what I've been dreaming for you to say for weeks now. Probably months."

He smiles, nodding. "I guess it was bound to happen. I just had some things to work through. And even though I don't even know how, and don't think he does, either, Lando helped me work through them, partially, too... Oh, and by the way, with the kiss thing?" he smiles, leaning down a bit closer, before murmuring, "I'm sure you won't get me sick. You're probably way past being contagious." And with that, he closes his eyes and leans in to kiss you gently.

It's then that Lando walks in and says with that cheeky smile of his, "Hey, lovebirds, can I get in on this? When's it my turn?"

You pull away from Oscar and tease, "Oh, get back in the kitchen!"

"Jeez! I guess I'll just eat your soup, then, if you're going to be like that!"

"Wait! No!" you say, reaching your arms out for the tray in his arms.

He chuckles, placing it in your lap, and says, slipping on the bed next to you, on the opposite as Oscar, "Did you really think I would eat your food?"

"You might..."

He grins. "I might."

"Hey!" you giggle, rolling your eyes.

Lando lays down next to you as Oscar says, "My goodness, Y/n, you're so peppy as soon as Lando enters the room. You were acting so sick before, just a few minutes ago!"

You grin, looking him over with a shrug, "I guess I liked the way you were treating me so softly and delicately. I didn't want you to stop feeling like you had to take care of me. Now, come on. You lay down next to me, too, won't you?"

Oscar smiles and does so, murmuring, "I guess I can't say no, huh?"

You smile, contented, shutting your eyes as you feel the warmth from both of them, on each of your sides, envelop you. "I guess not."

As you eat your soup, your boys snuggle up to you, their arms wrapping around you, and the three of you talk. Mostly about Austria, and then about he upcoming British Grand Prix in less than a week now, which you're sure you'll be healed up enough for, especially since getting there doesn't require any planes or airports. Sometimes, that can be the worst part of travelling to Grand Prixs far away.

Soon, though, you finish your soup, and sink back down into the pillows, letting the tiredness seize your body once more. As you begin to drift off, the last thing you whisper is, "I love you guys..."

On each side, you feel each of their lips gently kiss your cheeks, but you don't stay awake long enough to hear how they respond to that.

Here you are, with your two McLaren boys.

Sure, there'll be rough spots. Lots of them. Something like this doesn't promise to be easy.

But sometimes, the harder path is the better one in the end.

And right now, in this simple moment, it feels perfectly worth it.

Well, maybe perfectly imperfect.

But would you really want it any other way?

This simple feeling...

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

Alright so I've been working on some Christmas headcanons with the brothers and MC. What are they doing during the holidays? Well go ahead and find out. Enjoy! And Merry Christmas to everybody!

Contains: Brothers x GN!MC

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

Christmas activities

1. Decorating the Christmas tree

The living room of the House of Lamentation. Boxes of ornaments, tangled lights, and garlands are everywhere. The chaos has already begun.

MC: "Alright, everyone, let’s decorate the tree together! No fighting, okay?"

Lucifer: "Yes. Let’s try to behave like civilized beings for once. This tree should look elegant and—"

Mammon: "Aw, pipe down, Luci. It’s Christmas! Elegance is overrated!"

Lucifer: glowering "How many times must I tell you not to call me ‘Luci,’ Mammon?"

Mammon: grinning "Relax, Luci. It’s the season of joy, remember?"

Lucifer: clenching fists "Oh I am very joyful. Now stop before I throw you out."

Leviathan: hugging a star topper "While you two fight, I’ll be putting the Ruri-chan star on top of the tree. Everyone knows it’s the best choice!"

Mammon: "Not a chance, ya nerd! The Great Mammon’s gonna top this tree with somethin’ shiny and gold!"

Satan: rolling his eyes "Can you both stop shouting? I’m trying to hang these enchanted book ornaments."

Asmodeus: hanging ribbons "Oh, Satan, let me help with those! And look at these pink ribbons, MC—don’t you think they make the tree look fabulous?"

MC: laughing "They definitely make it stand out, Asmo."

Beelzebub: munching on popcorn garland "Do we really need the garland? It’s better as a snack."

MC: "Beel! At least save some for the tree!"

Belphegor: sprawled on the couch "I vote we just leave the tree half-decorated and call it minimalist."

Lucifer: pinching the bridge of his nose "Belphegor, get up and contribute. You too, Mammon, before I lose my patience."

Mammon: "Lose yer patience? Ya already look like yer about to blow a gasket, Luci."

Lucifer: glaring "Mammon…"

Satan: smirking "You’re holding up surprisingly well, Lucifer. But I wonder how long that will last."

Satan and Belphegor exchange mischievous looks as they string up the lights, clearly plotting something.

MC: "The ornaments are up, the ribbons are set, and the garland… well, Beel ate most of it. Time to light the tree!"

Lucifer: "I’ll do it. It’s safer in my hands, considering the incompetence of the rest of you."

Mammon: "Oi! I could do it just fine!"

Lucifer: ignoring him "Here we go—"

POP! The lights explode in a burst of sparks, plunging the room into darkness.

Lucifer: visibly shaking with anger "…What. Happened."

Mammon: snickering in the dark "Nice one, Luci! Ya fried the tree!"

Leviathan: "This is why I don’t trust anyone with technology!"

Satan: barely holding back laughter "It’s a real mystery. Who could have predicted this?"

Belphegor: grinning "Yeah, who could’ve guessed Lucifer would mess up something so simple?"

Lucifer: voice rising "Satan. Belphegor. What. Did. You. Do."

Satan: innocently "Us? Nothing, of course. Why would you assume we had anything to do with it?"

Belphegor: smirking "Just a harmless little spell. It’s Christmas, after all. Gotta keep things exciting."

Lucifer: furious "You call exploding lights harmless? Do you have any idea how close you both are to being punished?"

Mammon: laughing "Oh, this is great! Ol’ Luci’s about to lose it!"

Lucifer: snapping "One more word out of you, Mammon, and I’ll string you up with the lights!"

MC: stepping between them "Okay, everyone, calm down! Lucifer, let’s just fix the lights and try again. No more spells, no more pranks, and no yelling. Agreed?"

Lucifer: taking a deep breath "Fine. But this is your last warning, Satan. And you too, Belphegor."

Satan and Belphie exchange smug looks but stay quiet as the lights are repaired. When they’re plugged in properly, the tree lights up beautifully.

MC: "Wow! It actually looks amazing. Totally worth the chaos."

Mammon: "Yeah, all thanks to me."

Leviathan: "No way! The Ruri-chan star topper deserves the credit."

Asmodeus: "Excuse me, but it’s my ribbons that make it sparkle."

Beelzebub: "Or the snacks."

Belphegor: "Or the hilarious prank that almost made Lucifer explode."

Lucifer: glaring "Belphegor, you’re testing my patience."

MC: laughing "But we all came together in the end, and that’s what matters. Merry Christmas, everyone!"

Everyone: "Merry Christmas!"

2. Building snowmen gone wrong

The brothers and MC are outside in a snowy courtyard.

MC: "Let’s make snowmen! I bet I can make the best one."

Satan: rolling snow "Mine will be the most refined. Like a true work of art."

Leviathan: "I’m making a snow Ruri-chan!"

Mammon: "Heh, mine’s gonna look like me. Everyone’s gotta see the Great Mammon in snow form!"

Beelzebub: stacking snowballs "Can I make one shaped like a burger?"

Asmodeus: "Mine’s going to be the cutest snow angel you've ever seen."

Belphegor: lying in the snow "I’ll just make an impression of myself. That counts, right?"

MC: "Actually, I’m going to make mini versions of all of you!"

Lucifer: raising an eyebrow "This I have to see."

Time passes as everyone works on their creations. MC’s miniature snow brothers are surprisingly accurate.

Mammon: "Hey! My snow version’s smaller than Lucifer’s. What’s the deal, MC?!"

MC: laughing l "You’re still taller than Belphie."

Belphegor: smirking "Barely."

Asmodeus: "Look at mine! It even has a stylish scarf."

Satan: "And my snowman is reading a book, naturally."

Beelzebub: admiring his burger snowman "This is making me hungry…"

Lucifer: "At least this is one activity where no one caused any—"

A snowball suddenly hits Lucifer in the face.

Mammon: snickering "Oops. My hand slipped."

Lucifer: wiping his face, glaring "Mammon…"

MC: grinning "Looks like it’s a snowball fight now!"

Leviathan: ducking "Wait, what?! I wasn’t ready!"

Snowballs fly in all directions as the brothers start pelting each other.

Satan: laughing "That’s for saying my snowman was boring!" throws a snowball at Mammon.

Mammon: "Oh yeah? Take this!" throws a snowball at Levi, but it hits Beel instead.

Beelzebub: grinning "You shouldn’t have done that, Mammon." lobs a giant snowball at Mammon.

Asmodeus: "Not my face! I did my hair and make up fabulously today! Don't you even dare ruin it!!!"

Belphegor: from behind a fort "Perfect for a target!" nails Asmo with a snowball.

MC: giggling "Lucifer, you’re not joining?"

Lucifer: grabs a snowball "If I must. Brace yourself, Mammon."

Mammon screams as Lucifer expertly pelts him with snowballs.

MC: "This is the best snow day ever!"

Everyone: laughing and dodging snowballs.

3. Wrapping Presents

The brothers and MC are in the dining hall with rolls of wrapping paper, ribbons, and tape scattered everywhere.

MC: "Okay, let’s divide the presents and start wrapping!"

Mammon: "How do ya even do this? This paper won’t stick!"

Leviathan: watching a tutorial on his D.D.D. "Mammon, you’re supposed to fold the edges first."

Mammon: "Yeah, well, why don’t ya fold your face, ya useless piece of junk?!"

Satan: wrapping perfectly "It’s not rocket science. Just follow the instructions."

Asmodeus: "Look at mine! I added a bow and some glitter. It’s fabulous, right, MC?"

MC: "Very festive, Asmo."

Beelzebub: holding an unwrapped box "Is it okay if I eat the cookies I was supposed to wrap?"

Belphegor: "You weren’t supposed to eat those. They’re for Simeon."

Beelzebub: "Oh…" sheepish grin "I’ll make more."

Lucifer: "How is it that every simple task turns into a disaster with you all?"

MC: "Relax, Lucifer. It’s Christmas. The mess is part of the fun."

Lucifer: smirking "If you say so."

4. Opening Presents

Christmas morning in MC’s room. The brothers are piled onto the bed, presents in hand, with wrapping paper already scattered everywhere.

MC: "Alright, here’s the plan! I’ll open your gifts while you open mine at the same time. Ready?"

Mammon: "Ya better love mine, MC! It cost a fortune—well, kinda…"

MC: opening Mammon’s gift "A gold bracelet? This is so beautiful!"

Mammon: blushing "Yeah, well, shiny stuff suits ya." opens MC’s gift "Wait, ya got me a new leather jacket? This is amazin’! Look, everyone, it’s got ‘The Great Mammon’ stitched on the back!"

Leviathan: "Move over, Mammon. It’s my turn now!"

MC: opening Levi’s gift "A Ruri-chan plushie! Levi, this is adorable."

Leviathan: opening MC’s gift "A limited-edition Ruri-chan figurine? This is peak gift-giving, MC! I can’t believe you found this!"

MC: laughing "I know how much Ruri-chan means to you."

Satan: handing over his gift "Here, MC. Unlike Mammon’s, mine didn’t involve a shady deal."

Mammon: "Oi!"

MC: opening Satan’s gift "A first-edition book of Devildom poetry? Satan, this is incredible. Thank you!"

Satan: opening MC’s gift "A leather-bound journal with enchanted ink? This is perfect. I’ll have to hide it from Mammon."

Mammon: "I ain’t gonna steal it—probably."

Asmodeus: dramatically placing his gift in MC’s hands "Now, darling MC, prepare to have your life changed!"

MC: opening Asmo’s gift "Skincare products? My skin’s going to look amazing thanks to you!"

Asmodeus: opening MC’s gift "A custom-made mirror? And it says ‘Most Gorgeous Demon’ on the back! You really get me, MC."

Beelzebub: grinning "Here’s mine, MC. I didn’t eat this one, I promise."

MC: opening Beel’s gift "A box of gourmet chocolates? Thanks, Beel. Oh, wait… there’s one missing!"

Beelzebub: avoiding eye contact "Uh… quality control?" opens MC’s gift "A custom apron that says ‘King of Snacks’? I love it! I’ll wear it to lunch today."

Belphegor: yawning, handing over his gift "Here. Don’t expect much. I was too tired to wrap it properly."

MC: opening Belphie’s gift "A fluffy blanket? It’s so soft! Thanks, Belphie."

Belphegor: opening MC’s gift "A pillow with my name on it? Perfect. I’ll take a nap to test it right now."

Lucifer: holding out a neatly wrapped package "Here, MC. Something worthy of you."

MC: opening Lucifer’s gift "A silver locket? This is gorgeous… and it has a protection spell?"

Lucifer: "Your safety is my priority." opens MC’s gift "A set of antique quills and ink? This is… exquisite, MC. You’ve outdone yourself."

Mammon: "Alright, but who got the best present, huh? It’s obviously me!"

Leviathan: "Uh, no. Mine literally has collector’s value!"

Asmodeus: "But mine makes MC even more radiant. Clearly, I win."

Beelzebub: munching on a chocolate "If we’re judging by snacks, I win."

Satan: "This isn’t a competition, you imbeciles."

Belphegor: smirking "It is now."

MC: laughing "Guys, stop! You all win. I love everything."

Lucifer: smirking "At least no one tried to re-gift something from last year."

Mammon: sweating "Yeah, uh… who would even do somethin’ like that?"

Belphegor: "You literally tried to wrap a pair of your old sunglasses, Mammon."

Mammon: "Shaddup, Belphie!"

MC: "Merry Christmas, everyone. You’re all ridiculous, but I wouldn’t trade this for anything."

Everyone: "Merry Christmas, MC!"

[yutamayo]

Its sad bc a while back I gave myself a shitty stick&poke tattoo of the Geass symbol on my right index finger and one time someone saw it and asked if it was my astrology sign and I wanted to kill myself

[butnotbubblegum]

using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, read at your own risk.

[yardsards]

i think the issue with having an extremely inconsistent sleep schedule is not that your overall daily schedule will be out of wack (i am quite fine with changing schedules) but rather that all hours of the day are Schrodinger's Bedtime. like, going to bed just feels like An Option at all times and this leads to a lot of laying in bed almost dozing but not really sleeping

[medicinemane]

Anyway, hope you're all doing well

I just... I haven't slept and also I've got like... 2-4 days of tumblr to catch up on... mostly to make sure I don't lose anything I want to keep requeuing

In many ways I'm probably doing better than I have been in a long time... maybe ever, but... I've got zero focus, I can barely watch youtube videos, I certainly can't play games... I can't get myself to clean... I don't know man

It's like... it's like my mind's empty except for some thick clear goopy sludge... it's like being over at a strange house sat alone in a big room waiting for people to come back... not wanting to touch anything so you just sit there staring and feeling out of sorts, except it's just constant in my own house in my own room... just saw Bart flop down in front of my door and realized I'm so out of it I forgot I had cats

It's like I'm living every moment in the moment, but not in a peaceful way, in a I'm untethered from reality and trying to figure out plans or how to deal with getting everything sorted out is just kinda painful kinda way

Then my mood... well... I kinda have no mood. I'm fucking numb if I'm honest. I have flavor opinions like "I'm worthless and should kill myself", but I actually don't even feel depressed right now, I feel nothing

I don't see much point to my future even if everything goes great, and I would like to kill myself, but I have zero interest in even considering it right now even though I have everything I need around if I just stand up and take a single step

So... much as it probably sounds like I'm just pure in the trash right now, I'm actually in many ways probably doing better than I ever have before... I'm just also real messed up right now at the same time

I don't feel hopeful, I never feel hopeful, but I do feel like I can maybe guide shit into a good position, it's just once again I figure that even if I do everything I want to with being able to help other people out and stuff, I'll still just kinda end up alone in a crowd

You know... funny thing is I'm thinking "the fuck is even the point I wanted to make?", and I realize... my point was actually that I'm doing pretty good and not to worry... not sure how well I'm selling it, but it's true

I hesitate to assign anything to myself, my stance on me and anything I can't conclusively say tends to be no comment... but if I were looking at someone else describing what I'm feeling in my position, I might be inclined to say burnout... months of having to be on and clean and manage everything and... all that... well it's one explanation, who knows if it's correct

Anyway though, I'm good, don't worry, know I do appreciate you all and wish I had more brain power to say more to more people... it's just maybe kinda sad that this is my version of doing good... the fuck is wrong with me if I wake up everyday feeling like I've been beaten with clubs... and for me this is kinda peak... what's that say about my baseline?

Doesn't matter, only thing to do is keep moving forward

Guess insomnia paired with not really being able to think, like words just kinda pop out with no planning... guess it makes me ramble real bad, this was supposed to be like one or two paragraphs being positive

It's a Beautiful World

[chuluoyi]

LOVER'S QUARREL

- fushiguro megumi x reader

“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.

genre/warnings: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)

note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.

And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.

But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.

You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.

You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.

So how dare he spout this now?

“I can't do this anymore.”

"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"

"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."

This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.

You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"

"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."

Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.

Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.

"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"

Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"

"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"

In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.

And yet...

"...I'm sorry."

Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.

And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."

As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.

Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."

You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.

Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.

Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.

"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.

"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."

"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"

"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."

"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."

. . .

"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.

Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”

Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”

“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”

He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.

Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…

How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?

Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.

With Hakari.

“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.

An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.

Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.

“Megumi?”

Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?

“Megumi!”

“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”

He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."

But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.

"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"

"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.

From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.

...huh?

Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?

What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.

Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—

Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.

How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.

But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.

“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?

They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.

What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?

You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!

You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...

"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.

You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."

This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?

Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.

"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.

Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."

You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.

Stay close, he said... So he is worried...

And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.

You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"

"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"You two seem close."

Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?

Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"

In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.

You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?

"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.

Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.

But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"

Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.

For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.

Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.

And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"

"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"

He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.

You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"

"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.

"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.

"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"

Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—

At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.

He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—

Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.

You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.

Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.

And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.

"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"

You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.

It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.

"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."

Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.

"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.

"Don't leave me."

It was like a distant, hazy memory.

Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.

The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.

You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.

Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.

Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.

Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...

You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."

When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.

"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."

You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.

“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.

He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.

"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.

However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."

...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?

"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."

"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"

"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"

“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”

Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.

"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"

You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.

You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"

"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.

He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."

And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."

Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."

And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.

“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”

A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.

But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."

And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.

"Maybe I am, yeah."

"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."

"Yeah..."

But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.

On one sunny day...

"Hey, are you alone?"

Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.

"No. Can I help you?"

The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"

The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—

Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.

"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."

Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.

"Megumi!"

Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—

He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.

"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"

[mintmatcha]

tiktok reader universe

contains mentions of sexual assault. cisfem reader.

.

There's still times when Bakugo can tell your mind wanders during sex. The focus drains from your eyes, your grip goes limp, and your smile slips just a bit. You always come back to him if he says something, but... sometimes he lets it happen, lets you drift away. Maybe the distance is needed.

Even after all this time, you still never sleep over after sex. Tonight, you're a bit more impatient than usual, fixing your hair and wiping your brow right after he pulls away.

"I was offered a job today," you say casually.

"Yeah?" Bakugo loops an arm around the empty pillow that could be yours, if only you'd lean back into it. "With who?"

Instead, he's left to study the curve of your spine as you throw your legs over the side of the bed. He loves the story your body tells, with its scars and marks. Even the acne pocks are a reminder you were once just a teenager, just like he was. His own scars have puckered with age, still the same raging pink they were when they first healed.

"Someone with way too much money-" you say. -"who likes what I've done for your image and thinks I can fix theirs."

"And can you?"

You shoot him a grin from over your shoulder. "Is that even a question?"

Truthfully, Bakugo thinks you could do anything if you wanted to. You could lean over and rip his heart from his chest with just your fucking teeth-- and you'd make it look easy. He'd maybe even thank you. He'd definitely let it happen again.

Bakugo gives up on luring you back. "Well, when do you start?"

Your head tilts.

"I don't," you say."I didn't take the job."

Bakugo sits up straighter.

"I didn't want to leave you."

The statement sits warm in his chest, then quickly cools.

"Well, maybe you should have."

That makes you turn. You cock your head the other way, expression neutral, but still gracing him with a closed lip grin. The stare lasts for a long while before you crawl back under the covers and return to his side. Your lips find the side of his neck and your hands grip back to him, hot, heavy, breathless in that way you think he likes. A hum builds in your throat, a rolling, performative sound.

"Pull your cock out," you demand, right into the shell of his ear. "If this is the last time, I want another round."

"What?"

He doesn't have time to react before you're gripping his half hard cock, jerking it up gently. It's still wet with you and buzzing with sensitivity, so much so that he can't help but enjoy it, enjoy you-

"If you're about to break up with me, I want to at least cum one more time."

He loses the remnants of his erection.

"That's not what I fucking meant." Bakugo tries to meet your eye, but you just keep kissing at him, gripping at him. "Just-- stop stroking my cock for a second and be fucking serious."

You freeze, but keep your hand on him.

"I don't wanna work together," Bakugo reaches for your hand. The free one. "I just want to date."

You don't respond.

"I want to take you places and have you meet my parents and-"

God. this is so unlike him. When did he lose his teeth? Did you pull them straight from his skull and hang them from your neck like jewels?

"I want you to sleep over." He means it. "Like a real fucking couple."

The ceiling fan hums with an uneven hitch, catching in the same spot each time. It's an easy fix, but he's been ignoring it for so long that it's almost blended into the tapestry of his home. Click-click-click-click-click: now it's deafening, overwhelming the silence you're choosing to sit in. Just as he's about to open his mouth, you look away from his body and meet his eye. There's no sharp edge to your eyes.

"'tsuki."

You say it like a mother about to comfort a child, with a rounded curve to your tone that he's never heard before. You're trying to dull the blow, but it does nothing. It's a fucking knife to the gut.

"I'm serious. I'm really serious." He points with his whole arm towards the bathroom. "I've had a fucking toothbrush ready for you for weeks now. It's right there, in the fucking package."

You withdraw, smile long gone. The air between you two, trapped under the covers, goes cold.

"The girlfriend thing." You are unrecognizable without your Mona Lisa grin and he's obsessed with it. He wants to consume these rare moments, chew on them until he's full of you and only you, despite how it makes his stomach turn. "It was never real. You know that."

You cover your bare tits with one arm, but leave your pussy exposed. It feels like a reflex more than an actual concern.

"I'm not meant to be a girlfriend. You don't want me as a girlfriend."

Bakugo's quick to close the distance between you, but he pauses when you full body flinch. Your quirk activates for a moment - you glitter out of existence and then immediately back in- like it's unwittingly done. It's another incredibly un-you moment, but one that he doesn't want to drink in.

"I do." He keeps his voice as delicate as he can. "I do. I fucking do."

"I don't know how to do the things you need. I don't know how to be a girlfriend," you say. The corners of your smile return and he can see the wall coming back up. The arch of your back, the way your hand suddenly cups your tit: you turn yourself into someone else, someone's who's happy to be here, in an instant. "I can make myself girlfriend shaped. I can open my mouth and let you fuck it. I can pose for a picture. I can make your friends jealous."

Oh, and that distant look comes back to your face. The dilation of your eye is just... wrong, even as you smile.

"But I'm just something that's girlfriend shaped," you say. "I'm an illusion, a creature, a tool, a hole-"

"Don't ever say that shit again."

It rips out of him too roughly. "A hole? That's-- why would you say that?"

It all seems to hit you slowly, as if you're processing your own words. Like it never occured to you that you were saying something foul.

"Because-" you try to explain yourself.

"You're just a girl," Bakugo doesn't let you finish the thought. He can't. Not when you're above him like that, so guarded and yet so vulnerable, neither predator nor prey. "I hate to break your fucking illusion or whatever, but you aren't this fucking lumbering beast or huntress or, or, or, I dunno, whatever the commission has tricked you into believing."

He tries to meet your eye, but you're ducking away from it.

"You're just a girl." He lets his hands fall back to his lap. The pinky that doesn't work twitches, kicking with it's old muscle memory. The scar tissue itches under it's own tautness. "Underneath it all. You're just a girl."

The mattress creaks under your weight as you shift back. Now, your eyes are incredibly focused, almost pinpricks. You watch him with an unreadable expression, one slowly inching more towards horror with every moment.

"You think I can't see you, but I can." Bakugo stays where he is. "And I think you want to be seen."

Everything moves slowly. You blink a couple times, with this meek nod, swallowing thickly as you listen. Then, you get off of the bed and head towards the door. All of your clothes are still scattered on the bedroom floor, your panties at the foot of the bed.

"Wait." Bakugo scrambles to get to his feet. "Don't- fucking wait."

He says your name, once, twice, three times, and gets no response. Panic and regret swirl in his skull, so violent he almost goes lightheaded. By the time he reaches the hall, you're gone, and he thinks you've activated your quirk to escape him. It's the nightmare he's always had around you, the one where you disappear into the night the second he gets too close.

And then the bathroom light flicks on. With a careful trepidation, Bakugo inches down towards the door, afraid the break the illusion. Maybe, if he moves too fast, you'll really scatter off into the night, a deer under his headlights.

But when he slides into the frame, you're just standing there, holding a familiar little tube.

"This it?" You hold the package in your hand. "My toothbrush?"

"Yeah."

With your thumbs, you crack into the packaging and carefully peel the toothbrush out. You run the head under the faucet, then turn it off.

"Toothpaste?"

Bakugo pulls out the top drawer. With a sullen nod, you take the toothpaste and unscrew the top. Bakugo watches you, both of you completely naked, both of you completely silent. It surprises him how unsexual it feels to be here, postcoital, still sweaty, watching you brush your teeth. After the moment settles, he steps over and grabs his own brush.

You're just a girl, he thinks as he brushes his teeth next to you. He likes that you're just a girl next to him.

The both of you finish up, then you silently pad back to the room. Bakugo follows, a healthy distance, but close enough the he watches you shrug on his sweatshirt before dipping under the covers. Your head rests on your pillow.

Bakugo finds his space on the other side of the bed and you lay there, in the dim overhead lighting.

"It's hard for me," you say.

"Sleeping?"

"Yeah."

Bakugo turns on to his side and almost reaches out. Almost. Instead, he goes back and turns off the light. When he returns, you're nothing but a dark lump beside him.

"That's okay," he says, "You can sleep however the hell you want."

Your silhouette stays still.

"Sometimes I wake up crying," you say. "Or kicking, or just remembering something I shouldn't."

"Remembering what?"

The click of the fan overtakes everything again as you lay there, pulling in even breaths. A moment passes, then another and another. You're silent for too long, long enough that he thinks you've fallen asleep. Just as he's about to give up, you sigh out a winding breath.

"He was a hero," you whisper. "I felt special when he paid attention to me."

A chill he can't place creeps up his spine. He wants to ask what that means, why you're telling him this, but nothing comes out when he opens his mouth. He has to swallow, then cleae his throat.

"Did-?" His voice crackles. "Did someone hurt you?"

Again, you're silent.

"Who?" This time, when you don't respond, he presses. "Fucking who?"

"Someone who retired a long, long time ago."

"Give me a name and I'll fucking-"

"Katsuki."

"Someone raped you."

He had to say it out loud and dispel the mystery behind it. It's selfish, brash, but he needed it- just as he needs this hand around you, holding, cradling-

"That's what happens when you're just a girl." You clutch at his forearm with a want that isn't present in your voice. "People hurt you."

The bite of your nails surprises him.

"It's safer to be something else."

It's his turn to be quiet.

[luveline]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

You try to break up with your boyfriend. Aaron just wants to know why. (And what he can do to fix it.) [4k]

c: fem, stripper!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff epilogue, suggestive themes mdni. requested here 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I don’t want to see you anymore. 

The text doesn’t compute at first. He reads it twice. Reads the sender’s name, his heart stopped clean in his chest. 

He puts down his pen.

The idea that the text wasn’t meant for him crosses his mind, but that might further break his heart. He knows you have clients, but you don’t contact them outside of the club. 

His second thought is that he’d been a client unknowingly, but he made it clear to you those few months ago that he liked you as you, not as a service provider, and not as something to be bought. You thought he was trying to acquire you as a private escort. He explained it as what it was truthfully, if vulnerably.

He’s being broken up with, he surmises. Over text. By a woman he adores, who he’d thought was happy. Aaron opens his phone to call you, clicking your contact, bringing it to his ear. You don’t answer. He calls again and he’s clearly declined three rings in. 

He puts his phone down and has a few minutes of unbreathable heartbreak. Just a few minutes, his hand to his stomach, trying to think of things as reasonably as he can. 

Aaron doesn’t care that you’re a stripper. He might’ve at first. Denied his attraction to you, because of course he had feelings for you when you were standing against the side of the club in your dancing lingerie, who wouldn’t fall in love with you? Every fool lucky enough to see you undressed must assume the same thing. He thought it wouldn’t work, and that you’d never be interested in a man like him. 

Interviews for information lended themselves to rare moments of conversation. He liked how you talked, how your eyes moved to his, the way you watched his mouth. Your unusual friendship with Spencer drew you closer, and activated a rare seed of jealousy within him that helped him place you in his life. He had real, tangible feelings for you. 

And now it’s over. 

He scrunches his eyes closed and gets up from his desk. Puts his coat on, but leaves his things where they are on his desk. 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks as he descends the steps down from his office into the bullpen. 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” 

“What happened?” 

Aaron turns to Morgan, hiding his panic as well as he’s able to. “I have a small emergency. It’s fine. Can you make sure things are okay here?” 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks again. 

Aaron keeps on going. He tries your number again on the way down. Three times, a fourth by the time he’s at the parking garage. 

The fifth time, you answer. 

He almost breaks the phone, its plastic body creaking in his hand. “Honey?” he asks. 

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Aaron. Is it hard to understand?” 

He’s taken aback. Some part of him had held onto the hope that it was a mistake. “Yes,” he says slowly, struggling to pull his keys out as his car comes into view, “it is.” 

“I don’t want to be with you.” 

“Have I upset you?” 

“Would that make it easier?” 

“No. I don’t think anything would make it any easier. Honey, this feels so sudden. Can’t we talk about it?” 

“I don’t want to see you.” 

“Please.” He can’t imagine never seeing you again. Just a few days ago he was sitting at the dinner table with you laughing opposite, your socked toes brushing his ankle. “Please, give me the chance to fix this.” 

“Aaron, it’s not really fixable. Please don’t call me again.”

“Y/N,” he says, firmer now. Anger leaks into his tone —what’s going on? “Let me come over. We need to talk about this.” 

“No–”

“It’s not fair to me for you to do it over the phone.” 

“…Okay. Fine. I’m at home, but I have work at six.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

He hangs up. Your terse allowance is all he needs to get in the car and drive, checking his watch. There’s plenty of time between now and six. He can figure out what’s wrong and hopefully change your mind.

He thinks about it more seriously as he’s parking outside of your place. Perhaps he doesn’t want to change your mind. You aren’t acting like you, none of your kindness can be found in such a swift dismissal, but he thinks of your foot under the table, your sock rubbing along his ankle without comment. 

He takes the stairs to your apartment. It’s not the nicest place to stay, but it’s far from a slum, either. He doesn’t worry about you when you’re home beyond the usual everyday fears: Is she eating? Sleeping? Having a good day? 

Now he’s thinking, What did I do? 

He gets to your apartment and pauses at the threshold. After a moment's deliberation, he knocks. 

“Come in, Aaron.” 

He pulls down the handle and lets himself in. You’ve mail piled on the sideboard and your shoes tucked under it, a coat rack further in bragging scarves and coats and jackets of all different colours. He’s always liked the interior of your apartment. It doesn’t feel as cold as his own, parts of your personality peeking in through everything, from the flowered tiles in the bathroom to the glass lampshade in the bedroom. 

You’re sitting in the kitchen with the light off. “Hey,” he says, voice already laden with relief he doesn’t mean to share. 

“Hi.” 

“Can I sit down?” 

You gesture for him to do as he likes. 

Aaron sits down at your table. It’s a small square just big enough to share dinner, plain wood edged in a darker slate grey outline. Sometimes when you’re feeling especially pretty, you’ll lean heavily on an elbow and grin at him, enticing him in for a kiss.

“What’s this all about?” he asks quietly. 

“I just think we’re… at the end of our relationship.” 

You don’t sound truthful. He knew there was something strange in your voice over the phone. 

“What’s making you feel that way?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Again, avoiding and evasive. 

He meets your gaze unflinchingly. “I care about you. I love you,” he says. “I know I can’t be who you pictured for yourself, and if you really can’t see a future for us, then… I’ll have seen it alone. I just wish I could understand this sudden change. Did I do something wrong?” 

“You’re not who I picture for myself,” you agree. 

“No?” he asks. 

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong, but I can’t see us together. We’re not the right fit.” 

You twist a ring around your middle finger. He thinks he’s starting to understand. “Do you think we’re not the right fit?” 

“Please don’t use your psychoanalysis on me.” 

“It’s not psychoanalysis, sweetheart, it’s– I know you.” He grimaces. “I’d like to think I do. And I’m allowing myself the audacity to believe you were happy with me just a few days ago. What happened between then and now to change your mind?” 

You stare at your two-toned table. Your mouth opens to talk, little but air making it out. Your shoulders begin tightening like you’ve been keyed between them, twisting and twisting. 

“What do you want me to say?” you ask. 

Dramatic, he’d hope you could say you don’t love him, or don’t care about him enough to let him convince you the rest of the way. “Is this really what you want?” he asks instead. 

Your staring turns to squinting. With a start, he watches a small tear drip from the corner of your eye to your nostril, to your cupid's bow. 

“No,” you say carefully, “it’s not what I want. I don’t like you being against me.” 

“Then what’s making you feel this way?” 

You cover your eyes with one hand. “I wanted to do this over the phone,” you say in a squeeze. 

He reaches for you but doesn’t touch. “I couldn’t let you.” 

“I just want you to be happy,” you say, so high he can barely understand you. “I’ll never be like you, Aaron. You’re so smart, and you’ve done so much. You’re a hero, and you must look so stupid with me. What do you think people say when they realise what I am?” 

“It doesn’t matter to me what they say. I know you, and they don’t.”

“What about what I think?” 

“What do you think?” 

You wipe your face roughly, eyes lit with an anger he’s unprepared for. “I told you, don’t psychoanalyse me. I don’t want to have to explain it, I just want to say what I have to say. I don’t want to be with you because you won’t be happy, and neither will I.” 

Aaron isn’t too prideful to recognise when he needs to fight for what he wants. He reaches over the table and takes your arm into his hand, picking it up, feeling down The length of it until he’s curled his hand over your smaller fingers. “We are happy,” he says softly, giving your hand a small shake. “I understand where you’re coming from. When we first met, I couldn’t have predicted that I’d be here with you now. I do wonder what people think when they ask me what you do and I tell them you’re a performer. I know we agreed to it, but there are moments where I feel like I’m being cruel to you. But just because there’s a stigma surrounding what you do, it doesn’t mean that you’re any lesser than me. You’re not less intelligent, or less accomplished. We chose different paths and I’m glad we did. If you weren’t a dancer I never would’ve met you.” 

“Do you know how it feels for me to come home to you sometimes?” you ask weakly. 

“I’d hope it feels as it does for me. Every time I see you, I’m relieved.” 

“Aaron, I get this rush of safety, like you’re– I’m finally safe. I can take care of myself, you know that, but now I have you it’s that I don’t even want to. And that’s stupid. I know that that’s stupid.” 

“What I’m thinking,” he says, soft, not as worried about being without you now as he is of the horrible way you’re feeling, “is that you’ve thought about all of this a lot. I’m glad you’ve taken time to reflect on us and your life, but I wish you’d thought more about what we both want.” 

“I want you to be happy,” you argue, as you had a few moments ago. 

“And I’m never happier than when we’re together.” He shrugs. “Love isn’t about work. Your job shapes you as mine shapes me, but you have to know that who you are is what’s important.” 

“I don’t know who I am…” 

“I know exactly who you are,” he says, rubbing a loving thumb over your knuckles. 

“I’m… I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you, on the phone. I knew if I talked to you like this I’d be too much of a coward to really see it through.” 

“I see. You’ve planned my heartbreak weeks in advance.” 

You shake your head sadly. “Aaron, we’re not good for each other. You make me this awful, weak version of me, and I’m no good.” 

“We have been nothing but happy since we met.” Aaron pulls your hand up and kisses the side of your wrist. He isn’t ashamed of you. He doesn’t make you weak, you aren’t. “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels like we’re from different worlds, but it’s not that melodramatic. You’re my partner. I love you. It’s hard not to think about what others think of us, but I know exactly what I think of you, and I know what you think of me, too.” 

You share a look. 

“I’ve never heard you talk so much,” you say, your frown fading. “I’m sorry.” 

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“When I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassing,” you mumble. 

“You aren’t embarrassing. Please, put the thought out of your head.” 

“Thought out of my head,” you repeat, still mumbling as you flex your fingers, pushing them between his and intertwining your hands. You bring them linked to your forehead and take a heavy breath. 

“Do you really want to break up?” he asks softly. 

Your breath warms his arm. “No.” 

“You can have the things you want, you know? I imagine that there are people who laugh when I tell them about you, but you have to know that their opinions would never matter to me.” He pulls his hand from your head to encourage you to meet his eyes. “No one else matters but me and you. We don’t have to factor in other people. We can just be together.” 

“I’m not worth all the fuss,” you say under your breath. 

“What, this fuss? Honey, a few weeks ago you cried in my lap because I got you that cake from the bakery. And you know what? I didn’t want you to cry, but getting to rub your back?” He chances a smile. “That made my night.” 

“You like making girls cry.” 

“Yes,” he says, trying not to grin like a fool as you stand from your chair and put yourself in front of him. He is no saint. He pulls you onto his thighs and wraps an arm around the small of your back, your legs either side of him. “That’s my goal in life, sweetheart.” His voice falls to a whisper as you hang your head against him, tip of your nose to a rough cheek. “Making you cry…” 

Your arms creep to his neck. Resting on him, rather than hugging. He doesn’t mind, he’ll do the hard work. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay.” He turns your face with his to press his lips to your cheek. “It’s alright, honey, bumps in the road happen with everyone.” 

“All my fault.” 

“Maybe next time, if you feel so strongly about something, you can just extend me that little bit of faith and… know that I’m here for you. Even if it did mean we wouldn’t be together, it doesn’t have to be that you’re alone, making such a big decision. Valiant,” he adds, enjoying the warmth of you seeping into his shirt, his face, his neck where your wrist is laid against it. “You’re not a coward. But I wish you wouldn’t be this brave about breaking my heart.” 

“Stop making me feel guilty.” 

His laugh is a breath against your cheek. “No, it’s fine, isn’t it? Use me and abuse me.” 

“Shut up. Stop, what is this weird guilt tripping you’re doing?” You laugh at his absurdity. “I’d never abuse you.” 

“I know. Just step on me a bit.” 

“Stop, stop,” you mumble, your voice turning slowly from self-pitying to honey, all that love for him he knew you still had like threads of gold shooting through it, “I don’t wanna step on you, I never would…” 

“Just rough me up a little.” 

“Never.” You press your face to his neck. “Thank you for not letting me do it.” 

“I won’t let you go so easily.” His hand trails up your back, feeling the softness of you beneath your t-shirt. Fat, muscle, all of it familiar, and treasured by his touching. 

He squeezes you rather tightly, then, but you don’t complain, you just sigh. 

“It’s not that you’re not who I picture for myself, like I said before,” you confess, leaning all your weight against him, barely held up by your legs either side of him. “You weren’t, but I didn’t realise that I could have you. I didn’t really know men like you existed. I should’ve known I was looking in the wrong age bracket.” 

“That’s not very nice. In my line of work they call that a feedback sandwich, honey. Something cruel between nice things to distract me.” 

“Sorry. Just had to get it in.” 

He considers your teasing a return to normalcy, guiding your head away from his with a hand to the back of your neck. “If this was a ploy to make me leave work early, consider it successful.” 

“I know your attention usually falls to other places, Mr. Hotchner–” You burst into giggles as he pinches the back of your neck, but it’s only to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your parted lips as your laughter fades away.

You scrunch his shirt in your hand and kiss him nicely. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“Forgiven.” Even if he did almost go into cardiac arrest at his desk. “I like begging to stay. It builds character.” 

“How long will you be like this?” you ask, shaking your head slowly, your smile poorly hidden. 

You’d needed a reminder, is all. Aaron isn’t solely business and sternness, he’s an idiot, your idiot, who likes to tease you, and doesn’t care who knows that. When he’s working he’s one person, and when he’s with you, he’s another. Both have their qualities and faults, but only one version is the one he needs to be with you. 

“At my age it’s perfectly normal to have a young and beautiful wife,” he says. “You’ve seen some of the other Section’s worker’s wives.” 

“I’m not that young,” you say. 

“So you admit it?” 

You reward him with a tired sigh, cuddling into his collar. 

—

…I'll never be your beast of burden. So let's go home and draw the curtains…

Aaron’s humming from the bedroom. He knows every classic rock song to exist, every word to every Beatles song. When the chorus comes, he sings under his breath, but you can hear him regardless. “Am I rough enough, am I rich enough? I’m not too blind…” he fades off. 

The music hums under your feet. Record player open on the floor, his Some Girls vinyl on the plate. 

You press a hand down your side. 

To inspire less worry on your part, you and Aaron are trying to be more open about the other sides of your lives. His work feels alien to you, and you worry that yours is dirty to him, despite reassurance that a job is a job. You know that already, but you can’t make yourself believe that he’s as happy as he could be if you were, say, a checkout girl. 

You’d make a cute checkout girl, he’d said. 

This is cute, too. Babydoll lingerie with feather edgings, starkly white against your skin. You fluff out the ends and neaten the crotch of your panties. Nothing is on show that shouldn’t be, but it’s still lingerie. It’s meant to excite. 

“Honey,” he says, dulcet tone carrying to the bathroom, “are you stuck again?” 

You laugh. “I bet you hope so.” 

“That’s accusatory in nature.” 

“I’m coming.” You give it a last glance in the mirror and head into the bedroom. 

Aaron’s sat against your headboard, flowery pillowcases behind his head and back. He discards the little figurine he’d been playing with out of boredom and looks you up and down, corners of his lips curling. 

“Home only,” he says. 

“I knew you’d say that.” 

“You look stunning.” His eyes seem darker. All pupil. 

“I have to wear some of these at the club, Aaron, that’s why I bought them.” 

Something in your voice makes him smile. “You said I could veto the ones that are too beautiful.” 

“I said too slutty.” 

“Honey, they’re all revealing in their ways. And I don’t have a problem with it…” He takes a breath. “Much. But some of these are meant for…” 

“The man who loves me?”

“Exactly.” 

He’d said something similar about the light blue set with darker flowers, the black set that showed the curves of your chest, and especially about the pink one-piece with white ribbons. That one gave him pause. 

“Spin?” he asks. 

One day it might bother Aaron that you dance, but for now he’s gently approving. Just wants you to be happy. So you do a little spin without any attempt to be sexy and beam when he whistles. 

“Beautiful. Really, honey, that’s the nicest so far.” 

“I have a confession.” 

“Yeah?” 

“This one was for you.” 

He’d know if you were lying. “For me?” he says, in that tone bordering stern, as much of his professionalism as you’re used to hearing these days. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t,” he says, seductions gone as he tips his head back into a pillow patterned with lavender and peony. “Unless you’re done trying those on, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“This is the last one.” 

“In that case.” He covers his face with a cushion. 

You look down. Your stomach is a little bloated from lunch, and you have a shaving rash on your left knee, but Aaron won’t mind. He never does. Without worry, you tread to the side of the bed and climb onto it, one leg over his lap. The last time you’d been sitting in his lap, you’d been teary-eyed and regretful. Fuck, what was I thinking? you ask yourself, slipping a hand under his rising shirt to feel his abdomen. It’ll never not be weird, the FBI man and his stripper girlfriend, but it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but him and you. 

You ease the pillow down his face. 

“Are you blushing, Aaron?” you ask. 

“Not purposefully.” 

“You look a little… hot.” 

“That makes two of us.” 

It starts slowly. The heat of you atop him, the pillows moved out of the way. You didn’t expect him to stay unbothered as you paraded your new spoils, but his willpower is remarkable, and he only breaks when you let yourself settle on his lap. His big hand cups your face. 

“That’s funny.” You lift up enough to be in kissing range, but don’t kiss. You just wait for him to react, holding your weight off of his chest. 

He finds the small of your back and drags. Your gasp isn’t your own, a breathy, excited thing as he brings your face to his for a kiss. Your lips almost immediately part in anticipation of his eagerness, of his hand on the back of your neck, and the unflinching heat of his mouth as he turns his head. Your noses brush. He wades in deeper, his own breath already failing him as the bridges of your nose press hard. 

They aren’t rough kisses, but there’s something desperate there. He holds you to him until he can’t, ushering you onto your back, his weight bearing down sudden and steady. 

“I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” he utters, stroking your cheek, edging back in to kiss you before you can reply. 

You wrap an arm behind his back and hike your leg, soft thigh naked and waiting for his touch. You didn’t nearly lose me, you think. To be lost, you’d have to be something worth losing, and you’re not sure you are, but Aaron? 

“I don’t think you could,” you mumble, forcing him to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the line of your throat. He nips at your neck, a shudder racing through you. 

“I have no intent of letting it come that close again, sweetheart.” 

His hand dances up your side to the soft hill of your chest. 

You hold the hair from his face and let him kiss you. He’s here to stay, no matter how odd a pairing you might make. You love him. That’s all he cares about. 

“Want me to do that thing you like?” you offer softly, mildly playful. 

He laughs into your neck. “No,” he says, “I think tonight is about you, hm? You’re all dressed up. I think that deserves a reward.” 

You knew he’d like the white babydoll. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[dhampir-dyke]

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

UPDATE What's up, it's the proposal guy. You said you wanted to know how this turned out, so I figured I'd tell you. First some context though, because I'm mean and I wanna keep you in suspense longer.

1- I don't wanna doxx us so I'm not telling you where we live, but suffice to say, neither of us are American, and gay marriage has been legal here for less than five years. For both of us, this is the first relationship we've had where marriage was even an OPTION, and I think that's where we've been getting some of that whole 'this has to be a REAL proposal with EVERYTHING' idea.

2- I gotta figure out how to explain this properly. So, I'm pretty used to being the GUY guy in relationships? I was always the one who did the nice gestures, not the one they got done for. Before I met my dream guy, I didn't really notice or care that it was such a thing, I just assumed that's how shit worked. Also, I promised I wouldn't talk a lot about his stuff here, but his last boyfriend before me SUCKED. Anyway point here is, it turns out we both REALLY like feeling swept off our feet sometimes, and a big part of finding each other has been getting to feel special for once? That's a stupid sappy way of putting it the point here is I think all that's what morphed into "I need to be the one getting proposed to, also it has to be completely perfect", and then our Petty & Extra genes got involved.

So I'm sitting in bed thinking about all that up there, and watching all the comments coming in basically being like "Dude, you are BLOWING this" on repeat, and telling me to compromise, and I look up and see him flossing in the bathroom and making all these doofy faces at the mirror, and it's like a switch just flips in my brain, and I'm like "Oh, I'd rather he gets to have his perfect proposal than we both have an okay one". I'm gonna do it.

Morning rolls around, and while I'm 'out for my jog like normal' I hit up a pawn shop for a temp ring (the ring pop thing is cute but NOT HIM). I found one I was at least confident wouldn't get ruined the first time he got his hands greasy (he fixes old machines as a hobby it's hot as hell), got back home, and hid the box in the toe of my nasty ass workout shoes in the bedroom closet, since I figured he'd check there last.

He was still asleep, because he stays up late no matter what and then is SHOCKED he's tired the next day, so I called and booked a table at our usual anniversary spot. (Side note about the 'he picks bad restaurants' thing. This isn't an 'I like Greek, you like Chinese' situation, dude's just BAD at finding places. He either assumes pricey is tasty and I get to eat some overrated gourmet bullshit, or he'll try and find something hip and underground and risk giving us food poisoning again, and he REFUSES to give up and pick somewhere we've been before when it's his turn to plan date night. I'm obsessed with him <3.) Date was set, I'd propose on the 21st.

Some of you might have noticed this, but fun fact! It's currently the 16th.

Last night I'm doing dishes and he's been sent to our room for mug collection duty, and he's taking FOREVER, so I go check just in case he found the ring, because the man's a gift tracking BLOODHOUND. Turns out he hasn't, he's found my Angry Box.

I assume other people have an Angry Box? Basically, we had this huge messy fight right when we first moved in together, and I never wanna let it get that bad again, so I have this shoebox where I keep a bunch of our stuff I can look at if we're fighting and hopefully cool off. There's one of those photo booth roll things, letters we wrote when he moved back with his parents for COVID, the wine cork from our first date, shit like that. Anyway, he's just sitting on the floor staring at it, and I explain about the Angry Box, and then he! Proposes!!! Kind of.

He definitely didn't have anything prepared, because by 'propose' I mean 'ugly cried & rambled at me for several minutes before I figured out it WAS a proposal', but once I got on the same page it was amazing. I said yes, and he had to admit he didn't have a ring for me because he was CONVINCED he'd win and I'd do it, so I grabbed mine because, yeah, he was right. He was like "this is the ugliest ring I've ever seen" and I was like yeah well the plan is to replace it later and he went "No. You can pry this off my cold dead fingers. After I'm buried with it." So I guess it's not a temporary ring anymore.

I'm just gonna go ahead and skip to this morning. I pointed out we still have the reservation, and he said I should propose there anyway because "We can get a free dessert. They have those creme brulee shot glasses you like. And for love, or something" and I said ok deal, but that means you gotta get me a ring to keep it fair, and his eyes LIT UP. When I swung by his work for lunch he was still on the phone with a jeweler and he had a whole page of notes on three other ones. Pray for me.

OH PS: I was RIGHT that he'd been the one behind the cat biting me, but it wasn't about the proposal stuff, it's because I paid my baby sister three dollars to shout 'fuck you' every single time he enters a room she's in for (if you ask me, he should be madder at my sister for charging so little), and he did it by giving her a bunch of treats for biting his hands too, so now neither of us can pet our baby girl without oven mitts on. HOLY SHIT I love this man.

Oh my goddddddd I love everything about this <333 I awwww'd out loud on a voice call, like, six times while reading. You two are friggin perfect for each other and so obviously smitten with each other and I wish y'all all the happiness in the world

PS Are y'all planning to have a big wedding? If so oh boy I can't WAIT to get that one in the inbox

Original post

[inkdrinkerworld]

“No more coffee, dove.” Remus takes the cup away from you and takes the mocha pot off the stove.

“But Remmy,” you whine and your boyfriend just levels you a look.

He pouts at you, all mocking and teasing which makes you want to stomp your foot. “No ‘But Remmy,’ you’ve had three. You’re cut off, my love.”

You can’t even be mad at him when he calls you nice things and gives you a kiss for your troubles.

Still you try. Then keys jingle in the door and your ability to get your way seems sparked up again, even if by a soft flame.

“Hi my darlings, I’m home.”

You give Remus a look that lets him know what you’re about to do and he resigns himself with watching you bewitch James like that’s your actual job.

“Hi Jamie! How was the gym?” Remus leans on the kitchen counter and watches you fawn over James to set you plan in motion.

“Good lovie. How was work? Were you trouble for our Remmy?”

You shake your head and Remus scoffs. James looks at him over your head and Remus only gives him a wink.

“I was super good! Was it arm day today?” Your hands slide up to his shoulders and then down to his wrists.

James chuckles, dimples popping out at he flexes. Your hands squeeze at his arms as he flexes and when James leans down for a kiss you really put the moves on him.

Your hands bury themselves in his still wet curls, tugging a little as you let James kiss into your mouth.

When you pull away, “Can you make me a fancy coffee, please baby?”

Remus rolls his eyes, “I just told you no, dove. You’ve had three.”

James looks down at you, a little smile on his face. “That true, angel?”

You scowl, “I really feel like I need a caffeine kick to get through the rest of my work. It won’t take long to wear off, either James. Swears.”

James doesn’t believe that part. The sun’s setting now and you really shouldn’t be having another cup of coffee.

He and Remus have spent many a night up with you while you all wait for the remnants of the caffeine leave you - not that they mind for themselves, they just don’t like you unable to sleep when it’s three in the morning and you’ve got to wake up at six.

You pout at him, holding onto his forearms as you stare at him with your best puppy dog eyes.

“Okay, let me go take a shower and I’ll fix you up one.”

You turn to Remus and stick your tongue out at him when James swats at your bum quickly making you hiss. “Oi!”

Remus only shakes his head as James passes you by to kiss Remus. “Jamie she really shouldn’t-“ James gives Remus another kiss, placating him completely.

For all his cheekiness, James had a subtle way of putting Remus at complete ease with just a kiss. “Be back in ten my loves.”

“You’re a brat.” Remus says playfully as James bounds the stairs and you give him a smug shrug as you sit at the table and start typing away at your work.

James comes back down and heads to the kitchen and starts making your drink. You hear all the wizzing and wowing of his fancy coffee routine and when he brings you a mug you look pleased as punch.

You take a sip and frown, looking up at James with betrayal all over your face.

“Decaf, Jamie?” It’s Remus’ turn to be smug, you dislike it on him entirely.

“Yes lovie. It’s too late for full caffeine and you’ll have been bouncing off the walls if I’d made one for you and wouldn’t have slept tonight.”

You just stare at him, James walks over to the table and kisses you. He can’t stand your pouty face. “I’ll make you a real fancy one in the morning before I head to practice, yeah?”

He pecks your lips when you don’t answer, and again when you hardly kiss back. James keeps at it until you giggle which is only three more kisses. He savors the kisses and your giggle.

“Yeah, Jamie.”

Remus comes to the table to meet you two, “What about my kisses?”

You pretend to think about it before kissing Remus lips, pecks following a sloppy trail all over his cheeks making him blush.

“Love you, Remmy.”

He smiles, turning your face so he can kiss your lips again. “I love you too, dove.”

James pouts, both you and Remus kiss his cheek before he can even ask.

“We love you Jamie. Loads and loads.”

He smiles, a megawatt spotlight really, and kisses you both back.

“What are you thinking of for tea? A chippy?” James asks, hand in Remus’ hair and on your cheek as you look down to your laptop and save your work.

There’s no point in trying to do any of it now that you’re all home. “Yeah, can I have cod this time? Didn’t fancy the haddock last time.”

Remus nods, “Anything you want, lovely girl.” James is already on the phone placing everyone’s orders, not forgetting everyone’s add-ons.

[starkeysprincess]

rafe being the handyman for your apartment complex -> based on this post

warnings: icky + sleazy behavior, no real smut, 18+ mdni a/n: bit longer than I meant & i low key hate this but oh well

The keys on his belt loop jingled as he made his way to apartment 4B, chewing on tobacco and muttering something along the lines that today was supposed to be his day off. His fist made contact with the door, briefly knocking but there was no answer. 

His patience starts to wear thin, his boot thumping against the floor as he knocks harder. Just as he turns around, ready to walk away, he hears the sweet sound of your voice, “Hello?”. 

Rafe turns around, his eyes raking your body, you looked just about the sweetest thing he’s laid his eyes on. Your nipples poked through the oversized shirt you had on and your hair was in a messy bun. “Sorry I didn’t answer sooner, I just woke up” you sighed, trying to rub the sleep away from your eyes.

He smirked at your sweet and innocent demeanor, “S’not a problem, doll face. I was sent to fix an issue you’re having with the sink.”.

You didn’t say a word, your face burning from the nickname, “You gonna let me in?”.

“Oh, right, sorry” you ushered an apology, stepping aside to let him into the apartment. You close the door behind him, “Kitchen or bathroom?” he questions. You turn to face him and it wasn’t until now that he realized how small you were compared to him. His cock stiffened in his jeans at the sight of your big, doe eyes looked up at him, “Huh?”.

“The sink” his voice was gruff and you felt a shiver run up your spine as he stared down at you, “Oh, um, the bathroom”. He looked at you expectantly and you realized you had to show him where your bathroom was, muttering another apology under your breath. 

As you led him to the bathroom, his eyes were glued to the hem of your oversized shirt that stopped just a little below the cheeks of your ass. He could tell you were wearing nothing but a pair of panties under the oversized shirt. 

He steps into the bathroom, groaning to himself lightly at the intoxicating yet sweet smell of your body wash floods his nostrils. His toolbox clanks against the cool tile floor as he sets it down, “What’s the issue you’re havin’?” he murmured. 

You frown, “It keeps leaking, I had to remove everything from the cabinet. I can’t even use the sink without water getting everywhere”. Rafe’s eyes were glued to your soft lips, watching them move as you rambled and all he could think about is stuffing your mouth full with his cock, “You’re ramblin’, doll face”.

You squeak out an apology, your face burning from embarrassment, “Think you could show me the problem?” he gestured to the sink and you nodded, moving past him to open the cabinet under the sink. 

Rafe knew what the problem was based on what you described and from the maintenance ticket he received but that wasn’t stopping him from wanting to see you on your knees, bent over. You can feel his gaze on you but don’t think much of it as you bend over. 

“Where is the leaking comin’ from?” he grumbled as he stood behind you. “Here” you pointed, turning your head to look back at him to see he was squinting, pointing his flashlight towards the pipe, “Where?”. 

When you leaned forward more to show him where the leaking came from, your shirt rode up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your baby pink panties, “Do you see it?”, your saccharine-like voice rang through his ears, still facing away from him.

He licked his lips, eyes locked on the delicate panties around your hips, “Mhm, I see what I was lookin’ for, doll face”.

[smileysuh]

after the seminar

🌙 staring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. In truth, Wonwoo has been tired. You haven’t fucked since the first night of the seminar, and although that was only two days ago, you’re definitely feeling the loss. On top of that, being wined and dined and looked after always makes you hornier than usual, and Wonwoo has been extra ‘husband’ today. He’s just so perfect. Well-mannered, kind, educated- God, you want him so bad.

tw/cw. sugar daddy Wonwoo, gentleman in the streets/softdom in the sheets, reader doesn't want to make choices, daddy/control kink, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral, blow job, deep throating, dirty talk, praise, masturbation, unprotected sex, holding hands while fucking, implied breeding/fullness kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) honey. (his) daddy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.3k

🍭 aus. sugar daddy au, established relationship, fiance!Wonwoo, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I know not everyone is into this level of sugar daddy control, but I think there's something to be said about the trust that reader has for Wonwoo. Sometimes I just wanna shut up and let a man do all the work, and today, that man is Wonwoo

Wonwoo’s had few loves in his life. During university, he’d had a love for law, a need to do what was right. In his thirties, he’d found a new soulmate in legislative procedures related to the sustainability and efficiency of whole cities. Finance had been another long-winded lover, and now, on the cusp of forty, Wonwoo’s found the one thing in the world he loves most, you.

Holding your hand while he drives through the city, Wonwoo can’t help but keep some of his attention on you. 

Dressed in a tight-fitting red dress he’d bought you for your six-month anniversary in Paris, with your hair and makeup done, you look as stunning as ever. There’s a fat rock on your wedding finger, an engagement ring signifying his loyalty to you, and Wonwoo can’t help himself but play with it a little anytime your hands are linked.

As he makes a turn onto a busy street, the sun practically blinds him, and Wonwoo immediately lets go of you to adjust his visor. You make no movement, so he pulls yours down too, enjoying the way you flash him a small smile and whisper a ‘thank you.’

“You look lost in thought,” he muses, having noted your gaze fixed on the sidewalk trees passing by outside your window. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just thinking about seminar topics,” you admit. 

Over the past three days, you’ve accompanied him to multiple talks focused on accessibility, affordability, and green solutions within cities like yours. Tonight marks the last evening of the event, and the two of you are headed to a meet-up with some of Wonwoo’s closest lawyer friends. 

Wonwoo loves how diligently you’ve thrown yourself into his work-focused world. Not only do you attend the seminars with him, but you truly make an effort to learn, and that’s never more obvious than when conversing with his colleagues.

Wonwoo’s best friend, Kim Mingyu, has entertained a string of sugar baby relationships, and despite inviting three or four of those women to events like the one you’ve just accompanied Wonwoo to, none of Mingyu’s girls ever took to it the way you do.

You’re one of a kind, and Wonwoo knows how lucky he is to have you.

“I’m sure Seungcheol will have a few things to say about the housing crisis talk,” Wonwoo notes. Choi Seungheol, who had started in law and made the leap to real estate. He now owns half of the new developments being built downtown, and Wonwoo knows this will spur a contentious discussion later.

“He can’t argue with the stats,” you sigh, turning to look at Wonwoo, who threads his fingers with yours again. 

“He can try,” Wonwoo smiles softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. 

You return the smile, turning your attention out the window again. 

You’re not voicing anything, but Wonwoo can read you like a book. It used to be his job to pay attention to body language, and while he tries to stay humble, people have called him something of a mind reader.

“It’s been an exhausting three days,” he notes. “We don’t have to be out for long tonight, I’m sure we both need our rest.”

“Hansol flies to New York tomorrow morning,” you remind him. “I want you to have as much time with him as you need before he’s gone.”

Your relationship is always something like this, the two of you caring for each other so deeply that you constantly make small concessions. As always, though, the ball is in Wonwoo’s court. He appreciates the way you can feel to him like an intellectual equal while still being submissive in other senses, although he never abuses this power over you.

He’ll keep an eye on you tonight, and when he notices you getting tired, or your energy depleting, he’ll excuse the both of you from drinks and take you back to his place. Then, he’ll take care of you in the ways only he knows how. 

You love Wonwoo. You love him for the big things, his character, his good heart- but you love him for the little things too, the way nothing slips past his line of focus. He’s always a hundred percent on and present with you, holding open every door, guiding you by the small of your back, and pulling out your chair first when you join his friends on the top floor restaurant in the most expensive hotel in the city.

“You look amazing,” Mingyu compliments you, flashing you a toothy grin before standing to greet Wonwoo with a hug. “You definitely know how to pick them,” he praises his friend.

“And look at that ring,” Seungcheol has zeroed in on the diamond on your finger, and he reaches across the table to take your hand and get a better look at it. Wonwoo’s eldest friend has always had an eye for luxury, and he studies the oval rock and silver-colored band. “I’d ask if this is sterling,” he muses, “but if I were a betting man, which I am, I’d say it’s white gold.” 

Seungcheol lifts his eyes to meet yours, waiting for an affirmative, which you give with a nod. “You know your metals, Mister Choi.”

“How many times do I have to tell you,” he lifts your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingers, “It’s Seungcheol.” 

“Stop flirting with Wonwoo’s girl,” Hansol tuts, pushing at Seungcheol’s shoulder.

The elder man makes a face, brushing off his expensive suit. “Not flirting,” he clarifies. “Although,” his gaze shifts to you again, “if you have any hot friends-”

“Aish,” Wonwoo has rejoined the conversation after greeting Mingyu, and he takes the seat next to you, his arm casually coming around the back of your chair to pull you closer. “What have I told you about asking her for favors?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Sungcheol sighs, sitting back and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “She’s one in a million, aren’t ya, little miss future Jeon to be?”

“Try one in a billion,” Wonwoo corrects, hand finding your thigh now that he’s pulled you close enough. “Have you three ordered drinks yet?”

“We were waiting on you,” Mingyu says, handing Wonwoo a cocktail menu, which he settles between you both so you can also read it. “Their margaritas are pretty good.”

You quickly find a drink you’d like to try, and you wordlessly reach out a manicured nail to tap on it. Wonwoo follows your motion, giving a curt nod, then he leans in to press his lips to your cheek. He waves down the waiter a moment later, and orders you your drink, sparing you the socialization.

This is yet another one of those little things Wonwoo does for you that you find incredibly sexy, and you tuck closer to him, placing your hand over his own on your thigh. 

“We should talk about the elephant in the room,” Mingyu sighs, drawing all eyes. You have no idea what he’s about to say, and then he hits the four of you with, “Cheol, you have to admit your new high rises aren’t sustainable or affordable.”

“They’re called luxury suits for a reason,” Seungcheol scoffs. “I’m not in the business of affordable housing.” 

Wonwoo grins next to you, looking down and squeezing your hand gently. It’s funny how amusing he finds this whole thing. 

“Don’t smirk like that, Woo,” Seungcheol tuts. “As if you didn’t do a walk-through of a penthouse suite in my new highrise last week.” 

This is news to you, and you turn to look at your boyfriend. You’re generally not one to question him, and luckily you don’t have to, because Kim Mingyu is just as nosey as you’d sometimes like to be. “You checked out a penthouse? I thought you loved your apartment?”

“I’ve had it for years,” Wonwoo says, and you can tell he’s choosing his words carefully. “However, I can admit that the amenities at Cheol’s new builds are quite impressive.”

“Amenities,” Seungcheol scoffs. “As if that’s what you were actually interested in.”

The two powerful men share a look, and it’s a battle of wills that makes your heart thump loudly in your chest. 

What was Wonwoo interested in?

He’s never talked to you about moving, and you’ve been living with him for nearly a year. Besides, Mingyu’s right, Wonwoo adores his apartment. He’s had it forever and it’s decorated exactly the way he likes it. Your bedroom is a lovely corner location with views of the whole city, and his home office is a sanctuary you’ve loved to desecrate. 

“We’ll talk about this more another time,” Wonwoo says finally, looking up as your waiter appears with a tray of drinks. 

Your cocktail is set in front of Wonwoo, and he gently pushes it toward you before reaching down to give your thigh a squeeze under the table. He picks up his Old Fashioned with his free hand, and Seungcheol raises his own glass in a toast. “To friends and new engagements!”

Seungcheol nods to you before taking a sip of his scotch, and it fills your body with heat to know his friends truly respect and like you. They’re happy to have you joining as a permanent member of their social sphere. 

You place your hand on top of Wonwoo’s as you bring your cocktail to your lips. 

The discussion moves to details about sustainability, and the men at the table trade opinions on the seminars. Mingyu is fast in his manner of speaking, always intent to prove his point. Cheol is loud and boisterous, scoffing at opinions that don’t align with his own. Hansol is often quiet, but he makes good notes ever so often, and they make the whole table sit and think. And your Wonwoo is as calm and judicial as always, listening to his friends with a contemplative expression even while his thumb draws small circles on your thigh. 

You give your own two cents a few times, and your musings are always the most well-received. None of the men at the table are about to pick a fight with you, and they’re attentive whenever you open your mouth, nodding and making one or two comments before getting heated with each other again. 

The waiter comes and Seungcheol orders a few appetizers while Wonwoo opens the menu for you. When Wonwoo begins to list three of his own items, you tap your finger on the one you’d like most and he voices that as well.

God, how you love the fact that you only have to lift one little finger with Wonwoo while he does the rest. You really aren’t in a super talkative mood, especially when it comes to mundane tasks like ordering food and drinks. You save your voice to join in on the intellectual conversation taking place, and you prefer things this way.

Seungcheol and Wonwoo begin to argue over rezoning laws, and Hansol turns toward you, leaning closer. “Congratulations on your engagement,” he smiles. 

“Thank you,” you grin back. 

“Have you guys talked about wedding plans yet?”

Out of all the people in the world, you didn’t think Chwe Hansol would be one of the first to ask you about wedding details. 

“We’re thinking destination,” you admit.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Hansol laughs. “And an expensive honeymoon too I bet.” 

“Of course,” you grin, playing with the stem of your cocktail glass. “Although, if I’m being honest…” you lean closer to Hansol, lowering your voice while Wonwoo and Seungcheol continue to argue, “as much as I like the lifestyle I have with Wonwoo, you know I’m happy just to be with him.”

“But the expensive trips are a bonus I bet,” Hansol grins. 

“I mean… would you say no to a trip to the Maldives?” 

Wonwoo’s friend shakes his head, still smiling. “Never.”

“When are you going to find someone?” you ask. Out of all of Wonwoo’s close friends, Hansol is the most level-headed. He’s stable, and kind, and if you weren’t so into Wonwoo, you’d even admit Hansol is quite handsome in his own way. 

“Someday,” Hansol sighs. “Maybe you’ll have cute bridesmaids at your wedding.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you,” you assure him. 

Hansol laughs. “I’d appreciate that.”

Food begins to arrive at the table, and you sit up straight again, tucking close to Wonwoo. He’s done this thing, ever since your first date, where he helps plate food for you, and for some reason, it’s always been a huge turn-on.

You like getting baby girl treatment, and you watch Wonwoo with a grin while he cuts through some carpaccio and sets up a piece for you. He makes sure to get a little bit of everything on your plate before putting anything on his own, and his friends are already digging in by the time he’s gotten the both of you settled.

“Do you want anything else?” he asks, always the type to be certain he’s pleased you.

“This looks perfect,” you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, lingering by his ear so he’s the only one who can hear you when you say, “Thank you, Daddy.”

Wonwoo reaches down and squeezes your thigh, the only sign you have that your words have done something to him. He’s not the type to be big on PDA, and it’s the little things like a constant touch, or acts of service, that remind you he loves you as much as you love him.

You wait for Wonwoo to lift a carpaccio bread spread to his lips before you reach for your own, mirroring his motions so you can experience the food together. 

You hadn’t been a carpaccio fan before meeting Wonwoo, but he’s expanded your pallet in the time you’ve known him, and you’re extremely thankful for this opportunity - as well as others - that he’s provided for you.

“Look at you two loved-up foodies,” Seungcheol sighs from across the table, watching you with eyes trained to assess. 

Wonwoo only grins, reaching for his drink to take a sip. You follow that motion too, smirking over the rim of your glass before downcasting your eyes. 

There’s no need to respond to Seuncheol’s comment because it’s an apt description of the pair of you.

“Stop being jealous,” Mingyu grins, reaching out to push at Seungcheol’s shoulder. 

“Never going to happen,” Seungcheol retorts. 

You know he’s in the market for a sugar baby, and Wonwoo’s told you how often Seungcheol brings you up when you’re not around. Apparently, his eldest friend is adamant that you’re one of the most perfect sugar babies he’s ever seen, and you wonder if maybe you should try to hook him up with one of your friends at the wedding. Give Cheol the Hansol treatment. However, in contrast to Hansol’s laid-back expectations, you’d have to give your Cheol-intended friend a cheat sheet booklet on how to please a rich man.

“Just watch,” Seungcheol continues, “these two are going to sneak off early and go to the bathroom or something. They’re sitting much too close together, and we’ve all noticed Wonwoo’s hand under the table.”

To show his innocence, Wonwoo lifts the hand in question. “We’re not doing anything,” he assures his friends calmly. “Although… unfortunately, we will have to leave early after appetizers.”

This is news to you, and you look at Wonwoo for further clarification, which he gives when pressed by Seungcheol.

“It’s been a long seminar,” Wonwoo explains, letting out a sigh of exhaustion. “I’d say Honey needs her beauty rest, but I think we all know I’m not so nice when I’ve been sleep deprived.”

You love it when he calls you Honey, in fact, he uses that name for you more than your legal one. 

Seungcheol lets out a groan, but he doesn’t push further, because Wonwoo’s excuse is true. He’s never been rude to you when tired, but he definitely has a ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude when he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed. 

“We’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning,” Mingyu agrees. “Maybe I should get another drink and call it a night too.”

“Come on Gyu,” Seungcheol scoffs. “I’ll let these two ditch, but this is Hansol’s last night in the city, I thought we could go to a roof on one of my new waterfront builds and hit some golf balls at the sea.”

“Right, because that’s very environmentally friendly,” Wonwoo tuts.

“Jesus, you are tired, aren’t you?” Seungcheol laughs. 

It’s a rhetorical question, and Wonwoo simply lifts another appetizer to his mouth, chewing with a tight-lipped grin. 

In truth, Wonwoo has been tired. You haven’t fucked since the first night of the seminar, and although that was only two days ago, you’re definitely feeling the loss. On top of that, being wined and dined and looked after always makes you hornier than usual, and Wonwoo has been extra ‘husband’ today.

He’s just so perfect. Well-mannered, kind, educated- 

God, you want him so bad.

You take a sip of your cocktail again before resting your hand on Wonwoo’s thigh, and he stops what he’s doing to look down at your fingers toying with his pants. Then his gaze rises to you, and he cocks his head slightly, obviously a little stunned by how forward you’re being tonight.

It’s such a small motion, but it speaks volumes, and when paired with a small flutter of your lashes, Wonwoo reads you like he reads the books in his impressive office library. 

Part of you wants to toy with him, wants to tease your touch up to his crotch just to see if you can get him hard at dinner with his friends, but you know that would lead to something akin to consequence. 

As easy as it is for Wonwoo to read you, he’s not such an open book and his reactions vary drastically. You don’t want to push your luck today, not after you’ve been such a good girl for him for three seminars straight.

You remove your hand before playing with fire gets you burned, and the two of you continue to finish your appetizers. Each bite is one step closer to leaving with Wonwoo, but you try to take your time, try not to be too glutenous to make way for lust. 

Wonwoo finished eating and he lifts his drink with his left hand, his right palm finding your thigh again. His touch is soothing, gentle, but it still stirs a fire within you.

You shift your knee, letting it rest against his, and you sip your cocktail trying to pay attention to what Mingyu’s saying about the stock market. 

Wonwoo is generally quite the stocks man. He pays attention to Mingyu, but you can tell his focus is still partially on you, and you reach down to play with his fingers, enjoying how pretty his hands are. 

You need him so badly. 

That’s when you realize Wonwoo has almost finished his drink, and you quickly grab at yours too, wanting to reach the bottom of your own cup. 

You’ve not been drinking since the seminar started, and the booze in your cocktail definitely heightens your senses. An electric tingle consumes your form, and it’s getting harder to ignore the panties sticking to your core. 

The conversation reaches a lull,  and Wonwoo lets out a sigh, squeezing your legs. “Well, it’s been fun,” he says, “but Honey and I should get going.”

“One more drink,” Seungcheol practically begs, already lifting a hand to call over a waiter.

“Not tonight,” Wonwoo says, soft but firm. 

He stands up first, grabbing your hand to help you out of your own seat. “Good luck with your flight tomorrow, Hansol,” he nods to the man on your right. 

“Good luck with wedding planning,” Hansol retorts, rising from his chair to pull you and Wonwoo into a hug. 

Hansol’s not usually a touchy guy, and the hug means something. It’s a true acceptance that you’re permanently a part of Wonwoo’s life, and it means the world to you. 

“Now I want a hug,” Mingyu also stands, holding out his arms for you and Wonwoo.

With a laugh, your fiance’s hand finds the small of your back and he guides you into Mingyu’s warm embrace, trapping you between their large bodies. 

Now you’re really turned on. 

Seungcheol doesn’t stand, he simply watches, lips all pouty. “Let me know about that penthouse,” he muses. “I’ve got some foreign buyers already wanting a walk through and I won’t hold it forever.”

“I’ll get back to you,” Wonwoo promises, giving one last nod to Seungcheol before he begins to guide you out of the restaurant.

As you make it to the front desk, Wonwoo stops and addresses the staff member there. “I’m going to take care of my table’s bill tonight.”

“I’ll put it on your tab, Mr. Jeon.” She nods, typing something into the ipad infront of her.

“That was kind of you,” you muse as Wonwoo escorts you into the elevator that will lead to the underground where his expensive Mercedes is parked.

“We’re leaving early, it’s the least I could do.”

“You know… I hope we didn’t leave on my account,” you say, thinking about the conversation you’d had in the car earlier.

Wonwoo leans down close to you, grinning. “I can safely say we left due to my own personal needs, although they’re not sleep-related.” 

“You really like this dress, don’t you, Daddy?” you smile, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck while his hands settle on your hips.

“I like what’s under it,” he retorts, which is a cheeky response by Wonwoo’s standards.

“Been missing my body, haven’t you?”

“More than you realize.”

Wonwoo had kept his composure on the drive home. He’d even kept his hands mostly to himself on the way up to your apartment, but your stoic lover is on you the moment the door to your home is closed behind you both.

He presses you up against the wall, grabbing your waist and tugging you close while simultaneously blocking you up against the hard surface at your back. His lips are hot against your own, his tongue invading your mouth and making you giggle as you grab the front of his shirt, already popping buttons open.

You release a moan when he reaches down and cups your core, pushing up your dress to access your lacey panties. “Where do you want it, honey?” he asks, biting at your lip.

“I don’t want to think tonight,” you admit, tired from days of brain power.

You love that Wonwoo likes to check in with you. He’s not the type to simply throw you over a kitchen counter and rail you when you might prefer the bed or even the shower- but at the same time, as soon as you give him full control, Wonwoo’s very good at taking charge.

“I’ll take care of you,” Wonwoo promises, pushing your panties to the side so he can slide two fingers against your heated core. You can feel how wet you are, and the contact against your clit has you whining, grabbing his face to bring his mouth to yours again while he pushes two digits knuckle deep into your aching core.

You’re sensitive from a few days without being touched, and it feels like heaven to have Wonwoo worshipping you like this again. You tangle your fingers in his hair as he draws his mouth down to your jaw then your throat, peppering your skin in kisses that have you shivering with pleasure.

“Daddy-” you whimper, your hips thrusting toward his hand as he works you open, palming your clit with delicious pressure. 

“I know, Honey, I know,” he soothes, and between gasped breaths and moans, you can hear your pussy squelching already. 

It’s getting harder and harder to stand on your shaky legs, your heels not meant for standing sex or heavy petting like this. But it’s also clear to you that Wonwoo has no intention of stopping his motions until you’ve cum on his fingers, so you do your best to grab his shoulders, steadying yourself while that wonderful feeling builds in the pit of your stomach. 

“I’ve missed this pussy,” Wonwoo tells you, voice low. It’s not often that he uses vulgarity, even in the bedroom, and his words betray how much he truly needs you. Your skin tingles with excitement, pussy throbbing, heart thundering in your chest-

It’s crazy how one sentence can nearly shortcircuit your brain when paired with Wonwoo using his hands like this- stroking the parts of you that he knows better than anyone else in the world.

Your fiance has taken his sweet time getting to know your body, and it shows in moments like these. 

“I’m so close-” you gasp, digging your nails into his shoulders. You should care about his expensive suit jacket, but you don’t- all that matters is the orgasm you’re desperately chasing, hips moving to ride Wonwoo’s hand while his unrelenting fingers get you closer and closer to the edge-

“Come on, honey,” Wonwoo grins, mouth returning to the spot on your neck that always makes you go feral, “cum for me.” 

One more rough thrust with his fingers has you moaning, tumbling past the edge as your orgasm overtakes you. 

If you’d nearly been falling over before this, you almost crumple to the floor with all the pleasure coursing through you now. Wonwoo’s free arm loops around your waist, and he presses you closer to the wall, keeping you propped up while his hand continues between your shaking thighs.

He releases a low groan, and you can feel his cock pressing through his pants by your hip. You feel delirious already, body pulsing, skin tingling. Wonwoo’s broad shoulders are your lifeline, and you grip them desperately, taking everything he has to give you like the good girl you are.

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, seeking out his lips, cupping his face to draw him closer. His tongue glides against your own, and you’re enough of a distraction that his fingers begin to slow inside of you.

Finally, he pulls his hand away from between your thighs, dragging his lips from yours so he can sink his digits into his mouth. You watch him lick them clean, listening to the groan of satisfaction that escapes him while you do your best to catch your breath.

“You’re always so good for me,” Wonwoo tells you, lifting his gaze to yours again. 

You swallow thickly, mind swimming, searching for a response. “You deserve it,” you assure him finally.

“And I know what you deserve tonight,” he retorts. 

In one quick motion, he lifts you up bridal style. One of your stilettos crashes to the floor from the sudden way your body has just been swung like a rag doll, but neither of you care as Wonwoo carries you through the apartment toward the bedroom.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you. Wonwoo always makes you feel like a princess, and he looks like a classic prince while doing it. His side profile is so regal- all sharp bones and pretty lips. God- how did you ever get this lucky?

When you get to your destination, Wonwoo is gentle when he sets you onto the mattress. He straightens and looks down at your form, letting out a deep breath.

“Can you take that pretty dress off for me, honey?” he asks, already shrugging off his suit jacket and setting it over a chair nearby. 

“Of course, daddy,” you grin, reaching down to grab at the hem of the silky outfit, dragging it up your thigh.

His eyes are glued to you even as he works on his cuff links, and you take your sweet time as he makes it to the buttons of his shirt. The dress has a corset style back, and you tug on the ribbon before slowly working it open.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, but you can see his breathing pick up as the fabric gets less tight on your chest, revealing more and more of your bralessness. 

When he makes it to his pants, you remove the dress, leaving you in nothing but your thong, which is soaked through. 

Your fiance swallows thickly. “Panties too, honey. I don’t think I have the patience to wait any longer tonight.”

His lack of patience is clear in the way his cock slaps up against his abdomen, released by the pants now pooled by his feet.

Wonwoo looks like a fucking God, especially while naked. He’s lean but muscled, and you’ve spent hours tracing each ridge and bone. His cock is an impressive length of around seven inches, it’s pale like the rest of him, but when he’s really turned on, it flushes in colour.

Right now, his cock is a pinkish red, and you can see the angry tip already leaking desperately. 

You stand up, sneaking a kiss to his lips while hooking your fingers in your panties. Pushing them down, you get onto your knees.

“Honey, you don’t have to-”

“Maybe I’m impatient too, have you ever thought of that, daddy?” you ask, grabbing the base of his length and leaning forward to kitten lick the tip.

Wonwoo releases a low groan, reaching down to thread his fingers through your hair.

“I’ve missed you,” you murmur, enjoying the way he reacts when you kiss his cock gently. “Missed the weight of you in my mouth.”

“Fuck-”

It’s not often that Wonwoo curses, and the word goes straight to your core.

“Can I touch myself while I suck you off, daddy?” 

“I’d be upset if you didn’t,” he admits. “I want you dripping when I finally pull you off my cock and fuck you the way you like it.”

You whimper, your whole body alight with energy as you take him into your mouth. You’re already practically drooling from his fingers earlier and the dirty talk now, which makes it easy to coat him in spit. 

You’ve never been able to take all of Wonwoo in your mouth, but you do your best, gripping the base and bobbing your head while you begin to toy with your clit.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Wonwoo groans, taking a deep breath as his hand guides you on his cock. “Always so good for me.”

The praise only makes you suck on him harder. You sink so far down onto him that his tip hits the back of your throat. You feel yourself constrict around him and Wonwoo lets out a loud moan, fingers flexing in your hair. 

“Careful, honey, I don’t want you to choke,” he tells you, but his voice has lost it’s usual commanding tone. He’ll let you do anything you want to him, even if it means gagging on cock- but he’ll do his best to be gentle with you verbally at least.

You get lost in the feeling of pleasuring him, closing your eyes and letting your mouth show him how much you’ve missed him… however, not in so many words. 

Actions speak volumes, especially in this case.

You continue working on your pussy too, eventually slipping two fingers into your wet core, which makes you moan around Wonwoo’s cock.

“Honey-” he groans.

You can tell that he’s on the verge of breaking, so you pull off his length, looking up at him while catching your breath. “Ready to fuck me now, daddy?”

“I’ve been ready all night,” he grins, reaching down to grab your hand and help you to your feet. 

He kisses you then, cupping your face and leaning forward, taking your breath away all over again. His palm flatens against the small of your back and he dips you backward- then you’re falling, a small squeal escaping you-

The fall is only an inch or two, and you hit the mattress, Wonwoo bearing down on your form almost immediately. You grab at his shoulders as his lips find yours, your legs wrapping around his lean hips to tug him closer.

His cock is still wet with your spit, and it rubs deliciously through your soaked folds, bumping your clit and making you moan into the kiss.

As impatient as Wonwoo seemed to be, he’s not quick to adjust himself against you- or at least, not quick enough for your liking, so you reach between your bodies and grab his cock, lining him up with your wet hole. 

Wonwoo grins against your lips, and in one motion, he sinks into your core.

You moan loudly, digging your nails into his strong shoulders and throwing your head back as he fills you perfectly, stretching out your walls.

Your fiance takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, finding your sweet spot.

He feels like heaven- you’re really not sure how long you’ll be able to last tonight, but that’s never mattered with Wonwoo. You have forever with this man, which means you can be as fast or slow as you’d like to be.

He begins to thrust in and out of your core, and it makes you cry out again, walls contracting around his cock. You can feel him so deeply, especially as he adjusts your legs, pushing your thighs closer to your chest.

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, not a care in the world for using a ‘correct’ title. Your fiance might enjoy the daddy kink, but he’s never been the type to punish you for slipping up and calling him something different.

It’s clear to both of you how far gone you are, and Wonwoo only grins against your throat, picking up his pace.

“How about you rub your clit for me, honey?” he asks. 

You’re not one to question him, and your hand slips between your bodies to seak out the sensitive nub. More sounds of pleasure escape you as you begin to rub yourself, and your moans only push Wonwoo to fuck you harder.

Each thrust has his cock hitting a spot deep inside of you, and it’s making you delirious. 

Wonwoo finds your free hand, threading your fingers and using you as leverage as he presses you against the mattress. His breath is hot on your throat, but soon he’s seaking out your lips again, and you eagerly kiss him as if your life depends on it.

There’s an orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, spurred on by your fingers on your clit and the cock filling you up with each rough thrust.

Wonwoo doesn’t need to check in on you, and you don’t need to tell him you’re close, you’re certain he can tell. He tightens his grip on your hand, a silent invitation to let go whenever you want.

Each drag of his cock against your inner walls draws you closer and closer to the edge, and when he breaks the kiss to lick your throat, it allows you to focus entirely on the pleasure between your legs.

“Fuck, daddy-” you whimper, back arching as you shift below him.

“I know, honey,” he groans. “Me too.”

“Yeah?” Your body jitters with near orgasmic bliss. “Can you cum with me?”

“Of course, just tell me when.”

“Please-” you moan, writhing against the sheets as he fucks you even harder. “Please, daddy- I want you to fill me up-”

Wonwoo groans, teeth dragging by the sensitive skin of your throat. 

“Please, please- fuck, I’m almost there-” you rub your clit harder, body tensing on the precipice of your orgasm-

“Shit,” Wonwoo tightens his grip on your hand to the point where it almost hurts- and even though he doesn’t say it, it’s clear to you that he’s reached his own high.

The thought that Wonwoo is so turned on he’s just cum before you - something that never happens - is enough to drag you over the edge, your core clamping down on his cock, eager to milk him for everything he’s worth while you cry out in ecstasy. 

He’s gasping against your throat, thrusts even deeper now- slow, steady little ruts as he coats your insides with him cum, filling you up perfectly. 

You get lost in the feeling of him, squeezing his hand back as a silent encouragement while your pussy continues to squeeze his cock, eager to get every last drop.

When he finally comes to a stop, he simply lays on top of you for a moment, the both of you breathing heavily.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yes, honey?”

“I’ve just remembered-” you pull your hand away from your clit, instead moving to stroke his hair, “What did Seungcheol mean about the penthouse you were looking at?”

Wonwoo lets out a small chuckle. “Do you really want me to spoil the surprise?”

“Yes, please.”

Your fiance pulls away from your throat, looking down at you. “I’ve been thinking we might need a bigger place… one that could accommodate a few extra rooms.”

“Extra rooms?” you cock a brow.

“For any kids we might have, you know, after we’re married.” 

Your entire body tingles with excitement. 

While the two of you have talked about children in a general manner before, nothing has ever been set in stone. But you suppose now that you’re engaged, it’s natural this sort of thing would be on Wonwoo’s mind.

“How do you feel about that?” Wonwoo asks.

“I feel like…” you swallow thickly, “I want you to fill me up again, and also that I should book a doctor's appointment to discuss going off birth control.”

“I can definitely help you with that first one,” Wonwoo grins, pressing chaste kisses all across your face while you giggle and hold him tighter.

“We’re really doing this,” you whisper.

Wonwoo’s thumb brushes by the ring on your wedding finger. “Honey, I couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone else.”

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🔮 preview. You pull away just as his lips are about to meet yours. “You know how appreciative I am whenever daddy gets me a present,” you say, acting innocent. This only makes him laugh, and he grabs the back of your head, pulling you into a passionate kiss. You know buying things for you does the same thing to Wonwoo that it does to you. He loves seeing the excitement in your eyes, the way you light up at gifts. He truly lives to provide for you. 

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, mentions of breeding kink/wanting to get reader pregnant, sugar daddy Wonwoo, daddy kink, soft dom!Wonwoo, oral, pussy eating, fingering, breif edging, squirting, groping, sickly sweet loved up sex, crying during sex cuz reader is so in love, mentions of pain kink, hair pulling, teasing, dirty talk, fucking on a kitchen counter, Wonwoo talks about reader getting ‘plump’ with pregnancy, he adores the ‘soft bits’, etc.  I petnames. (hers) honey (his) daddy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 4k I teaser wc. 300

🌙 staring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

“Can I take this off yet?” you ask, wobbling in your heels as you grab at the silk blindfold blocking your vision.

“Be patient, honey,” Wonwoo breathes in your ear, his hands firm on your hips as he guides you to whatever surprise destination he has in store for you tonight. 

Christmas is a week away, and the last time he blindfolded you like this was for your birthday. He’d taken you to a Mercedes dealership to let you choose any car you wanted. You have no clue what he has in store for you now, and you’re practically shaking with excitement. 

You know he’s driven you somewhere, and you’ve been in an elevator, so it must not be another car- your list of gift possibilities is somewhat thin. You have a hunch, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself just in case you’re wrong about where your fiance is leading you. 

Wonwoo’s lips find your throat, and his hands stop you in your tracks. His breath is hot by your ear a moment later, and he lets out something like a contented sigh. “Okay. Let me help you take this off.” 

His deft fingers work at the loose knot behind your head; soon the blindfold slips away.

Your eyes adjust to the light, and you blink while taking in the space in front of you. You’re in a large open-concept kitchen, a living room sprawled in front of you with views of the whole city. The decor is lavish luxury, and you recognize the design concept as a Choi Seungcheol special when you notice a specific lighting fixture that Cheol puts in all his expensive builds. 

“Wonwoo-” you breathe, mind spinning.

The man behind you flattens his chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your frame while he rests his head on your shoulder. “Do you like it?”

“Is this…”

“It’s ours,” your fiance confirms. “I wanted to show it to you on Christmas day, but I couldn’t help myself.”

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svt taglist:

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@joonsneptune - @candidupped - @cheolussy

@yourfavoritefreakyhan - @asjkdk

Thanks to those who interacted with the teaser :)

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@hannieween - @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts - @horanghaezone

[queenie-the-court-jester]

you'll be back.

Yandere rockstar x reader

A/n: this was very rushed so I'll fix it later, but please enjoy! 🌺

Tw: dub con turns to non con, breeding kink, obsessive behavior, yandere ex boyfriend, very minor angst

🎸you hated him. Hated his guts, his handsome looks, the way he'd wrap his arm around your waist as if you were still dating. His spotless dark skin you were so envious of, that dumb charismatic smile. You hated it. Why did he do this to you? Always running back and begging you to let him stay for a while. And you'd let him. Why? You didn't know

🔥 Maxine knew. It's because you still loved him. He knew you did. Why else would you let him climb into your bed and hold you close? Why else would you let him kiss your lips? Why else would you let him undress you slowly with so much love

🎸he was a mess for you, no matter how many fans he had, they could never replace you. All the girls he slept with after your breakup? None of them compared. He loved you more than his love for the life he had. But if he did, why did he pick it over you?

🔥 highschool sweethearts, well, up until you both graduated and he started a band. They were small, but slowly grew in the following year. Having multiple companies reach out in hopes of striking a record deal. Soon, nightly Melodies came to be.

🎸you forgot his bandmates names, they weren't really important to you since they didn't bother trying to know their leaders lover. Good riddance you say. You never liked how that drummer kept staring at him.. not to mention his fans were psychopaths. Harassing you online and sometimes even in real life. He didn't even care after you'd complain about it

🔥you were eachother's first time, first everything. So ofcourse it hurt when you finally confronted him after he skipped your date night for the 10th time that month. He never had time for you anymore, brushing you off in favor of hanging out with his "friends"

"just calm down babe geez.. it's not that big of a deal.."

"not that big huh? Well then, if you care so little about actually being a good boyfriend, consider yourself single."

🎸you left him to stare at you in shock as you packed your bags, he tried stopping you. Begging you to stay, blocking the door, standing behind your car as you tried driving away. He promised he could change. But you knew otherwise. You were done

🔥months later, he stalks your socials and keeps sending you gifts. All until you start to crumble and let him in slowly. He knew you wouldn't last long. His reputation and band be damned. All he wanted was you.

🔞you could only stare at him, unsure as he kissed the valley between your breasts and trailed lower, hands rubbing up and down your sides. You could feel his dick press against your leg, your clothing scattered all over the bedroom floor

"there there pretty baby.. let me take care of you hm? Such a good girl.. want me to fuck this pretty pussy as a reward? Hm?"

🔞he slowly pushes the tip inside after teasing you relentlessly for what seemed like hours. Letting out Little groans as he slipped in inch by inch. Praising you for taking him so well, cutting himself off and letting out a lewd gasp after he felt you squeeze him

🔞 he starts off slow and steady, he doesn't last long as he's practically fucking you into the bed. Crying out tears of euphoria at the feeling of you sucking him in deeper, the tip bullying your cervix

"f-uuuckkk pretty ma', hah.. I don't think I can last long- a-ah!"

🔞he refuses to stop after cumming inside you once. Babbling something about knocking you up and filling you up with his children. Gathering some sense of clarity you tried begging him to stop, but he clamped a hand over your mouth. Pinning you down and angling your hips higher. Blue eyes staring down at you with manic glee

🔞drool drips down his chest as he pants and groans, he only stops until he's fully drained and each touch of his skin makes his hips spasm. Pulling you flush against him he practically purrs, nuzzling his face into your chest. You couldn't help but wince at the cold feeling of his lip piercings rub against your bare skin. Tiredly reaching a hand up to play with his dark curly hair

🔞you better hope the test comes back positive, because if it doesn't he'll just keep going every night until you're swollen with his child. This may dampen his image a bit but he couldn't care less. Staring fondly at your tummy and the ring on your finger. He was holding your hand as you both Walked into an important event, He couldn't wait to introduce you to everyone as his wife!

[qqueenofhades]

I just feel like even if we all vote and Biden wins, Trump won't accept the loss, and eventually they'll just put him in anyway. And then there won't be another real election. Even if Biden wins and somehow is actually confirmed (which again, I think is unlikely) we're going to have to do this for 30 more years because of the SC, and that isn't at all sustainable.

All this isn't to say I won't vote but I just think people are being way too optimistic about what happens if Biden wins. I don't think him winning will keep Trump out or the horrible fascist future at bay.

Look, I get the fear. I do, I do... but this is also one of the times when you have to ask if it's actually telling you something true, or if it's just preying on that generalized feeling of doom to make everything seem hopeless even if we win again. And that is... there is absolutely no actual mechanism for Trump to be installed as president if Biden wins the Electoral College (since as we have repeatedly seen, the popular vote is immaterial). SCOTUS is horrible and evil and are trying to interfere as much ahead of time for Trump as they can, but part of that is because they can't simply issue an order for Biden to be removed and Trump to become God King By Fiat. That is not how it works. If Biden wins in November, he will be president until his term ends, he steps down, Kamala takes over, or anything else.

Trump tried a coup with all the entire overwhelming might of the US government as the sitting president last time; fortunately, it failed. Reforms to the Electoral Count Act have been made to prevent another January 6. The Department of Defense and the military are still under (and would be on another January 6) Biden's command, not Trump's. That's not to say that Trump won't try some shit with his insane cult followers, but he is just a late 70s conman from Queens out on bail and under sentence for a criminal trial, who is already the biggest and most disgraced loser and asshole in American political history. He is so desperate to cheat his way back into power because in a real sense, this IS the last-chance saloon for him. He can't put off the legal proceedings, however long they take, for another four years. He's losing his marbles at a rapid rate. I'm just saying: we don't know what or when, but there will be (and already have been) real consequences for him. That is why he is scrabbling so hard.

"Even if we vote, nothing matters and Trump will win anyway" is another of those insidious lies that works to make you feel as if the battle is endless and pointless and none of its victories matter. Of course it will not all be magically fixed forever if Biden wins. We will still have to figure some godforsaken fucking way to expand SCOTUS or kick Alito and Thomas off it. But we will have bought ourselves, our democracy, our country, and the world time to do that, and put another nail in Trump's coffin. That matters. It matters a lot.

Fascism wants to present itself as overwhelming, irresistible, inevitable, and ready to happen no matter what you do, and that's what your brain wants you to buy in now. But that's not the case, Trump is not inevitable or some all-powerful monolith (in fact, another of the debate takeaways seemed to be that Biden looked bad but people still hate Trump too much for it to really shift anything). He is a loser, a fraud, a conman, a liar, and a crook, and he WANTS you to fear him like an almighty god. Don't give him or the MAGAGOP the satisfaction.

Frankly, having to endure another four months of this might kill us all, and I know that we are tired and scared (me too). But IT IS NOT INEVITABLE THAT WE ARE DOOMED. Not at all. Let's hang onto that and tell that anxiety doom voice to shove it.

Hugs.