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requiemforthepoets · 20 hours ago

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the proposal ⟢ FA14

⟢ part four of this time, i’ll love you much better

𖤓 series masterlist ⟢ playlist ⟢ part five ☽

PAIRINGS: fernando alonso x ex-wife!reader

SUMMARY: the twins thought that they have all the time in the world to devise a plan on how they would get you and fernando back together. that is until fernando had told the news to jullianna, prompting to put their plan in motion.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, named character (except for reader), parent trap inspired fic + plot, google translated spanish and french, single dad!nando and single mom!reader (for the time being), evil fiancé, twin switching, inaccuracies with information, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: part four of the series!! i have a lot of things going on, so that’s why it always takes a long time for me to update my series/post new parts to fics. as always, this series is open for taglist, so just comment or message me if you wanted to be tagged, and your comments/reblogs are highly appreciated, i hope you’ll enjoy this new part of the series! :)

The sunlight filtered through the curtains as Jullianna pulled her hair into a sleek ponytail, already dressed in a crisp white tennis outfit. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, adjusting the collar of the polo shirt she wore. Jullianna’s focus, however, was more on the bubbling frustration in her chest. It was not just about the day ahead or the tennis session with Fernando—it was about everything Sofia had dropped into her lap without any warning.

As if on cue, Jullianna’s phone buzzed on the bedside table. She picked it up and saw Sofia’s caller ID flashed on the screen. Narrowing her eyes, she swiped to answer, voice immediately sharp.

“Well, it’s about damn time,” Jullianna began, tone clipped. “I’ve been waiting for you to call, and now you finally do.”

Sofia’s tone was light, almost too casual. “Why good morning to you too, Disney princess. How’s it going?”

“How’s it going? How’s it going?” Jullianna repeated incredulously. “Comment ça va? Vraiment? Tu es sérieusement en train de te moquer de moi?! Sofia, do you have any idea of what you’ve put me through?”

There was a pause on the other end. “What are you even talking about? You know how I can’t understand any of what you’re saying, right?”

“Oh don’t you play innocent with me,” Jullianna snapped. “Karting, Sofia. Karting! You didn’t even bother to tell me how to drive the freaking damn thing! I had to watch youtube videos just to figure out what I was supposed to do. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

Sofia chuckled nervously. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I didn’t think it would be a big deal, papá would’ve helped you.”

“He did,” Jullianna admitted begrudgingly. “But that’s not the point! You could’ve warned me!”

“Fine, I’ll make it up to you,” Sofia said, tone placating. “But seriously, Jules, it’s only karting. You survived, right?”

“Barely,” Jullianna muttered, crossing her arms. “And you’re lucky I did, because I would’ve switched back and made you deal with the mess.”

The line went quiet for a moment, and then Sofia’s voice softened. “I’m sorry, Jules. I didn’t really mean to make things harder for you. I’ll give you all the details next time, okay?”

Jullianna exhaled, some of her frustration easing. “Fine. Alright. But that’s not all we need to talk about.”

“Oh?” Sofia sounded wary. “What now?”

“Stephanie.”

“Stepha-who now?”

“Exactly,” Jullianna said, dropping onto the edge of the bed. “She’s some woman papá had apparently been seeing, and she keeps on coming over to the house like she owns the place. I had to deal with her the other day, and let me tell you, she’s awful.”

Sofia’s voice hardened. “I haven’t heard of her before. When did this start?”

“Eh, probably while we're at camp,” Jullianna said bitterly. “Alejandra told me this woman had been coming around, and from what I’ve seen, she’s trouble. Fake, loud, annoying—you name it, she got it. The worst part? Papá seems completely oblivious to it.”

“Well that doesn’t sound good,” Sofia said. “Keep an eye on that woman. If she’s really as bad as you say, we’ll figure something out. But don’t let that woman get to you, okay? She’s not worth your energy.”

“Easier said than done,” Jullianna muttered.

The twins were so engrossed in their conversation that Jullianna barely registered Fernando calling out for her downstairs. “Sofia! ¡Vamos! It’s time to go!

Jullianna jumped up, glancing at the clock. “I’ve got to go, papá’s waiting for me. We’re going to play a few rounds of tennis.”

“Alrighty. Good luck, Sofia,” Sofia teased.

“Oh shut up.” Jullianna rolled her eyes.

“But seriously though, keep me updated about Stanley.”

“Fia, it’s Stephanie,” Jullianna replied, and Sofia just blew raspberries at her. “And will do. Talk to you later, ugly.”

“Hey! We look just th—” Jullianna ended the call before Sofia could even respond.

Jullianna stuffed her phone into the tennis bag and grabbed Sofia’s tennis racket from where it leaned against the wall, and headed downstairs. Fernando was waiting by the front door, dressed in an equally sporty outfit like Jullianna and holding his own tennis racket.

“Finally,” he said with a smile. “You ready?”

Jullianna nodded with a smile. “Ready.”

The sun was high overhead when Jullianna and Fernando stepped onto the private tennis court—air was warm but pleasant, with a light breeze that rustled the nearby trees. Jullianna adjusted the grip on the racket, movements fluid and confident. Playing tennis was her forté, and it was surely worlds away from the stress and confusion of karting or dealing with unwelcome houseguests like Stephanie.

Fernando took his place on the opposite side of the court, bouncing the tennis ball a couple of times before looking up at Jullianna with a grin. “You ready, chiquita?”

Jullianna smirked. “Yup!”

Fernando laughed, tossing the ball into the and served with precision. The ball zipped over the net, and Jullianna moved quickly, her racket connecting with a satisfying thwack! as she returned the shot.

The rally began, and for the first few minutes, the only sounds were the rhythmic hits of the ball against the racket, quick and hurried footsteps against the clay surface, and the occasional grunt of effort. Jullianna found herself smiling as she played, thoughts drifting briefly to when her and Sofia had shared a match back at camp walden. It was an intense match, filled with playful trash-talking and endless determination to outdo each other.

But then, Fernando broke the silence, tone casual yet curious. “So,” he began, returning a particularly fast shot, “what do you think of Stephanie?”

Jullianna hesitated, her focus briefly faltering before she sent the ball back over the net. “Stephanie?” she repeated, trying to buy herself some time.

“Yes, Stephanie,” Fernando said, voice light but persistent. “You’ve spent some time with her now. I just want to know what you think of her.”

Jullianna tightened her grip on the racket, her mind racing. She couldn��t very well tell him the truth—that she finds Stephanie insufferable, fake, and most certainly not the right woman for Fernando. Instead, she decided to tread carefully, masking her irritation with forced politeness.

“Well,” she began, returning another shot, “she’s…very put-together. Always dressed nicely, very stylish.” she paused, muttering just loudly enough for herself, not my style, though. Mamá’s much better.

Fernando chuckled, clearly amused by Jullianna’s side comment. “So, you think she’s stylish. That’s good to hear, and it seems like you two are getting along.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jullianna murmured, keeping her tone neutral. She didn’t elaborate further, focusing instead on the ball.

Just when Jullianna thought that the conversation about Stephanie is done, turns out that it’s not. Fernando wasn’t done. As the rally continued, his tone shifted slightly, becoming more serious.

“Sofia,” Fernando said, eyes following the ball as it sailed over the net, “I’ve been thinking about the future, and you know that I’m not getting any younger. Sooner or later I’m about to retire soon from Formula 1, and I want to know what you think about Stephanie joining the family.”

Jullianna froze for a split second, the racket nearly slipping from her hands. The words hung in the air, heavy and unmistakable. She knew exactly what he meant, but she decided to play dumb, her voice laced with forced confusion.

“Joining the family? What do you mean, papá? Are you planning to adopt her or something?” Jullianna said jokingly.

Fernando let out a hearty laugh, clearly amused by Jullianna’s sarcasm. “No, chiquita. Not adoption.” he hesitated for a moment before continuing, tone filled with quiet excitement. “What I mean is that I proposed to her.”

The words hit Jullianna like a freight train. For a brief moment, she stood frozen in place, staring at her father as if she had not heard him correctly. Then, as the reality of his statement sank in, something inside her snapped. Jullianna’s next hit was ferocious, with the ball rocketing past Fernando so fast that he barely had time to react. He turned to watch it bounce out of bounds, a look of surprise on his face.

“Wow,” Fernando said with a laugh, jogging to retrieve the ball. “That was quite the shot, eh?”

But Jullianna was not done. Her hits became more aggressive, each one more powerful than the last. She was not just playing tennis anymore, she was channeling all of her anger and frustration into every swing. Fernando was struggling to keep up, missing shot after shot as the intensity of the game escalated.

“Sofia, mi vida,” he called out, tone now tinged with concern. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Jullianna didn’t answer, her jaw clenched, and eyes burning with a mix of anger and betrayal. Finally, after one last blistering shot that Fernando couldn’t even attempt to return, she threw the racket with force—destroying it in the process and turned on her heel.

“Sofia!” Fernando called after her, voice filled with confusion as to why his daughter was acting up. “Where are you going?”

But Jullianna didn’t look back. She walked briskly off the court, chest heaving with unspoken words, and tears of frustration stinging her eyes. When Jullianna reached the front door of the house—still angry and frustrated, she grabbed the handle and turned it open, but in her haste and anger, she twisted it the wrong way. The door didn’t budge.

“¡Por favor!” she hissed, shaking the handle violently.

When it still refused to open, Jullianna growled in frustration, yanking the door with all her strength. Finally, it gave way, and she stumbled inside, muttering to herself. She glanced at the door handle, relieved to see it hadn’t broken. Once inside, she marched into the living room, pacing back and forth, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the floor.

“Comment peut-il penser que c’est une bonne idée?” she muttered, throwing her hands in the air. “Who even is she? Elle est insupportable!”

Jullianna’s rant alternated between languages—English, French, and Spanish, as her thoughts tumbled out uncontrollably. “He proposed? To her? ¡Dios mío, papá, estás loco!”

She stopped pacing momentarily, pressing her hands to her forehead. “This is not happening. This cannot be happening. I can’t handle this alone, I’m only one kid.”

Lost in her tirade, Alejandra peeks around the corner of the armchair she’s been sitting in with a cup of coffee in her hands. Alejandra initially assumed Sofia was in one of her usual moods, but the erratic pacing and the odd blend of languages caught Alejandra’s attention.

When Jullianna finally turned around, Alejandra cleared her throat gently. “¿Tienes algo que quieras compartir con la clase, mi chica?”

Jullianna froze mid-step, head snapping up—to which she immediately regretted because of the strain of her action. Her eyes widened in shock, the usually composed façade already slipping. Her heart was racing so fast, and quickly straightened her posture, smoothing her tennis skirt and forcing a smile.

“Alejandra! I didn’t see you there, you gave me a fright!” she said, tone overly bright.

Alejandra sat her coffee cup down at the side table, her eyes narrowing slightly as she stood up from the armchair and slowly approached Jullianna.

“You didn’t see me? Gave you a fright? I’ve been sitting here the whole time, chica. You were so lost in your own thoughts, or rather, in frustration, that you didn’t notice.” Alejandra folded her arms, studying Jullianna closely. “¿Qué está pasando? En serio.”

“Nothing, I swear!” Jullianna replied too quickly, smile tightening. “Just…a lot on my mind lately.”

Alejandra tilted her head, gaze sharpening. “¿Seguro que no hay nada de lo que quieras hablarme?” she asked for the second time. “You’ve been acting strange, mi niña.”

“Strange?” Jullianna echoed nervously, the forced smile on her face faltering. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Alejandra took a step closer, expression skeptical. “Sí, extraño. For one, you’re acting too proper—using expressions like you gave me a fright, the way you eat—you barely touch your food now, and even the way you speak sometimes, it’s different. I didn’t even know you speak French.”

Jullianna opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words. She tried to come up with some silly excuse, anything to divert Alejandra’s growing suspicion, but her mind went completely blank.

“Alejandra,” she trailed off, “I changed a lot over the summer, that’s all.”

Alejandra’s gaze softened, though her tone remained firm. “Si no lo supiera, diría que es casi como si estuvieras…” she paused for a little bit, “Ay dios mío, no importa, eso es demasiado imposible.”

Jullianna hesitated, the weight of the secret she had been carrying threatening to crush her. “Almost as if I were who, Alejandra?”

“Nadie, nadie. Chica tonta, olvida que lo mencioné.” Alejandra chuckled. “Why don’t I make your favorite food, huh? I think that tennis session with your papá had made you hungry.”

Finally, Jullianna sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She couldn’t take it any longer, so she’ll take the chance now. “¿Casi como si fuera Jullianna?”

Alejandra’s eyes widened. “What?” her breath hitched. “You know about Jullianna?”

“I am Jullianna.” Jullianna breathed out.

For a moment, silence hung heavy between them. Alejandra stared at her, mouth opening and closing as she’s trying to process what was happening. Then, tears welled up in Alejandra’s eyes.

“¿De verdad eres Jullianna?” Alejandra asked, voice trembling.

Jullianna nodded, her own eyes glistening. “Yes, it’s me.”

Alejandra’s hands flew to her mouth as a sob escaped her. “¡Mi niña!” she cried, rushing forward to embrace Jullianna.

The hug was tight, almost crushing, but Jullianna didn’t mind. She wrapped her arms around Alejandra, feeling an unexpected wave of comfort.

“No puedo creerlo!” Alejandra said through her tears. “The last time I saw and held you, you were just a baby—barely a year old. You and your mother left for France after the divorce. I thought that I would never see you again.”

Jullianna blinked back tears. “I’ve missed you too, Alejandra.”

Alejandra pulled back slightly, cupping Jullianna’s face in her hands. “¡Oh, mírate!” she said, voice filled with awe. “All grown up, but still the same little girl that I used to hold in my arms. But why are you here in Spain? Where is Sofí?”

Jullianna hesitated, unsure how much to more of her and Sofia’s plan she could reveal. “It’s…complicated,” she said finally.

Alejandra nodded, sensing that Jullianna wasn’t ready to share everything just yet. “Alright,” she said gently. “But you have to be careful, mi niña. If your papá finds out—”

“I know,” Jullianna interrupted, voice firm. “That’s why I need you to keep this between us. Please, Alejandra.”

“Of course,” Alejandra nodded. “Haría cualquier cosa por ti.”

Fernando stepped inside of the house, chest heaving as he called out, “Sofia! ¿Dónde estás?” his voice echoed through the house with urgency.

The sounds of Fernando’s footsteps grew louder as he entered the living room, and Jullianna stiffened, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest. Alejandra had sensed the tension, so she placed a comforting hand on Jullianna’s shoulder.

“Está bien,” Alejandra whispered gently. “I’ll leave you two to talk, I’ll be at the kitchen and prepare you some snacks.”

Jullianna nodded, watching as Alejandra quietly exited the living room and headed towards the kitchen. She barely had a moment to collect her thoughts before Fernando appeared in the doorway of the living room, looking left and right for Jullianna. When he saw her, he paused, hands on his hips, exhaling deeply as though trying to steady himself.

“Sofí,” he said softly, tone coaxing. “Come, sit with me, princesa.” Fernando gestured to the couch.

She hesitated but eventually walked over and perched on the edge of the couch, arms crossed defensively over her chest. Jullianna’s gaze stayed fixed on the floor, refusing to meet her father’s eyes.

Fernando sat beside her, leaving a careful distance between them. “Why did you run off like that mi vida?” he asked, voice gentler now.

Jullianna did not respond, jaw tightening.

“Sofía,” Fernando pressed, leaning forward slightly. “I proposed to Stephanie the other night. It was a very special moment for us—”

“Stop. I’m gonna stop you right there,” Jullianna cut in sharply, standing abruptly. The words struck a huge nerve within her, and she could not hold back any longer. “Just stop, papá, please.”

Fernando blinked, surprised by her sudden outburst. “¿Qué te pasa? Why are you acting like this?”

Jullianna turned to face Fernando, eyes blazing with nothing but anger. “Because it is outrageous!” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re marrying her? That woman? Marrying Stephanie?”

He frowned. “And what is so outrageous about that?”

“Oh my god, papá! That woman’s practically young enough to be my sister!” Jullianna shot back, pacing back and forth as her emotions spilled over. “Do you not see how absurd this is? All of it!”

“I never knew you would be reacting like this,” Fernando stood, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Sofía, calm down, por favor. There’s no need to—”

“Je suis calme!” Jullianna shouted like a maniac, clearly not calm at all. She began to switch to French again without even realizing it, her words tumbling out in a torrent. “Comment peux-tu faire ça? As-tu même pensé à ce que cela signifierait pour nous? C’est insensé! Je ne peux pas croire que tu ferais ça. Elle n’est pas la bonne pour toi, papa. Pas du tout!”

Fernando furrowed his eyebrows, stepping in closer towards Jullianna. “What…French? Desde cuándo hablas francés?”

Jullianna stopped pacing, momentarily caught off guard. “I-I um, uh, learned it at camp,” she said quickly, brushing past the question. “But that’s not the point!”

She faced Fernando. Taking a deep breath, she began, voice softening slightly. “I’m sorry for my outburst,” she said, brushing her hair back from her face. “But we need to talk about this rationally.”

Fernando nodded, motioning for her to sit again, but Jullianna preferred standing. “Alright, alright,” he said. “Let’s talk. But in a language we can both understand, por favor mi vida.”

He sighed, patience already visibly thinning. “Sofía, I don’t understand why this is upsetting you so much. Stephanie has been kind to you, hasn’t she? She’s made every effort to—”

“Kind?” Jullianna scoffed, cutting him off. “That’s not the issue, papá. This isn’t about her being nice, this is about you thinking you can just bring someone into our lives and marry them without even considering how it affects everything!”

Feenando’s brows furrowed deeply. “I have considered it. Stephanie is someone I care about, and I thought you would—”

“Well you thought wrong!” Jullianna interrupted, voice rising again. She felt the heat of tears threatening to spill but blinked them back furiously. “You can’t do this, papa. You can’t marry her—or anyone else! It will ruin everything!”

He opened his mouth to respond, but before Fernando could even say a word, Jullianna already turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her tennis shoes squeaking against the floor.

“Sofía!” Fernando called after her, voice tinged with frustration and confusion. But she didn’t stop despite how many times Fernando called out for her.

Jullianna slumped into the St. Anthony’s face-to-face swing, letting her head fall back against the smooth wood. She exhaled sharply, crossing her arms over her chest, still reeling from what she had just learned. Fernando had proposed to Stephanie. Proposed. The word itself made her stomach churn.

This was worse than she and Sofia had imagined. They had time, or so they thought. But now, with a ring on Stephanie’s finger, the entire course of action had been changed—everything was moving too fast. Jullianna and Sofia had to quickly put their plan into motion if they even want to stop this wedding from happening, they need to act now. But there was only one viable solution: they had to get you and Fernando back together.

Jullianna was deep in thought, brainstorming ways to subtly, but not-so-subtly, bring you to Spain or maybe one of his races so that she and Sofia can just push you both back towards each other, when a sudden knock against the wooden frame of the swing had startled Jullianna. Her head snapped up, and saw Stephanie.

“Mind if I join you?” Stephanie asked, voice light and airy, as if she had just wandered into the garden without a care in the world.

Before Jullianna could even answer, Stephanie lowered herself onto the vacant seat of the swing, facing her directly. Jullianna barely stopped herself from grimacing, just looking at Stephanie made her want to barf.

Stephanie clasped her hands together, tilting her head slightly. “I can imagine how surprised you must have been by the engagement news.”

Jullianna forced a tight-lipped smile, words laced with passive aggression. “Oh, shock doesn’t even begin to cover it, honestly.”

Stephanie just chuckled, completely oblivious to the sharp edge in Jullianna’s tone. She relaxed herself on the seat, movements elegant and poised, as if this were just another casual afternoon chat. Forcing herself not to groan, Jullianna braced herself for whatever nonsense Stephanie was about to spew.

“You know,” Stephanie began, leaning slightly forward, “eleven is such a very wonderful age.”

Jullianna arched an eyebrow. What in the actual world does that have to do with any of this?

Stephanie smiled wistfully, as if she was reminiscing about something so precious. “When I was eleven, I had my first beau.” She let out a soft laugh, eyes sparkling with nostalgia.

“It was the first time I really started to feel like a woman.” she sighed dramatically. “That’s when I realized love was this fantastic, exhilarating mystery, one that takes a man and a woman on the most magical journey.”

Jullianna’s hand was tightly gripping the armrest of the swing, jaw now clenched, and resisting the great force of rolling her eyes. Oh, for the love of all things holy. She kept her expression neutral, pretending to listen, but internally, Jullianna was already pulling her hair out and screaming.

Stephanie continued, completely unaware of Jullianna’s growing irritation. “And believe it or not, you’ll understand that feeling soon,” she said with a knowing smile.

Jullianna just stared at Stephanie, fingers curled slightly now against her arms. She was not sure what was more annoying—Stephanie’s patronizing tone, or the fact that she spoke as if she had somehow unlocked the secrets of the universe. She certainly did not want to sit there, listening to this woman yap on about love like she was some kind of modern day Aristotle.

Before Stephanie could continue her sickly sweet monologue about love and magical journeys, Jullianna lifted a hand slightly, cutting Stephanie off.

“You know, I don’t want to sound all jerky or anything, because, from what I can tell, you’re trying really hard to be all mushy and sentimental.” she tilted her head slightly, letting her eyes linger on Stephanie’s with something close to amusement. “And I think I finally got it.”

Stephanie blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Get what, exactly?”

Jullianna leaned forward slightly, lips curling into a knowing smile. “What my papá sees in you.” she continued, voice still laced with that same passive aggressiveness, but now there was something else woven into it—a challenge. “You’re a beautiful woman. Sexy, even, and my papá? Well, he’s only human, after all.”

Stephanie’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out just yet. Jullianna’s smile widened just a little, though her eyes were sharp.

“But if you ask me, marriage is supposed to be based on something more, don’t you agree?” Jullianna let the question hang in the air for a moment before her smile turned almost innocent. “Something more than just…fornication. If you don’t know what fornication is, it means sex.”

Stephanie’s entire expression shifted. Gone was the light, airy persona. Her posture stiffened just slightly, and the sweetness in her eyes dimmed, now replaced with something sharper, something calculated. Jullianna didn’t flinch though, in fact, she was thoroughly enjoying every bit of it.

She smiled, but it was a whole lot different now. “Oh boy, your papá really underestimates you, doesn’t he?”

Jullianna let out a small, breathy chuckle. “Oh?” she mused, cocking her head slightly, as if intrigued. “And you don’t?”

Stephanie studied her closely, lips still curved, but her eyes darkened. Jullianna could feel it now—she was starting to get on Stephanie’s nerves. It was a beautiful sight and symphony for Jullianna. Good. People always tend to overlook her, underestimated her. People would assume that she was just a kid who did not know any better. She liked it that way. Because nothing thrilled Jullianna more than a good challenge, and judging by the way Stephanie was staring her down, she had just found herself a new one.

She then let out a light laugh, though there was no real humor behind it. Stephanie tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing just a bit as she studied Jullianna with thinly veiled annoyance.

“So what if I’m young and beautiful?” Stephanie mused, voice airy but carrying an undertone of sharpness. “Last time I checked, being young and beautiful isn’t a crime.”

Jullianna simply raised an eyebrow, keeping her smirk firmly in place, which only seemed to annoy the hell out of Stephanie even more.

“And for the record, I know what fornication means, thank you very much. I love your father, I adore him. Your father is exactly the kind of man I’ve always envisioned myself marrying. This—” she gestured between herself and Jullianna as if making some kind of grand declaration, “is the real deal, honey. Nothing, and I say nothing, is going to come between us.”

Jullianna barely blinked at Stephanie’s words. She just leaned back against the wooden swing, one arm lazily draped over the armrest, completely unbothered, and yawning out of boredom to piss off Stephanie more.

While Stephanie, on the other hand, was growing impatient. She leaned forward slightly, gaze piercing as she said, “you need to understand something, sweetheart. This is the reality now, you have to accept the fact that you’re no longer the only girl in Fernando Alonso’s life. You need to get over it.”

That did it. Jullianna’s lips curled into an even bigger smirk, one that was almost too smug, too knowing. It made Stephanie’s fingers twitch slightly, as if she were resisting the urge to wipe the expression right off her face. She leaned in slightly as well, resting her elbows on her knees as she stared Stephanie down.

“Oh? That’s the reality, huh?” she drawled, voice dripping with amusement.

Jullianna continued, her smirk never wavering. “So, just to be clear that we’re on the same page here, papá’s money has nothing to do with any of this? No part of you thinks that marrying him just so happens to come with a very very comfortable lifestyle?”

Stephanie’s expressions had immediately tightened, but she quickly schooled her features back into something neutral. “Are you insinuating that I’m marrying your father for his money?” she asked, feigning offense, though her voice was just a little too even to be genuine.

Jullianna simply shrugged, the smirk on her face never fading. “I’m not insinuating anything, but if that’s what you think, then feel free to think of such things,” she said innocently, though her eyes were gleaming with mischief. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen this in a film before. I mean, come on, I’ve watched cinderella more times than I can count.”

Stephanie’s brows furrowed slightly, unsure of where this was going. Jullianna sighed dramatically and shook her head. “And if this whole shazam isn’t about money, then great! But personally? I’d rather not end up scrubbing the floors and befriending the neighborhood birds while you have breakfast in bed, smiling down at me from your throne in papá’s house.”

Her entire face stiffened at what Jullianna just said, lips pressing together tightly as the words settled between them. For the first time in their entire conversation, Stephanie had no response at all, and that? That brought nothing but pure, unadulterated joy.

However, Stephanie’s entire demeanor changed the moment Jullianna’s words sank in. Her perfectly poised expression faltered, just for a second, before her brows furrowed and her lips pressed into a thin, irritated line. It was the exact reaction that Jullianna had been hoping for. She had successfully gotten under Stephanie’s skin, and now? Now she was really starting to see the cracks in the woman her father wanted to marry.

Stephanie inhaled sharply, composing herself before leaning forward again, but this time, her face was mere inches from Jullianna’s. She locked eyes with her, the intensity of her gaze enough to make most people shrink under the pressure. But not Jullianna.

“You are unbelievably out of line, jovencita,” Stephanie said in a low voice, tone dripping with controlled frustration.

Jullianna simply blinked up at her, her smirk never faltering. Stephanie exhaled through her nose, clearly trying to keep herself from snapping. Then, with slow precision, she spoke, enunciating each word carefully.

“Listen to me, and you listen good,” she began, voice dangerously soft. “I’m marrying your father whether you like it or not. So if I were you, I’d quit playing whatever little game you think you’re playing and stay out of my way.”

Jullianna raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly as if contemplating Stephanie’s words, but said nothing. Stephanie leaned more closer, voice dropping even more lower.

“You are way in over your head, sweetheart,” she continued, tone carrying a hint of condescension. “So I suggest you don’t tangle yourself up in things you clearly don’t understand.”

There was a heavy pause. Stephanie studied Jullianna’s face, waiting for some kind of reaction, for her to look intimidated, or at least acknowledge the warning, and Stephanie took Jullianna’s silence as an agreement, she leaned back on the swing, arm draping over the armrest.

Instead, Jullianna just smiled. Not a polite smile, not a nervous smile. But a slow, teasing, infuriating smirk. Then, she shrugged, Stephanie’s eye twitching. Before the woman could say another word, Jullianna stood up, stretching slightly as if this whole conversation had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience for her. Without a warning, she bent down so that she was now the one at Stephanie’s eye level.

“Je comprends parfaitement, Cruella.” she said smoothly. Stephanie blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

Jullianna smiled again, that same mischievous, knowing grin that had been pushing all of Stephanie’s buttons. Then, because Jullianna was still eleven after all, and feeling particularly childish, she blew raspberries right in Stephanie’s face, wherein the woman recoiled, visibly appalled. Jullianna giggled, straightening up before giving her soon-to-be stepmother a playful wink.

“Au revoir, Stéphanie,” she said cheerfully.

Jullianna turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the woman completely dumbfounded.

taglist : @qghosty , @seonghwaexile , @linnygirl09 , @tallrock35 , @madnesstaking0ver , @akulici , @scopeiguess , @ferakillia , @exactlycoralfox , @iambored24601 , @mx13sworld , @tibadi , @chainsawangel

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moonjellysfeast · 14 hours ago

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My Own Galatea- Crybaby x Top Male Reader Cont.

cw; Manipulation, abuse, unethical science, dehumanization, murder plotted but not described, minor hornt at the end, you answer a call while fucking, Crybaby is @yanderefarm's character

Of course, you weren't only there to train Crybaby into an obedient weapon. Elias needed a gentle touch too and as soon as he stopped remembering what he did as the other persona he was ready to be trained in a new way. After all, you planned to bring Elias home and make him yours.

"Elias, please come here" He refused to move due to his earlier training, "You know you can trust me, right? We're friends, you can listen to me"

"But... only Crybaby listens... Right?"

"Oh, lovely, no. Crybaby obeys because he is a conduit, You ought to listen of your own choice. Because we are friends, Elias. Because I want you to" You smiled at the boy who looked like a kicked puppy even as you repeated your request and he scrambled to kneel in front of you and rest his head on your lap.

"Good, thank you, my sweet" You pet his head, letting the gentleness be his reward.

"I'm so glad we're so close now, when we first met I had to be so... careful with you" You laced your fingers through his hair as you spoke, soon wrapping the locks around your fingers to pull his head up at an uncomfortable angle to ensure he was looking up at your grin. "Now you're so malleable~"

He whined a bit at the strain in his neck but made no move to escape, in fact, leaning into your touch and staring up at you with adoration. You had to stifle a laugh at how pathetic he looked, the perfect little puppet for you to toy with. So eager to please that anything could bring him immense pleasure if it were from you. This included the torture he underwent to make him a perfect warrior.

When you could not be the one to administer his treatments he had to be restrained as Crybaby to ensure your Elias would stay sweet and to help him learn to be angry and more aggressive as Crybaby. If it was you, he only had to be restrained to keep himself from pushing the tools further into himself and ruining his body. It was bad enough that you were very soon only permitted to give him injections or other, less torture focused treatments. Though, you made sure to get recordings of his torture so you knew every single thing that was happening to him, as well as to entertain yourself in times where you missed his big wet eyes.

Eventually, you decided he needed a test run to ensure he could kill efficiently. You even had a victim in mind, one of the other scientists in the building who worked with him often and yet still seemed to believe they had moral superiority over you. They always looked at you with disgust and often commented on the fact you were a darling, seeming to believe the gene made you subhuman. To guide Crybaby in the correct direction you complained a few times to him about that person, even showing him pictures so he could recognize them. You knew if he were to simply focus on killing them he'd likely be taken out by the security, so to keep him safe you told him about your usual trip home so he could have a second goal and not let himself die.

You reasoned that if it didn't work you could likely find someone else to train into a perfect doll, though you had put so much work into Elias, you couldn't say you weren't worried. You finally determined he was ready and told him very directly that you wished for the death of your coworker before you went home for the day. You did not get to see exactly what happened, sitting at home and waiting for either a masked, blood soaked puppet or a message from your boss on the death or major injury of Crybaby.

After a few hours, you became very concerned, imagining his death at the hands of some stupid guard, so far from you. Finally a gentle knock came from the door before it opened and he stumbled in, dropping to his knees and bowing down towards you like he was praying. You couldn't help but grin as you lifted his head and peeled the mask off, the adorable, tear stricken face looking up at you with baited breath, awaiting his next order.

"Very good job, Crybaby~ You finally came home~ Now, Elias, let's get you cleaned up and in bed, You deserve a reward, don't you~"

He was now ready to be trained as your housepet, at your beck and call. This portion of training would be so much easier, he was already prepared to be obedient, he only needed to be guided. As it turned out, he also needed to be subdued as he was far too excited to receive your attention. You didn't even have the chance to pull out of him when your boss called to explain that he'd escaped. You did answer and she did hear him very loudly whining about your attention being away from him for even a moment. Suffice to say, you got to keep him in your home most of the time after that.

#top male reader #top reader #sub yandere #on the platter #on the platter(appetizer)#I'm not nearly as happy with this half #but que sera sera #If bunny doesn't like it I'll rewrite it better

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hoshifighting · 6 months ago

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Nerd!Seungcheol

— Synopsis: After finding Nerdy!Seungcheol crying in the corner of the locker room because his girlfriend broke up with him to be with a jock after joining in the cheerleading team, you decide to help him and do everything he wished his ex-girlfriend had done. — WC: 6.6k — WARNINGS: smut, fluff, crack, some bickering—slight enemies2lovers plot, he cries, seungcheol is not a virgin (but his ex never gave him blowjob), mentions of alcohol (beer), mentions of glow-up, reader uses short dress and mentions short skirt, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, cock riding, answering phone in the middle of the sex—voyeur?, hickeys, body fluids (cum) and cringey mentions of hands mimics (fingering/blowjob).

As you head to the dressing room to grab your things after your Friday lonely practice, the usual silence from the night is broken by a faint, muffled sound. You pause, listening intently. It’s a sniffling noise, followed by broken pants. Curiosity piqued, you follow the sound deeper into the lockers, your footsteps echoing softly against the tiled floor.

Turning the corner, you find Seungcheol, huddled in a corner, hugging his knees to his chest.

“Seungcheol? What are you doing here?” you ask, a smirk tugging at your lips. Teasing him is practically second nature to you.

His head snaps up, eyes wide and red-rimmed. “What do you want?” he snaps back, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

You place a hand on your waist, raising an eyebrow. “I think the better question is, why are you in the women’s locker room?”

His eyes widen in realization. “Seriously?” he mutters, scrambling to his feet, the embarrassment clear on his tear-streaked face.

You roll your eyes and turn to leave.

You wait just outside, leaning against the wall with your phone, scrolling through messages, pretending not to notice the state he’s in.

A few moments later, Seungcheol emerges, his face still blotchy from crying but now trying to pull himself together. He dries his tears on his sweatshirt, still hiccuping softly.

“Spill it,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “What happened?”

He hesitates, but he knows that on Monday, everyone will know about it. “Minji broke up with me,” he admits, his voice cracking. “She’s dating Jaehyun from the basketball team now.”

It’s a stereotype for a reason. “And you didn’t see that coming?”

Seungcheol’s face crumples again, and you immediately regret your harsh words.

But you can't help it! Jaehyun is the quintessential jock, the kind of guy who always ends up dating cheerleaders. It’s almost cliché.

Seungcheol nods continuing, looking down at his feet. “I knew she wanted more popularity, but I didn’t think she’d...”

“Look, Seungcheol, she’s not worth it if she’s willing to dump you for some jock just to boost her social status.” You shrug as you walk toward the hallway exit.

He looks up at you, eyes filled with confusion. “Why are you being nice to me?”

You shrug, slipping your phone into your bag. “I can’t let you mope around like this. It’s pathetic.”

He manages a weak smile at that. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll walk you back to your dorm,” you say, starting to walk again.

You leave Seungcheol at his dorm, giving him a final glance. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you need to toughen up.”

The weekend passes in a blur of volleyball practice and social events. You don’t see Seungcheol at all, not even a glimpse. Sunday night, you find yourself at a party, scanning the crowded room. There she is—Minji, with Jaehyun, surrounded by people. They look like the picture-perfect couple, a stark contrast to the image of Seungcheol crying in the women’s locker room just two nights ago.

After the party, you head to the convenience store near the university dorms to grab a late-night snack before heading to bed. As you wander down the ramen aisle, you almost bump into someone. You look up and see Seungcheol, his face so fucking swollen and hidden under a hood.

“What the fuck happened to your face?” you whisper, startled, clutching your snacks.

He scoffs, “What do you think? Been crying all weekend.”

You furrow your brows. “Seriously? You’ve been crying the whole time?”

“What do you think?” he repeats, more bitterly this time, grabbing a pack of ramen.

You both head to the cashier, the cashier glancing curiously at Seungcheol's disheveled appearance. As you walk towards the dorm buildings, it strikes you how funny you must look together—your party dress barely covering your ass, and his baggy 'I'm not going to see anyone I know' clothes.

“Man, if you’re going to show up looking like this tomorrow, you might as well ask to leave college for real,” you say, shaking your head.

He sighs, his voice weary. “I’m not going to drop out because of her.”

“Then stop crying,” you reply, exasperated.

He snaps at you, “What do you even know about it?”

You pause in your tracks and give him a hard stare. “While you were crying your eyes out all weekend, she was giving Jaehyun head in his car, like, minutes ago,” you say, your face contorting with disgust at the memory.

His eyes open wide. “She gave him head?! What a whore. She never even gave me a blowjob.” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You raise an eyebrow, munching on your snack. “She never did? Seriously?”

He looks even more pissed, fists clenching at his sides. “I swear! And I always—never mind…”

“Dude, you were crying over someone who’s not even worth it,” you say, shaking your head. “She’s obviously just using Jaehyun for popularity. She’s not worth your tears.”

He kicks a pebble on the sidewalk, the anger beaming off him. “I thought she loved me.”

“Pfft! Clearly, she didn't,” you reply, shrugging. “She’s a social climber. She’ll do whatever it takes to get to the top.”

He looks at you, grabbing a handful of your snacks “You’re right. I’m done with her.” he mutters, chewing monstrously. Seungcheol frowns, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “How did you even know about that?”

“I was at the party,” you admit with a shrug.

He glances at you, taking in your outfit and the faint smell of feminine perfume mixed with alcohol. “Now it makes sense why you smell like that and why you’re dressed like this at 11 p.m. on a Sunday,” He glances down, taking in your party dress that’s riding high.

He recalls the moment in the convenience store when you bent down to grab some Takis from the bottom shelf, your ass almost completely exposed. He had glanced, unfortunately and quickly moved to stand behind you, rolling his eyes, blocking the cashier's view, who was wide-eyed and staring.

“Man, I gotta tell you about all the crap I had to put up with.” he begins.

You listen attentively, craving some juicy gossip to cap off your weekend. He needed to vent, and you were going to end the day with some top-tier gossip. A win-win situation.

At his dorm, Seungcheol sits on his bed, and you are plopping down on the chair, eager to hear the tea.

“Can you believe she made me cancel our anniversary dinner because she wanted to go to some stupid party instead?” he says, shaking his head.

“No way!” you exclaim, licking Takis powder off your fingers, your eyes wide with interest.

He nods, exasperated. “Yeah, and she didn’t even tell me until the last minute. I had this whole thing planned, and she just ditched me.”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, munching on another Takis.

“And she always made me do her assignments. I spent countless nights writing essays for her while she was out partying.”

“She did that?” you ask, genuinely shocked.

“Yep,” he sighs, moving restlessly on his bed. “And get this—she once made me wait for three hours outside her dorm because she was ‘getting ready.’ When she finally came out, she said she didn’t feel like going out anymore.”

“That’s insane!” you gasp, shaking your head in disbelief. “She’s the worst.”

“She really is,” he agrees. “And she never wanted to do anything I liked. It was always about her and what she wanted.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s because you’re too nice, Seungcheol. If it were me, I’d have shown up the next day in a mini skirt like this—” You make a gesture with your fingers, indicating something tiny, “—just to rub it in her face.”

He snorts, amused by the thought. “Yeah, well, I guess it’s different for a guy.”

“Maybe,” you reply, pausing as an idea strikes you. “Wait, do you have contact lenses? Or maybe a clipper?”

He looks confused. “What? Why?”

You step closer, gently moving his hair out of his forehead. “Because if you’re going to move on, you need a new look. Let’s start with this mess of hair.”

He looks at you, confused. “You really think that’ll help?”

“Bro, trust me,” you say, determined.

You walk around his room, rummaging through his things, looking for the clipper. Seungcheol sits on his bed, looking at you… Nervously.

As you plug in the clipper, the buzzing sound fills the room. Seungcheol’s eyes widen in alarm. “You’re not going to make me bald, are you?”

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you remember who did the girls’ undercuts below their ponytails for last semester's game?”

His eyes light up in recognition. “That was you?”

You walk back smugly, opening your arms. “Yep, that was all me.”

As you begin cutting his hair, he starts talking again. “You know, she once told me that my glasses made me look like a nerd, and she hated it when I wore them in public.”

You roll your eyes. “Ya! That’s ridiculous. Your glasses suit you. But we can always get you contacts if you want a change.”

You skillfully give him an undercut, trimming his hair and revealing a fresh look. He looks at himself in the mirror, his forehead and thick eyebrows finally getting the attention they deserve. You help him with the contacts, and before you leave his dorm, you give him a final piece of advice.

“No sweaters,” you say firmly.

The next day, as you finish getting ready in your dorm, you hear a knock on the door. Opening it, you find Seungcheol standing there, looking surprisingly handsome in his new look.

“Look at you!” you exclaim, giving him a knowing smile and nodding for him to enter. As you finish getting ready, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

He shuffles his feet, looking a bit shy. “I don’t know, just felt weird going alone.” “You look healthy,” he says, his eyes taking in your appearance.

“Yeah, I took a bath,” you reply, deadpan. “You should try it sometime.”

He chuckles, the nervousness fading a bit.

Together, you head towards the university building. As you walk beside him, you notice people glancing at him, some even doing double-takes. You stand proudly, shoulders squared, almost waving like a beauty queen.

As you and Seungcheol make your way down the hallway, you spot Minji in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by a group of people. Your eyes dart between her, Seungcheol, and Jaehyun, and you think to yourself that this moment is straight out of a movie. You almost wish you had popcorn to complete the scene.

You and Seungcheol walk closer, and you can see Minji's eyes light up as she spots him. She opens her mouth, probably ready to deliver some dramatic line or apology.

But Seungcheol, simply ignores her and doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a glance. His chest puffed out slightly.

You take a fine distance from them, your jaw practically dropping in disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually did that, did you really just ignore her?” you ask, laughing.

Despite his impressive new look, Seungcheol didn’t end up mingling with the jock crowd as you might have expected.

Instead, during recess, you spotted him from afar, sitting with his book club friends. The contrast was cute—here he was, looking like he could easily fit in with the jocks, but he chose to hang out with his old crew, surrounded by books and enthusiastic chat. He stayed true to his roots, hanging out with the people who truly mattered to him

He had the whole package—stylish haircut, fresh look, and yet, he was still the same Seungcheol. Still maintaining his original traits and habits.

The bell rings, signaling the end of classes, and you head towards the dorms, looking forward to a bit of downtime. Suddenly, you hear someone calling after you.

“Hey! Wait up!”

You turn to see Seungcheol jogging towards you, his new look making him stand out even more than before. He’s out of breath but manages a grin. “How can I show my appreciation for what you did?”

You wave him off with a smile. “You don’t need to do anything.”

He pouts, looking genuinely disappointed. “Come on, please!”

You roll your eyes, teasingly. “Calm down, nerd! Hmm, maybe just a beer or something?”

His face brightens at the suggestion. “Beer? That sounds perfect!”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you both start walking together.

As you and Seungcheol sit at a small corner table in the campus bar, nursing your beers, he takes a swig and shakes his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe I’m drinking on a Monday,” he says, looking at his beer as if it might somehow magically make the week less mundane.

You laugh, leaning back in your chair. “Sometimes it feels like drinking just becomes a part of the routine. It’s like college fucks you up so much that you need these little escapes to keep your sanity.”

Seungcheol nods in agreement, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Yeah, it’s kind of messed up how we end up just normalizing this stuff.”

You both sip in comfortable silence for a moment before he glances at his phone, scrolling through a chat. “Oh, hey, look at this,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that?”

He shows you a photo on his phone. It’s from the party you were at on Sunday—Minji inside Jaehyun’s car, Minji’s head is down, clearly giving him a blowjob, and Jaehyun’s face is smug. Your face scrunches up in disgust as you look at it.

“Ugh, yeah, that’s what I saw,” you say, cringing. “I didn’t want to think about it again.”

Seungcheol sighs heavily. “It’s just... seeing that, after everything that happened, it’s like she’s moved on and I’m left here...”

You take a deep breath, considering his frustration. “Yeah, I get it. It’s a shitty situation.”

He looks at you. “You know, I never really got why she never... I mean, she never did that for me. Not that I’m complaining or anything.”

You blink, taken aback by his confession. “She has never given you a blowjob? You were serious then?”

Seungcheol nods, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, and now seeing her do it for Jaehyun... it just feels like a slap in the face.”

You sip your beer, thinking it over. The whole situation has him worked up, and you can’t help but feel a bit sympathetic.

“Damn, that’s rough. I can see why you’d be so pissed.”

“it’s like, she was so willing to do it with Jaehyun, but never with me,” he says, clearly frustrated.

“Well, now you know,” you say, a bit smugly. “She was obviously saving that for Jaehyun.”

He looks down at his beer, indeed annoyed. “Yeah, she was a piece of work. I guess I should have seen it coming.”

“Well, we could always find a way to have some fun and blow off steam. I’m sure there’s a way to make you forget about Minji’s bullshit.”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow with curiosity. “Like what?”

“I’m sure we could figure something out. Maybe even something you’ve been wanting for a while.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh really? And what’s that?”

You lean in even closer, your voice barely a whisper. “Let’s just say, I know a thing or two about making someone forget their ex and feel a lot better. Are you interested?”

You smirk, is he acting, or he's that bad at catching hints?

He looks at you, catching the hint. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

You grin, leaning in a bit closer. “Depends on what you think I’m saying.”

He blushes slightly, his eyes meeting yours. “Careful, Y/N. You’re making it sound like you’re fishing for something specific.”

“Maybe I am. Just putting it out there.” you shrug.

“Are you serious? Stop playin' with me.”

“I'm dead serious.”

He looks at you, contemplating the offer. “You know what? Let’s do it.”

You can't quite pinpoint if it's the alcohol working its magic, loosening up inhibitions, or if it’s just the chemistry between you and Seungcheol, but his attempts at flirting are hitting all the right notes. There’s a certain charm to the way he’s leaning closer, trying to gauge your reactions with every word he says.

He takes a sip of his beer, his eyes meeting yours. “You know,” he starts, his voice a bit slurred, “I’ve always admired how you can just say whatever you want.”

You laugh softly, leaning in to match his tone. “Oh really? And what else do you admire?”

He smiles, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Well, for starters, your confidence. And the way you’re not afraid to call me out. It’s actually pretty sexy.”

The alcohol seems to be giving him a boldness you’ve never seen before. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face a bit clumsy.

“You’re drunk,” you tease, though you can’t deny the flutter of excitement his touch brings.

“Maybe,” he admits, his gaze lingering on your lips. “But I’m not too drunk to know when something feels right.”

“Seungcheol,” you say softly, trying to keep things light but feeling a pull towards him, “are you sure you want to go down this road?”

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

[...]

The scent of your dorm—so unmistakably you—fills Seungcheol's senses, making him harder than ever. As he stands before you, your naked form on your knees, your hand between your legs touching your throbbing clit, and the sight of you looking up at him with hunger in your eyes, it’s enough to make his head spin.

You stroke his cock with one hand, licking your lips like you’re about to devour him.

His cheeks are flushed, maybe from the alcohol, maybe from the very embarrassment of the situation. He bites his bottom lip, eyes wide with anticipation, his cock starting to ache with need. The handjob you’re giving him is good, but it’s not nearly enough.

“Fuck, you’re so hard,” you murmur, your voice dripping with lust. You can feel his cock twitching in your hand, the head sticky with precum.

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes glued to the sight of your hand moving up and down his shaft.

You lean in, your tongue flicking out to taste the precum at the tip of his cock. The salty, slightly bitter taste coats your tongue, and you hum appreciatively, savoring the flavor. Seungcheol's breath hitches, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

“Oh, fuck!” he groans, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

You smile up at him, loving his reaction. You want this to be memorable, to engrave this moment into his mind permanently. You give the head of his cock a few teasing licks before enveloping your lips around it.

“Holy shit, Y/N!” he groans, his voice ragged. As you slide your mouth further down, taking him deeper, his body curls inward, every muscle tensing. It’s like you’re sucking every ounce of energy from him, and he can barely stand it. Your mouth is so wet, so warm, and you look so devoted, so gorgeous.

You look up at him through your lashes, seeing the absolute ecstasy on his face. You’re dedicated, giving all of yourself to make this perfect for him. You bob your head, sucking him deeper, your cheeks hollowing with the effort. Your tongue works along his length, swirling around the tip before you take him in again.

Seungcheol’s efforts to hold back his moans crumble. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so good,” he whimpers, his voice loaded with desperation. He grips your hair, not to control but to anchor himself, as his arms on the bed threaten to give out.

You hum around his cock, the vibrations making him shudder. You suck harder, your hand stroking the base of his shaft in beat with your mouth. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue, his neediness evident in every spasm and moan.

His moans become louder, more ragged, filling the room. The sound of his pleasure fuels your horniness, and you touch yourself more frantically, your fingers rubbing your clit in time with the movements of your mouth. You’re giving him everything, and you love the way he’s falling apart above you.

“Y/N, I’m so close,” he chokes out whiny. “I can’t… I can’t hold it…”

You look up at him, and suck him even harder, your mouth sliding up and down his length faster. You want to push him over the edge, to give him the orgasm he so desperately needs. Your hand strokes his shaft with more speed, your mouth working tirelessly.

You can't believe that Minji never gave Seungcheol a blowjob. Just the sight of his cock is almost enough to make you cum. With your hand still slick from touching yourself, you grab the base of his shaft and take him as deep as you can, sinking him down your throat.

You hold him there for some seconds, feeling the tears from your gag reflex forming. When you pull back, you see him nearly losing his balance.

Determined to make this unforgettable, you’re willing to suck his very soul out if it means you get to see his face as he cums and hear those incredible moans from him.

Seungcheol’s body tenses, his muscles locking up as the pleasure becomes too much to bear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cries out.

Seungcheol’s entire body convulses, his hips jerking uncontrollably as you milk every drop from him. His eyes roll back, and he lets out a guttural moan, the sound of someone utterly lost in pleasure. You keep sucking him gently, drawing out his orgasm, until he’s left trembling and spent.

When you finally release him, Seungcheol collapses onto the bed, needing to lay down to recover.

You laugh softly, brushing your fingers through his hair, feeling a rush of pride at the look of utter bliss on his face. His eyes flutter open, and he smiles so wide it makes your heart swell.

He sits up slightly, his hand wrapping around your throat. He grips you gently, his thumb brushing over your skin. You’re caught off guard when he leans in, not giving you just a peck, but sliding his tongue into your mouth. You thought he might find it weird after cumming in your mouth, but he does it without hesitation, moaning at the taste.

You can feel your pussy immediately dripping onto the sheets. His kiss is hungry, filled with gratitude and lingering fascination, and you kiss him back just as fervently, your hands tangling in his hair.

When you finally pull away, you both are breathing heavily.

“Damn, Y/N,” he bites his bottom lip. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

Seungcheol's eyes roam over your body, and you can see the determination in his gaze. He wants to pay you back, to show you what he can do. Gently, he lifts you onto the bed, laying you down. He positions himself between your legs, his stomach pressed against the mattress. You hear him hiss slightly as his sensitive dick makes contact with the sheets, but his focus remains on you.

“I’ve been studying up on this, Y/N,” he says with a proud smile, like he’s presenting a perfect exam result. “Time to show you what I’ve learned.”

He starts by kissing your inner thighs, his lips soft and teasing against your skin. You shiver, your breath hitching in tension. When his mouth finally reaches your pussy, he doesn't hesitate. His tongue darts out, tasting you for the first time, and he lets out a low, appreciative hum.

“You taste so good,” he says, almost to himself, before diving in.

He licks a long, slow stripe up your slit, his tongue parting your folds and flicking over your clit. You moan, your hips twitching involuntarily. Seungcheol’s hands grip your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he starts to work his tongue with more ambition.

His tongue encircles your clit, teasing and tormenting, before he sucks it into his mouth, creating a delicious pressure that makes you gasp. He alternates between sucking and licking, his mouth hot and insistent.

You can hear the wet sounds of his mouth on you, mingling with your moans, and it’s driving you even more soaked.

“Oh god, Seungcheol, that feels so good,” you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on. “You’re so good at this, nerd.” you smile looking at him.

He looks up at you eyes light up at the praise. “You like that?” he asks, his voice muffled against your pussy.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” you plead.

He continues to be concentrated on you, his eyes sharp and focused, studying every reaction. His tongue flicks over your clit, and your hips buck against his mouth. He smiles against you, clearly pleased with your response.

Seungcheol grins and shifts slightly, bringing his fingers into play. He teases your entrance with one finger before slowly pushing it inside you, curling it just right to hit that sweet spot—finding it embarrassingly fast. You shout, your back arching off the bed.

“Fuck, Seungcheol, just like that,” you pant, your hips grinding against his face.

He adds a second finger, pumping them in and out of you while his mouth continues its assault on your clit. The combination is mind-blowing, and you can feel yourself hurtling towards the edge. His fingers twist and curl inside you, like they're calling you, pressing against your sweet spot, and your moans become louder, more desperate.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs.. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers.”

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” you beg, your thighs squeezing around his head.

You feel a bit guilty for trapping him like this, but Seungcheol looks delighted, his thick eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he reads every reaction from your body.

He flicks his tongue over your clit in a rapid, persistent move, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm. The wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you, combined with the slick noises from his mouth, are almost obscene, but they only heighten your arousal.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you gasp, your voice breaking. “Don’t stop, Seungcheol, please.”

He doesn’t let up, his tongue and fingers working you with a preciseness that makes your head spin. You can feel the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, ready to snap.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m cumming!” you cry out, your body shuddering violently as the orgasm rips through you.

Seungcheol keeps going, drawing out your orgasm, his fingers curling and his tongue flicking relentlessly. Your moans are loud and broken, your hips grinding against his face as you moan vulgarly, your chest rising as you soak his mouth and face.

Your body convulses, your thighs squeezing him even tighter, and you scream his name, your voice echoing in the room. He continues to lick and finger you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you’re left shaking and breathless.

Finally, he pulls back, his face shining with your arousal, a pleased smile on his lips. “How was that?”

Your body is still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm, and all you can manage is a breathless moan, your hands smudging your face as you try to collect yourself. Seungcheol laughs softly at your reaction.

“I don’t know if I can ride you right now,” you admit, your voice shaking. “I’m still trembling.”

He smirks, a naughty glint in his eyes. “Who said anything about you riding me? I can fuck you just as good, just lay back and let me take care of you.”

The promise in his words makes you clench, and you nod, eager to feel him inside you. He positions himself between your legs, his cock hard and ready. As he lines himself up with your entrance, you can’t help but gasp at the sight of his size.

When he finally pushes inside you, the stretch is both breathless and blissful. His cock fills you completely, the sensation intensified by how wet you are. Your body welcomes him, and he slides in easily, the friction making you moan loudly.

“Oh god, Seungcheol, just like that!” you breathe out, your hands gripping his shoulders.

He lowers his head, his lips brushing against your neck as he begins to move. His kisses are surprisingly sweet for the roughness of his thrusts, and you find the contrast and incredibly hot.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he moans, his thrusts becoming more urgent. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more and more.

“Fuck me like you mean it.” you grit through your teeth.

Seungcheol’s eyes blacken, and he grips your hips, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. You cry out, your head falling back against the pillow, your body jiggling with each strong movement.

“I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name,” he promises, and you know he means it.

His thrusts become relentless, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you, your eyes watering. Your moans turn into cries, your mind going blank with pleasure. You can feel your orgasm approaching, and you cling to him, needing him closer.

“Seungcheol, I’m gonna—”

The sudden sound of Seungcheol’s phone ringing startles both of you. “Fuck... no,” he mutters, pulling out of you reluctantly. You almost swallow a sob, your orgasm fading away.

"Answer it," you tell him, your voice steady despite your frustration.

He looks at the caller ID, his face contorting in disgust. "Minji," he says, showing the screen to you. You wave your hand, signaling for him to answer. He does, putting the call on speaker. The fact that he's not hiding it, that he wants you to hear, that he doesn't have a problem with it, is unexpectedly hot.

“Seungcheol?” You roll your eyes at her voice.

“Yeah?” he replies, his tone short and uninterested.

“I... I wanted to talk. Can we meet up?” she asks, her voice faltering.

You sit up silently, your mind racing. Seungcheol answers her shortly, clearly wanting to hang up. As he talks, you get an idea. You crawl over to him, your eyes locked on his as you straddle his lap, your breasts pressing against his face.

He looks up at you, confused.

“What are you doing?” he whispers, his breath hitching.

“Seungcheol, are you listening to me?” Minji’s voice is impatient, and he can't answer.

You just smile, grabbing his cock and sliding it back inside you as his face contorts in silence, jaw slack as he looks inside your eyes. He bites his lip, trying to stifle a moan as you begin to move, slowly at first, then faster, circling your hips around him.

“Seungcheol? Are you there?” She asks, sounding more desperate now.

He tries to answer, but you start moving, slowly at first, then picking up the pace.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he replies, his voice strained. He places a hand on your hip, trying to steady you as you ride him.

“What are you doing?” her voice cuts through the tension, suspicion clear.

You moan slyly, loudly, not even needing to force it. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you purr, the sound sending a cold lick down his spine. He can't help but moan too, his resolve breaking.

Minji’s voice rises in panic. “Seungcheol, what’s going on? Who’s there with you?”

He can’t help but moan too, gripping your hips tighter. “Don’t talk to me anymore, Minji,” he says, his voice strained with pleasure.

“What the hell is happening? Who is that?!” She's furious.

Seungcheol’s hands grip your hips, his body shuddering with each thrust. “Y/N... I can’t...”

“Just a little more,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss his neck. “Let her hear how good I make you feel.”

He groans, unable to hold back any longer. “Minji, I’m fucking done with you,” he says, his voice shaking. “Don’t call me again!”

You moan again, louder this time, and Seungcheol echoes your sound, his head falling back.

The call disconnects abruptly, but you don’t stop.

You ride him harder, feeling him throb inside you, his body tensing as he reaches his peak.

“Y/N, I’m gonna—” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss, swallowing his moans as he comes, his release sending you over the edge as well.

Seungcheol throws the phone aside with a decisive flick of his wrist, his focus entirely on you now—not that he stopped, his mind was imploring for you every second.

He grips your hips firmly, handling you on his lap with a possessive, almost primal passion, like you’re a fucking doll. The strength of his arms moving you on his lap, makes you gasp, and you abruptly pull away from the kiss, your hand flying to your mouth in a futile attempt to suppress your scream.

It doesn’t work.

The sound that escapes you is raw and unfiltered—a high-pitched scream that echoes off the walls of the dorm room. You’re cumming all over his cock, your cum spilling over onto his balls and pelvis, the wetness spreading in a deliciously messy explosion.

Seungcheol’s grip tightens, his breathing ragged as he feels the lock of your orgasm. He’s fighting his own demons to keep his eyes open, the pleasure so harsh that it’s almost too much to endure. His eyes are locked on yours, and you see the struggle written all over his face.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groans, his voice wasted with overstimulation. His moves become more desperate, desperate to feel every inch of you.

Your body shakes uncontrollably, every muscle tensed as you fight to keep your eyes open, to stay grounded in the moment. You feel the room spinning, the pleasure so intense that it’s almost blinding. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you struggle to stay upright.

You collapse against Seungcheol. He pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a protective, almost desperate grip. Despite his own wavering strength, his desire to hold and shield you is real, overshadowing any fatigue he might be feeling.

With the last of your strength, you gently pull his cock out of you, your movements sluggish. You remain close, still wrapped around him, feeling the warmth and softness of his body against yours. The sensation of his cock slipping free leaves a trail of dampness between you, your orgasms dripping onto his pelvis and the sheets beneath you.

Seungcheol shudders as he feels the wetness spreading across his skin. The soaked feeling on his pelvis, combined with the aftershocks of your orgasm, makes him groan softly. His hands are still firmly clasped around you, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we just did that while Minji was on the phone.”

You chuckle softly, your exhaustion making your laugh feel weak but genuine.

Seungcheol lets out a rueful laugh. “I was trying so hard to keep it together while she was talking, and here you are, riding me like there’s no tomorrow.”

You raise an eyebrow playfully. “So, what did she hear exactly? Did she get the full experience or just a taste?”

Seungcheol grins, his cheeks flushing a bit. “Oh, she heard more than a taste. I was trying to get her off the line quickly, but with you going at it like that, I think she caught on pretty fast. She definitely knew something was up.”

“And now she’s probably going to think you’re a total jerk for just hanging up on her like that.”

“To be honest, I was so caught up in how good you were making me feel that I couldn’t even process what she was saying. All I could think about was you.”

The next morning is a whirlwind of frantic activity and poorly disguised attempts to cover up the previous night's larks. As you glance in the mirror, you notice the indicative signs of sex: red, blossoming hickeys on your neck that stubbornly refuse to be concealed. You grab your concealer and try your best to dab and blend, but the more you work, the more obvious it seems.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, is in an equally frantic state. He’s darting around his dorm room, desperately scrubbing away any remaining proof of the night before. He’s juggling a toothbrush in his mouth while trying to hide the hickeys with his hoodie. He eventually settles on a high-collared shirt that looks formal and slightly out of place for a morning class, but it gets the job done.

You rush out of your dorm, barely managing to grab your things before heading to your first class. The entire way there, you catch glimpses of yourself in shop windows and mirrors, each time cringing at how you might still look too happy, too satisfied.

Seungcheol is nearly out of breath by the time he arrives at the hallways, his face flushed—not entirely from exertion, you suspect.

“Did you manage to get rid of all the hickeys?” Seungcheol whispers walking on your side suddenly, as he tries to adjust his collar without drawing too much attention.

“Not even close,” you reply with a wry smile. “I’m basically wearing a turtleneck now, but it’s not foolproof.”

He laughs, a bit too loudly given the circumstances. “Well, at least we look like we’re going somewhere fancy. If anyone asks, just say it’s a new fashion statement.”

You snicker, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s going to work. I’m just hoping people don’t look too closely.”

As you both ascend the stairs to your respective classes, the early morning hustle is almost forgotten when Seungcheol suddenly grabs your wrist, his eyes darting around to ensure no one is watching.

The empty stairwell is the perfect backdrop for his next move.

Before you can react, Seungcheol leans in and steals a quick, tender peck from your lips. The unexpected kiss surprises you, and a smile instantly lights up your face. You respond with another, slightly longer kiss.

You pull back slightly, looking at him with a playful glint in your eye. “So, what about tonight?” you ask slyly.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Huh?”

You make a theatrical gesture with your hand, tracing a path up and down to your cheek, poking your cheek with your tongue, mimicking the motion of sucking him off. Your naughty movement is clear and provocative.

Seungcheol's face flushes instantly, his eyes widening as he processes your meaning.

He bites his lip, his eyes locking onto yours with a glint of playful defiance. With a teasing smirk, he lifts his middle fingers, licking them exaggeratedly before curling them inward, making the motion unmistakably obscene.

“Something like this?” he asks, his voice sultry, his eyes never leaving yours. “Think you can handle it tonight?”

You can't help but be taken aback by Seungcheol's bold gesture, your jaw falling slack in surprise.

“Meet me at the storage room,” you murmur, urgent. “You’re going to finger me there.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen. “The storage room?” he repeats, his voice a quiet, thrilled whisper, his breath catching slightly.

He thinks then gives you a quick, eager nod, the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

“Sure thing,” he continues. “Can’t wait.”

A birthday one-shot to my cutie pie hahaha 29 years old—I'm crying n'shit. 😭🥺❤️

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pretend-i-don-t-exist · 10 days ago

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sy trying to create a pidw au would be so funny

i feel like he'd actually commit to it to spite airplane. at first, it garnered attention bc it was from the peerless cucumber, notorious critic and biggest pidw hater, so ofc they're all curious how pidw would look like in his eyes. it was surprisingly (well not really, considering the tens of paragraphs peerless cucumber wrote during his rants, all of which have immaculate grammar and spelling— bc ofc he can't let anyone find something to nitpick on his review so they're forced to see the point!) well-written and definitely more plot-focused.

majority of the readers disappeared after the first few chapters, mainly because of the lack of smutty scenes, but those that do remain are very engaged. one of them is airplane's burner account, when he needs to separate himself from his airplane persona. he's really, really curious as to what his hater is doing to his work.

he... he actually likes it. it's not really the novel he envisioned when he was first working on pidw, nor does it contain all the elements of his original draft, but it was good. he likes it a lot better than what pidw turned out to be.

airplane spent so much time contemplating and considering before finally saying fuck it, and dms peerless cucumber to see if he can work as a co-author with him and they can rewrite pidw together. he even sends parts of the original draft (what was left of it, anyway) as incentive!

it takes a long week before even peerless cucumber replies, and by then he has written a novella detailing how much better the original draft was and him screaming very informally at why airplane had to cast it aside.

lol i need money bro im broke af and porn sells, airplane answers.

it takes another week before peerless cucumber finally answers. then live with me, his message reads. no rent. i'll pay for whatever food you want. and whatever bills you have. just write a good fucking novel, i swear to god.

airplane thinks it's a joke, until he receives the address. an actual penthouse. in the richest streets of guangzhou. there is also a request to meet up (seeing as they don't actually know each other, and sy's brothers are very intent on not getting him murdered in his sleep) and airplane, after much, much thinking, accepts.

airplane does not really know what to feel when he finally meets and talks to shen yuan— pampered third son of a very wealthy family, with two protective older brothers and an even more protective little sister— and sy is just. well. he's exactly airplane's type. the beautiful, ice prince who apparently has only shown this much emotion around airplane. sy's meimei had told him cheerfully and then threatened to gut him if he so much as steps a foot out of line. airplane is starting to feel like he's just met a mafia family.

shen yuan's family aside, airplane is actually living his best life. he no longer has to worry about money. he lives in a luxurious (gods he has never seen such a large bedroom before wtf) penthouse without needing to pay rent (!!!) and utilities (!!!) and even food (!!!). he can write as much as he wants. this must be what artists felt like when they're taken care of noble families in exchange for their art.

he does... well. he and peerless cucumber are friends now. they work on the rewrite together. airplane keeps finding out many things, like how shen yuan likes his tea with a lot of honey, dislikes milk chocolate, and prefers drawing over writing. he also runs hot during the night, when he sleeps.

how does airplane know that? well. bros gotta do what bros gotta do. it's a good thing they both like to cuddle.

#svsss #shen yuan #shang qinghua #cumplane #sqh: if i write another novel will you still sponsor me #sy: what's the plot #sqh: hot sassy demonic cultivator who uses a flute to beat up his enemies partners with a hot immaculate ice prince who is devoted to him #sqh: oh and there is a donkey #sy: sold.#sqh: the donkey was the selling point for you???#sy who wants to live with sqh indefinitely bc he horrifyingly actually likes sqh as a 'friend': uh-huh

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lemonlover1110 · 9 months ago

Text

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Actor!Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Warnings: MDNI!, smut, oral sex (m. receiving), spitting, vaginal sex, creampie, angst, family fluff, toji has like 50 kids (4) and tries to be a good dad

Summary: Toji's selfishness is getting in the way of your family. When he notices that your family is slowly falling apart, he does what he can to hold it together.

*Actually a long oneshot! for @ayyy-pee's collab

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

��ACTOR TOJI FUSHIGURO SPOTTED GETTING A LITTLE TOO COZY WITH NEW CO-STAR”

The headlines are everywhere, it’s nearly impossible for you to ignore them. It’s not only the headlines but the pictures, the videos, the talk shows, the clear chemistry between them– And if that isn’t enough, the messages and calls you receive asking if you’re okay, are driving you insane. You don’t know how much more you can take of this.

Toji wanted to venture out of his usual villain role, wanting to do something more lighthearted, more fun. Whenever he’d audition for anything where he wasn’t the bad guy, he would get a simple answer: you’re not the guy we’re looking for. Truth is, Toji is too intimidating and lacks the look of the perfect picture man that they’re looking to cast in romcoms. You aren’t going to lie and say that you were bothered by this, because in fact, you were glad he wasn’t.

As selfish as it sounds, you were happy with the fact that Toji was getting stuck in the same villain roles. He’s already famous enough, and you have more than enough money, he doesn’t really need the lead role since it means that he’ll spend even more time away from his family. But you lie to yourself because if he got the lead in any other movie, you’d be ecstatic for him.

The dreaded day came, and Toji got a call from his agent. An offer for a lead role in a new and upcoming romcom. It was hard for you to be happy for him, even though your husband was so excited to venture out of his usual character. ‘He’s going to kiss someone else’ was the first thought that came into your mind, and then you realized that movies nowadays are so much more explicit than just a kiss.

Toji wasn’t supposed to, but he told you about a couple of things in the movie. He was so excited, and he couldn’t keep a thing from his wife. He told you of the characters, the plot, the scenes he was most excited about and the scenes he was worried about– The steamy scenes where Toji will be stripped to nothing with his tongue down another woman’s throat.

Jealousy would consume you for the next months, realizing that your husband is going to pretend to be with some other woman; however, you can’t be too mad, since it’s all just happening in front of a camera. You’re the only woman Toji loves, you know so. You shouldn’t take this too seriously.

Until the relationship came off the cameras because the pair has undeniable chemistry, and the directors thought that hinting they were having an affair would make for great promo. You nearly begged Toji not to do it, but he didn’t listen. He wants to ensure the movie’s success, which you understand but it’s humiliating for you and your family.

You’re upset with him, and Toji knows this, but he’s allowed to be selfish. He’s wanted this, and he’ll do just about anything to make sure everything goes smoothly, he can risk having you mad at him for a few months. Although, he’ll admit that it sucks because you’re so cold with him.

“How about we take the kids and go out for dinner tonight?” Toji asks, watching as you get out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel. He wants to go on a date with just the two of you, but he also misses his kids. It doesn’t matter what Toji suggests either way, because you ignore him. He clears his throat, repeating, “How about we go out for dinner?”

“Huh?” You respond, acting as if you hadn’t heard him before, and Toji doesn’t know whether to laugh or roll his eyes. Toji repeats the question a third time and you proceed to answer, “I’m going out tonight, I can’t.”

“What are you and the kids doing?” Toji questions, wondering why he wasn’t invited. He guesses he knows why, but you should’ve at least tried to make the effort since it involves your kids.

“I’m going out, the kids are staying with the nanny.” You tell him, which makes his eyebrows perk up. Toji stands up from the bed, walking over to you. He hugs you from behind, planting a kiss on your shoulder.

“How about we–” He begins but you proceed to cut him off before he can even finish his sentence.

“I’m going out with friends. Without you.” You answer, removing Toji’s arms from your waist. You walk to the closet to find your outfit for the night, and Toji can’t seem to leave you alone, following behind you like a lost puppy.

“You don’t have to be so cold.” He argues, and you pay no attention to him. You were clear that you didn’t want this to go this far, yet he let it happen. You can be as mad as you want to be with him. “What are you planning to do anyway? Cause a scandal to get back at me?”

“I’m allowed to have fun, am I not, Toji?” You respond. You simply want to go out without thinking of your husband and all the embarrassment his job is bringing. If it causes a scandal, then so be it.

“Then why are you so set on going alone?” He replies, and you scoff. You can’t believe the audacity.

“I just want to be away from you because you humiliate me.” You finally look at him, shooting him a glare. It shouldn’t hurt because he’s caused his own problems, but it still hurts to hear that from his wife, “I was upset about the movie, sure, but I knew you wanted to do it so I bit my tongue. This publicity stunt is too far, and I told you not to do it over and over again, but you did it. Fine. You’re an adult.”

“And? You know it’s not real.” He argues, which only ticks you off more. You won’t raise your voice because your children are wide awake, and you don’t want them to hear as you yell at their father.

“Do you know how many pity messages I’ve gotten? The amount of calls? I’m just the poor victim to all of them, and also the stupid woman that won’t leave her husband.” You respond, and he opens his mouth to argue that it’ll be over soon. In a couple of months the truth will come to light and everything will go back to normal. “The kids are getting teased about it too. Megumi is old enough to know it’s a stunt, but the other three aren’t.”

“What do you mean the two year old and five year old are also affected by this?” He questions in a mocking tone, which tells you that he isn’t fully believing you. You feel your blood boil, and you take a deep breath to keep yourself calm. You’re not letting him get the best of you.

“Well, considering that the ten year old can’t keep his mouth shut and tells the other two that mommy and daddy are getting a divorce, I’d say yes, they are affected by this.” You try to remain stoic, keeping your voice low and calm. Toji bites down his lip, his eyes going wide at the realization that his ten year old refusing to talk to him wasn’t just a simple tantrum. “I tried to tell him that everything is fine between us, but he didn’t exactly believe me.”

“Is that why they’re refusing to talk to me?” Toji’s demeanor changes, becoming somber in a matter of seconds. You end up shrugging, not really knowing why your son is acting the way he is, but you can only assume it’s because of it.

“I’m not sure. Probably.” You don’t care to really find a solution to his problems since you’re upset with him too. He needs to realize that his actions not only affect him but also his family. You watch as the man walks over to the bed to take a seat and think of what to do with this new piece of information. And while you’re mad at him, you still love him and want to help him out one way or another. You focus on getting yourself ready while you tell him, “How about you take them out tonight? Explain to them that everything is fine between us and–”

“Will you come with us?” He interrupts you, making you click your tongue.

“I’m going out, you can deal with the issues that you’ve caused, alone.” You answer, and Toji furrows his eyebrows. He knows that he can’t exactly be too mad at you because you’re right, he caused his own problems. “Take them somewhere to eat, watch a movie with them, play with them. I don’t know. I’m laying it all out for you, Toji. You can decide what’s best.”

“What about you?” He asks, and you don’t even care to entertain him, sitting in front of your vanity to do your makeup. Toji has to repeat himself, and you sigh.

“Figure it out.”

“Ryo, are you ready?!” Toji yells down the hallway, but his ten-year-old doesn’t answer. Toji simply goes ignored, and the man tries to remain calm. Getting mad isn’t going to do him any good, yelling angrily at his son isn’t going to make Ryo any less mad.

You left around thirty minutes ago, and Toji spent the entire time trying to convince you to stay; however, his efforts were in vain. You didn’t care enough to listen which shouldn’t really shock him, he’s still upset though. After you left, he began getting his daughters ready to go out, telling his sons to put on something comfortable since they’re going out to dinner.

Now that both of his girls are ready, he’s simply waiting on his sons. Toji knows that Megumi is somewhat ready, but he isn’t sure about Ryo.

“Aimi, baby, can you wait downstairs while I check on your brother?” Toji asks his five-year-old, and she nods in response. Toji has to talk to his son alone, but he can’t do so with the two-year-old that’s on his hip. He knows that Aimi isn’t going to cause any trouble, but the little one that he holds is either going to get hurt or cause a big mess. He’s dismissed the nanny, and he can’t exactly leave her alone with Aimi.

Before making his way to Ryo’s room, Toji walks over to Megumi’s door. He harshly knocks on the door and puts Emi down in front of it, as if Toji were the stork himself. Emi is about to run after her papa but Megumi opens the door, and she squeals when she sees her beloved older brother.

“What?!” Megumi yells down the hallway when he spots his father. Megumi picks up Emi from the floor, ensuring that she doesn’t run away.

“I’m going to talk to Ryo! Make sure she doesn’t get hurt!” Toji responds, and Megumi sighs. Not that he particularly minds, but Toji could’ve at the very least waited until Megumi had her in his arms. Megumi clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment before telling his sister,

“What are we going to do with him?” And she shrugs in response.

“I don’t know.” She answers, which makes Megumi laugh. He walks out of the room and goes downstairs to join his other sister.

Toji stands in front of Ryo’s door. He knocks but he’s met with no response. Toji isn’t willing to respect his kids’ privacy, not when he pays for everything they have. Toji opens the door to the room, finding Ryo in his pajamas, playing with his console. Perhaps this would be the perfect time to have a heart-to-heart with his son, explain everything that’s going on– But would Toji really think of that right away?

“Change. We’re going out.” It’s an order, and Ryo doesn’t like it. He’s about to ignore Toji but Toji snatches the console that’s in the boy’s hands. “Don’t act like a fucking brat. Change. We’ve taught you better.”

“I’m staying with mom.” Ryo mutters, angrily getting out of bed to do as his father says. Toji won’t lie and say that the words don’t hurt him, but he remains stoic.

“Hurry up. Your siblings are waiting.” Toji says before leaving the room, the console in his hand. He has to hide it before leaving.

“No more.” Emi pushes her plate away after taking a few bites of the food she ordered. She’s barely eaten, Toji wants to make sure that at the very least she finishes a chicken tender.

“Can you at least finish this, please? You’ve barely eaten, princess.” Toji asks her, but she shakes her head. Toji has to find a way to bribe her, but first he has to deal with Megumi and Aimi who bicker about… Something.

“Chew with your mouth closed, don’t be gross.” Megumi corrects her, but Aimi isn’t going to listen to someone who isn’t her mother… Occasionally she listens to Toji, but it’s rare.

“I don’t care!” She yells, and Toji’s face slowly gets red with embarrassment. People are slowly looking at the table– It’s funny because he really thought that having Megumi here would be useful. Instead, he’s yelling back and forth with his five-year-old sister.

“You’re nasty, Aimi!”

“Your face is nasty!”

“Will you two quiet down?!” Toji half yells. His eyes linger on Megumi, “Remind me how old you are.”

“Sixteen.” Megumi answers, reality setting in when he says his age. His cheeks slowly turn pink as he waits for his father to say his next sentence.

“And you’re arguing with a five-year-old? Loudly, in a restaurant, dare I add.” Toji says, and Megumi pushes his plate away because he’s suddenly lost his appetite. Toji hadn’t realized just how hard it was to deal with all four kids without any help– Well, three kids since Ryo isn’t talking. He’s not doing anything. Toji clears his throat before asking, “Do you like the food, Ryo?”

Ryo doesn’t answer, and it’s slowly driving Toji to his limit. He’s talking to everybody but Toji, the moment Toji addresses him, he goes silent. Toji looks at Megumi and points at Emi, “Get your sister to eat.”

“Ryo, talk to me. Your mom and I are fine.” Toji claims, but Ryo doesn’t say anything because things clearly aren’t fine– After all, everyone is talking about it. Toji is essentially ruining the family by running off with his co-star.

“Ryo, do you want my leftovers?” Aimi asks her big brother and he hums in response, taking the plate from her. Toji takes a deep breath to remain calm. Ryo technically didn’t even say a word, he just hummed in response, Toji can’t be mad about that. Then Aimi asks, “Do you think daddy will get dessert? I think they have ice cream.”

“The key lime pie is better, plus we have ice cream at home.” Ryo argues and Toji gets an idea on how to get his son to talk to him.

“Do you really want the key lime pie? I thought you liked cheesecake better.” Toji comments, and Ryo doesn’t answer. He proceeds to talk to his little sister, and Toji can’t take it. He slams his hand on the table and causes a scene, “For fuck’s sake, Ryo! Don’t ignore me!”

If all eyes weren’t on them before, they definitely are now. The cherry on top is Megumi who tells Emi, “See, he’s going to do that to you if you don’t finish what’s on your plate.”

Emi begins to cry her little heart out, and Toji lets out the biggest sigh. Curse the day he decided to have kids.

“I’m not going to do anything to you, Emi.” Toji says, but she’s crying and stuffing her face out of fear. Everyone is looking at him, some people surely recognize him. At least this fits the narrative that his family is falling apart, and while it was all a stunt at first, it’s starting to feel real.

It’s his fault, he can’t blame anyone else but himself.

“Finish up, we’re going home.” Toji sounds defeated, and he is. Taking the kids out to dinner should not be this hard.

“What about dessert?” Aimi’s voice is filled with disappointment.

“Dessert isn’t happening because you kids don’t know how to behave.” Toji answers, and Aimi crosses her arms, a pout on her lips. Toji wanted to make things better with his kids, but unknowingly, he’s made them worse.

“Night, night, princess.” Toji kisses Aimi’s forehead, but she doesn’t care to even acknowledge him. She doesn’t say anything, turning to her side so she doesn’t have to look at him. Toji sighs, “You’re ignoring me too, huh?”

She doesn’t say anything, which doesn’t really upset Toji. She’s just mad that she didn’t get dessert, tomorrow she’ll be fine with him again. He kisses her temple before telling her, “I love you.”

He knows waiting for an answer is useless, so he turns off the lamp and walks out of the door. Aimi will eventually get out of bed and run after him to apologize because she feels bad since she loves her daddy so much.

Toji closes the door, and he looks for Ryo’s console. Once the console is in his hand, Toji goes to his son’s room. Toji doesn’t bother knocking because he knows he won’t get a response. Ryo has the lights turned off, trying to sleep since there’s nothing better for him to do. But Toji knows that the child isn’t sleeping, he’s just like you, he tosses and turns a million times in the night before actually succumbing to slumber.

“Here’s the console, kiddo. Thanks for going out with us tonight.” Toji says, putting the console on Ryo’s dresser before walking over to his side to press a kiss on Ryo’s temple. Toji hears some sniffling coming from his son, which makes the man want to fall to his knees and cry as well.

Toji has four kids, he’s heard them cry many times before for trivial things. He’s never really felt this before with one of them because he really wasn’t at fault. He was doing things for their own good… But this time he’s doing all of this for his own selfish reasons.

“My baby boy, please talk to me.” Toji kneels down by the bed, hoping that his son will finally say something to him. It’s killing him slowly, he just wants to talk to him. Toji doesn’t want his kid to hate him, but it feels like Ryo is slowly getting there.

“I don’t want you and mommy to get a divorce.” Ryo finally speaks up, and Toji’s heart breaks when he hears him call you mommy, considering Ryo started calling you mom the day he turned eight. Toji stops kneeling, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Everything is fine between me and your mommy.” Toji says although it’s hard to believe. They’re not fine, but you’re not getting a divorce either. “We just have to talk things out, but we’re not getting a divorce.”

“All of my friends are talking about you and how you two will end up splitting.” Ryo finally sits up on the bed, and Toji doesn’t really understand why this is even a topic of conversation for Ryo’s friends, but it is and Toji has to deal with it. “And it’s your fault.”

It is, Toji can’t really say otherwise. But he isn’t splitting up the family– At least not by having an affair like the news claim.

“Ryo, I promise you that your mom and I are not splitting up.” Toji tries to reassure his son, but Toji isn’t all too sure himself. “We are having some issues, but it’s not because of what your friends are telling you. What they’re telling you is not real.”

“But–” He’s about to keep going but Toji has to cut him off. Toji can’t keep defending himself, he keeps using the same argument over and over again and he doesn’t know how many times he can actually say the same words.

“Did you ask your mommy about this?” Toji asks, and his son nods in response. Ryo has asked a million times and you always have the same answer.

“Yeah… She said that you two were okay.” He replies, yet he doesn’t believe a single word of it. Toji is growing frustrated, but he can’t let it show. His whole job is to pretend to be someone else, to act out certain feelings and suppress the actual emotions that run through his body, he should be able to do that, right?

“Then why don’t you believe us? Your friends don’t know what’s happening in our relationship.” Toji points out, but that’s not enough for Ryo.

“I know mommy was lying.”

“What do you mean? Did she tell you she was lying?” Toji’s confused. Ryo is ten, he’s not smart enough to spot a lie, especially from you. You’re a damn good actress, when you show your emotions it’s on purpose, and Toji doubts you were purposely showing your emotions.

“I was going to ask her something and I saw her crying…” Ryo confesses, and Toji furrows his eyebrows. He’s certainly hasn’t heard that, but Toji clears his throat before arguing,

“You do know that your mom has a completely different life and she could’ve been crying for something that doesn’t involve me, right?” Toji is sure that the crying had to do with him, but he isn’t going to let that be known. Ryo nods in response, since what his father says does make sense. Toji ruffles his son’s hair before kissing his forehead, “Next time you’re mad at me, don’t give me the silent treatment.”

“I won’t.” Ryo answers, although neither of them are too sure that he’ll keep up with his word. Toji stands up and gives the gaming console to his son, and Ryo wastes no time in taking it.

“You can stay up late tonight.” Toji tells him, which puts a smile on his face. Toji also walks away with a smile on his lips, feeling victorious after getting his son to talk to him. Toji exits the room, gently shutting the door behind him.

Toji begins his walk to Megumi’s room, planning to check up on him. However, when his hand touches the doorknob, he feels a pair of tiny arms wrap around his leg. He looks down to find his five-year-old hugging him. He chuckles, “What’s up, Aimi?”

“Papa, I’m sorry. I love you too.” Tears are streaming down her face, feeling guilty about not telling her daddy that she loves him back. Toji picks her up from the ground, wiping her tears away and kissing her cheek.

“My little princess, I’ll get you some ice cream tomorrow.” He assures her, rubbing her back. She continues to wipe her tears because once they begin, they’re hard to stop. He takes her back to her room, reads her a story and puts her to bed once again.

Toji continues what he was doing, checking up on his kids before going to bed himself. He waits for you, but it gets late. His eyes are closing on their own and before he knows it, he falls asleep. He’s getting old.

“Toji, baby–” You’re calling out to him. It takes a moment for him to open his eyes, but they open rapidly when he feels you kissing his cheeks. It’s definitely nice to feel you kissing him after barely acknowledging him the last couple of days. Still, he can’t help but question,

“Are you drunk?” You keep kissing him. He doesn’t smell any alcohol on your breath, but that doesn’t really answer anything. He feels your hand go down his torso to his sweatpants. You’re just incredibly horny, that’s a good enough reason. Your hand goes to his sweatpants, wrapping around the base of his cock before lazily stroking it. “What happened to you? What have you done to my wife?”

“I just need you. Need you so bad.” You say in between kisses. Your lips are on his neck, and Toji really can’t complain. He misses your touch so much– But what the hell happened to you? You were barely talking to him a couple of hours ago; either you’re on something or something happened to you.

“What happened, baby?” He stops you. Your hand comes out of his hands and you get on top of him. Your lips go on his, your tongue quickly entering his mouth and pressing against his. You’re avoiding the answer, and Toji grows worried. You’re grinding on him, and it’s hard for him to have a clear mind when all the blood rushes to his dick. He doesn’t remember the last time he touched you. You’ve been so mad at him that you shut him down the moment that he initiates something.

Toji wants to enjoy it, and his body is but his mind thinks about the fact that nothing has been solved. He’s not done anything to apologize to you, so he immediately thinks that you’ve done something. It takes every bit of him to push you away even though he doesn’t want to. You’re so gorgeous while you’re on top of him like this, that he doesn’t want to ask the question but he has to, “What did you do?”

“What do you mean what did I do?” You furrow your brows, and Toji clicks his tongue. He can’t believe that you’re initiating something and he’s stopping it. One week ago he would’ve been beating himself up for passing up on this opportunity, but he has to know why you changed your mind.

“You’ve been mad at me, and now you’re all over me when I haven’t apologized.” Toji points out, and you suck in your bottom lip between your teeth. That confirms that you’ve done something bad, and his heart beat speeds up, thinking of the worst.

“I met a guy…” You begin and Toji’s heart breaks. He doesn’t need to hear the rest of it because he knows. Tears well up in his eyes and he tries to take a deep breath. Yeah, he knew his actions would have consequences but not this. “We flirted a bit, just having fun and then he invited me back to his place–”

“You don’t have to–” Toji is about to cut you off, and he’s reasonably thinking the worst.

“I didn’t go back with him. I remembered the amazing husband I have, how much I love him, how amazing he is at everything he does. I wasn’t going to risk losing you even though I’m mad at you.” You have to interrupt him before he gets into his head. You press a subtle kiss on his jaw before your lips go to his ear, “But if you see some headlines tomorrow, don’t get mad at me.”

“You scared the shit out of me.” He chuckles. He guesses he’s getting a taste of his own medicine, but he’s not mad after his initial scare. Your lips go back on his, but they don’t last long before moving down his neck and torso. Your mouth kisses to his nipple, your tongue circling around it which makes him bite down his lip.

Toji is sensitive. Just about anything will make him cum. You continue to kiss down his body until his sweatpants obstruct your path. You desperately push them down, while Toji reaches for the lamp to turn it on. He has a particular love for watching you while you take care of him.

Your hand wraps around the base while you spit on his cock. You stroke his cock a couple of times before your tongue circles the tip of his cock. You take your time working him up before you lower your mouth on his cock, taking in as much as you can take.

If Toji had known that this is how his night would’ve ended by letting you go out, he wouldn’t have tried to talk you out of it. A pathetic moan leaves his lips, feeling your warm mouth wrapped around him. He’s missed this, fuck.

He wants to push your head down, forcing you to take all of him– Which he normally does, but it’s not going to end well. Toji knows well that you’ll stop, and he won’t risk that tonight. This is a sweet treat that he doesn’t deserve, he’s not going to risk losing it.

You try to take all of him in your mouth either way, tears building up in your eyes as you gag, eventually spilling and messing up the makeup that was already coming apart. This is what Toji loves, watching the makeup that you work so hard on, fall apart just for him. And you do it because you want to. Because you love the taste of him on your tongue.

You take him out of your mouth, using your hand to stroke his cock. Toji’s moaning with your every touch, it’s hard not to. You’re just so fucking perfect with everything you do that it’s hard for him to contain himself.

“Baby, please–” He sounds so pathetic. Toji is usually much meaner in this situation, but circumstances have obviously changed. He just wants to feel your mouth wrapped around his cock. “Use your mouth, baby. Please–”

“How can I say no to you?” You chuckle before your mouth wraps around his cock again. You take as much as you can take, your hand stroking what your mouth can’t reach. He’s shutting his eyes, moaning your name as his climax approaches.

His cum hits the back of your throat, and you raise your head. You swallow it, sticking your tongue out so he can check it. Toji sits up, his hand going down to your chin, thumb into your mouth. The bit of submissiveness that you had witnessed quickly fades.

“Who’s my good girl?” He asks, your tongue circling around his thumb. He wants to know what happened that has you so aroused, but as long as you didn’t get physical, he doesn’t care. He takes his thumb out, a string of your saliva connecting it to your lips. He orders, “Open your mouth.”

As soon as your mouth opens, he spits in it. You don’t waste a second before swallowing. Toji lips meet yours again, his tongue messily entering your mouth and pressing against yours. You readjust your legs, knees on either side of him. You’re grinding on him again, and the man pulls away from the kiss, not doing so without biting your lip first.

“You want me to fuck you, baby? You need me?” He asks as you push your panties to the side. You’re aligning him with your entrance, softly moaning as you push yourself down on him. You can’t wait any longer, you desperately need him. You softly moan as he fills you up, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. You’re sure no one will ever feel as good as Toji.

“Was thinking so much about you, baby. I missed you, Toji.” You moan, throwing your head back. You give yourself a moment to get adjusted to him before moving back and forth on his cock. His cock brushes your sweet spot, driving you insane.

Toji shuts his eyes, getting lost in the moment. He’s missed you so much too, but he can’t speak right now because he’s groaning. He can’t believe that he’s gone so long without you… He shouldn’t have agreed to doing that publicity stunt in the first place.

“You feel so fucking good, baby.” Toji moans, his hands going to your hips as you move on him. He hands roam, looking for the zipper of your dress, pulling it down so he can take your dress off you. His lips go to yours, your moans translating into his lips.

You’re bouncing on him, his lips going down to suck on your neck. You let your moans roam into the air, feeling overwhelmed with how good you’re feeling. Toji barely even tries and he makes you feel euphoric. Maybe you were having second thoughts, but then you remembered just how perfect your husband is.

Toji pulls out, putting you down on the bed. He puts your legs on his shoulders before sliding back into you. He sets the pace, much faster than how you were going. Your hands are gripping the bed sheets, loudly moaning as your husband pounds into you.

“You’re so perfect, baby. You’re everything to me.” He praises you while one hand goes to play with your clit. You’re almost at your limit, and he feels it as your cunt squeezes around him. He says through gritted teeth, “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Oh fuck, Toji– I’m gonna–” You announce, so close to reaching your peak.

“I know, baby– fuck, I know.” He groans. You’re driving him insane, it’s the effect that you have on him after not being with him for a while. God knows he needed this.

You loudly moan his name, your legs quivering when you reach your high. It’s hard for you to last when his cock reaches deep, and reaches all the right spots. Toji can’t help but praise you when you come, “That’s my good girl, that’s my fucking good girl.”

Toji’s thrusts begin to get sloppy, even though he wants to stay buried inside you for as long as he can. His hands hold on to your hips, nails digging into your soft flesh.

“Inside of me, baby, do it inside me.” You tell him, knowing he’s nearing his release. You need to feel his warmth in every possible way, and Toji isn’t going to turn you down, certainly not with this.

Toji comes to a stop, groaning before filling you up with his warm cum. He stays buried inside of you until making sure every droop is inside of you. His lips go down to yours, kissing you as he pulls out.

“I’ve missed you, love.” He says before you both get comfortable in bed. You’ll wait a minute before going to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

“For the record, I’m still mad at you.” You say before kissing his cheek, causing him to laugh. You stand up, walking to the bathroom to take a shower before going to bed, and he follows behind because he’s truly lost without you.

“You’re here late.” He points out, unsure of what to say next.

“When you don’t have the kids with you, things go surprisingly smooth… Speaking of, how was your night?” You get in the shower, and Toji is staring. He’s watching every single one of your movements, even when he tries to tear his eyes away, he can’t. You're just so perfect in every way, how can he look away?

“Why did we have so many kids? They made the night so difficult.” Toji shares, and he hears you laugh. It’s no surprise to you, you’ve handled the kids on your own so many times before, and you always swear that you won’t even think of having another one– But then Emi comes to you with her teddy bear and begs for cuddles which makes you reconsider.

“Welcome to my world.” You respond, and Toji chuckles. He lightly bites down his lip, debating if he wants to go back to bed. He really doesn’t, so he decides to join you in your shower.

“So you’re less mad?” He asks, grabbing your sponge and pouring some body wash on it. Toji kisses your shoulder before he begins lightly scrubbing your body. You hum in response, and he can only wonder what you were up to– But he can’t complain. He couldn’t care less what you were doing as long as you’re not mad at him.

“I’m still upset though, don’t get me wrong.” You say as you take the sponge from his hand and use it on him. You peck his lips before muttering, “My husband has still been misbehaving, I won’t forgive him so easily.”

Toji doesn’t know how to come back from that so easily, so he ponders his answer. He helps you clean up.

“I talked to Ryo.” Toji announces, and you cock your eyebrow. Before you can ask about the details, Toji explains everything to you, ending off his sentence with, “Why were you crying?”

“Life gets tough when your husband is allegedly cheating on you.” You answer, and Toji bites his tongue. You have said a million times how you hate this arrangement, and Toji has been too selfish to consider your emotions. It’s not like you’ve been silent about how much you hate this. He can’t exactly be too mad at the fact that you’ve been ignoring him when it’s deserved.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Is all he manages to say. You turn off the water, and get out of the shower, Toji following your lead again, even though he’s barely washed himself. You have your towel wrapped around him, while he opts out of getting his towel.

“I think you’ll need a bigger apology, but I guess sex is good too.” You answer, but that’s not enough for him.

“I’ll call my agent and tell him that it’s off.” He says, and you stop in your tracks.

“No! You’ve already done this much, the premiere is soon. Stick with it for now and just clear up your name after.” You’re quick to object. That movie better do great after all you’ve been through for this. You’ve suffered for months, you can put up with some more judgment for another month or so.

“But now I feel horrible.” He responds, and you sigh. “I want to apologize.”

You take a couple of steps toward him, your hands meeting behind his neck. You kiss his lips before telling him, “Another little Emi will suffice.”

“Woman, how dare you?! After the night I’ve had, that thought makes my dick flaccid. Don’t you ever suggest having more kids!” He argues, and you look down. His words certainly don’t match his feelings.

“Are you sure about that?” You ask him, and he sighs. He isn’t going to lie to you, and he isn’t going to tell you that you’re right, so he does the next best thing, picking you up and carrying you to the bed.

You have a long night of apologies ahead of you.

2K notes · View notes

daechwitatamic · 5 months ago

Text

cherrybomb || csc

(banner by @sailorrhansol)

cherrybomb seungcheol x afab reader || angst smut fluff || exes2lovers, pacific rim universe NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: Piloting a jaeger requires a rare ability called drifting - a neural connection with your co-pilot. You and Seungcheol are masters of the drift... until you have something in your head that you don't want him to see.

wc: 19.5k

warnings: language, heavy angst with happy ending, fight scenes, fight scenes written by an author with zero fighting or martial arts knowledge lmfao thus they are vague as possible, feelings heavy plot light and smut light, kissing and pretty generic (and brief) p in v smut

Author's note: thank you for @sailorrhansol for 1) accidentally sparking this idea, 2) agreeing to collab with me, 3) reading this along the way and hyping me up, and 4) beta-ing my mistakes, a million smooches for you ily

This fic takes place in the Pacific Rim universe but I honestly don't think you need to know the lore, everything you need to know should be explained. If you think something is unclear without prior pacific rim knowledge, shoot me a message privately and I'll make some edits and credit you for the insight!

Also in this universe: storm breaker by @/sailorhansol

Teaser:

“Marshall, with all due respect, I don’t know why you’re calling me,” you admit. “You were there. You saw what happened. Seungcheol and I can’t drift anymore.”

“You couldn’t then,” he points out. “That was three years ago. Things that were once too painful to carry into the drift… they’ve had time to mellow.”

He’s wrong, and you want to tell him so. Nothing has mellowed. You love Seungcheol just as much today as you did then.

“Have you talked to him about this?” You’re afraid of the answer.

The Marshall’s voice hardens, and you can just picture his eyes narrowing. “Mr. Choi will follow orders,” he says evenly, “and so will you. Asking is really just a courtesy.”

“You can’t order us into being able to drift again,” you snap, pulse suddenly pounding in your arms, your hands, your face, your chest.

“No,” the Marshall says, and any previous friendliness is gone from his voice now, “but I can - and will - order you to try.”

Playlist: you're the smoke in my gun, blowin' like cherry bombs...

The first time you ever saw Choi Seungcheol, he was flipping a man four years his senior over his shoulder and slamming him into the ground. Satisfied, he staggered backwards, chest heaving from exertion, eyes narrowed in preparation for the next move.

That’s what Seungcheol did - he leveled whatever was in front of him, and he started watching for what was coming next before the body could even hit the ground.

That’s what made him a great jaeger pilot. Not the brute strength - strong men are dime a dozen, always have been - but the watching.

You’d marked him as your first choice.

You were both nineteen. You’d grown up in the Shatterdome, the only child to a couple who piloted a neon green jaeger named Charron’s Revenge. You knew everything about how jaegers and their teams worked by the time you were nine. You started training to fight years before that. There was never a question that you would follow in your parents’ giant, mechanical footsteps one day. You just needed the right partner.

You needed Seungcheol.

The jaeger program didn’t turn away recruits - everyone could do something - but there was an organized process to match up compatible pilots. Applying recruits would fight before an audience of previously-accepted but currently-unmatched potential pilots. The pilots would rank the fighters, choosing their top five based on perceived potential for compatibility.

Then, the roles would switch. The applicants became the audience. The audience became the show.

When it was your turn to fight, you silently pleaded with the universe that Seungcheol would mark you high as well. This was the only guarantee that you’d get a chance to spar with him, to test it out before the Marshall, who would make the final call.

Let him see, you begged. Let him see how perfectly we’d work together.

And, by some miracle, he did. In fact, he rated you first, as well.

Your sparring match went exactly how you expected - he barreled at you, and you dodged every move. He could easily take you out with a single blow, but he couldn’t get his hands on you, not when you used his own inertia against him at every turn. What you didn’t expect was your own inability to land a shot. For the whole fight, you were unable to move out of the defensive - keeping out of his reach took all of your effort.

It was a draw - the first sign of strong compatibility.

You didn’t talk after the match - your father whisked you away to recover before your second-rated match, and you didn’t see Seungcheol for the rest of the day.

The second-rated match was a dud. But you already knew, even then, that it didn’t matter.

You’d met your co-pilot. You’d found your partner.

—

He found you in the mess hall that night, dropping into an empty spot on the other side of the table, his tray in his hands. His black hair was loose and wavy, and his right arm sported a sizeable bruise that he definitely didn’t get from you.

“I know who you are,” he said by way of greeting. You raised a brow at him, waiting. “Your parents piloted Charron’s Revenge.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “That better not be why you picked me.”

He gave his head an annoyed little flick. “Of course not. I picked you because you’re fluid - and I’m not.”

Appeased, you felt your hackles settle back down. “That’s true,” you allowed. “You’re not fluid. But you’re purposeful, and-”

You were interrupted when Yoon Jeonghan dropped into the seat to your left, chuckling under his breath as he fixed his long, dark hair into a spiky ponytail at the back of his head.

“Cherry, did you hear?” he asked you, ignoring the new-comer. “The crew for Fatal Rapids got called back in for misconduct.”

“Choi Seungcheol, Yoon Jeonghan,” you said, introducing the two young men. “Hannie does more than gossip, I promise. He’s one of the pilots for Devil’s Advocates. Their drop stats are insane.”

“In practice only,” Jeonghan demurred. “For now.”

“Cherry?” Seungcheol parroted, raising a dark brow. “That’s not what I wrote on my paper earlier.”

“Just a nickname,” you explained. When you were very small, you’d struggled with the name of your parents’ jaeger, calling it Cherry’s Revenge instead of Charron’s, and the crew - who doted on you like their own - started the habit of calling you Cherry. Somehow, it had spread, and stuck. “Only my parents use my real name. But you can call me whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“No,” he said, frowning as if deeply considering his options. “I like it.”

You folded your arms on the table, leaning in to peer at Seungcheol. “So, what’s your story? You’ve heard of me. I haven’t heard of you.”

He shrugged, glanced around, then decided he could talk freely. There’s something about being in a room that’s positively teeming with people and conversation - it gives you privacy without feeling too intimate. You’re not alone.

“Not much of a story, not like you,” he admitted. “I grew up thinking I’d take over my dad’s business. We lost my dad… then, we lost the business. I have no marketable skillset, and university was out of the question. But…” He trailed off, then met your gaze firmly. Something in his look demanded you forgo any pity or sympathy, demanded you take him seriously. “I’m strong. So I came here. I came to fight.”

You sidestepped the bruises he’d bared. “Not like me,” you repeated with a bit of a scoff. “I hate to disappoint you, but my parents are the pilots - the story is theirs. I don’t have one, not yet.”

Something playful glinted in his eyes, the first true sign of personality you’d seen. “So all the rumors about the Princess of the Shatterdome aren’t true?”

Your jaw dropped. You’d heard the nickname before - it was never meant nicely. You tried to ignore it as best you could - people could think what they wanted. When you had a crew, when you had a jaeger, you’d be able to prove them wrong. “What rumors?”

“You’re spoiled,” Jeonghan supplied, having decided he was part of the conversation after all. “Entitled.”

You spluttered as Jeonghan stood, giving you a cheerful pat on the shoulder. “And bitchy! That’s just what I’ve heard. Of course I know better. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Love ya!”

You stared incredulously after him as he disappeared, your face burning with embarrassment and your heart hammering with adrenaline. Fight, your systems told you.

If only you could.

Seungcheol bit back a smile, reaching out to pat your arm placatingly.

“I don’t…” you started to say, but your voice caught in your throat. You cleared it, tried again. “I don’t think I really deserve all that.”

He nodded, lips pushed into a semblance of a thoughtful pout. “What I’d heard,” he said calmly, “is that you’re a hell of a fighter, scary smart, and that you take no shit. Unless it’s from your friends, apparently.”

This made a bitter little laugh bubble from you. You still simmered with humiliation, feared that maybe he’d decide he didn’t want to co-pilot with you after all.

“I think it’s up to you which story gets told,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “That’s what I always said. So… let’s get started.”

—

You and Seungcheol lucked out - the team that had been recalled for misconduct were terminated from their posts in the weeks following the sparring trials, and their jaeger Fatal Rapids had been disassembled, the parts up for grabs.

You and Seungcheol repurposed Rapids’s main frame, your crew working to individualize the bot to your needs as best they could. You splurged on quad-processors for her legs to allow your jaeger to keep up with how you move - quick and lithe. Seungcheol lobbied for (and won) some extra power in the top half, and you compromised and chose a mix of red and blue sections for her paintjob.

Duellona Fury, you named her. Duellona for you, the destroyer. Fury for Seungcheol, because that was where his fight came from.

You got to know Seungcheol’s fury very well. Especially when you started trying to drift.

None of it happened fast - not the building of your machine, nor your neural handshake. In fact, you didn’t pilot Duellona Fury together for a whole calendar year.

You started with physical compatibility - you sparred almost all day, every day. You fought - with each other and against each other - until all you could do was lay on the ground and pant, blinking to make the ceiling stay in focus.

Seungcheol may not have grown up training in the Shatterdome the way you did, but he kept up without complaint. You learned his way - force and strength - and he learned the way you favored - to weave and dodge.

The fighting was the easy part.

You had never drifted with someone you had true drift compatibility with. Seungcheol had never drifted at all. The Marshall wouldn’t even consider hooking the two of you up to the machine until you went through the proper training.

On the day you and Seungcheol were officially declared as co-pilots-in-training, you both stood below the half-built shell of your towering jaeger, sparks flying and drills screaming as the crew worked on her.

Your Marshall looked seriously at his new team-in-training. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll meditate together. Talk to each other. Get deep about it. If you’ve talked about it out here-” he swept an arm across the deck, “-it won’t take hold so strongly in there.” He’d jabbed a finger in the upward direction of Duellona Fury.

Seungcheol didn’t look at you, nor the Marshall. Instead, he kept his eyes on Duellona's unfinished frame, stories above you. “Yes, Sir,” he said steadily.

Your parents weren’t technically retired yet, the year you and Seungcheol started training together. Charron’s Revenge still sat in the well below the Shatterdome. They still lived on the base, still took part in daily training. They hadn’t been called into a fight in years, though; the assignments went to the younger crews.

You took dinner in their quarters instead of the mess hall, that night.

“Congratulations,” your father said warmly from across the table. “You worked hard to get here.”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling shy beneath the praise. “I hope the drift will work for me and Choi Seungcheol.”

“What do you think of him?” your mother had asked, her sharp eyes honing in on you, watching your reactions.

“I think he’s a great fighter,” you said. “The rest… I guess I’ll have to learn.”

“Do you trust him? Can you trust him out there, when the sea and the wind are trying to knock you down, and hell itself rises up from the depths?”

You swallowed. She’s right for her intensity - they will be putting their daughter’s life in her co-pilot’s hands, every time there’s a fight. You knew firsthand how terrifying it was to stand in the tech bay and wait, not knowing if your loved ones will make it back.

You thought about how you and Seungcheol fight together in the sparring rooms. You thought about how you weaved and your opponent followed your movement, only to be knocked sideways. You thought of how Seungcheol followed your motion backwards, ducked in tandem with you to avoid a hit, and how you followed his momentum forward and up to attack. Your bodies followed each other like they were magnetized. And Seungcheol was always watching for the next hit.

“Yes,” you said, so quietly that you cleared your throat and said it again. “Yes, I trust him.”

“Then we wish you luck,” your father said, and raised his glass. “To Duellona Fury.”

“To Duellona Fury,” you echoed.

On your way out of the quarters, later, you slowed as you passed the wall where they hung their accolades and awards, the newspaper clippings, photos, and medals. Before your eyes they aged - the photographs changing through the years, no longer showing a bright, fiery couple, instead displaying proof of passing time: a baby bump, then a toddler, then a child beaming alongside them as if she’d done what they had done; greying hairs, softening bodies, deepening of wrinkles. Then the pictures stopped.

You never asked them if they missed it.

—

You and Seungcheol started meditating together the next morning; it seemed logical to begin at the easiest step. In an empty sparring room, you sat facing each other, knees touching.

“Have you done this before?” you asked, as you both settled in, shifting weight and adjusting ankles.

“Not with someone else,” he admitted, lips protruding in a bit of a pout. “Only alone.”

You nodded. You’d grown up learning all of this - the right way to fight as a team member, how to be in tune for a neural connection. It led to you teaching Seungcheol often - yet when you fought together, any leadership fell away.

“Normally,” you explained, “you focus on your breath, keeping your mind clear. But for our practice, you want to focus on our breath. We breathe together. And when your mind wanders, your awareness should be coming to peace with my presence there. Like, making a path for the neural connection - for later. So there’s no resistance.”

“Have you done this before?” Seungcheol asked.

You wobbled your head around - not yes, but not no. “I’ve practiced it - I’ve done the meditation with partners. But I’ve never moved forward to an actual drift with anyone.”

This seemed to appease him, and he settled his weight backwards, letting his hands rest near his knees.

You let your eyes float closed and inhaled, listening and feeling for Seungcheol’s inhale to end, letting your breath out when he did. It took no time to match your breaths, to let your mind go blissfully quiet. You focused on feeling open, readable - any thought that floated through your mind, you pretended he could hear, too. You tried to feel and release any defensiveness, any urge to close off.

When the timer went off, it surprised you. You opened your eyes, and the feeling that struck you was this -

It was surprising to see Seungcheol before you. It hadn’t felt like he was beside you. It had felt like he was you.

You meditated, you fought, and finally, you talked.

Laying on the sparring room floor, your head somewhere near Seungcheol’s shins, he asked you, “Where do you wish you were right now? If you weren’t here.”

You laughed at yourself before answering, knowing how silly you would sound. “In a tree.”

A disbelieving smile played on his lips, almost as if he wasn’t sure you weren’t making fun of him somehow. “A tree?”

“No, really,” you insisted, still smiling a little. “There’s not a lot of nature here, in case you didn’t notice. I grew up in the Dome - never got to leave, much.”

Seungcheol didn’t respond to this, just nodded like he understood, his small smile going a bit tight around the edges.

You frowned, reading him exactly. “You think I’m sheltered,” you observed. It wasn’t a question. He couldn’t say no.

He looked at you, then. “You were sheltered,” he said, voice low. “But when I say it, I don’t mean naive. I just think… there’s a lot of world out there. A lot of things to see. You won’t see any of it if you spend your entire life under the Dome.”

You nod, accepting this. “I won’t see any of it if it gets destroyed, either. There’s a lot of world out there - that we’re trying to keep safe.”

Seungcheol watched you intently for a moment, lips downturned and gaze heavy. Then, he asked, “Have you ever seen a kaiju? I mean - in person?”

“Sort of,” you mumbled.

He’d rolled from his back to his front, closer to you, putting you shoulder to shoulder. “Kind of seems like a yes-or-no question.”

Your lips twisted. “Then, no. But I’ve stood in the bay and listened to Mission Control talk my mom and dad through a fight dozens of times, watched Charron’s Revenge on the screens and prayed I wouldn’t see her get sawed in half.”

You stopped, trailed a finger through the thin layer of dirt on the floor. “I know it’s not the same as looking one in the face myself,” you whispered. “But the fear… shouldn’t that fear count, shouldn’t it feel the same?”

Seungcheol swallowed, trailed his own finger through the dirt until his fingertip just barely touched yours. It felt like energy sizzled in the centimeter between your pointer and his.

“When Menaceclaw attacked,” he said, “he missed my home by one block. We watched him go by from the sidewalk. I wasn’t even as tall as his foot. But even with him towering over the buildings, taking them down without even trying, I don’t think what I felt was afraid. I think I just felt resigned. Like I knew, at seven, that even though we survived this one… nothing was going to be… the same, or okay. I don’t know.”

“You knew what you lost,” you said quietly. “Part of you did.”

He looked up at you, nudged his finger into yours. “You never knew anything different. It wasn’t a loss. The fear was just always part of the deal.”

You rolled sideways, laying your head on your bicep for a pillow, regarding the dark-eyed, dark-haired young man across from you. His face scrunched in a laugh, brows furrowing and lips pouting.

“What?” he asked through the quiet laugh. “Why are you looking at me?”

“What else?” you mused. “What else am I going to find when we go tiptoeing through your memories?”

He smiled faintly and then mirrored you, laying his head on his arm, his eyes swimming as he thought.

“A lot of my family, probably,” he said. “A lot of fighting. Menaceclaw. Probably some very mid sex.”

You laughed without meaning to. “My condolences?”

He grinned at you, pleased. “Eh, what can you do? I try to treat everything like a learning experience.”

You laughed again, and his smile grew, gums showing. “What about you?” he asked off-handedly.

“Mid sex?” you asked, eyebrows raising. “I hate to inform you, Choi Seungcheol, but I don’t do anything mid.”

“No,” he protested, laughing, reaching out to gently shake your shoulder. “I meant - what will we see when it’s your turn?”

“The Dome,” you said, half-joking - but it was true. “Training. My parents. Their fights, their accomplishments.”

And, as a true drift partner should, he understood what you weren’t saying.

“We’ll have our turn,” he promised, pushing himself to sit up, then stand, reaching down to help you up. “We’re gonna be fucking unstoppable. Let’s go again.”

Fire sparking behind your ribs, you nodded seriously, then reached up to take his hand.

—

Weeks of sparring melded into months of meditation and talking. The next phase of training co-pilots was learning to drift in one of the simulators - but not in a jaeger. Not yet.

You and Seungcheol finished training in one of the sparring rooms shortly before dinner would be served in the mess hall.

“Meet you there?” you asked, still half-breathless, your body starting to ache as the adrenaline from a fight melted away.

“Sure,” he agreed, and you disappeared into the changing rooms, scrubbing the sweat and dirt away as quickly as you could. You changed into something clean and made your way to the mess hall.

You scanned for familiar faces, frowning when your normal table seemed to be occupied by a team of new recruits that you didn’t know.

Seungcheol appeared at your elbow, frowning dramatically. “Our table,” he whined.

“There’s Chan and Wylie,” you said, nodding to another corner where your friends sat practically on top of each other. Chan and Wylie had never understood personal space, not when it came to one another. They barely noticed when you and Seungcheol plopped onto the benches next to them, but Seungkwan did.

“You’re bleeding, Cherry,” he said, before inhaling an entire mouthful of rice.

You started to scan your arms - you didn’t feel pain anywhere - but Seungcheol found it first, gingerly swiping his thumb along your cheekbone.

“Sorry, Cherry,” he murmured. “I should’ve pulled that punch.”

“No you shouldn’t have,” you grumbled, swatting at his hand and wiping roughly at the spot, your hand coming away with a small smear of red - nothing to be alarmed about. It would stop on its own. “You pull shots in practice, you’ll hesitate in the field.”

“She’s right,” Chan said from his physical tangle with Wylie. “What you practice will show up in your muscle memory. You’ve got to mean it, every time.”

Wylie reached across his arms and took a bite from his plate, then asked, “Did you guys see the new jaeger?”

“I did,” Seungkwan said eagerly. “Chaser Supernova, or something like that? She’s smaller, but she’s supposed to be fast.”

“Is that her team at our normal table?” you asked dryly, shooting the rookies a dark look over your shoulder. Seungcheol jostled you playfully, sending you a smile that brought you back.

The bench dipped to your left, and you turned to see Soonyoung - one of Seungkwan’s two co-pilots - settle in.

“Talking about Supernova?” he asked, hands busy opening his drink. “They seem okay - they’re a trio, like us.”

“Where is Seokmin?” Seungkwan asked, scanning the room. “I haven’t seen him in like two hours.”

“Talking to Jihoon, I think,” Soonyoung answered absently, focused on his meal. “He lost another co-pilot today.”

“Not again,” you and Seungcheol both blurted, matching levels of exasperation.

“That was freaky,” Wylie said, just as Chan told you, “You two are acting like us, now.”

“We do not need another Chan-and-Wylie,” Seungkwan said seriously, shaking his head.

Seungcheol sent you a sideways, sheepish grin.

“We won’t be,” he promised the group, but his eyes were still on you.

—

The simulators were built to be exact replicas of the conn-pod, so that trainees could get used to the feeling of being strapped in, of moving with the gear. But the real purpose was to practice the neural handshake without risking damage - to the jaeger, to the tech bay, to each other.

“Don’t be nervous,” you told Seungcheol as the tech team worked around you both like a choreographed dance.

“I’m never nervous,” he said, suddenly cocky.

If you could reach his hand from where you were strapped in, you would have. If you understood anything about Seungcheol - if any part of him mirrored you - it was the way he showcased bravado, the way he used it as his most-familiar mask.

“It’s only practice,” you reminded him. “And it’s only me.”

He licked his lips quickly, eyes darting to the side and then back to you. Then, he gave you a small nod.

“Normally,” your chief tech - a beautiful woman with jet-black hair named Nainsi - told you, “right now, you would be ready for the drop. In the simulator, we skip that step because we aren’t dropping onto a jaeger. Instead, we’ll engage the pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence.”

You and Seungcheol nod in tandem.

“You’re all good?” Nainsi checks. “Then I’m going back into the tech bay - you’ll hear me through the intercom.”

Alone in the simulator, you met Seungcheol’s gaze and couldn’t help the excited grin that spread across your face. Finally, finally you were here. Once you could do this successfully, the next step was to fight in your own jaeger - to drop into Duellona Fury and walk into the sea.

He didn’t return your smile, instead giving you a tight nod, expression serious.

Over the intercom, you said clearly, “Ready and aligned.”

Nainsi answered, “Prepare for neural handshake.”

You took a deep breath and steeled yourself as the artificial voice of the simulator’s tech system spoke around you, 3… 2… 1… neural handshake initiating…

At first, you thought something went wrong. Everything went red behind your eyelids, and you blinked, instinctively trying to clear it away.

The red faded, and you found yourself in Seungcheol’s childhood home. You didn’t know how you knew that - you just knew. It was as familiar to you, inside the drift, as your own. You knew that to your left was a small kitchen with two broken floor tiles; you knew - without having ever seen it - that to your right was a narrow hallway that led to a bathroom and two small bedrooms.

Two small boys played on the carpet; rather, the smaller one played with some toy cars while the other watched the television with rapture. Behind them, at the kitchen table, a woman typed busily on an outdated laptop, bags heavy under her eyes.

Somewhere around you, a voice floated by, telling you, neural handshake strong and holding.

You could see Seungcheol in your periphery - the adult Seungcheol, the Seungcheol of now - as he looked at his mother, his brother, himself.

“It’s not real,” you reminded him gently. “It’s just a memory.”

“I know,” he said back, voice hushed, as if he might scare them away. “It’s just… good to see them.”

The house evaporated as gently as morning dew under a mid-morning sun; you stood in a schoolyard. Seungcheol, the small one, had a bloody lip and a mean swing.

You felt a rush of affection for him - him, the child, face contorting with misplaced anger, using strength as a bandage. You wanted to stand in front of him, between him and the anger, him and the other kids, and let him take a breath. You wanted to tell him to step with his punch to get more power. You wanted to put a hand on his shoulder and tell him, you’re going to be fine.

And he knew all of it, because he was in your mind.

Seungcheol - your Seungcheol - walked away from the swarm of children egging on the fight and opened a door. You followed.

Inside was not the school, but a hospital room. Your body jolted forward, distracting and alarming. You heard, faintly, a series of beeps, that robotic voice needling in your ears, saying, calibration failure… recalibrating in 3… 2… 1…

“It’s only a memory,” you said again, but the warning beeps were coming stronger, louder, more clearly. The hospital room looked opaque, and Seungcheol walked backwards towards you, away from it, herding you both out of the room. The room - a bed, a pulled curtain, a lot of white - flickered, like a glitch, and then vanished, leaving you standing in the simulator.

Neural handshake disengaged…

“Seungcheol!” you yelled, pulling your helmet off and wheeling on him as best you could with most of your body still strapped in. “What the hell was that? You pushed me out!”

He was breathing hard, eyes a little wild. “Not that,” he said, a little ragged. “I’ll let you in but - not that.”

“You don’t get to choose!” you snapped. Part of you knew this was just growing pains, he’d never drifted before, he was learning. But the rest of you smarted and stung - both from his rejection and from your failure to train, to succeed, to check off this final step before you could get inside your jaeger. “It’s kind of an all-or-nothing thing!”

He let out a billow of air, reaching a hand up to rub at his face. “Sorry. I’ll… let’s try again.”

You didn’t answer, fuming silently instead.

“I’m sorry, Cherry,” he said. “The stuff with my dad…”

“You can’t cherry-pick what we see and what we don’t,” you fired back. His eyes shot to yours and his mouth quirked and you read the joke all over his face. “Don’t you laugh, Seungcheol, it’s not funny!”

But you were laughing through the scolding.

“Stop,” you whined.

Your anger defused, he looked at you again, taking a bracing breath. “It’s not about you,” he tried to explain. “I’m not keeping you out. I’m keeping me out.”

“Don’t chase the rabbit,” you told him, shaking your head. “See what it wants you to see and move on. Find the next door. If you stand there and let your hurt - or your, I don’t know… grief - rise up… that’s when we’re going to have trouble.”

“Find the next door,” he repeated, eyes on the floor. “Got it.”

“You can’t push it away,” you reminded him, “but you don’t have to stay in it, either.”

He nodded, eyes already lighting up, ready to go again.

The second time, you saw him steel himself before opening that same door, watching carefully as he shuffled inside, only looking sideways at the hospital room that materialized around you.

“Seungcheol.”

He turned to look at you, wide-eyed, but you hadn’t called him. The voice, weak and hoarse, had come from the other side of the fluttering curtain.

The glitching started almost immediately - the image around you flickering like a bad wall projection. Something rocked beneath your feet, an earthquake only inside your minds.

You opened your mouth, started to tell him, you don’t have to stay, to remind him that he could move forward. Instead, you heard yourself say, “I’m here.”

The tremors under your feet quivered to a stop. You watched with trepidation and Seungcheol closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Then, he held his hand out, waiting.

You slipped your hand into his, and then he turned and continued walking, ignoring his father’s memory calling out to him. The flickering stopped, the picture you were part of brightening again as you found the next door, stepped through, left his pain behind.

—

It got easier quickly. Seungcheol’s ability to press on, to maintain focus, strengthened.

The strolls through your mind went easier - you’d had years to practice maintaining focus, waiting until after to let the emotions hit you.

Seungcheol learned to be ready for you, after. He’d sit with you, silent, and breathe in tandem as you worked to let go, to release the images of Charron’s Revenge on the tech bay screen, the sounds of your parents’ frantic communication as they fought together, the fear crawling its way up your legs every time until someone in the bay said, “Charron’s Revenge, cleared to return.” The loneliness of being the only kid in the Dome, having no outlet except fighting. Everything that threatened your mind while you piloted, everything that you had to save for later - save for him.

You were both freshly turned twenty when you got green-lit to drive.

“Seungcheol!” you called across the mess hall, practically racing to your table. He turned, eyebrows raised, as you crossed the large room.

“We’re approved to drop!” you told him excitedly. It churned in you - finally, finally you could fight, you could prove what you could do, you could help. “We’re on the drop schedule for tomorrow!”

His grin was unfettered, unfiltered, just for you. He reached up a fist and you bumped it enthusiastically. You were too excited to eat, too excited to sleep. You tossed and turned, imagining experiencing a drop for the first time, imagining striding through the mighty sea like it was nothing, imagining staring down hell itself and bringing it to its knees.

You were still awake when you heard the alarms down the hall. Yours didn’t go off, because you weren’t on duty, weren’t approved to fight.

Down the hall, there was a flurry of commotion - shouting, rushing, people pushing past you as they pulled on boots and jackets.

“Cat-3 in the west bay,” someone shouted.

“Deploying Devil’s Advocate!”

You reached the tech bay, trying to stay out of the way but not unseen. When the Marshall strode by, you stepped sideways.

“Let us drop,” you said quickly, knowing time was precious. “It’ll be like practice. We can be back-up. We’ll hang back.”

“Absolutely not,” the Marshall said, already moving to work past you. “You’re not approved yet. We don’t need a liability right now.”

“We’re scheduled for tomorrow!” you protested, and then you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“We’ll get our turn,” Seungcheol told you quietly. Of course he’d come out, of course he found you.

You deflated. “It could have been us. We are hours from approval.”

He gave your shoulder a tiny shake. “We’ll get our turn,” he repeated. “Don’t make trouble.”

You glowered, but you knew he was right. “Fine,” you grumbled as Joshua and Jeonghan slinked past you in matching jackets and matching shit-eating grins. You stayed out of the way as they prepared to drop.

You stayed through the fight, listened to the control room buzz and chatter, until you heard, “Devil’s Advocate, cleared to return.”

Only then did you try to go back to sleep. Seungcheol gave your shoulder one more squeeze.

“Tomorrow,” he promised.

“Tomorrow,” you repeated.

—

Some people feel God at church. The history of tradition and the sanctity of ritual speak to them, help them feel part of something, help them feel that unnameable swell of something spiritual.

Some people feel God in nature. The patterns of the universe, the way math exists without human touch, the harmonies and patterns that seem too intricate for coincidence help them believe in a planner’s touch. The beauty of the outdoors allows them to wonder, to feel like they belong as a piece of this clockwork.

But you - you felt God when you stood before your jaeger, marveling at the power, the beauty, how it feels like yours, how it feels like Seungcheol before you’re even inside it. Duellona Fury promises you power, promises you purpose.

That hand was on your shoulder again, and it slid down to the center of your back before removing itself.

Beside you, Seungcheol stared up at your glorious machine.

“She looks sick,” he said, the grin taking over his face.

“I can’t wait to fuck shit up,” you murmured, your reverent tone at odds with the flippancy of your words.

“Ready?” the Marshall asked you, coming up to your left. “We’ll get you calibrated and dropped, and then you’ll do a lap of the bay. We’re sending out Pretty Savage just in case you run into trouble.”

The defensiveness rose in you quick, like a snakebite.

“We don’t need a babysitter,” Seungcheol said, voice hard. You reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze - a reminder to watch it, just as his hand on your shoulder frequently did for you.

“It’s just safety protocol.” The Marshall was unphased by the outburst. “Have fun, you two. Enjoy your first joy-ride.”

You screamed when you dropped, the exhilaration rushing out of you as Duellona Fury fell story after story before slowing and attaching to your jaeger’s mainframe.

Goosebumps raised along your arms when the Shatterdome’s sea-doors slid open, shudders traveling your body as you and Seungcheol stepped together, Duellona Fury stepping with you, her gigantic, metal form following every movement.

For the first time in your whole, careful life, you felt powerful. Your jaeger cut through the ocean waves like they were nothing, making an easy perimeter of the bay. In your head, you could somehow both hear and feel Seungcheol’s delight, his low-simmering desire to fight, to do something a perfect mirror of your own.

“How is it?” Soonyoung’s voice crackled in your ears, reminding you that Pretty Savage wasn’t far behind you.

“Incredible,” Seungcheol answered him, at the same time that you said, “It’s everything.”

It didn’t matter that you came from a family of pilots. It didn’t matter that you were raised in the Dome, training since you were young. None of that mattered. You were born for this - born to fight for your planet, born for Duellona Fury, born for Choi Seungcheol.

—

The west bay became Duellona’s playground; you and Seungcheol were often assigned to patrol there.

It was only a few months in that you faced a kaiju for the first time.

“Come in, Duellona Fury,” Nainsi’s voice came through. “We have a reading just a few miles north of you. Cat-2. Approaching at -”

Duellona Fury was turning due north before the command was even given.

“Are you ready for this?” you shouted to Seungcheol as Duellona slid through the water, the adrenaline singing in your system already.

“You know I am,” he answered, something hard in it, and the thrill in your stomach sparked.

When the sea split in half, the kaiju rising from the depths with an unearthly roar, you sank into a defensive stance, feeling Seungcheol move beside you, doing the same.

“Let’s fucking go,” Seungcheol said darkly, and launched forward, your arms rearing back for momentum before the first swing. The punch landed solidly, your whole body shaking once as the kaiju faltered backwards a few steps.

It opened its mouth and you glimpsed three rows of teeth bigger than a cow before it was lunging at you; Duellona Fury lurched. You tried to duck sideways as Seungcheol tried to move towards your opponent.

The moment of indecision cost you - the kaiju got its teeth on Duellona’s shoulder, knocking you back several steps. Beside you, Seungcheol roared as sparks flew near the bite.

“Are we breached?” you yelled, trying to steady your balance again.

“Not yet!” he yelled back, and you swung again, a hit landing hard enough to knock the kaiju loose, spitting it back into the sea.

You tried to move into a defensive crouch again; again, the jaeger faltered.

“Cherry!” Seungcheol yelled, desperation laced in his voice. “Cherry, don’t fight me!”

“Move with me!” you answered, and he did, miraculously, Duellona dodging left before an incoming attack.

Don’t fight me.

You rocked forward with Seungcheol as soon as you were clear of the kaiju’s trajectory, just as you’d done in practice thousands of times. Back in sync, Duellona Fury landed a kick to the kaiju’s middle that sent it stumbling.

“We’ve got him,” you said, feeling a win.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Seungcheol warned you. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the kaiju exploded from the dark ocean, limbs flailing as it flew towards you.

Duellona’s arms came up and locked it in battle, the impact shaking you so hard that your teeth chattered against each other. You groaned with exertion as you tried to match its strength.

“I don’t think we can hold it,” you managed through grit teeth.

“We’ve got this,” your partner promised, and with a mighty shove, you managed to flip the beast over your shoulder and beneath the waves.

“Drop the bombs and head for the east side,” you said quickly, already moving. Duellona Fury followed your command, turning and starting an easy run through the bay’s churning waters, away from where the kaiju was struggling to its feet, furious and vengeful. As she ran, she dropped three small explosives, about sixty feet apart. The explosives slipped into the ocean depths.

“Ready?” Seungcheol asked, a little breathless. “Are we far enough away?”

“Light him up,” you replied. Seungcheol reached up and tapped the button; somewhere behind you, the ocean exploded.

—

“How’s your shoulder?” you asked, later, in the med bay.

“Not that bad,” Seungcheol said, but you could see the blood-stains on the bandaging.

“It won’t happen again,” you promised. “I think I just… practiced alone for so long. I forgot to listen. I’m sorry.”

Seungcheol shook his hand, eyes finding yours. “There’s nothing to forgive, Cherry. Forget about it.” Then, he brightened. “You know what I want to do?”

“What?” you asked, not entirely past feeling guilty.

His smile was devilish. “I want to go celebrate our first fucking kill.”

–

You marked the passing of two years in statistics.

Three hundred and forty-six explosives detonated.

Two hundred and eighty-three drops. Two hundred and eight-three kills.

Seventy-two mainframe repairs.

Twenty-eight achievement awards.

Nine television interviews.

Six upgrades.

One ill-informed “vacation” during which you both itched with anxiety, spending the whole time messaging your friends back in the Shatterdome desperately, praying you wouldn’t miss a fight in which you were needed.

Seven hundred and thirty days of living in and around Seungcheol’s mind and heart. But that stat should’ve gone first.

It was a good high. Your team had a good run.

It wasn’t a kaiju that reduced it to ash, not an attack that took your team out of the rotation of main fighters and sent your jaeger to gather rust and dust below the Dome. It was your own stupid heart.

There were a lot of moments that could have been it. Each time you walked into a fight knowing the danger, each time he ended up in the med bay reeking of antibacterial ointment and resentment. Each time you slid into your place beside him - space he saved only for you. Each time his voice bidding you goodnight from the bottom bunk was the last thing you heard at the end of the day. Any of these moments might have been the one to make you stop, gasp, suddenly slammed with understanding. That you loved him, that he was everything you couldn’t bear to be without, that he was part of you. But they weren’t.

There was no moment of realization at all.

Instead, it slowly seeped into your consciousness, as gently and naturally as morning dew collecting on pre-dawn petals. The knowledge clung to you, as impossible to ignore as damp feet after running barefoot through the yard just after sunrise.

If you knew something, that meant your co-pilot would know it, too.

Unless you tucked it away, pushed it down deep and cast his attention elsewhere, a mental sleight-of-hand. Look here instead.

You were twenty-three, on a routine patrol, when Mission Control radioed Duellona that there was a reading in the bay.

“Looks like it’s only a Cat-1,” Mission Control told you.

“On it,” you told them, feeling your body already mirroring Seungcheol’s as Duellona picked up her pace, striding through the waves.

You glanced sideways at him, and immediately wished you hadn’t. He was already zoned in, eyes focused and jaw sharp as he concentrated.

He caught your gaze for only a second. “Focus, Cherry,” he cautioned. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I would never,” you retorted, and he laughed. You were both cocky; you both knew it.

For a second, things felt better.

The fight was almost easy, when the ocean seemed to split in two and the waves fell away like wrapping paper to reveal the kaiju you’d been sent for.

You swung and ducked, dropping explosives strategically, Seungcheol moving in unison with you. There was something graceful about it - something beautiful in the sync, something holy in the way your muscles mimicked each other’s.

This is what happens when sunlight hits morning dew: it warms, lifts, makes the air humid and sticky until it burns away.

It rose up in you, your love for him, infusing the air around you, infusing the neural handshake that he was deeply imbedded in.

No.

You panicked, tried to do several things at once - tried to shove the feeling down, tried to think of something else, tried to push Seungcheol’s consciousness out of yours.

Duellona Fury lurched around you, shuddering.

“Cherry!” Seungcheol screamed to your left, and then the kaiju hit, its full weight slamming into Duellona’s mainframe.

You both staggered, trying to right yourselves, as the machines around you blinked and beeped and rebooted.

Seungcheol grunted under the neural weight of driving alone as you gasped and closed your eyes, trying desperately to fix it. Around you, you heard the floating words - recalibrating.

“Recalibrate faster!” you shouted, glancing sideways to see your co-pilot struggling to hold the monster in place, his face contorting with effort, arms straining against the machinery. He bared his gritted teeth, exhaling in a hiss between them.

You gave yourself a shake, bouncing on the balls of your feet, desperate for the connection to take again so you could pick up your half, take the literal weight from him. As soon as you felt the neural handshake, you gave a mighty shove and Duellona flipped the monster backwards, the ocean receding and then coming back to slam her shins, swallowing the monster whole.

You both sank into a defensive stance, ready for the beast to rise again.

“What was that?” Seungcheol demanded, later, as he sat in the med bay, waiting for his nosebleed to stop. The nosebleed you’d caused by letting him carry a neural load meant for two.

“I don’t know,” you lied, still panicked and desperate.

“Bullshit,” Seungcheol countered, eyes narrowed. He reached up and pulled the cotton away from his face, examining it. “I’m fine now,” he announced, and tossed the wad into a nearby trash bin, standing.

You fought the urge to cower, knowing he’d never let it go if you did. You followed him silently out of the med bay and back towards your dormitories. Halfway there, he slowed, then stopped.

Then, more calmly this time, he asked, “What happened, Cherry? You pushed me out.”

There was a slight pout to it, a sliver of hurt, and it sliced through you like something tangible, like you were actually wounded from it, like it might actually bleed.

“I don’t know,” you repeated. Guilt poked at you until you relented, gave him something that was at least partly true. “I got scared.”

“That can’t happen, and you know it,” he said seriously, his large frame casting a long shadow to your left as he leaned into your space. “You can’t keep secrets - that’s piloting 101. We’ve got to handle it. You know what’s at stake here.”

You did; you did, and that was entirely the problem. It wasn’t just feelings, it wasn’t just your relationship with Seungcheol at stake. It was your relationship with your co-pilot - your ability to fight was at stake, your ability to keep others safe. Your legacy.

Your parents’ wall of pictures flashed in your mind.

“I’m going to my mom and dad’s for a while,” you said quietly.

He nodded, let you run away - trusted you to come back to him when you were ready, trusted you to let him in.

You weren’t sure if he was right or wrong, as you walked away and left him behind.

You didn’t go to your parents’, though. Instead, you went to the tech bay and sat, watching Duellona undergo simple repairs from her fight. You stayed there, the metal cold beneath your thighs, watching the tech team buff over a scratch on your jaeger’s torso, until someone dropped into the spot next to you, bumping their shoulder roughly into yours.

“Where’s Seungcheol?” Wylie, who co-piloted Fury Striker with Chan, was your closest friend in the Dome besides Seungcheol.

“He’s pissed at me,” you answered, looking sideways, because the question had really meant, why isn’t Seungcheol with you?

You weren’t sure she’d understand what you were going through - she and Chan had been obsessed with each other since they were kids. Neither of them had ever had to fear that their love for each other would mess anything up. It had been part of their deal from the start.

“What’d you do?” Wylie demanded, turning her full, unfettered attention on you. You wanted to shrink from the intensity of it - but that was always how Wylie worked: full wattage, all the time.

“Almost got us killed by a fucking Cat-1 tonight,” you muttered, angry at yourself, angry at your heart.

Wylie smacked your arm hard enough to send you sideways. “Cherry!” she scolded.

“There was something I didn’t want him to see.” You said it in your head first, weighed the words, then forced them through your teeth. You hoped she’d just know what it was, hoped you wouldn’t have to force those words past muscle and bone, too.

Wylie’s face dropped into irritation. “Cherry,” she repeated, disappointment dripping from the two syllables.

You looked up at Duellona Fury again.

“You can’t do that,” she told you, giving your ankle a little kick for emphasis. “You know you can’t do that.”

You can’t love him? Or, you can’t keep secrets from him?

You didn’t ask. You didn’t want to know the answer.

Seungcheol was waiting up for you when you finally returned to the dorm. You opened the door to find the first room - an entryway and kitchen, both - dimly lit. Beyond it, in the small sitting space, Seungcheol sat facing the door, his chin in his hand.

You knew the look on his face. You knew it so well that you almost ran from it, almost turned right around and went back out to the hallway.

Brows slightly furrowed, mouth a straight line, jaw tight. Eyes focused, locked in. It was the face he made in training before he bodied someone. It was the face he made in the field before an offensive strike. It meant he had his sights on a target, a problem, and he was about to throw everything he had at it.

And right now, you were the problem.

“Hey?” you tried meekly.

He nodded. Licked his lips. Stood.

He’s pissed at me, you’d told Wylie. The energy radiating from your co-pilot was much more complex than that, the air around you palpably tense and teetering.

“How was it at your parents’?” he asked, voice low.

You took one tentative step closer. “I didn’t go,” you admitted. One lie between you was already more than you wanted. “I watched them patch up Duellona instead. Talked to Wylie a little.”

He nodded, eyes still on you. Nervousness coursed through you, but it would be a lie - another one - to say it wasn’t laced with a little excitement. He was stunning, always, but like this - it almost took your breath away.

If he was in your mind right now, there’d be no question. He’d know all of it. The attraction, the desire, the fear, the affection, the love, the need. All of it.

His eyes caught on a bruise peeking out from the short sleeve of your top. “You should’ve had them look at that,” he said, reaching out like he wanted to run his fingers over the dark splotch, but he was just too far away, fingertips closing around the air just an inch or two away.

You shook your head. “You needed attention first. You carried the neural load alone.” Because of me.

“Only for a minute.”

“A minute too long. I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

It hung between you. You don’t know if you’d inched forward or he had, or both, but you were close enough to touch now when you hadn’t been just seconds ago.

He lifted his eyes, his gaze locking on yours. In the dim room, his eyes shone black. “You pushed me out.”

It was an accusation, but it was also a question.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, barely able to say it, your voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. “Seungcheol, I was scared.”

Maybe he was in your head. Maybe he did know all of it.

“Don’t be,” he told you. “Don’t be scared.”

His arms were around you though you didn’t see him move. It wasn’t the first time you’d let him embrace you - after a fight, in relief, or in victorious delight, or sometimes just in sleepy affection at the end of a long day. It was far from the first time that you’d found comfort in the space between his arms, strong and capable around your frame, your forehead pressed against his sternum as his heart beat directly into your bones.

But it was the first time that his fingers, confident and sure, tipped under your chin, guiding you to look up at him, guiding your mouth to meet his.

You don’t know if you melted or exploded - it was somehow both at once. You gripped his back, feeling the muscles move beneath his t-shirt, relaxing into his hold and focusing on the feel of his full lips firm and hungry against your own. This was everything - everything you’d wanted, everything you were afraid of, everything you needed, everything that could rip your life apart.

You didn’t mean to whine, but it slipped up your throat and into the gasped space between your lips and his as you tried to pull in a desperate breath. He responded with a grunt, walking you backwards until the edge of the kitchen counter jutted into your lower back. His hands traveled, up to the back of your neck, back down to the slight curve of your waist, around to the back of your ass. He tugged your hips against his roughly, and you let your head fall back, panting, head spinning.

“Cherry,” he breathed against the newly bared stretch of your neck, his lips close enough to drag against your skin as he spoke.

Your hands found the back of his neck, gave the slightest tug upwards, and he followed, bringing his mouth back to yours. His tongue pressed yours briefly, your moan muffled entirely by his mouth as you tried to press him closer, closer, as if you wanted your rib-cages to meld, to slip together like fitting puzzle pieces.

His hand slipped lower from your ass and wrapped around your thighs, taking only a second to lift you onto the counter behind you. You wrapped yourself around him immediately, pulling him into the space between your legs, arms around his neck, pulling him in, wanting to feel every bit of him against you.

His hands found the hem of your shirt and lifted; you raised your arms in compliance and felt the cotton slip over your head and your hands.

“Yours,” you murmured, but he had already reached back between his shoulder blades, his own top joining yours on the floor.

Your hands found him on their own, sliding over his skin, fingers dipping between muscles, thumbs sweeping over shadows.

You kissed until you turned liquid, molten, your fingers wrapped in his hair. His fingers mapped every inch of your skin, as if his job was to report back on every previously unknown dip, every rough circle, every beauty mark or blemish. His fingers traced them all, his hands passing over you reverently.

The brush of his bare chest against your own was torturous; delicious until you were full, until you couldn’t take it anymore, until the electric-sharp thrill became uncomfortable. You tilted backwards, creating more space between your torsos but pushing your hips firmly into his.

You both groaned at the contact. You could feel the heat and weight of him now, and everything instinctual within you urged you to shift further, to bring that heat and heaviness closer to the part of you that ached for it.

He pressed his hips into you without reservation, your core clenching in response to the movement and the friction.

Then he leaned back, his hands gripping the edge of the counter, his arms bracketing you on either side, his chest heaving as he struggled to control his breathing. He drank you in, his eyes as molten as you felt. You leaned back on your elbows and met his gaze.

The moment expanded; nothing existed but his eyes and the pant of his breath and the way he smelled like he’d just finished a fight and the way he felt between your thighs, unmovable and steady.

Neither of you was connected to jaeger machinery, but you may as well have been, because you knew without a shadow of a doubt that your minds were connected, the drift be damned. Your eyes locked, you knew he felt everything you felt - the gravity of what you were doing, the love that drove you, the fire coursing through you. If there was going to be hesitation or questioning, this was the moment, this was the pause. But you were one, your minds were one, and there was none of that.

His unvoiced question definitively answered by the certainty that flowed between you, Seungcheol moved to lift you again, taking you easily from the countertop into the dark of the room you share, settling you on your back on his bottom bunk.

Above you, mostly shadowed, was your other half, the only person who knew and understood every cobwebbed corner of your consciousness, the only person who had walked through your mind and found himself mirrored in every way that mattered. He was beautiful in the fractured light, his expression serious and gaze intense.

You reached up to slide your thumb along his jaw and his eyes fluttered closed, his breath leaving him as in relief, as if you’d made some kind of admission.

Making love to Seungcheol felt like drifting. His eyes on you as his fingers pulled you apart felt the same as the careful way he’d watch you when your memories got emotional, like he was watching for any sign that you weren’t okay, that you needed more or less or him.

The way his breath and shoulders shuddered when he pressed into you for the first time felt the same as when he faltered in face of his father’s memory; both times, his fingers laced through yours and held tight until you could both breathe again.

He felt how you’d always known he would. Perfect - a perfect fit for you, a physical compatibility you had never tested but had always trusted would be there. He took you apart without even trying, and all you could do was hold onto him, feel all of him, feel all of it, and try to remember to breathe.

You didn’t speak as you moved together in the dark; the only sounds in the tight room were muted gasps, tiny moans muffled against necks, skin on skin, the obscene squelching sounds that accompanied each snap of his hips. You didn’t say the words that your lips tried to form - it’s so much, go slow for a little, Seungcheol, I love you, more - please, don’t stop. Maybe he heard them. Maybe this was a different way to drift, one that didn’t need wires.

You did your best to hold his gaze, losing sight of him only when you strained up to kiss him, when you nuzzled your face into the warmth between his neck and shoulder and gasped against a wave of sensation, when you couldn’t help but close them as they rolled back, your toes curling.

He pressed his forehead to yours when he finished, your name slipping out of him, as if it had been literally squeezed from his lungs. “Cherry… Cherry…”

You lay together in silence for a long time, feeling your hearts slow, your skin cool. Your thumb traced his jaw again and again, slow, worshipful. “Cheol,” you whispered. My Cheol. My everything. You didn’t say the rest as you lay together in the quiet, in the dark, your heartbeats competing.

You didn’t know that you’d drifted together for the last time. You didn’t know that your ability to neural connect could be broken.

–

The wind whips around you, stinging your face. You barely flinch. When you’d first relocated here, three years ago, the cold had made you literally cry during your first month. Just from having to walk from the door of the dormitory across the yard to the mess hall dorm, the intensity of it had sent you spiraling into misery - damning the circumstances that had sent you here, away from everyone and everything you knew and loved, to a place where the air hurt.

You were sure it would hurt, this intensely, forever.

But time eased the sting, and despite your doubts you did adjust. Now the early morning wind feels bracing and refreshing rather than painful. You’ve adjusted to a lot of things since relocating to a small training center in Alakanuk, Alaska: the climate, the food, the no-frills campus you lived and worked on. Being away from your parents, from Wylie and Chan and Seungkwan and Jeonghan and all the other pilots you were friends with at the Shatterdome.

Being away from Seungcheol. Being partnerless, a half instead of a whole.

Being unable to pilot, unable to fight.

Being brokenhearted.

Just like the cold, the pain of your losses was the same - the sting of heartbreak and loneliness and homesickness faded to something ignorable, something you could keep tucked tight in the back of your mind.

You can hear the noise from inside the mess hall before you even cross the courtyard. There are short of fifty girls ranging from ages seven to eighteen being housed here, but from the noise you’d swear it was at least a hundred.

The buildings are single-storied, painted with a heavily-chipping grey-blue that sometimes seems to belong to the mist you often get rolling in from the ocean. When you’d first come, you’d legitimately thought they were painted that way as camouflage, meant to blend in with the sea. The other trainers had a good laugh about that.

As you cross the courtyard between the trainers’ dorms and the mess hall, you breathe deeply, eyes on the birds alight above you. After a lifetime in the Shatterdome, you don’t take for granted the fresh air you’re afforded as you pass between buildings, outside, the sky open and changing above. You don’t take for granted the rhythm of the ocean, the cries of the gulls, nor the distant treeline.

It was Seungcheol who had noted that you were sheltered, having never lived outside of the Dome.

It was Seungcheol you could blame - at least halfway - for your relocation here, where there wasn’t a jaeger or even a city for hundreds of miles.

When you pull open the flimsy door to the mess hall, the noise triples. Several of the girls call out to greet you, and you give them a quick wave as you head to the table where the staff eats.

“You’re later than normal,” one of the other instructors notes as you reach for a piece of bread.

You shrug lightly, unbothered. “Still have plenty of time before the first class. What day is today, Thursday? I’ve got the little ones first, right?”

The all-girls training center is meant to teach fighting and the groundworks for drifting, but no jaegers are housed here, no teams launch into the icy bay. The girls here will grow up to pilot - if they get selected, if they get paired with a partner.

You’re mostly here to teach them to fight, the way you trained in the Dome, but you do plenty more. Help brush hair in the mornings, console tearful faces, teach games and sports, mediate arguments. You also got sucked into running one literacy class a week, though you still haven’t figured out how that happened.

It would be a lie to say this wasn’t fulfilling, that you didn’t love the girls you cared for, that you weren’t happy here with the ocean and birds and trees and laughter. In many ways, the seclusion of this training center is exactly what you needed to get back on your feet, to find strength in yourself, to heal with distance and time.

But, god, what you would give for a real fight. What you would give to feel both loved and threatened by Wylie, to rib at the guys, to hug your mom. What you would give to hear Seungcheol’s teasing pout, to catch his gaze across the span of your jaeger and know what his body and yours will do, to feel his fingers just barely graze your back when he knows you need to be reminded to focus.

The final time you’d tried, the neural connection never took. It was like trying to connect with a stranger. It had simply been still, a thing that was never alive.

“Don’t do this,” Seungcheol had begged, and that had been the nail in the coffin.

Don’t do this, he’d said. It had landed like blame. Like everything was your fault, and only yours. Like you had broken the connection on purpose, were keeping him out, barricading your mind from his when you desperately wanted everything to go right back to normal.

After that failure, you didn’t tell him you were asking to be reassigned. You didn’t want to give him the chance to say don’t do this a second time.

You’ve just ended a class, the girls starting to filter out through the training room’s side door towards the mess hall for lunch, when the center’s Administrator calls your name from the door.

“There’s a call for you on my line. I have them holding.”

A call?

Adrenaline races through you; it has to be an emergency. Your parents and friends can reach you on your own device, which is tucked into your back pocket. To call the mainline here at the center means this is a base-to-base call, not a personal one.

You’ve only been in this office a handful of times in your few years here, and you shuffle awkwardly around the desk and pick up the receiver that sits abandoned on the chipped, wooden desktop.

You greet the person on the line with your real name.

“Cherry?”

Your Marshall - your old Marshall, from the Dome - sounds unsure if he has the right person on the line. No one has called you Cherry in three years. Even your parents have used your given name the few times they’ve said it on your weekly calls home.

“It’s me,” you affirm. “Is everything okay? My parents?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, and you heave a relieved breath. “Everyone is fine. This is official business. I want to call you in.”

You shake your head, frowning, well aware that he can’t see your reaction. Your body has said no, but you force yourself to ask, “Me? Why?”

“We’re down a few teams,” the Marshall says. “And -”

“You’ve got more recruits than places to put them,” you counter before he can finish. “Call one of the new teams up. Call three new teams up. You don’t need me.”

“We do - we need teams with experience, teams that are ready. Not rookies bumbling around looking for mistakes. We need precision. We need Duellona Fury.”

Your Marshall lays out the situation: the teams that are out, the problems they’re having at the breach - less time between attacks, more monsters at once. You’ve seen this before, you all have, and there’s protocol in place - protocol that starts with all hands on deck.

You shake your head again. From the door, the Administrator of the center watches you seriously, like she knows you’re being taken away.

“Marshall, with all due respect, I don’t know why you’re calling me,” you admit. “What can I give you? I can’t pilot Duellona.”

Not anymore.

The Marshall sighs, like he knew this argument was coming and didn’t have a good response.

“I think you can,” he says finally. “I’m not saying it will be easy, and I’m not saying it will happen quickly or without effort. But I think you can.”

“No,” you say, the first time you’ve voiced it. “You were there. You saw what happened. We can’t drift anymore.”

“You couldn’t then,” he points out. “That was three years ago. You’ve both had a lot of time to…. You’ve both had a lot of time since then. Things that were once too painful to carry into the drift… they’ve had time to mellow.”

This blow knocks you into silence. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, eyes steadfastly on the warped wood of the desk, fingers toying absently with the Administrator’s pen.

He’s wrong, and you want to tell him so. Nothing had mellowed. You love Seungcheol just as much today as you did three years ago. The splitting ache in your chest that you’ve felt every day since you became aware of loving him has only worked its way deeper with time.

And Seungcheol’s anger? The anger and betrayal he’d leveled at you, when he was sure you were keeping him out of your head on purpose? You couldn’t speak for him, but if you had to guess, there weren’t enough years in a human life to let that hurt mellow into something safe enough to drift with.

“Have you talked to him about this?” You’re afraid of the answer.

The Marshall hesitates. “Not yet.”

“You might want to do that first,” you point out. “Before flying me back only to have him refuse.”

The Marshall’s voice hardens, and you can just picture his eyes narrowing. “Mr. Choi will follow orders,” he says evenly, “and so will you. Asking is really just a courtesy.”

“You can’t order us into being able to drift again,” you snap, pulse suddenly pounding in your arms, your hands, your face, your chest.

“No,” the Marshall says, and any previous friendliness is gone from his voice now, “but I can - and will - order you to try.”

The girls cry when you tell them you’re leaving, and it makes you want to cry, too. You hold it together as you give them hugs, hold it together as you pack your single bag of belongings. You hold it together in the passenger seat of the center’s only beat-up van, waving out the back window as the training center fades away.

It’s standing on the deck of the ferry, the coast receding and the sea wind clawing at your face, that you let it go. You bury your face behind your hands and feel it release behind your ribs. You cry for all of it - for leaving the girls behind, for leaving a place that had sheltered you like a sanctuary. For the time you’d lost at the Dome, for the fights you’d sat out, for the years with your parents and friends that had slipped away like sand between your fingers. For your fear that Seungcheol will turn you away, just as hurt and angry as he was one thousand and ninety-five days ago.

You’d been so determined to keep him from walking through the depths of your love for him, in the drift. You were so scared it would be too much, too intense, too much emotion for the drift. You’d been scared it would be too much for him - that the weight of it would inherently ask for more than he could give you in return. You’d been scared it would ruin your partnership, your compatibility, your capability to co-pilot.

But that had happened anyway. You almost have to laugh.

As furiously as your tears begin, they peter out quickly. You take a few deep gulps of salty air, use the backs of your hands to wipe at your cheeks and beneath your nose. As you calm down, you keep your eyes on the horizon, your hands tight on the ship’s railing, and you let your mind wander back to Seungcheol. Here, thousands of miles away, you let yourself think back to those last weeks before you left the Shatterdome. You let yourself wonder, for the first time, what exactly caused everything to crumble.

You’d been so afraid to let Seungcheol into your head once the loving him had taken over. Why had it scared you so badly? As you keep your eyes on the grey of the horizon, you puzzle it out in your mind.

Had it been the uncertainty? That had certainly played a part. Did Seungcheol love you, back then? If he didn’t, everything between you could have changed - your friendship, your partnership, your ability to drift. It hadn’t seemed worth the risk to lose it all - his presence in your life, your ability to fight together.

But maybe he had. If he did love you, back then… that would have changed things, too. What if starting something romantic affected your drift? There were too many maybes, too many variables. It had seemed safe to push it all down, to try and keep him away from it. To try and keep things the same.

Of course, you’d lost it all anyway.

Even if he did love you three years ago, you think as the sea air whips around you, did he love you the way you loved him? What if it had been too much - the way you could breathe once he was with you, the way you kept each other in check - what if he had loved you, but not that much?

Had it been a mistake to keep him out? Maybe. But it could have been just as catastrophic to let him in. There was no way to know, now.

You turn away from the ship’s railing, away from the horizon and the sea, away from your mistakes. There’s no use looking back like this. You can’t change it. You aren’t even sure you can fix it.

You were hoping to sleep on the plane, but you’re woefully awake well after take-off. Determined not to keep ruminating on what had happened before you left, instead you wonder what awaits you now.

The most-likely scenario, you think, professional and polite - but cold. Like you, he takes duty and responsibility seriously. The airplane bumps, a pocket of air jostling the small craft, and your hands find the armrests and cling tight until it stops.

The best case scenario, of course, would be that enough time has passed that Seungcheol’s hurt has faded. Maybe, you think, maybe he’s moved on from harboring that anger. Maybe he’ll greet you warmly, maybe you’ll pick up right where you left off.

This hope, this day-dream, aches, so much that you blink it away and turn to watch the clouds through the window, a desperate distraction. You crave Seungcheol - you crave feeling safe with his arms around you, you crave the elation you’d feel when he entered the room you were in, you crave the peace that comes with two minds engaged in neural handshake - the peace of someone’s mind interlaced with your own, understanding you, operating with you, picking up half of your mental lift.

You crave his giggle when you say something stupid in the dark of the dorm before bed, his pout when he feels like he isn’t getting enough attention, you crave his voice echoing in your head long after he’s gone asleep because you heard him talk to you all day long.

You crave his lips on yours, his teeth on your neck, his hands on your body, even if you only had it once. You’ve craved it ever since.

You crave closing your eyes and pressing your forehead to his sternum, feeling safe and quiet and like you belong. You miss the sanctuary of that space, chest to chest with him, something sacred in the way it exists only for you.

You know you can’t have it - any of it. The daydream isn’t real. Your curse will be to crave it forever, alone.

When you arrive at the Shatterdome, it’s your parents who greet you just inside. For a moment, you’re happy to be back, overcome with emotion as you hug them tight. They’ve aged in these three years. You’ve missed them awfully. You only tell them the latter.

They walk with you to the Marshall’s office, where you’re meant to report upon arrival.

You hesitate, covering the moment by tugging your duffle’s strap higher on your shoulder. Your mother reads you anyway, reaching out and giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“It will be okay,” she whispers.

Your father catches on. “You’ve faced down worse,” he reasons.

You disagree. There’s no monster in the sea bigger than your love for Seungcheol, no wounding possible that could hurt more than losing him has. But you appreciate the sentiment, so you give them each a grateful nod, tell them you’ll visit after dinner, and turn to knock on the door.

“Come in,” the Marshall’s voice carries through the door, and you turn the knob and step inside.

All you see is Seungcheol; the Marshall, the office furniture, the flickering screens on the walls all snap into nonexistence in the presence of your former lover. He’s the only thing in the room that comes into focus. Everything else is just fuzzy noise.

His face wavers for a moment when your eyes meet his, the muscles rippling as he fights to get them under control.

You don’t know what reaction he’s fighting. You don’t know if he’s feeling happiness or hatred. You don’t know if he’s fighting a smile or a scowl.

You give him a quick bow in greeting, and he returns it. His face is stone, now, his mouth tight and eyes flat.

He turns to face the Marshall, to receive orders, so you do the same.

“I trust your travel went well?” the Marshall begins.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Even the single syllable of yes will come out of your mouth like gravel and dirt and sand, getting everywhere, leaving a trail.

“Your orders,” he says then, a bit of a sigh on his tone - as if he knows the uphill battle this will be, “are to reconnect as best you can. You’ll follow your old schedule. You’ll spar, you’ll meditate, and you’ll talk. After some time, we’ll try the drift again, see if the connection has recovered any.”

Seungcheol’s voice startles you when he speaks. “How long do you imagine it will be before we try?” he asks, just cold enough to have a sliver of sarcasm in it.

The Marshall’s eyes narrow, just slightly, as if he’d caught it. “That’s entirely up to you two,” he says evenly. “When you were young and hungry to fight, you trained yourselves into exhaustion. You spent every waking second trying to cultivate the bond that would carry you into your jaeger. With the same intention and drive, I imagine you could be piloting Duellona within the week.”

You fight to keep your chin up, your eyes on the Marshall, instead of ducking your head and watching the floor. The Marshall lifts his arm and glances at his watch.

“Your allotted time in Sparring Room 7 begins on the hour,” he says. This is his way of dismissing you.

In the hallway, you pause. “I’m just going to drop my bag in the dorm,” you say quietly, not looking at Seungcheol.

He gives a tight nod. “Fine,” he says, and turns to go the other way, towards the sparring and training rooms. Clearly he intends to meet you there. You heave a deep breath, and turn back towards the wing with the dorms.

Stepping into the dorm you used to share with Seungcheol hits you harder than you thought it would. You’re not sure what you expected - to feel like coming home, maybe, or perhaps to be slapped with the memories of you and Seungcheol together, dancing around each other as you hurried to get dressed for a drop, lazing around in the sitting area after a full day of training. And, of course, the single night you’d spent together.

Neither thing happens. You aren’t overcome by a feeling of nostalgia and love, nor are you inundated by memories of what you’ve lost. Instead, the room feels exactly as it is: empty and still.

Your footsteps’ echoes taunt you as you walk through the kitchen, the sitting area, and into the bedroom. It’s pristine to the point of detriment; it feels like no one lives there. You set your bag on the floor near the foot of the bed - you can unpack later, after training - and turn to go.

Strangely, it’s stepping into the training room that slams you with memory and nostalgia. The wood cool beneath your feet, the vague smell of sweat and citrus-y cleaner, the sounds of punches landing and grunts of effort from the training rooms on either side - they all cocoon you in history, making goosebumps rise on your arms as the emotions surround you.

It makes sense, you think, as Seungcheol glances over his shoulder at the sound of your arrival. He doesn’t speak to you, just swaggers to the center of the room and takes a stance you recognize from Form One. Your body leads you opposite him, muscle memory guiding you into the first form you ever learned with him. It makes sense that this would be what felt like home - your minds going empty together, your bodies following the steps in unison. The sparring forms are the closest you can get to drifting without an actual neural connection.

Well, that and sleeping together, but you don’t see that on your agenda.

You stare at him across the invisible circle between you and try to read him. His face is cold and empty, but that already tells you so much about what he’s feeling. Seungcheol was never cold with you. When you fought together he slipped into that mode you loved so much - ready to level anything, chin lifted, eyes narrowed, confident and so very strong. But it was when you were together outside the fights that you had loved him best - often pouting, lips protruding, voice lifting into a whine. And the best of all - that smile, dimples creating shadows that beg for your thumb to press them, eyes squeezing shut with happiness or laughter.

Something must show on your face, because you watch the muscles in Seungcheol’s upper body untense, as if he’d been ready to fight and recognized that you weren’t.

“I’m good,” you mutter quickly, before he can ask. It feels better to lie to him before he actually asks you, like that’s somehow less dishonest. “Let’s go.”

Form One is basic - no hits, no fancy moves. At the training center, you’d teach it to the littlest ones until they had it memorized. It was really about control and communication - precision and alignment with your partner. You had to breathe together as your feet traced opposite circles across the knots in the wooden floor. You had to rise and bend in unison. It was about watching and listening.

You and Seungcheol could - literally, you’d tried more than once - do it blindfolded in perfect step with one another. Before. You don’t know if you still can. But, now, unblindfolded, it’s too easy.

You move through forms one through six without incident - both of you flowing as easily as water.

Form Seven is the first form that incorporates actual hits and blocks. You’ll have to touch for the first time, even if it’s forearm to forearm or ankle to shoulder. You move right as he moves left, crouch and circle as his right foot flies over your head, stand and punch where you know his open hand will be waiting to stop you.

It is, and you press your fist against it for just a second before spinning away to continue the form. You ache, even as your body continues following the steps, to have him entirely again - to meet his eyes and smile the way you both used to, because you were pleased with what your bodies could do. Because you had each other, completely.

After the tenth form, you bow, turn, and walk out of the ring. You drink some water, your back to him. Years ago you’d have used this break to chat, but you don’t know what to say to him. You’re scared that he’ll shut down anything you say, whether you choose small talk or go straight for the heart of the problem, and you honestly don’t think you can shoulder his rejection right now. So you stay quiet.

After a few short minutes of rest, you return to the center of the room. This is when you’ll spar for real.

You and Seungcheol had done this for years before things went wrong. You’d long ago adjusted to how hard you should hit, how to dodge his moves, how to make this a dance as much as a fight. Now, you feel like it’s your first time again.

Seungcheol attacks as you’d expect - all offensive, pushy, succeeding in herding you backwards even as you dodge each blow. You know his goal is to flip you, and normally you can avoid that by forcing him to go on the defensive as he avoids your own hits. Simply dodging won’t be enough - eventually he’ll cage you in unless you distract him.

You throw yourself into a summersault and manage to get behind him - an opportune moment to strike. You shift your weight to follow the blow as you twist your hips to send a kick towards his unprotected head. He turns just too late - the blow will land.

You can’t do it. You freeze, your core working to keep you upright as you fight your own momentum, halting the kick inches from his temple.

You know immediately that pulling the hit was a mistake. His eyes narrow, and he sweeps his foot at the ankle you’re balancing on. You crash to the ground, heaving a breath and taking quick inventory.

You aren’t hurt. Not this time.

“Get up, Cherry,” he says darkly, moving back to the center to start again. “And don’t do that shit again.”

He comes at you full force in the next match, too. You dodge and weave, but you don’t try to strike. You know he knows it; this isn’t how it used to work. You can almost feel him get angrier as you fight, but you can’t make yourself hit back. You want him to knock you down, you deserve to take some shots.

You take two blows to the back and one to a shoulder; you fall back unsteadily but manage to find your footing and roll away from his next kick.

The match continues - you taking a handful of blows, though none with the force to level you, and Seungcheol with his lip curled in fury.

“If you’re not going to fight, then leave,” he spits.

“Would if I could,” you retort without thinking. You mean that you don’t want to be here like this - not talking, cold, at odds. But you know it reads as not wanting to be here at all.

It seems like everything you say and do only hurts him more.

“I didn’t mean -” you start, and Seungcheol takes your arms and flips you over his shoulders.

“Don’t waste my fucking time,” he says, brushing his hands together and stepping back to give you room to pick yourself up.

“Don’t curse at me,” you answer, pushing yourself to your hands and knees, pausing to catch your breath before rising fully again.

He shakes his head, rolls his eyes a little.

You hate this side of him.

You know you deserve it. For pushing him out. For leaving him here. For loving him, messing everything up, when he never asked for that.

“Seungcheol,” you say, but he ignores you, pacing a few steps and then turning to face you, lowering himself into a defensive stance, ready to spar again.

“Cheol,” you try again. “Listen to me.”

“Marshall scheduled us time to talk later,” he says flatly. “Right now we’re scheduled to fight. So fight me, Cherry. Let’s go.”

The rest of the hour continues the same. By the time it’s over, Seungcheol storms out without speaking to you, furious over every single pulled punch.

You don’t know what to do to make it all better.

You shower quickly, dressing in dry linens, and then re-emerge for the hours you’re scheduled to meditate together. You hope that maybe this will help the situation - maybe not talking will be good for you, give you a chance to feel your connection without the chance to fuck it up with words.

You’re wrong; trying to meditate together is just as desperately fruitless as sparring had been.

You can’t focus at all - can’t shift your attention to your breath, to your body, to the earth beneath you, to the energy of your partner.

Your partner is the distraction, though he sits perfectly still, eyes closed. He might as well be yelling. His shoulders are tight, his jaw still clenched. Anger radiates off him so strongly that it makes your stomach hurt, makes you want to cower from it. You can’t stop watching him, hoping you’ll see him relax, hoping you’ll see the moment that he lets go.

He doesn’t.

“Your eyes are supposed to be closed,” he murmurs, and you feel your face heat, embarrassed that he knew you were watching him.

“I can’t,” you admit. Maybe, you think, you should just be brutally honest, starting now. It’s not like you could make this worse. “I can’t stop noticing how angry -”

“Then stop pissing me off,” he snaps, eyes opening. “Just a suggestion.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” you cry, and push yourself to stand. You’re not sure why - maybe just to pace. “You never used to talk to me like this. Who are you?”

He looks at the floor, the first sign of guilt you’ve seen since you came home.

“Fine,” he finally bites back, and you know it’s as close to sorry as you’ll get. “I’ll reign it in. Sit back down.”

You shift your weight, arms crossed defensively across your chest, and close your eyes, deciding.

“Sit down, Cherry,” he repeats, and it’s gentler now. That’s what makes you cave, and you settle back across from him.

He’s less tense this time, so you eventually manage to close your eyes and count your breaths. But you’re still feeling for him, reaching for him in your mind, and coming up with nothing between you fingers. Touching him is as possible as touching the fog that used to blanket the training center, thick enough to blind you but impossible to grasp.

The pain feels like a cramp, except it’s behind your ribs instead of in your muscles. The pain grips and tightens, takes over. You want him, you want to be his again, you want to be inside these walls - where you used to fit comfortably. The fact that you’re out here, without him, aches so badly it makes you nauseated.

You want to beg him - let me in again, let me back in, let me be close to you again.

It won’t do any good, and you know it.

He was yours - you had him, you knew him, you could reach out to him and he’d pick you up. You’d taken it for granted, and you’d run away from it. You’d chosen to let it go, and now all you get is this: Seungcheol, cold and closed. Seungcheol, hating you for everything that happened.

—

Dinner is just as bad.

You go to the mess hall eager to see Wylie and Jeonghan and Seungkwan and all the other friends you haven’t seen in years. Wylie screeches like a banshee when she spots you, crossing the mess hall in a blur and hugging you so tightly that you both stagger, off balance, until Seungkwan joins the hug and rights you again.

“I missed you both so much,” you whisper, the only vulnerability anyone’s going to get out of you today.

“Then don’t leave again!” Wylie snaps, but you know the admonishment is full of love.

“I can’t promise,” you admit. Honestly, you’ve already made up your mind - you want to go back to Alaska. You’re not wanted here, not by the person who matters. What good are you, taking up a bed, if you can’t drift?

You’ve already given up hope that he’ll come around.

Seated at the table, you listen while your friends fill you in on what you’ve missed in three years - the fights in the bay, the new teams of pilots, the illnesses and injuries. You almost don’t notice Seungcheol silently takes a seat on Jeonghan’s other side, but something in you prickles, like you’ve sensed him.

The tension around the table heightens; the conversation goes a little stilted. When it’s apparent that he’s going to ignore you two seats down from him, Wylie slaps her hand flat on the tabletop.

“Come on, Seungcheol,” she scolds, and you’re sure no one wonders what she means.

His face goes dark so quickly it’s alarming. “Don’t,” he tells her darkly, one finger coming up to point at her in warning.

Her own eyes narrow and dart to her fork. Beside her, Chan’s eyes pingpong between them. He’s probably wondering if he should hold her back or join her.

“It’s fine,” you mutter, grabbing your tray and making to rise. “I’ll go.”

“Cherry, no,” Wylie protests, and then turns a glower onto your ex-co-pilot as if to say see what you did?

“It’s fine,” you repeat, standing. “I told my mom and dad I’d come by.”

You slink out before anyone else can argue.

You can’t even be mad at him - you did this by pushing him away. You hammered every last nail in the coffin by requesting to transfer. You pushed him out and you left him behind and now you have to face the reality that you can’t have him anymore. He isn’t yours, not anymore.

When you return to your dorm, he’s already in bed, the lights out. He’s facing the wall so you can only see his back, can only see the angry, tight shoulder poking out the top of the sheets. It tells you everything you need to know.

You don’t try to talk to him. You just go to bed.

—

You spend four days identically - fighting while sparring, not meditating, and avoiding Seungcheol’s ice-out. On the fifth day, your Marshall loses patience and changes your schedule. Your entire day is blocked to working on Duellona’s mainframe - buffing, repainting, greasing, and anything else you’re able to handle on your own.

“Since you can’t do anything else useful,” he adds, and you avoid Seungcheol’s eyes, ashamed.

Standing under Duellona’s unlit frame fills you with guilt. It feels like you’re letting her down, disappointing her by letting her rust here, failing your half of the bargain. You run your hands gently over the metal, finding the rough spots that need attention. Somewhere to your left, you can hear the telltale sounds of Seungcheol tightening bolts.

You work in silence for hours.

Eventually, you crack. You’re not sure if it’s the monotony of the task, the tension woven into the silence between you too, or being so close to your jaeger but unable to fight in it - maybe a combination. Something pushes at you from the inside, like a balloon trying to inflate under your skin and running out of room.

You flop backwards on the metal walkway, the grooves digging into your back. “What are we doing?” you ask, and you hear the tool Seungcheol had been using cling loudly as he sets it down.

“Following orders?” he says, stepping around Duellona’s side to look at you. “Fixing up the jaeger?”

“Fixing up the jaeger we don’t get to pilot?” you ask, sitting back up to look at him better.

“Is that what you’re here for?” he asks, the sudden ferocity of it surprising you. “To fight? Is that why you came back?”

You reach up to the walkway’s railing and pull yourself up. You feel yourself frowning at his question, at the heat behind it.

“I’m back because the Marshall gave me an order,” you say slowly.

“And that’s it?” he demands.

You stare at him. You feel sure there’s more to the question, more that he’s asking. You feel sure, after knowing Choi Seungcheol down to the last molecule, that he’s really asking, you didn’t come back for me?

And it confuses you. You try to think about your split from his perspective: you’d shut him out, then slept with him, and then vanished. You’d made a lot of assumptions about his anger since then. You assumed he was angry at you for pushing him out of your head. You assumed he was angry at you for sleeping with him and then leaving. You assumed he was angry with you for ruining your drift, for ripping him away from the ability to fight. You assumed he was angry because he never knew why - never knew what it was that you were so desperate to hide, never knew why sleeping together had made things so much worse that the neural connection had fizzled into nothing altogether.

Is there more to it, his anger?

Should you call him on it, should you ask?

You take too long deciding. Seungcheol scoffs, like he’s disgusted with you. “I should have known,” he says coldly. “Princess of the Shatterdome, I should have known you only cared about piloting - about your legacy.”

This is something you’ve never said to him - that your desire to shine as brightly as your parents has weighed on you. This is something he’d pulled from the drift, something he only knew from tiptoeing around your mind before a fight.

“That isn’t fair,” you say, your voice hard. “Is there another reason I should have come back? I’d love to hear it.”

He hears the challenge as it is - you didn’t ask me to come back, the Marshall did. You let me go.

He has nothing to say for himself, just stares back at you, eyes narrowed in anger, chest moving too quickly as he battles with his temper.

“Exactly,” you say curtly. The victory stings. It doesn’t feel like a win at all. “The bottom line is I’m here now, and we can pilot again if we can get our shit together.”

He shakes his head. “You left,” he says finally. “That’s the bottom line. You decided you were out, you decided you didn’t want me in your head, and then you left.”

He watches you, waits for you to say something. When you don’t, he lets out a derisive little laugh. “We’re both wasting our time here. The drift won’t work. We aren’t going to fix it.”

For the first time, fear slices through you like steel. “You can’t know that,” you say. You hear the fear in the way your voice comes out low and rounded, barely sounding like you at all.

“I can,” he retorts. “You know how I know? Because I don’t want to. You wanted me out of your head so badly? You got it. Can’t turn back now.”

He heads for the ladder, swings around and finds the third rung down with ease.

“So that’s it?” you ask his retreating form. Your heart is hammering and you’re starting to get tunnel vision.

The only answer he gives you are his feet hitting each new rung with a clunk and a vibration that rattles up your legs.

—

You go to the training rooms alone and run through the forms just to do something; your mind turns the problem over and over as your body goes through the motions. After, you take a longer shower than normal, letting the water run hotter than you normally would.

After, you go to the Marshall’s office, determined. Or maybe resigned.

When he opens the door, he already looks irritated, like he knew exactly who would be on the other side.

“Requesting an audience,” you say flatly, fighting the instinct to cross your arms defensively.

He glances at his watch. “Five minutes.”

You step inside but leave the door open.

“I’m requesting transfer back to Alakanuk,” you tell him as evenly as you can manage. You’re sure he’s not surprised. “Seungcheol has made it very clear that we won’t be fighting together again. If that’s the case, then I can’t do anything useful here. But in Alakanuk I can.”

You pause, looking to see if you can read anything on the Marshall’s face - any hint that he’s considering what you’re saying, or that it’s a lost cause. He gives you nothing.

“Please,” you say. “Those girls need me. If I can’t help here, I can help them.”

The Marshall tilts his head just slightly. “Surely anyone can teach little girls the forms.”

You shake your head. “It’s more than that, and you know it. It’s not about the forms. I love those girls. I came back here to follow orders, and I tried. But if it isn’t going to happen… Please, don’t make me waste time here if I can be with them instead.”

The silence when you stop speaking seems to last for hours. Your heart pounds, and you work on keeping your breathing even. If he tells you no, you might just lose it, just give up entirely.

Finally, he takes a breath and seems to consider you. “If,” he says, and your eyes widen with hope, “your co-pilot agrees, then I will reassign you back to Alaska. But only if he will agree.”

“No problem,” you say quickly. Seungcheol was the one who said it was over. He should have no problem letting you leave.

When you step out of the Marshall’s office, Seungcheol steps out of the shadows. You should be surprised to see him, but in the Shatterdome it feels right that he just is wherever you are. That’s always how it was, before.

You look at him disdainfully. “I assume you heard that conversation?”

He nods, once.

“So?” you ask. “Will you tell him you approve, so I can go?”

For the first time since you returned, Seungcheol smiles, tight and sarcastic.

“No,” he says easily, like it’s kind of funny.

Fury erupts inside you; you can’t even pinpoint where in your body it stems from. “Why?” you demand. “Because you feel like I took something from you, so you want to take something from me?”

He doesn’t respond to this. You know you’re right. You know him. You know his mind.

“I hate to fuck up your narrative,” you spit at him, “but I’ve lost out here just as much as you have. You’re not the only one who lost the ability to fight. You’re not the only one who lost their partner.”

You wish you could tell him the rest - you’re not the one who spent three years with a broken heart on top of it. He had lost you as a partner and a friend - you had lost him in the same ways, and you’d had to harbor your broken heart.

He shakes his head. “Poor baby,” he bites sarcastically, and then takes off down the hallway, into the dark.

—

You stop sleeping at the dorm. Sometimes you sleep at your parents’, sometimes on Wylie and Chan’s tiny couch, sometimes in bed with Seungkwan, who kicks at you and whines that you take up too much space. Sometimes you sleep inside Duellona Fury, sitting up, your back against her metal frame.

The Marshall seems to have taken some pity on you. He schedules your mornings training the Dome’s recruits, and lets Seungcheol get back to what he was doing in your absence - which seems to be on track to move up in rank, to maybe become a Marshall himself, someday. It isn’t quite the same as being back with your girls, but training recruits feels at least somewhat fulfilling. And it keeps you and Seungcheol busy - separately - until afternoon.

Then, he schedules you to spar.

In your first week, you’d been unwilling to hit Seungcheol. You’d been feeling guilty for hurting him, sad for your time apart, hopeful that if you were soft to him, then he’d be soft back to you.

Now, you’re fucking furious.

For the first time, when the match begins, you hit him first. He’s surprised for only a second, eyebrows shooting up as he stumbles for balance, and then you watch something delighted and devilish fall over his face. Like he knows exactly what dance this is, and he’s been learning the steps in secret.

The match is brutal, reminiscent of your very first one, when you were both nineteen. You throw hit after hit his way; he blocks or dodges all of them. But he can’t get a hit on you either - you’re too quick, spurred on by fury. You’ve been angry in a fight before. But you’ve never been angry at him.

You spin and throw up a kick, expecting his forearm to rise and block it. Instead, you knock him in the jaw.

He grunts, hand flying up to cover his mouth, and you drop your stance with a gasp.

“Shit!” you cry, hurrying closer. “I’m so sorry! Are you bleeding? Let me look.”

“‘M fine,” he mutters thickly from behind his hand, but you ignore him. For a second, things are how they used to be between you. He lets you peel his hand away, lets you gingerly turn his head this way and that, even opens up so you can check his teeth.

“You’re gonna have a fat lip,” you tell him regretfully. “But nothing’s bleeding. Teeth look okay. Anything loose in there?”

He pokes around his teeth with his pinky. “Nope.”

You take a step back, cowed. “I’m really sorry.”

He laughs a little, wryly. “I bet you feel better, though.”

You bite back a smile. “Actually…” you say, and he laughs again. You both do.

Somehow, this seems to be the thing that cracks the anger you’ve both been encased in, unable to move forward or backward. You feel melted, and you wonder if he feels freer now, too.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you say. You mean the kick, but the words land heavy.

He avoids your gaze. “I need some water,” he says, turning and heading to the side of the room.

You do the same, sitting heavily on the bench where your water waits for you.

“Hey,” he says, and you look over, brows raised in anticipation. “Tell me about Alaska.”

You can’t help but smile.

“It’s so beautiful,” you tell him. “God, Cheol, the ocean there. And the birds, and the snow…”

He’s watching you, listening, but while he listens he stands and heads to the center of the ring, settling into a starting form. With a small smile, you follow, standing opposite him. He starts an easy match that’s mostly just following the eighth form. It includes some hits and blocks, but you both do them gently, easily, circling each other slowly.

“So you liked it?” he asks. You can hear how hard he’s working to make it sound casual.

“It was so beautiful,” you admit before ducking below a kick. “But it was also… really hard.”

“What was the best part?” he asks.

You smile, block a hit. He almost gets his hands on you for a flip, but you dodge around behind him. He turns to follow you. “Weirdly, it was taking care of them outside of class. We - the instructors - we kind of their moms, away from home, you know? I’m the one who knew Yejin won’t sleep unless someone sits by her bed for a while. I’m the one that knew that Farrah and Salome only argue because they’re competitive. I’m the one that knew that Maria and Anjali don’t know their times-tables, that Ximena can’t brush her own hair, or that Iseul is allergic to fish. I loved them. I loved knowing them.”

He looks at you for a long time. “Maybe you should go back,” he says finally.

It feels like a trap.

You look at the floor, at the wall, then finally back at him. “If you’ll do this for real,” you say carefully, “then I’d rather be here. If we’re actually trying, then I don’t want to go.”

He’s quiet for a long time. Finally, he swallows hard, not looking at you.

“What was the worst part?”

There’s only one answer.

“Missing you,” you say. “Losing you.”

He manages to get both of your arms and hauls you over his shoulders. You land on your back so hard that the air is knocked out of your lungs and your eyes close protectively. For a second, you lay there panting, waiting for the pain in your back to settle down, waiting for the stars behind your eyelids to calm.

When you open them again, the ceiling coming into focus above you, the room is empty.

–

You have a hunch on where you can find him, and you head to the jaeger bay. Sure enough, he’s sitting below Duellona, knees to his chest, staring up at her.

You sit next to him and he doesn’t get up and leave, which you take as a good sign.

“I can’t do this if you’re not all in,” he tells you without looking at you. “You walked away from me once. I can’t let you back in my head if there’s any possibility you’ll walk away again. If you’re with me, I need you to be with me.”

Something prickles in the back of your head. You feel like you’re starting to realize something - the seed of an understanding is pushing delicately through the dirt, but hasn’t yet spread out its leaves under the warmth of the sun yet.

Something about his hurt. Something about why.

“I think we should try to drift,” you tell him.

This seems to startle him - he forgets to be cold, turns to look at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I can tell you how much I missed you,” you reason, “and tell you about how I spent every minute just… steeped in regret. Or we can walk through it - you can see for yourself.”

You know what you’re risking. If he gets into your head now, he’ll see it all - he’ll know everything, he’ll be able to feel for himself the depth of your loss, the height of your love.

But what’s the harm, now? You can’t lose him twice. Maybe it’ll be enough for him to realize you hadn’t left him because you didn’t care about him. Maybe it’ll be enough for his forgiveness.

Maybe then, he’ll tell the Marshall to let you go back to Alakanuk.

It’s Seungkwan you bother, since he’d been in mission control before finding his team of co-pilots. The sideways look he gives you as he walks to your conn pod is withering, but you know better than to take it personally.

You buzz with nerves. The last time you’d tried this, the neural handshake hadn’t even connected. There had just been nothing.

The second you hear neural handshake initiating, you almost sob with relief. You can’t even pay attention to the memories - Seungcheol’s memories - floating around you; you want to collapse, to press your palms to the ground and thank the universe for letting you back in.

His first memories are a breeze - the ones you’ve jogged through together hundreds of times: his first home, his school, his father’s hospital room, the Dome. Then you slow your pace, because this is new.

You’re facing the landing dock on the Shatterdome’s roof. Seungcheol stands with his back to you, watching through the glass walls as a helicopter waits, the pilot talking into his headset.

You watch yourself walk towards the chopper’s open door. You watch yourself leave, remember how hard it was to not look back.

You hadn’t known that Seungcheol had been there, that he had seen you go.

The pain that accompanies the memory hits you like you’re drowning, like it’s too deep and you can’t feel the bottom, and you feel the machinery falter around you.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “I’m with you.”

He nods, still doesn’t look at you. But the beeping stops, the connection holding.

There’s knowledge in this memory, knowledge in this pain. Seungcheol’s thoughts in this moment read in your head as clearly as if he said them aloud - I did this. I pushed her too far; I made her run.

You can’t stay here, can’t let him wallow in the memory of pain. You had to move forward - that’s how the drift works. Reluctantly you step towards the door, glancing over your shoulder to see if he’s following.

He is. His jaw is tight and fists are clenched, but he is.

When the next memory - not in order of chronology, clearly - appears before you, you want to vanish into the floor. You’re watching yourselves in Seungcheol’s bed. Thankfully, you’re sleeping - this was after. But in the memory, Seungcheol is awake, laying on his side, his eyes drinking in your sleeping form.

The emotions and the knowledge come with it in an instant. The tenderness and the love he felt in that moment surround you now in the memory, unignorable, impossible to mistake.

He had loved you. He had known you loved him, and he was showing you how he felt. The understanding slams you so hard that you think you stop breathing.

“Seungcheol,” you whisper. Around you, the scene begins to flicker, the connection starting to react to the oversaturation of emotion.

“We can talk about it after,” he says, voice hard. “Don’t stay in it. Find the next door.”

Your eyes find the door, but you feel frozen. You want the connection to drop, you want to unlock yourself from the stupid drive-suit and throw yourself into his arms, you want to apologize for leaving him thinking he’d pushed you away, thinking that he scared you into running.

“Cherry,” he warns. “The drift can’t -”

You know.

And you owe him your side of the story.

You take a steeling breath and head for the door. You don’t take his hand. You don’t know if you deserve to, if he’d want you to.

When you step through the doors, you’re confused - you’re still in your dorm. Your bodies are both in the bed.

Now, though, Seungcheol sleeps, and you - the memory of you - sits on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands.

You feel the emotion the memory holds, which means Seungcheol does, too.

Fear. It’s still fear - fear that he’ll know, fear that what you just did together will make it worse, make it harder to hide.

Beside you, Seungcheol’s eyes go wide.

“We have to move on,” you tell him. He looks at you, then back at the memory.

“You -?” he starts to ask.

“After,” you tell him firmly. “We’ll talk after.”

You open the door, and you’re suddenly outside, surrounded by white.

Alaska.

The emotion knocks you over with the fury of an ocean wave - even though you know you’re not supposed to let it. This was how you had felt every day that you were gone, and it screams at you now, determined to be heart, determined to be felt. The loneliness, the regret, the despair and heartbreak all rise up in you, overtaking you, as snow falls gently and silently around you.

And the love. That never went away. That never mellowed, as the Marshall had put it.

If he didn’t know before, he has to know now. There’s no way he couldn’t.

Seungcheol squeezes your hand, and you almost jump. You look down at your linked fingers in shock, then up at him, eyes wide.

“We should go back and talk about this,” he tells you, but his grip on you is firm, assuring.

“Okay. It’s this way,” you tell him, trying to breathe, and you lead him by the hand through the snow. The fog strengthens as you walk, until you can’t see anything but grey, can’t see anything but Seungcheol’s hand in yours.

You continue on. You know where to go. When you step through, the fog vanishes as if it was never there, nothing gradual about it. With the fog gone, you can see clearly where you are - inside Duellona Fury’s conn-pod.

As you begin to work on the straps, you call through the intercom, “Kwan? We… need some privacy. We’ve got to talk - alone.”

His voice crackles back at you. “Yes, I’m leaving, I’m already gone. If you hear popcorn crunching, no you don’t.”

Seungcheol gives you a flat look. “Let’s go home and talk,” he suggests.

Home.

You are so afraid and so hopeful. You don’t know how to juggle both.

Back in your small living space, you sit like you’re meditating.

“Let’s figure this out,” he says. “No lies.”

“No lies,” you agree. Your knees touch, and you reach to take his hands. He lets you, giving your fingers a squeeze.

“You knew,” you say first, bordering on accusation. “I was trying so hard to hide how I felt about you… but you knew.”

He nods, his eyes on you. “And you,” he says slowly, “didn’t… know? That I knew?”

You shake your head, confirming. “I didn’t know. I thought I hid it.”

He smiles at you, a little placating. “Not as well as you would have liked.”

“And you…” You chicken out, swallow, force yourself to be brave. “You… loved me, too?”

He nods. “I did.”

The air leaves your lungs so forcefully that you bend over, pressing your forehead to the tops of your hands. He pulls his hands from yours and you feel his touch, firm and reassuring, cupping your shoulders and rubbing his thumbs along them.

“We felt the same,” you echo into your shins. “You loved me.”

“Cherry,” he says above you, his voice like a plea. “I don’t understand why - when we… when I… I felt like once I forced you to look at it, it was too much. You ran.”

You sit with this for a minute, stunned and processing. His hands are back in yours, which you take as a good sign.

“You thought… wait. You thought, after that night, that I knew how you felt, too?”

He nods. “I thought you knew,” he says, confusion still present in his tone. “I thought we both knew. I thought if it was out in the open, the glitch in the drift would be fixed.”

You wipe at your face, trying to breathe. “And instead,” you realize, “we couldn’t even connect, because I was still trying to hide it from you, and then you were hurt. I thought it was broken. I thought we really broke it forever.”

He looks at you in wonder. “That’s why you left,” he breathes, and you know he’s understanding this for the first time. “You thought we made the problem worse.”

It’s your turn to nod. “After we…I mean, I knew if I couldn’t hide it from you before that night, there was no chance I’d be able to hide it after. I kept you out in the first place because I… was afraid. I was afraid for you to see how much I loved you. It seemed… hopeless to keep trying.”

The words lay bloody between you, but his grip on your hands is strong, and you take another breath.

You push on, adding, “I was afraid it would be too much. I was afraid everything would change.”

Which it did, you think. He nods, like he hears this, like he agrees.

He releases you and leans back, blowing out a loud breath. “We’re so fucking stupid,” he says, and you splutter out a laugh.

“We really are.”

“I can’t believe we lost three years over that,” he says.

“I can’t believe you thought it was your fault that I left.”

“I can’t believe you left in the first place.”

This makes you smile, guilty. “That’s fair.”

You push yourself to stand; Seungcheol mirrors you, as if you’re already in the neural handshake, bodies working in tandem.

“Cherry,” he says quietly, stepping closer. “It could never be too much. I love you. I’m crazy about you. I’m only me when I’m with you.”

You remember him, the night you’d slept together, telling you, don’t be afraid. He’d told you, after all, and you’d missed it entirely.

You close the distance between your bodies and kiss him hard. His arms circle your waist immediately, like they were waiting for you. He kisses you back hungrily. His mouth meets yours eagerly, his tongue stroking yours confidently before he shifts his attention to your jaw, your neck, then your mouth again. His hands don’t wander this time - instead he holds you so firmly it almost hurts, like he won’t let you move an inch, won’t let you out of his grasp ever again.

You cradle his face between your hands, let your teeth gently scrape along his bottom lip. “Cheol,” you whisper, then kiss him again. “You’re everything.” It’s what you should have said aloud the night you’d slept with him.

When the kiss breaks, he presses his lips to the top of your head and holds them there, melting around you a little. You give his middle a squeeze, revel in his heartbeat surrounding you like music.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I didn’t just say it.”

“Me too,” you tell him, holding him just a little tighter. “I should never have tried to hide it from you in the first place.”

He kisses your temple, and you hold each other, silently, each grappling with the time you’d wasted apart.

You’re interrupted by a knock. You break apart, puzzled. You’re even more puzzled to see your Marshall at the door, and Seungkwan literally bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

“I’ve heard your drift is working again,” the Marshall says dryly.

You look over your shoulder at Seungcheol, grinning. “Seems like it.”

“There’s a Cat-1 reading in the bay. I was about to alarm for Pretty Savage to drop, but Savage’s team insisted I give you the opportunity first. They can follow as backup. How do you feel?”

Seungcheol is at your side. He looks at you, his face open and raw. “Well?” he asks you. “Are you in, or are you out?”

“I’m in,” you tell him seriously. “I’m with you.”

You thrum with excitement as a tech team helps strap you into the drive-suits, and you can’t help but shoot Seungcheol a wild grin, your happiness alive and unbounded.

You tell mission control - Nainsi, probably, just like the old days - “Ready and aligned.”

Mission Control - definitely Nainsi - responds, “Prepare for neural handshake.”

The artificial voice bounces around you - 3… 2… 1… neural handshake initiating…

Around you, the machines flicker busily. Neural handshake strong and holding. Now calibrating…

You’re crying, but you ignore it. You beam through tears, looking sideways at your co-pilot. His eyes dance as he smiles back at you. You want to unstrap yourself to the drivesuit and go kiss his dimples, the dimples you hadn’t seen in years. You resist the urge.

“Ready to drop?” He looks sideways at you, sly.

You scoff at him, your own grin cocky and sure, like you’re twenty again, like nothing had ever been broken between you. “Been ready. Let’s light ‘em up.”

– end

thank you so much for reading!!!!

stay tuned for more fics in this universe! Wylie and Chan will get their own fic written by @sailorrhansol, as will Woozi! I'm also planning a Vernon x Reader in this universe, too! Should be a fun time!!

1K notes · View notes

smutoperator · 3 months ago

Text

Wife's Revenge

Krystal Jung "Mrs. Soojung", "Vicky" Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader

Part of Legends series

Tags: anal reluctance, ass eating, belly bulging, (lots of) blowjobs, cheater, creampie, domination, DSLs, facial, fast-paced sex, good-flavoring holes, it girls, leg-shaking orgasms, (some) lesbian, prostitutes, recording, revenge, riding, sex toys, strip club, threesome, tied-up, voyeurism, wife/mistress, wigs

Word count: 9546.

It's yet another night where you have arrived late. The days go by, and it seems like each day you get home a couple minutes later than before. Your wife rarely sees you these days, just when you go to bed and get up.

But wives know when things are unusual; they always do. And it's no different with Mrs. Soojung, your beautiful spouse that is on the verge of turning 30, and just like that, it feels like you don't want her anymore.

At this point, most wives would have already confronted their man. But Mrs. Soojung behaves differently. Either she doesn't seem to care about your late-night escapades or she's plotting something behind your back. Either way, you feel like you'll know it soon.

Your wife's birthday is coming up soon. You have to buy something for her out of appeasement at least, but your head these days is on the much younger girl you have been going out with lately.

Too bad Mrs. Soojung knows it too.

One day, without you noticing, she picks up your phone and starts texting the girl you're dating behind her back, a very young woman in her early 20s that just goes by the name of "Vicky.".

"Meet me at my place," Vicky texts you—well, your wife, actually—who exchanges messages with her and gets to see your whole story of torrid texts and even a couple dick pics in between that you sent to Vicky.

Mrs. Soojung finally arrives at Vicky's place, finding the girl that her husband was cheating on her with just chilling by her bed. She has to hold herself back. She clearly wants to smack Vicky in two pieces, but shows some restraint because she knows it's not her fault; her husband is a prick and needs to be dealt with.

"Vicky, interesting, I used to have a friend called Victoria," Mrs. Soojung says, reminding herself of the times she used to be Vicky's age. "The smell of your perfume—it's the same my husband has been carrying for months," Mrs. Soojung tells Vicky.

"I'm just a professional; they come with the money; we give them sex; I can't think about the feelings of their wives. Your husband isn't the first married man that I had as a client—far from it, actually," Vicky answers.

Mrs. Soojung is truly impressed with the way Vicky carries herself. "How old are you?" she asks. "20," Vicky answers. Mrs. Soojung is surprised. She thought she would be much older, but at such a young age, Vicky seems to be a quite mature woman.

"You know, Vicky, my birthday is tomorrow." Mrs. Soojung says. "What gift do you want? Vicky asks. "Revenge," Mr. Soojung answers.

"For the right money, I can give you that," Vicky answers.

Mrs. Soojung hesitates but pays Vicky. The sex worker already has a plan drawn up in her mind. "Meet me at the strip club tonight," she says. "Here's your wig and your carnival mask," she continued, giving Mrs. Soojung her disguise.

Mrs. Soojung celebrated her birthday with you. The gift you gave her was rather unusual—fishnets. "I think you'll look very sexy in them," you told her. Soojung seemed to agree.

"Sorry, I have to go, late business meeting," you told your wife. "I wish I could stay for your birthday," you told Soojung. "It's fine," she answered. The plan was set in motion.

Soojung knew exactly where you were going. Vicky messaged her directly. "Get ready," she texted. Vicky picked Soojung up in your house, and the two rushed to arrive at the strip club before you could get there.

"You look beautiful in this outfit," Vicky told Mrs. Soojung, who was wearing the fishnet you just had gifted her, a blonde wig slightly different from Vicky's own, glasses, and a nice lingerie. She barely had any friends, and that prostitute of all people seems to be kinder to her than any person in her circle besides her sister. Soojung still had some mistrusting about Vicky but was clearly embracing her partner-by-accident.

Vicky was the first to leave the room; the two were backstage. Loud rap music played in the club's background. Vicky was truly an intimidating presence. Her tall and skinny frame got even better when she put her high heels on and prepared herself for another performance.

You were already sitting at the strip club watching the opening performances, throwing a couple dollar bills for the girls trying to make it, until the announcement that you were looking for was made.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're proud to present another performance of the great Vicky Jang," the announcer said at the speakers. Vicky slowly climbed upstage, her high heels making loud sounds. She looked at you in the eye, took off the jacket she was wearing, and started her performance, flaunting her long legs as she made moves around the pole in the center of the stage.

Vicky's long legs were always a highlight of her performances. She sat on the floor and started spreading them in front of you. Her pussy was enticigly close, within reach of your hands. You started dropping the first dollar bills, but Vicky ignored them and just kept performing. Truly a pro, once she's onstage all she cares about is hitting her moves perfectly, and she was pulling one heck of a pole dancing before leaving closer to you as you put more bills on the stage.

Vicky's performance quickly turned into a solo show for you as she got on her knees and touched herself right in front of you. She leaned her head in your direction, showing her tall body for you, who nearly touched her mid-performance. More moves with her legs, and she climbed offstage, circling around you and then covering your eyes with her hands, before whispering some words in your ear.

"I know today is your wife's birthday, but the gift will be yours tonight," she told you.

Vicky uncovered your eyes, and a different blonde girl appeared on your sight. "Her name is Krystal," Vicky said to you. She gave you quite the welcome, pointing her high heels straight to your heart before climbing off the stage and sitting on your lap. You touched her butt and sensed the fishnets she was wearing, very reminiscent of the ones you had just gifted your wife.

Krystal and Vicky danced together on stage. It was the first time Krystal was performing at a strip club, but Vicky could tell she had some good stage presence, wondering if she had done any kind of performance before, as unlikely as it sounded for a typical housewife. Vicky climbed up the pole and went upside down, while Krystal went on all fours seducing you, before Vicky decided to pull a killer move.

Climbing down the pole, Vicky moved in your direction and wrapped her long legs around your face. You could feel the amazing smell coming out of her pussy. She was just the most beautiful woman in the world. You felt a little guilty but couldn't help but think of leaving your wife and marrying Vicky on some uninhabited island and living there with her forever.

Krystal massaged you from behind as you watched Vicky before making a move and sitting on your lap, shoving you in Vicky's direction right at the angle where the stripper's pussy touched your forehead.

Now things were going to heat up. Krystal unbuttoned your shirt, and the two started moving like crazy towards you. Both girls are ready to take on you at any second. Your heartbeat fastened like crazy. The girls took a couple pieces off their lingeries, and Krystal pushed Vicky towards your lap, where she started grinding on you. Krystal herself started grinding on Vicky and kissing the young stripper; she was so beautiful she couldn't help herself. Vicky truly activated some of her woman-loving instincts.

Krystal took the money you had left onstage and placed it on her fishnets. Her and Vicky headed backstage, plotting their next move. "He's on his knees already; it's time to attack," Vicky told your wife.

Vicky sent her friend Elizabeth to extract as much money as possible from you. "He wants to pay an extra thousand dollars to continue the session," Liz reported to her. "Not enough," Vicky responded. "Now he's offering two thousand," Liz said after another check. "We want more," Vicky answered. Krystal was truly impressed at how Vicky could easily fleece any guy; she was truly that girl.

"Five thousand," Liz then said. "Done deal," Vicky said, going back to you with Krystal. "Here's the money," you told Vicky, offering her the $5,000. "It's five thousand for her too," she said, pointing to Krystal. You were recluctant, but you just couldn't say no to Vicky. "Okay," you answered as the money was flying out of your pocket. Krystal was smiling, enjoining the way Vicky had you on your knees.

The girls began moving, kissing you as they sat around your lap; both took turns grinding on your lap as the three of you shared kisses, including some torried triple kisses. Krystal gave Vicky's butt a little spanking as the young prostitute was making out with you. The two then had a few intimate moments with each other as both of you kept tapping Vicky's butt before you couldn't resist and decided to join them again.

Krystal's bra nearly fell off as you moved more aggressively, before she decided to take it off and put up a show, making out with Vicky. "You wanna join us?" she asked. "Yes," you answered. "Then pay some more," she replied, quickly learning the teachings of Vicky.

Krystal spread Vicky's long legs and started eating the young girl's pussy. Vicky moaned softly as you kissed her and watched your wife dive in her pussy. "Eat that pussy, please," you told Krystal. As she was getting eaten out, Vicky reached into your clothed pants and caressed your cock. Krystal truly had a nice, plump ass, very fuckable, something you missed doing as Vicky had never allowed you in her ass and your wife hadn't done that in ages.

You took your cock off your pants, letting Vicky jerk it off as Krystal kept eating Vicky's pussy. Krystal quickly took notice of it and joined the young hooker. "It's so nice," she said. "We can suck it for some extra money," she continued, and you soon obliged to her demand.

Before Krystal could suck your cock, you dove into her already bare tits, sniffing and sucking them. For some reason, they reminded you of your wife, who was most likely sleeping at the moment, as the clock had already hit way past midnight. You kept kissing Krystal's tits and sucking them like a baby, prompting Vicky to also have some fun and take her bra off, allowing Krystal to grab your cock all by herself while Vicky's little tits entertained you.

Krystal sucked your cock, and you were already groaning. "Oh god," you said. You had been cheating on your wife for years and had yet to find a girl that sucked cock better than her, but now you had two, Krystal and Vicky, after searching for so long. "Damn, she's so good at this," you said to Vicky in between kisses.

"Yes, she's a longtime veteran of sucking the biggest cocks," Vicky said, praising Krystal before taking her turn on your cock herself. "You really stepped your game up after I praised your friend," you told her as Vicky made sure to give you a top-notch blowjob while Krystal had fun counting all those money bills you were leaving on their table.

"Oh fuck yes," you groaned as Vicky was hitting all the right spots. Krystal looked at her and got why that young girl had you on your knees. She was really good at that. Grabbing your balls, she added to the cock torture you had to endure, giggling as you tried to resist.

Krystal snatched your cock from Vicky's mouth and took some extra sucking of it, both girls fighting hard for that big shaft now but also cooperating a lot as Krystal handed your cock to Vicky multiple times for her to suck and bob her head all over it. "FUCK, FUCK," it was all you could scream as these two succubus drained your soul.

You laid your head on the sofa as you felt weaker than ever, while Krystal kept stroking your cock harder than ever. Vicky came in as you helped take her panties off while Krystal was devouring your dick like a demon. Vicky sat on your face as you sniffed her pussy, trying to cope with the increased pressure Krystal put on your shaft, the two kissing each other as they loved dominating you.

Vicky moaned hard as your tongue hit her folds. Krystal just kept doing what she was doing, engaging in countless deepthroats that were driving you insane. She then pushed Vicky's head against your cock, bobbing it on it as you two were now performing a 69. You pushed your hips upwards, attempting to fuck Vicky's face with the strength you had left, while savoring her pretty young pussy.

Krystal was in full control of your cock, stroking it as your tongue started to make Vicky cum; she loved the way the young girl moaned, inserting herself with some kisses between it, while never losing sight of your cock. Vicky collected some money while you turned your attention to Krystal, pulling her panties down and ripping her fishnets under Vicky's watch.

Vicky's seized the opportunity and licked Krystal's asshole. Her anus had long been a forbidden area for any stimulation, but maybe things were just being done wrong because Vicky's tongue made Krystal feel a sensation she hadn't felt in over a decade. Maybe she could open an exception for today because there was truly no bad thing Vicky could do; she was truly very skilled at eating any kind of ass.

"Ohhh fuck," Krystal moaned as Vicky kept eating her ass while strocking your cock. She nearly lost her breath as Vicky awoke her long, dormant anal folds. "AHHHHHHHH, FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK," she screamed as Vicky kept going, forcing her to turn around just not to have an anal orgasm.

Vicky showcased her talents, challenging Krystal as the two girls fought for your cock. "I want more; give me more," you told them as both licked your tip. "You want more?" Vicky asked. "Yes, I want everything; take all my money and give me everything," you answered.

"Alright baby," Krystal says, opening her legs and ripping the remnants of her fishnets as you slowly inserted your cock in her pussy. "OHHHHH, my fucking..." she moaned, unable to finish the sentence as you and Vicky teamed up and started licking her nipples. Krystal slowly bounced, getting louder and louder. It was the same cock she had been bounced on for years, to mixed results, but something about Vicky had truly awakened the beast inside her; that girl was truly incredible.

Vicky massaged Krystal's pussy as she kept bouncing it on your cock. Krystal kept moaning hard, overstimulated in a way she hadn't felt in years. "Don't stop, don't stop," you told her. And indeed, Krystal didn't stop, riding your cock faster as she slowly regained a long-lost confidence. Vicky was always by her side, helping her feel the most possible pleasure as her hands kept working on Krystal's cunt.

"Come here," you told Krystal, making her wig and mask nearly fall off and almost ruining her disguise. But she stayed put and took the maximum pleasure possible from your cock. Krystal kissed you and let you pound her in a pearly gates position, wondering why you had never tried it with her in bed. "Does he only try those kinds of positions on prostitutes?" she thought.

"JESUS CHRIST, AHHHHHHH," Krystal screamed as the teamwork between your cock and Vicky's hand put her closer to a huge orgasm. "AHHHHHHHHH, FUCKKKKKK," she kept screaming. "Come on, slut, bounce on that," you dared her. Krystal accepted the challenge and did just that. "YES, YES, YES, YES," Krystal kept moaning. It was the same cock that had fucked her for years, but Vicky's presence in that room had turned things in a way she could never expect.

Krystal explodes in a massive orgasm as she closes her legs and coats your cock full of juices. "Come eat that pussy from my dick," you invite her, but Krystal is so out of breath it's Vicky who takes the prize all by herself. Krystal instead makes a rather unusual decision, licking Vicky's ass, trying to counter pleasure with some disgust.

But damn, she was very wrong.

As Krystal's dive into Vicky's ass, a beautiful scent of roses penetrates her nostrils. "Wtf is that? Assholes are supposed to be dirty," she thinks. But Vicky is nothing like the regulars; she's a truly special girl.

Vicky keeps sucking your cock as Krystal shoves her ass in your face for her to eat her asshole out. What started as some rare moment had truly turned into a kink. You obviously happily took it; after all, if your wife never lets you eat her ass but a prostitute happily does it, then good for you.

"Seems like you really want to sit on that dick the way you're sucking it," you tell Vicky. "Of course," she answers, staying with it in her mouth all the time. Shortly after, Vicky sits her tight young cunt in your cock.

"Let me see, let me see." Vicky is already begging for your cock as she adjusts it into her entrance. "Wow, that's so hot," Krystal tells her as they kiss each other. Vicky lets out a soft moan as Krystal licks her neck, beginning her bounce on your cock.

"That's right, use that cock," you tell Vicky as she starts riding that dick. Her slow ride is like poetry in motion, her hitting the perfect spots on your cock while sharing kisses with Krystal under the lights of the strip club.

"Yeah, yeah, come on, keep going," you tell Vicky as she increases her pace, her riding getting sexier and sexier, while she keeps kissing Krystal at all moments. Krystal then drops down, kissing you and letting Vicky ride your cock all by herself, her moans getting louder and echoing all around the club.

Vicky now bounces really fast, prompting you to thrust upwards to meet her bounces. "Yeahhhh," she moans. "Twerk that ass on my cock," you tell her, and she does it perfectly, with an amazing pace that drives you nuts, Krystal looking at her eye to eye and getting quite impressed by her riding skills despite Vicky being very young.

"OH YES YES YES YES YES YES," Vicky says in a fast way that is nearly in sync with her bounces. She giggles, stretching her long arms into your torso and making sideways moves that get your cock throbbing even harder, before beding herself in the direction of Krystal's pussy and eating it out, allowing you to push up her cunt while she eats Krystal's.

"I love this; give me the taste of it, you way, letting Vicky ride you while she eats Krystal, and then kisses you to taste Krystal's amazing ice cream-flavored pussy while never ceasing to bounce up and down that big cock. "Come on, come on," you encourage Vicky as she rides you like a baddie.

Vicky is truly amazing and is exactly her energy that brings the best from you and Krystal; her licks in the other stripper's pussy making her moan hard and putting her on the verge of cumming; her bouncing on your cock making you feel blessed to have such an amazing girl to please you.

"AHHHHHH, AHHHHHHH, OHHHHHH," Krystal starts moaning as she pushes Vicky's face into her cunt, ready to explode at any second. Despite being buried on it, Vicky remains calm and collected, keeping a steady pace as she pleases your cock. "That's it, baby, come earn your reward and suck that dick," you tell her, leaving Krystal by herself to enjoy her moaning orgasms while Vicky tastes her cherry-flavored pussy from your cock.

But Krystal doesn't want you to give your whole attention to the young stripper, sitting on your face as she gives her pussy for you to eat out. The two girls now battle to see which one you like the most, but you just enjoy the ride and let them duel without giving them any clues over who's winning.

Both girls show why they are such great professionals, Vicky bobbing her head hard on your cock while Krystal grinds her folds on your face at a great pace. There isn't a second you don't go without being overwhelmed by these two beauties, panting and moaning all the time trying to survive.

"Licky my balls," you order to Vicky while Krystal jumps on top of you, takes your shaft in her mouth, and performs a 69. "Yeah, yeah, like that," you tell them, the girls sucking the soul out of you like a pair of crazy succubus. "This is so good; I feel so lucky having two girls fighting for my fucking cock," you tell them.

Krystal gets on her knees on the couch, allowing you to put your cock back in her pussy. Vicky gets by her side, and they kiss each other. "OH GOD," Krystal moans as you push your cock hard into her pussy without any breaks, grabbing her waist to take her at a fast pace, as she clings to Vicky to take the pounding you give her, but not without lots of moaning. Vicky kisses you and leaves Krystal all by herself, screaming. "AHHHH, AHHHHHH, YEAHHHHH, YEAHHHH," she says, her eyes rolling as you spank her butt.

As Krystal quickly gets out breath, Vicky quickly takes her pace, getting fucked similarly, but she's the one that advances into Krystal as you take your cock deep inside her, kissing the other strip in perfect sync with your thrusts, slowly lowering her head to eat Krystal out, giving amazing orgasms to her and making her moan all over the couch, as Krystal closes her eyes and her nipples get more and more erected while Vicky buries her face in her cunt.

Vicky looks at Krystal while you pump her hard, making the other stripper cum while her pussy gets stretched out. Krystal gets on top of Vicky's butt and licks get pussy as you keep fucking her, taking a couple turns to lube your cock with Krystal's mouth. "Lick that asshole while I fuck her pussy," you tell Krystal, who obliges and slowly starts falling in love with the taste of Vicky's butthole.

"Good girl, now suck it and clean that cock," you tell Krystal. "Look at you, such a beautiful and fuckable ass," you tell Vicky as you spank her butt and keep fucking her, kissing Krystal in a way that makes you remind of your wife. You then grab Vicky's hair. "Come here," you tell her, pushing her face into Krystal as they keep kissing each other and fucking her like an animal, making her cheeks clap hard and her legs work hard.

"Come back," you tell Krystal, letting her bounce on your cock while Vicky suck her fellow stripper's tits. "OHHHHH," Krystal moans loudly but accepts the challenge of bouncing on your big cock, even if it quickly leaves her getting out of breath. You put her body on the floor, switching to a piledriver position that allows for very deep penetration. "OHHHHH, OHHHHH, OHHHH JESUS CHRIST," Krystal screams as she is now upside down, you and Vicky looking from above at a very dominating spot while her back gets pressed to the floor at each pounding you give her.

"Let me work that fucking pussy, you slut," you tell Krystal. Vicky comes in, and Krystal learns about her magic hands. "OH FUCKKKKK!" she screams as soon as Vicky places her hands on her clit. You end up having mercy for Krystal, as she can barely stand a couple minutes in that position, switching your attention back to Vicky for another round of bouncing.

Krystal rims your asshole trying to get back on her senses after such a crazy pounding, while Vicky entertains herself using your cock as her playground. Krystal looks from above, amazed and trying to understand how such a young girl can be such a pro at dickriding, taking your big cock like nothing and pulverizing it as she impales herself on it. She looks at her cheeks and just watches your cock disappear between them, licking your balls as her admiration for Vicky only grows.

"FUCK, FUCK," you say as Vicky once again pushes you to the edge. You instincively spank her ass, but it amounts to nothing; Vicky just devours your cock, and her ride only gets more insane. "OH SHIT!" you scream as one of her bounces gets close to snapping your cock in half.

In the end, you have to shove Vicky to the side just not to cum, turning your eyes back into Krystal. "That's way too much," you tell Vicky, who just laughs. Krystal chimes in and sucks your cock, getting to know better of the cherry-like flavors of Vicky's pussy.

"Let me see you lick that pussy," you tell Krystal as she gets on her knees and eats Vicky out while you jerk off to the scene. Vicky opens her mouth wide and moans, enjoying the way Krystal attacks her folds. You really like the curves of Krystal's body and her well-shaped butt, enhanced as she's in primed position to get taken from behind.

"I love the way you lick that pussy," you tell Krystal. "YEAHHHH, YEAHHHHH," a trembling Vicky screams as Krystal keeps licking her. "Look at her face, so slutty, she is really enjoying it," you say. Your words encourage Krystal, who pushes further and dives her fingers into Vicky's wet fuckhole, thrusting them as if she had a strap attached to herself and pounding the young prostitute until her hands are completely covered of Vicky's juices.

"Don't hide her face; I wanna see her moans," you tell Krystal, who gets back down and dives back to eat Vicky out. You watch both and increase the pace of your masturbation, getting closer and closer to cumming. You can't resist the urge of Krystal's fuckholes staring at you and pushing your cock back in her pussy, fucking her as hard as you can and burying her face all the way down Vicky's vagina.

"Open your legs, Vicky, let me watch her lick your pussy," you command as you increase the pace against Krystal. The heat of her tightening cunt gets you even closer, as both girls are now moaning messes ready to explode at any second. Vicky stretches her feet as you lick them while pounding Krystal hard and making her beg for god, giving her hard spanks in her butt.

You push Krystal to the side and decide to lead Vicky to an orgasm yourself. "AHHHHHH, AHHHHHH, AHHHHHHH," she screams as if a baby is being expelled from her womb. As if this wasn't enough, you take your cock back in her pussy and pound it. Vicky just opens her legs and moans, Krystal coming from behind and stroking your shaft as you pound Vicky hard.

"Come on, come on, come on, suck it," you use Krystal's mouth as you lube your cock to fuck Vicky. Krystal jumps over and kisses the young stripper, and then you enjoy the animalesque way you two have sex. You switch back to Krystal, opening her legs and groping her tits, her clinging to Vicky not to let out loud moans as her nipples get even more erect. Very out of breath, her walls clench around your cock, forcing you to hold back, not to cum.

"Get down," you tell them, actually showing where you want to cum, jerking off your cock until you bust right at Krystal's face. Her face painted white while she swapped your sperm in her mouth with Vicky, and then taking your money home was the last thing you remembered before someone came from behind and knocked you uncounciously.

As you regain your sight, you find yourself blindfolded and unable to move your body. Your hands and legs are tied up to a chair. "Help me, help me, please," you say. "Please," you keep going. You can hear a pair of lips touching each other and kissing; wonder who is beside you. A pair of hands take your tie off.

"Show me, take control of him," a girl's voice says. Shortly after, you get smacked in the face, still blindfolded. "That's so funny," the woman who slapped you says. "Who's in charge now? Not you. Who's the boss? Not you," the woman says. "I'm so sick of your cheating ways," she continues.

You can recognize your wife, Mrs. Soojung's voice, but who's the other girl beside her? Why are they doing this? "Ohhh, baby, don't cry," Soojung tells you, enjoying the punishment she gives you. I guess that's what she wants for her birthday—punishing you after finding out you were with two girls at a strip club.

Soojung keeps giggling as she slowly starts taking your shirt off. Both girls massage your torso and spank it. The other girl rubs her little tits against you, making you wonder if you hadn't touched them yet; they surely feel familiar. "Tell us how nice they are," Soojung yells at you, as she also shoves hers down your mouth for you to lick before spanking you again for daring to do so.

"You're all yours; come with us," Soojung tells you as she keeps spanking your torso. The other girl films you as you stay tied to the chair. "I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you like a demon; punish you for cheating on me with those prostitutes," Soojung keeps saying. "Kiss her," the other girl demands as Soojung pushes you closer to her lips before spitting in your mouth.

Both girls kiss each other in front of you. "Kiss my ass, you worthless cheater," Soojung demands, and you oblige, kissing the clothed fabric that covers her butt. Soojung starts grinding on your lap, making your erection start to build up again. "Enjoy it and appreciate her," the other girl tells you. Soojung reaches with her hands, rubbing your cock while her tits rub against your torso.

"Don't you want this? Filming a fucking sex tape with your wife on her birthday?" the other girl asks, pointing the camera she's holding towards Soojung and you making out. You giggle, thinking it is indeed quite hot. "I've been waiting to do this for a long time," Soojung tells you. "But you never said that before," you reply to her.

Soojung pulls your pants down. "Look at how hot she is; oh wait, you can't see her," the other girl pranks you. Your cock comes up already throbbing from your underwear, with Soojung's fellow partner in crime coming to suck it first, giving you a sexy blowjob that also doesn't feel unfamiliar to you, but you, dumb as a rock, can't recognize where it comes from. Soojung then takes her turn, bobbing her head hard on your cock without using her hands.

"Perfect, lick it like an ice cream," the other girl says as Soojung savors the tip of your cock. She closes her eyes and enjoys every second of it while the other girl keeps filming it. "Tell her how good she sucks your cock," the girl demands of you, just as Soojung pulls of a crazy deepthroat.

"Do you love that?" the other girl asks. "Of course," you tell them. "I didn't hear it, louder," the other girl tells you, bobbing Soojung's head against your cock. "I love it," you answer just as the other girl now massages your balls and tries to edge you to the fullest.

"Oh fuck, fuck," you groan as the other girl takes your cock deep in her warm mouth. Her dick sucking lips push your cock to the limit, you having to push as hard as you can just not to cum at the spot. "You know it feels good, doesn't it?" Soojung asks. "I don't think I'll be able to resist," you tell her. "Poor boy," she replies, giggling.

The other girl finally takes your blindfold, and you recognize her at the spot, even though her blonde wig she usually wears is not there but rather her natural brunette hair. "Vicky?" you say shorlty after looking at your wife and wondering how she found out. "Wait, that stripper, Krystal, was you all along?" you ask your wife.

"Such a dumb boy, isn't he?" Soojung laughs as she asks Vicky. "Also, you can call her by her real name now, Jang Wonyoung, while you can call me Krystal now; since you had so many encounters with her, it seemed like she was your wife and I was your prostitute," a mad Soojung tells you.

Krystal deepthroats you again, showing she wasn't being out of character when she did it multiple times at that strip club. Wonyoung had made Krystal discover her long-lost potential of being a slut, and now she was going to unleash it to the fullest, like the angry wife that she was. Wonyoung spat on your dick and kept making Krystal push harder and harder, your wife answering every single call from that baddie slut.

Wonyoung and Krystal team up to suck the tip of your cock, making you have flashbacks from your time at the strip club, their tongues sending you over the moon as they run all over your veiny cock, giggling and enjoying edging you as hard as they can while kissing each other. Krystal then gets on all fours and lets Wonyoung lick her asshole while trash talking you. "Her tongue is so amazing in my ass. Why can you be as good as her licking my ass?" she asks.

Krystal moans loudly as she dives to suck your cock further while Wonyoung keeps licking her ass. As you three engage in that oral train, for the first time in years, Krystal thinks of having your cock inside her ass, given the amazing work Wonyoung's tongue is doing with it and making her desire for further anal stimulation, despite her longtime reluctance.

"A cunt massaging another," Krystal says as Wonyoung reaches lower and puts her fingers in your wife's pussy. "You got it right, I'm a cunt, and your husband is a massive asshole," Wonyoung replies. The chemistry between her and Krystal is unmatched; the two hardly have met each other, but Krystal loves how Wonyoung is able to pick the perfect spots in her body and stimulate her better than you ever could over all these years.

More and more, Krystal opens herself up for Wonyoung's touch, letting the young girl eat her out wonderfully. Krystal always enjoyed those kinds of lesbian fantasies but rarely let other girls eat her out, with a few exceptions such as her sister or Amber, which are very much part of her innermost circle. But that unknown girl was doing such wonders to her body that she didn't hesitate, letting Wonyoung's tongue run wild over her clit and make it squirt in front of you.

"Are you enjoying the show, baby?" Krystal asks you. "Look how sexy her tongue looks licking my beautiful pussy," she continues, praising Wonyoung at any chance she gets. "I think I'll become a lesbian; her tongue is so much better in my pussy than your cock," she continues, keeping the trash taking going. "And you can't do anything to stop it, baby, all tied up and just watching my cunt squirt all over her pretty face," Krystal continues.

"OH FUCK YES, YES, YES, DON'T YOU FUCKING STOP," Krystal moans as Wonyoung does her magic with her tongue, putting your wife on the verge of cumming and gushing all over her face while you can just watch. "AH, AH, AH, AH," Krystal moans loudly in a way that she hadn't done to you in a while. "You know what? I think she earned a reward," she says.

Krystal takes Wonyoung's panties off and dives to eat her pussy. She gets marveled at Wonyoung's incredible taste, quickly getting addicted the deeper she takes her tongue in the young girl's cunt. Wonyoung looks at you and sees you're jerking off to the scene. "You love watching it, slave," she tells you. The girls are soon scissoring each other and moaning very loud, leaving you in awe as their juices get the wooden floor incresingly slippery.

Krystal finger-fucks Wonyoung's cunt and teases her. "Do you want my husband's cock fucking you like that?" your wife asks her. "YES, PLEASE, DON'T STOP, EAT MY PUSSY LIKE THE FUCKING BITCH I AM," Wonyoung answers screaming, loving the quick but soft touch Krystal's fingers provide. Your wife goes crazier and crazier, putting Wonyoung's body on your lap while she eats her out and making your cock rub against the young girl's soft skin.

"Tell him where my tongue is," Krystal asks Wonyoung. "In my ass, I love it," Wonyoung says. Slowly but surely Krystal was opening up to kinks that she used to refuse, all because Wonyoung was so incredible she felt wrong for not using her to the fullest, getting enamored by the young girl and treating her like an it girl of sex.

Wonyoung shakes her ass cheeks as Krystal dives her tongue between them. It was what your wife needed to be fully convinced. She starts spanking the young girl's butt and gets more and more in love with it, shoving her middle finger up Wonyoung's anus just to hear her beautiful moans, and then pulling out to taste it. "Damn, this is the tastiest butthole I've ever seen," she says. "You know what it deserves for tasting so good? To sit on my husband's dirty fucking cock," she continues.

As soon as she gets Krystal's authorization, Wonyoung climbs on your lap, taking your cock up her ass in one go. The loud moan she lets out makes Krystal believe she won't be able to take it, just like she hasn't in many years. But that's not the case; far from it.

"OH FUCK!" Wonyoung screams as your massive cock impales her ass, but she's determined to bounce as fast as she can. Krystal watches her as a mix of both a motherly figure and a curious woman learning from a young slut. She can't resist and grabs Wonyoung's cheeks, pushing your cock deeper and faster up her tight asshole. Wonyoung moans are loud, but her determination to take your cock trumps everything else.

"FUCK IT, FUCK IT, FUCK IT!" Krystal screams as she spanks Wonyoung's butt, but the more she does it, the harder Wonyoung rides it. Maybe it's her young age; maybe she does it every night, but what a crazy rider Wonyoung is. Krystal had caught a glimpse of it at the strip club, but that was with her pussy; it turned out she could do both holes with ease and destroy any cock that goes inside of them with extreme ease.

"I wanna taste it," Krystal says, pulling your cock out and savoring the best flavor she had ever tasted from it. Good lord, how does Wonyoung's ass smell so good? Your wife was truly impressed; no wonder you were so addicted to cheating on her with that Vicky girl.

"I love how you enjoy tasting my asshole," Wonyoung tells Krystal as she resumes bouncing on your dick. Krystal now just watches; you're getting very sweaty as the young girl puts you on the edge. Krystal frees you from the chair, allowing you to carry-fuck Wonyoung while she licks your balls under both of you. "I FUCKING LOVE IT, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME," Wonyoung screams.

"OH, OH, OH, OH OH, FUCK, YES, YES, YES," Wonyoung moans as she starts orgasming. You put her on the couch and keep fucking her ass under a mating press while she grabs a sex toy and uses it to stimulate Krystal's own butthole, before Krystal takes it by herself and creams herself watching you fuck Wonyoung on the couch, but feeling a little jealous as it seems like your escapades with the long-legged girl have allowed you to build some quite good chemistry with her.

Krystal squirts herself as you choke Wonyoung before coming in to sit on the pretty girl's face, offering her pussy as a relief to the poundings you give her. "Can I taste more of it?" Krystal asks you, who obliges, but a little mad you're forced to pull out of Wonyoung's tight asshole, unleashing your fury against your wife's throat and pounding it relentlessly, way faster than you did to Wonyoung's ass.

Krystal gets really slutty, taking the poundings in her throat like a champ and licking your cock every time you take a break. Wonyoung eater her pussydown low, making your wife feel in heaven as you treat her like your bitch and clean your cock in her face. "More, more, more," Krystal demands, as just like the more she spanked Wonyoung, the faster she went, the faster you fuck her throat, the more she wants you to keep going.

Krystal finishes the facefucking session spitting on your cock and letting Wonyoung handle it for a bit as she lets you fuck her face and slap your cock against it, but not for long. "Put your cock in my fucking pussy right now," an intimidating Krystal orders, leading you to bring your fun with Wonyoung to an instant halt.

"YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH," Krystal screams as you pound her pussy while she's on top of the couch. Wonyoung adds extra stimulation, grabbing the toy Krystal was entertaining herself with and shoving up your wife's anus. "Keep going, baby, fuck that pussy, such a dirty fucking boy, aren't you? Going from her asshole straight to my cunt," she says.

You and Wonyoung compete to see who can fuck Krystal the fastest. Either way, both of you know she's gonna cum at any moment, so it's a win-win situation; you can claim it was your cock that gave her pussy an orgasm, and Wonyoung can claim she gave Krystal an anal orgasm with the sex toy. "Stuff both those fucking holes," Krystal demands from both of you as she receives a triple kiss.

"FUCK THAT PUSSY, FUCK HER HARDER," Krystal gives the command to you, who keeps pushing. It clearly seems your cock is losing the battle to Wonyoung's sex toy, so you just decide to put an end to it, pushing Krystal down the couch and obliterating her cunt like she was some hentai character that only existed to be a fuckhole. Wonyoung helps you by sitting on your wife's face and squirting all over Krystal's mouth, letting you use her wife as much as you can while her moans get muffled by the young girl's ass.

As you pick up the pace you pound Krystal's used-up cunt, you enjoy how much your cock bulges under her magnificent abs. It was a view that you loved every time you fucked her, but that had gotten rarer and rarer, but the sexy passionate missionary position you fucked her cunt in that couch was perfect for it to pop out again, with you toying with Krystal's insides and poking your cock in different angles at each thrust you gave her, particularly enjoying the ones that landed with the tip of your cock right at her belly button.

You pound Krystal like a fucktoy, watching her moans grow louder and louder and unable to get silenced under Wonyoung's ass. That's how it's supposed to be. She was probably finally telling you to go easy on her, like she did many times over those years, but this time you couldn't listen, so the louder she moaned, the harder you abused her cunt. But boy, you were really wrong.

"FUCK HER HARDER," Krystal says as she frees her mouth from Wonyoung's grinding pussy just for a second. Damn, when did your wife turn into such a slut?, you ask yourself, but after gathering your thoughts, fuck Krystal just like she wants it: hard, fast, strong.

"Let's make her fucking pussy cum," Wonyoung says, stretching her long arms right into Krystal's pussy. You follow suit, and both of you massage your wife's clit. Krystal starts growling before she announces. "I'M FUCKING CUMMING," Krystal says. "Then cum for me," Wonyoung replies, grabbing Krystal's beautiful face and kissing it just as Krystal lets out a massive geyser of squirt out of her cunt that surprises you, and so does Wonyoung, proud of the work her hands did on Krystal.

Krystal slides down the couch, her body rubbing against Wonyoung's as she reaches an orgasm that leaves her shaking on the floor. In spite of that, you just keep pounding her like she's just a sex doll built to give you the maximum pleasure. You push Krystal's body back up the couch, closing her legs by bringing them together and resuming fucking her pussy while Wonyoung puts her big hands in your wife's clit, you two doing the perfect teamwork to give Krystal the most shaking orgasms known to mankind. Her body trembles from head to toe, but you two just don't stop.

"Make that pussy cum, make that pussy cum," Wonyoung commands as you stay fucking Krystal. The young girl brings her massive Hitachi vibrator and puts it right in your hands to massage Krystal's increasingly throbbing clit, while letting your wife's moans echo through her tight pussy as she gets back to sitting on Krystal's face.

"USE THOSE TWO MAGIC WANDS TO MAKE ME FUCKING CUM AS HARD AS I CAN, FUCKKKK." Krystal screams as her face turns red, and she's nothing but a host of intense orgasms that would make the weakest girls beg for mercy. But Krystal isn't like other girls; she's a legend, an it girl, and they are built different; they are once-in-a-generation girls that can perform the most mind-blowing sex known to men.

"DON'T STOP, JUST FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME," Krystal begs. "Fuck her harder; look how much she wants it," Wonyoung orders to you. "Give me that cunt," Krystal says, pushing the young girl's pussy against her face to cope with the heat your cock and the Hitachi provide against her own's. "You fucking love that, don't you?" Wonyoung brags.

"OH MY GOD, THAT'S SO FUCKING GOOD YESSSSSSSSSS," Krystal says as she explodes in another orgasm just as you give her ass another spank. She says a bunch of unrecognizable words, just having enough forces to stick her tongue out as if she had taken a massive electric shock, while Wonyoung grinds her pussy in her face. Her eyes only see a red light, her teeth ache, and the four walls of her pussy clench to unbelievable levels of tightness.

An exausted Krystal finishes her orgasm, but she still has strength to deliver the next order. "Fuck her pussy," she says in a commanding voice, pushing you to spread Wonyoung's long legs and take the plunge against her tight walls again. "You know what? Fuck her ass, fuck any of her holes," Krystal adds, grabbing the Hitachi and putting it in her clit just as she sits on the couch right above Wonyoung's pretty face.

"Squirt all over my face; cover it with your juices," Wonyoung tells Krystal with a smile as your cock finds her way into her pussy. You choke the young girl and treat her like your next toy, all under your wife's watch, the juices coming out of Krystal's pussy telling if you succeeded or failed in the quest she gave you.

"You're such a good boy; look at how much you love fucking my tight pussy," Wonyoung says as you two are now face to face. "OHHHHH FUCKKKKK," Wonyoung moans as you give her long legs some slapping. Krystal stays fixated, masturbating herself to the scene, showing her approval as her cold juices leak out of her cunt and land on Wonyoung's body, making the youngest moan again.

"Open your mouth, open your fucking mouth," Krystal orders as she delivers another squirt shower in Wonyoung right at it. You go harder, wishing for your wife to pull out another squirt show like that. But Krystal had different plans.

Krystal flips Wonyoung around and pushes the young girl's butt upwards. "Fuck my ass," Wonyoung commands, doing exactly what Krystal intended her to do; these two have indeed great chemistry. With just one leg on the ground, Wonyoung takes your anal pounding, while Krystal sucks her perky tits and spits on her face. "Fucking slut, you can't resist my husband's cock, can't you?" Krystal asks.

Wonyoung can't even answer, as Krystal just shoved her hands to massage the young girl's cunt while you fucked her ass. Every time you take a break from fucking her butt, Krystal comes in to bob her head on your cock, confirming her addition from Wonyoung's tasty butthole now runs rampant. " is all she can say. Every time you take a break from fucking her butt, Krystal comes in to bob her head on your cock, confirming her addition from Wonyoung's tasty butthole now runs rampant. As you keep fucking Wonyoung, Krystal, let's the young girl use her sex toy in her own ass.

"Fuck me, please fuck me, AHHHHHH," Wonyoung screams while Krystal herself moans hard with the Hitachi and the sex toy plugged in her holes. Your balls smash Wonyoung's throbbing clit as you take turns between her ass and pussy now. Krystal plugs a larger dildo on Wonyoung's mouth and connects it with her own pussy as both of you turn the young girl into the source of all of your pleasures. "Dirty little fucking bitch," Krystal says about Wonyoung as you shove her face into Krystal's pussy while fucking hers even faster, Krystal incorporating the jealous wife character to the fullest and spitting on Wonyoung multiple times.

Wonyoung and Krystal cum together as your cock and the dildo provide the pleasure they need, both sharing the ends of it in their mouths. But then you come with a surprise.

You put Krystal on all fours and tell her something you hadn't done in years. "I'm gonna fuck this ass," you say, spanking her butt. "If you shoved a couple toys on it, you can take my cock too," you continue. But to your surprise, Krystal this time gives you a very different answer.

"Yes, yes, please fuck my ass," she tells you. Watching you fuck Wonyoung's butt really turned her on. It's been nearly 7 years since she last took a cock in her ass, but now she's finally ready.

You shove your cock in Krystal's ass at the same time Wonyoung shoves the dildo in her pussy. "Fuck yes," Krystal moans, the prospect of getting double-stuffed by a cock and a dildo being very enticing to her. Wonyoung uses her spit to make both instruments slide easier into Krystal fuckholes. "YES, PLEASE, YES, FUCK ME," Krystal begs as she turns into an ultrawhore. "That's so fucking hot," Wonyoung says.

Krystal is all smiles as your cock pounds her ass. Maybe it's Wonyoung's presence, but her fears regarding anal sex seem to be completely gone. "That cock is so fucking good in my ass," she tells you. Wonyoung takes the dildo out, giving you free reign to pound your wife's tight asshole. "FUCK IT, FUCK IT, FUCK IT," Krystal begs as Wonyoung adds more spit and massages your wife's cunt, making her scream very loud in a way that can be heard way beyond the four walls of your house.

"Make her fucking cum, fucking make her cum," Wonyoung says, switching the order of a few words. Indeed, you do just that, making Krystal explode with her first anal orgasm in nearly a decade. "YES, YES, YES, MORE, MORE, MORE, FUCK ME HARDER, FUCK THAT ASS, DESTROY IT, PLEASE," she screams as Wonyoung spanks her butt and licks her anus at the same time your cock obliterates it. "FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM AGAIN," Kyrstal says as she squirts all over the couch.

"Let's clean this cock together," Krystal orders to Wonyoung, eager to have a taste of her own asshole after so many years. And damn, she had forgotten how good she tasted. "Wow, it's better than mine," Wonyoung says, complimenting your wife. The two it girls with good-smelling anuses polish your knob to the fullest, each girl licking one side of your shaft while taking turns to dive balls deep down your erection from time to time.

Krystal proves to be a kind wife, pushing Wonyoung to get her face fucked and taste more of your wife's perfect asshole. "You taste so amazing," Wonyoung says again as your balls get engulfed in her mouth and your cock impales it like a massive sword, Krystal making sure to push it harder until she makes Wonyoung gag.

"Looks like you like my asshole a lot, you fucking cunt," Krystal says. "Now how about my cunt, since you're also one?" she continues. "Wanna taste my cream-filled pussy?" she asks Wonyoung. "Of course," the young girl answers.

"Come here, both of you, please me," Krystal orders, getting herself on all fours and pushing your cock back in her pussy while she shoves Wonyoung's ass in her face to get turned on by the smell of her butthole. You take your wife's cunt hard from the start, her walls clenching further as Wonyoung's smell invades her nostrils. You spank Krystal's butt and drive her away from Wonyoung's ass, but no problem; she just stretches her hands right into the young girl's cunt.

Krystal gets her cunt hammered like it hasn't been in a while, you using her pussy as a jerkoff hole, you two trading spankings between butts, you on Krystal, her on Wonyoung. "Eat my ass," Wonyoung demands, Krystal getting double the pleasure once again.

"This is the hardest you can fuck me? Come on," Krystal says, daring you to push the pace even further. You do it just like that, attacking her pussycat at full speed. "Fuck me harder, give it to me," Krystal keeps pushing, her cheeks getting clapped hard at your increasingly fast thrusts.

You go full animalesque on Krystal, grabbing her hair and pushing her body onto the couch, prone-boning her as her face lands on Wonyoung's butt and uses it as a pillow, absorbing the crazy poundings you give her. She gets used like a fleshlight, and you are not caring how used up her pussy will be after it or whether she can walk afterwards; all you wanna do is destroy your slutty wife like she never had the chance for you to do before.

"Take his fucking cock, take his fucking cock," Wonyoung demands as Krystal gets absolutely destroyed. "AH, AH, AH, AH," it's all Krystal is able to scream, and soon her screams are joined by yours.

"FUCK FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM," you say. Seconds afterward, you fill your wife's pussy to the brim. Krystal remembers she's not on the pill, but it's too late. Your birthday gift to her will most likely be a baby. But in the end, she actually enjoys it, digging it to feed Wonyoung and thank her.

"Thanks, Ms. Jang; without you, this wasn't possible," Krystal tells the young girl. "I'm thankful too, Mrs. Soojung," Wonyoung replies. "You can call me anytime; by the way, you can just call me Wonyoung; I prefer it that way," she says, leaving.

The next day you wake up, it seems like finally your marriage with Mrs. Soojung will be restored back to the early days, until you receive devastating news from your wife's mouth.

"I'm filing for divorce," she says.

"Why?" you ask her.

"Do you really need to ask?" Krystal replies.

"But we had a great night tonight," you tell her.

"Not really, you only tried because of that Vicky girl, without her, all you can give me is very boring and vanilla sex," Krystal says.

"I promise to do better," you tell her.

"Empty promises, well, things will be easy for me; Vicky recorded everything we did last night in that room," Krystal says.

"Damn, this was all a trap, wasn't it?" you say.

"Dumb boy, like always, I just wanted to use you and take revenge for your cheating antics," Krystal replies.

Indeed, Krystal already had a new partner for herself.

"Hi," she said as Wonyoung opened the door. Truly an ending like the ones that happen in those rich lesbian fanfictions; they lived happily ever after together.

Well, not without some bumps.

A few days later, Krystal went to the bathroom feeling very nauseating, with Wonyoung coming to the rescue for her unwell partner.

"I think I'm pregnant," Krystal says.

#krystal smut #wonyoung smut #f(x) smut #ive smut #izone smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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marvelfilth · 1 year ago

Text

The mustache

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Natasha crashes your date

Masterlist

You let a fake laugh bubble out of your mouth for what feels like a hundredth time this evening. Your date looks smug, her eyes trailing over your form, almost leering. She takes a sip of her wine and licks her lips slowly, daring you to look.

You don't.

You can almost hear Natasha say I told you so.

You clear your throat and take another bite of a perfectly made steak - the only saving grace of this disastrous date.

You mentally cringe, closing your eyes briefly. Objectively, the date is going well - she showed up on time, held the door for you, helped you to your seat and made perfect small talk, occasionally throwing in a joke or two. You can excuse her wandering eyes, knowing you've been throwing mixed signals all evening.

You nod along to whatever story she's telling, smiling and chuckling when it's appropriate. You barely resist the urge to excuse yourself. You chew on your lower lip, wondering how you allowed yourself to get in such a mess.

Your phone chimes once, screen lightning up with a new notification.

Natasha.

Yep. Here's your answer.

You look at your date, hating how different her smile is from your best friends. It's too large, too open and not even half as genuine. Natasha's smiles are small, barely noticeable, but they're enough to make your breath come short.

You sigh. You need to stop comparing your every date to Natasha.

“Do you mind if I take a look? It might be important,” you ask, reaching for your phone. She nods happily, waving the waiter over for another glass of wine.

How bad is it?

You snort, coughing immediately to cover up the sound and reaching for your glass.

Another message appears right in front of your eyes.

That bad?

You choke on your wine, discreetly looking around, but coming up short.

Six o'clock, dumbass.

You wait a moment and look right behind you, mouth falling open when you finally see her.

She's sitting three tables down, wearing your favorite hoodie and a black cap. With sunglasses covering her eyes. In a dimly lit restaurant. What makes you let out a strangled laugh, though, is a perfect old fashioned mustache glued right under her nose. She twirls both ends around her fingers, curling them up, before lowering her glasses and sending you an exaggerated wink.

The best spy in the world, the woman who made entire governments collapse, is sitting right behind you, looking like a child playing dress up.

You whip around, your face red, and wave off your date's concerned look. “I'm alright.”

She nods, all too happy to continue talking about all of the famous people she's met through her job.

You hide your phone under the table and shoot your best friend a text.

You're ridiculous

Her reply comes instantly.

And yet you love me.

Her words hit a little too close to home.

You are hopelessly in love with your best friend.

Another message comes through.

What's wrong?

You frown, eyes darting around. You didn't even do anything to warrant the question.

And don't even try to lie. I can tell something's wrong.

You sigh, tell Natasha everything is fine, and place your phone face down on the table, your date still recounting a story of how she met some actress.

The next half an hour is tense. You can feel Natasha's eyes on you. You can hear her plotting a way to get you out of here, but you know you have to at least try to make it work, if not with… Connie? Courtney? Then with someone else, before you go completely mad.

Your phone rings. You can't stop yourself from picking it up.

“Sorry, it’s an emergency.” Your excuse sounds bad even to your own ears, and you wince when your date pointedly looks away with pursed lips.

“Do you want me to throw her out of the window?” She starts without a preamble. “If not, I have a knife in my boot and you know how good I am with knives.”

“Can't you handle it without me?” You ask, knowing Natasha will play along. Your date reaches for her purse, dejected. Guilt swirls in your chest, and you contemplate your next words. Maybe you should stay and-

“Don't feel bad, she's been looking at the blonde to your right since she came in,” Natasha drawls, “and no, I can't handle it without you. I need you back home.”

You blush, biting on your lower lip.

“I'm sorry, but there's been an-”

“Just go,” your date cuts you off, “I'll handle the bill.” Her eyes are on the blonde girl before she's done speaking, and you leave with your conscience clear.

Natasha catches up to you outside and leads you to her corvette - her sunglasses and cap are gone, but that ridiculous mustache is still in place.

“What do you think?” She asks as she opens the door for you before going around the car and taking a seat behind the wheel. “I like the look.”

You snort and shake your head, amused with your best friend's antics. “It's… something.”

She rolls her eyes, starting the engine. “I know you love it.”

You hum, relaxing against the soft leather, your worries stoved away by Natasha's calming presence.

“Why do you keep going on dates if you hate it so much?” She asks when you reach Compound gates.

You sigh, think of an answer that would get her off your back without making her suspicious.

“I just… I-” you stutter, wincing.

Great.

She raises an eyebrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, but so, so beautiful, it makes your entire chest ache.

The car comes to a stop, and Natasha focuses all of her attention on you.

“I need to get over someone.”

There, you've said it.

“Who?” She asks, and for the first time in all the years you've known her you can't read her at all.

“You don't know them.”

She looks ahead, her jaw clenched tight. “How long?”

You blink away the tears. “A few years.”

She looks down at her lap, her fingers tapping against her thigh. “Who?” She asks again.

“Natasha…”

“Is it Carol?” Her voice is tight, her eyes dart around the street.

“God no,” you chuckle, thinking about your blond friend. Valkyrie would kill you on the spot if you even looked at her the wrong way, not that you're interested anyway. They need to get over themselves and finally admit their feelings to each other. Anyone can see their pining from a mile away.

“Kate?”

You shake your head. “You don't know them.”

“Then tell me. What would it matter?”

“Nat, can we just-”

“Tell me.”

You groan, and turn to open the door, but Natasha’s hand landing on your thigh stops you. You swallow, freezing on the spot.

“Please.”

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the inevitable. “It's you,” you whisper.

The hand on your thigh clumps tight. “What?”

“It's you,” you repeat, feeling braver after the admission. “Always you.”

She lets out a deep, shaky breath, before reaching for your face with her other hand. “Look at me, please.”

You face her, eyes still closed, a few tears sliding down your cheeks. They're wiped away a moment later, and your face gets enveloped in the softest warmth.

“Open your eyes.”

You swallow, and do as she asked. She looks at you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, lips falling open. “What?”

She smiles, her thumb tracing patterns on your wet cheek. “I love you.”

You look at her for a long moment, taking in her features - her forest green eyes, tender and soft, the slope of her nose, so kissable. Your eyes trail lower and then suddenly a loud laugh makes its way out of your chest. You bend, clutching your stomach, happy tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

Natasha looks delightfully confused.

“I'm sorry, it's just…” you giggle, pointing at her face, “the mustache.”

She groans, tearing it away. “I've been going crazy all this time, you know.”

“Yeah?” You grin, head spinning.

“Yeah,” she says before claiming your lips. She's soft, so soft it makes your toes curl and your chest get warm and fuzzy. The kiss is gentle, loving. You mewl against her, opening your mouth and welcoming her tongue.

The kiss grows heated.

“I,” you gasp between the kisses, “I love you. So much.”

You can feel her blinding smile in the next kiss, and the one that comes after.

#natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff #black widow x you #black widow x reader #black widow #the mustache

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ladycaramelswirl · 8 months ago

Text

definitely not old

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

A/N: Did I create an extremely improbable scenario just to suit my need to create another highly improbable scenario? Yes. Do I care that it’s unrealistic? No. Please forgive any typos/ grammatical errors.

CW: suggestive content, but not explicit (like 15+?). Use of y/n one time. (Technically this would probably warrant one of those hostile workplace environment seminars like they had for Derek and Penelope. But it’s funny? Idk this isn’t serious.) Sassy Hotch. Crack plot tbh.

Also I know the timeline doesn’t really make sense, because JJ is a profiler and Emily and Rossi exist, but I imagined Season 1 Spencer while writing this! I guess it’s 2005? Btw I do not know how tapes work, so just pretend it makes sense please. This is so unserious.

Summary: reader wife and Hotch are private people; the BAU team is nosy. Spencer is just constantly in the right place at the wrong time.

Enjoy!

——————

The screen in front of you depicted horror - just not the kind the BAU was used to. The UnSub had confessed to leaving a message in an old tape. He had already been arrested, but you were all hoping it might contain something that might help the conviction stick. Only he was extremely paranoid, so not only had he left the message in a code, but he had spliced it into a tape he thought people were least likely to watch. His p***. It was the last thing to do for the case and everyone was trying to help. You all sit at the round table, and Spencer shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. Derek laughs at his shyness and Emily laughs at the very unrealistic movements. She and JJ tilt their heads at the shape the two on the screen have put themselves into.

“That does not look comfortable”, JJ mocks.

The words are out of your mouth before you think. “Trust me it’s not”.

Everyone at the table snaps their heads to look at you.

“Damn Mama”, Derek laughs. “Who are you doing these moves with?”

You try to hold back a laugh. You were not ready to share about your sex life with your colleagues, no matter how close you were. Plus you’re pretty sure Aaron would not appreciate it.

“That is inappropriate workplace conversation”, you say, pausing the video. “And you’re going to miss the next series of code”, you tell him, trying to get him to revert his attention back to the video. Emily grins at your attempted evasion.

“We already got all the code. She just doesn’t want us to tell Hotch she’s capable of all that. Doesn’t want to make the old man feel bad”.

“He’s not old. He’s only 5 years older than you”, you remind her. She puts a hand on her chest in mock offense like you’ve stabbed her. You roll your eyes. “And this is still inappropriate”.

“So it wasn’t Hotch”, Derek laughs.

“You’re just annoyed because you haven’t tried it yourself”, you deflect, moving to sit next to Spencer who seems to actually be doing his job.

“I’ve seen her do yoga and she’s very flexible, so if she couldn’t do it I don’t think you can”, JJ tells Morgan.

“Oh you have no idea what I’m capable of”, he teases, which earns laughs from around the table. “I’m better than the old man for sure”. They all start laughing and talking about you and Hotch.

You roll your eyes. “Wasn’t old in bed last night”, you mutter under your breath. You startle at the sound of a book hitting the floor and see Spencer’s bright red face. JJ, Derek and Emily look over in curiosity at what they might have missed, but you ignore them, attempting to give Spencer an apology for making him uncomfortable. He moves to drink his coffee in an attempt to avoid more of the conversation. Only he chokes on it because Hotch enters the room.

“Have you finished working out the code?”

Everyone’s heads snap to him - JJ, Emily and Derek wearing matching grins. Hotch eyes you patting a coughing Spencer’s back.

“Are you alright?”, he asks.

“Yes! Good! I’m good!”, Spencer squeaks, afraid Hotch is going to ask him why he’s so nervous. Aaron looks to you for some answers but before you can tell him it’s nothing, Spencer suddenly stands up.

“Got the code! Going to call the local PD. DA is waiting”, he warbles before you all watch him run out of the room. Hotch turns back to the rest of you.

“Well then that wraps it up. Go home now, get some rest”, he instructs. Everyone starts packing up. You and Hotch walk towards the door when he realises there’s only 6 of you in the room.

“Where’s Dave?”, he asks.

You’re about to tell him Rossi went to the bathroom when the Italian walks back in. Rossi immediately notes the paused video.

“Wow that looks uncomfortable”, he remarks. Everyone smirks in your direction. Hotch snakes an arm around your waist and looks at the screen. Then at you.

“It was, wasn’t it?”

He smiles at the jaws dropping to the floor.

“Good night everyone”.

—————————

A little bonus scene:

In his office later:

“You heard us talking before you came in the room didn’t you”, you question your husband. He was so private, he wouldn’t have said something like that otherwise.

“They called me old”, Aaron grumbles, but his tone is amused. “Just wanted to shock them a little”.

You make your way over to his side of the desk, pulling him to stand up beside you.

“Well Agent Hotchner, I have to tell you, there’s been some speculation about your performance”, you taunt. “Care to prove them wrong?”

“Last night wasn’t enough proof?”, he laughs raising an eyebrow. You run your hands up his chest and behind his neck, pulling him close.

“The results were inconclusive”, you tease. He grabs your hips and traps you between himself and his desk, his mouth trailing kisses down your jaw.

“Well I can’t have that kind of speculation going around”, he murmurs into your skin. Your breath hitches from the sensation of his lips on the sensitive spot on your neck. But instead of continuing, he pulls away and meets your eyes in a conspiratorial grin. “We should do an in house evaluation as soon as possible”.

You open your mouth to reply when the door swings open, Spencer finding you sandwiched between Hotch’s thighs and your blouse rumpled. His mouth drops open and suddenly all 187 iq points mean nothing when his brain loses function.

“Oh- I- um- sorry!”, he manages before running away. You stare at the slammed door then back at Aaron and burst into giggles. He drops his head to your shoulders and sighs.

“I feel like a teenager”, he groans.

“At least you don’t feel old.”

—————————

Bonus bonus:

Still in the conference room:

“I want to go back to 10 minutes ago when I didn’t know this information”, Emily moans.

“I think I need 5 more minutes before I can form a coherent thought”, JJ laughs in disbelief. Spencer walks back in.

“I finished my report. Where’s Hotch and y/n? Can we go home?”

“Probably doing it in his office for all we know”, Derek mutters.

Spencer’s brows furrow in confusion. “Doing what in his office?”

Rossi raises an eyebrow at Emily. “Is this kid serious?”

She shrugs back at him.

“Spence, Hotch says we can go home. But you should probably report about what local PD told you before you go”, JJ tells him.

Spencer nods and makes his way to Hotch’s office. The rest of the team watch him walk away.

“You think we should have told him to knock before going in?”

“Probably.”

The sound of a high pitch yelp and the slam of an office door echo down the hallway.

“Oops.”

——————

thank you for reading :)

masterlist

#criminal minds #bau team #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #emily prentiss #spencer reid #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #crack fic

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fivewholeminutes · 10 months ago

Text

HEY LOOK I BLINKED AND IT'S ANOTHER WEEKEND ALREADY time is an illusion which hates me

Y'all i love u not ignoring u, just having a busy weekend, but i am kissing on the mouth everyone who sent me an ask lately 🥺

#i just want y'all to know i love you dearly and i will try to answer all asks soon #alas i thought i'll have the mental capacity for it days ago but here we are #tho i am slowly getting out of the whatever weird mood i was in for the past two fucking months #thank you everyone for asks messages and the genera love you're throwing my way #i wasn't really on hiatus cause i was mindlessly reblogging stuff but i Wasn't Truly Here ya know #and i feel I've missed so much from y'all's lives :c #i feel i've missed so much new art #and i have A LOT of things added to my drafts instead of cleared bc i just keep adding stuff there #and having no brain to properly admire it/read it with comprehension #hey did you know burnout makes you reluctant to answer messages from friends!! i did not now i do #i have weird issues now with my brain everyone (like i even need to do a mri scan)#it's nothing serious but i feel funny idk #so yeah. i have a draft with semi-hiatus thing but i haven't touched that post in 3 weeks so rambling in tags it is i guess #also i'm sorry my beloved anon your ask is halfway answered for like. 5 weeks maybe. if not more bc i dontknow how time works #ALSO HELLO HI NEW FOLLOWERS I HOPE I WILL PROVIDE MORE COOL STUFF SOON and by cool stuff i mean i will reblog more cool stuff not make it #but hey it's spring i hope it gives me energy for cool stuff again i have PLANS #alright i've lost the plot i love you all please don't overwork yourselves and keep in touch with people who love you and go out to get some #sweet vitamin D #it works miracles

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kiss-me-muchoo · 3 days ago

Text

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 || 𝐇𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠-𝐖𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: angel of satisfaction || part two: here

summary_the fallout of your love story with jeong-won and how he begged long enough to drastically change your life.

warnings_ age gap (not specified but reader is in uni), implied sex, cheating, fluff, angst but happy ending , reader smokes, is implied to be American and PLOT TWIST at the end, NO PROOFREADING

notes_ need to watch goblin and the silent sea :( using the salesman tag to avoid the flop allegations

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 gong yoo

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ———୨ৎ───୨ৎ

The smell of cigars filled your home: you never thought you would deliberately find yourself smoking.

But there you were, looking at the cloudy skyline while you threw out the unhealthy smoke.

Your phone rang and you pulled it out of your pocket.

The ninth call of the day. Three times three is the charm.

“What the fuck do you want?” You neutrally ask, ignoring the beating of your heart.

“…y/n? Thank goddess you’re answering” You roll your eyes. “We need to talk, there’s a lot you-“

“Jeong-won, I don’t want to talk about anything with you” The exasperated tone in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by him, which makes him feel even more stressed out. “In fact, I don’t want you to keep calling me. I don’t want you messaging me. I don’t want to have your follow on social media. I don’t want to hear your music in the clubs. I don’t want to ever fucking see your face again”

“Please, y/n. I don’t deserve to explain myself but-“

“I told you, you only had to pay for that dinner and forget about me. I suppose you didn’t mend things with your wife…” you abruptly cut him off, watching the smoke of the cigar fly out of your place.

“It’s complicated…” he sounds tired, sad and pathetic.

“Yeah… Everything’s that way with you. I just didn’t want to see it” you spit out, hanging up, leaving him to make a mess over the deadline.

You didn’t know how, but you would try everything just to forget him. But when you get out of the apartment the first thing you notice is the public trash can.

There lies the flower bouquet that appeared at your door three days ago. It had been Jeong-won’s first attempt to say sorry.

But so far it wasn’t working.

…

Three weeks into trying to move on. The first days felt like walking throwing a dark alleyway with no return. Tears always find a way to run out of your eyes, but you couldn’t deny, that you felt better.

Your friends helped a lot. Seoun-mi was the only one who said that if Jeong-won insisted, you could let him explain himself. Ruby and Jade immediately said no.

The spring was right around the corner. The rain was slowly coming to an end. The coats were being replaced with sweaters and cardigans. Even the sun cooperated, warming enough to make you go out to run.

Jeong-won crossed the street to walk towards his car. He had submitted a mini EP of music, expected to release mid-spring.

The city looked active, almost as if everyone had been trapped by the winter. He pulled out the keys to his car when he looked up.

His feet dragged him away, noticing a woman jogging down the street.

His face turned in awe after realizing it was you. Your matching grey tracksuit was hard to miss. He remembered you mentioned you were asthmatic, he wondered if you carried your inhalator.

“Y/N!” Jeong-won couldn’t care less if everyone stared at him as if he was insane. He started running hoping to get your attention.

His heart started beating so fast, the rush of seeing your face again, the hope of having you by his side again.

But that didn’t happen, you didn’t even listen. Music was playing so loud through your wireless headphones.

Jeong-won stopped running. He stared at your blurred vision and sighed in dismay.

His phone rang and he answered, still looking at you.

“Are you busy?” In-ji asked.

“No. I’m going home…” the man answered.

…

As the desperation started to burn you, the need to go out also grew stronger.

Ruby and Seoun-mi had seminars, and Jade had a meeting with her major advisor.

The outcome? You dancing all alone in a club.

You couldn’t go to the same one where you used to go. That’s where you met Jeong-won, it was too painful.

But as the alcohol sinks in, you start to feel tipsy, alerting you to stop drinking.

For a second you thought it was already too late but Han Jeong-won was actually there.

He gently pushed people to come to you.

There isn’t even time to feel angry, nervous, or panicked.

“What are you doing here?” You ask loudly.

“I came with a friend…” he admits, looking hopeful.

When you try to sneak away, Jeong-won grabs your wrist and pushes you against his chest. Only to then kiss you.

In his arms, you felt safe.

With his kisses, you felt cherished.

The man who urgently smashed his lips with yours in the middle of the dance floor while music blasted from the speakers was the love of your life.

He couldn't resist the temptation. Couldn't miss the chance and needed to let you know he always loved you. That everything was true.

"Please, believe me..." he pleaded, holding your hands.

"Fuck you, Jeong-Won"

Frivolously, you leave the taste of poison on his lips. His hand tried to grab yours again, but you slipped, leaving him.

Like you had already done before.

But it didn't make it easier, because tears started falling down the first step out of the club.

And in the middle of the cold night, you slip into your coat and start a quiet walk towards home.

You wished you knew he was mourning a life he had before you.

…

Caffè Americano…

The smell fills your nostrils and the warmth of the cup soothes the cold of your hands. Too many thoughts have run through your head over the days. And it was very rushed to say you were over Jeong-won. Walking through the same streets you once walked while feeling in love was devastating, as dramatic as it sounded.

But it’s a good day. You can feel like you are reaching peacefulness and it’s enough.

It’s been a month and a half since you last saw him. The world is not fresh, but it’s still open.

You walk out of the coffee shop, your boots sound with every step you take and the cool air makes the very few cherry blossoms in the trees fall.

Your eyes scan the street; everyone is just there living.

When would you start feeling like yourself again?

Apparently not at that moment. After coming down the little steps of the coffee shop, you look up and meet two people talking, just inches away.

Why was life so cruel? Why do you have to meet your ex-boyfriend and his wife right then and there?

They feel someone standing in their eyes, but they try to act so normal, like you hadn’t seen them. You start walking away. With firm steps and a well-hidden urge to run as well.

His hair looked the same, but his face looked less tired. She looked younger if that was even possible, with longer hair and more casual clothes.

Jeong-won and In-ji stare at each other awkwardly.

“Go after her” she softly tells him. Jeong-won stares back at her with unease before turning back his attention to you.

He knew you wanted to run away the moment you saw them.

“We already met once. What if we met again and she’s in the middle once again?” He can’t deny the anxiety growing as you stop waiting for the traffic lights to change.

“Jeong-won, perhaps we were really never meant to be together…” his face almost turns into a childish pout.

But maybe… In-ji was right.

She was kind, supportive and caring. She would’ve been a great wife. But their marriage started as a contract, Jeong-won never knew her completely.

He never felt the same way he did with you.

“We couldn’t even say ‘I love you’ to each other…” the woman admitted with a sad smile.

Then both turned to look at you.

“Go, explain her everything. And if we see each other again. It’s because we are meant to be friends. But that’s it…” Jeong-won almost felt his eyes turn glassy. But he nodded, gave Noh In-ju a brief kiss on the forehead, and literally started running towards you.

For a moment he thought about

You are still waiting for the green light when you hear him. You spot a cab and make him a sign to stop by you.

“Y/N !” When you look back, you see Jeong-won running, out of breath with his hand waving in an attempt to make you notice him.

You sigh, already feeling stressed out.

“This needs to stop. I can’t take it anymore!” You almost yell as soon as he ends up face-to-face with you. “I know it was just a coincidence and she’s your wife, but it’s not fair. I can’t do this anymore…”

You’re so mentally exhausted that you don’t even notice your eyes tearing up until the cool air makes you aware of the tears.

“Please, don’t cry. If you just let me explain… you and I-“

Boom. You explode…

“YOU AND I, NOTHING!”

It spills out of your mouth. The words even hurt you since you know it’s not true. People around stare but you don’t care.

“This is why I can’t go out anymore. I’m so scared that I will have to see your face again… “ his heart breaks, he can’t stand your tired and hurt tone, your burning cheeks, and your red eyes.

He wants to make it better but doesn’t know how.

“I never wanted to hurt you…” he admits with his broken voice and you find the strength to chuckle. “I will remember that when I’m gone…”

“You’re leaving?” Jeong-won finds himself panicking, already desperate to make you stay.

“If the office approves my petition, yes. I’ll leave in three weeks” his face goes pale. “And even after everything… I can’t hate you, Jeong-won”

Your cab arrives just in time, and you disappear without saying anything else. You don’t even look at him again.

And as the cab drives away, you begin to think about anything else. In hopes of forgetting about everything, starting with his face.

…

2:00 am…

You can’t sleep. It was the following night after a hangover day. Your friends almost cried, pleading you stay at least the rest of the semester. You hadn’t thought about leaving the apartment and all of the good memories built there.

You look through the open curtains at the skyline. The same crystal diving you from the city that once was your lullaby as Jeong-won hugged you and combed his fingers through your hair.

You were so sober that you even questioned if he deserved to explain himself.

What if he was in a bad marriage and he couldn’t get divorced but started seeing you? No… Then why did they look very happy talking to each other the last time?

What if he actually never meant to cheat on his wife but tremendously fell in love with you? No… He still cheated and never told you about it.

But he said he loved you.

And he looked sincere while doing so…

*beep beep*

Your phone makes you touch the ground again.

After hours of being in the dark, the light of the screen blinds you for a second.

Five new messages…

Jeong-won ♡

You never removed the heart beside his name in the contract.

Jeong-won ♡ ׂ╰┈➤

I can’t sleep again.

and not because I’ve taken

the pills again. I miss you like

you have no idea.

I know I hurt you despite not

wanting to. But as I said, it’s complicated.

Jeong-won ♡ ׂ╰┈➤

My first wife and I had issues.

She always wanted to

control me. We almost had a kid,

but we lost it and that shattered my

life once again. So she urged me

to sign a fake marriage, now I see

how twisted and stupid it is.

Jeong-won ♡ ׂ╰┈➤

I was so uncomfortable when this

new woman appeared at my place.

It was already a bad place

and it added up to my neglect. It was

never my intention to cheat on In-ji.

I was only being friendly

that night we met in the club. But the

more I heard you, the more I realized

how lonely I was. It was luck or a fluke

that you were in that burger shop

days after.

Jeong-won ♡ ׂ╰┈➤

I swear to you, y/n, that every

word, caress, and moment I shared

with you was real. Never in my life

I’ve been more sure about

feeling like this. I wanted to tell

you about the marriage, but I

didn’t know how. I thought that

no matter how much I tried to

explain, it would sound terrible.

I was so close to falling in love

with her. But thank goodness

I didn’t, because I would have

settled for so little compared

to you. The marriage contract is

over. That day you saw us together,

it was the first time I saw her

in months. She told me to go after you.

Jeong-won ♡ ׂ╰┈➤

I don’t think it’s enough

explanation. But I hope it’s

enough for you to believe me

when I say I truly love you.

I’m so sure I want to waste as

many years as needed as long as

you forgive me. Please don’t leave,

I need you. Even when I don’t deserve

it.

✓ ✓

You don’t cry, you don’t panic, you don’t even blink. You just lock the phone and set it aside. Your eyes locked on the ceiling as you start drifting off, succumbing to sleep.

…

It could’ve been any other day. But it was raining when you decided to drop the final papers to withdraw from the study abroad program and return home. The apartment was a mess, half of it already packed up inside carton boxes and the other half resting as if nothing was happening.

The decision was not properly made, that was clear.

Your head was a disaster, a swimming mess.

Your life has been quite boring but comforting ever since you entered your teenage years. Never in your wildest dreams, you thought you would be stressing over a failed relationship where the man was married.

Three months after that embarrassing night at the restaurant, you are in a very different place and situation.

The rain has stopped, the sun peaks between grey clouds but the streets are still a wet mess.

You avoid the puddles of water that form across the sidewalk. Your cable earphones get tangled with the bunch of papers in your arms. It’s annoying until you slow down to take them off and hold the papers properly.

You bump into someone. The altercation being a little violent makes you almost fall to your knees, but the stranger holds your shoulders.

And the papers fall from your hands, drenching in the water.

“Fuck…” you whisper, hurrying to kneel, not caring that your knees get wet, you can only save the top papers. You see the hands of the stranger also trying to save them. That’s when you look up at the stranger.

Without a warning you end up smiling, Jeong-won smiles back at the instant. Both of you chuckle.

The half-drenched papers slip from your hands again, completely drowning in the puddle of water.

“Is it too late?” He asks.

“For what?”

“For begging you to stay with me…” your hands snake to grab his. He had a black turtleneck sweater and a jacket hanging over his shoulder. He looked painfully gorgeous.

You think about all those hours you spent re-reading his messages.

“I think you have begged enough” you reply.

Needless to say… you just know it was meant to happen.

Your arms lock around his neck and it’s you the one kissing him. Jeong-won mentally sighs, feeling relieved and renewed.

You can feel his arms embracing you tightly, as if scared you would slip away from him again.

Out of breath, he rests his forehead against yours, witnessing how the pain slowly washed away.

“It’s okay…” you almost whisper, he nods, briefly smiling. “Jeong-won, let's go home”

You knew he understood. Both of you knew home was wherever the two of you were together.

…

The heat was slowly building up. The windows started to remain open all day and night. Jeong-won was slightly stressed out, he had an upcoming trip and was in a mall, outside of a candle store.

His phone was almost burning when he realized the day was indeed hot.

“Jeong-won?” He turns only to encounter In-ji, smiling brightly at him.

“In-ji…”

His ex-wife appeared upon him, looking gorgeous. She looked happy, with her long hair now dyed chocolate brown.

“How are you?” He asked giving her a quick hug. “I haven’t seen you in… a long time”

It had been a year, to be exact.

“What happened with y/n?” She asks straight to the point and Jeong-won chuckles. “Why are you laughing?”

“It was bad… Remember?” In-ji nods, then he points at a woman squatting while looking at candles inside the store.

It was you, wearing a sundress that hunched over the floor. A purse hanging from your shoulder with many keychains. And when you stood up and turned to the side, In-ji noticed your left arm was also busy, holding a newborn baby.

“HAN JEONG-WON, YOU HAD A BABY?” the man starts laughing while nodding. “Oh my goddess! Congratulations!”

“I can’t believe it myself” he admits after accepting the hug In-ji gave him.

It felt nice to see her. She was right, they functioned better as friends.

“It’s a girl, right? What’s her name?” His eyes brightened at the subject.

Jeong-won had a baby with you…

“She has two names. June Iseul” the name of the baby rolled over his tongue and he found himself smiling again.

June Iseul was born in the peak of the winter, weighing and measuring less than expected, with matted raven hair and grey irises that were slowly becoming like yours but shaped just like her father’s.

“That’s adorable!” In-hi admitted, feeling awe at the sight of the baby in your arms, wearing a rainbow onesie.

“And I guess you married her?” Jeong-won huffed.

You never denied how June Iseul had been an accident. She came to slow down your academic career, she also made you gain weight and lose some hair but her arrival amidst winter gave you half a year to recover. You felt amazing and June Iseul was growing healthy.

Jeong-won was happier than ever. He was just a little worried about the reason why they were in the mall. Your parents were slightly mad and very confused as to why you left home being single and a full-time student and you were going to visit them being a part-time student, with a boyfriend and a baby.

Jeong-won was nervous, excited, and eager to marry you.

“Well… happens that y/n doesn’t fully believe in traditional marriage. I’ve asked her on multiple occasions but she keeps saying that we shouldn’t push it yet” Jeong-won admits rolling his eyes, she chuckles, turning her head to see you invested in the newborn section. “She’s very smart”

“She is…” he agrees, joining the chuckles and smiling like an idiot at the sight of you with his daughter.

“Well I didn’t have a baby, but I got married” In-ji revealed, making Jeong-won almost gag.

“What? When?”

“Two weeks ago. I met him in Thailand and… I don’t know. I’m just… very happy” Both smiled, feeling in peace knowing everyone had moved on. “I’m happy for you, Jeong-won. I can tell you are living a dream”

“I’m also happy for you…” both smiled at each other.

…

An hour later, you are done shopping and the most important thing is in your hands; a stroller for June Iseul.

Jeong-won pushed the stroller as both of you walked towards a pasta restaurant.

“It sucks that you got me pregnant before my twenties ended. I should be in the club!” you object, exaggerating. You can hear Jeong-won huffing in disbelief.

“You literally go out to the club every week!”

He was right. Your life pretty much remained the same.

“And that’s one more reason I love you so much”

Even with the arrival of June Iseul, Jeong-won had no problems with staying with the baby while you attended classes or decided to hang out with your friends. He used to have a lot of free time, but now… he found the perfect routine.

“What are we ordering?” He asks, grabbing a menu as you both wait your turn to order and pay.

“You pick the pasta and I want a pizza with truffle oil. What do you say?” You negotiate with a smile.

He gets so lost in your beautiful face that he ends up smiling back like an idiot.

“What?” You ask again, chuckling at his silly face. “Nothing, I just love you so much”

You blush. And before you can say anything.

You hear some coos.

“I’ll order, you pick a table and feed Junjun” Jeong-won reassures you, knowing very well his daughter was demanding and using the silly nickname he had given her.

You take a seat at a secluded table and turn the stroller so you can uncover it.

June Iseul was awake.

“Hello, little blossom” she smiled and it melted your heart. “I know you’re hungry…”

She was very small and soft. She had that baby smell but as her mother, you thought your baby smelled perfectly compared to the others.

She locked her eyes with yours as you breastfed her, not caring about the attention because your back was facing the world, and the table was secluded enough to cover you.

June Iseul’s pale skin resembled her father’s, making her look a little like a porcelain doll. Like the one your friend Jade gifted her from Japan months ago.

The doll was very sophisticated and rested along with some baby books and toys.

“Your father isn’t very good at conversations with strangers, right?” You ask your baby as you pull her out of the stroller and into your chest. Your boyfriend seemed to awkwardly be exchanging words with the woman taking the order. It made you chuckle.

After a long night talking and him telling you every single detail of his life, everything changed.

Just when he got a little house in a modest neighborhood and asked you to move in, you accidentally got pregnant.

What seemed like a challenge turned out to be easier than expected. Jeong-won had been the perfect partner all along.

Ignoring the judgment from your peers in classes after you waddled around campus with a baby bump, everything was perfect.

Also ignoring all the insults you threw to Jeong-won while he held your hand in the delivery room, everything was perfect.

So seeing him come with the receipt of the order and taking June Iseul from your arms to burp her made you realize how lucky you were.

How fucked up things were until they weren’t.

You have a boyfriend begging you to marry him and a perfect baby that looks like him. Both are in wait to visit your homeland and parents for the first time.

The flash of your phone pulls Jeong-won out of his trance with June Iseul.

“Are you taking us a picture?” he asks.

“Yes, you both look so adorable” you admit looking at the screen. June Iseul perfectly locked eyes with his father and you captured it in a picture.

You would print it, use it as your lock screen, and send it to your friends.

Ruby immediately replies in the group chat, then Jade, and lastly Seoun-mi.

Rubz <3 ׂ╰┈➤

DILF + adorable baby spotted!!!!

Jadore ׂ╰┈➤

Is that the onesie I bought her?

June Iseul my baby 🩷🩷🩷

misu :) ׂ╰┈➤

Tell Jeong-won he’s not

holding her neck properly:)

misu:) ׂ╰┈➤

I love her <3

you ׂ╰┈➤

Everyone gets In-N-Out and

animal fries after we come

back to Korea (cold ofc)

you ׂ╰┈➤

For being such a good

trio of aunts 💋

You lock your phone with a smile on your face as you stand up.

“Where are you going?” Jeong-won asks.

“To wash my hands, silly” You lean forward to kiss him briefly and you can feel him smiling amidst the kiss.

It’s inappropriate but since the table is secluded, you feel playful enough to add tongue and have a little touch with his.

And then you remember your daughter is in the middle of you two and had just burped.

“She spilled some milk…” Jeong-won hurriedly says, breaking the kiss.

You chuckle and kiss your daughter’s matted hair.

“Then clean her, Jeong-won,” you say before leaving to finally wash your hands. As your steps grow further, you can hear your boyfriend talking in Korean with June Iseul.

“Your mother is a little spitfire. That’s why I want to marry her…”

There’s an embarrassing smile on your face when you look at yourself in the bathroom mirror.

___________________________

Taglist: @stargirl-mayaa @czarinera @dovediva @dreamersparacosm @girlythings111 @love2fangirl @migueloharassoulmate @fangirl4lifetime @wonallofme @otakusimp1 @muchwita @preppyfella @xcinnamonmalfoyx

#gong yoo x reader #gong yoo #the trunk #han jeong won x reader #han jeong won #the salesman x reader #salesman x reader #the recruiter #recruiter x reader

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ramp-it-up · 3 months ago

Text

All I Know It Feels So Damn Good

Summary: James Bucky Barnes was an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. You came along and knocked him on his face. Bucky gives you anything you want. Anything.

Word count: 2.5 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic is connected to the Knock You Down AU, and comes After ...As Hard As I Did but BEFORE Dessert or Disaster, but it can be read as a stand alone. It is in answer to this ask. Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run is making me feral. I can write these two ALL DAY!!!! Y'all are gonna have to deal with this for a while, sorry not sorry.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. This is porn with some plot. GNO tipsy texting returns, Dom/sub elements, phone sex, talk of raw p in v, description of sex with condom, Bucky being fluffy while filthy, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, degradation kink, talk of face slapping, talk of finger f*cking, talk of oral sex, praise kink, breeding kink, begging, use of Daddy, use of google translate Romanian. Actual raw p in v, lactation kink if you squint, nipple worship if you squint, belly bulge, non-existent refractory period. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

It was your first Girl’s Night Out as Bucky’s girl. You’d texted him tipsy messages all night, teasing him with your selfies and requests of the same from him.

Your flirty banter was all fun and games until your received a terse, ‘Call me when you get home’ voice memo.

You don’t know why six little words got you all worked up, but there was a delicious feeling of anticipation in your stomach until you settled into bed after you showered and dialed Bucky.

For the short time you’d been intimate, you’d sensed that he was holding back something darker, more forceful and to think of it didn’t scare you.

It only served to get you so incredibly hot. Something inside you wanted to push his buttons.

Maybe it was that, and not the champagne, that impelled you to text him what you had earlier.

Bucky was on his couch, staring at the Manhattan skyline and waiting for your call. He answered on the first ring.

“Hello, Frumoasă. Did you have fun tonight?”

His question seemed innocuous enough. Bucky listened as you recounted the drama and escapades of the night with your girls.

You asked him how his evening with Steve and Sam was and he replied shortly, “Fine. Until I got distracted.”

Then he got to the point.

“Now. Let’s talk about the text you sent me earlier. Run that back for me? What is it that you want to do while I do what to you now?”

The way he slid into confronting you was savage. You weren’t expecting it and now you didn’t want to say it out loud.

Had you crossed the line, you wondered?

Your silence made Bucky smile. He knew he had you flustered, having learned your tells already. You were about to be in the mood he wanted you in; he just needed to push a little further.

“Cat got that talented tongue, baby? Tell me what you said. Or are you only a whore over texts?”

The coldness in Bucky’s tone made you whimper. And wet.

“James…”

Bucky’s cock swelled. He was ten seconds from jumping into his car and showing up at your door. Instead of that, Bucky decided to be patient.

But clear.

“Tell me.”

“I said…I said that I wanted to suck your fingers while you fuck me raw.”

Bucky grunted to cover his moan. You being his shy little slut was so hot.

“Hmmmm. What made my sweet girl think such whore thoughts? Was it the picture that you requested and I sent?”

You shuddered as you ran your fingertips along your belly, playing with the waistband of your underwear. Your nipples were stiff peaks, poking through your thin sleep shirt, which was one of his white tees.

The fine cotton fabric felt so good against your skin and his scent lingered on the surface. These sensations, along with the knowledge that the shirt, and you, belonged to Bucky sent your fingers further.

“Thank you for the picture, Daddy.”

Bucky clenched his jaw at the moniker. He couldn’t deny you a thing. Even when he was out to dinner with his boys, he would send you a bathroom selfie if you asked. He hadn’t expected the response, however.

You’d only been together for a couple of weeks, and he’d religiously used protection, even after you’d both gotten tested the week after you got together. Despite your clean bills of health, Bucky never pushed to not use protection. He didn’t try to change your mind, he was just happy to be in the room.

In fact, Bucky loved using condoms with you.

The way you rolled it on him always made him about to bust. The sight of your small fingers on him when you both were past the point of desperation drove him insane with romantic thoughts.

Your tiny hands rolling the rubber on him made him feel like you were his queen and he your knight. And he would vanquish any foe for you. His holy grail was your precious pussy, and if you wanted to use condoms, he was your humble servant.

But of course, he dreamed of fucking you raw. How could he not with the way your juicy pussy sucked his digits in when he fucked you with his fingers, and the warm wet feel of you when his tongue penetrated your core?

You’d discussed birth control and you had additional methods, but when he snuck a peek of the ring in his closet, he allowed himself to fantasize about making you pregnant.The images got him so hard and yet he restrained himself.

But now that you opened the door, he could let his fantasies run wild. And dare to hope.

“Tell me more, Frumoasă.”

“Well… your fingers in the picture got me hot. You look so fucking Daddy, your eyes, your hair, which I love a little longer by the way, the grey in your beard. Those lips. But those fingers holding that ratty ass phone…”

You giggled until Bucky spoke again.

“As long as I can talk to you and get those kinds of messages, I don’t need a new one. But do go on…”

You melted at his sentiment. How did you get a man that was so open with his feelings?

“Those fingers, mmmm, they are magic. Make me wanna be a slut for for them, for you, James.”

You heard Bucky moving on his end of the line. You guessed at what he was doing.

“What are you doing, Jamie? Are you touching your cock?”

You bit your finger as you listen to him moving.

“Do you know that I daydream about that beautiful dick of yours?”

A groan was all that you received in response.

“Ever have a goal, James? Sucking your cock is mine. It’s so big. Love to get on my knees and swallow you down. Makes me feel accomplished. Ya know?”

“Holy shit, Y/N…”

“I want to feel it without a condom. I- I just think it will feel so good. Don’t you?”

As he thought of what you would feel like as he sank into you, skin to skin, a shiver ran up his spine.

“You know that I give you anything you ask for. Your soft, wet pussy would feel so warm and so good wrapped around me, Y/N. Are you sure you want that?”

You felt an enormous sense of power, and you had a feeling that Bucky was letting you have your way. For now. You took full advantage.

“You know that vein that runs around your shaft to the tip?”

Bucky was tracing that very vein with his fingers.

“You mean the one that you love to rub those sweet lips on? The one that your wicked tongue traces to my fat head for your sweet little mouth to suck?”

You gasped at Bucky’s lewd language. You were soaking your panties and you moved to take them off. This conversation was the shit.

“Is that what you want to get on your knees for? To try to make me your slave to your slutty mouth?”

“Yes, Daddy just thinking about it makes me wanna cum.”

Bucky’s ears perked up at your breathless voice. He knew that you were touching yourself.

“Oh yeah?”

“Ummmhmmm.”

“Cum for me now, Frumoasă.”

You moaned and rubbed furious circles around your clit. Your arousal was evident in the sloppy sounds emanating from between your legs

“Is that my wet pussy I hear, Baby? How did that happen? Are you that much of a slut?”

“Th-thinking about you, Daddy. Always a slut for you,” you keened in response.

“What exactly are you thinking about me? Fă ce spun eu frumos.”

You caught Bucky’s tone, and also the hitch in his voice. He was as close as you were.

“Yes, Daddy. ‘M thinking about your fingers inside me. Your cock. How big it is. The way you handle me. The way you talk to me. How you make me feel nasty and angelic all at the same damn time.”

“Good girl. Now. Make sure that you fuck your fingers into that sweet cunt.”

You moaned as you obeyed.

“Oh. Fuck!”

“There’s my good little whore. I should slap your fucking face for being so dirty. ”

You gasped, then thrilled.

“Ooooohhhh, Daddy!”

You were breathless and Bucky’s heart was beating out of his chest. You liked degradation. Really liked it. He took note.

“‘M so wet for you, Jamie.”

“I’m going to fuck you senseless, and you won’t be able to run from my cock when I fuck all of your fucking holes raw. Gonna leave my cum dripping out of everywhere.”

You gasped, fingers flying over your clit.

“Daddy…”

“But what if you get pregnant?”

You cried out.

“Godamn it, Frumoasă. That belly swollen because I fucked my cum into you. Full of my… fuck… full of my baby. Those tits gushing milk every time I fuck you…”

“Oh yes. Make me a Mommy!”

“You’ll be mine, Frumoasă. In every single way imaginable.”

“Oh oh oooooooooh!”

Your pussy spasmed under your fingers as his words pushed you over the edge.

“Don’t fucking stop rubbing that clit until I say so.”

He was so mean. You squeezed your thighs around your wrist, but did as he said.

“NNnnnghhh, Daddy… please!”

You continued stroking your oversensitive clit until you heard your name through the fog.

“Take your hand away..”

You gladly obeyed, gasping in order to take in oxygen. Your head was spinning and there was a giant smile on your face.

“Holy shit. That was…”

Bucky’s low chuckle made you giggle. You heard movement over the phone.

“What’re you doing?”

“Made a mess all over my shirt. Taking it off.”

Your pussy pulsed again at what he said.

“You can’t say things like that when I’m still pounding, Daddy…” you whimpered.

“Poor Y/N, can’t handle the things she starts.”

You laughed and then stopped abruptly.

“You better be glad that you’re not here right now. I’d knock you the fuck out.”

“Big talk. Little girl.”

“Try me, Mr. Barnes.”

He couldn’t resist you and he couldn’t stay away. So he gave up trying.

“Brat. Be there in 30 minutes. Be ready to put your money where your mouth is. I’d like to see you live up to your threat, Baby.”

“Oh I’m ready, James. Leave the condoms at home.”

—-

45 minutes later, Bucky was sinking into your wet heat, eyes rolling back into his head. He was inside in one long stroke, burying himself in your wetness with a fair amount of stretch. He was huge. But he’d made you so wet.

You quivered around him, sensitive to every twitch of his dick, and he wasn’t even moving yet.

“Who do you belong to, Frumoasă?”

“You,” you moaned, not even hesitating.

Bucky flexed his hips, opening you with controlled thrusts. Almost immediately, you were close. His fingers covered your throat, cradling your jaw, and a thumb pushed between your lips. You sucked it eagerly as he lifted one ankle next to your ear.

Blucky’s searing eyes met yours. His black pupils took over the blue as he took in your open mouth and fucked out expression.

He pulled you up to kiss you on the lips.

“God, you feel like heaven. So unbelievably hot and silky. And soft.”

You clenched around him at his words of praise. You were spiraling at how hard and good and electric every ridge and vein on Bucky’s cock felt inside you. He filled you up so good and now you were addicted.

It wasn’t fair.

You pouted at him, then put your hand on the bulge he was creating in your belly.

“Feels so fucking good, Daddy. So good. So big.”

His mouth turned up into a half grin as he looked down and put his hand over yours.

“Gonna fucking fill you up.”

He started moving, slowly, gently at first, building to a crescendo the more you moaned and cried. He was hypnotized by your bouncing breasts and your tiny stiff mountain peaks. When his mouth closed over your tight, puckered nipple, you let out a scream.

Bucky grabbed your ass and smacked it, causing you to clamp down immediately. He gazed at you, eyebrow raised at your reaction. You closed your eyes and threw your head back, but he stopped, grabbed your hair and made you look at him. He paused, balls deep inside you.

You breathed out his name.

“...James…”

Your desperation almost made him come on the spot, and you could feel him pounding inside you. The truth was, he needed a little break so this could last.

The way your pussy was sucking his dick was insane.

“D’you feel how soaked you are?” he crooned, gripping your windpipe again.

“You need this so badly, don’t you? Go on, Frumoasă. It’s not so hard. I know you want to beg me for it. You like being a little whore..”

You sucked in a breath, remaining silent as you stared at him insolently. His grip tightened.

“Say it. You love being my cumslut.”

His voice was on the edge of control. It was everything.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Please, Daddy, Pleaseee…”

Bucky started moving again and you realized how sensitive to him you were. You clutched the sheets as he lengthened his strokes.

“Fuuuuuck,” you gasped.

Bucky leaned down to kiss you as your sweat combined with your slick and soaked both your bodies. His hips were moving relentlessly, his cock lighting up every nerve ending inside your tight channel. You squeezed him deliciously.

Bucky’s thumb was lighting up your clit and you were running headlong toward that cliff. He growled into your mouth as you tightened around him in a rush of pleasure.

As you neared your peak, your pussy pulsed erratically and you sparked around him like a firework. When you cried out, he spoke again, his hand around your throat with his thumb, (coated with the essence of you) inserted again into your mouth.

“Look at you, baby,” he said, low and heated.

“You’re gonna cum so hard, and just the way I want you to. Around my naked cock. Gonna give you all this cum.”

He whispered it into your ear.

“Oh God, I’m cuming.”

“You better hope none of my little soldiers make it past your birth control, little girl.”

You shrieked around his digit, shuddering as one wave after another crashed over your body. Bucky’s cock jerked inside you and he choked on air.

“Oh Goddddd!”

Bucky’s low, deep moan made you shudder around him again as he sped up, unable to contain the feeling that rushed down his spine when you came.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck FUCKKKKKKKK!”

Bucky pounded you out as you came with him. He collapsed on top of you, laughing, as he kissed and licked your sweat filled neck. Then, he rolled off of you and put his arm over his eyes, his chest heaving beside you.

You curled up next to him and practically purred as you traced his tattooed sleeve.

“Told you I’d knock you out old man. Too bad you have to go to work tomorrow. How are you ever gonna do it when you’re so worn out? I feel like this pussy was worth it tho.”

Bucky moved his arm and opened one eye at you, a scowl on his face. Then he smiled. The brat in you turned him the fuck on. He turned toward you and traced his fingers along your side, caressing your curves like a feather. His voice was the gentlest whisper.

“Wonder how you’re gonna work tomorrow when you can’t walk, Y/N?”

You felt his dick awaken and gasped as you looked down. Bucky slapped your ass as he stood up to go to the foot of the bed, stroking his cock.

“Turn the fuck over. I’ll show you an old man.”

“We’ll see who is gonna knock out who first tonight. Give me that fucking arch.”

You smiled as your face was pressed into the comforter.

----

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beginningofwonderland · 1 year ago

Text

Stay Focused - San

Pairing: university student y/n x office worker San

Genre: smut with plot (MINORS DNI!)

Word Count: 12.5k (I don't know what happened)

Summary: Your mother insists on getting you a tutor for your studies. You want to resist until you meet Choi San, your tutor. His sweet talk and good looks make you focus on anything but your studies and you do everything to finally catch his attention in the same way.

Warnings: San is a few years older (5 to be exact), some nipple play, fingering, some orgasm denial, lots of dirty talk, blowjob (face-fucking leaning), protected sex, mirror sex

The reader in this is so horny omg. Just straight up trash for San (relatable). Also very long build-up.

"Good is not enough in this family," your mother repeats to you for what feels like the 100th time. „Your grades have to be exceptional if you want to work in my business."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you change your phone to the other hand to stir your pasta around. You just told her about your recent test results which of course are not satisfactory to her.

The problem is that you are actually doing pretty good. You never missed or failed a class, you passed all your courses with at least a good score and you had even fulfilled additional classes to broaden the spectrum of your studies. But just like she said: Good is not enough for her. She won't shut up about your grades until you reach 100% in all of your classes - which is basically impossible, especially in your field of study.

"Do you even still want to work in the family business?" your mother asks you provokingly. And the problem is, you do. You really do. Your mother is the CEO of a big pharmacy company and ever since you were a kid you followed her interest in chemistry. You even chose your pharmacy major without her influence. But now that you are taking the same path as her, she is all in your business about being the perfect little mini-her.

"I do, mom. I'm working hard on it, I promise. The next exam is in four weeks and I already started studying."

She makes a huffing sound before answering you: "You said that the last three times as well and still didn't get a full score. You should really get a tutor."

"Mom! I'm the best in my class. Why should I get a tutor? I'm doing great!" You are glad you're only talking to her on the phone so that she doesn't see the way your hands clasps over your face. She can't be serious with you. Getting a tutor with your grades is just embarrassing.

"But not great enough. You know what? The son of a close business partner recently started working at the company. He graduated a few years ago with an honour's degree and seems to be a very promising young man. I'll ask him to tutor you."

Your cheeks start to heat up just at the thought of how embarrassing the whole thing will be for you. Getting a tutor that worked for your mother is literally the worst case scenario. You feel like a high school student that doesn't pay attention in school and now gets scolded for it.

"I do not need a tutor, mom." You state once again but her mind is already made up.

"I'll give him your number and he will contact you. And don't you dare be rude to him, his father is very important for our business!"

You can't believe her words. Since when have you ever been rude to anyone she introduced you to? Your mother ends the call before you can protest any more.

Angrily, you fish a single spaghetti out of your pot to taste it. It's perfectly cooked when you munch on it in annoyance.

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

This is Choi San.

Your mother told me you needed tutoring on your pharmacy classes and gave me your schedule.

I can teach you Tuesday and Thursday afternoon from 6PM. Would that work for you?

You fall back onto bed with a frustrated groan as you read the messages. She really asked him. Now you have no choice but agree to him tutoring you because your mother would kill you otherwise.

Typing a reply you take a deep breath. This will be such a waste of time for the both of you.

Hello! Tuesdays and Thursdays are good. Thank you so much.

You hate how pathetic you sound. What are you even thanking him for? You don't want him to tutor you and he was definitely forced by your mother so why even play pretend?

No problem. We can use meeting room 117 at the company since I reserved it for us. I'll see you on Tuesday.

You dread Tuesday every single day from now on. When it finally arrives you feel ridiculous as you enter the large building of your mother's company. You have been here countless times but you never thought you would get tutor lessons here.

Even worse is that your mother made you go greet her beforehand. She specifically texted you to visit her office before the appointment with Mr. Choi. You walk past her assistant with a polite greeting and finally enter her office.

The luxurious room sat at the top floor of the building with a nice view over the city. Sometimes you forget how successful her company actually is. It can be quiet intimidating.

"There you are," she greets you with a mere look up from a bunch of files on her desk. "I hope you prepared well for your tutoring session. Please don't embarrass yourself in front of Mr. Choi. His father is an important business partner of mine and he himself seems to be a very promising employee. I don't want my own daughter to make him think worse of the company."

Of course she only worries about the company. The idea that this is incredibly humiliating for her own daughter does not even cross her mind.

"Hello, mom. Of course I prepared well, I always do. I won't disappoint you."

She nods at you, satisfied with your answer before looking at her watch. "Then you should head to the meeting room. He is always ridiculously early for meetings so he's probably waiting for you already."

Great, you think to yourself. You hoped you would be able to grab a coffee beforehand.

"I'll go right away. Bye, mom."

You walk to the elevator with heavy steps and check your own watch. It's still fifteen minutes until 6PM so there's plenty of time to grab a coffee before, no matter what your mother might say.

Entering the elevator you select the floor of the meeting room with the plan to walk to the coffee pantry first. Half-way down, the elevator stops on a different floor. When the doors open you almost choke on your polite "Hello" as your eyes take in the person in front of you.

Walking into the elevator is easily the most attractive man you have ever seen in your life. Dressed in a tight pair of dark pants and a perfectly fitted dress-shirt the handsome stranger repeats your greeting with a small bow and a mind-numbingly attractive smile. His eyes carry a little glimmer even behind the round pair of glasses he wears and as he pushes back his black hair you feel like swooning.

You have to keep yourself from staring when he takes his place in the elevator and both of you wait for it to move. Just now you realize he hasn't pushed a button, which means he is heading to the same floor as you. Out of the corner of your eyes you can't help but watch him.

He is a few inches taller than you but appears even bigger due to his broad frame. You wonder where that man even finds clothes that fit his stature with his broad shoulders and tiny waist. He checks his most definitely expensive wrist watch before looking at the display counting down the floors.

When the elevator doors open with a ding, you almost jolt. You were so caught up in thinking about how good he looks that you didn't even notice arriving on your floor. The handsome man gestures for you to step out first with another deadly smile in your direction.

"Thank you," you barely breath out as you step out of the elevator in front of him. It feels like the air outside is ten degrees colder. Without looking back you head to the pantry of the floor. You need a coffee even more than before now that you can only think of that guy from the elevator. There is no way you can concentrate on tutoring now without some caffeine.

The benefit of being the CEO's daughter is having a card with unlimited access to the coffee machines so you happily press the button for a black coffee. At the familiar buzzing sound you can finally relax and take a deep breath. No man has ever made you so flustered before just by existing. Maybe you should visit the office more often if that was the kind of employees your mother hired.

Taking your coffee into one hand and your study bag into the other you turn around to head to the meeting room. Caught up deeply in your thoughts you almost run head first into the person behind you.

"Woah, careful there. You don't want to spill that coffee do you?" his voice is smooth like honey, with a joking tone to it. You blink up at him a few times before you find your words.

"I'm sorry. I was distracted."

The man from the elevator smiles at you and you feel your body warming up from the inside out.

"Don't worry, nothing happened." He looks you up and down quickly before holding eye contact once again.

"Excuse the question, but do you happen to be director Kim's daughter?"

You stare at him in confusion. "Yes. Yes, I am. How did you know?"

He moves past you, grabbing a cup from the pantry himself and turning on the coffee machine before he answers:

"You share her eyes. But more importantly, your bag has a pin of the pharmacy faculty of the university and because I'm supposed to meet her daughter for tutoring on this floor in - " he checks his watch again: "exactly 12 minutes, I figured it might be you."

You are impressed. His looks are already enough to have your eyes turn into hearts but there is probably nothing that makes a man more attractive to you than his wit. But what hits you even more than that is the fact that THIS was your tutor.

I take everything back mom, I love tutoring. Sign me up for another year.

"Well, you figured correctly," you reply weakly, at a loss for words. "Nice to meet you Mr. Choi."

You put your cup on the pantry table to reach your hand out to him. He takes it with a smile.

"Nice to meet you too, Miss Kim. I was going to get the two of us some coffee but as I can see you already helped yourself."

Oh, so he's a gentleman as well.

"Next time you should let me take care of that," you said showing him your free access card. "I happen to own the key to infinite coffee."

"Does the caffeine addiction come for free with that as well?" You chuckle at his joke.

"I think it's the requirement to get it in the first place."

"Well then I will happily let you get us coffee next time."

Next time, you think. The reality that you will be seeing this man on a regular basis hits you.

For a second the two of you just smile at each other. Then Mr. Choi notices that his coffee is done and he grabs the cup.

"Let's head to the meeting room then. I wouldn't want to waste your time."

You sir, can waste my time any day of the week, you think to yourself but obviously keep silent as you follow him to the room.

He holds the door open for you and you settle down onto one of the meeting chairs. You always hated these things. They are designed to make you sit upright and therefore terribly uncomfortable. You desperately want to fold one of your legs under yourself like you always do at home but you have a good image to keep. After taking a seat across from you he puts his bag onto the table and looks at you expectantly.

"So what topics exactly are you struggling with? It's been a while for me but I'm sure I can help."

"To be honest with you, I don't really need help on anything."

San raises his eyebrows behind the round glasses on his nose. "What do you mean?"

You sigh, not knowing how to explain this dilemma best. "My mother made me get a tutor because she believes I need better grades. In fact I'm the best of my year with perfect attendance and an average of 95%. She says that everything under 100% is not enough which is why she must have thought of you as a tutor."

San just stares at you with a peculiar look on his face. He looks almost impressed from your words.

"I knew director Kim could be quite strict but I had never imagined that extent. I'm sorry she made you do this, a 95% average is very impressive in the pharmacy field."

"Says someone with a perfect 100% graduation," you snap back, a little more spiteful than you want to. But San doesn't seem to take it the wrong way. Instead he chuckles in response. The sound sends shivers down your spine, his voice dipping way lower than you had expected it could.

"Trust me, that wasn't all brains. I only know my way around people." You don't doubt that last statement for even a second.

"Maybe instead of teaching I can give you some tips around the university. That would probably help you more."

Now you are interested.

"What kind of tips for example?" You lean forward resting an elbow on the table as you pick your cup of coffee up for a sip. It's still burning hot but you pretend you didn't just burn your tongue as you set it back down.

"Does Mr. Han still do the medicine lectures? He's been using the same exam template for years. Pharmacy students are just to selfish to share the results with the younger students. I'll look for my old exams later to give them to you."

Your mouth opens in awe. Everyone from the year above had told you Mr Han's exams were the hardest and it turns out they were just lying to intimidate you. The competition was real.

"These fuckers," you mumble beneath your breath but judging by his chuckle, San heard you just fine.

"Sorry," you excuse your language immediately with a small nod. He is still an employee under your mother and she told you explicitly to act well around him. Hiding your uneasiness you go for another scolding sip of coffee.

"Don't worry, darling. I won't go complaining to your mother about your language. You don't need to be her perfect little girl for me."

You almost choke on your coffee and have to force the liquid down your throat with an effort. You really wish they didn't but his words made your insides squirm. The amount of money you'd pay him to call you 'darling' again is surely an embarrassing amount. But good little girl also didn't sound too bad from his mouth.

"Thanks," you mumble, not knowing what else to say and stare onto the table to hide your flushing face. If you look at him with those slutty, round glasses right now, you're sure you'll combust.

You don't notice, but Mr. Choi eyes you up and down carefully before he resumes speaking. He smiles at your flustered state that obviously doesn't escape his sharp senses. Seeing your pretty face flush from only these few words, satisfies him deeply.

"Then how about that toxicology class? If Mr. Lim still teaches it, I know a few ways to get on his good side. He always picks favourites and it shows in the grades."

Mr. Choi continues listing off ways to better your grades around your professors. You can't help but be impressed. Not only is he obviously very intelligent but also great with people. Maybe what kept you from exceeding in your studies was your rather reserved nature in class.

"How about this," Mr. Choi finally proposes after teaching you some of his ways. "I'll get you my old notes and exams and with that you will surely ace all your tests. Then we can meet up for these tutoring sessions and while you study in peace I can get some work done. This way your mother is happy and we both profit from the situation."

You nod without hesitation. "That sounds like a great idea. Thank you so much, Mr. Choi."

He groans at your words, a sound that makes you react in a way you don't even want to put into words.

"Please don't call me Mr. Choi when we're alone that makes me feel terribly old. My name is San."

"Aren't you older than me though?" you ask back carefully. It doesn't feel right to call him by his first name.

"If 5 years are old to you?" he inquires with a slight teasing edge to his voice. You don't know if he's flirting with you or if you are just becoming a witness to this man's effortless social skills.

Truthfully, you are 22 and 5 years more don't seem that much to you. Still his way with words and the confident aura around him make him seem more mature.

"I didn't say old. Just older."

He rolls his eyes at your stubbornness, leisurely resting one of his elbows on the backrest behind him. "Just call me San, darling."

There it is again. That word single-handedly turns you into a blushing mess within seconds and you find yourself agreeing without another thought.

"Okay, San."

A satisfied smile spreads on his face and you marvel at the dimples that form on his cheeks. "Much better. Than how about you do some studying and I'll get some work done now?"

"Sounds good," you reply and start taking out your classwork. He could've told you to start stripping right now and you would've agreed without question. Damn you are down bad for him already...

It is a weird situation at first. You are used to studying around strangers in the library, but sitting alone in a room with San makes it hard to focus on your upcoming test. His eyes keep flicking from his work laptop across to you and you don't know if he's interest in the topic you're studying or you.

You yourself on the other hand are surely interested in him and you can't help but steal a few glances at him working diligently at his laptop every now and then. Even typing on his keyboard looks ridiculously hot on him with the way his slender fingers run over the keys.

After about two hours of you trying to keep your eyes on your notes San finally closes his laptop and stares at you until you reciprocate his look.

"I guess two hours is enough to make your mother think you studied, right?" he asks with one corner of his mouth slightly lifted.

"Sure," you respond weakly.

"I'll look for my old tests and will bring them on Thursday," he goes on as he stands up to pack up his laptop and bag. You also start gathering your study books.

"Thank you again," you answer lamely. But the promise of already seeing him again on Thursday excites you.

When you proceed to grab your now empty coffee cup his hands react quickly as he snatches it from you.

"Don't worry about that, I'll put those away," he's leaning over the table now, smiling at you through slightly closed eyes and you can't help but be entranced by his looks. "You should make sure to get home before it's dark outside. Want you to get home safely."

"Don't worry about me, I'll manage."

"Oh but I won't if something happens to you and your mother finds out you were last seen with me," he replies cockily as you two finally go to the door.

You have to chuckle at his remark. "Good to know I'm not the only one terrified of her."

"Everyone is terrified of her," he mumbles under his breath but you are already reaching the coffee pantry - aka your cue to go home.

"Can we use the same room on Thursday?" you ask as you stop in front of him. You make sure to brush your hair behind your ear in a nonchalant manner, knowing it shows your good angles.

"Yeah, I already booked it," San replies easily, eyes fixing yours from above. "But let's meet at the coffee machine here. I want to at least take advantage of that free coffee if I give you all my study secrets."

He winks at you at the last part of the sentence and it makes your insides twirl like on a rollercoaster. You give him a small smile through fluttering lashes. "So that's what you meant with a win-win situation: Endless coffee. Well it looks like I don't have a choice but to be your personal coffee machine."

You want to punch yourself right after that sentence leaves your mouth. How much more stupid could you possibly sound? Personal coffee machine. Saying you wanted to be his personal slut would have been less embarrassing.

But San doesn't seem to mind your awkward response. "Sounds good to me," he replies smoothly. "Then have a good ride home and I'll see you on Thursday."

"Until Thursday," you reply before you can say something stupid again and stroll off to the elevator with a small wave.

As soon as the doors close behind you, your head thumps against the steel wall. There is no way you will get any studying done with that man in the same room as you.

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

Your next few meetings with San go on smoothly. You are always on time but he is still earlier than you, waiting for you at the coffee machine. You get both of you a coffee - sometimes two if you feel like it - and you two get to work in a comfortable silence sitting opposite to each other in the meeting room.

After San brought you his old exams you can now prepare exactly what you need to know for your next tests. But no matter how hard you try to focus on your studies, your eyes keep wandering from your books up to the handsome man working on his laptop.

You soon notice his seemingly endless closet full of tailored dressing shirts and perfectly matching pants. He always looks immaculate, not a single wrinkle on his shirt and his hair always neatly combed back. Even his skin is flawless to the point that you start questioning if Choi San might be a figment of your imagination.

Just like his outer appearance, his manners are immaculate. Like you already noticed on your first meeting, he is a sweet talker. Always knowing the right thing to say and never letting your conversation end in awkwardness.

Whenever he feels like taking a break you notice him starting to talk to you. At first he asks how your studies are going. Then he wanders off to the professors you two shared and how he managed to ace all his classes.

Your whole attention is glued to his lips. For one thing because the information he can provide you with is crucial to your academic development but much more importantly because his lips are the prettiest thing you have ever seen. They look so plump and smooth while he's talking that your mind can't help but wander to the other things he might be able to do with them besides talking.

If at your first meeting you were down bad for Choi San, one month later you felt like you were drowning and he was the last bit of oxygen left on earth. You wanted him with a passion that you didn't even know you were capable of.

But you couldn't have him. There was too much at stake. He still worked for your mother and if you made a move on him that he wouldn't reciprocate you would risk the eternal hate of the only woman that still held control over your life. And so far San hadn't shown any sign of feeling the same way about you that you did for him.

„You're stuck on that?" San suddenly asks you over the page of biochemistry that you've been staring at for a solid five minutes. You haven't spared a single thought on the topic in front of you. Your mind is only occupied by the thought of San leaning over you on the meeting chair, your chin in between his slender fingers as he smirks down at you. You hate him for having this effect on you when you so desperately need to focus on your studies.

You really need to get your thoughts together.

„Oh no I was just getting carried away," you answer, looking at him pointedly with a sly smile.

You tried little attacks like this on him before. A casual pull down of your shirt, stretching your arms to make it ride up over your stomach or even looking directly at his lips as he spoke. But no matter how daring you get you can never catch San slipping.

His eyes stay on yours only whenever he looks at you, his tone is always polite and never goes farther than a casual joke. You simply can't draw a single reaction from him and it drives you insane.

„Do you need a small break? We could get another coffee," he offers helpfully.

I don't want a damn coffee I want you to fuck me on this meeting table.

"I'd love to, but I'm already way too warm today. I fear the AC can't fight against the heat anymore."

It has gotten exponentially hotter over the past days and you can feel it even inside the modern building.

"You're right, it's quite hot in here," San says with a disappointed face. "What a shame we don't have iced coffee. We should get some on Tuesday!"

His eyes light up in excitement and this little sliver of pure happiness doesn't escape you. It's surprising how cute he can be with that shamelessly hot body of his.

"Do you know a place near?" You ask to drag on the conversation. You yourself know at least 3 cafés in the area that sell iced coffee but you want San to tell you a place. Maybe his favourite. So that you can go and think of him.

"Yes, I can show you!" he answers proudly.

"I'd love to." You send him a gentle smile with long eye contact before both of you look back at your work.

But your concentration withers away like the dying plant in the corner of the room when Choi San begins undoing the buttons of his shirt sleeves.

You know you shouldn't but your eyes immediately watch as his slender fingers start neatly folding up his sleeves. The muscles in his underarms dance beneath his skin as inch after inch of skin gets revealed.

You feel like a medieval man salivating over exposed ankles as you stare at San's arms. The veins are protruding in the heat and his honey skin is glistening under the bland neon lights.

Your heartbeat quickens and it's mostly because it feels like you finally found San slipping. Him rolling up his sleeves is like a crack in his perfect mask and you are certain that he wouldn't do it anywhere else in the company. He only does this because he is with you.

"Shoot," he suddenly exclaims and draws your attention up to his face. You catch the small pout that appears on his lips before he looks back at you.

"What is it?" you ask him.

"I forgot to book the meeting room for Tuesday and now everything is blocked. There is a work event next week. I should've booked it earlier."

"Oh," you simply reply. This is even more confusing. You don't believe that San would ever forget such an important event. Is he trying to get rid of you?

"Don't worry about it, darling." His smirk and the nickname has you fighting for air. "I'll find us something else."

You can only nod at him with a smile. Maybe he isn't trying to get rid of you.

The rest of your study/work time flies by as your mind thinks of all the possible meeting places you and San could have for Tuesday. You feel like a highschool girl dreaming about dates with your crush but you don't care. The man that is supposed to be tutoring you just makes your heart speed up in a way that you haven't experienced ever before.

When your meeting time comes to an end and San starts packing up his stuff he simply says: "How about we meet at my place next time? I don't like working in cafés it's always so crowded and noisy. And I have coffee too."

You snap up at him in surprise at the proposal. "Sure," you reply as nonchalantly as you can at the prospect of going to Choi San's apartment. Alone. With him.

"I can pick you up here with my car after work. So you don't have any extra way."

"That sounds good," you reply with a small smile, trying not to sound too excited.

"Then until next week," he says with one of his handsome smiles and you say your goodbyes before you can turn even redder in his presence.

When you walk onto the elevator this time and the door closes behind you, your heart is pounding into your throat. As the realization sets in that you will be alone with Choi San in his apartment a satisfied smile set over your face. Oh you will use that chance for sure.

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

You spend the entire day preparing for your tutor appointment with San. Something deep inside you tells you that this behaviour is ridiculous but you push this inner voice back down as you play your favourite music and get ready.

You wear your hair in light waves and put on makeup to bring out your eyes but not look overly done up. Your outfit was a tricky matter but you settled on a classic pleated skirt and a tight long-sleeve. Everything about your appearance today lands on the thin line between innocent and suggestive and you are satisfied when you twirl around in front of the mirror.

All you want is one small reaction out of the man that you have thirsted for over the past weeks. If Choi San even so much as lets his eyes scan you up and down, your mission would be successful. Lost in your task of getting ready you almost forget to actually pack your study books before heading to your mothers company.

You two agreed on San picking you up at the company's garage. So you are taking down the elevator to the parking floor and checking yourself one last time in your phone camera before stepping into the parking lot.

Having no idea how his car looks like you pull up your chat with San, wanting to ask him where to go. But before you can type your message a calm voice calls you over from across the parking lot.

"Y/n!"

You turn around to a sight that makes your heart flutter. San is leaning onto his car, a chic black Mercedes. His white dress shirt has one button unbuttoned and his sleeves are rolled up again. His feet are crossed over each other leisurely as he waits for you to come over.

Walking up to him you have to try real hard to look casual and not like your nerves are taking over you with the impending situation of being in the same car as San for an undefined amount of time. Your heart is beating already and he hasn't even called you any nicknames yet.

"Hello, San. You're not wearing glasses today?" you notice in surprise and hope it doesn't come off as too attentive.

"Sometimes I wear contacts," he replies smoothly. "It's a styling decision."

While you love the glasses on San seeing him without has a different charm to it. Almost like he is showing you a different side of him.

"Ready to go?" you ask him to keep the conversation going and you're almost proud of your nonchalant tone.

"Ready when you are," he replies with a light smile and walks around the car to open the door for you.

Of course he opens the door for me.

Before you can get in he also takes your bag from you to store it in the back. You want to refuse but one of his smiles finally makes you give in and you hand him the bag. Finally, you thank him and sit down in the passenger seat. The car looks even nicer on the inside: leather seats and perfectly clean. Something inside you starts questioning where this man hides his flaws since noone can possibly be this perfect at all times.

"It's only a 20 minute drive," San explains as he gets into the driver's seat and turns on the engine. You can't help but watch his hands as he manages the gearshift. But as he turns around to look for obstacles his eyes get stuck on you. For a second you think you got him. That his eyes linger on you for a little too long because you finally pulled a reaction out of him.

"You haven't even put your seatbelt on, darling."

And with that your mind is blank. Simple emptiness.

Before you can react, his hand reaches past you, grabbing the seatbelt and plugging it in. His hand doesn't so much as grace your shoulder for a millisecond but you feel like your lungs are constricting.

"Thanks," you breath out before he finally pulls out of the parking spot. He does that wildly attractive thing where he put his hand on the back of the passenger's seat while driving backwards and you feel like losing it already. How will you survive being in the same apartment with this man. San however seems his usual chatty self.

"I'm sorry again for not booking the meeting room in time. I already reserved it for the weeks to come," he starts talking to you.

"Don't worry. I totally don't mind," you answer and regret it immediately. Did that sound too eager? Something about Sam's presence makes you overthink every single word you say.

"I have a fancy coffee machine at home so I can at least return the favour of you getting me coffee all the time."

You smile at that. It feels like this little inside thing between you two how you always use your company privileges to pay for both of your coffee. San thanks you every single time, bringing up how much you save his day.

"I never thought you were that much of a coffee guy at home too," you say trying to get him to tell you more about himself.

"You're acting like I didn't go through pharmacy as well!" He replies with a slightly sulky tone. "No way to survive that major without getting addicted to coffee."

You chuckle at his response. "That's true unfortunately. So you just carried the addiction into your job?"

"You could state it like that but by buying a fancy machine you can just say that coffee is your hobby instead."

Whenever you two talk about mundane topics like this you can't help but be glued to his lips. To get a glimpse of the Choi San that isn't working over-hours all the time and kept up his perfect image at all costs. You want to find out the details about him. Like how he enjoys his coffee or what colour he might like best.

You continue the drive in casual chatter like this before finally reaching your destination. As San pulls into an underground parking lot of an apartment building your heart rate quickens again. Something about seeing his apartment makes you incredibly nervous.

He tells you to wait inside the car after he lets the motor die down so that he can open the door for you again. Even this small gesture has you wrapped around his finger and you smile as you try to step out of the car as gracefully as you can.

San leads you into an elevator and as soon as the doors close you feel reminded of your first meeting. Of how he took your breath away just by standing next to you in such a small space. And now there isn't much difference. He still makes you just as nervous. But at least you can talk to him now.

"How is studying for your exams going so far?" He asks casually.

"It's okay," you reply lamely. "I'm trying my best."

"You know if you actually do need my help you can obviously ask me," he offers alluding to your deal of him basically just getting his own work done instead of tutoring you.

"You've already helped me so much. All I need to do now is actually study," you say turning down his argument.

You idiot, you think to yourself. You could've at least pretended to need his help.

You wait in silence as the remaining floors rush past you. You're surprised with every passing number, wondering what floor San might be living on. But the elevator doesn't stop until the highest floor.

San let's you exit first which makes no sense to you since you don't know where to go. So you wait for him to show you the way to his apartment.

As soon as he unlocks the door and leads you two inside you curiously scan his place. On a first glance it looks almost exactly like you expected: it's very clean and tidy, the furniture is modern and rather minimalistic and the whole place carries a simple colour theme of black and chrome with only hints of colour. The entrance leads straight into an open living room that connects to the kitchen.

"Make yourself at home at the dinner table," San offers while gesturing at the big, black table that looks like straight out of a design magazine.

You both place your shoes neatly at the entrance of his apartment before you take your bag to the table. As you choose a seat from which you can look outside the gigantic window front, San heads over to the kitchen, getting something from a cupboard.

"Can I get you a glass of water before I make some coffee?" He asks you with a kind smile.

"That would be nice," you answer even though water was not what you were craving right now.

He filled one for you and brought it over before returning to the kitchen. "You want your coffee hot or iced?"

"Iced? This is better service than at the company. You should forget to book the meeting room more often." It's a weak attempt at flirting with him but he laughs non the less.

"So iced it is?" He confirms with you again and turns on his electric coffee grinder after you nod approvingly.

It shouldn't captivate you that much, looking at him while he was performing such a basic task as making coffee. But you could watch him for hours, the way his broad back stretches out his dress shirt. The way he moves around so smoothly. The way the muscles in his arms flex as he handles his espresso machine.

You turn towards your study materials just in time before he faces you again, two iced coffees in his hands. He places one gently in front of you before he sits down opposite of you.

"Thank you," you smile at him extra sweetly.

"Anything you want, darling."

You swear to yourself that if he calls you darling one more time you will throw all rational thoughts out of the window and straddle him right here in his stupid designer living room chair. But for now you settle for a coy smile as you feel your cheeks heat up.

To add to your demise, as San drags his chair closer to the table both of your knees touch for a brief second before he casually changes his seating position. The table is narrower than the one in the meeting room and knowing that your legs are mere inches from another makes you even more delusional. What if he did that on purpose?

After that, all concentration for your studies is far gone. It doesn't help at all that the iced coffee he made you was the best you had in ages and with every sip you keep wondering what Choi San isn't good at.

I just know he fucks good there's no other way, you think to yourself but get interrupted in your thoughts.

"Are you stuck on something?" San asks you and you almost don't even dare to raise your eyes to look at him. A kind of shame overcomes you as you realize what you have been thinking about while he worries about your studies.

You sigh to buy yourself time to find an answer that doesn't include: Yes, I'm stuck because I can't think of anything but your body on top of mine.

"Yeah, I just can't seem to concentrate well lately. Maybe I'm stressed out because of my finals."

It isn't fully a lie. Your finals are approaching steadily and with you thirsting over your tutor instead of studying you are indeed starting to worry.

"I would love to tell you that grades don't matter too much but I know your mother won't agree and I will probably face her anger too if you fail," he laughs at the end of his sentence to lighten the mood but quickly notices he only stressed you more by saying that.

"I'm sorry," he quickly retracts. It feels like the first time you caught him messing up his smooth way of talking which in return makes you smile.

"No, you're right. I just never thought about the fact that she will hate both of us if I mess up. What a way to relax."

"I shouldn't have said that," San again apologizes. "I'm sure you will do amazing though. After all you studied so much."

He finishes his sentence with a wink and you must stare at him for a second like an idiot. Did you just imagine that? Or is he alluding to something? Does Choi San know that you thirsted for him this entire fucking time?

But his further actions don't allow you to think much more.

"You look quite tense actually," he continues. "You know it's not good for your back to sit stiff like this for a prolonged amount of time. Your neck must be hurting?"

You have no idea what he is talking about. And your confusion only grows as San gets up from his chair heading in your direction. Every step he comes closer to you has your heart pumping erratically. Even though you dreamed about him being closer to you and finally paying you more attention you are now paralysed at the situation unfolding. Simply being close to him renders your entire body useless.

San steps behind you and, to your absolute shock and amazement, his hands gently grasp your shoulders.

"To compensate the stress from university I took a physiology course that taught us how to massage tense muscles."

As if to proof his words his thumbs gently start rubbing circles into your neck. The warmth of his fingers seeps through your thin shirt and fills your entire body. It feels like he set you on fire with this simple touch.

All of this cannot be real. This must be a figment of your imagination or you actually fell asleep on your study notes while dreaming about San. But his voice sounds very much real when he resumes:

"You have to relax, otherwise I'll hurt you." His voice drops lower than usual and as he gently drapes your hair over one shoulder to get it out of his way you can feel his breath fanning over your neck. Goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

But amid the fire burning in your veins and your clouded mind you actually manage to ease into his fingers and allow him to loosen up your muscles.

"That's a good girl," he rasps behind you and you know you tipped over the edge now. There is no going back from this. You feel like a doll in his hands. His words are electrifying, leaving you unable to utter a single word, to make a single sound. Your mind is running on a state of emergency. Nothing seems to get to you but the fact that San is touching you.

And oh is he good at it. His hands are pressing into all the right places relieving all the pent up tension you built ever since getting ready for this meeting today. If his fingers are already this good at massaging out your stress you can't help but think about what else they can do.

"How do you feel?" He asks. His voice is still low and his tone taunting, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

"Better," you answer. Your voice is merely a whisper. You sound weak, even in your own ears, and wonder if he even heard you.

"Yeah? Then how is this?" With his question his thumbs dip beneath the collar of your shirt and massage your upper back a little lower.

You can't help but close your eyes. The low tone of his voice, his fingers on your skin and the playfulness of his words. All of this is so overwhelming you can only lean back and revel in his touch.

"It feels so good," you manage to breath out when you realize he asked you a question.

He bends down a little, his mouth now right next to your ear. "Should I make you feel even better?"

He is quite literally the devil on your shoulder. Everything in your body screams for you to say yes immediately. The unspoken promise has your entire body on fire and you almost give in to your desire. But a tiny speck of reasonable thinking pulls you back into the dangerous territories you are moving in right now.

"What do you mean?" you ask carefully. You know that this is everything you wanted for the past few weeks but still you can't help being confused about his sudden change.

His left hand wanders from your back to your chin, tilting it to the side so you can look at him. The look in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine. His pupils are dilated and he is looking at you like he is preying on you. The intensity is something you have never seen in him before.

"You are far too smart to be asking that question, darling," he replies smugly.

"But you were never interested in me?" You ask back and want to hit yourself on the spot. Why are you even asking questions when the man you've desired for weeks finally seems to be making a move on you? But after all he is acting very out of character.

San chuckles, never taking his eyes off of you. "You're so cute. All these weeks that you've been wanting me and now you ask what I'm doing?"

Your mouth opens in shock. So he did in fact know all this time that you were interested in him.

"Don't act all surprised now, darling. You really thought I didn't see the way you looked at me ever since we first met? How your eyes keep focusing on my arms in my tight shirts. How you steal glances at me when you think I'm not looking? I wanted to see how long I could leave you thirsting like this before you would break."

His confession has you gasping as you realize you weren't even faintly as indiscreet as you thought you were. Instead San was playing with you the entire time. Watching your every move.

"Desperation looks so cute on you," he adds with another devilish smile. His fingers continue drawing circles into your back as his burning eyes keep you fixed in your spot. You feel bewitched by his entire presence, like he has cast a spell on you.

"I made all this effort to get you into my apartment so we both don't have to risk our lives by having me ruin you on the meeting table and still you didn't even have a clue. I'm almost disappointed if you weren't so cute when you are surprised like this." A satisfied grin plays around his plump lips, as if he revelling in the taste of this sweet opportunity in his hands. "Now be a good girl for me and finally do what you've been wanting to do for weeks. Tell me you want me."

You haven't taken a single breath since he started talking and as a result your head feels dizzy. It takes a short moment before you can finally form the words that your head is screaming at you.

"Please," you whisper pathetically.

"Please what, darling?" San revels in the way you can barely speak.

"Please ruin me."

You can basically see the fire behind his eyes ignite as you speak those three words. His hand wanders to your cheek, grabbing it firmly. He takes his sweet time to let his thumb run over your bottom lip, eyes trailing after his own movement.

"With pleasure."

Finally, his lips press onto yours in a desperate kiss. They feel just as soft as they always looked to you, but he kisses you with a roughness that is almost contradictory. The combination is intoxicating. As you reciprocate the kiss, heat runs through your limbs in shockwaves.

Suddenly impatient, San interrupts the kiss to pull you up and out of the chair by your arms. Grabbing your waist he manhandles you onto the dinner table instead, lifting you onto the ledge as if it was nothing.

Your hands bury in his hair as both your lips meet again in a rushed embrace. In return, San wedges one of his legs between yours and spreads your knees so he can stand between them. The way he handles you makes heat pool in your core. San has a determination to his every move that makes you want to do whatever he could want from you.

One of his hands still tightly grasping your waist, the other winds in your hair as he deepens the kiss. When his tongue enters your mouth you arch your back wanting to diminish every centimetre between you two. Your head is dizzy, completely overwhelmed by his every touch.

San's firm hands are restless on your heated body. His fingers quickly find a way to shift under your shirt and his thumb draws circles into the bare skin of your stomach. Choi San feels like a drug. His touch just as intoxicating as you always dreamed it to be.

He removes his mouth from your lips only to latch onto the fragile skin behind your ears, kissing his way around your neck. You let your head fall back to give him better access and when he starts sucking on your skin you relieve a small whimper.

You can feel San smirking into your skin as he sucks even more. It's like he has found your weakness and is now shamelessly using it to make you melt beneath his fingers. And it's working so well. Your hands lose grip on his hair as you lose your ability to focus on anything but San's lips on your neck.

"Don't tap out on me already, darling. I'm only getting started," he rasps into your ear in between kisses. You draw in a shaky breath at his words. Your legs feel like jelly even as your sitting down and you just know you won't be able to walk after San is finished with you.

He finally withdraws his lips and for a second just revels in your already dishevelled form: hair messy, red flush to your cheeks and lips glossy from kissing him.

"I'd love to have you on my dinner table but let's take this somewhere more comfortable for now," he says in a soft voice.

Hooking his hands under your thighs he picks you up from the table, carrying you towards his bedroom. Woken up from your trance by the change of motion you suddenly gain back some of your bite. While San is busied with carrying you, your fingers rush to the collar of his dress shirt. Oh how often you have dreamed of popping open those buttons one by one. And finally you have the pleasure to do so. A soft chuckle makes his chest move in front of you as San looks down on your actions.

"You couldn't wait, could you?"

"Why would I?" you reply cheekily as your hand smooths over his now exposed skin. He feels so soft and hot under your fingertips that you don't think you'll ever be able to detach.

San throws open his bedroom door with his shoulder and before you have a chance to take in the room you are thrown onto the plush bed. He follows behind immediately, hovering over you with both hands propped up next to your head. He lets his eyes run over your figure lazily, up and down.

"Don't even know where to start with you," he mumbles half to himself and half to you as he watches your chest rise and fall in heavy breaths. He decides to put on a show, sitting back on his heels and slowly continuing your work in unbuttoning his shirt.

Apart from his skin being exposed the simple act of opening some buttons shouldn't drive you as crazy as it does right now. It's simply the sexiest thing you have ever seen in your life. The way his hooded eyes stay on yours the entire time while one button after another falls open under his practiced movements.

You are moving on autopilot when you also sit up to take off your own shirt. You simply can't delay this any further. As your shirt lands somewhere beside the bed, San lets out a small groan, surprising you. He stopped in the middle of folding down his sleeves.

"How did you know that purple was my favourite colour?" He asks in a raspy voice. His eyes are raking over your deep purple bra with a desire in them that lets shivers run over your skin.

You can't imagine a better way to find out his favourite colour. You only chose it because it accentuates your skin tone but now it feels like fate to you. Finally, you are getting to the edges of Choi San. Getting to know him on a level that you were craving like the air you needed to breath.

"Good intuition," you reply. Your confidence surges under his heavy glances. Maybe a little too much. "Need help with that?" you ask him teasingly with a nod towards his shirt, which hangs open around his toned torso.

As soon as you speak those words you are getting pinned back to the bed, San's hand suddenly wrapped around your neck. He isn't putting any pressure on it yet but you can feel his strength pulsating around your neck. His broad shoulders are taking up most of your vision and with the way he glares at you you just know that you are soaked.

"Don't get too bold with me, darling," he says in a warning tone. "I'm the one in charge."

You look up at him through big, round eyes, lashes fluttering because you have a feeling that it will push just the right buttons in him.

"Go ahead then," you reply firmly. "Do whatever you want to me."

San sits up again and roughly tugs on his sleeves, finally discarding his shirt fully. Then his lips are on yours again in a heartbeat.

You greedily let your hands wander over his now fully exposed upper body. The muscles playing under his skin feel so good as he buries his hands in your hair. His biceps is so big that your fingers can barely wrap around it halfway. You can't get enough of touching his body which so far you only admired in fitted dressing shirts.

San kisses his way down from your lips again but this time he doesn't stop at your neck. Continuing down your chest he kisses the tender skin between your breasts. When he takes both hands to squish your breasts together, burying his face in between, you lose your last bit of composure.

"Please, San. Please just fuck me."

He lifts his head to smile at you devilishly. The fire behind his eyes seems so bright that you're scared it will never burn down again.

"Already begging for me? You're still half dressed and I'm only starting. Have a little patience."

As he finishes his words, his hand snakes behind your back to open your bra in a swift motion. He peels the straps off of you with a new found patience that makes you feel like you are suffocating.

When the piece of clothing lands on the floor, San's eyes are glued to your chest. Slowly, he lowers himself down again, gently taking on of your nipples into his mouth. As soon as his tongue starts lapping at you a string of moans escape you. He just feels so good.

Without ever losing focus on kissing and nipping on your chest, one of his hands wanders to your skirt. He finds the zipper so easily it feels like he has studied undressing you. He pushes it down your legs quickly, leaving you only in your underwear.

As his hand starts stroking your inner thighs, your eyes roll to the back of your head. He feels like a dream.

"Please San. Please touch me," the words leave your mouth in whispers. Silent pleas for him to finally give you what you want.

"Is my darling so stressed from studying that she needs her mind taken off of things?" His fingers trail over your clothed heat as he asks you in a sickly sweet voice. His eyes are focussed on your face, taking in how you crumble beneath his touch.

"Yes. Yes, please," you whimper desperately. Every touch feels like electricity on your skin.

"Want me to stuff you full so you can forget everything you've studied for for weeks?" He pushes your panties to the side, his fingers toying at your entrance.

"Please San..." you repeat yourself weakly. Finally he gives into your pleading and sinks two of his fingers into you. You are so wet that they glide in with ease. You suck in a harsh breath as he begins pumping them in and out of you.

"God you feel so good. Can't wait to fuck you, my darling. Bury my cock so deep into you you forget your own name."

His words make you shake beneath him. You had a lot of suspicions about San in the bedroom due to your extensive daydreaming about him. But never did you expect him to be so vocal and downright dirty with his words. It catches you off-guard and only heightens your pleasure.

San scoots up on the bed a little so his face is hovering over yours again, while he slips a third finger into your heat. "How do I feel?" he asks with a raspy tone to his voice.

"You feel so fucking good, San," you moan in answer. His fingers stretch you out so deliciously and he reaches this spot deep inside you that makes you arch your back with every thrust.

"Yeah, you wanna come on my fingers?" he rasps into your ear now, lips again attaching to your neck, sucking deep marks into your skin.

"Please, San." You feel like a broken record that's repeating the same thing over and over. You grow closer and closer to an orgasm with every motion of his fingers inside you. But San has other plans for you. And when he feels you desperately clenching around his fingers, he pulls them out of you.

"I'm sorry darling," he says immediately, even though his face doesn't display any regret. "But you look so pretty when you're desperate. And I want you to come on my cock when I make you fall apart for the first time."

You feel like crying. You want nothing more but to come and yet him taking it from you only makes you want him more. You would do anything for Choi San.

He stands up from the bed and opens his belt. But before he can take of his pants, he orders you over with a motion of his finger. You sit on your knees at the edge of the bed in seconds, looking up at him expectantly.

He doesn't say a word and only gestures for his painfully strained pants. You don't need any more hints to start opening his pants and pulling them down his legs desperately. You hook your fingers into his boxers too but look up at him once more before continuing. When he nods at you you finally pull them down as well.

You can't help but stare at San's length. He's big, just like you had always imagined and he was rock-hard. When San takes himself into his hand and gives himself a few strokes you open your mouth on your own, sticking out your tongue in anticipation of tasting him.

San starts gently. His other hand weaves into your hair and he pulls you onto his length slowly. You are able to take a good amount of him before his tip hits the back of your throat and you release a surprised moan. San closes his eyes momentarily as he relishes in the feeling of your hot mouth around him.

"Shit, you feel so good," he rasps out before he starts thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your hands seek hold on his muscular thighs and you look up at San through big and pleading eyes. Even though he isn't pleasuring you, this almost feels as good as having him bury his fingers inside you. All you ever dreamed about was him using you just like this and the feeling of it happening is so intoxicating you feel like you might pass out any second.

"Look at you enjoying my cock so damn much, that your eyes are losing focus," San chuckles. He looks down at you in disbelief as you mindlessly swirl your tongue around his cock. "You love being ruined by me, don't you?"

You can only manage a desperate nod and approving grunt as you continue sucking him of. No man has ever made you this desperate. As you look at him from beneath you feel like you have accomplished everything you ever wanted: his hair was dishevelled, his breaths uneven and a red tint painted his cheeks. All in all, Choi San lost his perfectly maintained appearance as you sucked on his cock and to you he looked 100 times prettier this way.

When his thrusts go sloppy, he pulls out of your mouth in a haste before he can come. "You're driving me crazy, darling," he grunts as he catches his breath for a second. In a more gentle tone he resumes: "Lay back on the bed for me, ok?"

You do as he says, laying down on your back in the middle of the bed, your body buzzing with the anticipation of what is to come. San goes to his dresser, opening a drawer to get a condom.

When he climbs over you he looks at you intensely. But at the same time his eyes hold a softness that makes you feel secure.

"Are you sure about going on, y/n?" he asks warmly. No petnames this time. He wants a clear answer.

"Never been so sure in my life," you reply with a smile and his lips mirror yours as he beams down at you.

Quickly he sits up to open the condom and roll it onto his member. Opening your legs with his knee he situates himself between you and positions his cock at your entrance. One hand on your hip and the other holding his cock, he slowly sinks himself into you while carefully observing your face.

Your eyes flutter when he is fully inside of you and you moan at the feeling. San releases a grunt as well and waits a few seconds deep inside of you.

"Fuck, you're so tight for me, my darling. Don't worry I won't stop this time until you come." And with that he starts thrusting into you. He begins with slow and deep thrusts but as soon as you get used to his size he speeds up rapidly.

His abs are flexing underneath is skin as he grabs onto your hip and pistons himself into you. With every thrust you can feel him hit this spongy part deep inside of you that makes heat build in your core with a throbbing intensity. Meanwhile you revel in the sight above you: San looks like a god. His muscular body moving above you is almost enough to push you over the edge but what's even more entrancing is his face. His expressions seem almost possessed. Like a demon took over him as soon as he started fucking you, he fixes his eyes onto yours.

"Am I fucking you good? Making you forget all your precious studies?" There they are again. His filthy words driving you down a one-way-road to insanity. "I hope you forget everything so you have to see me even more, darling. Then I can keep on fucking this tight little cunt over and over again."

"Fuck, San!" you moan out, being shocked by his words. His control over you is baffling and you can't help but grow closer and closer to your orgasm with every word.

"I know you like me like that, darling. Do me a favour and come on my cock so I can finally see you lose yourself will you?"

You can't form an answer. Endless moans tumble out of your mouth in increasing volume and San knows he has you exactly where he wants.

"Come for me."

Your orgasm hits you with an explosive intensity. Faintly, you notice yourself moan at a concerning volume as your high washes over your body. But San doesn't seem to mind. Your legs are shaking and he helps you ride out the feeling with slower strokes. He waits for your breath to slow down again before he leans down to you and places a gentle kiss onto your lips.

"I want you on your knees in front of me," he says sweetly as soon as your lips separate and your head is spinning. Still you manage to get up with the help of his arm beneath your waist and you let yourself be positioned in front of San, your back to him.

Since you didn't have the opportunity to examine his bedroom earlier you only now notice the big mirror on his wardrobe next to his bed. Looking ahead, you can now see yourself on your knees, sitting in front of San.

You look even more dishevelled than you feel: Your hair is all over the place and some of your eyeliner smudged and a handful of dark purple marks littering your neck. Also, a red tint covers your skin, making you look flushed. San behind you smirks as you examine your own figure.

"You look so pretty all messed up like this for me, don't you think?"

His arm wraps around your waist as he leans your body back onto his broad chest. You look tiny in front of his build.

"I'll make you look even prettier," he promises as he sinks himself back into you.

He picks up his intense pace from before and you already feel dizzy again. With his arm holding you tight he is basically lifting you up and down his cock. At this angle he is hitting you deeper than before and you are sure you won't last very long until your next high.

But nothing could've prepared you for the feeling of San winding his other arm around you too, his fingers gently starting to stroke your clit. Your head falls back onto San's shoulder as you give in to the mind-numbing pleasure that starts buzzing through your body.

"Keep your eyes on me, darling. I want to watch you fall apart."

His voice sounds sulky, almost cute. It doesn't match his relentless thrusts and his fingers pleasuring you. It takes all your strength to lift your head again and look at San through the mirror. His eyes are hooded now, a shin layer of sweat making his flawless skin shine in the evening light.

"You make me feel so good," you manage to say as San keeps on pounding into you. You want him to know how he makes you feel. How good he is being to you.

"Am I?" He smiles in satisfaction as he watches your brows draw together with a particularly deep thrust. "You too, darling. You feel so good around me I don't think I can last much longer. But you'll come one more time for me, right?"

His voice sounds so deep and sultry in your ears. "Of course, Sannie," you mumble absent-mindedly. You don't even notice the nickname until he chuckles behind you.

"How can you be so cute and so sexy at the same time? You'll be the death of me, my good little girl."

He places a kiss onto your cheek and that is what finally drives you over the edge.

"Fuck, San. I'm coming," you moan out before your high crashes over you. If he wasn't holding you, you would fall to the ground. You try to hold eye contact with San through the reflection but your eyes keep on shutting as waves of pleasure roll over you. You have never felt such an intensity before.

But San's thrust don't slow down this time. He keeps on rutting into you relentlessly, driving you to insanity. You feel like you're swimming in a pool of pleasure.

"I'm close, darling. Just a little longer," San's voice is pitched higher than before, sounding just as desperate as you feel. You want nothing more but for him to come.

"Please, Sannie. I want you to come so bad."

Your desperate pleas are San's final straw. Clutching your body tight to his own, he finishes with his cock buried deep inside you. You can feel him pulsating in your heat and your moans mix into his grunts as you milk him for every last drop of his cum.

As you both slowly recover San pulls out of you and gently lays you back onto the bed. You can't do anything but catch your breath while he gets up to rid himself of the condom and return to you with a glass of water.

"Drink something," he urges you on and you take the glass from him. He watches you with a tinge of worry in his eyes. After taking a few sips you offer the glass back to him.

"You should drink some too, I'm sure you worked your body more than I did."

He smiles at your words and takes some water too before returning the glass to his bedside table. When he looks back at you there is a heaviness to his gaze that worries you.

"What is it?" you ask.

San takes a deep breath before answering you. "No matter what I said to you before, I actually didn't expect us to tumble into this as quickly as we did right now. And I want you to know that I didn't do this to use you or take any advantage of you."

His hand nervously grabs for the back of his neck. "Actually, I've been interested in you ever since we first met but I fear the tension between us was quicker than both of us."

You try to process his words even in your hazy state of mind. A spark of excitement surges through your body as you realize what he is saying.

"I feel the same, San," you reply truthfully. "I like you. And not just because you're insanely handsome."

You are glad when he laughs shyly at your words.

"So maybe I can take you out on a date that doesn't involve work or pharmacy studies sometime?"

"I hope sometime means this week, because I waited long enough for you already."

After everything that happened this evening, this moment when he smiles at you might be what makes your heart beat the fastest. You can't believe your luck as you look Choi San into the eyes and he leans in for a kiss.

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

"This was a stupid idea," you say to San but maybe more to yourself. "I should tell her alone."

"How will she ever respect me again if I let you do this alone?" San replies worriedly. "She told me to tutor you and now here we are. I will look terrible either way."

You have never seen him this nervous. But after all, your mother has the ability to make everybody scared for their life. You two pass her assistant's desk with a polite greeting as you head straight for your mother's office. She knows you are coming but she doesn't know you're bringing company.

You knock carefully on the door until her voice calls you in. Your mother stays seated as you two enter the room. She doesn't look surprised or confused about San's appearance but rather intrigued.

"Why are you visiting me today, y/n?" she asks simply.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you prepare for answering.

"I have something to announce to you," you start off as confident as you can.

Your mother's eyes flick between you and San. "Go on."

"San- ... Mr. Choi and I, we are..." your voice is shaking. Why is this so hard for you?

But San grabs for your hand, linking his fingers with yours as he confidently finishes your sentence: "We are in a relationship, director Kim."

His boldness strikes you as admiring. Maybe he was right about accompanying you.

A silence that draws out unbearably long fills the room. You feel like your lungs are being compressed with every passing second.

Then your mother smiles. It's not exactly a smile of happiness. It speaks more of victory.

"Finally," she announced. "It took you two longer than I expected."

Now it's your turn to be silent. Both you and San are stunned in your places.

Finally you find your voice to ask: "What do you mean, mom?"

She smiles at you in satisfaction.

"You see: Mr. Choi is a good man. He's a gentleman, treats his colleagues with the utmost respect, excels at his job and is handsome too. How could I find a better match for my beloved daughter? But I know you wouldn't be interested if I were to formerly introduce you two so I thought I'd help you in a different way."

Your mouth falls open in shock. Out of all things, your mother purposefully setting you up with San has never even crossed your mind. Your boyfriend seems even more shocked at the revelation than you, his face reddened and a stunned expression on his face.

"So you set us two up?" You finally ask your mother.

"Of course I did! And it worked out brilliantly, don't you think? I'm glad you both came to tell me. Mr. Choi?"

San perks up at her words. "Yes?"

"I assume you will take good care of my daughter?"

"Of course I will," he replies sternly, voice full of sincerity. "I will do everything care for y/n." His words make you feel warm and fuzzy.

Your mother nods approvingly. "Then you two may leave. I still have work to do."

You both nod hastily and thank your mother before turning back for the door.

"Oh, before I forget. Y/n?" your mother asks one last time.

"Yes?"

"I received your test results that you sent me. They look very promising."

I hope you enjoyed <3 Pls reblog and leave feedback if you can :)

Tags: @voicesinmyhead-rc

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