#i know too much and i think about it all the time

[lokissweater]

to be known .𖥔 ݁ ˖

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: it’s time to meet papa gojo! and you are absolutely shitting it the moment megumi pulls into his dad’s driveway regardless of his countless reassurance— wanting nothing more than for his dad to like you and earn his respect. in the midst of all the chaos, gojo spontaneously suggests then you all take a trip up to the mountains, you absolutely ecstatic that you get to spend a little getaway with the people you love most. but when gojo reveals to you a heavy— more serious part of megumi’s life that completely throws you by surprise, sorrowful words leave your boyfriend’s mouth upon confrontation.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, FILTHY AFF SMUTT, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it y’all), oral, pussy eating and fingerin YEOWW, DIRTY TALK, squirting, DOMINANT MEGUMI Y’ALL ALREADY KNOW, fluufff!, pet names, cursing, SAD MEGUMI LORE :(, angst af but with comfort, DEVOTED MEGUMI MY LORD!, all characters are aged up.

word count: 18.6k (BROOO LMFAOAOAO I CAANTTT IM SORRY—)

authors note: PARTT THREEE AWWW FUCK MAN!!! this one is centered around megumi and i hope to GODDDD YOU GUYS LOVE IT AS MUCH AS I DO! the amount of love i have gotten from this series is actually fucking CRAZAAYYY i cannot be more thankful i truly cannot express how much you guys mean to me i do not have words but all i can say is that i love you all SO fucking much!! MWAAHHH <333

i highly advise you to read the other parts of this series or else you won’t be able to understand some of the storyline and references :( you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

the minute megumi pulled into gojo’s driveway, you started rambling.

“do i look okay? wait gumi did my hair get messed up when i rolled down the window? fuck! is my top too skimpy? hold on do you think he’ll like the sweets i brought? or should we drive to the market oh god take me to the market—”

megumi reached over and squished your cheeks together with his right hand, muffling your speech and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“you’re fine baby.” he mumbled, gently letting go of your face and unbuckling both your seatbelt and his. “you have nothing to worry about.”

“i have everything to worry about!” you whined. “this is your dad gumi this is so so important and i can literally feel it in my bones how i’m about to fuck this up it’s my sixth sense it’s flaring up—”

he snorted and shook his head, nudging your forehead gently with his index finger.

“stop. put away your sixth sense.”

you smirked.

“only if you pull your big one out if you know what i me—”

megumi whipped his head in your direction with wide eyes and pink cheeks as you slipped into a fit of giggles, you leaning over the console and pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek— a little sly grin slipping from his mouth as you settled back into your seat.

“what?” you shrugged your shoulders, feigning innocence. “i thought i could tell you anything? is this relationship not built out of trust? out of honesty?”

“not if it’s making my dick hard in the middle of my dad’s driveway.” he muttered, and you giggled relentlessly again.

“i’m sorry gumi i’m sorry—” you reached up and caressed his spiky hair softly. “do you wanna put your hand on my tit? maybe it’ll help with—”

“baby!” he gasped. “what is with you right now-”

“gumi— it’s every time you wear that godforsaken white button up it’s driving me nuts and now i’m gonna have to restrain my whore alter ego until we get back to your apartment—”

megumi threw his head back and laughed, his rare big smile shining as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in, stuffing your face into his chest as you felt his laughter buzz through.

you embraced each other for a quiet moment, his quick heartbeat vibrating against your ear as you cheekily smiled at the speeding rate of it, yours no doubt matching in rhythm with his if not fucking worse as he kissed the top of your head and released you.

“i hope your dad likes me…” you murmured, looking down at your hands and fiddling with the hem of your top.

“he will.” he pushed gently. “trust me please.”

megumi lifted his hand and ran an affectionate thumb over your little cheek, face blank. “i’m more worried about gojo than i’m worried about you.”

“really?” you tilted your head. “how come gumi?”

“because he’s insane.” he responded bluntly, and your mouth flew open as he let his hand fall and settle over your thigh. 

“what— he’s your dad— what do you mean—”

he shrugged a little, but you could tell he was apprehensive.

“he can be a bit much s’all.” 

stuffing his keys into his pocket, megumi opened the door and stepped out, smoothly jogging over to the other side and opening yours as you gave him a cute smile in return, hopping out.

walking up the steps of gojo’s driveway felt like you were stepping into the gates of mount fucking olympus— his house ginormous and elegant with the biggest lawn you had ever seen, intricate gold arrangements running across his front double doors as you approached, all that had you completely in awe and astonished and thankful over the place that megumi grew up in— knowing that without this upbringing he wouldn’t be doing what he was giftedly doing now on baseball fields across the country.

he reached and pushed the doorbell, a grandeous chime ringing through the air as you nervously bounced on your feet holding the little treats you brought for his dad, megumi looking at you from the side and giving you a little reassuring squeeze through your interlocked fingers, easing your jitters a bit.

the doors swung open then— dramatically and flashy as a tall fluffy white haired man stood in the middle with his arms out, his striking blue eyes and significant smile making you freeze in place.

he was respectfully kind of handsome… anybody with eyes could probably see that. and you wanted nothing more at that moment than for him to think highly of you and like you just as much as you already did him— for anyone who took megumi under his wing and raised a man that was as gentle and kind as he was, was worth knowing.

“meguuumiiii!”

“oh god—”

gojo threw his long arms around his shoulders and mushed a cheek up against megumi’s head, rubbing it endearingly from side to side as he gushed and cooed.

“aw my son my son my son! it’s been too long so long—”

“i saw you last week.” megumi grumbled as he tried to push him off, gojo’s grip only tightening in response.

he gasped. “nonsense! i hardly remember.”

and you giggled, gojo’s eyes snapping to yours then and widening as he practically shoved megumi off and stretched his arms out for you.

“and you!” he pulled you in and squished you up against his chest. “you’re the one who melted megumi’s cold dark treacherous mean heart you sweet tiny thing—”

“gojo let her go.”

“—such grace such talent how did you get him to start being nice?! i saw it on the mlb network—”

“satoru.”

“i can’t even get him to tell me that he loves me he’s an ungrateful little brat—”

megumi quickly stepped around and snaked his arms around your waist— pulling and yanking as gently as he possibly could but finding it difficult seeing as his dad was being fucking mental towards you, the both of them bickering and literally wrestling as you tugged and swayed limply in between.

“off. now.”

“megumi release her you’re throwing around your wife—”

“you’re squishing her get— off!”

a little oven ping made gojo stand upright, an eager excited expression on his face as he quickly let you go, took the treats you brought with a thank you, and started skipping inside the house— megumi catching you as you stumbled back a little with gojo’s voice gradually fading from your ears.

“you guys come in come in! i wanna show you something i just bought its international meaning not from here—”

megumi groaned and slumped his forehead to rest on your shoulder, your back to him as he held your waist a bit tighter… and you really couldn’t help but giggle a little at their theatrics, craning your head in attempts at getting his attention.

“what’s wrong?” you asked softly, trying to wiggle your body around to face him but his grip stubbornly preventing you from doing so.

“nothing.”

“are you lying?”

“yeah.”

you laughed. “tell me baby…”

“…he’s gonna scare you away.” he mumbled.

“scare me away?” you huffed out a shocked laugh. “gumi— with every passing day that we’re together i feel like i’m gonna scare you away.”

he snorted and shook his head at your stupid statement, finally lifting himself up as you took advantage of the opportunity and turned around, giving him a comforting smile.

“i like him!” you beamed. “he’s funny, and he gave me a hug! that’s a good sign is it not? he doesn’t hate my guts yet right?”

megumi gave you a look. “he won’t ever.”

“we don’t know that…” you muttered, letting megumi interlace your fingers and pull you inside the house. “i haven’t started talking his ear off about the atrocious sandwich i had this morning—”

you looked at him. “you know the one i let you try back at the—”

“—ohh that’s right.” he tilted his head in thought. “it was pretty bad though it was dry..”

“right?! they didn’t even put mayo in it and i love mayo or something at least more—” you froze. “fuck! baby see?!”

megumi chuckled and caressed the back of your hand with his thumb. “see what?”

“see what.” you muttered with pursed lips, eyes to the floor. “you indulge my yapping gumi and that’s bad.”

“because i like it.”

“do you also like it when i get on top and—”

“oh my god—”

“taadaa!”

gojo’s arms were stretched out in the spacious enormous living room that was probably bigger than your own freaking house combined— long grey lounge sofas along the center over marble flooring and a modernized coal fireplace behind him, all adorned with a glittery gold chandelier shining beautifully from the ceiling like a stunning halo.

“my new installment.” he smiled cheesily. “my pride and joy.”

“you bought… a chandelier.” megumi mumbled.

“mhm! sure did!”

“why.”

“to keep me company.”

“to keep—”

“megumi if you don’t want me to be happy you can just admit that this is a safe space—”

you quickly slapped a hand over your mouth to suppress your laugh, gojo giving you a little grin before turning his attention back to a grumbling megumi.

“every time i come here you’ve spent money on dumb shit.”

you gasped. “gumi!—”

“oh it’s okay sweetheart don’t worry.” he crossed his arms. “i’m used to his abuse.”

“don’t tell her that.“ he looked to you. “he’s being dramatic okay—”

“am not!” gojo pointed a finger. “he’s lying! come ‘ere y/n let me explain—”

“no.”

megumi tightened his hand around your interlocked fingers, mumbling. “can we just get on with dinner please.”

and his dad perked up with a big smile. “oh that’s right!”

gojo happily paved the way through the house, rambling about the various layers of his chandelier and how each crystal was imported from the ‘labyrinths of italy’ (as he put it), you trying your absolute best to listen and respond politely, but having a hard time seeing as you felt like a dark black misty fog was swirling around megumi that shot a chill up your spine, his head down to the floor as you eyed him worriedly.

you stoop up on your tippy toes and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, his gaze flickering to yours then and he weakly flashed you a wary tiny smile.

“s’okay gumi!” you whispered cutely, reaching and running your fingers lovingly through his hair with your unoccupied hand. “everything is going great, don’t stress.”

“are you okay?” he murmured, and you nodded rapidly, dropping your arm.

“of course i am!” you spoke gently. “i’m worried about you though.”

“m’fine.” he shook his head, squeezing your hand. “i’m fine if you’re fine.”

unbeknownst to you, gojo didn’t miss the little chatter that was going on behind him with your endearing words, and he smiled softly to himself— your interaction and the way you spoke to each other slightly lifting a brooding weight from his chest that had been there since megumi was a teen.

upon arriving at the dining room, both you and megumi’s eyes widened as they looked over the mass amounts of various dinner foods lined neatly across the center, all of which strongly resembled a stereotypical thanksgiving feast as the platters glistened and shined with various juices and cooking oils.

“you made this much food knowing it was just us three?” megumi mumbled.

gojo quickly nodded his head. “uh huh!”

“and did you actually make it?”

“uh huh!”

megumi gave him an annoyed look. “did you?”

“nuh uh!”

megumi’s shoulders slumped and he covered his eyes in disappointment, lips pulled into a thin line as you giggled to yourself.

“i still think it looks great!” you replied sweetly. “do you need help setting up the table? i can go grab—”

“oh no! god no you sit.” he grinned. “megumi can do it.”

“but i—”

megumi scooched a chair out and gently pulled you to sit, pushing it in as you did before wordlessly disappearing behind a wall into the kitchen to do as he was told, a slow sneaky little grin spreading across gojo’s face as he watched.

quickly, he slammed his hands flat on the table and looked at you with big excited eyes as you stiffened, alarm crossing your face as you fidgeted and squirmed under his stare.

“who said i love you first? who kissed who first? who confessed first? have you guys done the freaky freak yet—”

you choked on your spit as your cheeks blazed at his last question, trying to come up with a proper answer to all of them but only stammering nervously as he kept throwing questions at you.

“oh! well— well he— and i—”

“who initiated the freaky freak—”

“gojo.”

your heads snapped to a disgusted megumi with pinched brows, his hands occupied with dark blue porcelain stacked plates, silverware, and napkins.

“what the hell are you asking her—”

“what?! you won’t tell me and she was just about to! haven’t i raised you to wait until a conversation between two people is finished before butting in-”

“looked more like harassment.” he mumbled as he placed the shiny plates and silverware down in front of each of you, you laughing cutely at his comment and megumi shooting you a small smile.

gojo gasped. 

“how dare you?! i would never do such a thing to your precious little girlfriend!” his eyes snapped to yours, a pleading puppy dog look on his face. “you know that right?”

you giggled and nodded quickly, waving him off reassuringly. “it’s okay! really i don’t mind anything at all.”

“see!” gojo spat. “she accepts me.”

“you’re lucky she does.” megumi countered, coming around and sitting down on the chair next to you, scooting up before placing a soft hand over your thigh under the table.

megumi was suffering on the inside over gojo’s behavior and completely fucking embarrassed that you had to see him act this way, though he honestly should have expected it— him unknowingly growing pretty immune to his sporadic antics since he had been around gojo for the majority of his life. 

and that was a mistake, because having you here was like someone dunked his entire body with a bucket of chilling ice cold water to wake him the fuck up and make him see that gojo was, in fact— still insane.

but you seemed to be just fine… chatting back and forth with gojo about various topics as you both bounced off of several different things without even finishing the prior subject, megumi easing now that it looked like you weren’t worried sick over his dad loving you or not, him already knowing from the start he was going to.

and the food was inexplicably delicious as you ate, gojo revealing to you that he had personal private chefs come in to prepare the bundle of dishes for the both of you to eat for tonight’s dinner— him expressing that if he had cooked himself, his newly bought chandelier would’ve somehow came crashing down and he would’ve for some reason died along with it.

“and what do you do?” gojo beamed. “do you work?”

“i go to school!” you responded politely. “it’s about fifteen minutes from his stadium actually.”

he gasped. “megumi! you snatched an educated woman! has he taken the time to visit you on campus?”

“oh yes of course!” you nodded. “he picks me up for my morning lectures and takes me everyday, and then i go to his practices and games after my classes.”

“oh my god.” he slapped his hands over his eyes and hunched over. “a healthy beautiful balanced relationship oh what a blessing what a gift what a-”

gojo stopped, his head snapping back up and looking at you both from across the table.

“have you guys gone on a trip together yet?”

you both shook your heads confusedly.

“haahh?!” he shot megumi a glare. “why haven’t you taken her out on a vacation yet? is this how you show y/n your appreciation for her? with all of your mlb money? this— this can’t be—”

“n—no!” you stammered, placing a hand on megumi’s shoulder. “it’s okay! he does too much for me way too much i always feel appreciated that isn’t necessary—”

“—what her and i do is none of your business—”

“yes it is!” he cut megumi off. “the woman is a beauty do you really think nobody else wants her?! take her to a damn nba game see what happens—”

“do you think i’m not aware—”

“i got it!”

gojo shot up with his index finger pointing up dramatically, wiggling it with a shining smile.

“let’s all go on a trip and take a gander at nature!”

“huh?” megumi’s eyes narrowed. “a trip— nature—”

“yup!” he nodded. “i went to a place back in my youth in the middle of the woods that had the clearest, bluest, waterfall lake thing i had ever swam in. its perfect! us three can be one with the tides—”

“no.”

“…gumi we should.” you spoke sweetly and quietly, nudging his shoulder a little. “he wants to spend time with us… with you especially.”

he looked at you then with a strained expression— the idea of going on a trip with an erratic gojo sounding like something straight out of the pits of hell… but you wanted to. 

and megumi could never say no to you.

“just us three?” he mumbled, eyes drifting back his dad.

“i have an even better idea—”

gojo sped away from the dining table and over to the large marble counter top island that sat in the middle of the kitchen, him pulling out his laptop from a random drawer and opening it up. “yuji and his girlfriend should come too! it’ll be like a best friend’s trip! they can come over right now eat dinner all of you sleepover and then we leave tomorrow morning—”

you gasped excitedly, megumi eyeing your beaming hopeful smile at the mention of your best friend and yuji potentially coming, his heart and face softening at the way your pleading doe eyes looked at him.

“can we gumi?” you asked hopefully as gojo continued to babble on and click away on his laptop. “it—it’s okay if you don’t, really. i don’t ever want to do something you don’t want to do.”

“you wanna go?” he murmured, reaching up to pat over and caress the top of your head.

you looked at him shyly, gnawing at your bottom lip. “yeah… it sounds really fun and i love the idea of going somewhere with you like that… and— and my best friend would be there too with yuji! if they decide to come…”

megumi hummed, his hand coming down to poke your pink cheek with his index finger softly before leaning and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“s’okay.” he nodded. “we can go.”

“really?!” you gushed. “are you sure?”

“of course pretty baby.”

you squealed and cupped his face, bringing him down as you peppered kisses all over his mushed up cheeks as he laughed.

“thank you thank you thank you—”

“—book for two nights leave in the morning possibly italy next— okay done!”

gojo proudly stood back with his hands on his hips, smiling at his laptop before his eyes came back up to the both of you, you releasing megumi’s face.

“already?” you gushed.

“uh huh!” he skipped over to the table. “we leave tomorrow morning together, drive up the mountains, we get to the air bnb that night, sleep, wake up the next morning and hike up through the national park until we get to the waterfall, swim, go back to the air bnb when we’re done, and then we leave the following morning!”

you and gojo stood and cheered happily while jumping up and down, megumi calmly sitting back and huffing out a breath through his nose.

“do you even know if yuji and her best friend can go?” he spoke. “have you asked?”

you both stopped.

“no but i’ll ask right now!—” gojo dashed out of the dining room and down the hall, his fast footsteps echoing through the house as megumi rolled his eyes.

they said yes.

“y/nnnn!”

the minute your girl friend and yuji stepped through the front doors, you ran with open arms as you threw yourself on them and jumped up and down excitedly, megumi watching with amused eyes as the three of you chanted and bounced like little kids.

“trip! trip! trip! trip!”

“oh heeeyyy! good to see you both again.” gojo greeted, yuji and your girl friend immediately throwing themselves on him and jumping up and down again.

“thank you for this all inclusive trip you rich rich man!—” your best friend cried as yuji butt in. 

“—yes! thank you satoru you’re a gift you’re a saint—”

“you’re the hottest dilf i know!—”

“oh nonsense!” gojo waved them off cheekily, putting on a show of faux nonchalance. “i’m just coming for parental supervision you guys have earned this.”

you all spent the rest of the night together playing board games in the living room and watching movies in gojo’s home movie theatre, you and your best friend laughing from time to time at megumi’s constant bickering with his dad and yuji’s lovesick devotion to gojo— all of which that’s been there since megumi and yuji were in high school.

and you were having the best time you’ve ever had in your fucking life as you snuggled up with megumi on his lap while watching movies, surrounded by the people you loved most in the entire world while you all laughed and ate and basically did whatever the fuck you all wanted— your tummy’s hurting from scarfing down packs of gummy worms and leftover food from dinner.

“oh! oh! let’s watch human earthworm four now!” yuji jumped, pointing at the big screen.

“aw no! that one’s gross babe!” your girlfriend whined. “you’ve made me watch it like a million times alreadyyy.”

“but megumi and y/n haven’t seen it!”

“yes i have.” megumi cut in.

“y/n hasn’t seen it!”

“no! i’m trying to save her eyes from that wretched movie—” she craned her neck to look at you from her seat. “it’s good but it’s bad y/n.. i couldn’t sleep for three days straight after.”

you giggled and sleepily fixed the fluffy throw blanket that was over you and megumi, him finishing the job off for you and readjusting himself so you could get more comfortable on his lap, you enveloped entirely in his warm arms while gojo snored away somewhere in his seat.

“m’okay with anything!” you spoke, your boyfriend picking up on the tiny sleepy slur in your voice.

“okay so human earthworm four—”

“—no! please! i thought you loved me!—”

“i do! but human earthworm four!—”

“we should go to sleep baby.” megumi murmured in your ear as they went back and forth, and you shook your head.

���nuh uh.”

“c’mon.”

megumi started shifting, and you quickly tightened your arms around his neck and pulled him back.

“no i’m awake i’m awake.” you mumbled. “i wanna stay.”

“it’s already late though...” he gently reasoned. “i can feel you falling asleep.”

he smiled softly when you shook your little head again with fluttering sleepy lashes, him pressing a soft baby kiss to your nose before tugging an arm underneath your legs and the other over your back before standing, pulling you up and carrying you.

“we’re gonna go sleep.” megumi announced to the other two, and their heads turned.

“aw yuji look! he’s carrying her like a little bride—”

“aw niceee megumiii!—”

“god.” he muttered, readjusting his grip a little before turning and leaving the theatre, you already fast asleep as he carried you down various dark hallways before reaching the main grand staircase area, the beaming moonlight seeping through the giant windows as they illuminated the same familiar path he used to walk many times before since the age of six, but having an entirely different outlook on it now that you were there on the same path with him.

gojo had his personal assistant drive you and megumi sometime in the night beforehand to get your suitcases for the trip and pack your things, megumi now finding them neatly in the corner of his childhood bedroom as he entered, pleased to see that it was nearly left untouched since the day he moved out.

you stirred in his arms, your mind almost sensing that you were in his room as your eyes opened and slowly scanned their surroundings, a little gasp escaping your lips.

“is this your room gumi?” you spoke softly.

“mhm.”

“oh!” you wiggled and he gently set you down, you pulling the blanket over your shoulders as you looked around.

his room was huge, or at least bigger than the normal average room would normally be, and it was so… him. black bed sheets and black furniture, gray carpeting with a big gray desk chair neatly tucked in, a tall bookcase that held a combination of various philosophical books and manga all shuffled together, and a big bulletin board nailed to a wall that had push pinned photos scattered about.

you perked up, curious as you walked over to the board to get a closer look at each photograph, smiling when you spotted many of megumi and yuji playing for their baseball team in high school, pictures of the field or a glove holding a ball, and several others of megumi serious in his uniform next to a big grinned gojo. 

“gojo made it and hung it on the wall.” he spoke softly. “said my room lacked feeling or something like that.”

“i love it…” you murmured. “you look so cute in these gumi.”

you leaned and looked closer at one of the photos— it entailing megumi who looked to be maybe seven or eight, and a very young looking gojo with an arm swung over his little shoulders, the both of them throwing a peace sign.

you lifted your hand and gently ran your index finger over the glossy photograph, your eyes softening.

“is this when he took you in?”

megumi walked up and bent down a bit to get a better look.

“yeah. it had only been a year or two i think.”

you nodded in understanding, and as your hand fell to rest on your side, your gaze caught another photo—

a photo of you.

one that megumi took on one of your night outs except you were completely unaware to the fact that he did until this very moment— your eyes trained to the mirror visor in his car while applying lip gloss in the photo, you wearing his black leather jacket with a denim skirt on.

pointing, you looked behind you at megumi.

“it’s me.”

he nodded.

“did gojo pin this here?”

“no.” he shook his head. “i did.”

your eyes widened as your head turned back to the photo, your cheeks burning up. 

“i pinned it there when i came to visit him after we hung out that day.” he murmured. “s’my favorite.”

you swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest.

“how come it’s your favorite?”

his eyes stayed glued to the picture.

“because you look beautiful.” he answered. “and because you’re in my car. in my jacket. and with me.”

you felt your smile grow as you looked up at him, your entire body fuzzing and tingling over as he looked back down at you, both of your cheeks a vibrant pink under the dark moonlight.

“i love you.” he spoke softly.

your eyes softened, arms coming up to wrap around his neck and pull his forehead to yours as he reciprocated and held you, an emotional lump building in your throat at his genuine beautiful words— words that may be short and simple to others, but everything to you because it was megumi.

“i love you too, gumi.” you gently pecked his lips. “so much.”

and he smiled.

a full closed lipped one as he tightened his grip around your waist and lifted you up off the floor, carrying you over to his bed and delicately laying you down as he kissed you again and again, his cold hands slipping underneath your shirt to rest tenderly on the bare skin of your torso.

megumi pulled back to look at you, his eyes unexpectedly widening at the sight of you spread out underneath him like you were, with your gorgeous hair sprawled out and your pinky cheeked face looking up at him timidly while on his childhood bed, a sight he oddly didn’t expect himself to get hard as a fucking rock over.

“what baby?” you whispered.

he shook his head and pecked your lips before helping you sit up, walking over to his suitcase after and unzipping it open to reveal his tidy folded up clothing, him rummaging through it for a little before pulling out what you recognized to be one of his big gray sleep shirts.

“you wanna wear this to bed?” he asked you, holding it up.

you nodded happily, holding your hands up for him to throw and catching it once he did, you immediately stripping down with no fucks given to nothing but your black panties as you slipped the shirt on over your head and untucked your hair from underneath, loving that it smelled like him.

you both proceeded to do your little night routines that you did whenever you slept over at his place, and after you washed your face, brushed your teeth and applied a little moisturizer in his personal bathroom, you flicked off the light and jumped into bed with a waiting megumi, his arms immediately coming around over your waist and pulling your back to his bare chest as you both got comfortable.

but after a few minutes of silence—

megumi was still fucking hard.

and he was actually way worse than before, since now you were in his shirt and the only thing you had underneath was a pair of panties with no bra on, your juicy tits just inches from his grubby hands as they itched and burned to grope them in the rudest way possible.

and he wondered what it would be like to fuck you dumb on his childhood bed.

but he couldn’t. you were previously tired and sleepy and he wanted to respect that, concluding now that you were probably already drifting off as your breathing evened out over the soft murmur of the wind outside, your face heavenly against the moonlight through his gigantic window next to his bed. 

amidst the whirling of his horny perverted brain as he tried to calm his thoughts and let you sleep, he was already unknowingly grinding his hard dick against the fat of your ass, his shirt on you riding up as he did until he was fully rutting against your bare yummy cheek.

he tightened his grip around you and buried his nose into your hair, inhaling and squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to will himself to fucking stop and just let you sleep, but cursing under his breath when he felt you shift and lift your head a little.

“gumi?” you mumbled sleepily. “what are you doing..?”

“nothing.” he spoke into your hair. “go to sleep pretty baby.”

you sighed deeply and closed your eyes again, but it only took megumi an entire sixty seconds before he started grinding his dick on your ass again.

and you were wide awake at this point, the ache in between your legs severe as he mindlessly panted and grunted softly against your ear— delicious hot fucking noises that riled you up and had you grinding your ass back into him, feeling his pajama clad big solid dick against your skin.

he breathed in a sharp breath through his nose when he felt you do it, burying his face even further into your soft hair as he rutted on you harder this time, more forceful as he groaned and shoved a hand down your panties.

you gasped and looked down, his skilled fingers already working you so good and spreading your juices all over your clit and folds as your hips bucked up against his digits, his hips still grinding desperately on your ass as he pressed sloppy wet kisses over the side of your cheek.

“g-gumi—” you whined.

“hm?”

he slipped and pumped a finger inside you and you whimpered.

“we can’t— we can’t go past this okay i don’t want your dad or anyone else to hear us.”

“we can’t?”

megumi slipped his hands out of your panties as you turned around to look at him, your eyes widening at the way he stuck his tongue out and pressed his arousal covered middle and ring finger flat on it, licking and sucking on it lewdly with an open mouth as he looked at you with half lidded eyes.

“n—no.” you gulped, your pussy feeling pathetically empty as it craved and meowed for megumi’s cock even though you just told him a lying no, wanting nothing more than for him to throw you around and make you cry but horrified over the thought of everybody else in the house hearing.

“no?”

he shifted on top of you and in between your legs, your breath hitching as you watched him grab the hem of your shirt and slowly pull up until he hit the lower fat of your tits just below your nipples, his bottom lip pulled into his teeth as he tugged the rest of it up and groaned over the way your tits spilled out of his shirt, megumi already starting to grind his cock against your pussy again.

“holy fuck.” he mumbled, dazed eyes trained to the way your boobs bounced with every hump he made, his mouth and hands quickly coming down to squish your tits and drag his tongue over your perked up nipples, wasting no time at all in slobbering and sucking all over them as you moaned and whimpered at the feeling of his wet hot tongue all over your tits, your fingers gripping the bedsheets beneath you.

he released your nipple with a pop and leaned back, his fingers hooking underneath the straps of your panties and pulling them down before he tossed them somewhere in his room— followed by his pajamas and boxers.

“but i miss you baby..” he mumbled, rubbing the length of his cock between your wet warm folds. “miss you and the way your pussy sucks up my dick…”

you whined, your hips jerking with each rub that his tip made against your clit as it slipped up and down, your shaky fingers suddenly encircling around his cock and pumping it for him, megumi moaning as you did and your lashes fluttering at the sounds of his pre cum covered dick squelching against each yank of your wrist.

“i’ll go slow hm?…” he fucked himself into your hand, breathless. “and we’ll just… we’ll just be quiet…”

you bit your bottom lip, squeaking at the way his tip would nudge up against your little hole as he moved. 

“s—slow okay?” you whispered and guided his cock down to your entrance, megumi immediately lining himself up and pushing his big dick in slowly as you squirmed underneath him. “go— go slow i don’t want them to hear—”

“i’ll go slow pretty baby don’t worry.” he murmured, caressing his thumbs over your tummy as he pumped himself inside little by little, his body shivering in delight over the way you screwed your eyes shut and twitched as you tried to take all of him, licking your lips once he was fully in as he gently started pumping his dick in your puffy cunt.

but megumi was a fucking liar.

because it only took a total of five minutes for megumi to start pounding into your little pussy like a rabid beast, his hands clutching the beds headboard in front of him as his mattress squeaked and hit against the wall violently, you choking and gasping at every drilling slam of his hips.

“hah!— gumi!” you hiccuped. “s—slow downnn pleeaasee they’re gonna wake up!—”

“who fucking cares.” he grunted, one of his hands letting go of the headboard and grabbing a fistful of your tits as his eyes screwed shut in pure nasty ecstasy, your tight tight pussy drinking and slurping him up as he slammed against you, your body bouncing with every thrust.

“but—but you saaiidd!—”

you squealed as he fucked you harder and leaned down to bite your red hot cheek.

“how about you take what i give you yeah?”

you moaned pornographically loud, the way he was being extra mean doing a number on you as he nastily licked a long soothing stripe over where he bit you on your cheek, his lips coming down to hover directly over your ear as he placed a hand over your mouth, muffling your whines.

“shhh—” pant! “baby not so loud—”

“mmm!”

you breathed heavily through your nose as he rammed you, him hating the way he couldn’t openly hear your sweet moans anymore as he opted to moving his hand away and turning your face with his fingers, lips to his ear.

“just moan in my ear—” he choked. “moan please.”

“goddddd gumi you always fuck me so good—”

“yeah?” pat pat pat— “you like it when i fuck you like this pretty baby?”

hic! “uh huh!”

“shit—” he shoved his face into the side of your hair and hovered his lips over your ear. “and only me right? not gonna let any other low life fucking loser in your life anywhere near you when you have me right?”

“n—never!” you hiccuped. “only you i don’t ever want any— hah!— anyone else again—”

you practically screamed as you unexpectedly came all over his dick, your gushy walls spazzing around it as your pussy squelched out warm liquid, your squirt covering megumi’s lower tummy and sheets.

“attaaa girllll.” he groaned, quickly coming up and letting go of the headboard as he gripped your bruised waist with his hands, him throwing his head back and heaving as he fucked you sensitive on his cock with his balls begging for release that megumi was more than happy to give— you gasping at the way he quickly slipped his dick out from inside you and jerked himself off violently for literally a second before he came all over your tummy and pussy with a loud moan, coating all of you in his gooey release.

“fuuucckk.” he breathed out, his body shaking as he slowly pumped and milked out the last few drops of his cum with a strong grip on your thigh, you completely and utterly fucked out and dazed at the way he used you just the way you liked it, him slowly running his softening dick over your cum covered pussy and in between your folds as you twitched at the sensitivity— spreading it around as you both tried to catch your breaths.

“you okay?” his hands came up and gently brushed some of your hair away from your face, you nodding ditzy and red cheeked as he tucked a few strands behind your ears and kissed your forehead lovingly.

“stay here.” he murmured as he moved and got off the bed, your eyes closing but opening again after a minute once you felt him in between your thighs with his fucking phone out pointing at you.

“gumiii!” you whined and laughed. “why are you taking a picture?”

he shrugged, but peered up at you with a little knowing smile on his face. “to pin on the board.”

your eyes blew open in terror as you watched the flash go off and him place his phone back on his nightstand after, you frantically shaking your head.

“you can’t! baby your dad is gonna see it you can’t!—”

he cutely laughed as he got up again and went inside his bathroom, coming back in with a little hand towel before opening your legs gently and cleaning you up, tossing it across the room in his hamper then before laying down next to you and pulling your body to his, the both of you entangling with each other as megumi pulled the covers over.

“i’ll keep it in my wallet then.”

“no! gumi!—”

the following morning, all of you got up bright and early to shower, get ready, and finalize your packing as you hauled various suitcases down the grand staircase (yuji literally throwing his down and crying when it popped open halfway with his clothes spilling out) and all eventually climbed inside a big fat luxury shiny van that gojo personally rented for the trip.

“wow satoru!” your best friend gushed. “even the seats are so lush! and they have screens with movies look yuji look!”

“oh my god i see human earthworm four—”

“no!”

gojo smiled big through the rear view mirror at you all as he made various erratic dangerous turns and lane changes while out on the road, megumi gripping you and his seat for dear life whenever he sharply swerved and cut somebody off with their horn blaring.

“gojo you are going to kill us—”

“oh hush megumi! i was about to miss the exit i had to do what daddy had to do—”

“don’t ever call yourself that ever again—”

“daddy gojo! daddy gojo! daddy gojo!”

your best friend and yuji bounced around and chanted from the back in their seats, megumi groaning and stuffing his face into your neck as you laughed and ruffled up his soft black hair, giving him a comforting kiss to the top of his head.

the four hour drive there was filled with a mix of yuji and gojo yelling and excited about every single wildlife animal they saw run in front of the van, you and your best friend chattering about all the pictures you were gonna take and how they had to be candid or else you were both drowning yourselves in the lake, and megumi still bickering with his dad about his driving and his lack of awareness for the road.

“oh! gumi gumi!” you shoved your hand inside your bag of gummy worms and pulled one out. “let’s do the thing! the lady and the tramp thing it’ll be cuteee!”

“the what?” he watched you as you plopped one end of the gummy worm in your mouth and puckered up the other side, ushering him to take it as he huffed an amused breath through his nose and leaned forward, biting the other end before you both moved closer along the sugary worm until your lips connected together.

a click of a camera made you both quickly spring apart, a mischevious looking yuji and your best friend with their phones out snickering from above the backrest of your seat.

“up to nasty activities again we see?” yuji wiggled his eyebrows.

“again?!” you gawked. “what— what do you mean— when—”

“megguuumiii…” your best friend dragged. “i knew you were freaky but i didn’t know you were this freaky…”

he froze, eyes wide.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about!” you quickly sputtered. “absolutely no idea— nuh uh gumi do you know?”

“nope.”

“yeah me neither—”

“you sure?” your girl friend quirked a brow. “pretty sure it sounded something like ‘god gumi you always fuck me so good—‘”

yuji cut in. “—‘only me right? not gonna let any other loser anywhere—‘”

you both jumped over the backrests and lunged at the both of them, all of you screaming and yelling as you quickly covered over your best friends mouth and megumi wrestled with yuji to get the two of them to shut the fuck up, gojo craning and leaning over to get a look from the drivers seat at what was going on.

“if you love me you’ll stop!” you screamed. “and you’ll let me brainwash you and condition you into forgetting everything you heard last night—”

“but it’s funny!—”

“children! you’re shaking the van what’s going on back there?” gojo called from the front.

“it’s shaking because you’re going ninety miles per hour and swerving.” megumi spat over his shoulder as he had yuji in an arm lock. 

“please! spare me!” yuji gasped. “we play baseball together man! we won the world series like seven months ago please let me bask in the glory a little while longer—”

megumi rolled his eyes and let him go, silently walking over and wrapping his arms around your waist before pulling you off of your best friend as you kicked and yelled, your girl friend cackling and pointing at you as your boyfriend dragged you back to your previous seats.

you huffed and crossed your arms as he set you down, megumi biting hard on his tongue to refrain himself from laughing.

“i’m putting you on a sex ban.” you muttered.

he let a laugh slip out as he leaned over to look at your face, you looking to the side defiantly.

“a sex ban?” he repeated. “for what?”

“for being bad.”

he reached over and pinched your cheek softly. “and what did i do?”

“you bewitched me last night with your big dick and handsome face and told me we would be quiet and slow and you lied to me.”

megumi snickered as he pulled you over to his chest by your shoulders in a hug, squishing his cheek up against yours.

“m’sorry.” he mumbled. “i’ll make it up to you.”

you grunted in response and he chuckled.

“i’ll let you steal the greece magnet from the cafe.”

you shot up like a light with wide eyes and the biggest smile he had ever seen over something so simple as a magnet— and his heart softened.

“really? really?! you mean it?!”

he looked at you with a tiny smile and nodded.

“suddenly the sex ban’s been lifted there was never such a thing i don’t even remember when i said that i don’t know what you’re talking about—”

at some point during the trip you all knocked out dead asleep for a couple of hours, gojo chugging literally five energy drinks in one sitting to keep himself awake (even though you all offered to drive, him refusing) until you finally arrived at the cabin air bnb in the middle of the night— gojo taking advantage and snapping pictures of all of your sleeping faces and cooing before gently waking you up.

gojo truly went over the top and rented the biggest fucking cabin any of you had ever seen, a gorgeous one that sat on top of a hill and overlooked the stunning views of the national park and over other dimly lit cabins below, the subject of light pollution completely nonexistent as the constellations twinkled with pride.

the men carried in the suitcases while you and your best friend frantically tried to capture the stars through your the cameras on your phones, whining when it just didn’t look the same as in person and you slapping a hand over your forehead once you realized you forgot your digital camera at home like always.

“what do we think my kids?!” gojo exclaimed with his arms out as he spun around in the main living room. “exquisite? tranquil? yummy?”

“yummy!” you all exclaimed and jumped on gojo once you came in the house, megumi staring with his arms crossed as the three of you squeezed and rubbed your cheeks over his dad comically.

“and what is satoru gojo for? hmmm? to live lavish!”

“or almost run us off the cliff.” megumi muttered, grabbing yours and his suitcase before walking up the stairs to claim a room.

the rest of you eventually went up to your respective rooms, exhausted from being in the van for freaking four hours and needing to rest up for the hike tomorrow morning, eager to see and swim in the big glorious lake gojo couldn’t stop talking about since the moment he booked the trip.

“now don’t be shy tonight y/n!” your best friend called from down the hall just as you were about to go inside your room to join megumi. “if you guys want to get freaky again don’t mind us! especially you megumi!”

you quickly ran inside your room and grabbed a pillow, poking your head out and chucking it at her and laughing when you actually managed to land it on her face, her running down the hall to throw it back but you slamming the door and locking it in her face just in time.

“what is happening.” megumi mumbled, stirring around in the bed to face you, his sleepy eyes drooping.

“nothing baby.” you smiled softly, the wood creaking beneath your feet as you walked over to his outstretched arm and climbed into bed with him, the both of you snuggling up under the covers and sharing sweet sleepy kisses with your body heats combating the cold room— a sliver of moonlight peeking through the wide windows on the other end as you the two of you fell fast asleep with no sign of struggle.

the next morning, you all changed into your hiking attire and packed your bathing suits, gojo bouncing off the walls and excited that he was finally going to revisit the place he’d been wanting to go to since the last time he went— the rest of you eagerly gushing and giddy over the thought of the grand waterfall and lake and big rocks that yuji wanted to cannonball off of.

gojo informed you all that the hike should only take about thirty minutes with no setbacks, and once you were outside and following the set trail along the parameters of the national park, it had only been about fifteen minutes in until someone started complaining (gojo).

the sun was blazing but nothing that wasn’t unmanageable— the cool breeze and shade from the giant sequoia trees making up for the slightly stinging heat as you walked hand in hand with megumi, tight interlaced fingers as you both enjoyed the quiet air and the soft occasional chirping of birds, jumping over various rocks and logs along your journey as you happily spoke to megumi about anything that came to your little mind, him contently listening and nodding and loving everything you had to say to him, always.

“oh! look gumi!” you whispered, pointing to a tiny deer from across the pond to your left. “it’s a baby!”

“where?” he crouched down to your level to try and match his line of sight with yours, the corners of his lips softly turning upwards once he spotted the deer sniffing a pile of grass and taking little nibbles out of it.

“s’cute.” he murmured. “where’s the mom though? baby deers usually aren’t seperated from their—”

“heeeelppp! heeelppp meeeee!”

you all jumped and spun around to be met with a hunched over gojo in a fit of tears, his body trembling as you saw what you now realized to be the mother of the baby deer, chewing mindlessly on the hem of gojo’s shirt.

“i’m dying! i’m dying! this is it!—”

“calm down.” megumi muttered, walking over to him and pulling you along halfway before separating his hand from yours and stepping closer.

“stop screaming and don’t move. it’ll probably move on if you stop freaking out.”

“megumi do you study deers for a living?” yuji spoke up.

megumi gave him a deadpanned look. 

“we are in the mlb.”

“no i know!” he shrugged. “but maybe on your downtime?”

“he’s freaky with y/n on his downtime—”

“shuuushh!” you gasped and slapped a hand over your best friends mouth, your wide frantic eyes snapping to see if gojo heard but relief washing over you when you noticed he was still screaming and crying, oblivious.

“i’m sorry i’m sorry!” she muffled under your hand, laughing once you pulled away. “i’ll stop i’m sorry babe. i love you.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and pulled her in for a hug, kissing her cheek with an exaggerated ‘mwah’ like you’ve done ever since you both were in middle school, her reciprocating before you turned your attention back to a flailing gojo.

“gojo stop moving—”

“i can’t megumi i can’t! it’s gonna eat me up whole and alive and without mercy—”

“how long ago was it that you came here?” you asked sweetly, walking up to stand next to megumi.

“uh— i think i was maybe twenty… or twenty seven!.. or twenty three…”

“is it just like you remember?” you smiled. “i mean— so far? the hike?”

“oh yeah even better!” he beamed. “there’s actually a clear trail now for hikers.”

“yeah?”

“yeah! back then it was barely marked and rough everyone had to raw dog it—”

without him noticing, the deer slowly released his now soggy chewed up shirt and pranced away, no longer threatened by his jagged movements as gojo stopped them the minute you spoke to him.

“—but i had a map and snacks and the park rangers on speed dial so i didn’t really care—”

“gojo.”

megumi pointed and he stopped, his dad turning around to see the deer somewhere far off across the pond with its baby.

“y/n you saved me!” gojo jumped up and wrapped his arms around you, you giggling as he swung you around roughly before setting you back down with a grin on his face. 

“thanks sweetheart.”

you gave him a cheeky thumbs up, and as the group continued along the trail, megumi reached over and gently ruffled your hair with a little smile of gratitude on his face, pressing a kiss to your forehead after.

“satoru what were you even doing to the deer for it to do that?“

“i wanted to pet it—”

the rest of the trail was relatively easy, no more setbacks as you all basically kept gojo on a leash deeming his ‘wandering off’ rights revoked, the only annoying thing being the occasional bites from mosquitos and random bugs with you and your best friend running for your lives when the bigger ones buzzed past you, the end of your hike drawing near as the soft crashing waves of the waterfall were now in earshot.

“you okay gumi?” you asked sweetly, pushing some of his spiky hair back from his forehead and wiping the sides of his slightly red face down a little with your hand towel, throwing it over your shoulder after and passing him your water flask. “drink drink, you look a little red.”

“i’m fine.” he took the flask and kissed your head, chugging back some ice cold water as you walked. “just hot.”

“fuck i know.” you huffed, taking the flask back once he was done and drinking a bit yourself before shoving it back into your backpack. “we’re almost there though! and the minute we get there we should jump off that big rock your dad mentioned! like— like you and me i’m not doing it by myself but if you do it with me then i’ll be okay maybe—”

you paused and looked at him sheepishly. “can you do it with me?”

he smiled softly and nodded, swinging an arm over your shoulder and caressing the skin of your upper arm. “i can baby.”

you cheered and skipped on excitedly, pulling megumi forward by the hand until you were caught up with the rest of the group.

as you talked on with yuji ahead about the next coming baseball events for their team, your best friend leaned closer to megumi with a hushed tone.

“have you seen the bikini y/n brought?” she smirked. “ehh?”

he looked at her blankly. “not clearly.”

“i have.” she wiggled her eyebrows. “it’s a skimpy little number… i forced her to bring it. and it’s black your faveee.”

he huffed out a breath, appearing unbothered but his mind… curious.

…very.

“the bottoms are tied by the sides— easy access…” she wiggled her eyebrows. “and the top squishes her boobs up all nice and snug they look like pillows—”

megumi stared straight down with burning pink cheeks and a tight jaw, shoving her away by the shoulder as she cackled.

“try to keep your boner down once you see it megumi! i could barely even keep mine down sheesh—”

“i liked you better when you weren’t talking.”

“and you should thank me by buying me a hot dog at your next game they’re fucking expensive-”

“guys it’s here!”

gojo bounced up and down with his arms out, his back to you all as the four of you gasped at the size of the waterfall, incredibly fucking massive and beautiful as the crashing sounds of it meeting the lake below overpowered anything else, the water literally shimmering and gleaming and crystal clear blue against the summery sun as you all walked down, quickly claiming a spot and setting down your bags.

it was genuinely perfect, and you were so amazed that something like this existed without you even knowing about it until two days ago— your eyes excitedly scanning your surroundings as you watched the people further up ahead splash and swim around and jump from the rocks.

as everybody else peeled off their hiking attire with their bathing suits underneath, megumi quietly eyed you from the side in his swim trunks as he folded up his clothes, shamefully waiting for you to reveal the skimpy bikini your best friend was blabbering on about.

“y/n hurryyyy!” your girl friend whined. “i wanna run in with you!”

“coming coming!” 

you quickly grabbed the hem of your top and pulled it over your head, megumi sucking in a sharp breath and coughing at the way your tits jiggled out and the way your hips looked with the little tied bows on the side and the way your stunning hair fell over your shoulders and the way your thighs—

“oh! what’s wrong megumi?” your best friend gasped dramatically. “do you need some water? here, y/n your flask is over there—”

you bent down to grab it, your ass completely in his view as he roughly covered his mouth with strained eyebrows, pinky cheeks, and a pathetically solid dick under his swim shorts as you walked over and sweetly handed him the flask.

“here gumi!” you chirped, faltering over his stiff body and covered mouth, tilting your head. “what’s wrong? are you okay?”

your best friend snickered and pointed at him from behind you as he glared, his eyes softening once they landed back on yours.

“m’okay baby.” 

he took the the flask from you and sipped a little before screwing the cap back on and setting it down next to his bag, you nodding and turning to walk over to your best friend, but stopping when megumi’s hand caught yours.

“wait.” he tugged your hand a little, his voice gentle. “come here.”

you listened and walked closer to him, your pretty doe eyes looking up at him curiously as he softly cupped your cheeks and leaned down, pressing his lips delicately to yours for a moment before pulling away.

“you look cute.�� he mumbled, cheeks pink. “i like your bathing suit.”

you gave him a huge smile, your face gleaming as you leaned up on your tippy toes and pecked his nose. “thank you gumi! i was nervous about it but i got your favorite color!”

you stepped back and rotated side to side as your tied bows shifted, wanting to innocently show him the bikini but only accidentally riling him up even further— the thought of submerging his entire body in the lake now to hide his boner an appetizing thought to him.

“y/n! you coming?” your best friend called, and you quickly nodded and ran over to her, taking her extended hand in yours and interlocking your fingers tightly.

“okay ready?!” she gushed.

“ready!”

“one…” the two of you counted.

“two…”

“threeee!”

you both squealed and sprinted down, the wind whipping through your hair as you jumped in the cool lake together and laughed at the way droplets of water splashed across your faces, the surface reaching up just past your knees once you were a good distance from your resting spot.

“guys come in!” you yelled. “it feels really nice!”

you looked at megumi and waved him over, him walking down before making his way through the lake as yuji and gojo raced in.

“onward my second son!” gojo called, yuji giving him a piggy back ride as they splashed through the water but comically tripping and dunking themselves in once they reached you.

“aw man! my foot slipped on a rock…” yuji mumbled as he shook water from his hair, your best friend laughing and kissing his cheek.

“it’s okay bud, at least you carried satoru all the way here with no issue!”

gojo gasped. “what are you trying to say?”

she laughed and shook her head. “i’m joking! i’m joking— maybe—”

you skipped over through the water to catch up with an arriving megumi then, his arm coming to rest around your waist as you walked back up to the group together.

soon you all made it down to the deeper end by the waterfall and hung out, you jumping on megumi’s back at one point for a photo your best friend offered to take— your arms wrapped around his neck with your cheek mushed up against his as a small smile played at his lips, gojo grinning softly to himself at the sight knowing megumi never really smiled for pictures with anyone but you… something that wasn’t very hard to tell as he stared.

megumi loved you. genuinely. 

and he lived life so much differently now that he was with you.

yuji later dragged your best friend and megumi to the other side where he heard other people say fish were swimming in, eagerly wanting to catch one and take it home for himself as a souvenir and begging the other two for help, you and gojo laughing from a distance whenever they were close to grabbing one but screaming when they accidentally would let it go.

“you having fun?” gojo asked you after a minute, and your nervous eyes snapped up to his striking blue ones.

“oh yes! so much!” you smiled kindly. “thank you for this satoru… seriously. you didn’t have to do all of this but you did, and i can’t thank you enough.”

he shook his head, a content expression on his face as he continued to look at the three ahead.

“no need! you’re all my kids. it’s what a dad does, isn’t it? take you guys out?”

you giggled softly and nodded, but after a bit, gojo spoke up again.

“sometimes…” he began. “i feel like i may lack what megumi needs.”

your eyebrows furrowed. “what do you mean?”

he looked on ahead.

“ever since megumi was young, i always worried that he would be alone for the rest of his life and not learn to appreciate the things he already had.”

gojo pursed his lips. “he’s always been a quiet kid… didn’t like to talk to anyone or listen to anyone and was just— living. emptily living.”

emptily?

“he didn’t go out. he didn’t do what a regular teen does at his age. he didn’t believe anything had value to it and just lived. he never had anyone either until yuji… but even then the look on his face never changed, and i fear baseball only scraped the surface.”

“for how long?” you murmured.

“for as long as i’ve known him.” he answered.

“i think—” he shook his head. “i know megumi thinks that he isn’t worth anything. he thinks he deserves nothing and just blocks everybody and everything out… and i… i worry.”

you stayed quiet and listened.

“he’s different. he’s reserved and refuses to accept any forms of love because he thinks it’s wasteful when he’s the one that’s receiving it… and i just want you to know that even though he’s— he’s mean sometimes and says grumpy things he doesn’t mean it. he really loves you and i don’t want you to be scared off—”

“but he isn’t any of those things to me.” you spoke softly. “at all. i’ve never once thought megumi to be any of those things.”

gojo’s gaze flickered to yours.

“i’ve never met anyone as genuinely kind and selfless and loving as he is. i feel like people always get the wrong impression of him and it just— pisses me off because he doesn’t even do anything and yet they’re quick to judge just because he’s different… and i hate that.”

you played a little with your fingers. “megumi always silently does things for people when they don’t deserve it, and they never notice it either so he doesn’t even get something as simple as a thank you because they’re too focused on how different he is.”

gojo’s eyes softened as he placed a friendly arm over your shoulder, shaking you a little. 

“you see what i see, then.” he spoke.

you smiled sadly, your eyes trained to megumi as you watched him sharply cup his hands underwater and catch a fish, throwing it inside yuji’s makeshift cup tank silently as yuji and your best friend proceeded to jump and cheer and peer inside to look at it.

“but i love him because he’s different.” you express. “and i worry one day he’ll get tired of me and tired of the things that i say and leave… but i would never blame him for that. i would never regret getting to love someone like him.”

gojo smiled down at you, and he felt relief again. relief in knowing that megumi was in good hands, in your good hands, and that he didn’t need to worry so much about him anymore, that his years of begging and wishing on his knees for anyone and anything that would listen to him and help save his son, help him learn to love and cherish, to save him from a life of nothing— 

all of those years and he was finally heard.

“oh he would never.” he spoke softly. “because ever since he met you he’s been different. he smiles more. he’s calmer… more lenient. he’s awake.”

and he’s learned to love, most of all.

“he’s never told me this…” you trailed off sadly.

“i wouldn’t either.” he responded. “maybe it’s something he wants to forget.”

he huffed after a minute. “and also megumi never smiles when i take pictures with him but he smiles with youuu!” he whined. “no fair.”

you giggled then, grinning at him apologetically as you did.

and gojo felt so lucky that his son managed to land a soul as genuine and pure and sweet as yours was… that he managed to land someone who loved him for the same reason many others didn’t.

“you don’t lack what he needs satoru...” you murmured. “you’ve always had it exactly. without you, he wouldn’t be living the life he has now surrounded by the people that love him… he wouldn’t have his career either— and he knows that.” you nudged his shoulder gently with yours. “he loves you… and i hope you know that too.”

gojo stared at you blankly for a minute before his eyes gradually filled with fat tears, his lips wobbling.

“y/nnnnn!” he wailed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and rubbing his cheek side to side on top of your head. “you sweet little angel! you always know just what to say! oh i’ve never felt so moved! i’m paying for your college tuition okay?!”

“huh?! no! you can’t pay it please no!—”

“i have to! i have to! you’re my future daughter in law—”

“you’re gonna make me cryyyy!—”

megumi turned around curiously at the familiar sound of his dad’s crying, his shoulders relaxing once he saw it was just you and him jumping around and wailing and hugging over god knows what, him smiling softly to himself.

“told you dummy.” he muttered under his breath. “he loves you.”

“who loves who?!” your best friend shot up. “yuji loves me? yeah no shit—”

“heyyy!” yuji whined. “are you saying you’re used to my love? that it’s boring?”

“no! i never said that! you’re just as dramatic as satoru—”

megumi ignored them and started making his way back over to you, and upon you and gojo realizing, he put you down with a smile and you proceeded to walk across the water— your heart secretly heavy over everything gojo had told you.

if you had known, you would’ve worked ten times harder for megumi to know how much he was loved and appreciated by everything in his life— the thought of him thinking such cruel things of himself making it hard for you to keep your crybaby tears down as he got closer. 

megumi didn’t deserve the life he grew up with— the one that was outside of satoru’s control.

the one filled with loneliness and judgement and just— nothing. he didn’t deserve to be looked upon as indifferent and actually label himself as so without mercy and without any means of saving himself.

“i caught a fish—”

you flung your arms around his neck and pulled him down tight as he let out a huff of surprise, your eyes screwed shut as you tried your absolute best to keep the tears at bay as you hugged him with everything that you had.

“i love you gumi…”

he slowly snaked his arms around your waist and hugged you back.

“i love you t—”

“no but i love you.” you pulled back to look at him, his eyebrows furrowing at your sad expression. “a lot. more than anything. please tell me you know that.”

his concerned eyes darted around your face momentarily before slowly nodding.

“i— i do. i feel the same way—” he shook his head. “are you okay?”

you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck and nodded, the ebb and flow of the water swaying the both of you gently as you embraced each other.

megumi didn’t push further after that, opting to asking you about it after as you pulled him to the big giant rock off to the side of the waterfall where many others had jumped off of previously throughout the day, you excitedly bouncing on your toes once you both reached the top— no sign of prior sadness from you that only confused him.

“oooo i’m scared— fuck i’m scared!” you shivered in place and megumi squeezed your hand.

“you’ve been talking about this all day.” he murmured, gently nudging your shoulder with his. “you can’t back out now.”

“i’m not!” you shook your head frantically. “i’m not… right? or am i… oh god i think i am—”

“we’re jumping.”

“no!” you cried. “i can’t do it i can’t do it—”

“yes you can.”

“no i can’t! i’m a big fat puss it took me a year to talk to you do you think i can do something like this?!” you threw your unoccupied hand out in emphasis. “fuck i didn’t even talk to you, you talked to me!—”

he leaned down to look at you at eye level. 

“baby, if you don’t do this now you’re gonna be crying the entire way home in regret. do you wanna do that?”

“no…” you mumbled.

“do you wanna regret this?”

“no…”

“then jump with me.”

“give me a kiss and then i’ll do it.”

megumi laughed cutely and pecked your lips.

“you ready now?”

“apparently.”

without warning, megumi booked it across the rock as you ran with him, his baseball legs nearly sending you fucking flying as you both jumped over the cliff and down below, a huge splash coming up as your submerged bodies naturally rose up to the surface, you cheering happily and peppering your boyfriend with kisses once it was over.

and when the sun eventually began to set, you all reluctantly left the lake with whines and borderline sobs as you dried up and shimmied on clean clothes before packing your bags up, beginning the walk back down the trail to the cabin shortly after.

it was a lot easier on the way down now that the sun wasn’t scorching and burning over you all— each of you refreshed and content from a days worth of swimming and fish catching as the cool night air softly brushed against your skin, the cabin soon coming into view a lot faster than you all anticipated.

and after arriving and showering and everyone getting comfy in their pajamas, you all ate dinner together in the grand living room where you finally watched human earthworm four under yuji’s begging request, your best friend succumbing up to it since he had been rejected so many times before already, but regretting it almost the second the movie started playing.

“i think i’m gonna be sick.” your best friend mumbled, a hand over her mouth.

“why? what’s happening?” you whispered to megumi as you covered your eyes in pure fucking fear, him softly chuckling to himself.

“i’ll spare you.”

“okay great thank you baby—”

“it’s not even that gory!” yuji exclaimed. “cmon babeee now i feel bad.”

“no don’t.” she muttered beneath her hand. “it’s fine. i’m trying.”

“aw when your girlfriend loves youu.” yuji smiled cheekily, kissing her cheek as she laughed and pushed him away.

“i think i remember you showing me this movie a couple of years ago yuji…” gojo pondered, scarfing down a bag of potato chips. “it was good but i prefer something more like pride and prejudice—”

BANG!

you all froze.

silence.

“what the fuck was that?” you sat up, the rest of you stiff in alarm.

“i don’t know…” yuji trailed off. “maybe the wind? outside?”

“maybe..” gojo mumbled with his mouthful. “i think it’s fine!”

you all eventually shrugged and continued watching the movie.

“oh no this is the part—” your girl friend quickly slapped a hand over her eyes. “i can’t watch i can’t watch i can’t watch!—”

“well then i can’t either!” you anxiously covered your eyes again as megumi lazily pulled you closer to his chest, him sleepily laying his cheek on top of your head.

“you guys can’t hang!—”

BAANGGG!!

“oh fuck no!—” your best friend screamed and reached for the remote, shutting off the tv. “something’s outside.”

“nuh uh.” gojo frantically shook his head with wide blue eyes. “some-one is outside… that bang was way too loud for it to be an animal.”

you shot up in fear, megumi slowly following suit and sitting up with pinched eyebrows— now wide awake from all of the noise.

“someone has to go check!” your best friend harshly whispered. “satoru go check!”

“no way!” he cried. “please! no! i can’t go out there!—”

“i thought you said you were our ‘parental supervision?’” she spat. “go do parental supervision activities and go outside!—”

“but i’m too handsome to go outside!—”

“well someone needs to!—”

another crashing bang came from outside, way louder than the previous times as you all screamed in terror and ran to each other, huddling close together on the floor as you silently anticipated for the next sound.

“oh my god someone’s actually outside.” you whispered. “what if they’re trying to break in?”

“oh don’t say that sweetheart i brought my rose crystals with me!” gojo whined, megumi shooting him an annoyed look.

“i could— i could go check?” yuji offered, his voice slightly shaking as he propped himself up to stand.

“no!” your best friend grabbed him. “no yuji if you go outside you’ll never come back you can’t!”

“never come back?” he gulped, immediately plopping himself back down. “i wanna come back...”

“then stay inside—”

BAAANG!!

the power went out as you all erupted in a fit of horrified screams in the pitch black living room, megumi instantly clasping a hand over your wrist to feel you there and tugging you gently.

“don’t separate from me.” you heard him mumble.

“what the fuck do we do?!”

“someone is trying to rob us someone is trying to rob—”

“quick! the four of you! stand in front of me!” gojo gasped. “this is our last night on earth and i’ll be damned if i don’t live to see you all be wed!”

he stood and ran. “quick quick! we don’t have time! i’ll be the officiant hurry and line up—”

your girl friend shook her head incredulously. “satoru you cannot be serious right now—”

“oh i’m dead serious.” he nodded frantically. “we are gathered here today—”

BAANNGG!!

“we’re done! we’re done! we’re done!—”

“fuck this.” megumi mumbled, standing and pulling you up with him before wrapping his arms around your legs and throwing you over his shoulder, readjusting his grip before quickly walking out of the living room and down the hall to the bathroom, using the faint glow of the moonlight to help light his way.

and once he found it, he carefully set you down on the cold tile floor by the tub and stepped back.

“i’m gonna go check outside.” he reached for the door knob. “stay here okay.”

“no!” you gasped, crawling over and grabbing his wrist. “no gumi please don’t go outside i’ll go you stay here—”

“no way.” he pushed. “just stay here i’ll be right back—”

“if you go outside you’ll die!” you cried dramatically. “and then your ghost has to watch me move on by the pressures of society even though i don’t want to move on but i apparently have to—” you tugged him closer, eyes wide. “do you want to see me with another man?!”

“baby—”

“do you?!”

“no the fuck i don’t—”

“then stay here and—”

“AAAAHHHHHH!”

you both looked at each other blankly for a couple of seconds before megumi quickly shut the door and locked it, crawling his way over to you through the dark bathroom then and reaching out to feel where you were at— sitting next to you once he found you.

your hands found each others and you interlaced your fingers, you scared for your fucking life and worried over what was going on out there with the rest of them, your head coming down to rest on his shoulder as his came to rest on your head.

after a few silent moments, you spoke up.

“wanna know something?”

he lifted his head to look down at you.

“what baby.”

“when you drew my initials in the dirt at the world series… i saw my life flash before my eyes.”

megumi chuckled as he reached up to gently brush some of your hair away from your eyes. 

“saw your life flash before your eyes?” he murmured. “in a good way or a bad way.”

“in a good way.” you smiled. 

he hummed. 

“and what did you see?”

“can’t tell you or it won’t come true.” you giggled. “i wished for it on 11:11 it’s legally binding.”

he chuckled and squeezed your hand.

“…was i in it?”

you nodded. “through the entire thing.”

his eyes softened.

your mind was suddenly drawn to the conversation you had with gojo at the lake, and you frowned.

“gumi…” 

“hm?”

you lifted your head and shifted your body slightly to try and look at him, the darkness of the bathroom not really helping but you satisfied with the slight outlines you could see of his face.

“are you happy?”

his brows furrowed, slightly taken aback. 

“yes… why?”

“have you always been happy?” you pushed further. “like— your whole life. the happy you are now, have you always been?”

he stopped.

megumi’s never lied to you, and he never intended to do so, but he juggled the possibility of maybe this being one of those times where a little white lie was deemed kind of necessary.

“uh— yeah.” he nodded.

you pursed your lips. 

after a period of silence and you playing with his long fingers, you spoke up again.

“gumi i want you to know that you deserve everything you’ve ever gotten in your life.”

his head snapped up.

“and i don’t ever want you to feel like you don’t. you’ve worked hard and had to deal with too much to think that you don’t deserve any of what you get in return.”

why were you telling him this?

“so when you tell me that you’ve always been happy, i hope that’s the truth.”

he bit the inside of his cheek in regret, hating that he lied already, and fearful of your reaction to the factuality of his life.

“i uh—” he struggled. “sometimes i think i don’t deserve it.”

all of the time, actually.

“why gumi?” you asked sadly.

he shook his head. “i don’t really ever do anything. and i’m… difficult.”

“but you do everything. that’s all you’ve ever done.”

megumi frowned.

“i just piss people off baby.” he murmured. “i’m lucky you’re not one of them.”

“no gumi—” your grip tightened around his hand. “it’s not you though, it’s them. it’s their problem if they want to get pissed off and think of you a certain way, not yours. and that definitely doesn’t link to other situations in your life.”

you leaned your head down to try and catch his attention, his eyes drifting to yours once you did. “i want you to know that there is so much more that life wants to give you. so much. even more than what you have now… and you need to give yourself the chance to let it.”

megumi could only nod, and you sighed softly.

“you need to go easy on yourself gumi… please stop thinking that everything is your fault because it never has been. you’ve never done anything wrong.”

you tenderly ran the pads of your fingers over the back of his hand.

“life isn’t all that bad… it brought you to me, didn’t it?”

it did.

but when was it that megumi earned the rare privilege to be with you in the first place? what did he do so right that made you look at him the way that you did, when everything he did was always so fucking wrong?

and— and why did he receive the fortunes of time that night? the fortune that put you right in front of him at that party three years ago? the one he almost didn’t even go to?

because living a life that’s empty and dormant is all megumi knew how to do— blurring through all aspects of it without any means of pulling himself out from the waves of fucking nothing, thinking— believing that he made no significance to anything as the faces of everyone around him were hazy and confusing with a big fat ‘x’ plastered across every single one.

he never allowed himself to see. to feel. he never thought it was worth it. he never thought he was worth it.

so why did it feel like the universe made you just for him, when all he did in return was loathe it? why was it so forgiving?

“you know… i wasn’t a virgin when we met.” he mumbled.

“i know.” you responded softly. “there’s no way you fuck me this good without prior knowledge—”

he snorted, but eventually shook his head. 

“it was only one time. years ago. and i didn’t do it again until you.”

you only nodded understandingly, but the way your lips pursed in distaste was a dead giveaway to megumi that you weren’t particularly keen about it, and neither would he if it was the other way around, the both of you equally and funnily territorial.

“it was when yuji and i first got signed to the team.” he began. “we went to a season kick off party and a bunch of other players were there from other different sports. even international.”

you listened.

“i think that day was probably the worst i’ve ever felt in my life.” he opened up to you. “i didn’t really care about anything or feel anything… and i got really drunk when i don’t even drink like that. i was lost and trying to find a way to help it, and i was so fucking exhausted and— and angry at life for doing this to me... for leaving me alone.”

you swallowed the thick lump in your throat.

“so i got wasted to forget about it, and then i just went up to a random girl from i don’t know what team and i don’t even remember her name—” he ran an exasperated hand through his hair. “it didn’t help at all though. at all. i was still useless.”

megumi peered up at you then, a tiny sad smile on his face. 

“and if i knew you were coming i would’ve never done it.” he murmured. “i would’ve wanted you to have it.”

“useless?” you breathed out in disbelief. “how could you ever think you’re useless gumi?”

“i don’t do anything pretty baby.” he shook his head. “i don’t deserve the career i have, i don’t deserve the father i have, and i sure as fuck don’t deserve you—”

“but why?” you raised your voice a bit. “why can’t you just let yourself have those things? they’re yours they’re all yours everything that you’ve ever done in your life has led up to this point with you and i together. with your dad. with yuji and my best friend. you’re so fucking selfless and kind  and forgiving to the point where it’s dangerous because now you just don’t believe anything is rightfully yours.”

“i—”

“you’re everything to me. the greatest privilege i’ve ever gotten in my life is to literally just know you gumi. to know who you are and to know what you’ve done and what you represent… how significant you are.”

he stared.

“you didn’t get lucky with anything because you’ve earned it all. you’ve done everything right so please let yourself be happy baby… be selfish for once in your life and just take whatever it is that life is pushing to you without looking back because you deserve to do something like that after giving for so fucking long.”

you leaned in then and delicately planted your soft lips to his forehead, letting them linger there for a moment before pulling back and pressing your little cheek beside his lovingly.

“you deserve to be known, megumi.”

what specifically was it that he did that brought you to him? 

what the fuck was it that earned him the right to listen and receive your captivating loving words that soothed his pain like nothing else could? like nothing else ever could?

because whatever it was that he did, he wanted to keep doing over and over again for the rest of his life until the stars fell from the sky.

it was because of you that megumi already thought life wasn’t so bad after all.

the way you’d get excited over little things like magnets from greece and cake batter ice cream and baby deer and coffee cake and lady and the tramp gummy worm kisses, the way you’d laugh about almost anything even if it wasn’t that funny, the way you’d greet him every time you saw him with a skip to your step and a sweet little kiss to his face, the way you simply enjoyed the light soaked joys of life without any ounce of hatred in your heart like he had up until the moment he met you— all made him believe that life maybe is precious in the end. 

and your face never had an ‘x’ plastered over it when he first saw you.

your face was beautiful and radiant and clear— not a single haze or blur over it as he felt his body miraculously float to the top from his makeshift sea of nothing, your soul pulling on his hand so he could finally breathe for once when he hadn’t even said a word to you at the party yet— you standing there under the neon lights in a pretty little pink dress and an angelic fucking smile.

you were like being bathed in the rays of the sun— blissfully happy and free… and you loved him. something megumi to this day still couldn’t understand but never once questioned it, terrified of jinxing it away and you leaving him when dying sounded a lot more appealing to him than that.

and megumi couldn’t remember the last time he properly cried— tears rolling down his cheeks and all.

but he was doing it now, in the pitch black bathroom with the same person that taught him how to feel as his shoulders trembled, him straining and alarmed and completely lost as to what someone is supposed to do when they cry.

so megumi listened when his body pulled him forward and when his head gently tucked itself into your neck— your eyes widening and teary as you felt wet droplets fall and roll down your skin, him swallowing back hiccups.

“gumi?” you whispered worriedly, going to pull back but stopping once you felt him snake his arms around you and drag you slowly to sit on his lap.

“please stay.”

it was quick when you realized his words had double meaning as you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him so so close and snug that you hoped and prayed megumi would comprehend the unconditional love you had for him through your embrace as he silently weeped— him clutching at your clothes as if he was trying to make sure you were actually real and not just some fucked up dream where he finally learned to be happy.

“i’m never leaving megumi.” you said seriously. “ever. even when you ask me to or yell at me to… i won’t.”

you felt him solemnly nod, a comforting wave consuming the both of you as you sat and held him while he sniffled.

“…gumi.” he corrected after a moment, pinching your side.

“sorry!” you sputtered and quickly pecked his cheek. “sorry… i was having a serious moment and i needed to use your full government name.”

he huffed out a laugh through his tears.

“s’okay.”

you ran a soothing comforting hand along his back, megumi slumping into you at the feeling as you peppered gentle kisses along his forehead and wet face, wiping his cheeks continuously again and again patiently until he eventually settled and his breathing evened out.

he silently leaned forward and captured your lips in a kiss then, his hands coming up to cup your face as you cupped his, your mouth’s moving so slowly and softly as his thumbs caressed your pretty cheeks— you smiling through the kiss before gently pulling back.

“i love you pretty baby.” he grinned.

“i love you gumi…” you smiled kindly. “and if you ever leave me i’m strapping a bomb to my chest and laying on your bean bag until you change your mind.”

megumi burst out laughing, his little squeaks making you giggle as he shook his head and nudged your forehead playfully with his index finger.

“you’ll never have to worry about something like that.” he spoke lowly.

“and neither will you.”

he smiled.

“i—”

“megumi and y/n where the fuck are you?!”

you both froze, eyes wide.

“i completely forgot why we were in here in the first place.” you frantically whispered, him nodding along with you in agreement.

“oh my god they’re dead they’re dead—”

“satoru be quiet!—”

you heard multiple soft padded footsteps near the door of the bathroom, megumi wiping his eyes with his sleeves a little to get rid of the evidence before you reached up and helped him wipe his left over tears.

“don’t worry gumi.” you spoke sweetly. “the power’s still out so they won’t be able to see if that’s what you’re thinking about...”

he sent you a little smile and gave you a fat kiss on the cheek.

once your boyfriend gave you the all clear, the both of you slowly stood and unlocked the door— it creaking as you timidly opened it.

there on the other side, the rest of the group stood a couple of feet away, them jumping at the noise but relaxing once they saw it was just the two of you.

“what the hell were you guys doing in there?!” your best friend harshly whispered, rushing over and pulling you into a tight hug. “we couldn’t find you for like thirty minutes!”

“hiding.” megumi answered flatly, and she shot him a glare.

“so you just pick her up and take her away?! leaving the rest of us over there to die?!”

he nodded.

“you sadistic freak—”

“okay! okay—” yuji tugged your girl friend back from her mid attempt lunge and into his arms, squeezing in hopes of it calming her down with megumi smirking from behind. “—we found them it’s all over…”

“megumi why couldn’t you pick me up too on the way?” gojo whined. “i’m your dad!”

“you’re too heavy.”

he gasped. “so you’re saying you would’ve?”

“no—”

“you’ve changed him y/n you’ve changed him!” gojo jumped on you and spun you around. “he’s a new man! a loving man! i’m paying for your textbooks too!—”

“no!—”

you all decided to reconvene in the living room at some point after that, huddling together on the same couch and staring silently at the wall ahead of you in the dark— soaking in your pathetic fear and refusal to go out and check outside as you all froze and trembled with chattering teeth at how cold it was.

finally, you had had enough.

“i’m going outside.” you muttered, standing from the couch.

megumi’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

“no.” he spoke firmly. “no you’re not.”

“yes i am gumi, i have to try and see what happened to the breaker box outside or we’re all gonna freeze—”

“no.”

“yes.”

“no.”

“gumi!”

“i’m coming with you.”

“absolutely n— eeekkk!”

megumi had you thrown over his shoulder before you knew it as you squealed, trudging over to the front door as the rest of them watched with wide eyes.

“brave brave souls…” yuji whispered dreamily. “i’ll miss them…”

“sacrifice is the purest form of love…” gojo sniffed. “they love us—”

their voices trailed off as megumi carried you outside and to the side of the cabin where he assumed the breaker box might be, you yelping when he roughly bit your ass just before setting you back down on your feet.

you both treaded along carefully, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath each step as the chilly air whipped through your bodies and produced goosebumps as a result, megumi’s hand clasped around yours as he led the way.

“do you think it’s a person or an animal that did it?” you spoke, tone hushed.

“if it was a person i think they would’ve broken in by now.” he mumbled. “but then i don’t know why the power went out.”

“me neither…” you gnawed at the inside of your cheek in worry, squinting your eyes to try and see better through the darkness as the only sign of life apart from you two were the ringing crickets in the trees.

you clasped your other hand around your already intertwined ones anxiously, him squeezing your hand reassuringly in exchange.

“maybe we should’ve brought a bat.” you suggested. “you know… because you swing it and stuff.”

he chuckled. “swing it and stuff?”

“uh huh.” you nodded. “for protection. i realize now that if it is a person we’re kind of dead because we brought nothing—”

just as you were approaching the corner to the balcony, a sudden rustling scratchy noise made you both freeze in place immediately. 

“we’re done for—” you whispered frantically. “—we’re dead okay dying so now i have to tell you before we go that you’re the hottest man i’ve ever met in my damn life and i hope you know that—”

his cheeks grew hot. “baby we’re not dying—”

“do you see it? where is it? what is it? what’s making that noise—”

megumi peeked his head around the balcony, his eyes scanning the view in front of him before his shoulders slumped and his face went dead.

“it’s a fucking raccoon.”

“huh?”

you walked forward, peering around yourself only to find a chunky fluffy raccoon by the breaker box chewing on one of the disconnected cables, the lounge chairs and decorative plant vases on the balcony all knocked over in disarray that could only explain the constant loud banging you all heard earlier.

“we were losing our minds for this.” he mumbled.

you laughed and pulled him along, the raccoon perking up and freezing once it sensed your presence before it dropped the chewed up cable, its heavy little paws scurrying off into the trees ahead and disappearing into the night.

“aw maaann!” you whined. “i wanted to pet it…”

“don’t think that would’ve been smart baby.” he chuckled, walking over to the breaker box and crouching down.

“why not?” you pouted. “it was cute. and chubby.”

“because it’s a wild animal.” he blindly tugged and fiddled with a few cables in hopes that something would magically happen. “it could’ve bit you if you did.”

“so? you bite me all the time what’s the difference.”

he laughed. “i’ll stop then.”

“no!” you cried, throwing your arms around his neck and leaning your weight on his back as he let out a surprised huff, him still crouching as his hands instantly came under your thighs to keep you from slipping.

“no gumi i’m sorry! please! i like it when you do it!”

“you complained.”

“i didn’t! i was just trying to justify petting the raccoon i swear!”

a sly smile played across his lips.

“say you’re sorry.”

“i’m sorry!”

“and that you love me.”

“i love you i love you!”

“and that you’re never leaving me.”

“i’m never leaving you ever ever ever—”

megumi plugged in the chewed up cable in a random lucky slot and the cabin sprung to life, the warm lights instantly blinding both your visions from being in the dark for so long— you hearing the group inside scream and cheer as his strong legs stood up, hoisting you further up his back and properly hooking his arms underneath your thighs.

“nice job gumi!” you gushed. “cool baseball man and electrician.”

he let out an amused breath as he turned his head to the side and pecked your cheek, his heart fuzzy as you readjusted your arms and wrung yourself closer to him, the side of your cheek pressed up against his.

“i plugged it into a random spot.”

“and what.” you quipped. “i would’ve plugged it into the wrong spot and blown up the cabin.”

megumi smiled to himself as he continued to walk along the side of the air bnb and back over to the front, his legs carrying you up the steps of the porch and inside the house where you found yuji and your best friend bickering over human earthworm four again, and gojo nearly passed out on the couch with his hand inside a bag of chips and crumbs over his mouth.

“you guys!” your girl friend sat up. “who was outside?! did you see?!”

“it was a raccoon!” you exclaimed as megumi carefully bent his knees a bit so you could slide off his back. “and a chubby one! it knocked over everything and chewed up the breaker box.”

“a fucking raccoon?” she groaned, slumping off the couch and trudging over to the stairs. “i’m going to bed all that freaking mess and stupidity for a damn animal—”

“ooo! wait for me babe!” yuji quickly turned off the tv and zoomed over to her, picking her up bridal style like nothing as she squealed and laughed.

you watched them with a warm smile go up the stairs before walking over to a snoozed out gojo.

“just let him be baby.” megumi murmured and you stopped, him carefully prying his greasy hand away from the chip bag and tossing it before grabbing a throw blanket and settling it gently over his dad, you smiling and giving your man a kissy on the lips before retreating up to your room yourselves to sleep, wanting to rest up for the big drive back home tomorrow.

but definitely not before megumi pinned you down and gave you the best eat out of your fucking life.

“i can’t! i can’t i can’t gumi please i can’t cum again—”

“i’m eating.” he grumbled against your wet abused pussy, pulling you roughly back down after you tried to run away from his mouth— his hips subconsciously thrusting against the mattress to ease his aching dick.

“you’ve made—” pant! “you’ve made me cum three times already ple— eeekk!”

megumi slobbered over your slick folds, completely not giving a single shit about what you had to say as his tongue plunged into your hole repeatedly with his arms locked around your waist, keeping you meanly cemented to the bed with no inch for escape.

and he was eating so loudly too— slurping and gulping as he ran his mouth over your pussy side to side as you squealed, your fingers gripping the sheets and trembling when he pulled back to spit on your puffy overstimulated clit.

“gumi plleeaassee!—” you hiccuped, his dick spasming at the way you gasped and choked and clenched your thighs around his head, watching the way his drool oozed down your clit and pooled on the bed over the already wet patch on the sheets.

“nuh uh.” he spoke with his mouth full, tongue licking a fat stripe up your slit. “not ‘till you squirt on my face.”

“but i— i caaann’t!—”

“i’ll make you then.”

megumi let your clit go with a pop and hovered up over you, him sucking messily over his ring and middle finger before trailing them back down to your pussy and prodding your hole open, your breath hitching as you felt them sink inside of you— megumi nudging your head to the side with his cheek before diving and biting over your exposed neck.

you shrieked breathlessly when he wasted absolutely no time at all and started skillfully jerking his fingers inside and out of your hole rapidly, his mouth licking and sucking over your neck as your pussy practically screamed and gushed over the speed, your hand shooting down to grab his wrist.

“fuckkk— m’gonna cum again gumi please let me please—”

“you’re so polite pretty baby...” he hummed against your neck, his breath shuddering as he fucked you fast with his fingers. “only if you squirt. if not m’taking my hand away.”

“no!” you shook your head frantically as he licked over a new hickey amongst the other five he already gave you. “don’t take it away i’ll do it i’ll do it!—”

you didn’t even know if you could since squirting isn’t something you can just do on command, but you were so pathetically desperate for him and his mean fucking mouth and fingers that you didn’t give a single fuck and just wanted to cream all over his big hand.

megumi groaned into your neck and rammed his digits over and over and over, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as the sounds coming out of your hole were wet and sticky and gross and it only further got megumi off as he forced your legs to stay open, you running off a high pitched moan as huge fat drops of your squirt trickled out, him shooting down and hovering his mouth over your pussy so you could finish all over his face just like he wanted.

“fuuuucckk just like that baby yeah—” he panted, slowly slobbering up your remaining release as your body twitched with ecstasy and severe overstimulation, you literally limp on the bed as he soon peeled back and licked his tongue over his lips like he just ate the most delicious meal of his entire existence (he did), wiping his wet face down with his sleeve after.

megumi pulled your panties back up and your shirt down with a kiss to your wrist, settling into bed next to you and chuckling when you whined dazedly and weakly pushed against his chest as he tried to pull you in.

“what baby?”

“you’re mean.” you mumbled, eyes fluttering closed as you shoved your nose into his neck.

“m’sorry.” he spoke softly, a little smirk on his lips. “what did i do?”

“you know what.” you grumbled, feigning annoyance. “and how am i supposed to hide the ten hickeys you just gave me you vacuum.”

he laughed into your hair as he ran a soothing hand over your bare thigh. “i’ll give you one of my hoodies baby it’ll be fine.”

“mhm.”

and he did— the following morning when you all packed up and loaded your belongings and suitcases back into the van for the long drive home, megumi gave you one of his big baseball merch hoodies with his last name embroidered on the back to wear and hide your hickeys with the hood up.

but you should’ve known you were never safe around your best friend… because on the ride back home she pounced on you from above your seat without mercy and snatched the hood off.

“oh my god!” she gasped, cackling as she peered and pointed at your love bites. “megumi you little leech! what are you doing to her every night give her a damn break let her breathe—”

megumi pushed her off and she fell back in her seat behind them, her uncontrollable laughter making you whine and pull the hood back over your head in embarrassment.

“what? what’s so funny?” yuji asked, unplugging one of his earbuds.

“y/n—”

“nothing!” you jumped up and glared at her. “nothing! nothing’s funny at all i don’t know why she’s laughing.”

your best friend snickered and blew you a kissy face, shrugging. “yeah i forgot what it was—”

“my kids!” gojo called from the front, pushing his round black sunglasses up the bridge of his nose before beaming. “now how would we feel if i was finally invited back to one of your games ehh? megumi? am i allowed back in—”

“no.” he deadpanned.

your eyebrows furrowed. “allowed?”

“satoru’s banned from the stadium.” yuji laughed. “our management won’t allow him on property and if they see him they freak and call the police.”

“huh?!” you sat up. “why!”

“he brought fireworks to our first world series and set them off in the middle of the fucking game.” megumi grumbled.

you slapped a hand over your mouth and laughed loudly, gojo shooting you a cheeky smile from the rear view mirror.

“that was you?!” you shook your head incredulously. “i remember that! it woke me up i was sleeping during the game—”

“—like she always was until the day she saw her little leech.” your girl friend cut in, and you couldn’t really counter that as you giggled and nodded in agreement.

“can you blame me?!” gojo exclaimed. “my son’s first world series and you expect me not to do something extravagant to showcase my fatherly love?”

“you could’ve just sat there and watched.” megumi pushed, readjusting his arms and pulling you closer as your head fell on his shoulder. 

“but that’s borinngg! did you like the fireworks y/n?”

“i did!” you perked up. “they were really pretty! and it kept me awake for the rest of the game so i didn’t miss them winning.”

“see?! the only one who appreciates me in this van is your wife megumi. that’s why she’s my favorite.”

you giggled as megumi rolled his eyes, and he turned his attention to you once he felt you tug a little at his jacket, the rest of the group going back to their own worlds.

“whenever your dad calls me your wife… it reminds me of when you drew my initials in the dirt.”

his brows pinched. “how come?”

“because that’s what i saw when my life flashed before my eyes.” you spoke softly. “and what i wished for on 11:11.”

megumi’s heart incandescently melted at your little words as he linked them to what you had mentioned earlier in the bathroom, his mind playing wonderful images of a married life with you— something he had already pictured many many times before in the late hours of the night when he was up lovesick over you. 

“i wish for it too. everyday.” he murmured, and you beamed, your cute face coming up to give him a sugary kiss before your head settled back over his shoulder.

“good.” you replied. “because if not i was gonna strap two bombs to my chest and superglue myself down to your bean bag.”

he snorted and fixed over the throw blanket that was draped over the two of you, pinching your little cheek before getting comfy with you again on the coushy black leather seat, both of your eyes watching the passings of trees and cabins and rivers from the window for a while as the slight rock of the van and megumi’s arms eventually lulled you to sleep, his scent filling your body with warmth and familiarity that soothed your mind over with little to no effort at all.

megumi looked down at you then and stared before he trailed a delicate thumb over your bottom lip, his eyes greedily drinking in the sight of just you as you slept peacefully— the details of your face something he wanted to commit to unforgettable memory and recall across every single life time in hopes that it would bring him to you in each one.

and he wondered why the universe was so forgiving again as he watched you sleep.

but instead of spending time desperately trying to come up with a useless answer, it still wouldn’t change the fact that he was given the chance to properly live again with an angel like you… and he found himself thankful for the universe in exchange actually.

thankful for it listening to him. thankful for it watching him. thankful for it granting him the life that he lived now, the same one he dreamed about and yearned over since he was a teen, and the same one that wouldn’t have been possible in the first place if it wasn’t for you bouncing into his life— silly and talkative as you settled into the crevices of his existence and got comfortable with no means of ever leaving, him never wanting you to as he shut the doors of his soul and bolted it tight with thirty different locks.

you made him happy, as simple as that may sound, for it was something that he never was.

you showed him how to love. you showed him how to laugh. you showed him how to cry as the concept itself and feeling was extremely foreign to him— almost taboo even. 

you saw him cry before he even saw himself. and though he half expected to be embarrassed and relieved that it was pitch black in the bathroom so you wouldn’t have properly seen— he didn’t really fucking care because it was you. 

and how was crying supposed to feel? that much he couldn’t tell.

but if crying felt like that every time— afloat, alive, good— with the same woman who teetered over the edge and pulled him from his empty sea, with the same one who noticed him when nobody else did, and the same one who made him feel like he was blessed by the eternal warmth of the sun with just her gaze alone—

then maybe crying was something megumi wanted to do all of the time.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs @drftnzume @k0z3me @k4zivy @dindjarins1ut @starrnai @stilettoheelz @tinyray-lovesfood @mirophobic @aylinnhealsformeow @zeesturniolo @asparkofapricity @arionater @lolololololhanma @dancer545 @dongh9e @bluberrymochi17 @princesstiti14 @heeseung-lover686 @livmarauder @kikiiguess @dee-writes-anime @iloveoldermenn @starrysho @nanabeesblog @simplyraeblue

tumblr won’t let me tag some of you i don’t know why ugh!!! :((

[irndad]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[envy-of-the-apple]

Fun Sized

Dark!Fairy!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: You save a tiny fairy. Gojo Satoru decides that you and him belong together, regardless of how little he is and how little you think of him. 

(Warnings: Yandere, not many warnings in this one ngl)

The fae are a dangerous bunch. You've heard more than enough stories to be spooked. Sirens will sing beautiful songs before dragging you into the depths. Dragons will burn you to a crisp before a second's thought. Nagas would make sure you were alive until the very end as they feast on your organs. Centaurs would use their powerful legs to stomp yours to mere twigs. Driders would suck your blood until there's nothing left but a husk of your body. 

You've never heard anything about fairies. They didn't live in your region. Their lands were high in the mountains, where humans rarely traveled. Also, they were so tiny, according to the books. The biggest seemed to be barely the size of your hand. They were harmless, you concluded. Harmless to humans. Harmless to you. 

He had been harmless. At first, you thought it was a cluster of leaves in the stream, but as the current drew it closer, you noticed tiny arms and a tiny face. He was unconscious; you didn't even know if the poor thing was alive. 

The Fae are a dangerous bunch, but saving one tiny fairy couldn't hurt, right? 

Your guest quickly proved to be a bigger hassle than you initially thought. 

When you brought him to your cottage, he laid in a basket of warm linen, asleep for hours near the warm fireplace. The blueberry pie was still hot when you turned around and caught him staring at you. 

It was silent for a while, and then you said: 

"Do you like sweets?" 

That's how your tentative friendship with the other kind started. Gojo Satoru (you later learned his name) was a boisterous thing. He did in fact like sweets, which helped bribe his friendship. You're surprised that he ate so much despite his stature. Did all faires have black holes for stomachs? 

He healed up rather quickly. At first, you were afraid that his wings had crumbled due to the prolonged exposure to water. But after stuffing himself full of the blueberry syrup, he smiled widely before flitting out your window. 

You thought that would be the end of it, but then he just came coming back. 

Apparently, your baking skills left an impact on the small creature. He didn't visit often, but when he did, you would always make sure you had something. Whether it be cookies, brownies, or that blueberry pie he was so fond of. Anything was good enough for Gojo's taste palette. 

"In the fae lands," Gojo said when you prodded, "sweets are too sweet. Yours is just enough."  You weren't too sure what he meant by that, but you took it as a compliment. You were sure the fae wasn't something who'd give praises so easily. 

It's not like you were upset at providing food for your tiny friend. Quite the contrary. You loved it when Gojo visited. You found him fascinating, the way he could fly miles and miles above your head. How tiny he was. The amount of times you had to hold yourself back from squishing him between your fingers because of how cute he was scared you. 

And you hoped you were fascinating enough to entertain Gojo. You had to be; you don't know why else he'd keep coming back. Even after gobbling down your cooking, he'd lounge around your home, entertaining you with his stories. You learned of the other magical creatures he was in contact with, the students he taught, and how fond he was of them. You don't know why he was so open about sharing his personal life with you, in the stories fae hated humanity, but you would never complain. 

It doesn't click as to why Gojo's so invested in you until he comes out and says it himself. 

"Instead of me coming back and forth like this, why don't you just come live with me?" He says, "I would cut down my flying time by a lot." 

You stare at him in amusement, sure he's joking. "I'm not sure how I'd fit in your house." You tease. "I'd probably crush all your furniture." 

"I can make my house bigger." He announces. "Don't worry 'bout it, just say yes." 

You stare at him, slowly realizing that he isn't as amused. He's still smiling, but there's no joke. 

"No," you finally say, "I'm not doing that." 

He cocks his head surprised as though he's never had someone reject him before. 

"What?" He asks, "Why not?"

"Well." You clear your throat. "For one, I'm human, and you're a fairie. I don't think Fae would appreciate a human wandering around in their lands." 

"Who cares about all that?" Gojo waves his hands around. "You'll be with me, anyways. It'd be fine." 

"I don't get why you're so fixated on the human realm." His mouth turns into a sneer. "It's all so boring. Nothing ever happens. And our magic is much more advanced than yours." It's true. You can't disagree with that. Satoru didn't wear clothes made out of leaves or vines, unlike the common fairy stereotype. His clothing looked much more advanced compared to your loose cotton dresses. A black shirt with intricate buttons and long sleeves. Along with black trousers. You wonder what material could make his suit so shiny. 

You laugh at his disgust. At that time, you saw Gojo as a tiny child clutching their mother's skirts, a cute puppy. You hadn't yet taken Gojo Satoru as the threat he was. 

"It's because I am human." You say, not offended by his remarks. "So I like being near other humans." 

He groans as though your logic makes no sense. "Yuji and the others ask about you all the time, though. They've been dying to meet you." 

"You talk to your students about the giant that cooks for you? I'm flattered." 

"You're dodging," he warns. You roll your eyes. 

"Satoru, I'm not coming to live with you. It'd be too much of a hassle." You finally say. "Besides, you're not my type." 

"I'm everyone's type." He argues. 

"Not mine." You smile, and then you make your first blunder. 

"I like my men a little taller." 

He stiffens, and you know you said the wrong thing. Your smile fades as does the cheery energy in your cottage. He says nothing, but he's zipping out your window before you can apologize. 

He doesn't return for the longest time. You count the weeks. Guilt weighs on your shoulders, heavy and burdensome. Every day you bake something even tastier than the day before. Not even that is enough to coax him back. 

You think you've lost him forever, when he returns on one sweltering summer evening. 

"Hi." You blink. He's watching you, sitting idly on the window, kicking his tiny feet. 

"Hi." He smiles. 

You're happy enough to grab him with one fist and hugging him to your chest, but as always, you stop yourself. Instead, a shy smile rests on your face. 

"I'm sorry," you say, "I really am...will you accept an apology pie?" 

He grins wider, and you relax. 

He eats, and you're grateful. Something you once cherished in your life has finally come back to you. You might not return Gojo's feelings, but you still care for him. You'd rather die than ever hurt him again. 

"No, you're right." Gojo surprisingly concedes when you apologize for the third time. "We're too different. It'd never work out. Not as the way you are, right now." 

You nod, grateful he's so understanding. "Exactly." 

He's finishing up when he announces he brought you a gift. 

"I've been working on it for the past few weeks," he cheerily says. "It took a while, but it's finally safe for human consumption." 

He takes out a tiny glass bottle filled with something swirling and blue. When he asks you to bring a glass of water, you acquiesce. To your astonishment, when the elixer is poured, the entire water becomes a swirling mass of a color comparable to none other than galaxies. You're so mesmerized by the color, it's enough to stump your voice. 

"For you!" He declares. "You've always been cooking for me; thought I might return the favor, just this once." 

"What is it?" You ask, amazed by the color. You admire the glance, unaware of the glint in Gojo's eye. 

"It's kinda like the wine you have in the mortal realms, but a little less poignant." He gives when you glance at him. "Go on, tell me what you think?" 

You're too trusting, and so you make your second blunder. 

Once you start, you can't seem to stop. The taste is otherworldly, addicting. You drink and drink, not wasting a single drop. You're breathing heavily once the cup detaches from your lips. 

"Amazing." You say before looking at him. His eyes are too wide, but you're too distracted by the taste still on your tongue. "Seriously, what was that? Can I make it here?" 

He scratches the back of his head. "Not really, the ingredients are pretty hard to find." He shrugs. "Besides, it's supposed to be a one-time use." 

Your eyebrows twist, and then the world sinks. 

You're falling. You think you are. You don't really know. Everything feels like it's stretching. The walls of your tiny little cottage get higher and higher and higher. The floor gets more and more warped. You're sinking, sinking through the air. When you scream, nothing comes out. You feel like you're choking because you can't breathe, and then your vision grows black. 

The next time you open your eyes. It's still dark, and to your horror, you realize you're buried underneath something. 

You panic, clawing and tearing your way out. The material gives away easily. It's fabric. Cotton. But there was so much, an undying ocean of fabric. You lift yourself up from the pile and that's when you realize you're completely naked. 

The mountain of cotton you just climbed to the top of was your old dress. 

Everything was gigantic—the table, the chairs. The windows seemed endless. The ceiling looked miles above you, and you know what happened, but your brain can't formulate it because it can't be—it just can't be.

There's a flutter of wings. You always thought he was so quiet before. Now, he's all you can hear. Immediately, you wrap your body with the cloth. It's hard to keep still; your body is buzzing with nerves and you still can't understand. You have to force yourself to look at him.

You don't know why you expected shock, guilt, something other than the pure manic glee on his face. Satoru towers above you, head tilted. He bends down, cupping your trembling face in his hand because he's big enough to do that now. 

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any more adorable." He coos. 

You can see him now. His skin isn't pale, it's borderline translucent. His canines are sharp and pointy. And his eyes. Oh God you've never seen eyes so terrifying before—an endless mass of blue, threatening to swallow you whole. 

He wasn't a cute little fairy. He was anything but that. 

"Gojo..." You start, heart squeezing. "What did you do.." 

You know. He knows. That's why he ignores your question entirely. 

"I'm surprised it worked." He says, mainly talking to himself. "Shoko said it might be a dud, and she was so sure of it, that I mostly believed her." 

"But now look at you!" He roughly pinches your cheek. "You're the perfect size now." 

"Stop." You blubber, pushing his hand off of you. "Don't touch me. Change me back. Change me back." 

He frowns. "Why would I do that? You being human-sized was always such a hassle. Lumbering around. Way too loud. Don't get me wrong, I adore you either way." He proclaims like it's something benevolent. "But this has its charm."

He leans forward, and you scuddle backward in fear. His grin widens. 

"So, am I tall enough for you, now?" 

[grey-viridian]

DTIYS for @tizeline

Congrats on 10k!!! (love your artstyle btw sooo soft and beautiful i wanna look at your art all day!)

The original outfit was perfect but I still felt like something was missing...

[viaisms]

twenty questions

summary: penelope accidentally mentions that someone has a crush on you, she can't say who it is but you make it into a game so she can :) warnings: spencer reid x bau!reader, gn reader, mentions of drinking wine, pg-13 language, talk of bugs?? its a nickname,,, lots of use of pet names lol, fluff, no mention of y/n yeehaw, pining, you're completely oblivious about how much spencer wants you, not proofread </3 authors note: first fic!! i haven't officially written a fic in. gosh, years?? since the pandemmy :( i really want to get back into writing, so have this little blurb that i thought of! by all means i am here for any constructive criticism you may have<3 wc: 2.7k

The clatter of fingertips tapping against a keyboard filled the dimly lit BAU office. You sit at your desk, eyes fixed on the glowing screen as you scroll through reports, cross-referencing case files and taking notes. The quiet hum of the building has long since settled into a lull; you barely realize how deeply you've fallen into your work,

The distant ticking of a clock finally breaks your trance, but it wasn't until you feel the hairs arise on the back of your neck that you become fully aware. You slowly blink with a quiet groan, glancing at the time at the bottom of your screen.

10:58 PM. Shit.

You align your fingertips atop of your keyboard, the soft clatter filling the office once more before you hear the all-too familiar voice.

"Babes, what are you still doing here?!"

You turn and see nobody else but Garcia, finally emitting from her bat-cave. Her arms cross against her chest, a disappointed hum coming from her pressed lips. "You, my love, should be at home in a nice hot bath with a glass of wine."

Your lips splay a lazy smirk as you lean back in your chair, stretching your body with a quiet groan. "I was just about to wrap up, Pen, I promise..." You assure your colleague, feeling the strain of staring at a screen all day every time that you blink.

"Good deal my beautiful bug," Penelope chirps as her arms drop to her side. She's just as tired as you are, having spent all of her day digging through databases to find information on a potential UnSub. Her heals click as she goes to turn away, walking back towards her office.

"You know, you have to get your beauty sleep for your lover boy in the mor..." Her once confident words grow timid as she begins to trail off.

Penelope's breath catches in her throat as she realizes the words that so effortlessly flew off her tongue, her blood running cold at her grave error. Spencer is going to kill her.

"My what?" Your eyes narrow, scoffing in a confused manner.

She stills, yet she doesn't turn to you.

"Nothing! I... I didn't say anything..." She mutters with a nervous stammer of your name, the rhythmic clicking of her heels continuing as she speeds to her office.

You stand, the wheels of your office chair sliding out from under you as you feel a weakness in both of your legs. You stretch once more, trying to think of when the last time you even stood was.

"Penelope Grace Garcia!"

Her hand is resting on the cold, slick material of the doorknob that has the potential to separate her from this deep abyss that she just dug herself into. Instead, she stills for another moment before turning to you once more.

Penelope has to think of a lie, and quick.

"Obviously... I was talking about Morgan!"

There is a reason why she does what she does for a living, and is rarely out on the field with the rest of the crew unless her technical skills are needed.

Your eyes squint with a tentative hum. You don't believe Garcia, not for a second.

"You do know I'm a profiler..." A grumble of amusement comes from your chest at Penelope's attempt.

"Right..." She murmurs, her voice quiet as she breaks your gaze. She's mentally kicking herself for blabbing, such a rookie mistake in the game of workplace gossip.

Your eyebrows raise as you await Garcia's confession. However, she stays strong, not uttering another peep from her velvet-painted lips.

"So...?" You sing after a beat of silence, stars of hope glistening in the pools of your eyes.

With a whine, Penelope's shoulders drop.

"Look... I love you, sweetness, I do..." Her lips droop into a frown. Penelope's eyes greet your own somberly with a shake of her own head. "But I promised I wouldn't tell..."

You feel a weight of disappointment on your chest, and with a sigh, you decide to drop it. Penelope sees the way the sparkle in your eye begins to dim, eliciting a whine from her barely audible to your own ears.

"But!" She chirps, trying to share some of her own light with you. Penelope shouldn't be doing this, and she knows it. However, she is far too nurturing to let a beautiful smile like yours falter for even a second. "If you guess it... it's not technically me telling you, right?"

"You know? I like the way your mind thinks," You hum, reveling in the fact that you got your way. "Twenty questions?" The cold sensation of the faux-leather hits you as you sit back in your chair.

The corner of Penelope's lips twitch upwards as a combination of guilt and excitement course through her veins. "You know I love a good game, hit me..." She murmurs, her voice self-assured as she pulls a chair from a nearby desk, her legs crossing as she sits next to you.

"Okay..." You mutter with a shaky sigh. The pounding of your heart fills your entire body, your stomach slightly cramping with nerves. "Is it someone I know?"

"Uh, duh?"

Your eyes flutter shut, raking through potential victims that fell for whatever love trap you didn't even intent on setting. "Male or female?"

"Acht! That's not part of the rules my curious friend and you know it," Her dark eyes narrow as she playfully scolds her colleague. "I'm totally counting it though, eighteen more questions..."

With pressed lips, you weigh out the obvious individuals who are least likely to be a contender. Penelope sees how deep you are in thought, and she can't help herself but quietly scoff.

How can you not know it's Spencer? She thinks to herself. Everyone around the office sees it -- everyone but you, apparently. As you think, her mind wanders to about two months prior, where Spencer came to her for love advice. Penelope, being herself, already knew he was fawning over you. She picked up on it the moment the genius somehow grew more awkward every time he were to speak to you.

However, also being herself, she refused to give him any sound advice until he spilled who the lucky contender was; which just so happened to be you.

The sound of your voice pulls her out of her own mind.

"Do I see them often?"

The corners of her lips prop upwards, almost tauntingly. "Very," she affirms.

Someone you see very often... you mentally walk through your day-to-day routine, retracing every step no matter how minuscule. You awake every morning to nobody in your apartment but your cat, besides the occasional sleepover with a friend every now and again. You ready yourself for work alone, your first stop in the morning being the local coffee shop down the street...

"Ooh! Is it someone from the coffee shop?" You chirp, your heart beginning to race at the idea of an unspoken stranger admiring your beauty from afar. Individuals you see there on a day-to-day basis flood your mind, although it completely falls empty for the exception of one person; a barista behind the counter, roughly your age who is not bad looking in the slightest.

"That would be a negative..." Her red-painted lips press together, a slight pang of disappointment hitting you in the gut that it wasn't the barista.

"Darn..." You tut, your mind trying to silently place the pieces of the puzzle together. Someone you know, someone you see often, not someone from the coffee shop...

Penelope can't believe how oblivious you are. How do you not pick up on the fact that Spencer follows you around the office like a lost puppy? Or the fact that when the two of you are on the field together, he insists you go with him or vice versa because he feels the need to protect you?

"No way that it's a colleague?" Your brows stitch together, your head slanting as you throw the inconceivable idea into the open.

Penelope's head slightly tilts downwards as she gazes at you through the top of her frames. She flashes you a sly, almost flirtatious grin at your not-so-far-fetched theory.

"And if it is?"

The feeling of your heart hammering in your heart is felt throughout your entire body, your cheeks warming as you feel blood rush to your brain.

"Who?!" You exclaim, completely forgoing the rules to the game. This narrows your options to about seven. Your hands fumble with the cotton on the hem of your shirt as you narrow your options down even further, a shuttering breath falling from your lips.

"How do you not know?!" Penelope is quick to match your energy, an actual pain shooting through her chest at your own naivety. Her brows raise as her eyes widen, her fists balling as she folds herself back from blurting it out.

Your lips part as you're about to exclaim something quick and witty back to your colleague when it hits you. Like a fish gulping for water, you feel the soft skin of your lips quickly snap shut.

The memories hit you all at once: the mornings you're in a rush and you forget your coffee - Reid excusing himself for a moment with a muttered excuse before returning with it minutes later, the nights you return home from a case and he offers to spend time with you because it pains you being alone after what you saw, the countless facts he will ramble to you on the plane because damn it, you're the only one that actually listens to him.

"Oh my god, Reid?" Your jaw drops as you gasp, your arms numbing as your nerves shoot past the roof and to the stratosphere.

With a relieved sigh, Penelope's palms slap against her thighs, planting her leg down onto the floor with her other one. "Finally!" She groans, almost feeling a sense of comfort that you know and the weird tension around the office while the two are around would soon come to an end.

"Since when?!" Your heart ticks against your chest so hard that you can hear it in your ears. Never in a million years would you assume it would be Spencer that would be silently pining over you. Reid?!

"Since like... forever, buttercup!" Penelope giggles. She can see the dots being connected in the pretty little brain of yours, and god, she loves it. Her voice softens, a warm, almost maternal intent behind them. "We really should be getting home..." She groans, her gaze flicking to the clock on the wall. "Since you two are totes madly in love already, let me know when one of you decides to make the move, okay?"

With a roll of your eyes, the back of your hand ever so gently strikes the side of Garcia's arm. She notices the way blush speckles across your face, a knowing grin playing against her own. You can't ignore the way your chest fuzzes over at the thought of Spencer feeling about you the way you feel about him, it makes your stomach ache with desire; you don't know if you love or hate the sensation.

"Goodnight, Garcia..." A mix between a chuckle and a sigh of contentment is emitted from you. She mumbles a quick 'good night' with a quick, playful wink before standing from her chair, returning it to its original home.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

The next morning you're in a hurry to get to work, oversleeping by a long shot as it took you forever to wind down last night due to your wandering thoughts.

You get to your desk with merely minutes to spare, a tired, overwhelmed groan falling from your lips as you place your bag in your desk and splay your jacket against the back of your chair.

"Long night last night, agent?"

You don't even have to look up to know who it is... your body freezes for a moment, not sure if you're prepared to deal with this; not yet, anyways.

With a soft sigh, your gaze is lifted and immediately greeted with Spencer's. His large, curious and caring stare. His hazel eyes almost bare into your own, causing a tingle to run down your spine. You try to ignore the butterflies that patter within the walls of your stomach, yet they're hard to confine.

"Yeah... I'm fine, Reid," You nod, your lips tentatively pressing together. "Just didn't sleep worth the damn last night... just... thinking about the case..." You trail, the sound of your voice growing softer and quieter like a beautiful decrescendo.

His lips part for just a moment, an inaudible 'ah' coming from him before giving you an understanding nod.

"I figured... Garcia told me you were here late last night and I kind of... presumed this may happen," He muses with an awkward chuckle. "Which is why... I brought you this..."

Reid's tall frame trails away from your desk for a moment, which draws out a soft hum from you as you tap your fingertips against the smooth, cool material of your desk.

His long stride is quick to return, your heart almost leaping out of your throat as he sees what's within his long, slender fingers.

Your favorite coffee.

You accept the gesture, your stomach doing flips as you take the cup within the confines of your own grasp. You mumble something quick and playful, telling Spencer that he is your favorite person in the world right now for such a small action.

The feeling of someone else watching you is burned into the back of your skull, a sensation churning in your gut that you can't shake. Your gaze flicks over to the side, in which you're immediately greeted by Garcia.

She not-so-subtly flashes two thumbs up at you, her nails painted a shade of dark purple. "Go get 'em!" She mouths in approval, your gaze quickly turning over to the male in front of you in attempt to hide Penelope's matchmaking attempt.

"Hey... do you um... maybe want to get coffee at this place together sometime?" You attempt to thickly swallow down your nerves, trying to soothe the heartbeat creeping out of your chest.

Spencer is silent a moment, his lips twitching upwards in a sign of approval at your suggestion. You see the thoughts shifting through his mind, the rates of his blinks increasing in a sense of disbelief that you're actually asking him this.

"I-- um... yeah! Let's do tomorrow before work? If... you're okay getting up that early, if not we can totally do a different time, perhaps--"

"Tomorrow it is..." You cut him off, something you rarely do. He nods in agreement, a quiet 'tomorrow' mumbled from his lips as he attempts to conceal his excitement.

You’re not sure how to shake off the butterflies in your stomach, but Spencer’s shy smile is enough to make you feel warm all over. You take a sip of your coffee, letting the moment linger. Before you can say anything else, Garcia’s voice breaks through your thoughts, louder than life.

"You two better not cancel on me! I want details!" she teases from across the room, flashing a mischievous grin your way. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips.

Spencer, now fully aware of the matchmaker’s antics, lets out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair, looking even more flustered than before.

You meet his gaze again, a new kind of tension settling between you—a mix of nerves, excitement, and something deeper that you’re not ready to name just yet. You take a breath, feeling that the next chapter of whatever this is has already started, and it’s thrilling.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you murmur, unable to stop the grin that’s threatening to split your face. Spencer nods, his smile small but genuine, as he turns to head to his desk.

As he walks away, you catch a glimpse of Garcia again, this time with an exaggerated wink. You shake your head, but you can’t suppress the warmth blooming in your chest. Tomorrow’s going to be interesting, to say the least.

And maybe... just maybe, things are finally falling into place.

[oobbbear]

I neeeeeeed to know how Fidd loses his arm- it's killing me

(Also your art makes me wkndrurjrjfjrj)

Short answer, lack of medical supply lead to very bad infection to eventual amputation

Long answer, his arm was injured in the nightmare realm by one of bill’s henchmen, at the refugees place Ford borrowed some medical supplies to patch fidd up

The injury did not heal in fact it got worse and worse, when they got transferred to dimension 52, the lady who implanted the metal plate in ford’s head saw fidd’s injury and went “oh shit this one’s gonna die if I don’t do anything about it” the infection was bad enough that it almost rotted a hole in the arm

She surgically amputated fidd’s arm (above elbow) let him and ford stay through their recovery and send them away

(I dont know if it works timeline wise with canon but hey we’re not canon so I don’t care)

Ford and fidd’s relationship started to heal due to this incident actually, fidd losing an arm in front of him slapped ford back to reality and start reflecting all his wrong doings. There’s a lot more I want to say but I’ll save it for some future comics I’ve yapped too much already. This arm (or lack there of) is very important to their relationship and personal growth in the story.

I have some comics planned for Fidd’s recovery journey, him learning to gain more confidence and independence after this incident I think it would be very cool, I’ll see if I have time I would love to draw them

[hoshifighting]

— Synopsis: After a series of graffiti attacks on your bakery, you find out Jihoon is the vandal behind it, frustrated because your shop's success has outshone his grandma's bakery. — WC: 13k — WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, angst, smut, fluff, physical violence (reader hits jihoon with a mop, vandalism), jealousy, emotional conflict, fingering, blowjob, hair pulling, semi-public sex, cock riding, overwhelming, body fluids (cum), no protection, fetish elements—being painted with grafitty during sex, claiming, mention of an enormous cock on the bakery's wall.

Your arms are crossed in a tight clutch as you stare at the front door of the bakery, the black, fresh tags sprayed across the pastel walls like an ugly bruise. It’s the same crap, just a new day. The pink and white of your shop—the delicate aesthetic that drew people in—was constantly being smeared by some low-life with a spray can. Months of this, and all the cameras ever caught was a faceless guy in a black hoodie. Useless.

With a frustrated sigh, you unlock the door, pushing it open with more force than necessary. The day needed to start, vandalism or not. You open the windows, letting the fresh morning air in. At least the floors were clean, thanks to the obsessive mopping you’d done last night. That had become a habit lately, one of the few things you could control.

You grab a bowl, dumping the ingredients for cake batter in with a bit too much force. Your arm flexes as you whip the fouet through the mix, your irritation guiding every furious stroke. It’s therapeutic, in a way—until Mingyu walks in.

“Are you... trying to murder the batter?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice as he sets his stuff in the locker. “You’re about to crack the bowl in half.”

You glance up, still scowling, but the comment catches you off guard. “Shu’up, Mingyu. You would be mixing like this too if someone graffitied your walls for the hundredth time.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be so dramatic about it,” he teases, walking over to grab his apron. “It’s just a little paint. You act like the world’s ending.”

“It’s not just paint! It’s every day with this. And it’s not even good graffiti. It’s just some bullshit tags that don’t mean anything.”

Mingyu laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t know, some people might say you’re overthinking it. Maybe the artist is just misunderstood. Maybe there’s a deeper meaning.”

“‘Eat shit’ has no deeper meaning,” you deadpan, pushing the bowl to the side. “And I’ve got a cake due at 3 p.m. Can you please help me with the fondant? I need to leave on time for class.”

“Gastronomy waits for no one,” he quips, moving to help you.

You sigh, rubbing your forehead with the back of your hand. “Exactly. And if I’m late, I’m fucked. So let's get this done.”

Mingyu chuckles, but he gets to work, his hands already busy with rolling out the fondant. “You ever think of just... catching the guy yourself? Stake out the place or something?”

“Yeah, because that’s a great use of my time,” you mutter. “I’ve got school, work, and now this mystery asshole. Besides, what am I supposed to do? Sit outside all night and wait to get jumped?”

“Hey, you might scare him off with your mixing technique alone.”

You snort. “At this point, I’d rather beat him over the head with the bowl.”

— // NEXT DAY // —

You’re bent over the counter, carefully arranging the pies and cupcakes in the vitrine, when the bell above the door jingles. The sound makes you straighten up automatically, pasting on your best “welcome to my bakery” smile.

“Good morning! What can I get you today?” you ask, looking up to see Mrs. Yang, one of your more... particular customers. She smiles politely, her bag clutched in one hand, and takes her time approaching the counter.

“Good morning, dear,” she says, her voice too sweet for whatever she’s about to say next. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about... the situation outside.”

Here we go.

You nod, still smiling like your life depends on it. “Yes, we’ve been dealing with some, uh... graffiti issues lately.”

Her lips purse. “It’s quite the eyesore, don’t you think? Having that sort of thing on the storefront isn’t good for business, especially with such a nice bakery like yours. People might get the wrong impression. I wouldn’t want to bring my friends here if it continues.”

You feel Mingyu’s eyes on you from the back, wide and alarmed like he’s bracing himself for whatever smartass remark is about to leave your mouth. You can almost hear him holding his breath.

But instead of snapping, you swallow it down. Barely.

“I understand, Mrs. Yang. We’re working on getting it removed as soon as possible,” you say, your voice calm and professional, even though your brain is screaming, What the hell do you want me to do? Hand-paint the walls every night?

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll handle it,” she replies with a thin smile, “You always do such a lovely job here. I’ll have two of the lemon tarts, please.”

“Of course,” you say, grabbing the tarts and ringing her up, every muscle in your body tense as you try not to explode. “That’ll be $8.50.”

As she leaves, Mingyu sidles up behind you. “You alright? That looked painful.”

You shoot him a glare. “Shut up before I throw a tart at you.”

He just laughs. “Hey, props for not biting her head off. That’s growth.”

Your day only goes downhill from there.

An order comes in last-minute, right when you're about to head out for a cake delivery, forcing you to juggle too many tasks at once. The fondant on the cake cracks just as you’re trying to finish it, and you nearly drop the entire thing when you’re loading it into the car. By the time you deliver it, you're ten minutes late, and the client is tapping her foot like you ruined her wedding or something.

As you drive away, you notice that some idiot in the parking lot nicked the side of your car with their door. The scrape is fresh, ugly, and just another thing you don’t have time to deal with.

By the time you make it to the university, you’re on edge. Every little thing is pissing you off—the late delivery, the car, Mrs. Yang’s passive-aggressive comments replaying in your head.

You stomp into the classroom, tossing your bag on the desk as you take your seat. Your friend, Jiyeon, looks up from her notes, immediately catching the “I’m about to lose it” vibe radiating from you.

“Woah, woah... Don’t talk to me,” you say, waving her off before she even opens her mouth.

She raises her hands in mock surrender, exasperated. “Okay, okay, damn. I wasn’t even gonna say anything!”

From the corner of your eye, you catch the guy sitting next to you glancing over. He’s half-smirking, like he’s amused by your bad mood. You roll your eyes as you pull your utensils from your bag.

“The hell you lookin’ at?” you snap, not really in the mood for whatever attitude he’s giving you.

He just raises an eyebrow, unfazed. “Nothing. Chill.”

You huff, biting your tongue. “Whatever, man.”

As class starts, you try to focus on the lecture, but it feels like everything is stacking up, one annoying thing after another. You’re counting down the hours until you can get out of here and back to the bakery, where at least you can take your frustrations out on some dough.

[...]

The bakery is finally quiet. You’ve set the doughs to rest for tomorrow, turned off the colorful lights, and now it’s just you, the mop, and the hum of the radio. There’s something peaceful about the dark bakery—like it’s resting, too, after a long, chaotic day. The floor’s slick beneath the mop as you drag it in lazy strokes, the apron around your neck, always too tight, was finally off.

It’s quiet out there too. Rush hour’s over, people are strolling by in pretty scarves, leaving their cubicles for the day. Not that you’d ever want that life. That could never be you—this was your space, your bakery. You’d rather be here, mopping your own floors than stuck in some windowless office.

Even if your apron’s been digging into your neck all damn day. You rub at the sore spot, sighing, when—

Wait.

What the fuck? You squint, eyes narrowing as some guy steps right up to your bakery window, a paint can in hand. You watch in disbelief as he starts spraying. Right on your wall. Again.

You don’t even think. You just move. The front glass door slams open so hard the bell almost flies off, the aggressive clatter echoing behind you as you stomp out, mop still in hand.

“YA! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

The guy barely turns, but it’s too late. You’re already swinging. The wooden handle of your mop cracks across his back with a satisfying thud, and he lets out this startled grunt, almost tripping over his own feet. You swing again, harder this time, and it echoes across the empty street. Even the homeless guy across the road—the one you always give leftover tarts to—jumps in his spot, startled.

“What the fuck, you asshole! You think this is funny?!” you yell, swinging the mop at him again as he ducks, letting out an “ouch” with each hit. “You keep tagging my walls, and I’m the one paying for this shit! Do you even know how much it costs to get this cleaned? Huh?!”

“Ouch, fuck! Stop, STOP!” he stammers, arms up, trying to shield himself.

You don’t stop. You’re done with this day, done with this week, done with this punk-ass artist ruining your bakery’s vibe. “You piece of shit! You’re dead! I’m gonna shove this can so far up your—”

“What the hell?!” the guy stumbles, trying to dodge your swings, but you’re relentless.

“You think you can just waltz in and spray whatever dumb shit you want? You’re gonna clean this up with your tongue, you little—”

Before you can deliver another hit, the guy turns around, and his hood falls back. Your breath catches.

“Jihoon?!”

The guy grimaces, rubbing his back where you’ve practically beat the soul out of him, but it’s definitely him. The same Jihoon you snapped at in class today, the same Jihoon you barely tolerate during group projects. The fucker who’s been defacing your bakery.

You blink, still holding the mop in a death grip. “So it was you, you fucking idiot?! You’ve been doing this the whole time?!”

He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, still smirking like this is some kind of joke. “Well... I wouldn’t say the whole time.”

“You—” You jab the mop handle at him again, making him flinch. “You’re going to clean this up. I don’t care how. Hell, you can start with your tongue if you’re so attached to your damn art.”

“Woah, woah.” He holds his hands up in surrender, backing up a step. “I didn’t think you’d take it so personally. I mean, it’s just paint.”

“Just paint?” you repeat, incredulous. “I’ve had customers complain, the city’s sent me notices, and you’re out here calling it just paint? Are you fucking insane?”

“Come on, the tags aren’t that bad.”

“Oh, no. They’re shit. Like, the worst shit I’ve ever seen,” you bite out. 

You cross your arms, staring Jihoon down as he leans awkwardly against the wall. 

“You know what? I should call the police on you.”

His eyes go wide, his posture straightening instantly. “No, no, no! Come on, don’t do that!”

You slowly pull your phone from your back pocket, waving it in front of him as you point a finger at his chest. “I think it’s about time you get what’s coming to you.”

Panic flashes across his face, and he lunges forward, trying to grab your phone, but you thrust the mop at his chest, pressing it against him to keep him at bay. “Back off!”

He stumbles back, frowning, his lips jutting out in a sulk. “I don’t wanna go to jail! I don’t wanna sleep in the cold!” His feet stomp on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum, the whole thing looking ridiculous enough that anyone watching might think this was an opening scene from The Office.

You ignore his whining and start dialing, but he won’t shut up. “Please! You can’t let me go to jail over some paint!”

“You should’ve thought about that before tagging my bakery again.” You cut him off, giving him a pointed look. “Why the hell have you been doing this? And don’t think I didn’t notice the enormous dick spray-painted on the back of my shop either.”

Jihoon stays quiet for a moment, avoiding your eyes as he shifts on his feet. His hands fidget with the hem of his sweatshirt, and you narrow your eyes, sensing something off.

“Well? Spit it out,” you demand.

He mumbles something, so low you can barely hear. 

You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What?”

His face goes red, and he mutters again, “Only if... you let me try one of your tarts.”

You blink, leaning in closer. “What was that? Speak up, punk.”

Jihoon sighs, cheeks practically glowing. “I said... I want to try one of your tarts, okay?!”

For a second, you just stare at him, completely dumbfounded. Then, you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you serious right now?”

He nods, keeping his head down, looking smaller and more pathetic than you ever imagined he could.

“You’re telling me... you come here, paint my walls like a little delinquent, and now you want a fucking tart? You—”

You breathe in, trying to summon every ounce of patience you have left. The tarts are your best sellers—the buttery crust, fresh fruit, and creamy filling that made your bakery famous not just in the neighborhood but all over town. People raved about them, coming from across the city just to get their hands on one. Hell, students from your college made regular stops just to bring some back to class.

Your shoulders sag in exasperation, but you eventually gesture toward the door. “Fine. Get inside.”

Jihoon looks up, surprised but not daring to push his luck. You flip the lights back on, the bakery coming to life once more. Heading to the back, you grab a fresh tart from the display, muttering curses under your breath as you shout, “Which one do you want?”

“Strawberry!” he calls out.

You grab a pink plate and set the tart delicately in the center, placing it on the counter with one of your signature gold-colored forks and a neatly folded napkin. When you walk over to the table Jihoon picked, nestled in a corner, you notice him glancing around the bakery with a curious expression, taking in the space like he’s never seen it properly before.

He sits down, eyeing the tart suspiciously at first. You cross your arms and sit across from him, your foot bouncing impatiently under the table. You can’t help but suppress an inner smile—every customer had the same reaction to their first bite, and you’re secretly waiting for it.

Jihoon picks up the fork, hesitantly cutting into the tart. As soon as the buttery crust gives way, the scent of fresh strawberries and sweet cream fills the air. He takes a bite, and his eyes widen almost immediately. He chews slowly, like he’s processing the taste, his expression changing from sulky to... amazed.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs under his breath, glancing up at you, eyes wide. “This is... really good.”

You lean back, crossing your arms tighter. “Yeah. That’s what people keep saying.”

He takes another bite, and then another, clearly trying not to devour the whole thing in two seconds. His face softens, the usual smugness gone, replaced by genuine awe. He looks around the bakery again, understanding slowly sinking in. The care you put into every detail—the soft lighting, the warmth, the way the scent of fresh-baked goods fills the air. It’s no wonder other bakeries in the area couldn’t compete.

No wonder people kept coming back.

Jihoon finally looks up, sheepish but impressed. 

You shift in your seat, arms still crossed, and stare at Jihoon as he wipes his mouth with the napkin, setting it down with a quiet sigh. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his posture heavy with something unsaid.

“So… you gonna tell me why you’ve been punking my bakery?” you ask, your voice less biting than before, though the edge is still there.

Jihoon hesitates, glancing out the window for a moment like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he sighs again. “We had a bakery, me and my grandma. It was right across the street.”

You frown, your head tilting slightly as you turn to glance outside through the window. Yeah, you remembered that place. It had that old-school charm, the kind of bakery that felt like a cozy throwback to the 60s, with its wooden benches and rustic signage. It had been there before you moved into the neighborhood. You even remembered the old lady that used to work there, always with a smile, though her hands were slow and her voice even slower. The front of the bakery had been boarded up for months now, closed and forgotten by most.

Jihoon continues, his voice lower. “Before you opened up, we did well. My grandma’s tarts were, like, the thing around here. People came from all over to buy them.” He pauses, and you see his shoulders drop slightly. “But after your tarts took off… we started losing customers. A lot of them.”

You don’t say anything, but the tension in the air thickens. You swallow, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable weight in your chest. You remember seeing them sitting outside their shop, the once-busy bakery now quiet as yours boomed with success.

“We tried to keep up,” Jihoon says, his voice a little shaky. “But no one came in anymore. People stopped buying our stuff. My grandma and I used to just sit there on the bench, watching people line up outside your place while we were lucky to sell a couple tarts.” He laughs, but it’s hollow, like he’s mocking the memory. “She’d pretend it didn’t bother her, but I knew. I knew it killed her inside.”

You feel a knot form in your stomach, guilt creeping in even though you know it wasn’t really your fault. Still, hearing it from him, the weight of their loss, makes you look down at the table, feeling suddenly small.

“What was I supposed to do?” you ask softly, the words barely escaping your mouth. “This was my dream too.”

Jihoon nods, almost like he understands, though there’s still bitterness in his tone. “I know. And it’s not like you did anything wrong. Your bakery is… well, people love it. They loved your tarts. And I guess, after a while, I just got so… mad.”

He looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. “We had to close the bakery. We couldn’t keep up. And I started working in the city, doing graffiti, whatever I could to make ends meet.” He shakes his head, laughing without humor again. “And when I saw people still lining up here, day after day, it just… pissed me off. So I started tagging your walls. Stupid, I know.”

You feel a lump in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. You glance back out the window, seeing the boarded-up bakery in the distance, and it stirs something deep inside. His frustration, his anger… it all makes sense now.

“I didn’t understand,” Jihoon says, his voice softer now, almost defeated. “I couldn’t figure out how your tarts were better than my grandma’s. It didn’t make sense to me. We’d been here for years. How could people just forget about us?” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression sad. “But now I get it. I guess… your tarts really are better.”

The way he says it, with that empty laugh, hits you right in the chest. There’s no joy in his voice, no real acceptance, just this sad realization that his family’s legacy had been outdone by you.

You lower your gaze, feeling awful. “Jihoon…” You want to say something, anything, to ease the guilt gnawing at you, but what could you even say? You worked hard for this. It wasn’t like you meant to destroy his bakery. But it’s clear now that, in a way, you did.

“I never meant for this to happen,” you mumble, your voice quieter than you intended. “It’s not like I wanted to take business away from you guys.”

He waves it off, but his eyes don’t meet yours. “I know. It’s just how it worked out. You did what you had to do. I just… I didn’t know what else to do but get mad at you for it.”

The silence between you is thick, heavy with unsaid things. Jihoon keeps his gaze on the table, his fingers playing with the edges of the napkin, while you try to process the weight of everything he just said.

And as much as you want to feel justified—after all, you didn’t do anything wrong—there’s a part of you that can’t shake the sadness settling deep in your chest. You glance out the window again, at the closed shop across the street, and for the first time, you wonder what it must’ve been like for them, watching your bakery rise while theirs fell apart.

Jihoon’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I don’t know… it’s dumb. You didn’t mean to screw us over. I just… I just miss the way things used to be.”

You breathe in deeply, trying to push down the growing lump in your throat. 

The silence between you two lingers, stretching out like the stillness of the night outside. You can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator behind the counter, the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall. You breathe in, thinking of something to say, and for a moment, Jihoon glances up at you, expectant. But when you close your mouth again, he looks away, fingers fidgeting with the napkin.

Finally, you place your hand on the wooden table between you, the sound of your fingers brushing the grain breaking the silence. "What kind of tarts did your grandma sell?" you ask, voice steady but curious.

Jihoon frowns, clearly taken off guard by the question. "Savory ones," he says after a beat, as if testing the waters of the conversation.

Your brow lifts in surprise. Savory tarts weren’t really your thing—you specialized in the sweet stuff. "Savory?" you lean in a bit, curiosity piqued. "Like what?"

Jihoon seems to hesitate, unsure of where you’re going with this, but then he starts listing them off, voice soft at first but growing stronger. "Palm heart or olives, ham, and cheese, sometimes we’d do quiches with bacon and caramelized onions, even some seasonal ones with pumpkin or sweet potato… Stuff like that."

You sit back, letting the list of flavors settle in your mind, gears turning. You’d never considered offering savory tarts before—your bakery was known for its sweets. But maybe that was part of the problem. There was a whole side of the tart game you hadn’t even touched.

"You think you could make some of those flavors and bring them tomorrow?" you ask, your tone casual as you rest your chin in your hand.

Jihoon frowns deeper, confused, his head tilting to the side. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

You chew your lip for a second, glancing around your bakery, imagining it filled with the rich, hearty smells of savory tarts instead of the usual sugar and cream. "I was thinking maybe we could try something… an experiment," you say, eyes lighting up as you lean forward. "You bring the savory ones, I’ll sell them in the display, right alongside the sweet ones. See how people like them."

Jihoon blinks at you, processing your words, and for a moment, you see a flicker of disbelief in his eyes, like he can’t quite wrap his head around what you’re suggesting. "You… you wanna sell my grandma’s tarts here?"

You nod, the idea already snowballing in your mind. "Yeah, why not? People around here are crazy for the sweets, but maybe they’ve just never had the chance to try something savory. And you know I don’t do that kind of thing, so… it’d be different." You pause, watching his face, which is slowly starting to shift from confusion to something brighter. "We’ll call it a collab or something. Give them a taste of what your bakery used to offer."

His eyes light up, sparkling with excitement as the idea sinks in. The hesitation that was there before vanishes, replaced with genuine enthusiasm. "Really?" He leans forward, hands gripping the edge of the table. "You think… people would like them?"

"If they’re as good as you say they are," you grin, tapping your fingers on the table, "then yeah, I think they will."

Jihoon’s face softens, and for the first time tonight, a real smile spreads across his lips. It’s small at first, but there’s something genuine and almost childlike about it, like you just handed him a lifeline he wasn’t expecting. "They’re really, really good," he says earnestly, nodding. "My grandma used to get people coming back for them all the time. They were, like, her specialty."

"Then bring enough for tomorrow," you say, feeling a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite yourself. "We’ll put them out, see what happens. Maybe it’ll bring some of her old customers back."

He looks at you like you’ve just flipped the entire script on him. The guy who’d been tagging your bakery out of spite now suddenly has a shot at redemption, and it’s written all over his face. You can see the wheels turning in his head, his excitement barely contained.

"How many do you need?" he asks, voice filled with an eagerness you hadn’t seen in him before.

You pause, thinking for a second. "Start small—maybe a couple dozen to test the waters. If they sell out, we’ll know we’re onto something."

Jihoon nods rapidly, his excitement bubbling over. "I can do that. I can bring, like, the spinach and feta ones. Those were super popular. And maybe the mushroom ones too. People loved those." He’s rambling now, his hands gesturing wildly as he talks. "You think they’ll like them? I mean, people around here are kinda obsessed with sweet stuff, but these… these are different."

You laugh softly, watching him get more and more animated. "I think if they’re as good as you say, people are gonna be lining up for them. And who knows? Maybe savory tarts will be the next big thing."

Jihoon sits back, grinning like he can’t believe this is real. "I can’t believe you’re actually doing this." His eyes flicker over the bakery, taking in the pink and white décor, the polished countertops, the faint smell of sugar still lingering in the air. "I thought you’d just tell me to fuck off, honestly."

You shrug, smiling slightly. "Well, I did wanna hit you with a mop earlier. But… I don’t know. It seems like the least I can do after everything."

He stares at you, his grin softening into something more serious, more genuine. "Thanks," he says quietly, and you can tell that he means it. "I… I really judged you wrong."

You wave him off, but inside, there’s a warmth spreading, something that feels almost like… relief? Like maybe this little experiment could be more than just business—it could be a way to right some wrongs.

"Just bring your best game tomorrow," you say, standing up from the table. "If your grandma’s tarts are half as good as you say, I’m sure people will love them."

Jihoon stands too, still grinning like a kid on Christmas. "Oh, they will. Trust me." His eyes sparkle with that confidence again, and for the first time, it feels like you’re seeing the real him, not the guy who’s been tagging your bakery out of anger.

As you walk him to the door, you glance back at the kitchen, already imagining the savory tarts lining the shelves next to your usual sweets. This could be something big, something new—something that might even help mend the bridge between you two.

Jihoon pauses at the door, turning back to you with a grin. "Tomorrow, then. You won’t regret this."

The next morning, Jihoon arrives at your bakery with a box, the warmth of the tarts and quiches radiating from inside. You grin as you lift the lid, the smellof the buttery crust wafting out. Carefully, you place them in the display, arranging them neatly beside your sweets.

Jihoon moves towards the door without saying a word, but before he can leave, you raise your voice, “Where are you going?”

He pauses and steps back in, bending down to pick up a bucket of paint remover and a brush from outside. “Gonna get rid of the mess,” he says with a shrug, shaking the supplies in his hand.

You scoff, leaning against the counter. “Looks like hitting you with the mop actually worked.” You raise an eyebrow, arms crossed.

He freezes, his eyes widening a little, like he just remembered something. “Hey! You!” he protests, gesturing to his back. “I’m my back its black and blue thanks to you! My back its ruined.”

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Serves you right,” you shoot back, and Jihoon huffs, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes as he heads outside to scrub off the tags.

As the morning rush starts, a couple of your regulars approach the counter, eyeing the new items. One of them, Mrs. Park, furrows her brow. "What’s all this?" she asks, nodding to the savory tarts.

You flash her a smile, "We’re doing a little collab with Jihoon’s family bakery. They used to sell these savory tarts, and we thought we'd give them a try here. You should taste them, they’re amazing."

Mrs. Park raises an eyebrow but picks up one of the tarts anyway. Within minutes, word spreads, and before you know it, the dozen savory tarts you put out are gone—people even leaving with extras for home. You lean against the counter, watching the buzz, satisfaction building in your chest.

As the rush dies down, you step outside where Jihoon is wiping down the wall, now tag-free. You smirk. "Sold everything," you say, watching his reaction.

His eyebrows shoot up, eyes wide. “Really?!”

You nod. “Yeah, they went faster than I thought. Even Mingyu couldn’t keep his hands off them,” you say, pointing through the window where Mingyu is, mid-bite, munching happily on a tart behind the counter.

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he looks at Mingyu, then back at you. "I’ve got more ready at my grandma’s place. I can go grab them now."

"Do it," you say with a grin, waving him off. “Bring a lot. I don’t think these’ll last long.”

An hour later, Jihoon returns, but this time he’s not alone. His grandma, the sweet old lady you remember from the bakery across the street, is with him. You light up when you see her.

"Mrs. Lee!" you greet her warmly. 

She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she gives you a gentle hug. "You’ve done so well with this place," she says, looking around the bakery.

As you help unload the box of fresh tarts, you see Mingyu’s eyes widen as he watches you set them out again, his mouth practically watering. He reaches for one, but you swat his hand away.

"Those are to sell," you scold playfully, but before you can follow up, Mrs. Lee reaches up and pats Mingyu on the head.

"Eat, eat, you’re a big boy. You need it," she says, and Mingyu, towering over her, grins sheepishly as he lowers his head.

"Yes, ma’am," he says with a boyish smile, clearly charmed.

With the tarts restocked, the afternoon turns out to be just as busy as the morning. People are coming in and out, curious about the new savory options, and before you know it, they’re sold out again.

After the rush dies down and the shift ends, you pull out the cash notes, counting how much you’ve made for the day. You walk over to Jihoon, handing him a stack of money.

"Here, this is how much we sold, minus the cost of ingredients," you say, but Jihoon waves his hand, shaking his head.

"Nah, don’t do that," he says, clearly uncomfortable. "It’s your bakery. I’m just helping out."

You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms. "You think I’m not gonna pay you for your grandma’s recipes? Don’t be stupid."

He fidgets, glancing down. “I don’t deserve it,” he mumbles, but you cut him off.

"Come on. You think of reopening your grandma’s bakery again?"

He hesitates, then nods slowly. "I’ve been thinking about it. But there’s a lot to clean up, fix…"

You lean back, thinking for a moment. “Well, while you figure it out, how about you use my bakery to sell your savory stuff? We can split the profits and see how it goes. Maybe that way, you’ll get enough to fix it.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen, gratitude spreading across his face. "You… you’d let me do that?"

You shrug. "Why not? People love your stuff, and I’ve got space. Plus, this way, we both win."

His lips part, disbelief still etched on his face, but then his shoulders relax, and a small smile forms. "I don’t know what to say. Thank you."

"Don’t thank me yet," you say, grinning. "We still gotta get through tomorrow."

He laughs, the tension that had been hanging between you since the whole graffiti incident finally easing. "I guess I’ll be back here early with more tarts, then."

"Bright and early," you reply, with a playful nod. "And don’t forget to bring your grandma too. Mingyu might cry if she doesn’t show up."

Jihoon chuckles, glancing at Mingyu who’s in the back, still wiping tart crumbs from his face. "I think you’re right about that."

As Jihoon and his grandma leave, you’re left standing in your bakery, the warm glow of the lights reflecting off the now pristine windows. 

The next morning, Jihoon shows up right on time, his grandma’s small hand wrapped around his arm as they step into the bakery. There’s something heartwarming about the sight—the way she leans on him, and how he effortlessly balances the heavy box of tarts in his other hand. You catch a glimpse of the pure affection between them, the kind only grandparents seem to have for their grandkids, and it makes you feel... softer.

Jihoon flashes you a quick, almost shy smile as he sets the box on the counter, the warmth of the freshly baked tarts instantly filling the room. You move to help him, opening the glass case of the vitrine. As you lean in to arrange the tarts, his arm brushes against yours, just barely. It’s nothing, really—just a quick touch—but you bite back a smile anyway. The warmth of it, the quiet ease, feels nice. Comfortable.

Outside, the rain begins to pour, pattering against the windows. It's not the gloomy kind of rain, though—it’s the kind that makes people crave warm spaces, a place to settle into with a coffee in hand. Your bakery, with its soft yellow lighting and the sweet smell of tarts mingling in the air, feels like the perfect refuge. You can already see a few people huddling under umbrellas as they make their way inside, the little bell above the door chiming each time.

Jihoon steps back, his eyes following yours as you arrange the tarts in perfect rows. “Looks good,” he murmurs, glancing over at you.

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to sound casual, though your voice is a bit quieter than usual. You clear your throat. “Rain’s gonna bring people in. They’ll want something warm.”

Almost as if on cue, the door swings open with a gust of wet air, and your best friend stumbles inside, panting, her umbrella flung into the holder by the door. She shakes the rain off her coat and makes a beeline for the counter, eyes wide.

“I heard you’re selling savory tarts now,” she exclaims, nearly breathless.

You shoot her a look, half-amused. “Word spreads fast around here, hm?”

She leans on the counter, eyes scanning the new additions in the vitrine like she’s sizing them up. “You know me. I’ve got my ear to the ground,” she says, grinning. Her gaze shifts to Jihoon, who’s still standing behind you. “And you,” she says, her tone turning teasing, “finally decided to be useful, huh?”

Jihoon just rolls his eyes, but you can see a flicker of amusement there. “I’m useful in ways you don’t even know,” he mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, but it makes you smirk.

Your friend raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure,” she quips, pulling out her wallet. “Alright, give me one of those tarts. Let’s see if they’re worth the hype.”

You grab a tart—spinach and cheese, her favorite—and hand it to her on a small plate. She takes one bite, her eyes widening dramatically. “Oh my god,” she says, mouth half full. “Okay, this… this is dangerous. You can’t sell these, I’ll be here every day.”

You laugh, watching her devour the tart. Jihoon leans against the counter next to you, arms crossed, a little smug. “Told you they were good,” he murmurs.

The steady rain outside only adds to the cozy vibe, making the bakery feel like a warm little haven. More customers trickle in, shaking off their umbrellas and ordering coffees to go with the new savory tarts. Some regulars ask about the new addition, and you tell them about the collaboration with Jihoon and his grandma. It’s casual, like you’re letting them in on a little secret, and soon enough, people are lining up to try them.

As you work, you can feel Jihoon’s presence behind you, quietly helping out where he can—refilling the display, wiping down tables, clearing plates. It’s kind of funny, actually. Not long ago, this same guy was spray-painting the walls of your bakery like a punk, and now here he is, setting tarts in your vitrine, his arm brushing against yours, acting like part of the team.

Your friend finishes her tart and slides the plate back toward you, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Okay, I gotta go before I eat the whole case,” she says, shooting you a wink. She glances at Jihoon as she grabs her umbrella. “You better keep bringing these, or we’ll have problems.”

Jihoon smirks, giving her a mock salute. “I’ll keep ‘em coming.”

As she leaves, you watch the bakery fill with warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of conversations. The rain taps against the windows, the outside world grey and wet, while the inside is alive with comfort. You lean against the counter, watching Jihoon’s grandma chatting with a customer. It’s kind of perfect, in a way—everything just falling into place.

After the lunch rush, Jihoon catches your eye, his expression a little sheepish. "They’re really selling, huh?"

You smile, a little proud. "Yeah. Told you they’d be a hit."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Guess I underestimated this place."

“It’s kinda nice having you around... even if you are a pain in the ass.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes but not disagreeing. “You just like bossing me around.”

“I do,” you admit with a grin. “And you’re getting pretty good at following orders.”

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he picks up a rag to wipe down the counter. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll bring more tomorrow."

The evening was quiet, just the hum of the fridge and the faint swoosh of the mop gliding across the floor. You were halfway through cleaning when your foot nudged something under the counter. Frowning, you crouched down and pulled out a box—heavy, clinking inside—and when you opened it, there they were. Paint cans.

You tilted your head, staring at them, then shouted, "Jihoon! What the hell is this?"

He popped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Uh... well, I was thinking... maybe the bakery could use a little—art,” he said hesitantly, his eyes darting from the cans to you.

"Art?" you raised an eyebrow, hands resting on your hips. "You're not gonna draw a dick on the front door, are you? 'Cause if that's your plan, Jihoon, I swear—"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No! It wasn’t me, alright? That was one of my friends.”

Your eyebrow shot up even higher. "So you had your friends tag my bakery too?"

He suppressed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I yelled sorry, like, a million times already.”

You shook your head, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Unbelievable.”

Jihoon stepped closer, eyes scanning your expression carefully. “Look, I promise—no dicks. I was thinking... something different. Something that matches the vibe here. I could paint something... that looks like you.” His gaze lingered on you, analyzing your features like he was already sketching you out in his mind.

You sat back, considering it. The idea of graffiti on your pristine bakery wasn’t exactly appealing, but there was something about Jihoon’s offer... the way he was looking at you, not like a cocky vandal but like someone who wanted to create something for you.

You frowned, arms crossed, skeptical. “You? Graffiti something that looks like me? You’re kidding.”

He shrugged, stepping back slightly. “Let me show you. I’ll do it on the back wall. Something pastel, something sweet—like your bakery.”

You huffed, but curiosity got the better of you. “Fine. But if it looks like shit, you’re cleaning it up, Jihoon.”

Outside, the air was crisp, and the dim lights of the street barely reached the back alley behind your bakery. Jihoon grabbed the cans, setting them down with a focused energy, his jaw tight. He was different when he worked on something—serious, quiet. You watched as he started to shake one of the cans, the metallic rattle filling the space. 

He started to sweat after a few strokes of the spray, his arm flexing each time he pressed the nozzle. The light from the back door illuminated his face, and when he flicked his hair to the side, it reminded you of those boys from high school, the ones who all had that Justin Bieber haircut. You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

He stepped back, turning toward you, his eyes searching your face. “So... what do you think?”

You tilted your head, focusing on the paint. It was a pastel-colored slice of cake, detailed with delicate swirls and shadows that made it look almost real. “The... strawberry looks a little weird,” you pointed out, walking closer.

Jihoon let out a soft laugh, stepping aside. “Come help me then. You fix it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Me? I don’t know how to spray paint, Jihoon. It’s gonna look like a five-year-old did it."

He waved it off, walking toward you with the can in hand. “Nah, you can do it. C’mere.”

Before you could protest, he was already pulling you out of the chair, placing the can in your hand. “Just like this,” he murmured, stepping behind you. His chest pressed lightly against your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your ear. His hand moved to yours, guiding your fingers to press down on the nozzle, and the paint sprayed out in a clean line. "Here," he murmured, his voice low. "Press gently... just like that."

“See?” he whispered, his voice right in your ear, and you could feel the concentration in his breath, how calm it was. “Not so hard, is it?”

You were too aware of everything—his breath, his hand on yours, the way his body pressed just slightly against yours, not enough to feel too much, but enough to make your pulse pick up.

His hand, now on your waist, gave you the faintest squeeze, right where your skin showed between your top and your jeans, right where your shirt had ridden up a little. It was an absent touch, almost like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. But you did. His fingers were warm, the pressure light but there. Your breath caught in your throat for a second.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. His hand never moved, just stayed resting on your waist, a quiet but steady reminder of how close he was. The paint kept flowing, and you realized you were barely focused on the mural anymore. It was all Jihoon. The way his body moved with yours, the brush of his breath against your ear.

“Jihoon,” you whispered, voice low, just to see what kind of reaction you’d get. "You sure you're not just getting handsy with me to avoid doing the work?"

He huffed a small laugh, right in your ear, his breath warm. “You think this is me being handsy? I’m just trying to teach you something.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back a little more, just enough to feel him tense up. His hips were snug against yours, and you could feel the smallest reaction in his body, the way his chest rose sharply as you pressed back into him.

"Uh-huh,” you said, feigning innocence. “So that’s why you sound like you’re having the best time of your life right now? Not exactly subtle, Jihoon.”

He scoffed, his mouth so close to your ear that you flinched a bit. "Says the one who's shivering under my arm like I’m doing more than just helping you paint.”

You let out a soft chuckle, your head leaning back just a little, the movement making his face brush against your shoulder. You could feel his breath catch again as your body pressed back.

“Jihoon…” you said, voice dropping an octave. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying real hard not to moan in my ear.”

His breath hitched, and this time, you felt it. His body tensed, the can in his hand wavering slightly as he pressed the nozzle. He was trying—trying so damn hard to stay focused on the paint, but your words were getting to him. His grip tightened on the can.

He lowered your arm, stopping the spray of paint, and you could feel the tension crackling between you both. His hand lingered on yours for a moment, and then he turned his head slightly, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw as he whispered, “You keep teasing me like that, I’ll forget the painting and pin you to this wall.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the low rumble in his voice, letting your ass push against him again. You give him a slow, teasing smile, turning your head just enough to look at him out of the corner of your eye. “And if I told you I wouldn’t mind?”

Jihoon’s eyes flicked down to your lips, then back to your eyes, in a blink, he turned you around, the paint can clattering to the floor as his hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

His lips hovered over yours for just a second, his breath mingling with yours, tension thick in the air. “You're playing with fire, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You smirked, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the heat of him through his shirt. “Then burn me.”

His lips crashed against yours in a starved kiss, his hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pressed so close it felt like there wasn’t an inch between you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him down harder into the kiss, feeling the tension melt away from his shoulders. His hands roamed over your back, slipping under your shirt, his touch burning your skin as he kissed you deeper, rougher, like he couldn’t get enough. 

His body pressed you against the wall, his hips fitting perfectly against yours, and you could feel his cock coming to life. The slight tremor in his hands as they roamed your sides, the way his breath hitched when you kissed him harder—it was all there, barely restrained.

His lips were warm, tasting faintly like the strawberries and honey from earlier, and every time you tried to pull back for air, he chased you, his lips crashing back against yours like he couldn’t stand the space between you for even a second. 

Finally, when you both pulled away for breath, your foreheads resting together, you smirked, your breath still uneven. “You okay there, Jihoon? You look like you’re about to lose it.”

He chuckled, his hand still gripping your waist, but there was no humor in his eyes. “You talk too much,” he muttered, pulling you back in for another kiss before you could even think of another comeback.

You could feel the wetness of his tongue against yours, slick with saliva that started to pool at the corners of your mouth as you sucked it in deeper. Jihoon’s hand was firm, gripping the curve of your ass, his other arm wrapped tight around your waist as if he couldn’t let go even if he tried.

You stumbled backward in a tangle of steps, the two of you moving like you were magnetized to each other, lips fused together, completely unwilling to separate. His hand squeezed your ass hard, making you gasp into his mouth. That sound—the desperate little moan you couldn’t hold back—had him groaning too, swallowing the noise like it fueled him, pressing you harder against the door to the back of the store.

Jihoon fumbled for the handle, blindly opening it while keeping his mouth glued to yours. You barely noticed when he shoved you through the threshold, into the bakery’s quiet salon. He didn’t break the kiss, not even for a second, not until your back hit the counter and he pressed himself against you again, trapping you between him and the cold wood.

You were breathless, desperate to kiss him harder, to get more of those sweet, low moans he made when your lips connected just right. It wasn’t until you felt his hand slipping between you that you realized what he was doing. Somehow, in the heat of it all, he had already undone your jeans, his fingers deftly sliding the button free, his hand dipping lower, teasing the waistband of your panties.

"Fuck, Jihoon," you panted, head thrown back as his lips trailed along your jaw. You shivered when you felt his hand slipping under the lace, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin. You felt your sink boiling, the warm air from the bakery making you sweat down your neck. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, more like moaning. 

The jeans you still had on were tight, too tight, and it made it impossible for you to spread your legs the way you wanted. The friction of his hand between you was good, but not nearly enough.

You shifted against him, trying to spread your legs wider, your breath coming out in frustrated little pants. "Jihoon," you managed, voice almost pleading, "jeans... get them off."

His lips curled into a smug grin against your skin, and you could feel him smirk before he pulled back slightly. "So bossy," he murmured, but he didn’t hesitate. His hands went straight to your jeans, tugging them down with quick, rough movements, the denim catching awkwardly on your thighs before he yanked them free.

With your jeans finally gone, he spread your legs wide, his eyes dark and hungry as they trailed over you. His hands gripped your thighs, positioning you exactly how he wanted before slipping his fingers right back under the waistband of your panties, but this time, there was no hesitation.

He slid one finger through your slick folds, groaning low when he felt how wet you were for him. "God, you're soaked," he breathed, almost like he was in disbelief. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles that had your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more.

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips. "Just... please, Jihoon—more."

He slid a finger inside you, the sensation making you gasp, your legs instinctively spreading wider for him. You wanted more of him, needed it, and when he curled his finger just right—not even forcing it, he felt the spongy spot, you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat.

"Like that?" he whispered, voice hoarse as he added another finger, filling you up and making your whole body arch into him. His other hand gripped your thigh, holding you steady as he worked his fingers inside you, each thrust deeper, more insistent.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, barely able to form words as he sped up, his thumb still rubbing circles over your clit, making you see fireballs with closed eyes. "Just... just like that."

His hand moved faster, fingers curling and stroking deep inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the quiet room. Your hips bucked against him, chasing the sensation, wanting him to take you higher, needing him to push you over the edge.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, "I could do this all night... but I think you want me to make you come, don’t you?"

You whimpered. "Please, Jihoon," you breathed, voice shaky. "I need it."

His fingers quickened their pace, thrusting deep, hitting that spot over and over until your whole body trembled. He could feel how close you were, could see it in the way your thighs quivered, the way your breath came in short, desperate gasps.

"Cum for me," he murmured, thumb pressing harder against your clit, feeling the nerve throb as his fingers worked inside you. "Cum all over my fingers."

You rest your elbow on the counter, arching your back in a way that makes the slick sound between your thighs almost obscene. It’s impossible to ignore. You know exactly how wet you are, and palm, right there pressing down the mound of your pussy—god, you can feel it, burning hot. Your breath hitches, and you throw a hazy glance in his direction, catching his smirk, that cocky look on his face. His lip is trapped between his teeth, eyes dark and full of heat, and that’s all it takes before you come apart.

Your orgasm hits hard, ripping through you. Eyes squeezing shut, your body tenses, thighs trembling as your hips jerk involuntarily against his hand. You hear him coaxing you through it, his voice a low murmur, his fingers keeping steady pressure, coaxing every last wave of pleasure out of you.

“There you go… good fuckin' girl. Just like that, keep comin’ for me… shit, so fuckin’ good,” he mutters, fingers slowing just enough to keep you riding the high.

Your chest heaves, your breaths coming in short, ragged bursts as you slowly open your eyes again. He’s staring at you—taking in every inch of you. The smirk on his face hasn't faltered, only deepened. There’s something dangerous about the way he looks at you, like he's already planning his next move.

“You think you can turn around for me?” he asks.

You shake your head, still catching your breath, but a wicked grin spreads on your lips. “Nah. I’ll fall to my knees and suck you off instead.” Your voice is steady despite the way your legs still tremble. His eyes widen just for a second before he sharpens a breath, a harsh inhale that lets you know you’ve hit the right nerve.

You don’t give him time to respond before you’re on your knees, fingers already undoing his belt, pulling his jeans down just enough to free him. You look up through your lashes, watching his jaw tighten as his cock springs free, already hard and leaking at the tip. His breathing’s heavy, uneven.

You run your tongue along his length slowly, collecting the sticky precum, teasing the underside before wrapping your lips around the head. He moans immediately, one hand gripping the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles turn white.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking forward as your lips slide further down his cock. The sound he makes is a whiny moan, almost of frustration as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. You can feel the pulse of him on your tongue, the way his body reacts to every little move you make.

He grips your hair, tugging gently as you bob your head, setting a slow rhythm that has him panting. His hips start to move, barely restrained, thrusting shallowly into your mouth. “Goddamn… ngh—fuck! From hittin’ me with a mop to this?” His voice cracks on a laugh, but it’s breathless, shaky. “Didn’t think you’d… suck me off like this…”

You pull back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, lips slick, before looking up at him, smirking. “Better than the mop, right?”

His laugh turns into a groan, the sound vibrating through his chest as you take him deep again. “Fuck yeah… way better than the fuckin' mop.” He’s losing his composure now, hips moving a little more desperately, the hand in your hair tightening, guiding you as you work him harder, faster.

His moans grow louder, less restrained, and you can feel the tension building in his body, the way his muscles tighten as he gets closer. You hollow your cheeks one last time, sucking him in deeper, tongue working every inch of him until you hear him curse under his breath, his head falling back as his body shudders.

“Shit—” His moan is drawn out, almost too much for him to handle, as he loses himself in your mouth, his hips bucking forward uncontrollably. You keep going, pushing him right to the edge, savoring every last sound he makes until he finally pulls you off, breathless and wrecked.

“Fuck... you’re gonna kill me with that pretty mouth,” he pants, grinning down at you, still catching his breath. 

You pull back for a second, lips slick with spit, catching your breath before you go back in, this time with a wicked grin. His cock twitches in your hand as you stroke him slowly, teasing, just enough to keep him on the edge.

“So…” you start, voice low, looking up at him with a dangerous gleam in your eyes. “How are you gonna fuck me, huh? Gonna be good to me, or…” You drag your tongue along the underside of his shaft, making him gasp before taking him back into your mouth, sucking harder, wanting to hear him stutter. “… or you gonna fuck me like you mean it?”

His breath hitches, and he swears under his breath. “I—fuck, I—” His hips jerking toward your mouth, but he’s not quite there. The pressure is building, you can feel it, the way his muscles tense, the way his grip in your hair tightens.

But before you can push him too far, he suddenly pulls you off with a gasp, his cock red and leaking at the tip, his body shaking from the almost-orgasm. “Stop, stop, fuck—”

You raise an eyebrow, lips swollen as you sit back on your heels, panting, teasing. “Could’ve just let me finish you off,” you murmur, licking your lips slowly as you watch him struggle to catch his breath.

He grins, though his expression is tight, like he’s holding onto control by a thread. “Not gonna let you win that easy,” he mutters. He helps you up, hands firm but delicate as he lifts you to your feet. Your knees wobble a little from the discomfort of kneeling on the hard wooden floor, and he notices, his thumb brushing gently across the soft skin.

“They hurt?” he asks, glancing down at your knees, frowning just a little.

You shake your head, smirking. “I’ll live. But you owe me a good fuck for that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna make it up to you.”

You let him guide you back against the counter, his hands already sliding down to the waistband of your panties, hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling them down tossing it on the floor. He pauses just for a second, eyes flicking between your bare pussy and your face, his breathing heavy.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Gonna make you scream.”

You shiver, feeling his cock press against your thigh as his hands move to grip your waist. His fingers are rough, impatient. You can barely think straight when he turns you around, pushing your chest flat against the cold countertop. The contrast of the cool surface and his hot skin makes your breath hitch, your body already aching for him.

He groans softly, positioning himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock, rubbing it along your slick folds as you grind back against him, impatient.

“Fuck—please, just—” You barely get the words out before he thrusts into you, filling you up completely in one swift movement. The stretch is intense, but it’s exactly what you needed, the delicious burn making you gasp as your fingers dig into the counter.

He groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls back and thrusts again, setting a relentless pace. “That good enough for you, hm?”

You can barely answer, the only sounds leaving your lips are desperate moans as he fucks into you, hard and fast, just like he promised. “F-fuck, Jihoon… yes—just like that.”

He leans down, his chest pressing against your back as his lips brush your ear. “You feel so fuckin’ good… so tight, fuck.” 

Your body trembles under his, the pleasure building so quickly that you can barely keep up. "Jihoon—" His name leaves your lips in a broken moan as you start to lose control.

Your breath is ragged, chest heaving as you lick your fingers, letting them trail down your slick body. The moment your fingers find your clit, Jihoon freezes. His cock still buried deep inside you, but it’s like he's hypnotized by the way you touch yourself. You know he’s watching, eyes dark with hunger as you start to circle your clit, finding that perfect rhythm that makes your legs weak. There’s something so intoxicating about him just watching you, letting you take control of your own pleasure while he stays inside, keeping you full.

"Fuck, that’s hot," he mutters, his voice husky and rough as he leans over you, his lips grazing your ear. "You look so fucking good like this."

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, his words fueling the fire burning low in your belly. Your mind flashes back to everything between you two, from the first time he tagged your bakery walls, scowling like you were the enemy, graffiti cans in his bag, the way he barely looked at you when he spoke. 

Now look at him, look at you—sweat-slicked bodies moving together, his fingers pulling your hair. The teasing exchanges that turned into this—tangled limbs in the very place you swore you'd kill him if he ever touched.  Now, all you can think about is how good he feels inside you, how much you crave more.

His hips start to move again, slow, smooth rolls that make your whole body tingle, but he keeps his hands steady on your hips, letting you keep that perfect rhythm on your clit. The sound of your wet fingers moving in time with his thrusts fills the room, and it’s obscene, but fuck, it’s so good.

“What do you want me to do?” he murmurs against your ear, his voice vibrating through you, sending shivers down your spine.

God. Hot. So fucking hot.

You could ask for anything. Him fucking you against every surface in the bakery, bending you over the counter, the tables, hell, maybe even hanging from the goddamn chandelier if it were possible. But right now, with the way his cock fills you and your fingers work your clit, you only want one thing.

“Pull my hair.”

His hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair, and he gives it a firm tug. The sharp pleasure shoots you, and your body arches against him, hips pressing back to meet his next thrust. The way body rollsl, smooth, matches the pace you’ve set with your fingers. It’s perfect, it’s so fucking good.

His hips snap against you harder now, and you can feel his restraint slipping. He’s getting close, the way his moans get rougher, the way he’s tugging your hair a little more desperately. You know he’s just as on edge as you are.

“Jihoon…”

He moans sly. He knows exactly what he's doing to you.

You hum, breathless. Something so ridiculous comes to mind, and you can’t believe you’re going to say it, but fuck it. 

“Can you… paint me?” You’re not sure where the words come from, but once they’re out, you can’t help but smirk.

He hesitates for a second, his hips stuttering before he recovers. “What?”

You bite your lip, half-laughing through your moans. “You heard me. Paint me. Grafitti me. Whatever. Do it.”

He’s still chuckling, his chest pressed against your back as he slows down, but you can feel the horniness in the way his cock twitches inside you. He is very into it. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

You laugh, but it’s breathless. “You’ve been tagging my bakery for weeks. Might as well make it official.”

He groans, biting his lip as he slides out of you for a moment, leaving you feeling suddenly empty, needy. You turn your head, watching as he reaches for one of the paint cans you knocked over earlier, shaking it a few times. The sound of the metal ball rattling inside echoes through the small space, making your heart race faster.

“You sure about this?” he asks, but there’s a grin on his face, his cock still hard and wet, glistening in the dim light.

You arch your back, pushing your ass out toward him, wiggling a little for good measure. “You scared?”

He shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip. “Not even a little.”

Then, with one hand steady on your lower back, he leans in, the cold metal of the spray can grazing your skin. You hear the hiss of the paint as he presses down on the nozzle, feeling the cold spray hit your skin. It’s not the same as the heat between your legs, but it sends a thrill through your body nonetheless.

“Hold still,” he mutters, focused, but you can hear the grin in his voice. He’s enjoying this—maybe a little too much.

You laugh, a shaky sound as the paint settles on your skin, the smell of it filling the room. “What are you even writing?”

“You’ll see,” he says, voice teasing. The spray continues, and then, after a moment, he steps back. “There. Perfect.”

When he’s done, he pulls you back onto his cock all in once, making you gasp as the pleasure returns full force. “Red suits you,” he says, his voice whiny. You can feel his eyes on you, taking in the sight of you painted, fucked, completely his in this moment.

You look over your shoulder at him, breathless. “What did you write?”

He smirks, thrusting hard enough to make you cry out. “My name,” he says simply. “Right across your ass.”

The sound that leaves your throat is half-laugh, half-moan. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but you can’t deny how fucking hot it is, the thought of his name on you, like a claim.

He watches the paint dry quickly, the faint sheen of it on your skin as you move against him. The thought of cleaning it off flickers in his mind, but fuck, the idea of you walking around with his name stamped across your ass, hidden inside your jeans as you go about your day—a part of him wants it permanent, a tattoo maybe, to mark you in a way no one else could see but him. His. Completely.

His hand slides up your body, fingers sneaking under your shirt and bra until they’re squeezing your tit, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you yelp and splatter your hand onto the counter for balance. Your legs are shaking as his thrusts get rougher, messier, the slick sound of him filling you echoing in the quiet bakery.

You moan out his name, “Jihoonie…” and he fucking loses it. Every time you call him that, it gets to him. The way you say it, needy and teasing, like it was meant to wreck him.

He grunts in response, pulling your hair again to tilt your head back against his chest. Your eyes roll, pleasure coursing through you like fire, and your pussy clenches tight around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

You try to hold yourself up, but your legs are jelly, barely able to stand. “I’m gonna… fuck, Jihoon,” you gasp, your body trembling. You’re on the edge, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly, ready to snap at any second.

He pulls you back harder, his chest flush against your back, his mouth right at your ear as he growls, “Cum for me, baby. Fuckin’ do it. I wanna feel you.”

His words, the rough sound of his voice, the way he’s completely owning you—it pushes you over the edge. You shatter around him, your body convulsing as your orgasm slams into you. Your pussy clenches tight, milking his cock, and you scream his name, your voice echoing through the empty bakery.

He groans deep in his chest, thrusting through your orgasm, chasing his own orgasm. The way you squeeze him, the way you moan and tremble in his arms, it’s too much. He pulls out at the last second, just barely, his hand jerking his cock as he cums, thick ropes spilling onto your ass, painting over his name in red.

You’re a mess, both of you—paint, cum, sweat sticking to your skin—but you can’t bring yourself to care.

His hand slides gently down your back, soothing the tremors that still ripple through your body. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice still shaky. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck, completely different from how rough he was just moments ago.

You breathe out a laugh, still catching your breath. “Think we’re gonna need more than a mop to clean this up.”

Jihoon chuckles, pulling back slightly to admire the mess he made. “Yeah,” he says, “But I gotta say… seeing you with my name on your ass? Kinda want it permanent.”

You tilt your head back to look at him, a lazy smirk on your lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

His smirk matches yours as he tugs you closer, his hands still resting on your hips. “Maybe,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours. “Maybe more than I should.”

Jihoon sulks, his face twisted in irritation as he presses the paper towel against your ass, muttering under his breath about how he ruined it. You can hear him grumbling, the cum smudging the once-clear letters of his graffiti like some kind of art project gone wrong. He’s so focused on trying to clean it up, but all he’s doing is making a bigger mess, the red paint mixing with the white streaks, swirling into a chaotic, almost laughable design.

You, on the other hand, can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face. The whole situation is just too ridiculous—the great Woozi, all serious and brooding, now pouting like a kid who messed up his school project. You rest your arms on the counter, the cool surface grounding you after everything, and glance over your shoulder, still half-naked from the waist down, shaking your head.

“Hey,” you snicker, pushing up onto the counter, bare skin still tingling from what just went down, “come on, take a picture for me.”

He glances up, narrowing his eyes in that grumpy way of his, but he’s not about to argue. With a sigh, he reaches out to take your phone, swiping it from your hand like it was a burden. He shakes his head, but there's the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, waiting as he squats a little to get the right angle. His breath is still slightly ragged, cheeks flushed pink, but he’s focused now, swiping a thumb across the screen before lifting the phone to snap a pic. You hear the click, followed by his low mutter. “Fuckin’ smudged.”

“Let me see,” you laugh, reaching out for the phone. He hands it over with a huff, standing there, arms crossed, while you inspect the damage.

There it is. Bold, bright red, smeared all over your ass. “Woozi,” right there in the middle, smudged but still totally readable. The first “W” is clear, but by the time you get to the “zi,” it’s a messy blur of paint and cum, like he tried to rush through it at the end. You burst out laughing, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty bakery.

“Woozi?” you choke out between laughs, glancing up at him. “You really went with that?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes, cheeks burning a bit now. “What? It’s better than my actual name, isn’t it?”

You squint at the screen again, biting your lip to stop the next wave of laughter from spilling out. The smudge really does make it funnier. It's like his little alter ego tried to make a grand appearance but ended up getting dragged through a mess of his own creation.

“Woozi,” you repeat, grinning as you shake your head. “So now I’m walking around with your vandal name on my ass?”

He shrugs, still pretending to sulk, though you can see he’s fighting back a smile too. “Thought it’d be… symbolic or something. Besides, no one’s gonna know what it says. It’s all smudged now.”

“Oh, they’ll know,” you tease, lifting the phone to show him the picture again. “It’s clear enough, trust me. Woozi’s gonna be famous for something else entirely after this.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, great. Exactly what I need. My name on your ass, and you showing it off to the world.”

“Not showing it off to the world,” you smirk, leaning back on the counter. “Just, you know, keeping it for personal reasons.” You give him a cheeky look, watching as his eyebrows raise in mild curiosity.

Jihoon moves closer, sliding his hands over your hips again, thumbs brushing the sides of your thighs. “Personal reasons, hm?” 

“Yup,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wide. “Might just stare at it whenever I need a good laugh. Or maybe when I need to remember how well you… fuck.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes again, but there’s a smirk pulling at his lips now. “You’re real funny, you know that?”

You nod, still grinning like an idiot. “Yeah, but you love it.”

“Mm,” he hums, stepping even closer, so close that your legs naturally part to let him stand between them. “Love it, huh?”

You raise a brow, tilting your head. “Yeah, love it. You, though?” You press your palms to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt just a bit. “You’re sulking because you didn’t get the masterpiece you wanted.”

His hands grip your waist, and he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’m not sulking,” he whispers, voice dripping with faux irritation. “I just didn’t expect my art to get ruined by…” He pauses, pulling back slightly to give you a teasing look. “…circumstances.”

You snort. “Circumstances? Jihoon, you came on it.”

He tries to hold back a laugh, but it slips out anyway, his chest vibrating against your hands. “Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly help the situation. You’re the one who—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if he’s trying to erase the memory of what just happened.

You grin, tugging him even closer by his shirt. “Say it. I’m the one who what?”

He chuckles. “You’re the one who kept calling me ‘Jihoonie’ like you were trying to kill me.”

“Oh, that’s on me?” you laugh, giving him a playful shove. “You loved it, don’t even lie.”

“I did baby girl, I did.”

You hold on to him, tired from working the whole day and from… fucking in the workplace too.

“But don’t think this makes us even. You still hit me with that damn mop.”

The next few days were nothing short of chaos—an exhilarating rush of sweet and savory tarts flying off the shelves, and new recipes you and Mrs. Lee concocted together, bringing fresh buzz to the bakery. The scent of freshly baked goods filled the air every morning, pulling in crowds, while the constant hum of the oven working overtime had become your new normal.

One morning, Jihoon arrives early, the sun barely peeking over the rooftops, casting a soft golden hue over the quiet streets. He strolls in, wiping the sleep from his eyes, hair a little mussed but looking determined to work.

As soon as he steps inside, he spots you standing near the counter with Mingyu. You're talking animatedly, your hands gesturing as Mingyu grins at something you said. His big frame blocks most of your view, so Jihoon immediately veers toward the vitrines to see how the tarts are doing. He doesn’t want to interrupt whatever you’re saying to Mingyu, but he's definitely curious.

He gets to the counter and freezes. The vitrines… they’re empty. Not a single tart left. Not even the little label card for the savory tarts, the one that proudly displayed the flavors he’d worked so hard to perfect.

His brows furrow, and he turns to you, half in disbelief. “Hey, where’s all the savory tarts?” he asks, trying not to sound like he’s panicking a little.

You and Mingyu exchange a quick glance before you turn to Jihoon, biting back a smirk. “Oh, yeah... about that,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “We had to stop selling them here.”

Jihoon blinks, caught off guard. “What?” He steps closer, eyebrows knitting together. “Stop selling them? What are you talking about?”

You sigh dramatically, playing it up. “They were just taking up too much space, you know? Not enough room for the sweets and everything else. Figured we’d move on to other things.”

Jihoon stares at you, his eyes flicking between your face and the empty case. You can see the gears turning in his head, confusion, then frustration. “But… they were selling well. Why would you—?”

Mingyu pipes up, poorly holding back a laugh. “Yeah, dude, it was wild. People just stopped caring about them, I guess.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “No way. They were doing so well just yesterday—” He stops, eyes narrowing at Mingyu's grin. Then he looks back at you, finally sensing something’s up. “Wait… what’s going on?”

You can’t help it. The corners of your lips twitch, and then you crack, bursting into laughter. “Come on, Jihoon. Just follow me.”

He follows you, still a little skeptical, his pace hurried as he tries to keep up with your sudden excitement. When you lead him out of the main bakery, his confusion only grows. You guide him around the corner to a neighboring shop space you’d kept quiet about.

Jihoon stops dead in his tracks the moment he sees the sign hanging above the door: Lee’s Tarts. His eyes go wide, scanning the large windows where people are already lined up outside, some chatting excitedly while others peek through the glass to get a look at the new place. And right inside, behind the counter, Mrs. Lee is standing tall, her hands expertly working as she serves up savory tarts to eager customers. The place is buzzing, the line practically spilling out onto the street.

“What the hell...” Jihoon mutters, blinking in disbelief.

You nudge his arm playfully. “Surprise.”

He turns to look at you, his expression still caught in shock. “You opened a shop?”

“Well, technically, Mrs. Lee opened the shop,” you grin. “I just helped.”

Jihoon shakes his head, still processing. “This… this is for her?”

“Yeah, for both of you,” you say, folding your arms, satisfied with the look on his face. “Your tarts were way too good to just stay in one little display case. Now they’ve got their own home.”

Then, without warning, he turns to you, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“Holy shit,” he mutters into your hair, squeezing you so hard it almost knocks the wind out of you. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling warmly, something that you rarely see from him. 

“You deserve it, Jihoon. It was all you.”

His lips curl into that soft, genuine smile that’s rare but so worth it when you see it. “Guess we’re gonna be pretty busy, huh?”

“Guess so,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Better get used to it, Woozi.”

You and Mingyu handle the morning crowd in your bakery, but every now and then, you steal glances through the window at the new Lee’s Savory Tart shop next door. The line of people doesn’t seem to stop; every time you look, it’s like there are more. Jihoon’s name is already making waves, and it’s only been a few hours since the doors opened.

Someone at the counter clears their throat, and you turn back, wiping your hands on your apron. A woman leans over the display case, eyes scanning the rows of sweets. “Hey, don’t you have those savory tarts? The ones with the spinach and cheese?”

You nod, smiling. “Not here anymore, actually. We’ve got something even better now.” You motion with your thumb toward the window. “Just next door. The savory tarts have their own shop now, Lee’s Tarts. You’ll find all the flavors there—probably even a few new ones.”

The woman’s eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh! I didn’t know they moved! I was looking forward to trying them again.”

Mingyu, wiping down the counter behind you, pipes in with a grin, “Yeah, you’re gonna want to head over there before the line gets longer. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

The woman glances outside, spots the line, and her face shifts to one of mild panic. “Oh god, it’s already long.”

You chuckle. “Better get in there while you can. They’re selling out fast.”

She nods quickly, a little flustered, and rushes out the door, making a beeline for the shop next door. As the door closes behind her, you share a look with Mingyu. He’s smirking, arms crossed, leaning casually against the counter like he owns the place.

“You’re really sending our customers away like that, huh?” he teases, shaking his head. “What are we gonna do when everyone’s over there?”

You roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh please, you know people will still come for the sweets. Besides, Jihoon’s shop is practically ours. Same team, right?”

Mingyu grins wider. “Yeah, I guess. But damn, the guy’s getting popular fast. Never thought I'd see the day where Jihoon had groupies for tarts.”

You laugh, glancing out the window again, and sure enough, more people are queuing up outside the Lee’s Tarts storefront. “I know, right? It’s kinda surreal.”

Another customer steps up to the counter, a man in a suit, adjusting his tie as he peers at the empty spot where the savory tarts used to sit. “Excuse me, do you still have those mushroom and leek tarts?”

You shake your head, smiling. 

[...]

You lean against the counter, crossing your arms and watching through the glass again. There’s something deeply satisfying about seeing people excited for Jihoon’s tarts—almost like watching a small victory unfold before your eyes. It’s hard not to feel proud.

Mingyu glances at you, brow quirked. “You think he knows how big this is yet?”

You shrug, still watching the customers flow in and out of the shop next door. “Maybe. He’s probably too busy to even think about it right now.”

Mingyu snorts, pushing off the counter. “Yeah, well, let’s just hope he doesn’t get all cocky now that he’s got his own place.”

You smile softly, shaking your head. “Nah. That’s not him. If anything, he’s probably stressing about making sure everything’s perfect.”

As if on cue, the door to the bakery next door opens, and Jihoon steps out for a quick breath of air. He’s in his apron, hair falling into his eyes, looking a little sweaty but in control. 

He glances over to your shop and catches your eye through the window. For a second, his expression softens, and he gives you a small, appreciative nod.

You wave back, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. Then, before he can get too sentimental, he’s back inside, ready to tackle the next wave of customers.

As the day wears on, the steady flow of customers in both shops never really stops. You keep handling the orders, but every once in a while, someone comes in asking for the savory tarts, and you point them next door, grinning every time at how fast Jihoon’s new shop is becoming the talk of the town.

By the end of the day, when the last customer has left and the door finally swings closed, you take a deep breath, leaning against the counter, watching the lights flicker off in Lee’s Tarts through the window. Jihoon steps out again, this time wiping his hands on his apron as he locks up for the night.

He crosses the sidewalk and steps into your bakery, looking utterly exhausted but somehow content. “Busy day?”

You smile. “You could say that. You?”

Jihoon lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Never thought tarts could be this stressful.”

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist in a brief hug. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with it now.”

He smiles down at you, that soft look back in his eyes as he pulls you in for a kiss—quick and sweet this time, just a little stolen moment before the work starts all over again tomorrow.

From behind the counter, Mingyu makes a gagging sound, dramatically covering his eyes. “God, you two are disgusting.”

As you roll your eyes, Jihoon leans in close, his lips brushing your ear with a low murmur. “Maybe we should celebrate... you know, properly. You, me, that freaky side you try to keep in check—let’s see if I survive tonight.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, a smirk pulling at the corner of your lips. “Is that a challenge, Jihoon?”

He chuckles, breath hot against your skin, his hand squeezing your hip suggestively. “Only if you’re up for it. I might not walk straight after, but I’m willing to take that risk.”

[...]

The next thing you know, you're in a motel room, Jihoon having insisted that the best way to celebrate was somewhere far away from work, where neither of you had to think about baking for once.

You’re on top of him, straddling his hips, thighs caging him, riding him so hard it’s like you’ve forgotten how to go slow. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard knocking softly against the wall with every thrust, but all you can hear is Jihoon’s moans—loud and desperate. 

His pale skin is already flushed pink, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Fuck... you're gonna break me," he gasps out, voice strained, eyes half-lidded and desperate. His head falls back against the pillow as you ride him harder, his lips parted in a silent moan. "I can't... shit, you're too good."

You lean down, your hair falling around your faces, your lips brushing his ear as you tease, “You’re not tapping out already, are you?”

His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his hands slipping down to grip your ass, trying to hold you still for a moment, but you don’t let him. You push back against him, harder, faster, and his groan rips through the small motel room. “Fuck, I’m serious... gonna fucking break...”

“You’re the one who wanted to celebrate, remember?” You dig your nails into his shoulders, moving with an intentional grinding roll of your hips, making you two shiver at the same time. "Now take it."

He almost sobs at that, his hands tightening on your waist, his head falling back as his hips buck up into you. The noises spilling from him—those choked-off moans and heavy breaths—made your lower belly boil, making you even bolder. You grind down, angling just right, and Jihoon lets out a sound that's more a whimper than anything.

You bite your lip, holding back a laugh as you grind down harder, feeling his cock twitch inside you. “Look at you. Jihoonie, you're so fucked out. What was that about me breaking you?”

He groans loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands grip your thighs tighter, knuckles white from the pressure. “Shit—”

You lean down, your mouth brushing against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper. “Maybe you’ll survive if you’re lucky.”

That’s all it takes for Jihoon to melt completely. His hands slide down your body, clenching desperately as his entire body tenses beneath you. His hips stutter, a long, ragged moan tearing from his throat as he finally cums, body trembling as he cums hard, buried deep inside you.

For a moment, you just let him ride it out, watching the way his chest heaves, eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss, his body still twitching from the orgasm. You slow your movements, giving him time to catch his breath.

When he finally opens his eyes again, they’re hazy, half-lidded with exhaustion. He looks up at you like you’ve completely destroyed him, which, to be fair, you kind of have.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “You really are going to break me.”

You smile, leaning down to kiss him softly on the lips, your hips still gently rocking against his. “Can’t break my Jihoonie.”

He covers his face, whimpering, cheeks flushing up as if they couldnt get more red. 

“If you call me that again, I'll paint your face.”

“At least it's not my bakery.”

[...]

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching through the window as Jihoon crouched outside, focused, the spray can in his hand hissing with each stroke of paint. The tart he was working on looked almost surreal—like it could pop right out of the wall, the pastry perfectly golden, the filling a burst of deep reds and oranges, with olives vibrantly on top. It was almost too pretty for a bakery wall, but it was Jihoon, and somehow, it worked.

"You're staring again," Mingyu's voice broke through your thoughts, and you barely turned your head as he leaned against the counter beside you, his stupid teasing grin stretching across his face.

“Shut up, i'm not,” you muttered, but even you could hear the weakness in your voice. Your eyes stayed glued to Jihoon, his hands moving quickly, confidently, as he added more details to the tart. a few people stopped to admire it, heads turning as they passed by, and you could see them whispering to each other, clearly impressed. he really was talented.

“Uh-huh," Mingyu’s voice showing that he was doubting everything you say, “You know, if you’re gonna stand there drooling, you might as well just go out there and sit on his lap while he paints.”

You shot him a glare, cheeks heating up. “Mingyu, fuck off.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh come on, just admit it. You’ve been staring at him all week. It’s obvious. The way you look at him? Please.”

You bit your lip, eyes sliding back to Jihoon outside. He had stood up now, switching cans, his fingers stained with vibrant shades of pink and yellow. There was something about watching him work, about how focused he got—His brows furrowed, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he leaned in close to get the details just right.

And, god, after yesterday when he finished the cake on the front of your shop… you were pretty much done for. You hadn’t even realized how long you'd been staring until he'd caught your eye, giving you that little smirk that made your stomach flip. And yeah, the way he insisted on going around the whole damn city to find the perfect pastel colors to match your aesthetic? It was sweet. Way sweeter than you wanted to admit.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, waiting, and you let out a long, frustrated sigh, finally caving. “Fine. okay, Yes. I fucking like him. Happy now?”

His eyes widened in mock surprise, but he was clearly pleased with himself. “Oh my god, really? Who would’ve guessed?”

“Oh, shut up,” you sulked, crossing your arms tighter across your chest and turning your gaze back to Jihoon, who was now adding some final touches to the tart's crust. The sunlight hit him just right, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw, the veins in his forearms as he shook the can. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was annoyed as hell with him, and then… Yeah. Here we are.”

Mingyu chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of this. “I think it was when he convinced you to let him spray that cake on your wall. You looked like you were about to strangle him, but then you didn’t. You just stared at him like he’d hung the moon or some shit.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, well… I guess it was kinda cute. He really went all out with that cake. You know he circled the whole damn city for those colors?”

“Yeah, he told me,” Mingyu said, smirking. “And now look at you, all whipped for him.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair, trying to push down the feelings that were bubbling up again. “God, why am I even telling you this? I don’t need you making it worse.”

ou sighed, glancing out the window one more time, watching Jihoon wipe his hands on his jeans, the drawing complete. He took a step back, admiring his work, and for a second, he glanced your way, catching your eye. He raised his hand in a casual wave, a soft smile playing on his lips. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly turned away, feeling like you’d been caught.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.” You groaned, pushing past Mingyu to head back behind the counter. “Whatever. You’re just jealous he didn’t paint something for your store.”

Mingyu’s laughter followed you as you walked away, but as you leaned against the counter, arms still crossed, you found yourself glancing back out the window, one last time. There was no denying it anymore. You were definitely into him—his art, his focus, the way he just fit into your world without even trying.

You let out a small sigh, content, but your peaceful moment was interrupted when the door swung open hard enough to make the bell jingle a little too loudly. A group of boys walked in, street-worn and loud, carrying backpacks that were half-open, revealing cans of spray paint inside. A couple of them had skates hanging off their shoulders, and their clothes were loose, baggy, clearly not from around here—or at least, not part of the usual clientele.

You blinked, taking in the sight of them as they strolled in like they owned the place, heads bobbing to whatever beat they had going in their heads. One of them, tall with a beanie pulled low over his eyes, spotted you behind the counter and immediately grinned. “Yo, is this the spot where Jihoon’s lil' girlfriend works?”

You froze, mid-wipe, blinking silently at the question. Girlfriend? Lil’ girlfriend? Your face flushed, and you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. You quickly tried to play it cool, clearing your throat. “Uh... I don’t—what?”

The guy chuckled, his crew falling in behind him, all of them eyeing the bakery like it was some kind of alien planet. “Nah, nah, don’t play like that. We know. Jihoon said his girl runs this bakery. This is it, right?”

One of the other boys, wearing a hoodie that was about three sizes too big, pointed to the display case, leaning over the counter a bit. “Damn, y’all got those fancy-ass tarts here. Hey, you think we could get a discount? You know, 'cause we know your man and all.”

You blinked again, gulping, still processing the whole “girlfriend” thing. Flour clung to your apron and dusted your arms, and you suddenly felt a little out of place, standing there dirty from baking while these guys—who clearly rolled with Jihoon—looked way too comfortable.

“You, uh, want some tarts?” you asked, trying to change the subject, wiping your hands on your apron.

The beanie guy grinned again, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll take some. Heard you got some sweet shit in here. Hook us up, Jihoon’s girl.”

You cringed at the nickname but forced a smile, grabbing a few plates and serving up some of the sweet tarts you had left. They all watched you work, curiosity in their eyes, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched watched.

As you handed them their plates, another one of the boys spoke up. “Damn, I thought bakers were like... supposed to be all old and shit. You’re cute, though.”

You almost dropped the plate. “Thanks,” you muttered, cheeks turning pink as you slid the tart towards them. “Enjoy.”

“Yo, speak of the devil,” one of them interrupted, nodding toward the door as it swung open. You turned around, relieved, and there was Jihoon—sweaty, paint splattered across his arms and hands, still holding a spray can. He froze for a second, taking in the scene, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his crew huddled around the counter.

“The fuck you guys doin’ here?” Jihoon grumbled, walking in with that same grumpy look he always wore when he was caught off guard.

You could see Jihoon’s jaw clench as he approached the counter, shaking his head. “She’s not—why the fuck are you even here?”

Another one chimed in, chuckling. “We just wanted to see the spot, man! Heard it was dope.”

Jihoon stepped up next to you, placing a hand on your lower back in a subtle, protective gesture. “Get outta here, you dumbasses. This isn’t a playground.”

 “Bro, why didn’t you tell us she makes shit this good?”

Jihoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked up to the counter. “They’re not here to cause trouble, are they?” he asked, giving you a look that was half-apologetic, half-amused.

“They’re just hungry,” you said, shaking your head, trying not to laugh at how out of place they all looked in your pastel-colored bakery. “Let them eat. I think they like the tarts.”

“They’re pretty good, right?” you teased, handing Jihoon a tart too.

One of the guys pointed his finger between you and Jihoon, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Man, your kids are gonna be so well-fed. Tarts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!”

Jihoon almost choked on his tart, coughing as he shot the guy a glare. “Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no denying the redness creeping up his neck.

You burst out laughing, the absurdity of the situation too much to handle. “You really bring these guys everywhere, huh?”

Jihoon shook his head, embarrassed but smiling too. “I didn’t bring ‘em. They follow me like strays.”

One of the guys grinned, shoving another tart into his mouth. “Hell yeah, we do. And we gonna keep comin’ back if these tarts are free.”

You gave Jihoon a look, shaking your head with a laugh. “Let ‘em eat. They’re harmless… mostly.”

“That one,” Jihoon said, jabbing his thumb toward the high guy. “He’s the asshole who drew the giant cock on your wall.”

Your eyes widened, immediately zeroing in on the guy who was now trying to pretend he wasn’t the subject of conversation. He suddenly found the tarts very interesting, stuffing another one into his mouth to avoid your glare.

“No way,” you deadpanned, your voice dripping with disbelief. “You did that?”

The guy, mouth still full of tart, shrugged sheepishly. “Uh, it was… kinda funny though, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Oh, hilarious,” you said, your voice thick with sarcasm. “Do you know how many old ladies came in here and gave me looks?”

He swallowed hard, looking around at his friends for backup, but they all just laughed, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting called out. “I, uh… I’ll clean it up?” he offered, scratching the back of his head.

Jihoon snorted, shaking his head. “Too late for that, man. She already scrubbed it off.”

You shot Jihoon a look. “I scrubbed it off. With bleach. In the middle of a freakin’ heatwave.”

The guy looked genuinely guilty for a second, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “My bad, yo. Didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal…”

Jihoon laughed under his breath, clearly amused by the whole situation. “You owe her, dude.”

The guy shrugged again, looking at you with a half-apologetic, half-amused grin. “Aight, aight. My bad, lil’ bakery girl. I’ll make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, you better,” you teased. 

“We’re definitely talking about the ‘girlfriend’ thing later.” Jihoon gave you a squeeze on your ass behind the counter, where nobody could see it.

You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him, not missing the way his eyes lingered on you just a second too long. “Oh, are we?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, his breath warm and teasing against your ear. “After I get these idiots outta here.”

[mythicalmaven]

(I used a screenshot of the original request in here, because I wans't able to reply to the original request anymore, whoops)

Here it finally is! Please let me know what you thought of it :) Requests are open btw! Feel free to request anything :) I'm considering to do kinktober as well this year, so leave your requests for that as well :)

Supposed To Be Mine - Charles Leclerc (ONESHOT)

Masterlist ↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader ↳word count: 4.9K ↳warnings: friends to lovers, jealous!sex, jealousy, (minor) possessiveness, jealous Charles, smut, 18+(MDNI!), handjob (m!receiving), pinv ↳summary: In which Oscar wins the Azerbaijan GP & Charles gets jealous because their mutual friend decides to celebrate with Oscar& not him (or so he thinks). This results in pent up emotions, a heated argument & of course, jealous sex

It was Sunday, September 15th when you found yourself making your way through the paddock. The sun was shining bright and the atmosphere was making you feel ecstatic. You, a familiar face on the grid, had been here to support your friends. While you usually worked as a member of the F1 TV team during Grand Prix, this weekend you were off duty, free to fully enjoy the festivities of the Grand Prix.

Over the years, you'd built strong friendships with most of the grid, but there were three drivers you were particularly close to: Oscar, Charles, and Alex. Each friendship had grown naturally, but in distinct ways.

Alex was the one who felt like a brother from the start. You clicked immediately, sharing the same dry humor, hobbies, and an undeniable love for animals. He was always there for you—whether it was picking you up from the club after too many drinks or cheering you up when your heart got broken again. If there was one word to describe your bond, it was siblings.

Then there was Oscar, your roommate. He ticked all the boxes for the perfect best friend. Your friendship took time to blossom, but once it did, you both quickly realized how well you fit together, purely platonically. The thought of taking it further had never crossed your minds—it just wasn’t like that. After moving to Monaco, you’d struggled to find an apartment, so Oscar offered you a place to stay. A year later, you were still living together because, honestly, it was too much fun to stop.

Then last, but certainly not least, Charles. Your bond with him was something else entirely. The connection between you felt effortless, almost surreal. He was the friend you could call at any hour to talk about anything or nothing. You could spend hours in comfortable silence, never growing bored. But Charles was also the friend that you had secretly been in love with for years. You knew you shouldn't be, your friendship worth way too much to risk it for a stupid crush. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get over him. Every time you dated someone else, it always came back to Charles.

But even if you'd allow yourself to feel the way you did about him, you'd already given up the hope of him ever feeling the same despite your friends insisting otherwise, pointing out how he smiled brighter when he was around you or how his gaze lingered a little longer. You were unable to believe it, the scenario seeming to good to be true.

There were moments—fleeting, breathless moments—when you thought something was there. Moments where your faces hovered inches apart, breaths mingling, hearts pounding. But right before anything could happen, one of you would pull back, retreating before the tension broke, both of you pretending it had never happened.

Charles had been in love with you longer than he cared to admit. Everything about you captivated him—the way your laughter filled a room, the ease with which you could calm him when he was frustrated, the way you just got him without him needing to explain a thing. Around you, he felt at ease and yet so unbelievably nervous. His heart would race whenever you were near, his palms would get sweaty, and he could feel the tension in his chest and stomach. There were so many times he’d wanted to pull you close, to feel your body against his, but something always stopped him.

It was fear. Fear that you would notice how much he felt for you and that it would scare you off. The thought of you realizing the depth of his feelings terrified him, because losing you, even as just a friend, was unthinkable. He tried to keep a distance for that reason, but it was impossible. You had this way of driving him wild without even trying, leaving him helpless in the wake of his emotions.

He’d fantasized about you more often than he dared to admit—so many nights spent alone in his apartment, hand slipping beneath his waistband, your name falling from his lips in breathless whispers. But it wasn’t just the physical desire; it was how much he felt when he was around you. You made him feel alive in a way no one else could.

And then, there was Oscar. The way you two were so close, always together, always laughing, sent a pang of jealousy through him. You said there was nothing romantic between you, but sometimes, Charles couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you felt something for him. It ate at him, the idea of someone else having what he wanted so desperately. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold back.

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The roar of engines echoed across the pit lane as the top three finishers of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix parked their cars by their respective signs. Charles finished 2nd, which made you incredibly excited for him, but your excitement today reached an even higher level by the one who finished first. Oscar just won his second Grand Prix in F1 and you were feeling so incredibly proud.

You were standing at the front of the crowd, engulfing Oscar's mom in a crushing hug, sharing your mutual excitement. You looked up at Oscar climbing out of the car, bumping his fist in the air, cheering enthusiastically.

"God, look at him, finally a win he is allowing himself to enjoy!" you chimed to his mom.

You watched as Oscar ran straight into the arms of his engineers, their shared happiness palpable in the air. The joy between them was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile as you took in the scene.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Charles climbing out of his car in the background, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. Post-race Charles always did things to you that you couldn't quite explain. You wanted to wave, but he seemed busy with his team, so you decided to congratulate him on his podium later.

Your attention shifted back to Oscar just as he approached his mum, pulling her into a warm embrace while carefully avoiding bumping her with his helmet.

"I'm so proud of you, darling!" she cooed, squeezing him a little tighter before they eventually pulled apart.

Oscar removed his helmet and reached up to pull off his balaclava, revealing a blissed-out expression. His smile was radiant, a mix of joy and relief, as if the weight of the race had melted away in that victorious moment.

He caught your eye, and his grin widened. "I did it! I actually did it!" he exclaimed, still sounding like he couldn’t quite believe it.

"You did! You really did!" you gushed, your smile matching his as you shared in his happiness.

Without warning, Oscar launched himself at you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you over the fence you’d been leaning against. He hugged you tightly, spinning you around as both of you laughed, the sound of your shared joy echoing across the pit lane.

The cameras were all pointed in your direction, capturing the moment. To you and Oscar, it was nothing more than two best friends celebrating a hard-fought victory. But to the outside world, the scene looked far more intimate than it felt.

Charles stood at a distance, watching the moment unfold. His chest tightened as he took in the sight of you and Oscar together, laughter and smiles shared so easily between you. You’d told him there was nothing going on with Oscar, that the two of you were just best friends—but looking at you now, Charles couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

It hurt. It hurt to see you in Oscar’s arms, when he wished so desperately that it was him instead. He felt a wave of frustration, jealousy swirling inside him. Oscar was his friend, someone he genuinely liked, but seeing you together like that made it hard to think straight. The fear that Oscar might steal you away—his girl, even though you weren’t even his—gnawed at him.

“She said there was nothing between them,” he muttered under his breath, trying to convince himself.

Pierre appeared beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think it’s not what it looks like, mate," he offered, sensing Charles’ mood.

Charles shook his head, frustration still bubbling beneath the surface. "That’s what they always say when they’re denying it," he replied, his voice low. "I know she’s single, and she can do whatever she wants with whoever she wants, but… it just hurts."

Pierre gave him a sympathetic look, but Charles couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to punch something, not because he hated Oscar—he liked Oscar—but because seeing you so close to him made him feel like he was losing you, even though you were never his to begin with.

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Later in the day, as the adrenaline from the race began to wear off, you found yourself searching for Charles. You had spent the afternoon immersed in the celebrations with Oscar and the McLaren team, reveling in their victory. Despite the fun, your thoughts kept drifting back to Charles.

Navigating through the bustling paddock, you scanned the area for any sign of him. You wanted to offer your congratulations and express how proud you were, but Charles seemed to have vanished.

When you stepped into the Ferrari motorhome, you were greeted by Carlos. The Spaniard offered you a small, knowing smile. "Hey," he said as he approached you.

"Hey, have you seen Charles?" you asked, absentmindedly twirling a stray strand of hair.

Carlos's smile turned apologetic. "He already left for the hotel. Said something about not feeling up to it today."

Your heart sank a bit. "Oh, I wanted to congratulate him earlier, but I got caught up with the celebrations."

A flicker of realization crossed Carlos's face. "Ah, that explains why he seemed so on edge when he came back here."

Confusion clouded your expression. "What do you mean?"

Carlos’s eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "I think Charles got a bit unsettled seeing you so close with Oscar instead of him."

You frowned, trying to make sense of it. "Why would he be annoyed? My best friend won the race. Of course I celebrated with him. It's not like I didn't want to celebrate with Charles, it's just that Oscar is my best friend. And he also deserves the attention when he achieves something amazing like this."

Carlos’s smirk widened slightly. "That’s exactly his problem."

You stood there, grappling with the situation, struggling to find the right words. Carlos seemed to sense your confusion and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Maybe you should talk to him. There might be more going on between you two than you realize."

His words hung in the air, adding a new layer to your thoughts as you considered the possibility of unspoken feelings and misunderstandings.

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"You seemed awfully intimate with Piastri this afternoon, anything unfolding there?" you heard Alex tease on through the phone.

He had called you had texted that you were on the way back to the hotel, something you often did to just gossip and rant about everything that went on.

You rolled your eyes, and huffed "Why does everybody keep saying that. Not even in my wildest dreams, ew" you whined "I know he's good looking, I'm not blind, but the idea of doing something with him revolts me just as much as it revolts him"

The chuckle that Alex let out was audible to you "Well, to be fair, it didn't look like nothing on camera" he started, another chuckle leaving his lips "Have you checked your social media lately? Apparently the camera's catched Charles' reaction to your little moment with Oscar. The video is going quite viral. He is shooting daggers at Oscar, man. The jealousy is literally burning in his eyes"

You sighed "Don't, Alex" you whispered "Don't give me hope"

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You arrived at Charles's hotel room with a mix of anxiety and frustration swirling inside you. His abrupt disappearance after the celebration, coupled with his avoidance of your calls, had left you feeling unsettled and concerned. Your knuckles rapped against the door, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. When Charles finally opened it, his face was a mask of irritation, the tension in his posture unmistakable.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, stepping past him before he could react.

Charles’s eyes were dark with frustration. “Nothing,” he snapped, but the rigidity in his stance and the clenched fists he tried to hide told a different story.

You let out a sigh, frustration bubbling up inside you. “I know you’re lying,” you insisted, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, trying to steady your breathing. “Please, just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. What did I do?”

Charles stood with his back to you, his breathing shallow and uneven. “Why him?” he finally asked, his voice strained and raw.

Confusion creased your brow. “What are you talking about?”

Charles’s frustration finally erupted. “Why did you celebrate with Oscar and not with me? I finished second. I deserved some attention too.”

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the rising tension. “Oscar’s my best friend too. This win was a big deal for him. I wanted to be there for him. I tried to find you, but you were already gone.”

Charles’s eyes flashed with hurt and jealousy, a dark storm clouding his gaze. “It feels like you care more about him than me. It fucking hurts to see you so close to him, probably even—”

His words struck a nerve, causing irritation to flare within you. “Oscar and I are just friends, Charles.” You stated, your anger bubbled over. “And so what if it was more? Why does it matter to you? I’m not your property. You dont get to decide who I spend time with. You’re my best friend, not my boyfriend.”

Charles’s face flushed with frustration, his voice rising with each word. “Merde, for fuck’s sake, I don’t want to be your best friend!”

His declaration stunned you, a mix of hurt and anger surging within you, causing tears to well up in your eyes. “Well, if you don’t want to be my best friend, I might as well go back to Oscar then. Since, according to you, that’s where I prefer to be. You apparently know me better than I do!”

Without waiting for a response, you turned to leave, but Charles’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a desperate grip. His eyes burned with an intense emotion, a mixture of longing and possessiveness that was almost palpable. Before you could react, he pulled you close, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was both fierce and consuming.

The kiss was rough, charged with pent-up emotions. Charles’s lips moved against yours with an urgent hunger, a reflection of the depth of his feelings. The heat of his body pressed against yours, every touch and caress infused with an intensity that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your curves, claiming you with each possessive stroke. You could feel the undeniable pressure of his arousal pressing against you, intensifying the moment.

He guided you gently back toward the bed, his touch both tender and commanding. Slowly, he lowered you down onto it, his hands caressing your sides with a reverence that spoke of his deep feelings for you. He leaned over you, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t want to be your best friend,” he said, his voice heavy with desire. “I want to be your boyfriend.”

You were taken aback by his declaration, the words resonating deeply within you. Before you could respond, Charles’s lips were on yours again, kissing you with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, as he explored your body with a mix of urgency and tenderness.

You moaned softly, the sound escaping your lips as his touch ignited a fire within you. Charles’s arousal was evident, his body pressing against yours in a way that heightened your senses. “Tell me you think about me at night and not him,” he demanded, his voice husky and filled with longing.

The world around you seemed to dissolve as Charles’s touch and kisses overwhelmed your senses. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, caressing, igniting every nerve with a mix of desperation and adoration. His touch was both possessive and tender, his kisses deep and demanding.

“Tell me,” he urged, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me you scream my name when you come and not his.”

You met his intense gaze, your voice breathless and filled with yearning. “Only you, Charles. It has always been you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction, his expression softening slightly as he continued his intimate exploration. He guided your hands to his jeans, his breathing ragged with desire. “Have you ever thought about him like this?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper. “Touched him like this?”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and affection. “It’s only you, Charles,” you replied, your voice sultry. “I never saw Oscar that way.”

Charles’s frustration and desire mingled as he felt your touch, his body tensing and his control slipping. He moaned softly, a deep, guttural sound that reflected his overwhelmed state. His hands gripped the edge of the bed for support as you palmed him through his jeans, your touch eliciting a series of desperate groans from him.

Unable to hold back any longer, you undid the button of his jeans and slid your hand inside, taking him in your grasp. Charles gasped, his breathing coming in short, erratic bursts. “F-Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice strained. “That feels so good.” His body tensed and trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation of your touch. “J-Just like that,” he gasped, his voice a desperate, needy growl. “Show me you’re mine. I want you to think about me every time you touch yourself. I hope that after tonight, you can never touch another man without thinking about me.”

You looked at him, your eyes filled with passion. “It’s already been like that for years,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire.

Charles’s gaze softened for a moment, but his need took over. He flipped you back onto the bed with a sudden, urgent intensity. His movements were driven by a deep-seated desire, his lips finding yours again, kissing you with a feverish passion that made your heart race.

As he undressed you, his touch was both deliberate and passionate. He removed the last bits of his clothing with a mix of urgency and tenderness, his hands lingering on your skin, savoring the feel of you beneath him. He paused, looking into your eyes with a mixture of tenderness and desire. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me, do you want this as much as I do?”

You nodded, your voice breathless with anticipation. “Yes, Charles. I want you. I want all of you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction as he positioned himself above you. His hands continued their intimate exploration, his kisses trailing down your neck and shoulders with a mix of urgency and tenderness. Each touch was a declaration of his intense feelings, a blend of passion and possession that left you craving more.

As the intensity of the moment built, Charles’s control wavered. He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with a mixture of need and desire. “Tell me you’re mine,” he urged, his voice a rough whisper. “I want to hear you say it, mon amour”

You looked at him, your body trembling with desire as he continued to touch and kiss

you. “I’m yours, Charles,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both need and certainty.

Charles’s expression softened into one of profound relief and adoration, but a trace of jealousy lingered in his eyes, his gaze never leaving yours. As he positioned himself between your legs, there was a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness in his touch. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice filled with deep emotion and a hint of a possessive edge.

With that, he entered you slowly, his movements tender yet unmistakably possessive. His thrusts were gentle and loving, but each one was infused with a sense of claiming, as though he was marking you as his own. His kisses were gentle but urgent, his lips traveling down your neck as he began to suck and nibble, leaving marks that would clearly show his affection and his possessiveness.

You gasped, feeling the intensity of his touch. “Charles, be careful. They will be visible,” you said, your voice a mixture of concern and pleasure.

Charles’s eyes darkened with a mix of satisfaction and jealousy. “That’s the point,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl filled with both desire and a possessive undertone. “I want him to see and know that you belong to me. I want him to see what he’s missing, that you’re mine and mine alone.”

His words stirred something deep within you, causing a moan to escape your lips that was loud and unrestrained, a testament to the intense pleasure you were experiencing. Your hand instinctively traveled up to his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled gently but firmly. The sensation of his hair being tugged caused him to shiver, and he let out a deep, guttural moan that reverberated against your skin.

Charles’s reaction was immediate and visceral. He groaned softly, his breath coming in ragged bursts as the pull on his hair heightened his arousal. “Fuck...” he whispered, his voice trembling with both pleasure and disbelief. The feeling of your fingers in his hair only intensified his longing, making him feel as though he were losing control. “Merde… that feels so good,” he muttered, his tone rough and desperate. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

The way you tugged at his hair drove him to new heights of pleasure, his moans growing louder and more fervent as he lost himself in the sensations. Each pull sent a jolt of electricity through him, making his movements more urgent and fervent, as though he were trying to convey just how deeply your touch affected him.

As he continued, his thrusts maintained a balance of gentle passion and possessive claim, his hands gripping you with a mix of tenderness and assertion. The rhythm of his movements was both caring and commanding, a reflection of his deep, conflicted emotions. His kisses left a trail of marks, each one a silent declaration of his fierce, consuming love and possessiveness.

Charles’s eyes lock onto yours, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “I-I’m so close,” he gasps, his voice strained with the intensity of the moment. The desperate need in his eyes makes your heart race, his body pressing into yours with a fervor that only heightens your own arousal.

You can barely hold back your own pleasure, the sensations coursing through you almost overwhelming. “Me too” you moan, your voice trembling as you inch closer to the edge. “Come for me, Charles,” 

Your encouragement is the final push he needs, and his body reacts instantly. The combination of your words and the electric tension between you drives him over the edge. The urgency in Charles’s movements and the heat of his gaze as tumbles over the edge draws you to the peak of your ecstasy with him.

As the two of you reached the peak of your intimacy, Charles’s moans mingled with your own, creating a symphony of pleasure and connection that echoed through the room. The shared release was an explosion of ecstasy that left you both trembling and gasping, entwined in the aftermath of your union. 

When the world finally settled and the waves of pleasure began to recede, Charles held you close, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he whispered, “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been in love with you.”

You smiled through your own breathless satisfaction, responding softly, “I could say the same to you.”

Charles’s expression softened further as he kissed you tenderly, his hands caressing your skin with a gentleness that spoke of his deep affection. The moment was filled with a profound sense of connection and fulfillment, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the strength of your bond.

masterlist

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

ANIMAL INSTINCT

PAIRING: logan howlett x vampire mutant!female reader

RATING: explicit | WORD COUNT: 2.3k

SUMMARY:

after helping you out by letting you feed from him, logan asks you to return the favor.

part two of bloodthirsty

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

thank you for all the love on bloodthirsty! here’s a nice and smutty second part. big thank you to @guiltyasdave for reading this over for me 💕

TAGS/WARNINGS:

explicit sexual content (18+ mdni), x-men (2000) logan howlett, able bodied reader, vampire mutant!reader, no use of y/n, single POV - reader, primal play (chase/capture), gratuitous use of growling/roaring, light fighting, mentions of blood, biting, rough sex, semi-public sex (in the woods), oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, creampie, dirty talk, blade play (the claws come out).

Logan finds you in an empty hallway one afternoon, about two weeks after your encounter in the kitchen. You made the mistake of making eye contact, leaving you unable to turn and pretend you didn't see him like you've been doing since that night. 

"You avoiding me or something?" he says, hint of a smile on his lips. 

"No," you reply quickly. "What makes you think that?"

"Haven't seen you around much lately."

"Just busy."

"Right." He looks away for a moment, hands on his hips. "Look, I got a proposition for you."

"I don't--"

"I got this issue--," he continues, ignoring your response "--where it gets to be too much, you know? And I helped you out so--"

"What are you talking about?" you interrupt.

His voice drops a bit lower. "We're predators, right? And I don't know about you but sometimes my prey drive can be...too much, if you catch my drift."

"Okay..."

"And I got two words for you - quid pro quo."

You blink at him. "Logan, that's three words."

"I thought pro quo was one word."

"Why would you think that?"

"We're getting off topic," he says, waving his hands. “Think you can help a guy out?"

"Help you...how, exactly?"

You agree to meet Logan at the edge of the dense forest that surrounds the X Mansion at nightfall and as you walk through the grounds blanketed in darkness, your senses begin to feel more alive. Anticipation courses through you and the further you venture from the mansion, the darker the night becomes.

Logan is already there when you arrive, tension rolling off of him in waves. He gives you a tight smile.

"Took you long enough," he says. You roll your eyes.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" You gesture to the forest. "So, what now?"

"You run," Logan replies. "I hunt."

The deep timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. What he's asking for goes against your nature but some deep part of you is eager to please. 

You take off through the trees, running as fast as your legs will carry you across the soft forest floor. With your enhanced speed, it's not long before you're miles from the manicured mansion grounds, surrounded by gnarled roots and a thick canopy of leaves that blocks nearly all light from the moon.

You slow to a stop, catching your breath. The snap of a branch is the only warning you get before Logan's heavy weight barrels into you, sending you both tumbling to the ground with him coming out on top, smiling down at you, a wild glint to his eyes.

"Gotta do better than that, bub," he says. He stands up, holding a hand out to help you to your feet. "I'll give you a head start this time."

"I don't need a head start," you grumble. "I'm faster than you."

He laughs. "We'll see about that."

You start running, his laughter ringing in your ears. Your path is less direct this time, weaving through the trees and doubling back to leave your scent in more places and crossing a small creek with the hopes that the running water helps to cover your tracks. You grow comfortable enough in your lead that you begin to slow down, keeping yourself attuned to the sounds of the forest and any changes that might indicate Logan has found you.

The trees break into a vast clearing, tall grass swaying in the breeze. Moonlight trickles past the branches, stripes of faint light illuminating the floor. You take a moment to appreciate the tranquility of it, but the calm is short lived when you catch movement at the corner of your eye.

Logan steps through the trees. He's removed his shirt, thick muscle glimmering with sweat, his chest heaving with labored breath. Your mouth goes dry at the sight and for a moment you really do understand what it's like to be prey, faced with something so deadly it's almost hypnotizing, impossible to look away even when you’re in danger. He stalks closer and you feel frozen in place, unable to move a muscle.

"Found you," he growls. 

Your survival instinct kicks into gear and you attempt to run away, sprinting across the glade with renewed vigor. If you can make it back into the forest you know you could shake him loose again, but staying in the clearing makes you a clear target. 

Logan roars, the sound loud enough to shake the branches of nearby trees. You risk a glance over your shoulder and are met with the sight of the man on all fours, running towards you with single minded determination. He rapidly closes the distance with impressive speed, wrapping his arms around you and taking you down to the ground for the second time that night.

You grapple with him, landing a kick to his chest that gives you the chance to crawl out from beneath him. He reaches a hand out for your ankle and drags you back toward him, using his weight to hold you in place. You wiggle an arm free and strike at his face, though he dodges and your fingernails scrape against his neck, leaving red gashes in their wake that heal in the blink of an eye. He pins your arm to the ground above your head.

"No more runnin’,” he says, a command that shoots straight to your core. You know he’s not talking about just tonight, but rather how you’ve been avoiding him. 

But how were you supposed to face him when the only thoughts you had of him since then were about how sweet he tasted, how good he felt, how much you wanted more, more, more that you couldn’t possibly ask him to give?

Your inner turmoil is lost when his lips slam against yours in a kiss that’s hot and hungry, stealing your breath with its ferociousness. His teeth sink into your bottom lip and you gasp at the sharp sting of pain that lights up your nerves. There’s nothing gentle about it, but you’re not gentle creatures and the beasts that pace and snarl beneath your ribcage have finally broken free.

Logan breaks the kiss to stare down at you with wild eyes. Blood, your blood, stains his lips and his tongue darts out to lick it away with a satisfied hum. He leans in close, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, mouth open against your skin with the threat of sharp teeth over your racing pulse.

“Can’t hide it,” he says. “Not when I can smell it on you, sweetheart.”

“Smell what?” 

“How much you want it.” He nips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, making you hiss. “How much you want me.”

Heavy hands find the hem of your shirt, shoving it up your chest until it’s bunched beneath your armpits. He pulls down your bra to expose your breasts and your nipples tighten at the sudden burst of cold air against your skin but his mouth is on you in an instant, warm tongue tracing the taut buds. Your back arches at the sensation and you dig your fingers into his thick hair, pulling at the strands. He hums with pleasure as he switches to your other breast, giving it the same maddening attention.

His palm slides down your belly, fingers dipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and finding your needy center, swirling through the mess you’ve already made in your underwear. You can feel the smug grin on Logan’s face before he even lifts his head to look at you.

“That’s what I thought.” He withdraws his hand, holding it up to his face. In the moonlight you catch a glimpse of the strands of slick stretching between his index and middle finger before he sticks them in his mouth with a groan, licking them clean. “Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.”

The metallic sound of his claws unsheathing reaches your ears and your pulse jumps as he drags the blunt side of a single blade up the inside of your thigh. The tip catches on the fabric covering your pussy and with one quick move of his wrist he slices through your pants. His claw disappears and he reaches down with both hands to tear the fabric further.

Logan settles on his belly with his head between your thighs, your legs propped up on his broad shoulders. He kisses your pussy over the soaked fabric of your underwear but

spares you any further teasing, grabbing your panties in a tight fist and pulling roughly until the elastic snaps against your skin and he holds the torn fabric in his fist. He tosses them aside and buries his face in your cunt, devouring you like a man on a mission. His tongue alternates circling your sensitive clit and dipping into your dripping entrance, expertly tracing every inch of you. You’re so lost to the pleasure that you don’t notice him getting to his knees until he’s lifting your hips, hands gripping your ass tightly to keep your lower body suspended in the air and his mouth sealed to your cunt.

“Fuck!” you cry out, muscles growing tense as your orgasm builds. It hits you like a tidal wave, coursing through your veins as you shout his name like a prayer. His hold remains tight as he works you through it until you grow boneless in the aftermath.

He lowers you slowly back to the ground and you fight to catch your breath while he quickly removes his belt and shoves his jeans down enough to free his cock. You watch him take himself in hand, a brief slide of his fist over his impressive length before he runs the glistening head through your sensitive folds, bumping your clit and making you shiver.

Logan’s gaze remains fixed to yours as he presses forward, breaching your tight entrance. Your body accepts him greedily, the slight sting and stretch barely a thought when all you can focus on is how full he makes you feel.

His lips find yours for a messy kiss while he begins to thrust, a slow drag of his cock from your body followed by a sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs. You cling to his shoulders, clawing at his skin. The scent of his blood invades your senses and your teeth begin to ache at the memory of his taste. 

Your teeth catch on his lip and he hisses but doesn’t pull away. Copper blooms across your taste buds and you can’t help the desperate moan that escapes into the kiss.

“Come on, baby,” Logan says. “Take a bite.”

You rest a palm on the back of his head, urging him closer, lifting your head and kissing his neck, licking the salty taste of him from over his fluttering pulse. You open your mouth, sinking your teeth into skin and muscle and vein until warm blood spills into your mouth. The combination of his blood on your tongue and his cock spreading you open sends you over the edge.

Above you, Logan growls, a deep rumble you can feel down to your marrow, some ancient part of you preening with excitement. He holds himself still as you clench around him. Your orgasm slowly subsides and you find the strength to unclench your tense jaw from his neck, gently licking at the blood that spills from the deep impressions of your teeth.

Logan sits up, cock slipping from your body and leaving you achingly empty. His hands grip your hips, forcefully turning your lax body over and hiking your ass into the air. He spreads your cheeks and the vulnerable position has your whole body growing hot.

“Hope you didn’t think we were done,” he tells you as he positions himself behind you, thrusting his length back into your body and setting a brutal pace that has you crying out into the night. 

One hand holds your hip with bruising force while the other settles on your shoulder, pulling you into every delicious snap of his hips. Your mind goes blissfully blank with the overwhelming pleasure building up inside of you for the third time.

He folds forward, his chest pressed to your back and his pace growing sloppy as he nears his own release. A hand curls around yours, a moment of intimacy that leaves you reeling.

Logan roars, hips slamming into a final time, dragging your last orgasm from you as his cock pulses with his release inside of you. A sharp pain on your hip makes you gasp and you notice his claws have extended from the hand wrapped around yours, sinking into the dirt.

“Shit,” he pants, sitting up after a moment. The loss of his heat makes you shiver. “I nicked you.”

You slowly move yourself into a seated position, muscles feeling like jelly, and inspect the area that the pain came from. Your leggings have a new slice in the fabric and the material is sticky with blood but to your surprise, there’s no wound to be found.

“You heal that quick?” Logan asks. You shake your head.

“Not usually.” You run your fingers over smooth skin. “Must have been your blood.”

“You think so?”

You shrug. “Just a guess. Never fed from someone with advanced healing factor.”

“You sayin’ I’m your first?” he asks with a smirk. You can’t help the laugh that escapes and his smirk stretches into a grin. Logan stands, fixing his pants and holding a hand out to help you up. 

“How am I supposed to get back into the mansion like this?” you ask, gesturing to your destroyed leggings. 

“Guess I didn’t think that through,” he admits. “Give me a few minutes and I can be back with some new clothes.”

“How are you going to get into my room?”

He turns to look at you, continuing to walk backwards.

“I’m a man of many talents.”

With a wink, he disappears through the trees. You sigh.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Thank you for reading!

LINKS

all masterlists | logan howlett masterlist | support for palestine

[whisperofwonder]

Comfortable

Uncomfortable domestic moments when you realize just how comfortable you are together, and how much he really cares about you

I just really love domesticity, okay? Even when it isn't pretty.

Featuring: Kuroo Tetsurou, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Miya Atsumu x reader

(a few potential triggers here, sorry!) TW: vomit / vomiting in Kuroo's ; blood/period in Ushijima's, then you'll have Atsumu's which is really just light and kind of goofy oops

KUROO TETSUROU

"Ugh," You moan as you reach to flush the toilet. You get to your feet and turn to find Tetsurou still hovering behind you. You grimace thinking about how he'd held your hair back just moments ago, as you released the entire contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl.

He hands you a cup of water. "How are you feeling?" He asks as you rinse out your mouth - it's a silly question, all things considered, but you don't exactly have a snarky answer at hand.

"I'm sorry," You blurt instead, not quite sure how he can be looking at you with that almost tender expression on his face after witnessing that.

"Why are you apologizing?" He asks softly, reaching to unstick a sweaty strand of hair from your face.

"Because, it's so gross. You didn't have to come in here," You insist. "I'm an adult, and - you really shouldn't have to see that." You purposefully avoid glancing in the mirror. You don't even want to know what you must look like right now.

"But I don't want you to feel gross alone," He says as if it's simple. You open your mouth, searching for some kind of retort, but nothing comes. "I know you can take care of yourself, but you shouldn't have to," He continues. "Not when I'm right here."

It's so surprisingly sweet that you feel your face start to crumple. "Tetsu," You squeak out.

"Shh," He shushes you, "Just tell me what I can do. Do you need anything?"

"I just want to go back to bed," You admit, reaching out to grab the edge of the sink as you feel yourself begin to waver.

"Okay then," He says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he scoops you up in his arms, slowly carrying you back to the bedroom and setting you gently on top of your pillows. "Try to get some rest," He murmurs, pulling the blankets up over you. "I love you," He adds, brushing the hair away from your face.

"I love you too," You murmur back, leaning into his touch and the comfort of the knowledge that he'll always be right here.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

Your alarm feels even earlier than usual, and after confirming that it is indeed time to get up, you turn it off with a groan. You're feeling particularly at odds with the world already today, and part of you just wants to pull the covers over your head and go back to sleep. Instead, you slither out of bed, standing next to it as you check the e-mail notification that had popped up overnight.

"Oh," At the sound of his voice, you turn to look at Wakatoshi. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, and he's looking at you with a slight frown on his face. "My love..." He gestures down at your side of the bed, and to your horror, you see a streak of red on the otherwise pristine sheets.

Suddenly, the way you're feeling is making a lot more sense. "Oh no," You drop your face in your hands, muffling your words. "That's absolutely disgusting. I'm so sorry." You don't even want to look at him, but at the sound of rustling sheets, you finally drop your hands. Your boyfriend is methodically stripping the bed.

"Why don't you get in the shower? I'll start washing these." He says matter-of-factly. There must be something in your expression, because you see his face soften. "It's alright. It's natural," He assures you.

"But-" You can't put into words how mortified you are. Natural or not, he shouldn't have to see it, much less clean it up. "At least let me do that," You insist finally, reaching for the pile of bedding.

"No," He twists away so that it's out of your reach, "I've got it. Just get in the shower, okay?"

"You shouldn't have to, though," You say more softly.

"I don't have to," He agrees. "I want to help you. Can I do that?"

You bite your lower lip, trying not to let your hormonally-charged emotions win this battle. "Okay," You say finally.

"Okay," He echoes you, dropping the sheets into the laundry basket before crossing the room back to you, gently taking your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your lips. "I'll make you some tea to have with breakfast," He adds after he pulls away. "Will that help?"

"Yes," You whisper, the I-love-you hidden in his words practically echoing in your head. You can't resist pulling him back in for one more kiss, hoping he feels the I-love-you-too that you press into it.

MIYA ATSUMU

"Atsumu!" You knock on the bathroom door, "Are you soon done?" It's moments like these when you really regret that this apartment has only one bathroom.

"Just got in!" He shouts back above the sound of the running shower. You bite back a sigh. He's famous for his long, hot showers.

"I really have to go!" You call back. "Can't you make it quick?" You're on the verge of pacing back down the hallway, just to help you hold it in.

"The door isn't locked! Can't ya just come in and go?" You freeze. It might be silly, but it's an unspoken milestone that you haven't crossed yet - peeing in front of each other.

"But!" You groan.

"But what? Ya've seen me naked before," You can practically hear his smirk.

"Tsumu," You whine, but in a matter of moments, you open the door anyway. It's gotten to the point where you don't have much choice. With only a moment's hesitation, you put up the toilet lid.

"How was yer day?" Atsumu begins conversationally.

"We're not doing this," You say quickly. "I'm going, and then I'm leaving the bathroom."

You hear him sigh. "Want me to get out and pee too, so we're even?" He asks, completely serious.

"No!" You say quickly. "I'm leaving now." Before he can say anything else, you're closing the door behind you.

About 10 minutes later, Atsumu finds you in the kitchen, towel wrapped around his waist as drips of water slip from his hair. "Guess we're a real couple now," He grins, leaning in and pressing a damp kiss to your lips.

"We weren't before?" You ask, quirking an eyebrow.

"'Parently not. Didn't know it was such a big deal," He says with a smug grin. "How will I ever look at you the same again?"

"Hey!" You swat his bare shoulder indignantly. "It was your idea." You remind him.

"Guess so," He hums. "Know what? I think I still love ya just as much." His smile is softer somehow, despite the teasing glint in his eyes.

"Oh?" You ask, struggling to maintain your haughty expression.

"Yeah," He nods. "Looks like you're stuck with me." He leans in for a longer kiss, almost making you forget about the small puddle that's begun to form on the floor.

[darnell-la]

i crave more mob boss!wolverine

𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗗

pairing: possessive mob-boss!logan howlett x stripper!reader

warnings: kidnapping, forced working, strangers to lovers, stripping, spoiling, grinding, breast play, tit sucking, riding, orgasm, possessiveness, rough fucking, claiming, etc.

summary: y/n had no idea who the top boss was and what he wanted from her. She soon found out during an unexpected requested private dance.

note: Logan is a man who’s going to mark his grounds. He’s very territorial. Reading this story will make you understand…

———

How do you guys feel about a x men story with reader? Logan being rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again, because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

Working at a strip club was one thing when y/n first started the job. She was uncomfortable, but the ladies had made her feel welcomed.

Working for a mob boss was another; this time, she had to work whether she was comfortable or not. She tried talking to her boss, but his boss was the one who said she needed to relocate. There was no arguing.

Y/n tried to quit that day and soon found out how dangerous this man was. A few men had broken into her apartment, taking the lady with a fight.

She pled for help, but the people in the apartment knew whose men they were. They quickly went back into their own space and minded their business.

She now lives in a nightclub unwillingly. She wasn’t trusted by the top boss, so he made her stay where she would always be supervised.

This club was different than the last one she had worked at. It was bigger, cleaner, seemed more expensive, and the work she had to do was harder. She had never given private dances, but with her new schedule, she had to.

She’d never met the boss before. She demanded almost every day, but for months, Logan had sat back and ignored her requests.

When she first started at the other club, he hadn’t paid any attention to her because he had other things to worry about, but after he noticed her growth and the business she brought in, he decided to pay attention to her.

That meant he watched her dance, watched her have fun with the other girls, had people surveillance her outside of work, and maybe he’d do it himself if he had time.

The woman grew onto the man, so much, he couldn’t ignore her. He’d think and ask about her every day until too he finally told her boss, the man who worked for him, that she’d be relocating to his top club.

Y/n couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t being treated right occasionally. Her dances cost more, the private dances could pay her old rent, and she would get a daily allowance from the mysterious boss, which was double what she made in a week.

Anytime she thought about running away and making the higher-ups upset, she would sit back and think about her life, and the money.

She had no idea if this man was capable of killing her, and why would she run away from a job that gave her so much money, she could buy literally anything she wanted.

Y/n didn’t know this, but Logan would never harm a soul. Especially her. If she were to run away, he’d simply get her back.

“How long is this dance?” Y/n sighed as she walked in front of one of the VIP doors that was guarded more than usual. Usually, there are only two being on each side of the door, but tonight, the whole hallway was full of security guards.

“As long as he says,” the man replied to her with no facial expression. Y/n rolled her eyes as she opened the door to go in.

Once she got in, she saw a man in a chair, facing the other way. He was smoking a cigar and had a bottle of hard liquor sitting on the coffee table next to him.

Y/n closed the door before dimming the lights. She had no idea who this man was, as always, but she still continued her work.

Y/n pressed a button on the wall which turned on music for her. Her own playlist that she made to make her work against her will.

Logan, the boss would never allow any of his workers to do this, but for y/n, he exuded it. He wanted to make her feel comfortable without giving her up. That is why he gives her an allowance. Steppers don’t get an allowance from the boss.

“How do you want this session to go, baby?” Y/n asked as she came up behind the man, touching his shoulders softly as her lips slightly grazed his ear. The smell of her this close smelled amazing to the man.

“Touchy and slow,” the man said, making the girl walk around him until she was in front of him. “Good choice,” she smirked, knowing those are the best-paying sessions.

Y/n took a few steps away from the man and began stripping, slowly. She had this tight dress on she had never worn before. He picked that out for her.

“Slower,” he demanded in a soft and low voice. Y/n listened, pulling the straps from her shoulder as slowly as she could go with the music she had chosen.

Once y/n got the dress off, she turned around, showing off her body to the man. He had also picked the lingerie. He knew she’d look stunning in it.

“C’mere,” he said as he sat his cigar down and shifted in his chair. Y/n slowly turned around and walked towards the man who patted his lap.

“Sit,” he said, and she did as told, putting her knees on both sides of his outer thighs. “You can touch anywhere that’s not clothed,” y/n said as the man slowly placed his hands on her ass cheeks, gripping the slightly.

“Ain’t that so?” He softly chuckled as she began grinding her hips. “Mhm hm,” she hummed as she placed her hands on the man’s shoulders.

“What if I tell you I’m a special request? — A special guest,” he said, making her lean into his ear. “Then you’ll have to talk to my boss about a price change,” she said, knowing most don’t.

The man laughed as he softly traced his hands u the girl's body until she cupped her cheek, making her look into his eyes.

He was one of the best-looking customers she’s had. Tall, dark, handsome, muscular, actually smelled good, and the way he touched her almost seemed like soft and careful loving touches.

“Maybe I will,” he said, making her heart skip a beat. “I-I don’t know if he’ll allow it though,” y/n tried lying, and he knew that. “And why would that be, Bub?” The man asked as she kept grinding on him with soft but rough touches on his chest and shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she replied, making him chuckle again. “Lemme ask him real quick,” the man said before he closed his eyes shut. Y/n stopped her movement, confused about what he was doing.

She went to speak until his eyes finally opened. “He said, I can,” Logan answered for himself. “I don’t think that's how it works, baby,” y/n giggled, finding the man funny.

“Oh, but I do, Bub,” the man said as his hands slowly traced up her body until his fingers hugged into her bra. “Hey, if you wanna good session, you gotta follow the rules-“ Before she could say anything, the man ripped her bra off, clean.

Y/n let out a short scream as she covered herself up. “That’s it — Get out!” Y/n went to get up, but he gripped her waist tightly, keeping her in place.

“Why is that?” He asked with a smirk, liking how defensive she got. “If you don’t leave, I’m gonna call the boss,” she said, making him chuckle. She had no clue. She was about to find out.

“Told you, he said it was alright,” Logan said, making the girl give him a face of confusion. She was confused and thought to herself until it clicked in her head. He was the boss.

That’s why he had so many guards outside of the VIP room. That’s why she was requested to wear a certain outfit. She was dancing for the boss.

“O-Oh, sorry, I — I didn’t know,” y/n said, still keeping her breast covered, but had lightened up her body, trying to relax more so she wouldn’t lose her job. Yes, she’s thought about escaping, but with the money. I’d he fired her and kicked her out, she wouldn’t get the money.

“All good, darling. Just wanting to surprise my favorite girl,” Logan said, hands softly grabbing her wrist to pull them away from her chest. She fought back for a second, but soon let him do what he wanted.

“Good girl — Too pretty to be coverin’ up in front of me,” he said as both of his hands cupped her chest, massaging them with kindness. He wanted her comfortable before he brought out the man he was.

“I-I know I work for you, b-but I don’t usually do this,” y/n stuttered as the man’s fingers pinched and played with both of her nipples slowly.

“Mhm hm,” he hummed, fixated on making something spark in her, and he soon did. A small moan escaped her mouth after she parted her lips. It was hard to hide how good his touch felt.

“Logan- Mister Howlett,” y/n corrected herself, trying to come out of respect, but it’s not like he’d get rid of her. She could punch him right now, and he’d keep her. He’d shit shows her the consequences of those actions.

“Can call me Logan, Bub,” the man said right before he latched his mouth around one of the girl's nipples. Y/n moaned lightly, hands flying to his hair to tug on, but not away.

“Oh, fuck,” was all she could say as she started on the man again. If this was another man, she would’ve been fought, but with him, she couldn’t bring himself to. He played with her too well.

Logan groaned onto the girl's chest, sensing vibrations through her body as his hands tried to her panties until he ripped them off clean, just like her bra.

“Gonna listen to your boss, baby?” Logan asked in between his sucks. “Y-Yes, sir,” she whined as she leaned her head back. “Good girl,” Logan groaned as he pulled back and shifted under her.

“You’re a tasty little thing, but still a hard ass,“ Logan said, making the girl's heart pump. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise,” y/n felt like she was begging, and she was. Who knew how much she actually needed this job, and how much she needed him.

“Oh, yes, you will, because you got a lot of making up to do for me,” Logan said as he finally got his cock out of his jeans. Y/n’s sucked in a low breath at the size and sight of him.

He was huge. He was hard. He was leaking. He was hurting. He’s needed y/n for a while, and she’s about to find that out. “Ride me, Bub,”

Y/n was hesitant, but managed to lift herself up, allowing Logan to shift his body under her so she was right aligned with him.

“Listen to me, baby, or you’ll regret it,” Logan quickly changed his attitude, which didn’t alarm y/n in a bad way. It was actually making her more wet than she already was.

“Y-Yes, sir,” she stuttered again before he slowly sunk down onto the man. “F-Fuck,” y/n quickly winced at the pain. He stretched her quicker than she’d ever been stretched before.

“That’s it, baby — Get me all in,” Logan placed his hands on her waist to guide her down quicker. Y/n clenched around the man. She even twitched.

“Ah huh,” the man breathed out as she finally got every inch of him inside of her with a slight eye cross. She had felt the knot in her stomach built in an instant.

“Start movin, Bub,” Logan spoke in a warning tone, making sure she knew he didn’t want to take any type of time with this. “I paid for this session,” the man added.

Y/n placed her hands back on the man’s shoulders to help herself before she began bouncing slowly. Cunt gripping his pulsing rock-hard cock as.

“Fuuck,” the man groaned as he threw his head back. “So fucking tight,” the man admitted as she whined. It didn’t take long for her wetness to coat his cock, allowing her to move on him smoother.

“Gonna keep you, baby. Not like I haven’t already,” Logan said as he leaned his head back up, watching y/n crumble on his lap.

“Gonna be my girl, baby? Officially? Some gotta work no more, only for me,” Logan said as a hand softly wrapped around her neck. “Mhm hm,” y/n accepted something she didn’t even think about.

“Yeah? Gonna be a good girl and stick by my side for the same pay?” He asked. “Yes,” y/n whined, but down, she didn’t care about the pay, and he could see that. He could read right through her.

“Money isn’t the prize for you though, now ain’t it, baby? You just wanna ride my cock until you go dumb,” Logan said, making her nod her head repeatedly.

“Oh, yeah,” the man groaned darkly as he planted his feet and began plunging up into the younger lady, making her take him far more than she could handle.

“Oh, fuck,” y/n cried as the grip on his shoulders tightened. “Good little girl — So damn pretty and obedient. Almost thought you hated me,” the man smirked up at her as she shook.

She did hate the man. That was until she realized how good-looking he was and how damn good his cock felt.

“So drunk on my cock, you’re forgetting I basically took you from your home,” the man fake pouted as he snapped his hips harder, allowing the room to fill with their skin clapping.

“I’m gonna cum, sir,” y/n warned, making him groan at how good she sounded calling him sir. “Good, baby. Cum on my cock. Soak my jeans. Show me who you belong to. Show me who I belong to,” Logan said, feeling his own orgasm near.

“Oh, yes — Yes, yes,” y/n cried out as she shook, letting loose all over the man with a loud moan. “That’s it! Fuckin’ cum on me, y/n. Cum!” The man’s grip on her neck and waist tightened, making y/n feel taken over. That feeling only made her mind foggy.

“Gonna fill you up, baby. You gonna like that? Gonna take it? — Tell me you’re gonna take it, baby,” Logan needed to hear her. “Gonna take it,” y/n could barely get out from how slow her mind was moving her the lack of air getting out of her throat. “Ah huh, ah huh!”

Logan brutally fucked the girl with a loud groan, spilling into her as she shook and went slack. He held her up though, making sure her half-opened eyes looked down at the man who now claimed he’d officially.

“Yes, baby,” the man couldn’t stop rutting into her. The pleasure only grew more as he heard her and his cum mixing together in her cunt. She was full, but he wanted to fill her more.

“Fuck, c’mere,” Logan said as he picked y/n up and threw her over his shoulder. He paid no attention to the state they were in and walked out of the VIP room.

“Cancel all appointments with y/n for tonight and any other night — Buy everything on the list I made all week so she’ll have something good to wake up to,” Logan said as he walked down the hallway and out of the back door that lead to other parts of the club.

Logan carried y/n to his room which was on the last floor of the large building. He knew she had questions to ask the whole way up, but all she could let out were whines.

Her cunt still leaked his cum, occasionally dropping down his arm as he stepped through his building. He fucked her well and planned to put her to sleep.

“Gonna wake up like a princess tomorrow morning, Bub,”

[kurzuha]

SOAKED

PAIRING brothers best friend!jake x fem!reader | wc: 3.7k

SYNOPSIS your brother’s best friend can never get you alone. that’s why he won’t miss an opportunity— even if your brother’s on the other side of the walls.

WARNINGS smut, smut under the influence, jealousy

NOTES i apologize for the writing! this is recycled from my nct blog @/taexoxosgf. It’s old and i’m too lazy to rewrite it 💁🏻‍♀️

“So, how’s your big bro’s parties? It’s better than frat parties huh?” Jay dangles the red cup charged with alcohol in front of your face just for you to swat away in annoyance. “No musty bathrooms and paint peeling off the walls! Woooooooo!” 

You’re going to have to have a jolly time cleaning his vomit in the morning. “Stop drinking you little shit. I’m not gonna take care of you tomorrow, just so you know.” 

He does a little dance that has you suppressing a laugh, “The night is still young!  Loosen up a little!  Won’t stop until you’re having as much fun as me!” Your brother is so out of it, that he bumps into a million corners of the home and an attendee urges him to the couch. 

“Actually… I’m not feeling so good,” he shushes the person helping before scurrying out of the main room. 

“Oh my god,” you pinch the sides of your nose bridge, unable to understand how Jay’s motto is always all or nothing. 

You're nothing near Jay's level of intoxication, and whether it's the devil on your shoulder or the drink, you want Jake.  Excruciatingly so.  Whoever claimed that drinking hypnotized you to act like a bitch in heat wasn't lying. It's more than true now that you know he's nearby– wanting to look for the focus of your thoughts because if he wasn't going to make a move tonight, you would.   

“Y/n?”  a familiar voice calls you, prompting you to turn around. 

“Hoon? Oh my god! How are you?” you’re instinctively bringing your arms out for a hug and he’s quick to immediately accept. 

You both went to high school together before he left for university thousands of miles away.  Sunghoon still texts you now and then, but due to the time difference, you both never had the opportunity to catch up properly.  

“Not doing too bad.  It’s so good to finally talk face-to-face babe, holy shit,” he chuckles.  

“How’s the East Coast?  Did you find a girlfriend at Columbia yet?” 

“Nah, you know me.  Girls there are way too preppy for me.  Plus, I can’t stand another minute of freshmen thinking they’re living through Gossip Girl,” he jokingly gags.

“Hey! Don’t hate.  That show was ahead of its time,” you raise a brow.

“It IS! But I’m talking about the people acting as if they were a part of the show themselves.  Like come on, you were probably five when it came out!” he exclaims.  

​​"Fair enough," you nod and an idea flashes across your mind as you speak. "You know who you should go for?" 

“Who?” he shifts closer, genuinely curious.  

You wave towards you as another way of telling him to step even closer and cup your hand behind his ear before whispering, “Jiwon.”

“What?! There’s no way!” he steps away, not expecting you would say your best friend’s name.  

“Come on! You guys would look so hot together!  What’s so ‘no way’ about that idea?” 

Your old friend momentarily pauses, like he didn’t know what kind of question you asked.  “She’d never go for me.”  

“What? She used to have a crush on you!  You were always around different girls so she never made a move,” you affirm.  “You know how she was in high school,” you remind him of the girl who was once afraid to step out of her comfort zone.  

“Are you serious? There’s no way that’s true! You’re straight up lying to my face right now,” he groans, looking as if he was going through a mental crisis due to the news.  

“I swear on my Loubitons that it’s true! Just talk to her,” you point to the back door. “She’s in the backyard.  I’m sure she would love to catch up.”

He brings a hand to his chin, soothingly rubbing with his index, “You do love those shoes…”  

“More than myself, so come on! The times ticking!” you press him further, and his eyes light up when he realizes the words you’re feeding him might actually be true.  

“You know what, fuck it.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Acting like a true alpha male!” you jump up and down, probably with more excitement than he has.  

He chuckles at your words, “Okay. Okay.  Let’s hang out and catch up this week.  Let me know when you’re free.” 

“Okay now go!” you try not to hold him back longer than he needs to be.  

“I”m go-” 

Before you can properly bid goodbye, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you away towards the narrow hallway of the home.  

You see it’s Jake after checking, and he’s definitely on a mission by the way he doesn’t utter a word.  Instead, he drags you through the hallway and finally halts his steps at the sign of your bedroom door.  

“Jake, what are you doing?” 

He doesn’t answer, he doesn’t let up on your wrist, and definitely doesn’t spare you a glance until you’re both in the room with the door shut behind your back.  It’s virtually pitch black in the room, and the only light source is the hallway lights illuminating underneath the crack of the door.  

Jake finally lets go of your wrist when it’s just you two in the small space, and he brings that same arm above your head to anchor himself.  

“Jake.”

“Y/n,” his voice comes out playfully hoarse.  This was just what you wanted.  He’s right here on a silver platter and you hadn’t even come close to building the courage to approach him first. 

Too bad you love to act dumb for the hell of it. 

“What are you doing?” your eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, noticing how close his face was to yours.  It was the perfect opportunity.  Jay was probably passed out along with the loud music all throughout the house.  There’s no way anyone could hear a thing from inside the room.

“Just wanted you to myself,” he comments.  You can smell the alcohol on his lips, assuming it was the reason behind his impatience– but don’t think he’s drunk due to his coherent speech and careful movements.  

“You have me to yourself now.  So what is it?” you gloat, acting as if you don’t notice how hard he’s pressing into the door behind you. 

“Sorry, I took you away from your little boyfriend.  Look’s like you guys were having fun,” the irritated tone of his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by you.  Even in the darkness, you can see the way he clenches his jaw following the statement. 

You roll your eyes in order to suppress a grin and the alcohol influences you to push even further,  “Hoon isn’t my boyfriend.  He’s just an old friend.  Remember him?”  

He notices the hint of playfulness in your eyes, wanting to just fuck it out of you.  But he’s waited too long to do this, and there have been too many interrupted moments, so he leans into patience for resolve.  “Oh, I must have missed something babe.”  

You shift your face closer to him to prove your point once again, “He calls everyone that!  Go up to him, he’ll literally call you babe.”

“Hmm,” Jake hums.  “Should I call him Hoon too?”  

Your eyes shoot to his plushy lips, his jealousy turning you on,  but you don’t back down just yet, “If you heard that, then you must’ve heard the part where I told him to go for Jiwon.”  

“I checked out the moment you were calling each other pet names, baby,” he leans his hips against you, eyes evident with desire even in the darkness.  

“Well, it’s definitely different coming from you,” you give him what he wants to hear, but it’s ultimately the truth.  

Jake pulls back just to lean down against your ear, “Different, how?” 

It’s like he knows the power he has over you when he’s using that tone, including the fact that you feel him between your legs only slightly hard.  It’s definitely bigger than you previously thought, the excitement shooting to your core,  “I’m not spelling it out for you, baby.” 

The name has him bringing his face back to where it was before, cocking a brow.  “Don’t do that.” 

“Don’t do what?” 

“Play games.  Don’t fuck with me because if you are, I’m gonna lose it,” he seethes, all control previously displayed being lost in an instant.  

You began narrowing the gap between the two of you even more, your noses brushing against each other.  Jake falters slightly as you do so, his hand landing on your hip.  He's noticeably less in control than when he initially encircled you in the room, taking in every inch of you as you jut your hips forward.  

He groans, struggling to keep up with what you've been doing.  

"I'm not fucking with you," you say, holding his chin with your thumb and index finger, tilting his head and maintaining eye contact. "Just giving you what you want Jaeyun."

Jake doesn’t know how you tempt while looking so innocent. If he’s being honest with himself, he never holds a sliver of command when you’re present.  “You’re hot as fuck,” he mutters.  

"You're hotter," you smile, and your lips nearly touch at the movement.  

“Don’t call me that name unless you can put your money where your mouth is.” 

“I know where I’d like to put my mouth,” you smirk and the ribbon of control Jake has been holding onto so dearly snaps.

You're grinning ear to ear, but it's short-lived when Jake grabs your nape and collides his lips on yours. You've never been kissed like this in your entire existence, and you simply want to drown in him. You press your mouth harder on his, and he responds by placing his entire weight against your body. The buzzing all over your body sobers you, and you notice the piercing on the corner of his mouth.

 The silver metal grazing over your lips provides a cold sensation to the scorching atmosphere, and you push down a moan at the feeling.  

He’s such a good kisser, it surprises you but doesn’t at the same time.  The boy you used to know was so different than the one in front of you now. 

When you set your arms around his neck to play with his locks, he grabs a hold of your waist. You're drowning, arching your back to relieve the tension in your body as the kiss deepens.  Jake licks your lips, and you easily accept his tongue. His tongue dances with yours, getting sloppier by the minute, ready to rip each other's clothes off.  

He taps the back of your leg with his hand, signaling for you to jump.  You do so without breaking contact with his lips, and he smiles against yours.  The taste of alcohol in his mouth ignites something within you, along with the scent of his washed hair intertwined with the cologne he’s wearing.

Jake slowly sets you down against the mattress, slotting himself between your legs before he pulls back for air. “You look submissive as fuck right now.  Is that what you’re into?  Being dominated?” he purrs, fingers playing with the waistline of your pants.  

“Only if you like to dominate.”  

The switch in his head flips, and he uses one hand to unzip your jeans to slowly run his fingers over your clothed clit.  Your toes curl at the sudden pressure to your sensitive core that's been begging to be touched.  The thin material of your panties doesn’t do much to shield his touch, but one thing’s for sure, if it feels this good, you can’t imagine how it’d feel when it’s not just a tease.

“Fuck,” you pant, moving your hands underneath Jake’s shirt.  

“What?” he asks, moving down to your neck.  The sensation of his warm tongue against your neck has your skin igniting goosebumps all over.  “I can’t hear you.  Already falling apart?”  

“N-no,” you stutter, knowing damn well that anything done to you will be the actual end.  It seems like he wants to win the moment he brings his red and swollen lips back onto yours, sparing any niceties.  He’s smothering you, ruthlessly kissing you to no end.  But when you become lost in his lips once again,  Jake slips his hand underneath the band of your underwear to touch your pussy head-on. 

“Jake,” you whine against his mouth. 

Of course, he doesn’t let up, circling your bud, knowing exactly where to touch you even though this is the first time you’ve done this with him. It’s nothing, but feels like so much, your thighs attempting to close around his hand.  

He’s still attacking your mouth with his, fingers trailing in an up-and-down motion between your folds.  It surprises you, and you moan against his mouth, unable to maintain the same pattern with your lips. “Fuck, you’re already so wet,” he lets go of your mouth with a pop, groaning at the arousal coating his fingers.  

“Please, Jake. I need you,” you whimper, unable to take any more of the mere seconds of pleasure he’s giving you. You don’t even look down as he slides your pants off along with your panties in one motion. He tsks, lowly enunciating a small, “So impatient.” 

Without anything in the way, he doesn’t waste time plunging his fingers into your pussy, groaning at the way the muscle tightly clamps around his fingers– and it shoots straight down to your core, never getting enough of how deep his voice is.  

The pleasure you’ve been trying to grasp is finally reached, a gasp spilling from your lips once he curls his fingers inside you.  Your hands have found their way to his back, fingers digging deep into his skin and he hisses at the slight pain.  

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs against your ear while his fingers begin to speed up in pace.  You’re bucking your hips up, wanting to meet him halfway in order to reach euphoria.  “I w-want it,” you cry.  

“Want what?” he asks, voice too soft for the motions he’s enacting.  

“Want you.  Want you so bad,” you moan, throwing your head back when he hits a certain spot.  It feels too good to stop, and every part of your body tingles at the pleasure. 

You want to sob at the feeling it brings you, his fingers, mercilessly driving in and out of your cunt, while his thumb circles your clit. Your stomach feels tight from all the stimulation, and his body pressed against yours makes you feel hot all over.  What you don’t notice is Jake’s watching every movement on your facial features, loving the way your brows scrunch and how your pretty lips open up every time he hits a certain spot.  

The band in your lower abdomen is on the verge of snapping, and the fact that he's above you doesn't help.  Jake's hair still falls perfectly, occasionally brushing the tip of his nose.  He’s so fucking hot, you can’t hold back.  You can't stop the orgasm from reaching your body simply by the way he feels on your body and looks above you.  

“P-please,” you beg. 

At the feeling of your pussy tightening around your fingers,  he digs into your cheek, bringing your face back towards his.  “Come on, you can do it.  Cum,” he demands.  

“F-fuck! I-I’m gonna–” you scream, body convulsing as your orgasm washes over you.  He doesn’t stop his movements until you’re whining for him to stop.  Pulling his coated fingers out, just to bring it to his lips.  

As the climactic high wears off, your body becomes limp, but the image of Jake bringing his plump lips to wrap around his fingers leaves you wanting more.  You nearly squeak when he groans at the taste, letting go of his fingers with a pop. "Mmm," Jake moans.  "You taste so good."

“Here, have a taste baby,” he smirks, bringing those same digits to swipe motions at your core. You whimper at the sensitivity, the buzzing feeling still present. “Open,” he commands.  

You listen, sticking out your tongue for him to insert them into your mouth.  The wet muscle swirls around his fingers, finally closing around them, and you gag when he presses further into your mouth, teasing your throat.  “Good girl.” 

It’s so arousing that you intend to get up from your original position beneath him, but he catches your wrists and pins them over your head to keep you in place.  Maybe it's the unfulfilled horniness from all the other times he’s tried to get you under him, but it's got you whining and squirming beneath him for his tolerance.  “Fuck, it’s like you knew this was gonna happen,” he murmurs, not taking his eyes off your body.  

His hot breath fans against your face, “Did you?” He begins to trace the contours of your body, slipping underneath your shirt on his way up.  “No,” it’s a weak response, body twitching when he starts massaging your breasts.  You had just experienced an unearthly orgasm, but every action of his causes your cunt to clench around nothing, and it’s only once out of a million times since he walked through the door.  

“Just fuck me,” you plead, feeling his thick cock prodding at the side of your thigh.  

“You sure?” he asks once more for confirmation.

“Yes, now hurry,” your whine turns into a pout, and he chuckles at your impatience.  

“Do you have a condom in your room?”

“Fuck no, I’m on birth control.”  He groans at the information, already quick to tug his cock out of its confines.  

And just like that, Jake slowly inches his cock into you. “Oh,” you cry at the fullness.  He’s stretching you out so well, and the slight burn just adds fuel to the fire.  

“Holy shit,” he sighs.  “You’re so tight,” to ease the tightness, his fingers are already making their way back to your bud, circling in slow motions, “Relax for me pretty.” 

You nod, eyes rolling back into your head when he slowly begins to move.  “Fffuck,” he curses, his grip moving to your waist the moment your legs instinctively wrap around his.  He feels so fucking good inside you and you regret with every ounce of your being you both didn’t do this sooner.  You should’ve jumped him when you had the chance because fuck.  How are you going to stop now?  “You feel so fucking good,” he groans at the sensation.  

“J–ake,” you moan, “Faster.”  Your walls clench around his hard cock dragging against your walls, speeding up in pace and you fully lose it. The lewd sounds of skin slapping echo through the bedroom, and Jake just swallows your pour of moans.  He eventually listens to your request, practically nailing you into the mattress.  It feels so good,  the sounds coming from him, the feel of his cock pulling out, leaving the tip, just to roughly thrust back inside.  You don’t know how much more you can take.  

The thin silver chain he always wears around his neck dangles right before your eyes, and even in your fucked out state, you can’t stop looking at him.  The sweat on his forehead causes the front pieces to stick, the glow of sex already peeking through.  “This is what you get,” he spits, but you can tell he’s slightly holding back. “This is what you get for all the times you fucking ran away.  When I could’ve fucked you dumb like you want.” 

Jake’s name was the only thing coherent as he drills into you, squealing at a particular thrust of his hips.  He’s so deep inside you, tip faintly against your cervix.  “You’re cock’s s-so big,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision.  The higher the tension builds in your stomach, the more Jake continues to destroy you.  “Jake, fuck!”

“You like it hard huh?  Want me to make your pussy mine?”  His dirty words only have you holding onto him tighter, digging the heel of your feet into his spine. It’s too bad you can’t respond, your brain a puddle of mush at this point, cock going too fast for you to think about anything else.  The bed frame knocks against the walls as the bed shakes but there’s no room to worry about that.  Especially when he’s hitting every spot inside you perfectly.  

“Answer me,”  he grunts as your moans grow higher in pitch, unable to take it much longer.  

“Y-yes, it’s a-all yours,” your body jolts after every movement, carving pleasure all over his skin. The thread that holds on for dear life is on the verge of snapping, and you wail before your second orgasm can send you crashing down.  

It was so easy for Jake to slide in and out of your pussy, your dripping arousal coating his cock perfectly.  “Ja–” you attempt to warn him, but he already made his way back to your clit, pressing rough circles.  You begin to babble random sounds,  unable to form coherent words when he’s impaling you.  

“Yes!” A shriek tears itself from your throat at your orgasm, and your toes curl at the high that takes over you yet again tonight. Your body spasms, and your mind stuck in a haze when he continues stuffing your achy cunt with him.  

“Holy shit,” it’s almost impossible for Jake to keep going when you’re clamping down on him like a vice, keeping him from completely being able to leave. 

“Inside, cum inside, Jake,” you plead when his hips begin to stutter.  After a few more thrusts, he fully moans, painting your insides. “Fuck,” It feels even more full than before, if that was even possible and you whimper from the overstimulation from the last few movements.  After his orgasm is at its resolution, he slumps into your form, not bothering to pull out. 

You’re both just lying there trying to catch your breath, and it’s somewhat serene.  The music combined with the vague sound of murmurs could be heard from outside and that’s when you remember that there were indeed a bunch of individuals present too.  Maybe they heard you guys fucking, and Jake seems to have similar thoughts when he raises his head to murmur something.  “I forgot to lock the door.” 

Your eyes shoot wide open in response, “What? Are you serious?  Someone could walk in to you butt-ass naked!”  

You’re actually alarmed, but he just stares back at you, his mouth turning into a wide grin. “Nah, I’m just playin',” he laughs. 

You chuckle along with him, playfully slapping his shoulder because of his unseriousness.  “You’re so annoying.” 

“Get used to it baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

[wosohours]

i missed you - alexia putellas x reader

Alexia arrived at training in a sour mood with a pout on her face, the same pout that had been seen on her face frequently throughout the last three weeks.

“What’s wrong Capi? Your girl still hasn’t come back yet?” Mapi teased when she saw Alexia’s face. Alexia roller her eyes slightly shoving Mapi out of the way to get to her locker, “No, she will be there for four more days.” she sighed.

You had been gone for almost a month on a business trip out of the country. This is the longest you and Alexia have been apart since you two got together four years ago. Even when Alexia had to travel for major tournaments or national camp you would always try to be present at the games. Although this time it was you who was away and Alexia could not just ditch training and games to be with you.

Hence the reason for the almost permanent pout being stuck on the Catalan woman’s face for three weeks. Of course this is not the first business trip you have ever been on or the first time you and Alexia have been away from each other for a while, but being gone for more than a couple of days started to take a toll on Alexia. Little did she know it was starting to take a toll on you as well but with being constantly busy working you tried not to think about it as much.

Alexia did not want to seem clingy, obsessed, or act like she was heavily dependent on you, but to go from being attached to the hip everyday with someone to them not being around at all kind of threw her off a bit.

She did not realise how involved you were in each other’s daily lives and routines. Going to sleep and waking up alone sucked. Brushing her teeth alone was boring. Showering alone, of course, sucked. The first week you were gone she kept accidentally making two cups of coffee. She even tried to make the breakfast you make for her the same way, but it just did not taste right.

____________________

“The days will pass by soon, just think of it as…four more sleeps,” Patri chimed in across the room. “Yeah, four more ‘sleeps’ alone,” Alexia sulked, lacing up her boots.

“Okay Ale no more pouting, time to train,” Mapi walks over pulling Alexia up from her seat.

During training, Alexia was usually able to turn her brain off and do what she needed to do, but since her normal routine has been flipped upside down all this time and the anticipation of seeing you again weighed heavy on her might, she could not help but get distracted.

So much so that the amount of passes, easy shots, and penalties she was missing earned her concerned glances from her teammates and staff. Alexia understood their concern, they had El Clásico coming in two days, and messing up on easy drills was not looking good.

So she pushed through the rest of practice, showered, did her recovery, and left towards her car so she could get home and call you.

____________________

When Alexia arrived home she immediately jumped in bed and called you on FaceTime, “Hola bebé, I miss you so much.”

“Hola mi amor, I miss you too. How was training?” You asked her while propping your phone up so you two could see each other better.

Alexia groaned and smashed her head into your pillow before she looked up again, “It was terrible bebé I was missing everything, and on one of the set pieces I kicked the ball at Mapi’s back, and this time it wasn’t on purpose.”

That got a loud laugh out of you and Alexia thought about how she could not wait to hear it in person again. After you stopped laughing Alexia asked you about your trip and how work was going. You told her how great it was, how much fun you were having, and how special it was for you to be in the leadership position of the project.

“ I am very proud of you mi amor no one deserves this more than you and clearly the company thinks the same,” she told you with a small yawn.

“Thank you, baby. I appreciate it. Though I thought about you a lot, and it also made me think that maybe we needed this,” you said, causing Alexia’s eyes to shoot open.

Before she could respond you continued, “I know you are about to jump to conclusions but I mean that it is a good and healthy thing for our relationship. You know the saying ‘Distance makes the heart grow fonder.’ It made me stop and think about how much I love and appreciate you and the love that we have for each other.”

“You’re right, I didn’t think that far into it. I just thought about how much I miss you and that I can’t wait to have you by my side again.” Alexia replied, fighting to keep her eyes open.

“I’m going to let you sleep now, I love you and see you in a couple of days.” you told her. Alexia blew you a kiss through the phone, “I love you too, see you in four days.”

____________________

You had told Alexia the truth about how you had been thinking about her a lot. You two were very independent people when you first started dating and even now four years later, but in the last couple of months something had shifted between you and now you could not get enough of each other.

Now where you did not correct her was when she said “...see you in four days.” You were already at the airport staying in one of those convenient airport hotels waiting to get on your flight leaving for Barcelona in just a couple of hours. You texted Alba and Eli and told them your flight information letting them know what time you would be landing. Alba had agreed to pick you up and Eli would be sort of distracting Alexia from thinking of you all day.

The plan was to get to Barcelona a day early and stay with Alba so you could rest and the next day you would be attending El Clásico with the plan of surprising Alexia.

Checking the time on your phone you realize that you should get some sleep to prepare for your long travel day.

____________________

“Hola hermanaaa,” Alba cheered as you walked out of the airport with your luggage. “Hola Alba,” you laugh, letting go of your suitcases to give her a big hug.

“We have all missed you so very much, mami is making us all have dinner together at her place tomorrow so that we can all catch up and you can tell us about your trip,” she says, grabbing one of your suitcases and putting it in her car.

“That sounds great. I missed you all as well, your mama's cooking even more though,” you laugh as she rolls her eyes.

You both finally sit in the car and start the drive to Alba’s apartment, where you will be catching up on some sleep until the game tomorrow.

____________________

“Do you need a shirt or did you already pack ten for your trip?” Alba joked as you two started getting ready for the game. You were texting Alexia your usual, “Good Morning,” so that she would not get suspicious when you looked up hearing Alba speak.

“Haha, you’re so funny, but no I already have one,” you say, showing her the jersey with Alexia’s name and number on the back.

“Ouu and a special game worn one at that. I should’ve known, you are never without one,” she teases, shaking her head.

“I’m done getting ready. Are you ready to go now?” you ask, making Alba nod and grab her bag and keys so that you two can leave.

____________________

As you two were making your way to the entrance of the stadium you spotted Alexia and Alba’s mother and uncle already standing there waiting for you two. Everyone exchanges greetings and hugs before heading to their seats.

While you and Alexia’s family made small talk waiting for the game to start, Alexia was sitting in the locker room getting ready thinking about how this was the first El Clásico you would miss since you two got together.

“Are you ready Ale?” Mapi asked. Alexia looked up and gave her a nod and a small smile. Before Alexia could tie her boots she received a text notification from you.

“Don’t worry I’m watching. You’ll be great. I love you.”

She texted back, “Thank you. I love you more.”

This relaxed her a bit. Knowing that even though you were not physically here you would always support her no matter where you were. With that small boost of reassurance, Alexia stood up and clapped to get her team’s attention so that she could give her speech before the game.

____________________

When the girls started walking out you and everyone else stood up and started cheering. You were hoping to get Alexia’s attention but you know that she was focused on the game. The start of the game was entertaining as usual with both teams doing their best to score early and gain a lead, but with both teams holding their own it was 0-0 by the time half-time came.

As the girls were walking back to the locker room you and Alexia’s family tried once again to get her attention since you knew Alexia usually looked up at the family section when half-time was called. Sure enough, she heard her name being called and looked up to see her family there with you standing and cheering right next to them like you always did.

She could not believe that you were here when she was sure that you still had four more days of work in a whole different country. After she shook the disbelief off of her face she waved at all of you and slyly blew a kiss in your direction, which you pretended to catch.

In the locker room, Alexia could not hide the smile on her face. “Did you see your girl in the stands Capi?” Patri asked, grabbing her shoulder slightly, shaking her. “Looks like she couldn’t wait to see you either, Ale,” Mapi said, making Alexia blush.

After the half-time break was over the girls went back out with a little more fire earning them a goal from Frido, Aitana, and Caroline. Two goals being assisted by Alexia. Ending the game at 3-0.

Since the game was over the team did their rounds taking pictures and signing autographs. Alexia looked up at her family and nodded her head in the direction of the tunnel signaling them to make their way down there. Once Alexia was done she made her way to the tunnel and met with her family and she gave everyone hugs and kisses until she got to you.

“Oh mi amor I missed you so much, I can’t believe you here right now,” Alexia says pulling you into a tight hug laying kisses all over your face and the side of your head. “I also can’t even believe that you kept a secret from me, usually you spill faster than Mapi,” she teased, tickling your sides.

You laughed moving away from her a bit just for her to pull you back in, “I know it took a lot of willpower for me not to just give up and tell you, but when have I ever missed an El Clásico?” you asked her, holding her face in your hands.

“Never,” Alexia answered with a big smile.

“Okay, we know you too are in love and all, but Ale please go take a shower so that we can go eat,” Alba tells her. Eli softly slaps Alba on the arm and pulls her away.

“Yea go shower you stink, I will wait right here,” you tell her. Alexia rolls her eyes and nods before laying a soft kiss on your lips before going back into the locker room to take a shower.

____________________

You ended up riding back to Eli’s house with Alexia where you let her tell you all about the game, even though you were there. Her hand on your thigh the whole ride, you both stealing kisses at every red light. She thought she was slick taking the long way there but you had noticed and you were okay with it.

When you finally made it to the house, Eli was still finishing dinner so everyone sat around the kitchen and talked to keep her company while she finished. As dinner was served you started telling them all about your trip and the project you were working on. The whole time Alexia was not able to take her eyes and hands off of you, but it did not bother you because you were acting the same.

After dinner you all sat around the living room talking some more when Alexia whispered in your ear, “Are you ready to go home?” You nod your head and kiss her cheek.

When finished making your rounds to say goodbye to everyone and thanking Eli for the delicious dinner, you and Alexia head home.

____________________

When you two walk through the doors of your shared home Alexia pulls you into her arms and says, “I am never letting you out of my sight again.”

“I am so okay with that,” you reply, shoving your face in her neck to lay small kisses.

“Now let’s go to sleep, I know you miss me laying on top of you like your personal weighted blanket,” she says, making you laugh and follow her to the bedroom.

____________________

note: not sure i really like this 💀

also, i fight for my life not to say “yall” at least 20+ times

[itachiiwrites]

Love me, love me, love me, love me more!

Pairing: Yandere! Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings and Content: MDNI (I'll haunt you, seriously), yandere themes, dubious consent, stalking, obsession, murder, gore, sex, delusional satoru, he's unhinged and does not care about consequences as usual, creampies (lots), gojo has a breeding kink, masturbation, perv gojo, sex, fingering. Dead dove.

Plot : Megumi has a new nanny and Satoru is so so..lovesick.

Yandere!Satoru knew he fumbled the moment he fell in love with Megumi's nanny. He had hired you because he couldn't provide for the time and sufficient emotional care that a second grader needed to be a normal person. After all that the boy went through and then being under care of someone like him, Satoru didn't think that his Gumi-chan would ever be normal.

But then he met you, you were everything he was not. Gojo Satoru was impulsive, eccentric, the strongest, he shone so brightly that the sun was put to shame. And you were so normal, so mundane, you simply seemed to blend in with everyone like a lovely, plain chrysanthemum that could mix in with every bouquet.

there was truly nothing special about you in comparison to him.

Perhaps that was why he found you so beautiful. You weren't complicated, you were too simple and perhaps this absence of simplicity was what made his fast paced, glorious life so lack luster.

He knew he had to have you.

One thing you realised about Yandere!Satoru is that, he is a child in a grown man's body. You had seen him being much more petulant than Megumi, but with time your surmises around him had reduced and your edges had softened. You would see the flash of tiredness in his eyes sometimes, something about those azures in those moments would tell you a piece of his story. You didn't ask a lot but you knew. He was tired.

Being a full-time nanny to Megumi also meant, keeping meal preps ready. It had become a habit to put together a few extras after noticing that Gojo would often make it a point to eat them. He probably ate it, dead in the night when he was back from his daily missions. No one witnessed his joy of eating a homecooked meal at 3AM.

Yandere!Satoru who would take the advantage of your softened demeanor towards him and flirt with you shamelessly even after seeing the ring adorned on your pretty little finger. He kept affirming to himself that it wasn't real and whatever he would imagine, would materialize to be true.

"You do a terrific job, looking after Megumi you know?" He'd muse, in the usual teasing tone of his as his hand trails to your chin, gently tipping your head up so you'd look into his eyes and his eyes only, his gaze intense and unwavering.

"I can't help but wonder if there is room in your heart for me too~"

But then his playful demeanor would drop away when his eyes would fall onto that pathetic, miserly looking gold band after you'd tell him to stop flirting with you with finality in your tone. That ring wasn't even high in carats, it was an alloy and yet you would it wear it such pride. It would tug at his heartstrings, his darling deserved so much better.

"I see, didn't realize that, miss.." He lied through his teeth with such insouciance and a smirk, masking his disappointment as if even a petite speck on your arm would be amiss with his six eyes

Yandere!Satoru, who was never religious but started obsessively manifesting you after learning about your husband. What a hassle. Why couldn't he just have you, like everything else in his life?

Yandere!Satoru who would think of you riding him to tears, closing his eyes to conjure the lewd image of your tits bouncing as he fucked you upward, anchoring his large hands on your waist. All while zestfully fisting his cock, wrapped like a gift with your cute pink panties that he quite subtly stole when you were staying over to care for Megumi for a few days because he had to fly somewhere else to tackle off a special grade curse, substituted for the warmth of your velvety walls. For now.

Yandere!Satoru who knew you had no clue that he teleported from the location far away just to steal your panties.

Yandere!Satoru who also knew that you had no idea that he had tapped in your phone, having his hawking watch over who you texted and talked to.

Yandere!Satoru who couldn't be nonchalant anymore the minute he saw you texting your husband as you watched over Megumi, on how badly you wanted a baby after being a nanny to the young boy. That was his job, you were his, afterall.

Yandere!Satoru who felt angry and stupid because manifesting you didn't work. He knew he could never trust the higher powers with the people he loved so he took the matter in his own hands.

Yandere!Satoru who stood over your husband's dead body, ripped to shreds when you returned home. The worries of your husband not texting you back for hours now washed with horror and pain.

His handsome, angelic face was unnervingly calm and composed, his blue eyes amalgamated with mania and hollowness while he held her husband's filthy heart in his bloodied hands, a scowl of disgust washing over his face as he looked at the organ, darting his eyes at you almost pitifully, crushing it in a glimpse before walking to you.

"What a shame..your husband was quite bothersome, wouldn't you say? I had to take out the trash, y'know..got sick of him getting in the way" He'd speak in a smooth, saccharinely affectionate tone that you knew was empty. He ignored the shock laced on your face, the paleness of your skin, the fear in your eyes and your flinch which he found oh so..adorable, as he caressed your cheek with the strong metallic scent of crimson lingering.

"Let's play a game!" He brightly smiled, clapping his hands together which made you furrow your brows, a dry gulp going down your throat. The room only filled with the momentary sounds of his footsteps and your shaky, palpable breathing.

"The game is...name things you love about Gojo Satoru!!" He chimed, so happily that it sent a shiver down your spine, insinuating nausea.

"S-stay away..."

He frowned, titling his head as his empty eyes bored into yours.

"Wrong answer darling..the answer is Satoru, isn't it..?" He leaned in, cupping your face and tenderly kissing your lips.

Yandere!Satoru who teleported you two immediately to his estate as he pulled away from the kiss, your back hitting the silk sheets that screamed luxury.

Yandere!Satoru who would see you giving in to his gentle kisses all over your body, who'd feel your pulsating guilt and shame in your eyes while your pussy pulsated with pleasure having his fingers in your gushing cunt knuckles deep.

"Why did you say no to me, hm..? You're milking my fingers baby..fuuuck...I love you so much.." He whispered while his face nuzzled into your cheek. His hot breath mingled with phrases of love felt so gross, so filthy, so sinful but you saw yourself liking it, even after seeing your husband in such a state.

Yandere!Satoru, who'd dump his cum again in your oozing pussy even when his cock felt raw after kissing your cervix so many times, painting it white. Now finally pulling out with a squelch, he immediately replaced his two thick fingers to push his load back in.

"You're gonna be such a pretty mama baby..I will make your wish come true.."

©𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

Plagiarism not authorised. Please consider reblogging and liking if you enjoyed the content :)

More on m.list!

[pomefioredove]

housewardens + Jamil and Floyd with a reader that plays volleyball please

I think of reader as yuu, but it's not needed to be specified, and NRC doesn't really have volleyball as one of the sports that I know of. so whether it's not a thing in their world or just not at their school, I think it'd be cool to see how the characters react to the reader playing during gym, free time, or for some outside of school club or whatever. it'd be amazing if reader could be a libero, because that's my position, but it doesn't have to be specified

but like, js imagine reader is yuu and so they taught one of the students how to play bc it's not at NRC amd now they play literally whenever they can

I don't know anything about volleyball but I tried 🫡🫡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ volleyball player reader

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jamil, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

am I crazy to think that Riddle would be into it? seeing as he's somewhat of an athlete himself (equestrian club), he knows the sort of discipline and dedication it takes to truly master a sport

he'll offer to help you organize an ~official~ club, but you don't seem too bothered about it. he finds it endearing that you can wake up in an entirely different world, almost die every other month, and still have the motivation to pursue what you love, anyway

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you'd better be careful around Leona, or you'll end up at morning Spelldrive practice in his place (hehe)

so, you don't have any magic. and? you know how to throw and catch, and that's good enough for him. hell, you're better than most of the magical first years. plus, you're motivated, you're responsible, and Leona Savanaclaw could use someone like you around

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

when Azul sent the tweels to dig up some dirt on you, he wasn't expecting this. like, okay, he underestimated you. he was hoping for something more... exploitable. if only he had a use for volleyball...

oh, well. you're still worth watching, currently useful or not. athletic skill is nothing to sneeze at, especially from a native land-dweller. he might need those legs of yours someday, you know

...wait, that came out wrong

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

no one really bothers looking for Floyd when he doesn't show up to basketball club. not because they don't care, but because it's not worth the time. if he really doesn't want to be found, you just won't find him

of course, the one day Jamil has to leave club early, he walks in on the two of you in the courtyard, playing volleyball

all this time, Floyd had been skipping club to watch you play another ball game just a few minutes away. he's absolutely captivated, too. like a cat with a laser pointer

as unamused as he is, Jamil knows it's absolutely useless to lecture him, so he just... sits and watches you play, too

and, well... he gets it. you're an interesting person, you know?

after that, he figures you may as well join the basketball club

...if only to give you a better place to practice, and to keep Floyd indoors

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

bro if you asked, Kalim would have an entire court built for you. actually, you wouldn't even have to ask. just one mention about how NRC has no volleyball club, and he'd have a team just for you by noon

if you refuse, he's still supportive. and really, really fascinated. he's not as much of an athlete as you or Jamil, which just makes it all the more impressive to him. he'll ask you to explain the game and your position over and over again, even while watching you play

he also just likes hearing your voice, so :)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

if there's anything Vil can admire, it's dedication. another thing? passion. being an athlete, or, really, having any serious hobby, demands both of those things

here's the thing; he could already tell. he didn't have to stumble across you during practice (as if he would stumble at all smh). your form, the way you carry yourself, even parts of your personality were context enough

and while he may not say it, he holds a high opinion of you. you can legit get out of VDC training by just saying you're going to practice

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you may think that Idia isn't going to go for the jock type, but, actually, one of his favorite animes is about volleyball and-

yeah, yeah. you get it. he's smitten

if he ever gets over his crushing fear of talking to you, you'll never get him to shut up. seriously. he already knows everything there is to know about the game, but that doesn't mean he's not going to ask you to explain everything all over again (he's totally fangirling over this). and sevens forbid you give him a demonstration...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

there's probably not volleyball in Briar Valley. right. I just can't picture that. so the first time Malleus observes you in practice, he's amazed, fascinated even. and he has a lot of questions. good ones!

you could probably convince him to play with you, which would be, uh. interesting? actually he's weirdly an amazing player

you could get all of Diasomnia to form a team, somehow. like I know they'd be abnormally good at it

[aceyalonso]

that's the thing about illicit affairs - OSCAR PIASTRI

pairing : ex!oscar piastri x fem!reader ↳ slight lando x fem!reader at the end

summary : a maid of honor and a groom that she knows all too well, only one of them gets their happy ending.

warnings : swearing, drinking, fighting, relationship issues, mentions of settling down, marriage, majority of story takes place in 2027

word count : 6.5k

song : illicit affairs - taylor swift

a/n : happy 400 followers with a not so happy post! and a special ty to @iamred-iamyellow for convincing me to write this <3

September 10th, 2024

Y/n lifted her head from Oscar's chest, shifting her position to look at him directly. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking. "Have you ever thought about getting engaged or married someday?"

Oscar's expression turned slightly cautious as Y/n asked the question. He paused for a moment, thinking about it. Finally, he responded, "Well... I haven't really given it much though, to be honest. I've been focused on our relationship and enjoying our time together."

He shifted a bit on the couch, now sitting up straight. His gaze remained fixed on Y/n as he continued. "Why do you ask? Is it something you've been thinking about?"

Y/n nodded, a mild sense of disappointment showing on her face at the realization that Oscar hadn't seriously thought about it yet. "I was just wondering. It's something that's been on my mind for a while."

The conversation turned into a more serious tone as the topic escalated to an argument. The initial lighthearted mood was replaced with tension and disagreement between Y/n and Oscar.

Y/n's frustration began to show on her face, her voice getting slightly louder. "I don't understand why you haven't thought about it yet. We've been together for 3- Almost 4 years, Oscar."

Oscar's initial surprise at the escalation of the argument slowly turned to frustration as well. He responded, his voice rising slightly as well. "It's not that I don't want to marry you, it's just... I don't know if I'm ready for it yet. The thought of getting engaged or married is a huge commitment.

Y/n scoffed a bit, her agitation growing. "I know it's big commitment. But that's exactly why it's important to discuss it and be on the same page about our future. I need to know what we agree and don't agree on!"

Oscar sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't want you to feel like I'm avoiding the topic, but it feels like you're putting pressure on me to make this decision. I just need more time to think about it, alright?"

Y/n crossed her arms, clearly dissatisfied with Oscar's response. She lets out a huff before responding. "More time? We've been together for years, and still need more time to think about it? How much more time do you need?"

Oscar's irritation grew at Y/n's response. He raised his voice slightly, matching her heightened tone. "I understand that we've been together for a long time, but that doesn't mean I have to be ready to get engaged or married right now. And constantly pressuring me about it isn't going to make ready any faster.

Y/n shot back with a bit more heat in her words. "I'm not trying to pressure, I just want some clarity about our future. It's not unreasonable to expect some form of commitment after being together for this long. You make it sound like you're not even sure if you want to marry me at all!"

Oscar's expression hardened at Y/n's accusation. "That's not fair. You know I love you, and I don't doubt our relationship. But marriage is a big step, and I want to be absolutely certain that we're both ready and willing to commit to it for the rest of our lives."

Y/n let out an exasperated sigh, feeling increasingly frustrated. "I understand that, but I feel like you're keeping me in limbo. You can't ask for more time without giving me some assurances that you do see a future with me. I need some sort of confirmation that we're on the same page here."

Oscar let out a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "Okay, look, I do see a future with you. I do want to be with you for the rest of my life, alright? I just need more time to mentally prepare for the idea of getting engaged or married. It's a lot to process all at once."

Y/n relaxed slightly at Oscar’s reassurance, but their concerns still lingered on their face. “That’s good to hear, but it’s still not enough for me. I need more than just words. I need some kind of proof that you’re serious about our future together.”

Oscar, now clearly irritated, threw his hands up in desperation. “What more assurance do you need? I just told you that I see a future with you and that I love you. What else could you possibly want from me? A written guarantee? A legal contract?”

Y/n, equally frustrated, shot back with an aggressive tone. “No, I don’t need a written contract. I just need some sort of action, some steps towards making our future together a reality. You keep telling me you’re sure about us, but then you hesitate when it comes to actually making a commitment.”

The argument continued to escalate, both Y/n and Oscar becoming more frustrated and emotional. Y/n’s voice continued to raise, their words now filled with frustration and hurt. “I can’t believe you’re still making excuses. I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one who wants to take our relationship to the next level. You keep stalling, and it makes me question if you really want to marry me at all!”

Oscar, in his frustration and anger, snapped back with a hurtful remark. “You know what, if you keep acting like this, maybe I won’t marry you at all! At least I'll be free from you and your stupid neediness!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. The pain and shock on Y/N’s face were evident, and he knew he had crossed a line.

Y/n stood up from the sofa, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke. "Fine, if that's really what you want, then it won't happen. If you don't see a future with me, if you don't want to marry me, then there's nothing more to discuss."

Y/n, moving with purpose, made her way to the bedroom. There, she hastily grabbed a suitcase from the closet and began stuffing it with clothes and essentials. A sense of anger and determination filled her actions, her emotions still heightened from the argument.

Meanwhile, Oscar followed behind, trying to stop Y/n form leaving. He entered the bedroom and pleaded with her, his voice filled with regret and desperation. "Where are you going? You can't just leave like this!"

Y/n snapped back at him, her voice still angry and strained. "I can and I will. You just made it clear that you don't see a future with me. What am I supposed to do? Stay and keep hoping that someday you'll change your damn mind?!"

Oscar, his emotions conflicting, tried to find the words to convince Y/n to stay. "I didn't mean it. I was just so frustrated and angry, I didn't what I was saying. Please, don't go. We need to talk this through."

Y/n, who was still packing her suitcase, paused for a moment to look at Oscar. "There's nothing more to talk about. You said what you said, and I heard it loud and clear. You don't see a future with me, so what's the fucking point?"

Pausing once more in the midst of packing, looked directly at Oscar. "When we first started dating, I made it clear that I wanted to settle down one day. I was upfront about my expectations, and you knew what I wanted. Yet, here we are, years later, and you're still not ready for that commitment.

Oscar, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration, responded defensively. "I know I haven't been ready yet, but I told you I need more time. That doesn't mean I never want to marry you. It just means I'm not ready right now."

Y/n, now fully packing their suitcase, shot back with a hint of sarcasm. "Right, because waiting endlessly for you to make up your mind is so fun. You've had years, Oscar. How much more time do you need? A decade? A lifetime?"

Oscar, starting to get frustrated again, tried to defend himself. "You're acting like I'm doing this on purpose! I'm not stalling or avoiding the issue. I just need more time to figure things out. I have to be sure about such a big commitment!"

Y/n zipped up her suitcase, expression hard and uncompromising. "Spare me the excuses, Oscar. You've had ample time to reflect and consider. And here I am, still waiting for you to make a move. Your inability to make a decision speaks volumes, and I refuse to continue wasting my time, hoping for something you're not even ready to give."

Y/n, now walking out of the bedroom with suitcase in tow, was stopped in her tracks by Oscar's gentle yet firm on her free wrist. As she turned to look at him, he called out to her with a pleading tone. "Baby, wait. Don't go. Let's talk about this. Please."

Y/n looked him in the eye with a mixture of hurt and anger. "Don't call me 'baby'. You don't get to use endearments on me now. You lost that privilege when you made it clear that you don't see me as someone worth committing to."

Oscar, realizing his mistake in using the endearment, looked at Y/n with a remorse and desperation. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you that. I'm just trying to get you to stay and talk to me about this."

Y/n shook her head, her expression still firm and determined. "No, I'm done talking. I'm done waiting. You had your chance to discuss this, and you dismissed it. I don't want to hear any more excuses or apologies right now. I need space."

Oscar, growing increasingly worried, pleaded with Y/n once more. "Please, don't go. This is the same old argument we've had before, but we've always worked through it. Let's take a break, cool off, and come back to this later."

"Exactly!" Y/n's voice is laced with frustration and exhaustion. "We keep pushing this issue aside, hoping it'll resolve itself. But it never does!" she says, tears starting to fall in between sobs. "Instead, it just becomes a bigger problem each time we avoid it. We can't avoid this conversation forever, and it's tearing me apart."

Y/n, determined to leave despite Oscar’s efforts to hold her back, breaks free from his grip and walks towards the door.

Oscar, watching her walk away, calls out to her pleadingly. "Please, don’t go. We can work this out, can’t we? You can’t just leave without resolving this."

Y/n, standing at the door with suitcase in hand, responds with a mix of determination and pain. "You’re right. There won’t be anything to resolve if there’s nothing left between us. And right now, it feels like there’s nothing left to salvage."

Oscar, panicked and desperate, tries one last effort to make her stay. "No, don’t say that! We have years together, a life built together. You can’t throw it all away just like that."

Y/n, her voice tinged with hurt and bitterness, answers with a sharp response. "When you said you don’t feel free around me, it felt like a slap in the face. As if being with me is some kind of prison sentence to you. So maybe it’s better if you are free, without me in the picture."

Y/n opens the door, her steps resolute and determined. Without looking back, she walks out and slams the door shut behind her. Oscar, left alone in the apartment, stands frozen in place, the sound of the door slamming echoing in his ears.

February 12, 2027

Three years have passed since Y/n left, and she has found herself in a different place, both geographically and emotionally. She has moved from Monaco to France, and is now living in a cozy apartment with her roommate, Alexandra.

Y/n and Alexandra are folding laundry and chatting away in the living room, enjoying each other's company. Suddenly, Y/n's phone buzzes, signaling an incoming call. She glances at the screen to see that it's her cousin calling.

Y/n, spotting the caller ID "lily 💗", excuses herself from the conversation with Alexandra. She picks up the phone, her voice tinged with curiosity. "Hey, what's up?"

Lily, sounding excited on the other end of the line, wastes no time in telling her the news. "Hey, guess what? I'm getting married! And I'd really love it if you could come to the wedding. It wouldn't be the same without you here!"

A smile spreads across Y/n's face as she listens to her cousin's cheerful announcement. She feels a mix of joy and surprise. "Oh my goodness, that's wonderful news! I'm so happy for you. Of course, I'd love to be there for your wedding. It's going to be a beautiful occasion. Have you set a date yet?"

Her cousin, still beaming with happiness, replies warmly. "Yes, we have! We're getting married in two months, at a beautiful venue here in Monte Carlo. It's going to be a wonderful celebration. I can't wait for you to be there with me."

Y/n's cousin, continuing the conversation, extends a special invitation. "Oh, and by the way, I wanted to ask you something else. Would you do me the honor of being my maid of honor? It would mean the world to me if you were by my side on my special day."

She feels a wave of warmth and appreciation at her cousin's request. She quickly responds with enthusiasm. "Oh my goodness, of course I'll be your maid of honor! It would be my absolute honor to stand by your side on your wedding day. I'm so touched that you asked me."

Her cousin lets out a happy sigh, feeling relieved and delighted at Y/n's acceptance. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm so glad you said yes. I can already imagine us having so much fun during the preparations and on the big day. You're going to be the best maid of honor ever!"

She rejoins Alexandra in the living room, her expression a mix of joy and excitement. "Sorry, that was my cousin. She's getting married apparently? She asked me to be her maid of honor too!"

Alexandra, hearing the exciting news, lights up with delight. "Oh, that's fantastic! Congratulations to the both of you!" she says, clapping lightly. "Being a maid of honor is such a special role. When's the big day?"

Y/n's voice brims with anticipation as she responds. "In two months, it'll be in Monte Carlo."

Alexandra, curious to know more about Y/n's cousin and her fiancé, poses a question with a tone of intrigue. "That sounds wonderful! So who's the lucky groom?"

Y/n opens her mouth before slowly closing it. "You know, I just realized, I don't actually know..." she replies sheepishly.

The two girls sit in awkward silence for a few moments before bursting out laughing. Y/n can finally say that she feels happy. At least, way happier than she was with Oscar.

April 26, 2027 | Chapel

The long awaited wedding day, and the setting couldn't more picturesque. The venue is adorned with elegant decorations, and Y/n stands by chapel doors, ready to walk down the aisle alongside the best man and to see the groom for the very first time.

Y/n, in her satin green dress, is arm in arm with Lando, the best man (who she met a week ago). They make their way up to the altar, and as her eyes scan the surroundings, something catches her eye. She turns her gaze towards the altar, and there she sees the groom awaiting his bride.

As the groom turns around to face the aisle, Y/n's heart skips a beat. There, standing at the altar, is Oscar, her ex-boyfriend. Y/n feels a mix of shock and disbelief. Lily is getting married to Oscar.

Oscar, caught off guard by the sight of Y/n, manages to keep his composure despite the surprise. His eyes go wide with realization, but he quickly masks his emotions and turns his attention back to the altar.

Lando, feeling Y/n's grip on his arm tighten ever so slightly, turns his attention to her with concern. He senses something is amiss and leans in slightly to inquire in a low whisper. "Hey, is everything alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Y/n, struggling to find her words, manages to compose herself enough to respond to Lando's question. "I'm... I'm fine." she mutters, forcing a smile. "Don't worry about it. Let's just focus on the ceremony right now. I'll explain everything later if we have time."

Lando, sensing Y/n's unease, nods in understanding but keeps a watchful eye on her throughout the ceremony. He feels there's more to it than meets the eye, but he decides to respect her request to wait until later to explain.

The processional draws to a close as Lily walks down the aisle, looking stunning in her snowy white dress. Y/n, unable to help herself, steals a glance at Oscar, who stands at the altar, his eyes filled with awe as he gazes at the bride- his bride, in all her splendor. There's a mix of shock and a tinge of melancholy in Y/n's expression as she observes him.

Her thoughts race through her mind as she stands alongside the other bridesmaids. She watches Oscar at the altar, his eyes fixated on Lily, and a sudden pang of bittersweetness washes over her. In that moment, she can't help but wonder if this is what it would've been if she and Oscar had gotten married, if they would've worked it out. A mixture of nostalgia and melancholy fills her heart as she contemplates what could have been.

Her inner turmoil intensifies as she struggles to reconcile her current circumstances with the memory of the dreams and aspirations she once had with Oscar. The weight of the unspoken emotions between them hangs heavily in the air, and split second, Y/n finds herself caught in a whirlwind of "what if?" scenarios before she snaps back to reality, reminding herself of the reasons that led them down separate paths. The same reasons that led them to this day.

Lily reaches the altar, and Oscar assists her with her beautiful gown, his hands gently arranging the fabric. In the process, their eyes meet for a fraction of a second, and the intensity of that brief glance nearly brings tears to her eyes. The connection, though fleeting, stirs a mix of emotions within her, bringing back memories and longing she thought she had buried in the past.

Unable to bear the weight of Oscar's gaze any longer, Y/n averts her eyes, feigning the need to fuss with her own gown. She busies herself with adjusting her attire, using the action as a guise to avoid looking at Oscar, who stands just a few steps from her. She tries to mask the turmoil within her, hoping no one notices the storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface.

Oscar tears his gaze away from Y/n and redirects his focus to his bride. A genuine, radiant smile illuminates his face, and in that moment, Y/n realizes that she has never seen him smile quite like that before. The smile is wide, full of joy and contentment. Y/n can't help but feel a sharp pang in her heart.

The sight of Oscar's unabashed happiness with his bride strikes a chord deep within Y/n. It awakened a mix of sorrow, regret, and a hint of resignation. She understands that his smile, while beautiful, is no longer hers to witness. The reality of their broken relationship, and the different paths they've taken, is now undeniable, and the weight of that realization settles heavily on her heart.

The mixture of emotions in the air is palpable as Y/n stans beside the other bridesmaids, her eyes till fixated on Oscar and the bride. She can't help but feel a jumble of sadness, envy, and acceptance, witnessing the unfolding scene in front of her. The moment seems to stretch on, each second reminding her of what could have been.

The ceremony continues, and as the moment arrives for Oscar to kiss his bride, the air catches in Y/n's throat. Y/n, along with all the guests gathered, watches as the newly weds lock lips, sealing their union in a heartfelt kiss. Y/n's heart clenches as she longs to be the one standing with Oscar, to be the one he's kissing.

Their kiss seems to last an eternity, each second a poignant reminder of the love that Oscar now shares with someone else. Y/n's eyes are fixed on the couple, her heart wallowing in sorrow and acceptance. The realization that she is no longer a part of Oscar's future washes over her, and she finds herself in the same bittersweet feeling that she found all those years ago.

Y/n, although her heart is heavy, knows she has no choice but to join in the applause. She raises her hands and claps along with the guests. Her hands come together in a rhythmic applause, the sound blending with the collective joy and celebration around her. Inside, her heart is aching, but on the outside, she manages to maintain a semblance of composure, hiding the storm of emotions within her.

April 27, 2027 | Reception

Time swiftly moves forward to the reception. Lando, as the best man, steps up to the podium, ready to deliver his speech. The room falls silent, and all eyes turn to him, waiting to hear his words. Lando takes a deep breath before starting, his voice filled with a mix of humor, warmth, and genuine affection for the couple.

Lando begins his best man speech with a warm smile, his eyes flickering across the guests. "Good evening, everyone. I feel incredibly honored to be standing here as the best man for this beautiful couple. Today we gather to celebrate love, commitment, and the beginning of a new journey for our newlyweds, Lily and Oscar. I've known Oscar for a long time, and I can confidently say that I've never seen him as happy as he is today, all thanks to the incredible woman sitting beside him."

As Lando continues with his speech, Y/n sits in her chair, listening intently. The mention of Oscar being the happiest he's ever been makes her chest tighten, as though an invisible weight is pressing down on her heart. The reality that Oscar has found true happiness with someone else, the very thing Y/n had once hoped to provide for him, is a bitter pill to swallow.

Y/n, lost in her thoughts, zones out during the last part of Lando's speech. The words around her turn into a blur, and she becomes unaware of the speech's conclusion. Her mind is preoccupied with the barrage of emotions swirling inside her, and she finds herself in a state of partial detachment from the ongoing celebration.

Lando, sensing that Y/n was lost in thought, gently places his hand on her shoulder. This gesture snaps her back to reality, and she becomes aware of the room around her again. Seeing her jolt slightly, he gazes at her with a compassionate glance. "Hey, it's your turn to give a speech."

Her heart rate quickens as she realizes it's her turn to give the speech, and she takes a deep breath to steady herself. She glances around the room, the weight of the moment settling heavily on her shoulders.

Y/n slowly walks up to the podium, her steps deliberate and measured. As she stands in front of the microphone, she can feel the eyes of gathered guests fixed on her, waiting for her words.

She stands behind the podium, taking a moment to collect herself before speaking. With a mixture of joy, love, and disbelief, she begins her speech.

She starts, "Good evening, everyone. For those who may not know me, I’m Y/n, the bride’s cousin, but truly, we’ve always been like sisters. Standing here today, I feel a flood of emotions - joy, love, and perhaps just a hint of disbelief that this day has finally come."

Y/n continues, "You see, when we were children, Lily and I would often engage in 'wedding' games. We'd don makeshift wedding veils made from pillowcases and fiercely argue over who would get to be the bride. It was a serious matter for us back then, and more often than not, we’d ultimately settle on her being the bride. According to her, she just 'looked more like one.' Well, Lily, I have to admit, you were absolutely right—because here you are today, looking stunning, more beautiful and radiant than I could have ever imagined."

Her voice is a mixture of warmth and sentimentality as she continues her speech. "It’s fascinating how childhood dreams have a way of becoming reality, and yet, it’s even more astonishing to witness how you’ve grown into the remarkable woman standing before us now. Over the years, I’ve watched you navigate the ups and downs of life with such grace, and today, as you marry Oscar, my heart swells with happiness for you both."

In the midst of her speech, Y/n’s eyes inadvertently meet Oscar’s, and a wave of emotions courses through her. The weight of the moment, combined with her feelings for Oscar, causes tears to well up in her eyes, making it increasingly difficult to continue speaking.

She pauses, attempting to blink back the tears that threaten to spill. Clearing her throat lightly, she tries to push through the momentary emotional wave that has struck her. The pain in her heart is evident, but she forces a smile, determined to complete her speech with a semblance of composure.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n collects herself and presses on with her speech, "While I’m brimming with joy for you both, I must admit I feel a tinge of bittersweetness, for today marks the beginning of a new chapter in your life — a chapter where you start your own family. But if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that no matter how life changes, no matter where you go, we’ll always be as close as we’ve been."

Y/n steals another quick glance in Oscar's direction before continuing. Her emotions are still close to the surface, but she plows on, speaking with a mixture of bittersweet happiness and nostalgia.

"You’re not just my cousin; you’re my sister, and this connection we share is something that will forever remain unchanged. So here’s to the both of you. May your love be as strong and lasting as our bond has been all these years. And Lily, if this day proves anything, it’s that you were always destined to be the bride." she says, wiping away her tears with a small handkerchief Lando handed her.

As Y/n completes her speech, her eyes inadvertently find their way back to Oscar. The gaze she gives him mirrors the one she had when they parted ways three years ago. The pain, the longing, and the unresolved emotions are all still there, making her next words more strained.

With her gaze still fixed on Oscar, Y/n struggles to keep her emotions in check as she continues her speech, her voice trembling slightly. Despite the ache in her heart, she forces a smile, her words now directed towards Oscar.

"And to Oscar, I hope you enjoy growing old with her as much as I enjoyed growing up with her." Each word feels like a dagger to her heart, but she finishes her speech, the pain in her eyes reflecting the depth of her unspoken feelings.

Y/n, fighting to maintain her composure, finally comes to the end of her speech. Her voice wavers slightly as she utters her final words. "A toast! To Lily and Oscar!"

Her words hang in the air, a bittersweet sentiment that lingers in the room. The guests raise their glasses in agreement, blissfully unaware of the turmoil within Y/n.

Lily, moved by Y/n's heartfelt speech, stands up and embraces her cousin in a tight hug. But while Lily basks in the moment, blissfully unaware of the pain her happiness is causing Y/n, the latter can only focus on Oscar, her eyes filling with tears as she gazes at him. The raw emotions bubbling beneath the surface seem to intensify, and it takes all her strength to hold back the floodgates.

April 27, 2027 | After the Reception

The reception has come to an end, and the hotel lobby is relatively quiet at this late hour. Lando, getting ready to head out, spots Y/n standing in the corner, holding her crumpled gown in one hand and her phone in the other. He approaches her with a concerned expression.

"Hey," Lando says softly, standing beside Y/n. His voice is gentle, tinged with concern as he looks at her. "Are you alright? You seem a bit... off?"

Y/n glances up at Lando, her expression weary. The emotional toll of the evening is evident on her face. She forces a small smile, trying to appear okay. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she replies, her voice slightly strained. "Just a bit tired, you know."

Lando can sense that Y/n isn't being completely honest, but he doesn't press the issue. Instead, he offers her two options. "You sure you're okay? You can always crash at my place if you want," he suggests. "Or, if you're up for it, we could go for a drive. Whatever you prefer."

Y/n ponders for a moment, weighing her options. Finally, she decides to take Lando up on his offer for a drive.

"A drive sounds good," she says, her voice slightly weary but also filled with a hint of relief. "Lead the way."

With a nod, Lando leads the way towards his car, parked outside the hotel. He unlocks the door, takes her gown, and gestures for her to get in. Once they're both settled in the car, Lando starts the engine and begins driving.

The silent drive envelops them, its quietness only interrupted by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of passing cars. Both Lando and Y/n seem weary, the evening's events taking their toll on them.

Lando glances over at Y/n periodically, noting the fatigue etched on her face.

He drives them to an empty beach, where only the signs of life are a few stray cats and dogs sleeping beneath a nearby bridge. The beach is mostly deserted, and the soft sound of waves crashing against the shore adds a soothing atmosphere to the surroundings.

He parks the car and shuts off the engine, the sudden silence feeling both peaceful and surreal at the same time.

Lando gets out of the car and opens the trunk. He rummages through it, pulling out two bottles of beer. He closes the trunk and walks over to where Y/n is standing, holding the bottles in one hand.

"Wanna share a cold one?" he asks, offering her one of the bottles.

As Lando hands Y/n a bottle, she glances at him with a puzzled expression on her face, her confusion evident. "You just happen to have cold beer in your trunk?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Lando laughs at her questions and explains, shrugging his shoulders. "Nah, I don't keep beers in my car!" he says, chuckling. "It was supposed to be for the wedding, in case we ran out. You know how weddings can be."

Y/n nods in agreement and requests a bottle opener. Lando pats his pockets, searching for one. After a moment, he pulls out a small, multi-purpose tool from his pocket that serves as a bottle opener.

"Can I?" he says, gesturing for her to hand him the beer.

Y/n thanks him and hands her bottle to him, waiting for to him to open his bottle. As he uses it to pop the lids off both bottles with a satisfying fizzing sound, she takes her bottle and watches the foam settle on the top of the liquid.

Lando closes the trunk and follows Y/n down to the sand. They walk down in silence, the soft sound of their footsteps blending with the gentle rhythmic crashing of the waves.

The cool night air wraps around them, offering a refreshing reprieve from the day’s festivities. The soft light of the stars and the moon casts a gentle glow over the beach, making the surrounding area appear almost magical.

As they reach a spot on the beach and sit down, Lando takes a sip of his beer and sets the bottle down in the sand. He glances over at Y/n, his expression curious. “Hey, can I ask you something?” he says.

Y/n looks up at Lando, her expression open. “Sure, what is it?” she responds, her curiosity piqued by his inquiry.

Lando takes another sip of his drink before continuing. “When we were standing there, right before you were supposed to give the speech, you started acting kinda strange. I’m just wondering… did something happen?”

He pauses for a moment, the memory of their walk down the aisle surfacing in his mind. His tone becomes concerned and inquisitive. “And when we were walking down the aisle, you seemed… I don’t know, kinda on edge too. Did something happen back there or…”

Y/n sighs heavily, knowing she can’t avoid the question any longer. She gazes out at the ocean, the weight of her emotions visible in her expression. “I guess you noticed that something was up after all,” she says, her voice tinged with a hint of regret. “It’s a long story, Lan.”

Lando looks at Y/n, giving her a reassuring smile. “You know what? We’ve got all the time in the world right now, it’s just you and me.” he says, his voice gentle and inviting. “And I’m all ears if you need to talk about whatever is bothering you.”

Y/n feels a mix of emotions, knowing that Lando is willing to listen to her and that she can finally open up about what’s been bothering her. She takes a deep breath, her voice slightly shaky as she begins to tell her story.

“Okay… So I guess I should start by telling you that Oscar is my ex-boyfriend.” She sighs, feeling the weight of her words settle over her.

As Y/n drops the revelation about Oscar being her ex, Lando’s response is somewhat unexpected— his beer goes up his nose, causing him to cough and splutter lightly. Y/n stifles a laugh, finding a brief moment of humor amidst the intensity of their conversation.

“Hey,” she giggles playfully, “you okay there?” Lando clears his throat, wiping away the remnants of his beer mishap.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he laughs, his eyes still watering slightly. “I just… did not expect that detail?”

They both laugh softly, and the moment of levity helps to alleviate some of the tension hanging in the air.

Y/n takes a deep breath, regaining her composure, and going on with her story. “Long story short, things didn’t end well between us… I guess seeing him again as the groom, all dressed up and looking ready to start a new chapter in his life, well, it just hit me pretty hard,” she confesses, the sadness and lingering pain evident in her voice.

Y/n takes a moment to gather her thoughts, summoning the courage to share the painful truth. “The main reason we ended things was because he wasn’t ready to settle down. He didn’t want what I want— commitment, a future together, you know? It hurt, but I had to respect his decision.” Her voice trails off, memories of their breakup flooding her mind, stinging her again.

The mention of Oscar’s reluctance to commit triggers a painful memory for Y/n, causing her eyes to cloud with a mix of sadness and longing. “And now, seeing stand there, so ready to marry someone else, with the biggest smile on his face… It’s like my hope of us being together has been shattered all over again.”

Her laughter is tinged with bitterness, the irony of the situation not lost on her. “To make matters worse, it just had to be my cousin, right? Like some sort of fucking soap opera. I mean, what are the odds of that?” Y/n muses, shaking her head slightly.

Seeing the sadness etched on Y/n’s face, Lando can’t help but feel empathy for her situation. He reaches out, gently placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, his touch conveying a silent understanding.

As Lando reaches out and touches her shoulder with a comforting gesture, Y/n feels a wave of gratitude towards him. She looks at him and forces a small smile, appreciating his support.

“Thank you, Lan,” she mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… hard to see him so happy with someone else when I still have feelings for him- well, I thought I didn’t love him anymore, I thought I had moved on, but seeing him today… it just brought everything back.”

Hearing Y/n’s words, Lando clears his throat, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Y’know, Y/n, it’s completely understandable that you feel this way. Seeing an ex move on can be incredibly difficult, especially when you’re still clinging to those lingering feelings and hopes of what could have been.

He pauses, considering his words carefully. “Maybe it’s time for you to actually let go and move forward. Leave the past behind.”

In the midst of their conversation, a small tabby kitten suddenly appears and jumps into Y/n’s lap, surprising the both of them. The sudden appearance of the kitten seems to momentarily distract them from their heavy discussion.

“Whoa, where did you come from, little one?” Y/n exclaims with a surprised laugh, as she gently pets the kittens fur.

Lando chuckles and remarks, “Y’know, they say cats are surprisingly good at sensing emotions. It must have sensed your sadness, Y/n. They can absorb negative vibes like little fluffy energy absorbers.”

Y/n couldn’t help but smile at Lando’s explanation, the idea of the cat absorbing her sadness somehow comforting. “That makes sense, I guess. It’s kind of sweet, in a way,” she muses, continuing to pet the kitten which responds with a soft purr. “Maybe this kitty will absorb all of these painful emotions and turn them to into something positive.”

As if sensing the conversation, the kitten nuzzles against Y/n’s hand, it’s purring growing louder, sending gentle vibrations throughout her fingers. The warmth and innocence of the moment provide a brief respite from her emotional turmoil.

Y/n chuckles, but her laughter is tinged with bitterness. She looks down at the kitten in her lap. "I realized something earlier. I'm always be the bridesmaid, and never the bride. It’s like my destiny is to always be the supporting character in someone else’s love story, not the one who gets their own happy ending."

She sighs softly, a mixture of resignation and disappointment in her voice. “I never thought that I’d be that cliché— the forever bridesmaid, never finding true love. Yet here I am, witnessing it all unfold in front of me.”

Lando locks eyes with Y/n, his gaze sincere and filled with a hint of something more than just friendly concern. “Love has a mysterious way of hiding in the most unexpected places. Maybe… the person you’re looking for is right in front of you, and you just need to open your eyes to see it.”

His words hang in the air, leaving them both pondering the possibility of love closer than they think.

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