#i will answer the rest of the asks later i have to be a self sufficient person rn or smthn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lalo0 · 5 days ago

Text

INSIDE AESPA EP. 6┃ Harder to pretend

Male reader x Karina

Word count: 6.3k

Tags: squirting, dom/sub, orgasm denial, praise, dirty talk, teasing

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5

She kept looking.

Long enough that I felt it—not in a self-conscious way. Not like I had something to hide. But like I was being seen too clearly. Like she was starting to understand something about me I hadn’t decided to show yet.

I gave her a small smile.

“Thinking of drawing me?”

Her brow didn’t lift. Her lips didn’t move. She just leaned in slightly, resting her chin on my chest like she hadn’t heard me.

“I’m trying to figure out what you’re not saying,” she said.

I didn’t answer. Because for me to answer that, I’d have to know the answer first.

Her fingers curled lightly against my ribs. Not holding on. Just there.

After a few seconds, she pulled away, climbed to her feet, and stretched. The sheet slipped a little, but she didn’t reach for it. She caught me looking.

Then she smiled.

“I’m gonna shower,” she said.

I nodded.

She grabbed her shirt, tugged it over her head, and padded toward the bathroom without another word.

I stayed where I was.

Let the silence stretch.

Eventually, I moved. Cleaned up the mess on the nightstand. Closed the mini fridge. Re-tightened the lid on the water bottle. The scent of wax still clung to the sheets.

And I felt fine.

Not great. Not glowing. But calm. Steady. Worn down in a good way.

That was the lie I decided to tell myself.

The hallway was empty when I stepped out. Dim morning light leaked through the high windows. A door clicked shut somewhere far off.

I followed the quiet down to the living room.

Ningning was there. On the couch, knees pulled up to her chest, hair damp and curled around her neck. She was holding a bowl of cereal with both hands like it was sacred.

She glanced up when I walked in.

“Hey,” she said, like we were strangers who’d only sort of met.

I nodded back. “Morning.”

There was no tension. No jealousy. No gloating. Just quiet acknowledgment.

“I left the note,” she said after a beat. “Did you eat something?”

“Winter did.”

“You didn’t?”

I hesitated. Then said, “Wasn’t hungry.”

Ningning nodded slowly. “You look like someone who forgets to eat a lot.”

I didn’t respond.

She turned back to the show she had playing on her laptop—muted, some kind of cartoon, bright and fast and loud even without sound. I sat down on the other end of the couch. We didn’t talk.

At some point, I pulled my phone from my pocket. No texts. No missed calls. Just time slipping forward in five-minute increments while the sun crawled into the corners of the room.

Then—

“Can I ask you something?” she said, eyes still on the screen.

“Sure.”

She didn’t ask right away. Just pressed her thumb into her bowl, watching the milk slosh.

“What’s the worst thing someone’s ever said to you?”

I looked over at her.

Her voice hadn’t changed.

She didn’t look at me. Just said, “You don’t have to answer.”

I thought about it.

And I was about to say something—

When Karina’s voice cut in from the hallway.

“We have that Zoom thing in twenty.”

Ningning jumped slightly. “Oh, right.”

She stood, dumped the rest of her cereal into the sink, then looked at me again.

There was a question in her eyes. Not about the worst thing. About me.

She didn’t ask it.

She just said, “Later,” and padded down the hall.

I sat back.

Stared at the screen for a while.

Then at nothing.

And the feeling came creeping in again—not all at once, not sharp. Just a slow pressure behind the ribs. A weight that didn’t belong there.

Like something was trying to surface.

But that was probably just because I haven't eaten yet.

I stayed on the couch after Ningning left.

Long enough for the muted show to end. Long enough for my legs to go stiff. I didn’t notice how tense I was until I stood up and my spine popped like an old floorboard.

I stretched, wandered into the kitchen.

The croissant box was still open.

I shut it without looking.

Footsteps behind me. Louder than Ningning’s. Slower.

Karina.

She was wearing all black—sweats, tank top, hair half-tied like she couldn’t be bothered to finish it. She didn’t say anything at first. Just walked in and opened the fridge.

She pulled out a protein drink, popped the cap, took a sip. Her eyes met mine over the rim.

“You’re still here,” she said.

It wasn’t cold. Not exactly. But it wasn’t warm either.

“Morning,” I said.

She nodded once. Then leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, bottle resting against her wrist.

Silence.

I waited. Let it stretch.

Finally, she said, “You’ve been spending a lot of time here.”

“I can leave.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You were thinking it.”

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You think you can read me?”

“No. Just recognizing the tone.”

Another pause.

Then: “I don’t have a problem with you.”

“Doesn’t sound like you don’t.”

She exhaled through her nose. Not quite a sigh. More like she was trying not to sigh.

“I’m responsible for them,” she said. “All of them. And when new variables show up—especially ones that affect the dynamic—it’s my job to know what those variables want.”

I blinked. “So I’m a variable?”

“You’re not family. You’re not staff. You’re not press. And you’re sure as hell not invisible.”

She said it without malice. Just fact.

I nodded slowly.

Then I smiled. “You practiced that one?”

A flicker of something in her eyes. Almost amusement. Almost.

“I’ve said it before.”

“Of course you have.”

Karina didn’t reply. She took another sip. Then looked past me—toward the hall. Like she was tracking where the others were. How much time she had left to speak freely.

I didn’t move.

She looked at me again.

“Do you want something from them?” she asked.

There it was.

I looked at her. Long enough that she started to fidget with the bottle cap.

"No," I said "not the way you're thinking."

She didn’t answer.

Just pushed off the counter and said, “We’re leaving in a bit. Don’t be here too long.”

Then she walked past me.

But just before she turned the corner, she stopped.

Not turned. Just… paused.

Then she said, “Don’t hurt them.”

I went back to Winter’s room after the front door shut.

The house was quiet again. Fully this time. No footsteps. No voices. Just the distant hum of a fridge and the faint buzz of a light that needed replacing.

Winter was gone.

So was the wax. The water bottle. The sheets had been pulled off the bed and dumped into a basket in the corner.

The window was cracked open. A little breeze moved the curtain.

I sat on the edge of the mattress and let the silence settle over me.

I tried not to think about Karina’s voice. Her phrasing. The way she’d looked at me like I was already an answer to a problem she didn’t want to have.

Don’t hurt them.

I wasn’t sure if it was meant as a warning or a plea.

I stayed there for a while.

Just listening to the silence.

Just trying to breathe through whatever was building in my chest.

I didn’t move right away.

The silence in the room wasn’t peaceful anymore. It pressed in, thick around the ribs. Not unbearable, not loud—just there. The kind of quiet that made your own thoughts louder.

I stared at the window for a while.

Then at the floor.

Then at my hands.

There was wax under my fingernails. Faint marks on my skin from Winter’s nails. A line on my arm I didn’t remember getting. All of it felt distant, like it had happened to someone else.

Eventually, I got up and grabbed the sheets from the basket. Found the washer tucked into a corner of the hall closet and fed them in. The sound of the machine kicking on gave the house a pulse again. Something real. Something mechanical.

The bathroom was empty. No sign of Winter. Just fog on the mirror and a towel still damp on the rack. I ran cold water over my wrists and splashed my face. Let it drip down my jaw and over my collarbone.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

Didn’t hold the stare.

Just dried off and left.

I walked through the house barefoot. No real aim. Just enough momentum to keep from standing still.

There was a book open on the coffee table, spine cracked, page corners folded like someone couldn’t decide which parts mattered most.

One of the windows was cracked, just like in Winter’s room. A breeze carried through, warm and almost sweet.

And that’s when it happened.

Nothing big. Just a glint.

There was a receipt half-tucked under the couch.

Folded once. Creased along the edges. The kind of thing you’d toss without thinking.

I bent down and picked it up.

Didn’t mean to.

Just… did.

The paper was thin, slightly smudged from the floor. Boutique logo in the corner. Just a total at the bottom:

$4,700.

One item. No name. No note.

My fingers twitched.

The paper was on the counter. Folded once. Nothing dramatic. I only opened it because it looked out of place. Too clean. Like it didn’t belong in our kitchen. One of those carbon-copy receipts. Cash payment. Two signatures at the bottom. One of them his.

The total was written in blue ink: $4,700.00 No item. No reason. No names. Just a number and a date. I don’t remember what I thought at first. Maybe it was for the car. Maybe they were renting something. Maybe it had nothing to do with me.

He had been coming over more. He brought things. Food sometimes. Ice cream, once. Strawberry. He always smiled too wide, like it hurt him not to. My mom told me to sit up straight when he was there. Told me to be respectful. That he was helping us. She started checking in on us less and less. When I said I didn’t like him—she told me not to be ungrateful. That night, he touched my shoulder. Not like a hug. Not a pat. Just a hold. He said, “You’re growing fast.” And I smiled. Because I didn’t know what else to do.

I put the paper back down.

Didn’t read the rest.

I didn’t want to.

By the time I got back to the guest room, my pulse had kicked up. I told myself it was just from walking fast. Or not sleeping.

But when I sat down, I realized I was still gripping my hand too tight.

Still feeling that old weight coil somewhere deep behind the ribs.

Or maybe I'm just tired.

Yeah. That's all it is.

I stayed on the edge of the bed until the quiet stopped feeling like rest.

Then I got up.

I wandered the house for a bit—hallway, kitchen, past the washer still thumping behind a thin wall. Sunlight had shifted. The croissant box hadn’t moved.

I didn’t realize I was by the front window until the door opened behind me.

Soft click.

Footsteps. Unhurried. Certain.

Karina.

“You’re still here,” she said.

I looked over.

She’d changed. Black jacket, clean lines. Hair pulled back. Sunglasses in one hand. The kind of look that didn’t ask questions—it waited for you to say something wrong.

“I don’t keep a schedule,” I said.

She passed me without breaking stride. Opened the fridge. Grabbed a drink. Shut the door like it settled something.

“You eat?”

“No.”

She unscrewed the cap, drank, didn’t blink. Then leaned back against the counter, bottle cradled in one hand. Watching.

“Something get to you?”

“No.”

She tilted her head slightly, like she was scanning for a crack in the surface. “That’s a fast answer.”

“It’s a boring question.”

She smirked.

Then, after a moment: “You act like letting someone do something for you is the same as giving them control.”

I didn't ask her what she was talking about.

Just looked at her. “And you act like doing things for people is the same as protecting them.”

That stopped her for a second.

Then: “So we’re both exhausting.”

“Looks like it.”

She didn’t smile. But something eased in her stance—like she’d been bracing for a different kind of pushback.

We stood there, the hum of the fridge filling the space between us.

Then she said, voice low but steady, “Whatever’s eating at you—just be careful who you try to hide it from.”

I didn’t reply.

She stepped past me again. Almost out the door.

Then paused.

Didn’t turn around. Just said, “You don’t owe anyone a role to play.”

And then she was gone.

I stayed in the kitchen a little too long after that.

The bottle she left behind was still cold. Half-full. I moved it to the side, like that meant something.

The house had gone quiet again.

But not peaceful. Just… expectant.

I walked the loop once—past the living room, down the hallway, back to the front. No one else had come back. The door stayed closed.

When I passed the kitchen again, Karina was there.

I didn’t hear her come in. She wasn’t by the fridge this time—she was at the counter, checking something on her phone, brows drawn just slightly like whatever it was didn’t quite sit right.

Her jacket was gone. Her sleeves pushed up.

“You always pace like that?” she asked, not looking up.

“I didn’t know I was pacing.”

“You were.”

I leaned against the doorframe.

She glanced up. Studied me for a second. Then set her phone face down and walked to the sink. Started rinsing out a mug that wasn’t hers.

“Where’s everyone else?”

She shrugged. “Still out.”

“You came back early.”

“I had a headache.”

She dried the mug. Didn’t elaborate.

I waited for her to say something else. She didn’t.

“I can go,” I offered.

Karina looked over her shoulder.

One long glance.

“No one asked you to.”

That could’ve meant anything.

I didn’t move.

She turned back to the sink. Wiped down the counter with one of those practiced, unnecessary motions people do when they’re thinking about something else.

“You always this twitchy when it gets quiet?” she asked.

“I’m not twitchy.”

She set the cloth down. “You flinched when I walked in.”

I hadn’t.

At least—I didn’t think I had.

But I didn’t argue.

Karina leaned back against the counter again. Arms crossed. She didn’t speak for a moment.

Then: “You’re not what I expected.”

That was it. Not a compliment. Not an accusation. Just a fact.

I met her eyes. “Good or bad?”

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

We just stood there—two people who weren’t used to being read, trying to decide if the other one already had.

The tension didn’t come from anger. Or lust. Or even suspicion.

It came from recognition.

Not of who we were.

But of what we were hiding.

Karina didn’t move.

Neither did I.

The silence didn’t press—it pulled. Like gravity shifting. Like we were both calculating what happened if one of us made the first move.

She looked at me again. Not challenging. Not coaxing. Just... there. Like she wasn’t going to fill the silence for me.

So I filled it.

“Are you always this hard to talk to?”

Her mouth twitched. “Says the guy who deflects every chance he gets.”

My chest tightened. Brief. Automatic.

But I covered it. "I don''t.”

“I see a lot.”

That wasn’t a brag.

Just a fact.

I held her gaze. She didn’t look away.

“Then what do you see now?”

Karina’s arms stayed crossed. Her jaw worked slightly—like the question hadn’t surprised her, but the weight of it had.

Finally, she said, “Someone trying really hard not to need anything.”

That stung a little more than it should.

But I didn’t show it.

She stepped forward.

Just a little.

Enough for the air between us to shift.

“I don’t care what you’ve done. Or what you think you’re hiding,” she said. “Just don’t lie to me. Not here.”

I wanted to say I wasn’t.

But I didn’t.

Because she’d know that was a lie too.

Karina stood there, looking at me like she was still deciding something. Like some part of her had already decided and she just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

Her next words came quieter. Slower.

“I don't dislike you," she said "And I don’t like most people.”

“Lucky me.”

She didn’t smile.

But she didn’t step back either.

Then, almost under her breath—like she wasn’t even sure I was supposed to hear it:

“Come with me.”

And this time, when she walked, I followed.

She didn’t wait to see if I was behind her.

Didn’t explain. Didn’t glance back.

Just walked.

Down the hall. Past the guest room. Past the living room. Toward the quieter end of the house—the part I hadn’t seen yet. Her steps were quiet. Measured. Not fast. Not slow. Just… deliberate.

Like this wasn’t a new decision.

Just one she’d been waiting to act on.

She stopped in front of a closed door. Tapped the frame once with her knuckles. Then opened it.

Her room.

It was spare. Clean. Lived-in but private. No clutter. A few books stacked neatly beside the bed. A phone charger coiled in a dish. Light coming in from a tall window, filtered through half-drawn curtains.

Karina stepped inside and let the silence settle for a beat.

Then turned.

Not facing me directly. Just glancing over her shoulder like she was giving me one last out.

“You coming in, or do I need to drag you?”

I stepped in.

Closed the door behind me.

She stood by the bed. Not waiting. Not posing. Just… watching.

Like she wanted to see what I did first.

I didn’t rush.

Didn’t speak.

Just let the air shift again.

Then I reached for her wrist.

Slow.

Measured.

Not to pull her closer—but to see if she’d stop me.

She didn’t.

Her pulse was steady.

Her eyes didn’t drop.

But the second I brushed my thumb across the inside of her wrist, I felt it.

That tension.

Not fear.

Control.

Held tight. Reinforced. Hardened.

Like she’d built something out of it—and wasn’t sure how to let go.

I moved closer.

Close enough to feel the heat off her skin.

But I didn’t kiss her.

Not yet.

She tilted her chin up slightly. That same challenge from before—not verbal. Not overt.

Just a look that said: You really want this?

And a look that answered: I didn’t follow you in here by accident.

Finally—finally—Karina leaned in.

Close enough I could count her breaths.

And said, just above a whisper:

“Don’t think this means anything.”

I smiled. “You say that like it has to.”

Then I kissed her.

And everything tightened.

Her hands found the hem of my shirt. Mine tangled in the knot of her waistband. Our mouths didn’t fit perfectly—too much force, too little hesitation—but that was the point.

This wasn’t gentle.

This wasn’t careful.

This was two people who didn’t like losing control—deciding to share it, just for a little while.

And neither of us planned to be the first to break.

Karina didn’t flinch.

The kiss deepened. Less careful now. Still sharp, but starting to unravel.

Her fingers slid into my hair.

I let her take the lead.

She kissed like she argued—without flinching, without apology. Like she knew exactly where her limits were and had no interest in staying behind them.

Her teeth scraped my lip. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to warn.

I bit back a sound.

That made her smile against my mouth.

And then she stepped back.

Only far enough to look at me fully.

“Sit,” she said.

I didn’t move.

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you always hesitate this much?”

“I’m just curious what happens if I don’t.”

That earned me another one of those not-quite-smiles.

She pushed me gently toward the couch. Not rough. Just firm.

I let her.

She straddled me the second I sat down. One knee on either side. Her hands resting on my chest like she wasn’t planning on being gentle.

Then she kissed me again—deeper this time. With purpose.

Like she was writing something she didn’t want to say out loud.

My hands ran down her back. Slid under the hem of her shirt. Her skin was warm. Tight over muscle. Soft in all the right places.

She reached between us, unbuttoned my jeans, slow and practiced. Then tugged them down just enough.

I groaned.

She didn’t react. Just pulled her shirt off over her head and tossed it somewhere behind her. No theatrics. No hesitation.

Her bra was plain. Black. Practical.

She didn’t take it off.

Just reached behind her and unclasped it slowly—like she wanted me to see, not touch.

Then she held my eyes and said, quiet and flat, “You don’t get to cum yet.”

My pulse jumped.

She smiled like that was the point.

Then she shifted forward—grinding against me just enough to make my whole body clench.

“Hands stay here,” she said, guiding them to her hips.

I didn’t argue.

Her rhythm started slow. Measured. Like she was using me. Like she was getting herself off on my restraint.

Her breath hitched once. But she didn’t speed up. Didn’t give me more. Just kept circling her hips—just enough pressure, just enough friction. Her hands dug into my shoulders, fingers flexing in time with her movements.

I clenched my jaw. Bit back the urge to thrust up into her.

She noticed.

And smirked.

“Good boy,” she whispered, voice low and wicked in my ear.

Then she kissed my throat. Bit it.

I swallowed a sound I didn’t want to give her.

But she could feel it. The tension in my thighs. The way my breath stuttered every time her hips pressed down too hard.

She was doing this on purpose.

Driving me to the edge without letting me fall.

I didn’t stop her.

Not yet.

Because part of me wanted to know how far she’d go.

Her hands didn’t tremble.

They moved with a kind of precision that wasn’t born from caution—but intent. Like she'd already played this scene out in her mind a hundred times. Like she'd measured every nerve she was about to touch and knew exactly how long it would take to unravel them.

She sank to her knees in front of me.

Not submissive.

She looked up once, eyes catching mine—not asking for permission, but daring me to flinch.

I didn’t.

But my breath hitched when her hands met my hips.

She didn’t undress me right away. Just held me there. Fingers spread over the waistband of my pants. Palms warm. Steady. Anchoring me to the moment while her gaze flicked lower, calculating.

Then she said, "Don’t move."

Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.

She started pulling on my pants slowly.

And when she freed me, her touch wasn't gentle. It was clinical. Possessive. She wrapped her fingers around me like she owned the next few minutes of my life. Like she was about to write something into my skin I wouldn't be able to erase.

She didn’t start stroking. Not yet. Just held me there, weight firm in her hand, thumb brushing once along the underside—a barely-there tease that made me bite back a sound.

She noticed.

She always noticed.

And that smirk returned. Darker now. Less amused. More... hungry.

Her mouth came next.

But not to take me in.

She kissed the inside of my thigh.

Then the other.

Then higher. Closer.

But never where I needed her.

She was methodical. Borderline cruel. Her lips grazed everything but the one place they were supposed to be. And her hands never let up—fingers curled tight, pressure perfect. Just enough to keep me hard. Just enough to keep me waiting.

She liked waiting.

"How long do you think you can hold off?" she asked, her voice low, lips brushing the base of me with each word.

I didn’t answer.

She rewarded the silence with teeth.

Just a graze. Barely pressure. But I jerked anyway.

She laughed.

Not sweet. Not cruel. Just sure.

"Already twitchy."

She finally took me into her mouth then—but not deep. Just the tip. Her tongue pressed firm underneath, circling once, twice, then pulling back. Her hand took over again. A few strokes. Slow. Measured.

Then nothing.

She let go.

She stood.

My hands went to her waist instinctively, but she caught my wrists mid-air.

"No," she said.

And pushed me back.

Hard.

I stumbled until my back hit the nearest wall.

She followed. Pressed her body against mine. One hand sliding between us to grip me again, the other pressing against my throat—not choking. Just there. Just a promise.

She kissed me then.

Mouth demanding. Tongue insistent. Her grip on me never eased. Every movement was calculated. Like she was testing how much it would take. How long I'd last.

She started stroking again. Slow at first. Then faster. Then slow again. Her pace was a lie. Her rhythm a trap. She'd bring me to the edge and let me feel the weight of it.

Then stop.

Every. Single. Time.

And she loved it.

Her breath hit my ear. "You don’t get to finish until I say you can."

I let out a breath that sounded too much like a groan.

Her smile was teeth. Predatory.

"Say it," she demanded.

I swallowed. "I don’t get to finish until you say I can."

"Good boy."

She grinded against my thigh then—not to tease me, but herself. Her hips moved like she had something to prove. Like she was going to come from control alone.

She almost did.

Even as her hips moved—slow, firm, measured—she kept her hand braced against my chest, nails digging in just enough to remind me who was on top. But I didn’t fight it. Not yet. I let her use me the way she needed.

My hands stayed low, palms steady on the curve of her waist. She rocked forward again. Harder this time. Her breath caught. But I didn’t groan. Didn’t buck. I just held her there, letting her feel how calm I still was.

She noticed.

There was the smallest flicker of hesitation in the way her rhythm stuttered. Her eyes narrowed.

“You’re being quiet,” she said.

I didn’t answer.

She leaned closer. Pressed her mouth to my ear. “Say something.”

I turned my head just enough to meet her gaze. “I thought you liked being the one in charge.”

She stared at me. For a beat. Maybe two. Then she moved again—rougher now, her nails dragging lower, her mouth brushing mine like a dare.

“You think you’re handling this?” she whispered.

“No.”

A pause.

“But I’m handling you.”

She tried not to react. But her breath shook just a little when I pushed my hips up—slow, deliberate—meeting her motion instead of letting her ride it.

Her mouth parted.

My hands slid higher. One at her lower back, the other between her shoulder blades. Not forcing. Just anchoring.

Guiding.

The next time she moved, I moved with her.

And she felt it.

Her pace faltered.

Not because she was losing control—but because she knew I wasn’t following anymore.

Still gentle. Still careful. But she could feel it. The shift. Her hands came down to my chest again—less to dominate, more to steady herself.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” she said, breathless.

“Doing what?”

Her eyes narrowed. She leaned down—bit my bottom lip. Hard enough to sting. But when I pulled her closer, it was without flinching.

“You like being on top,” I said. “But I think you'd like being taken care of more..”

She froze.

Just long enough for me to flip us.

I didn’t slam her down. Didn’t yank. It was smooth—fluid. She gasped as her back hit the mattress, legs still around my waist, one arm caught between us.

My hand caught her jaw.

Not hard. But firm.

“You good?”

She nodded once. Breathless.

“Say it.”

“I’m good.”

My thumb brushed her cheek. “Then don’t stop me.”

She didn’t.

Didn’t try to flip us back. Didn’t try to claw her way out.

She just laid there—eyes dark, lips parted—and let the change settle.

And I started to move.

Deliberate. Focused. Controlled.

The way she had moments ago.

Only now it was me setting the rhythm.

Me deciding how far she got to fall.

Karina didn’t speak.

Didn’t need to.

Her breath told me everything—sharp when I pressed in deeper, soft when I slowed. Her hands gripped the sheets now, knuckles pale against the dark cotton. Her body tried to keep the pace, but I kept shifting it—just enough to stay ahead of her, just enough to remind her she wasn’t the one driving anymore.

I caught both her wrists and pinned them gently above her head.

She tensed.

Not from fear.

She didn’t fight.

Just looked up at me, eyes locked, breath shallow.

I leaned down until our foreheads touched. My voice was quiet.

“Stay.”

She didn’t move.

Didn’t nod.

Didn’t need to.

I let one hand slide down—slow, dragging from her collarbone to her sternum, then between her breasts. Her skin jumped under my touch. I traced small shapes across her ribs. Her hips bucked.

She was trying to be still.

But her body was betraying her.

“You hold tension in weird places,” I murmured. “Here. Here.”

My thumb pressed into the hollow beneath her hip.

“And here.”

Her thighs squeezed around me.

“Fuck—”

That was the first time she cracked.

I kissed her.

Didn’t give her time to recover. Just took her mouth while my other hand trailed lower—slow, deliberate, every touch a question she was too breathless to answer.

When I finally pushed in again—deep, slow, cruel in the way it lingered—her whole body arched.

“Fuck—Mylo—”

“You still in control?” I whispered.

Her breath stuttered. “No.”

“Good.”

I didn’t fuck her fast. I fucked her deep. Hard enough to make the headboard thump, slow enough to make her feel every inch. I watched her try to keep up—watched her nails claw the sheets, her jaw slack, her neck arched like surrender.

I let go of her wrists.

She didn’t move them.

I leaned down, lips brushing her ear.

“Come when I say.”

She whimpered.

“Don’t.”

Another thrust—deep, angled just right—and she choked on a moan.

“Please—”

“No.”

I slowed down even more.

Her legs trembled.

I kissed her throat. Bit just lightly beneath her jaw. Her hands tangled above her head like they were the only things anchoring her.

“You like being handled,” I said. “You like being seen.”

Her voice cracked. “You don’t know me.”

“No,” I murmured. “But I’m learning fast.”

Another thrust. Another gasp.

Her breath was coming apart. Her body had started to shake. She wasn’t pretending anymore. Couldn’t. I watched her try to hang on—watched her fall apart in silence.

And I held her there.

Right on the edge.

Right where I wanted her.

Her hands finally broke free.

Not to push me off.

To grab my shoulders—nails digging, pulling like she didn’t care who was watching, like she couldn’t hold the weight anymore.

“Mylo—fuck—”

Her voice was hoarse now, shredded thin from holding back. Her thighs locked around me again, trying to pull me in faster, deeper. I didn’t let her.

I pulled back.

Slowed.

Teased the head of my cock just inside her, barely thrusting. Just enough to keep her right there. Her whole body trembled.

“Please—”

That was the first time she begged.

I didn’t move.

“Use your words.”

“I—” she choked, eyes fluttering open, lips parted. “I need it.”

“Need what?”

“You.”

“More.”

“I—I need to come. Please.”

I gave her one deep thrust. Her back arched like I’d lit a fuse.

Then I stopped again.

She screamed through her teeth, head falling back against the pillow. Her hands grabbed at me like she couldn’t decide whether to push me away or pull me under.

I kissed her jaw. Her temple. Her mouth.

“Say it again.”

“Please,” she gasped. “Please—I need to come—I need it—I can’t—”

“Good girl.”

I didn’t warn her.

I just fucked her.

Hard, deep, relentless. No space to breathe. No time to catch the rhythm—just motion, pressure, heat. Her body seized around me, but I didn’t stop. Her breath broke apart—gasps, curses, wordless cries.

And then she came.

Loud.

Whole-body shaking, legs wrapped tight around me, hands clawing down my back, voice ragged as she screamed through it.

But I didn’t stop.

I kept going.

She tried to pull away—hips twitching, thighs flinching from overstimulation—but I held her still, mouth pressed to her neck, one hand gripping her hip to keep her from slipping out of reach.

“Mylo—fuck, fuck, I—” she sobbed. “I can’t—I—”

“You can.”

“I’m—ahhh—!”

Another orgasm hit her like a shockwave.

Raw.

Messy.

She wasn’t fighting anymore—just writhing, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, sweat glistening down her stomach. Her whole body burned under me, breathless and wrecked.

And I kept going until her voice was gone.

Until her body went slack.

Until she stopped begging—

Because she had nothing left to give.

Only then did I slow down.

Only then did I kiss her again—soft, careful, like I hadn’t just broken her in half.

“You ok?” I whispered.

She didn’t speak.

Just nodded.

Barely.

The room was warm.

Not stuffy. Not heavy. Just warm in the way bodies leave behind—the kind that lives in the air after you’ve been undone.

Karina hadn’t said anything.

She lay flat on her back, one arm over her eyes, the other bent at her side, fingers brushing the sheet. Her breath was mostly steady now. Mostly. But her mouth was still parted slightly, like the air tasted different.

I stayed beside her.

Close, but not too close. Enough that if she moved, I’d feel it. Enough that if she didn’t, I’d still know she was there.

Neither of us reached for the other.

Her hair was a mess. Her lips were bitten. Her chest rose and fell with the same deliberate rhythm she used when she was trying not to react.

It was like watching someone rebuild.

Quietly. Without admitting they’d ever broken.

I let the silence stretch.

No need to rush.

Eventually, I got up. Found her water bottle on the desk. Walked it over, uncapped it, and held it out.

She didn’t move at first.

Then, slowly, she pulled her arm away from her eyes, looked at the bottle, and took it. Not with a thank-you. Not even with a nod. Just… took it. Like it was expected. Like I already knew.

She drank.

Then handed it back.

I set it down.

Still nothing.

Karina turned her face toward the ceiling. Her mouth twitched like she was about to say something, then didn’t. Instead, she closed her eyes again. Her throat moved as she swallowed. Her knuckles flexed once, then stilled.

I sat on the edge of the bed. Didn’t press. Didn’t fill the space.

Eventually, she said, voice soft but even, "You like doing that."

"What?"

"Taking control."

I waited a beat. Then said, "You don’t?"

That got a flicker of something—a breath out that was almost a laugh.

"I like winning," she said.

"Is that what this was?"

She didn’t answer.

I leaned back on my hands. Let the silence resettle.

She glanced at me again, eyes sharp now. Not guarded. Just clear. “You think you read me.”

“I think you wanted to be read.”

That made her sit up slightly. Only a little. Sheet slipping down her back.

“You think I let you?” she asked.

“I think you wanted someone to try.”

Her jaw tensed.

She turned away again, legs drawing up. Elbows on her knees now. Her fingers threaded through her hair.

I stood. Crossed the room. Grabbed her shirt from where it had been dropped. Walked it over. Held it out.

She didn’t look up.

But she took it.

Slid it over her shoulders.

Still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

"You gonna vanish now?" she asked.

I sat down beside her again. “Do you want me to?”

She didn’t respond.

But she didn’t say yes.

And she didn’t move away.

So I stayed.

My fingers brushed hers lightly where they rested on her knee. She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t react.

But she didn’t pull back either.

We stayed like that. Breathing the same air. Sitting in the quiet we’d made together.

Not soft. Not tender. Just calm.

The kind of calm that comes after the storm.

And the kind that says: this isn’t over. Not yet.

Karina shifted beside me, just enough that the sheet rustled between us. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t reach for me. But I felt the pause.

That tiny hesitation before her fingers brushed the edge of my wrist.

I didn’t move.

Her hand didn’t pull away.

For a second, we stayed like that. Not touching, not quite. Just… hovering near something we hadn’t named yet.

She sighed through her nose. Quiet. Controlled.

“I’m not good at this part,” she said.

I didn’t ask what she meant. I knew.

I let my palm slide over hers, slow, not forcing. Just contact. Just weight.

“You don’t have to be,” I said.

Another breath. Longer this time.

“You’re warm,” she murmured, almost like it annoyed her.

I half-smiled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She didn’t answer. But she didn’t pull away either.

Her fingers curled slightly around mine.

A long silence passed.

I thought she’d fallen asleep—her breathing had gone shallow again, even—but then, just when I was starting to drift, I felt her shift against me. Her voice came low. Not sleepy.

“You’re pulling back.”

I opened my eyes.

The ceiling above us hadn’t changed.

But something in the room had.

“From what?”

She was quiet for a moment. Then: “Us.”

I didn’t respond.

She turned to face me. Barely a shape in the low light. One hand traced up my chest, paused over my collarbone.

“You don’t let the others notice, do you?”

Her voice wasn’t soft. It wasn’t cruel either. Just… knowing.

I swallowed. “There’s nothing to notice.”

Karina didn’t call me on the lie.

She just nodded, like that was the answer she expected. Then whispered, almost too low to hear:

“Don’t make me chase you.”

That shook me a bit.

Not because she sounded afraid.

But because she didn’t.

I didn’t say anything.

Didn’t promise I wouldn’t disappear.

But my hand stayed over hers.

And for now—that was enough.

PART 7

#karina smut #aespa #aespa smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader

753 notes · View notes

heedthetenofwands · 6 months ago

Text

ghost x (lowkey unhinged) sunshine f!reader

suggestive nsfw (but non-explicit)

His girl was the sweetest thing. Smile as bright as the sun and you looked at him like he’d hung the stars and the moon. Coming home to you was always the highlight of his day.

But something was amiss ever since a week ago.

He had come back from base, a day of planning for the next mission and cleaning up from the last, and his heart yearned to be at home with you. Stepping through the front door, he was ready to hear his bird chirping his name and telling him about the day. But the house was silent, the lights were off, and he couldn’t hear a thing.

He waited a moment before calling out your name. It was only when he walked up the stairs to the bedroom that he saw you sitting on the edge of the bed. Your back was to the door.

“Love?” He called to you. You turned your head back to see him before standing up and making your way around the bed to smile and greet him. You hug him tightly, a bit firmer than usual and he had to brace his core a little in surprise. You let go and look at him with an innocent smile.

“Did you have a good day?” You asked.

“It was OK, better now.” He replies. You continue staring at him, almost in contemplation and, without blinking, kiss his cheek and move out of the room.

Alarms bells are ringing.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"There's something wrong." He confesses to them at drinks after work a couple days later. "She's angry."

"Your bonnie? She doesnae seem ta have a malicious bone in 'er. I'm sure it'll pass." Soap says.

Ghost grunts dismissively. "Never been this long."

Gaz hums in thought, "Did you forget a date?"

Ghost stays quiet but Gaz doesn't miss the confused stare. He clarifies, "Birds care about 'em. 1st anniversary, birthdays, the milestones. Can fall through the cracks if you're not careful though."

Ghost replies, "Maybe." In his mind, he's already running his fingers through their calendar.

Price cuts through, "Why not just ask 'er?" Straight to the point, as Ghost expected.

He leans back, "Rather not." Ghost knows he's hiding the real answer. What do I do if I can't fix it?

Price looks at him, assesses him and sees right through him. But before he can press further, Ghost hears his phone buzz. He pulls it out of his pocket and after reading the message from you, grumbles a quiet 'fuck' that draws the attention of his team. They lean over to catch a glimpse of the message.

The screen showed previous conversations between the lieutenant and his girl, you sending him your texts with smiley faces, hearts or emoticons with every message. That is, until your latest one which read:

Love: pick up bread on your way home.

The team winced at the cold tone.

"Good luck, mate."

"Warning ya, bakery closes earlier than usual today."

"You're fucked."

Ghost glares at them all before standing up and leaving.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The rest of the week had followed similarly with you just not acting like you're usual self.

That Friday it was your turn to pick a film to watch, where you would usually put on a cheesy rom-com or a tense-filled drama, that night it was a R18 horror movie. Ghost did not utter a single complaint when you put it on. Or move an inch when you lay your head on his chest and smiled at a scene where a cheating husband and his mistress get sliced in two.

Where you two would usually stay in bed together to bask the warm glow of a slow Sunday morning, instead, Simon woke alone. He called your phone again and again until you came home a couple hours later. You ignored his questions. Fearing the worst, he let it go.

And the bite of your finger nails into his skin got stronger and stronger every night as you two lay in bed. It was as is if you were clutching or branding onto him with all your might.

It was later that week, that Simon decided to was time to ask. Time to confront the dissonance that was ringing louder and louder in his ears whenever you touched him, looked at him and smiled at him.

He was going to do it. Right after dinner, he was going to do it.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Ghost, in fact, did nothing after dinner because as soon as you had gathered up the plates. You had returned with a cake.

You brought it to the table. “I know how much you love my desserts, Si. It's been forever since I've made one so I thought I would make your favourite today." You sit down before adding, "I've changed it up a bit, too. New ingredient and whatever.”

Ghost stills at that. “What’s the ingredient, darling?” He says as casually, as he could. Cyanide? Arsenic?

You smile sweetly at him, “It’s a surprise Si, where’s the fun in knowing before tasting it?”

“Right.” He replies, hesitantly.

You start cutting a slice, and place it on his plate before sitting down and waiting for him.

He takes the fork. "You're not hungry, love?"

You shake your head, "I want to see your reaction."

There's a moment where Ghost is trying to remember the poison hotline contact number so he could ring it after his 'taste test' but he finally breaks.

“Nope, can’t do this anymore.” He says.

“Can’t do what, Simon?” You asked with faux concern. You stand up and come to his side of the table to face him. “What��s wrong, baby? You're going to love it.”

“Did I forget an anniversary? Your birthday?” He thought aloud. He doubted it, but he must have done something wrong. He reaches for your arms and gently pulls you to stand in front of him, he holds your hands and bows his head before you. “Tell me love, have I been neglecting you? Spending too much time at work? You can tell me.”

You gently remove your hands from his hold, moving one hand to cup his cheek and the other to tilt his chin so he could meet your gaze. At first, he leans into the gentle palm of your hand but the cold look in your eye with that small smile of your lips makes him freeze.

“Don’t bullshit me, Riley.” Your voice cuts through the candlelit room. He has to fight to not let this do something to him. It gets worse when you use both of your hands to cup his jaw and force his head upwards to meet your gaze. “I found a second phone when I was sorting the laundry. There was a message from another woman. Asking if you would be coming over that night. What a greedy fucker you are.” He has to fight any sound that may escape from his lips at seeing you speak so harsh. “You listen to me, Simon.” His eyes widen as you close the distance of your face to his and your lips are so close. He wants to kiss you. “I will fucking kill her.”

Ghost had no idea what was happening, mind moving too fast and too slow all at once. All he could do was focus on his sweetheart's voice. You stand upright, move closer to Ghost, forcing him to spread his thighs so you can stand between them and press his face to your form, stroking the back of his head, his shoulders, his back as if to soothe and comfort. “I am yours. You made it so. And now, you are mine too."

He can't help the chills running down his spine as he laid his head against your body and felt the presses of your touch. You tell him, “All you need to do is give me her name and where I can find her. And after tonight, we can forget all about this, my love. If you work hard enough, I will forgive you. And in time, I will ask you what deficit I had to make you think you can replace me."

You sigh, "I gave you all week to confess, but you have no shame do you?"

Finally, Ghost's mind seems to catch up, "Wait, wait, sweetheart I don't have a second phone." At that, you tighten the hand in his hair, grabbing a good chunk of the back of his head. He whines at the sensation, "I swear, love." But you do not yield.

His mind is racing.

A second phone?

And finally, he realises. "Sweetheart, wait. It's Johnny's. He mentioned that he lost his phone, the idiot must've dropped in my gym bag. That's why you found it."

Your body stills. "Are you sure, Si?"

While you stay still, Ghost only wraps his arms around you, nestling his face against the warmth of your body and your hesitance. He pleads, "On my life. Call him, darling. Please."

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

A phone call later, you confirm that Soap indeed dropped his phone, and was seeing the woman you saw in the notifactions. With a sinking feeling, you return to the kitchen table.

"Si, I'm so sorry." You tell him, tears already brimming your water line. "I should've just asked you-" Before you can say another word, Ghost had already stood up and embraced you. You sink against him.

You should have never doubted a starving dog.

Ghost smiles as he releases you from his hold, "You still want dessert?" He looks back at the cake.

You only giggle, "Yes, let's eat. Not that one though." You ignore Ghost's questioning gaze as you walk to the fridge, humming a small tune, and then pull out another identitical cake. You set it on the table, smiling innocently as the blood drains from Ghost's face. "Let's eat, Si."

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #cod #so sorry if the ending seems abrupt #also not proofread towards end #lowkey insane readers you have my heart <3 #ghost x you #ghost x y/n

1K notes · View notes

whytheylosttheirminds · 7 months ago

Text

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 6 (part two)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.1k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! suggestive moments, mature readers only please!

You and Carter didn’t fight, it just didn’t happen.

Like any sisters, you got on each other’s nerves, you disagreed on things, you borrowed each other’s clothes without asking - but you didn’t fight.

Growing up, your parents fought all the time. You and Carter would sit in her bedroom and listen to music, talking and laughing and pretending not to hear. Ever since then, you had a silent agreement; you didn’t fight and you never raised your voices at each other.

The problem with this system was that you were never quite sure when she was upset with you. Your stomach churned the whole rest of your shower, as she stood uncharacteristically quiet at the bathroom sink and did her makeup.

Maybe she hadn’t heard you, or maybe she had just hated your words so much that she couldn’t even respond to them. You knew she wouldn’t like it when you admitted that you’d be with Rafe if he asked you, but pretending it had never been said seemed particularly childish.

A little while later, you sat on a stool in front of the bathroom mirror as she did your hair and makeup. You found your eyes continually drifting up to her, searching for any sign of anger. When a full half-an-hour passed and she still hadn’t responded to your comments about Rafe, you broke down and asked, “are you mad at me?”

“For what?” She scrunched her eyebrows.

“For what I said in the shower,” you wrung your hands in your lap, not sure you wanted the answer.

“Bitch, you know I have the short term memory of an ant, you’re gonna have to give me more to work with.”

You laughed at her bluntness, the lightheartedness of her words relaxing you enough to face your fear.

“What I said about Rafe,” you said. “That I’d be with him if he asked me to.”

She paused her work on your hair, setting the brush down and meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“When did you say that?” She twisted her lips.

“When you came back in, while I was in the shower.”

She shook her head, “must’ve been talking to someone else because I’ve definitely never heard you say that. I feel like I would’ve remembered something so insane.”

You looked down at your hands in your lap, playing the whole thing back in your mind. You had definitely heard someone come in, the door squeaking at their arrival. That means someone else in the house was walking around with your deepest secret. And now Carter knew it too.

“Oh,” you said. “Never mind then.”

“Yeah right, you really think I’m just gonna move on from that?” Carter put her hands on her hips.

“We could just pretend I never said anything,” you shrugged.

“Yes you know me,” Carter rolled her eyes, “I’m famous for letting things go and being super chill when I hear someone say something batshit crazy.”

You sighed, “okay fine, but what you didn’t hear was me following the statement up by saying I know I shouldn’t be with him ‘cause I’d probably hate myself the whole time.”

Carter started working on your hair again, her contorted face betraying her attempt to act casual.

“Please just say whatever you’re thinking,” you urged her.

“I don’t want to tell you what to do,” she replied.

You snorted, “since when?”

“I just, like, ugh,” she dropped her head back in frustration. “Why him? Like I’ve never understood. What is it about him?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I’ve never really known. He’s just…”

“Arrogant, selfish, a bully…” she finished your sentence for you.

“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“Just be careful, okay?” She placed her hands on your shoulders, meeting your eye in the mirror. “I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“I know,” you nodded. “I will be.”

“If Rafe Cameron has zero haters then I am dead,” she concluded.

“I know that too,” you smiled.

Carter leaned past you to collect a couple bobby pins from the bathroom sink, her shirt slipping slightly off her shoulder and revealing a patch of deep purple marks.

“Oh my god,” you squealed. “Are those hickies?!”

She dragged her shirt back over her shoulder defensively.

“No! I fell!”

“Uh-huh, right onto Topper’s mouth apparently!” You poked her side, teasing her.

“Shut up,” she smiled and you cackled.

After that, the Rafe conversation was dropped as you pressed Carter for more details on her hook up with Topper. She tried to play cool, but you could tell there was something more going on under the surface that she didn’t want to say. You decided to be patient, if she was going to finally come to terms with her feelings for him, she was going to do it all on her own.

When she was finally done with your hair and makeup, you inspected yourself in the mirror.

“Baddie,” she winked at you.

You blushed, “alright let’s go, the boys are probably waiting.”

Carter stood back and crossed her arms, giving you an incredulous look.

“What?” You questioned.

“You’re not wearing that.”

You looked down at your outfit, a crop top, black jeans, and boots. You thought it was a perfectly acceptable clubbing outfit, but Carter clearly disagreed.

“Why not?”

“We’re going out to, like, clubs. In downtown Miami. You gotta stunt on ‘em a little bit,” she argued.

“I am! Look how tight these jeans are,” you did a spin to display your point.

“Good thing I brought the perfect dress in your size for just such an occasion,” she ignored you.

“Oh okay so this was a premeditated makeover?” You smiled.

She ran down the hall to her room and returned with a lacy, red minidress. Knowing you’d lose any argument you posed, you changed into it reluctantly. The corset top hugged your waist, pushing your chest up. Your shoulders slumped instinctually, like you could hide away in yourself. You’d come a long way on your self-love journey, but your self-doubt still crept in from time to time.

As per usual, Carter sensed it right away.

“Shoulders back, head up,” Carter reminded you. “Let ‘em know.”

You took a deep breath, nodding in the mirror, choosing to leave your insecurities behind. You’d borrow her faith in you for just one night.

As Carter, Maddie and Sabrina did their final touch ups and compared outfits, you pulled on your heels and headed downstairs. The other girls didn’t seem concerned with punctuality, but you were sure Topper was probably freaking out about how long they were taking.

It wasn’t Topper you found in the kitchen, though.

Rafe stood at the sink with his back to you, his black button up pulled taught over his defined back muscles as he stared off into space and the cup in his hand overflowed.

You smiled, holding your shoulders back as Carter had taught you, bracing for him to see you in this dress.

“Thirsty?”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

He felt his resolve break with the rest of his brain, dizzy and drowning in the sight of you. He had the ridiculous urge to shield his eyes, like he was hiding them from the sun, your beauty too overwhelming to gaze directly at.

He set the glass down on the counter, drying his hands with a nearby towel, never once breaking eye contact with you.

Licking his lips quickly, he shamelessly let his eyes drag over your bare legs and up your body, knowing full well you could see him take in every inch of you. He didn’t care, he needed you to understand what you were doing to him.

When his eyes finally landed on yours, he clenched his jaw tight, nostrils flaring with his rising pulse. He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes, telling you silently: you’re killing me.

“You like it?” You whispered, running your hands over the lacy fabric.

Rafe opened his mouth to answer, planning something along the lines of “do I like it? Are you fucking kidding me?” but before he could, the rest of the girls came clamorring down the stairs behind you, stealing the moment.

At the sound of clicking heels and giggles, the rest of the boys came filing into the room.

Rafe gave you one more longing look before handing Kelce the glass of water. Kelce tried to protest, but Rafe shoved it in his hands anyway.

“We’re not leaving ‘til you drink it,” Rafe scolded him.

“Taking over Topper’s mom duties?” Maddie laughed at the exchange.

“No, Rafe’s much more dad vibes,” Carter countered.

“Yes and mom and dad will be pissed if our Ubers leave, so let’s go children,” Topper herded the group toward the front door.

Rafe took the now empty glass from Kelce and left it in the sink, and you lingered back for a second, pretending to fix your shoe so you’d both end up at the back of the pack. He watched as you bent down and fiddled with the slingback, hovering close when you stood.

“Nice dress,” he mumbled down to you.

“You think so?” You twisted your lips to keep from beaming at him, trying to maintain some semblance of nonchalance.

“There’s not much of it,” he teased, scratching the back of his head as he looked down over the lacy fabric. “But yeah, it’s nice.”

“You gonna give me the ‘you’re not leaving the house in that, young lady’ treatment?” You pressed him. “You really are like the dad.”

“Why? Would you change if I told you to?” He asked skeptically.

“Not a fucking chance,” you scoffed, swinging your hips as you spun and made for the front door.

He was really planning on staying away from you? What a fucking joke. He followed you out of the house like you had him on a leash. He was in for a long night.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

It took all of five minutes for Carter to grab Topper’s hand and pull him to the corner of the club, and it took even less time for their close talking to become a full on makeout.

You smirked at them as you ordered another drink, knowing you’d need something to help you get through this evening if Carter wasn’t going to be by your side. You could feel Tom’s eyes on you as he approached from the other side of the bar.

The whole Uber here, Tom had been eyeing you in the rear view mirror from the front seat. The only stare that made you more uncomfortable was Sabrina’s. It couldn’t be more clear that she’d grown attached to him on their jet ski ride, laughing loud at his unfunny jokes and hovering in his vicinity all night. You had unwittingly fallen into a love triangle you wanted nothing to do with.

You could feel his attempt to hit on you before he even spoke.

“Put her drink on my tab,” Tom told the bartender.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” you said, not wanting to give him any openings.

“Not a problem,” he said. “I know I’ve been kind of a jerk today, the least I can do is buy you a drink to say sorry.”

The bartender handed you the glass, and you immediately took a sip, fiddling with the straw uncomfortably.

“Sorry for what?” You feigned ignorance.

“Last night, I didn’t mean to make you feel weird,” he said, stepping closer to you. He clearly couldn’t see the irony that he was apologizing for making you feel weird while actively making you feel weird. “I just think you’re really cool and I wanted to get to know you better.”

He was crowding your space now, the scent of his heavy cologne choking your senses. Just a few days ago, you found the same smell enticing, but now, there was only one person you wanted standing this close.

Your eyes flicked over Tom’s shoulder, scanning the crowd for him. You found him leaning against the wall, Kelce talking to him emphatically about something you couldn’t hear. You didn’t have to get his attention, his eyes were already on you. Tight lipped smile, you flicked your eyes between him and Tom, trying to communicate your need for his assistance.

Rafe didn’t need anything more to understand what you were asking, tuned in to your every move and sensing your need for him before you even caught his eye. He pushed off the wall and left Kelce talking to no one so he could shove his way through the crowd. Taller than almost everyone, you tracked him the whole way through the sea of people. Tom seemed none the wiser, continuing hitting on you.

“Maybe we could get out of here,” Tom suggested, leaning in a little too close so you could hear him over the music.

“Nah, not tonight bro.”

Rafe appeared by your side just in time, forcing Tom to take a step back as he draped his arm over your shoulders possessively. Tom’s eyes flew between the two of you as you reached up to the hand on your shoulder and threaded your fingers with Rafe’s. Relief swelled through your body as Tom stepped back. You leaned into Rafe’s hold more, wrapping your arm around his waist and giving him a grateful squeeze. You knew he felt it when you saw his mouth perk up at the corners. But he didn’t take his eyes off Tom, his work here unfinished.

“Since when are you two together?” Tom puzzled defensively.

“Look man, why don’t you go find, uh, Sabrina,” Rafe waved him off. “Or literally any other girl here.”

As if Rafe’s suggestion had summoned her, Sabrina appeared at Tom’s side.

“Oh my god,” she slurred, eyes red and glossy with intoxication. “Are y’all a thing now? Girl, I never thought you’d actually do it. Good for you!”

It had the cadence of women supporting women, but the undertone was clear. You didn’t miss the disbelief in her tone, subtly trying to cut you down while appearing to lift you up. If Carter was here, she’d bitch her out. But you didn’t need saving from this one.

You tightened your hold on Rafe’s hand, swinging his arm from around your shoulders but not letting go. You pulled him away from Tom and Sabrina, leading him deep into the crowd on the dancefloor.

Before he had the chance to ask what you were doing, you placed his hands on your waist, spinning in his grasp until your back was flush with his chest and moving to the music. He made no protest, squeezing you between his hands and swaying along with you. Tom and Sabrina watched from across the room, his jaw clenched and her arms crossed.

After a few minutes, both sets of eyes eventually left you, but you didn’t notice, and you didn’t stop. It wasn’t for show anymore. You closed your eyes as you continued to let the music move you. Rafe’s strong arms on either side of you, your brain flashed images of his half naked body in the kitchen and how he kneeled in front of you in the basement. The same fingertips that had so gently caressed your calf were now burrowing into the soft flesh of your hips. One of your arms stretched up, your palm finding the back of his neck, kneading his skin as you clung to him.

When you looked up to meet his eyes, they were ablaze with pure lust. Your lips parted to tell him you felt it too, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Instead you showed him, your body moving through the music like water. The bass pumped through your chest, tangling with your thumping heart beat until you couldn’t tell which was which.

Rafe held you tight against him, like if he let you go you might slip under the waves again. His head sank low, until the tip of his nose was grazing just over the curve of your neck. He was hardly moving, not so much dancing as swaying, letting you do the work his eyes drank in every inch of your body.

With a precise roll of your hips, you pushed against him, and you nearly gasped at the feeling of something hard and demanding pressing into your hip. Your lips twisted with the sweetest satisfaction.

“Thought you were trying to be a gentleman,” you said over the music.

“I was,” he brought his lips to your ear so you could hear him. “But you’re making it too fucking hard.”

Smirking, you twisted in his arms until you were facing each other. You both caught the accidental euphemism and met eyes, breaking into matching laughter.

“You know what I mean,” he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think I do,” you teased with a quirked eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

His smile fell, as did his hands, lowering from your waist to your hips. You reached both arms up, wrapping around his neck and lacing your fingers behind him.

His eyes swept over your face as he whispered, “you look so-”

“Cute?”

You meant it in jest, but he didn’t laugh. His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched as he took you in, serious as hell when he said,

“So fucking beautiful.”

You shuddered in his arms, and he ran his hand down your exposed back, tracing his fingers delicately over your spine.

“Been driving me crazy since I saw you on the beach,” he continued.

His hand kept falling lower, though it slowed as it reached your lower back, asking for permission with his hesitancy. Your body arched into him without even thinking about it. His palm glided over your ass, the soft fabric of your dress and your plush flesh beneath it pulling an involuntary groan from him. He went lower still, slotting his fingers in the crease where your ass meets your thigh, lingering, setting up camp like he’d stay there all night if you let him. He found the spot so deliberately that you knew he’d been thinking about it for days.

You waited with baited breath, your silence inviting him to keep talking.

All he said next was your name. It was low and needy, like a request, or maybe a warning. Flames erupted in your stomach and sent a hot blush sweeping across your body.

“Do you…” your throat tightened with vulnerability, “do you want to go somewhere?”

Yes, Rafe thought, anywhere, for any amount of time.

But there was a small voice in the back of his head giving him pause. Your voice, earlier today in the shower, when you thought you were talking to someone else.

“I don’t want you to hate yourself,” he shook his head, sad eyes falling from your face to his shoes.

You tilted your head as you examined him, unsure for a moment what he meant. Then it clicked, realizing those were your words on his lips. He was the one who heard you in the bathroom. You fought the temptation to run away in embarrassment when you remembered what else he must’ve heard.

After all you’d admitted to, the piece he was clearly holding onto was the only part you didn’t actually mean. You had added the detail about hating yourself when you thought you were talking to Carter and that she was upset with you.

It was too much to explain to him there on the crowded dance floor. You slipped your hand into his and pulled him from the crowd, out a side door and into the alleyway.

Once outside, you tucked your hair behind your ears and looked down anxiously at your feet. The loss of the music and the sobering night air weakened the boldness you had mustered inside.

“When you said we should go somewhere I wasn’t picturing so much garbage,” Rafe motioned towards the nearby dumpster.

You laughed, his playful words successfully easing your nerves. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself why you’d brought him out here.

“You heard me, didn’t you? In the shower?”

“I’m sorry,” he blushed, caught red handed. “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything. But…yeah.”

“I didn’t mean it,” you told him.

Hurt flashed in his eyes for just a second, before he nodded and squared his shoulders to cover it up.

“Got it,” he shrugged.

“No, I mean, the hating myself part,” you clarified.

“So the other stuff…?” He was quick to follow up.

The door for you to finally tell him how you felt was wide open in front of you, but you weren’t sure if you could walk through it. The words you’d been holding back your whole life sat on the tip of your tongue, but refused to pass your lips. You looked at him helplessly.

“I can’t,” you shook your head.

Rafe sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“What? You can’t what?”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief, incensed that he was the one with an attitude here.

“You know what?” You said, hands on your hips. “I don’t think you have a lot of room to be snapping at me, Rafe. Not after everything you’ve done.”

“Everything I’ve done?” He huffed. “Please, tell me what I did that’s so terrible?”

“Seriously? High school wasn’t that long ago, Rafe.”

“Look I know I was a dick, okay?” He stepped forward, voice softening a bit with his apology. “And maybe you’ll never forgive me. But all that shit? That guy? That’s in the past, and I don’t want to talk about the past anymore, I just wanna be with you now.”

“I don’t know, Rafe,” you shook your head sadly. “I don’t know if I can just pretend none of that happened.”

“How long then?” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Tell me how long I’m gonna be paying for some shit I did when I was seventeen so I at least have an idea, please. Give me a date so I can plan for it.”

“Let’s see, Rafe, I wanted you for twelve years, you’ve wanted me for like two days. Does that seem even to you?”

Your words struck him, the anger in his eyes dissolving, replaced with tenderness. He stepped towards you tentatively, ducking just a bit to better read your face.

“You really think I’ve only wanted you for two days?” He mumbled softly. “Baby…”

It was the second time he’d called you that today. You were in too much pain when he said it after you fell off the jet ski, but your brain had tucked it away subconsciously to revisit when you felt better. He’d called you baby before, when you were in high school. It had always given you butterflies, and you never called attention to it, afraid he’d stop if he realized how much it meant to you.

Since then, you’d reframed the memories to convince yourself that he never actually meant it, that it was some kind of manipulation tactic. But the way it rolled so naturally off his tongue earlier, and the way he’d breathed it so desperately now, made you reconsider.

“Please don’t call me that,” you pleaded. “Not if you don’t mean it.”

Rafe just blinked back at you, not an ounce of deception in his voice when he said, “I’ve always meant it.”

His confession pinched your heart, the whole story rewriting itself in your mind. For the first time ever, you let yourself actually believe that he cared for you, that he’d always cared for you. To anyone else who knew the whole story, it might seem unlikely, but seeing the look in his eyes right now, you had never been so sure of anything in your life.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him, your deep longing for him stronger than ever. He felt it too, you could tell by the way he drew closer, his body lining up with yours, eyes locked to your lips.

With the most tenderness you’ve ever encountered, he reached his hand up, the pad of his thumb landing on your bottom lip and pulling it gently from between your teeth, undoing you.

“Rafe…” you whispered, a plea and a question, as his lips ghosted over yours.

“Can I?” He breathed. “Please?”

You nodded, never meaning anything more than when you told him “yes.”

(chapter 7)

a/n: chat what do we think? are we forgiving him? only 3 chapters to goooo. Also I wrote “shoulders back. head up. let ‘em know.” on my bathroom mirror as my new morning mantra 💘

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

2K notes · View notes

springintosummerxx · 7 days ago

Text

ᡣ𐭩 certified loverboy ᡣ𐭩

op81 x reader

in which oscar is a certified loverboy!

warnings: suggestive, fluff, bit of pining

notes: this takes place in the downbad!universe, however it can be read as a standalone :)

word count: 1.9 k

masterlist

oscar piastri is not a jealous man.

since childhood, he's always known exactly who he was, what he wanted and what he was worth. his mother had raised him to appreciate what he accomplished, to be humble but proud of his achievements.

even in prema, he had a strong sense of self, of what he brought to the table.

but seeing you, laughing with lando across the room as zak held him hostage about something to do with turn three, he can admit easily he is jealous.

it's not that he doesn't trust you; he's letting you cradle his heart in your hands already.

stupid, he thinks, as lando says something that makes you hide a smile behind your hand. a pit is growing in his stomach, something hollow and grasping.

but if he's honest, he will always be jealous of anyone, anything that has the honour of basking in your sunshine, in the pretty split of your smile that tangles into all of your features.

"oscar?" zak asks.

"sorry," he offers a sheepish smile, eyes darting back to where you and his teammate are standing.

his team principal lets him go after a few more minutes, and oscar tries to subtly speed walk over to you.

lando greets him with another "congrats" and a handshake, looping you in for an one armed hug you return loosely.

as soon as he leaves, oscar's hands are slipping around your waist.

"hi, winner," you grin brightly, fingers smoothing his unruly hair and wiping some sweat from his forehead.

"sweetheart," he greets, pressing his exertion-warmed cheek to yours.

you hum quietly, hands gentle over his sore shoulders. he doesn't want to part from you, your warmth, but a mclaren photographer interrupts you with a shutter-click.

he smiles sheepishly, gesturing for the two of you to pose.

sighing, oscar maneuvers you slightly in front of him, resting his cheek on the top of your head.

his smile is exhausted but content, yours is proud and soft. he almost forgets that ugly feeling he'd felt earlier.

as you climb onto the bed later that night, a little clumsily in a tank top and an old pair of his basketball shorts, he clears his throat.

you're choosing some romcom to play as he scoots closer to you.

"you cold, baby?" you ask. he shakes his head, feeling the warmth of blood rushing to his face.

oblivious to his emotional torture of how to bring up the whole...situation, you snuggle back into the pillows.

although you and oscar have been dating for a while now, sometimes he still gets a little shy when asking for affection. it's unusal for him, to want to touch and be near someone all the time.

your eyes flicker to him and a soft smile - so intimate and familiar that it makes his chest ache - appears on your face.

without a word, you pat your lap and he shifts down to press his face into your stomach, the side of his head resting high on your thighs.

he grumbles comfortably, settling into the bed as you card careful fingers through his still-damp hair.

"tired?" you ask quietly, as the opening credits of 10 things i hate about you start. he shakes his head, burying his face deeper and inhaling your body wash through your tank top.

when his arms tighten around your waist, your fingers stop their meticulous combing.

oscar huffs, peeking at you.

your frowning, and he wants to smooth out the crease between your brows.

"what's wrong?" you ask, thumb brushing gently under his eye.

he feels stupid, but he can't deny you of anything, so he answers, "i saw you and lando today."

you shift underneath him, "yeah, he was keeping me company while you talked to zak,"

"he was making you laugh," he mutters, hiding his face.

"wait," you pull him up, "are you jealous?"

he shakes his head, cheeks pink, but his fingers have unconsiously found their way underneath your knees, pressing the soft flesh there.

laughing softly - not meanly, never mean - you cup his face.

"oscar jack piastri," you say solemnly, "you have nothing to be jealous about. i only have eyes for you, and nobody else."

he's sure that his face is 50 shades of red, but your words settle the pit in his stomach, replacing that hollowness with that certain warmth he's come to associate with you, with the feeling of home.

"plus, we were talking about you. lando was telling me about how much you talk about me," you tease slyly, and he tackles you into the bed.

you let out a loud squeal, pinned under his full weight.

when you both settle again, the movie playing quietly in the background, you murmur "i love you, baby" so quietly and earnestly into his ear that he forgot why he was feeling so down in the first place.

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

oscar piastri is not clingy.

he prides himself on his independence, the fact that he moved away from his parents in his early teens - and survived - is a testament to how indepedent he is.

but all of that is thrown out the window when he comes home from a triple header.

you're waiting for him, cozy in a pair of sweatpants and an oversized mclaren hoodie. soft, he thinks, is how you look, all barefaced and sleep-deprived.

he drops his bags on the floor of the entryway, pulling you into his chest.

your breath is warm on his neck, your fingers curling into the fabric at his waist.

murmuring a greeting, you turn in his arms to lead the both of you back to the bedroom. he doesn't want to let go; he keeps his arms locked around your shoulders, and you waddle together, collapsing onto the bed.

tucking him in, you ask, "hungry?"

"no, just tired," he smiles, tugging you into him by the wrist.

"sleep." he tells you, and you giggle, pressing your back to his front.

oscar sleeps well for the first time since he left you at home in monaco, the scent of your shampoo lulling him to close his eyes.

when he wakes, it's from one of those naps that leaves your mouth dry and your eyes sealed shut.

reaching for you, all he feels is the warmth you've left behind.

grumpily he gets up, stumbling towards the sound of your singing.

in the kitchen is where he finds you, plating up his favourite pasta.

"you're awake," you say, surprised. he shuffles behind you, nose pressed against your neck in greeting.

"go sit, handsome. i'll be a second. there's cookies in the oven."

he ignores your request, instead murmuring, "you take such good care of me."

you answer with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and laugh loudly when he chases your lips.

"go, sit!" you exclaim. he pretends he doesn't hear you, arms locked around your waist.

after nearly flinging a plate off the counter, you end up on the kitchen island, oscar holding a massive plate between you as he leans between your legs.

you twirl the pasta carefully, and he opens his mouth so you can feed him.

"you are such a baby," you tease, and he shrugs, unabashed.

"just missed you," he confesses, and rolls his eyes when you melt.

"there's going to be headlines," you push another mouthful towards him, "oscar piastri, 2025 race leader and secret romantic."

"not secret," he says with his mouth full, and laughs when you slap a hand over his mouth.

when he swallows, he kisses you between your eyebrows, relishing in the lack of crease there. you're happy he's home, and that's all that matters.

"not secret?" you ask.

"just circumstantial," he grins, "only for you."

you slump against him, nearly getting sauce all over your (his) hoodie.

"i missed you too, you sap."

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

oscar piastri does not like shopping.

his closet can attest to that, most of his outfits are repeated so much that paddock photographers are sick of him.

one thing he does like though, is sitting in a dressing room watching you try on dresses.

it's probably the third store you've been to today, and the floor of the room is already scattered with bags.

he's paid for everything, to your dismay. no way he's letting his girl pay with her hard-earned money when he can spoil her with whatever he wants.

"zip me up?" you ask. he obliges, watching you with hooded eyes as you turn gracefully.

"oscar," you whine, "i said zip up, not down!"

he smirks, lips finding their way to the gentle slope of your shoulder.

"later," you scold, shooting him a look through the mirror.

huffing something about too much clothes and zippers, he slides it up, nudging your cheek with his nose until you smile, eyes bright.

"what do you think?" you ask, and he sits again, smoothing a hand down your thigh.

"beautiful," and you groan at his answer.

"you've said that about everything!"

"because it's true, pretty."

you flush, turning away, picking up a light orange dress.

when you slip it on, oscar voluntarily stands to zip you up.

"this one," he says too quickly.

you smirk at him, "oh really?"

oscar pulls you close, "like you in my colour."

smiling in earnest now, you ask "is this some neanderthal thing?"

"sure, sweetheart. whatever you want to think."

and when you get home and try on the dress for him again, he admits that shopping isn't that bad, not at all.

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

oscar piastri is not a sentimental man.

he's never cared for material things, always valuing your time spent together at home, tucked under the washed-soft comforter with you curled up under his arm.

but the first time he had to leave for a race, he was thinking about you so much that he saw a little magnet in your favourite colour and bought in on a whim.

the way your eyes had shone, with emotion and tears had scared him at first.

"did i do something wrong?" he'd asked panicked, but you shook your head.

"no, it's just," you' d sniffed, "no ones really ever thought of me this much. it's nice."

after that day, he brings you back a magnet after every race.

sometimes he'll bring something else too, a hat he thinks you'll like, a piece of jewelry that matches your eyes or even a candy from a local convenience store he prays will pass TSA.

but always a magnet. something a little bright and cheerful, not to make up for the hours and miles spent away from each other, but a reminder that he thinks of you, always.

you tell him one night, that it surprises you how consistent he is. how he never forgets, even if he has a bad race or he's so jet lagged he mistakes the morning for night.

he had responded with a sigh, one full of promises he's going to see through, full of future plans when everything settles down.

he tells you modestly that it's not much, not when you call him every day and every night, when you watch every sprint, every race.

you deserve the world, and if all it takes is for him to buy you enough trinkets to fill every book shelve in your shared apartment or enough magnets to fill the fridge and for you to use as paperweights, he'll do it.

because when it comes to you, oscar piastri is a certified loverboy, through and through.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 drabble #f1 fic #formula 1 #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff #op81 x reader #op81 #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 2025 #mclaren

594 notes · View notes

reidsworld · 9 months ago

Text

Patience Wears Thin

Summary: Logan’s flirty behaviour has you thinking he’s just being sarcastic. But when his attitude changes and his grumpiness intensifies, leading to him avoiding you, you confront him, only for him to finally snap. Based on this request.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Reader’s oblivious, mild language, sexual tension, slight jealous!logan, making out, hickeys, oral sex(m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), creampie, (semi) public sex (you’ll see what I mean), no use of Y/N, pet names (darlin’) — you are responsible for the content you consume, if you are not comfortable with any of these warnings or are a minor, DNI!!

Word Count: 2.9k

Mars speaks… It's been a while since I’ve posted but here we are!! Thank you for the request, this was kinda tough for me to write and didn’t really turn out how I wanted it but I hope it meets your expectations! The reader is a mutant but her powers aren’t specified. Any and all feedback is always appreciated!

Masterlist

You were used to Logan’s gruffness, but lately, something had changed. At first, it was little things—him hanging around more often, offering to help with tasks that didn’t need his strength, or staying close by even when you were just making coffee. You noticed the way his hand would brush against yours when passing you something or how he’d rest his hand on your shoulder a little longer than necessary. Despite all of his actions, he was still cold around you, seemingly never able to escape his own grumpiness.

One evening, as you were getting ready for a date, Logan wandered by your room. His mood was clearly off as he knocked leaned against your door frame, his eyes closed and head tilted down. When you greeted him, he slowly looked you up and down. His expression shifted from frustration to shock as he took in how stunning you looked.

“Damn,” Logan said, his voice cold and deep, if you didn’t know him, you would’ve sworn he hated you. “You look incredible. Got a big night planned?”

You glanced up from the mirror, surprised by his comments. “Oh, I have a date tonight,” you replied with a smile, still adjusting your dress.

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly as he processed your words. “A date, huh?”

“Yep,” you said, focusing on your reflection. “I’m just trying to pick the right outfit.”

He pushed himself off the door frame, his gaze still fixed on you. “You don’t need to be worried about impressing anyone tonight, darlin’. Trust me, you look incredible.”

You laughed, thinking he was just being his usual flirtatious self. “Thanks, Logan. But it’s just dinner. Nothing too serious.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he took a step back, his demeanour now distant. “Right. Well, have fun.”

You smiled at him, not noticing the shift in his attitude. “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

As you left for your date, Logan watched you go, his face a mask of frustration and disappointment. The knowledge that you were going out with someone else hit him hard, and his mood darkened.

You were left puzzled by his sudden change in behaviour. However, in Logan’s mind, if you were going out with someone else, you clearly didn’t want him, so why should he put effort into a losing game?

But you didn’t think much of his compliments, chalking it up to Logan trying to be supportive. Until one day, you noticed something different—he started avoiding you.

It began with him skipping out on the usual training sessions you shared. Then, he stopped joining you for movie nights in the common room, always coming up with a vague excuse that didn’t make sense. He’d disappear for hours, not even leaving a trace of his familiar scent behind. The final straw was when he didn’t show up for your breakfast dates (well… that’s what they were to him), a ritual he never missed. It was confusing, and you couldn’t figure out what had changed.

You asked him once, in passing, if something was wrong. His answer was clipped, dismissive. “Nothin’ for you to worry about, darlin’.”

But you were worried. His behaviour was off, and no matter how much you replayed your interactions in your mind, you couldn’t pinpoint what had triggered this sudden shift.

A few days later, you walked into the kitchen to find Logan grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Relief washed over you—this was the first time you’d seen him in days without him immediately bolting. But when you greeted him, he barely grunted in response, not meeting your eyes.

“Logan, seriously,” you said, trying to sound casual but unable to keep the concern out of your voice. “What’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me.”

His jaw clenched, and he didn’t respond right away, his eyes fixed on the bottle in his hand. “Just been busy.”

“Busy?” You frowned, crossing your arms. “Too busy to even say hello?”

He looked up at you then, his eyes hard. “Yeah, busy. I don’t have time for games, alright?”

“Games?” you echoed, thrown off by the accusation. “What are you talking about? I’m not playing any games, Logan.”

He let out a frustrated huff, shaking his head as he pushed past you, brushing your shoulder as he went. “Forget it.”

That was it? He was clearly upset, but he wouldn’t talk to you about it. It didn’t make sense. You stood there, staring at the spot where he’d just been, confusion and hurt swirling inside you. Logan was the last person you expected to act like this—especially toward you.

A few more days passed, and the tension between you only grew. Logan’s avoidance became more blatant, and every time you tried to approach him, he’d find a way to leave before you could say anything. You started to wonder if you’d done something to upset him, but every time you asked, he brushed you off with a noncommittal grunt or a sarcastic remark.

It was driving you crazy.

Now you were sitting alone in the common room, you and Logan somehow being the only two in the mansion with everyone else out on various missions and overnight school trips. As you attempted to watch a movie to take your mind off things, Logan’s absence gnawed at you. He was always here for movie nights, even if he’d just sit silently in the corner. The emptiness of his usual spot was glaring, a constant reminder that something had shifted between you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to confront him, to find out what the hell was going on.

When you walked into the gym, your eyes immediately found Logan, his muscular form sitting on a raised bench, sweat glistening on his skin. He didn’t acknowledge your presence, focusing on his workout with an intensity that made your stomach twist.

“Logan,” you called out, your voice firmer than you felt.

He paused, setting the dumbbells down with a heavy thud before finally looking at you. “What?”

“What is your problem?” you demanded, stepping closer, not giving him a chance to escape this time. “You’ve been avoiding me like the plague, and I want to know why.”

Logan’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat off his face. “Maybe I’m just tired of tryin’,” he muttered, his voice low.

“Trying what?” You crossed your arms, frustration boiling over. “Logan, you’re not making any sense. You’ve been acting like I did something wrong, but I don’t even know what that is!”

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite place—anger, maybe? But there was something else too, something deeper that made your heart race.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he growled, stepping closer to you, his presence overwhelming.

“Get what?” you shot back, refusing to back down even though his proximity was making it hard to think straight.

Logan huffed, his hand running through his hair in a rare display of frustration. “I’ve been tryin’ to show you, but you’re too damn blind to see it.”

“Show me what?” You were at your wit’s end, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

His eyes bore into yours, intense and unyielding. “That I want you, darlin’. I’ve wanted you for a long damn time, and I’m sick of you not seein’ it.”

You stared at him, stunned into silence. This was the last thing you expected him to say. Logan—gruff, no-nonsense Logan—wanted you? The thought was so far from anything you’d ever imagined that you couldn’t even process it.

“You…you want me?” you finally managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the frustration in his eyes palpable. “I’ve been tryin’ to show ya, but you keep thinkin’ I’m just bein’ a grumpy bastard.”

You blinked, completely floored by his confession. “Logan, I…I didn’t know. I thought…”

“Thought I was messin’ with ya?” he finished for you, his voice rough, almost bitter. “That’s why I’ve been avoidin’ ya—figured if you couldn’t see it by now, I was just wastin’ my time.”

The weight of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. You hadn’t seen it, not because you didn’t want to, but because the idea that Logan could feel that way about you seemed impossible. And now, standing here, with him staring at you like you were the only person in the world, you realised how wrong you’d been.

“Logan, I’m sorry,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. “I didn’t know. I never thought…”

“Don’t apologise,” he cut you off, his voice softer now, but still edged with frustration. “I’m just done waitin’, darlin’. I can’t keep doin’ this—dancin’ around it, hopin’ you’ll figure it out.”

You took a shaky breath, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to think. “What do you want, Logan?”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a way that made your knees weak. “You, darlin’. I’ve always wanted you.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, rough and demanding, as if he was trying to make up for all the time lost in that one kiss. The force of it stole your breath, your hands automatically reaching up to clutch his shoulders as you kissed him back just as fiercely.

Logan’s grip on you tightened, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing your lips until you parted them, letting him in. The taste of him—smoke, whiskey, and something unmistakably Logan—filled your senses, making your head spin.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breathing ragged, his pupils blown wide with desire. “Still think I’m jokin’?”

You shook your head, your heart racing, your thoughts scattered. “No,” you breathed out.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours before he started kissing his way down your jaw, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. “’Cause I’m gonna show you exactly how much I want you.”

His mouth found the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin before he bit down gently, making you gasp. Your hands fisted in his shirt, needing something to hold on to as his hands moved to your thighs, lifting you and moving to sit on the bench. Your legs desperately straddled him, pulling him closer.

Logan’s hands were everywhere—sliding under your shirt, tracing the curve of your waist, skimming up your ribs, his touch igniting a fire in you that you hadn’t realised was there. He was careful, almost reverent, despite the rough edge to his movements, as if he was holding himself back from completely losing control.

When his hands found your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the fabric of your bra, you arched into him, a whimper escaping your lips. He growled, the sound low and primal, as his mouth found yours again, his kiss fierce and demanding.

You could feel the hardness of him pressing against your core, the friction sending waves of pleasure through you, and you couldn’t help but rock your hips against him, seeking more.

Logan’s response was immediate, his hands gripping your hips as you ground against him, his mouth devouring yours as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You were lost in the sensation, in the heat and the intensity of him, and it was all you could do to hold on.

Just when you thought you might lose yourself completely, Logan pulled back, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild as he looked up at you. “Tell me to stop,” he rasped, his voice strained, as if it was taking everything in him to hold back. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

But the last thing you wanted was for him to stop. You shook your head, your voice breathless as you whispered, “Don’t stop.”

Logan let out a low, feral sound, his lips crashing against yours again as he ripped off your shirt. His patience had worn thin, and now there was no turning back. As your lips roughly moulded together, tongues battling for dominance, your hands slid under his tank-top, brushing over his abs. You pulled away, taking off his shirt, jaw dropping at the sight of his glistening body from the sweat of his workout.

“Holy shit, you should be shirtless more often…”

He didn’t respond, his hand grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into another kiss. Your hands trailed down his chest, fingers sliding down his happy trail. Climbing off him, you dropped down to your knees in front of him. He raised his hips as you pulled down his sweatpants and boxers, his dick springing out and slapping against his stomach.

You didn’t give him time to process what was happening as you immediately licked a stripe up his dick before taking the head into your mouth, tongue brushing against the tip, making him throw his head back against the bench and groan.

Your hands gently massaged his balls as your mouth focused on the head of his cock, gently sucking as his hand moved to gather your hair into a make-shift ponytail. You lowered your head, taking more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks.

Looking up through your lashes, your eyes met with his while you began to move your head up and down faster, your hands touching whatever couldn’t fit into your mouth. You continued this until your jaw was aching and his dick was twitching in your mouth.

He began to gently thrust into your mouth, making you gag as he hit the back of your throat. One of your hands slid down into your shorts, rubbing your clit before pushing a finger into your dripping pussy.

“Fuck, so good darlin’,” he grunted as you moaned around him, slipping another finger into yourself.

“If you don’t stop now, m’gonna cum, wanna feel you ‘round me.”

He pulled you off of him, revelling in your dishevelled appearance. You stood up, and pulled off your shorts and panties. You reached behind you, unclipping your bra, letting it slide off your body. His eyes trailed up and down your body admiring you. You bit your lip at the way his eyes shined with something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you never wanted him to stop looking at you like that.

You silently moved to straddle him, pulling him into a slow kiss as your bare core grinded against his cock. One of his hands wrapped around you, trailing up and down your back as you both sat there, grinding against each other. His other hand reached down and grabbed your hip.

You raised your hips as you reached for his cock, positioning at your entrance before slowly sinking down onto him. You leaned forward and he fell back against the bench and buried your face in his neck, letting out a simultaneous moan as you stretched around him. You stayed still, adjusting to his size, panting into his neck, making him harder than he thought possible.

Once you were ready, you slowly raised your hips before sinking back down onto him. His hands moved to grip your hips as you began to ride him, gently helping you. You kissed him roughly, moaning into his mouth as his hips thrust up to meet yours.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the loud moans and groans coming out of your mouths. In that moment, neither of you cared where you were— that there was a chance someone could easily walk in on you even though it was just the two of you in the mansion. All you two cared about was the feeling of him inside of you and how you wrapped so tightly around him.

He let out a rough groan as your lips met his neck, biting into it when his hips met yours. Bouncing on his dick, you clenched around him, making him let out an almost feral sound.

“Oh fuck don’t stop, wrapped so tightly ‘round me, s’like you were made for me.”

“‘M all yours, Lo.”

“Shoulda never avoided you, shoulda just manned up and kissed you, ‘stead of waiting ‘round for you to realise that I want you.”

If you weren’t so desperate for him, you would’ve laughed but all you could do was moan and nod into his neck.

“‘M gonna cum, Lo.”

“Give it to me, darlin’.”

His hand reached to roughly circle your clit, sending you over the edge. You moaned out as a feeling of ecstasy overcame you and your vision went white. Your body slumped against his but his thrusts were relentless. As they got sloppier, you could feel his dick twitch inside of you, making you moan.

“I’m so close, need to cum inside you.”

His mouth pressed against your neck, marking you like a blank canvas for everyone to see later. He pounded up into you, his hand still rubbing your clit causing you to cum for a second time. You tightened around him, making him shoot his cum deep inside you.

His thrusts slowed, fucking you through it as you both panted, trying to catch your breath. His movements came to a stop and he titled his head back, letting out a deep breath.

You raised your head, looking into his eyes and laughing,

“I can’t believe I could’ve had this so much sooner if I wasn’t so obvious.”

Mars speaks… (again) woah that got… 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

Tags… @pastelpinkflowerlife

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fanfiction #james logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #x men #smut #fanfiction #reidsworld

3K notes · View notes

noisilyscreechingsong · 11 months ago

Text

Alfred knows Danny from long ago during his secret service days. He always found the other odd, but his company was enjoyable enough to overlook. They were friends for a short while. Danny even saved his life once or twice. However, despite their trust in each other, they didn’t keep in touch. It was like Danny disappeared and he never heard from the jolly man again. That is until Danny showed up at the Wayne manor decades later looking the same as when they parted ways carrying the daughter he talked so much about.

Danny stood on the front porch with a toddler Ellie in his arms. She’s been behaving wonderfully. The new environment gave her curious self something to look at and distract her from a tantrum.

He rings the doorbell awkwardly with her in one arm and a bag of supplies resting on his shoulder.

If things were any different he wouldn’t be here, but he’s got to do what he’s got to do even if it’s the last scenario.

Footsteps can be heard on the other side before it opens to reveal a boy in sweatpants and a hoodie. It’s a little warm for the summer and Danny expects they have an expensive electric bill for this large place.

The kid, Damian Wayne he remembers, scowls. He gives Danny a once over with narrowed eyes.

“How’d you get through the gate?” Damian demands.

Danny blinks and adjusts Ellie on his hip.

“I walked of course.” Damian grows even more suspicious and Danny decides to change the subject. “I’m Danny. Danny Fenton. And this little monster is Ellie. Want to say hello, Ells?”

Ellie looks at Damian for all of three seconds before losing interest.

“No.”

Danny sighs. Yea, he was expecting that answer. It’s her favorite word at the moment.

“Why are you here?” Damian asks.

Straight to the point then.

“I’m looking for Alfred Pennyworth. Is he around? It’s urgent.”

“What is it concerning?” Damian straightens his spine to appear taller but it doesn’t change the head difference.

Danny sets Ellie down on the brick when she won’t stop squirming to be let down. She doesn’t waste a moment wandering away to investigate her surroundings. Damian raises a brow while watching her.

“I’m cashing in that favor he owns me.”

That got the boy’s attention. He studies the adult for a moment before opening the door wider for the both of them to enter.

Danny manages to wrangle Ellie into the house with Damian’s judgmental gaze following them. The bag had slid down to his elbow when he bends down to hold Ellie’s hand to steady her.

It’s as Damian is closing the front door that a man comes around the corner in a butler uniform. The same man he was looking for.

Alfred freezes after registering who was in front of him. The older of the two sighs heavily. Shoulders back and chin high, as expected he approaches this situation with a level head and posh dignity.

“Daniel,” addresses Alfred. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Danny cringes. He really should have called with a warning but there wasn’t time. He also always hated it when Alfred refused to use Danny’s preferred nickname, a sort of teasing that was consistent. If Alfred was anything, he’s stubborn enough to do what he wants and get away with it.

“Sorry, Alf. Next time for sure.” Danny sends a cheeky grin that doesn’t impress anyone. He glances over at his daughter to see her trying to touch the expensive looking vase on a side table.

“Ellie!” He dashes over to pull her away which immediately starts a struggle war and fussing. He knows if he lets this continue it will turn into a full blown tantrum.

“That’s not ours, we can’t touch it without permission.” She whines in frustration. “Do you want to ask if it’s okay to touch? Gently?”

Ellie thinks about it a second before looking up at him. Danny nods in understanding and turns her a bit to look at the two spectators.

“Toush?” She asks with an adorable chubby arm raised to point at the vase.

“Are you going to break it?” Damian asks with folded arms.

“Master Damian, I’m sure that’s not her intention.” Alfred turns with a smile back to Ellie. “That vase is fragile. Can you be very careful?”

Obviously her answer is a confident nod of the head and immediately trying to reach out again. Danny helps to lift her and hold her wrist steady.

She pets the vase like a kitten, feeling the raised edges of the design with her little hand. After a few long moments Danny pulls her away to set her on his hip like before, earning an annoyed huff in his direction for his efforts.

“Very good, Ellie. I knew you could do it.”

She hides her face in his shoulder and he takes the opportunity to send a look at Alfred. The older man understands immediately and inclines his head before turning to walk further into the house.

“It was nice meeting you,” Danny shoots Damian before following Alfred to what appears to be a parlor a few rooms away.

“I shall fetch some tea.”

Danny shakes his head as he sits.

“No time. I’m in a rush.”

Alfred eyes him up and down before gingerly sitting in the armchair across from him.

“Yes, so I have noticed.”

In other words, spill your guts for abruptly intruding like you have.

“Something…urgent has come up-“

“I assumed as much.”

“-and I know how good you are with kids-“

“Daniel, you cannot expect me to-“

“You owe me,” Danny says firmly. Alfred leans back at the reminder. He knows Danny would never hold that over his head without a good reason. “I have no one else to go to, to look after her. I normally would just take her with me, but I- it’s gotten dangerous. Too dangerous for her.”

He looks to Alfred with desperate eyes. Ellie tries to squirm out of his arms, which reflexively tighten securely around her middle. He can see the dark bags under the younger eyes.

Alfred sighs.

“How long?”

Danny sags and Ellie slips out of her father’s arms as soon as the chance presented itself. Alfred would need to keep a close eye on her in the future.

“A week, two, three tops.”

Alfred sends an unimpressed look and Danny cringes but doesn’t redact his statement.

“Anything I need to know?”

Danny looks down at the hastily packed diaper bag like it had all the answers.

“We’re kind of in the middle of potty training so I threw in some pull ups but those will go quick. She hates carrots. Won’t go to sleep without a bedtime story. Don’t give her any sugar after four or she’ll turn into a monster. Oh, and her powers are coming in so I packed a shield for at night.”

Alfred raises a single eyebrow.

“Could you be more specific?”

Danny waves it off like it was no big deal.

“Just the normal stuff. Invisibility, intangibility, and flight. It’s all very weak and sporadic right now. Keep calm until she figures it out on her own. She’s just learning.”

“So you are leaving a child in my care for an unknown amount of time, a child that can disappear, walk through walls, and fly. Anything else?”

Danny rubs the back of his neck guiltily.

“Why do you always have to make everything sound so…” He sighs heavily, glancing over at Ellie who has managed to take every blanket out of the basket in the corner and crawled in to make a nest out of the materials. He smiles fondly.

“I’ve probably forgotten something, but I know you can handle it. You can take care of her.”

Danny then stands and pulls out a piece of paper, handing it over.

“My number is at the top in case of emergencies. Her favorite stuffy is in the bag, she won’t sleep without it. Her favorite word right now is ‘no’. I wrote down anything I could think of, which you probably can’t even read my chicken scratch…”

Alfred gently takes the paper from his hand and Danny slowly makes his way to the messy corner.

“Hey, Elles,” he says softly, far softer than anything Alfred has heard from him. Usually he was a rambunctious, jovial loudmouth, but right now he was hesitant. Prolonging the farewell they both know needs to happen with how urgent this mysterious problem was.

Ellie looks up for a moment before going back to maneuvering her fort.

“I gotta go away for a while. Alfred here will be watching over you while I’m gone, okay?”

That got her attention. For a child that young, she knew something was wrong, but didn’t know what. And now her dad, her protector, was leaving.

“No.”

Danny folds his lips together, expecting the response but still not ready to go through the hard part of leaving.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl. I am, but I have to go. I’ll be back when I’m finished.”

“No!”

Danny sighs and reaches in to pull her into his arms. She fights him valiantly, but he was stronger and bigger.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

They might as well have been empty words for the lack of effect it had on the struggling toddler. Danny sways with her for a few beats until he gets an idea.

“Danielle, look.”

He makes sure she’s watching as he creates a loop of ice, infused with his ectoplasm and therefore, his signature.

“Hold out your hand,” he coax.

She does so with a sniffle and he gently moves the glowing green ghost ice around her wrist to make an indestructible, unmeltable bracelet. He shrinks it until he’s sure it won’t fall off and won’t be too tight either.

“There. Now you have a piece of me wherever you go. Even when we’re far apart.”

She pointedly doesn’t look at him.

“I love you, Ellie. I’ll be back soon.”

He kisses her forehead, breathes in her soft scent, and turns to Alfred. The older man is watching carefully and makes his arms available for a new passenger.

With a deep breath Danny hands her over, Ellie immediately starts whining and tears fall from her eyes.

“Hey, you’ll be okay. Alfred here is a mighty warrior. He’ll keep you safe. I trust him.”

He does his best to wipe away her tears but he has to physically step away when she reaches for him. Instead he looks to Alfred.

Alfred holds her securely and nods in assurance.

“Not to worry. Danielle and I will be too busy to notice your absence.”

Danny smiles at the effort but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He can’t resist petting her head one last time, her pigtails in disarray, and wiping her tears from her cheeks.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he promises, marking it with another kiss to her head before backing away again. He looks at Alfred sending his gratitude without words. Alfred accepts it with a slight incline of the head. Danny nods once and leaves before he can’t.

The door opens and the young boy from earlier stumbles back with a glare to hide his embarrassment.

“Master Damian-“

Danny holds up a hand to stop Alfred. Of course the boy would eavesdrop, what did either of them expect?

The young father leans down to get eye level with Damian, looking him straight in the eye with seriousness. Damian straightens at the attention.

“It’s very important Ellie is safe and occupied while I’m away. It would mean a lot to me if you would help Alfred do that.”

Damian folds his arms.

“What would I get out of that useless goal?”

“What would you want?”

“Daniel, Master Bruce would not-“

“A knife,” Damian interrupts. “Not just any knife though. It has to be special.”

Danny hums in thought, studying Damian for a moment, almost making the boy squirm.

“Deal.”

He holds out his hand and Damian shakes it after a second of hesitation. Danny nods to the boy, then nods to Alfred, and he’s finally out the door making a portal as he walks from the gentle breeze of outside to the chill of ectoplasm, transforming into his kingly attire as he crosses the threshold.

The GIW had a lot to answer for and he couldn’t hold his subjects back any longer. The United States had declared war against the Infinite Realms and he would be the one to answer.

#dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #alfred pennyworth #damian wayne #secret service #long time no see #babysitting #time travel #clockwork shenanigans #de aged ellie #Danny is Ellie’s dad #Alfred’s got this #dc x dp prompt #ghost king danny

3K notes · View notes

fatecantstopme · 4 months ago

Text

Destination: Motel Feelings

Pairing: Tyler Owens x plus size!reader

Summary: Two friends. One bed. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: it’s just a whole lot of smut, with a droplet of fluff. Cursing, use of pet names, self-esteem/body image issues. Oral (M & F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), pretty fluffy sex overall.

“At least this motel is cleaner than the last one,” you mumbled as you entered the main lobby.

The motel was small, as most were in bumbfuck, Oklahoma, but it would have to do for the night.

“Who’s bunking with me this round?” Boone asked.

“Dexter’s with you. Dani and Lily are sharing, and then it’s me and Tyler,” you answered.

Since the six of you traveled together regularly, you’d made it a point to rotate sleeping arrangements to make it fair. This week was your week to bunk with Tyler. You always hated when it was just you and him, not because of anything he did, but because of how awkward you felt the entire time.

It wasn’t your fault he was gorgeous and charming and funny and smart…the combination of which made you want him with an unhealthy desperation. He was your favorite person to be around, but never alone. You needed a buffer to keep you from being incredibly awkward, or gods forbid, telling him how you felt.

You were certain Tyler wouldn’t be mean about your feelings or make you feel bad, but you were equally certain you weren’t his type. You’d met a fair amount of guys that looked as good as him, and not a single one of them was ever interested in you. You weren’t ashamed of your body, but you weren’t exactly comfortable being the only overweight person in your friend group.

You'd long since accepted the curves that came with puberty, curves that had only grown as you'd gotten older. Not a single part of you was what you would deem small, other than perhaps your height. You had large boobs and the back pain to accompany them, along with hips and an ass you were convinced could stop traffic. Your stomach had long been your biggest hurdle--and your main point of self-consciousness. Suffice it to say you were soft...and Tyler was very much not.

"You don't sound excited to be sharing a room with me, darlin'," Tyler teased lightly from behind you.

You chuckled in response. "I think I'd sell my kidney to stay in a hotel room without any of you for a week."

The rest of the team laughed while Boone and Dexter stepped up to the counter to check-in. Dani went next, grabbing room keys for her and Lily. The four of them went upstairs to throw their bags down, with a promise to be back in the lobby in 10 minutes for dinner.

You and Tyler smiled at the older woman behind the counter as you gave your name to check-in. The woman frowned slightly as she looked at her computer screen.

"Is everything alright?" Tyler asked gently.

"Well, it seems there was a bit of a mix up," she began. "We actually only have one room available."

"That's fine," you reasoned. "We only need one."

The woman nodded, but her expression still looked mildly uncomfortable. "It's--uh--it's a single."

You froze, contemplating the meaning of her words.

"Is there a couch?" Tyler asked, saving you from the discomfort.

She nodded, a look of relief crossing her face. "There is!"

"Then we'll take it," Tyler said with a smile.

A few minutes later, the two of you had your keys and were on the way upstairs to your room. You unlocked the door and barked out a laugh as you took in the space.

Tyler stepped in behind you and let out a low groan. "That's the couch?"

You laughed harder. "I didn't know they made couches that small. It's comical."

Tyler sighed and tossed his bag onto the freakishly small couch. "It's only for a night, right?"

You winced slightly. "At least two...possibly three."

"Shit," he mumbled.

"Ty, I'm not making you sleep on that tiny thing. You're over 6 feet tall...I don't even think you'll fit."

You both turned your attention to the bed on the other side of the room. Somehow, the queen sized bed looked dauntingly small to you.

"I'll, uh, take the couch," you offered.

"This thing looks like it's older than we are," Tyler muttered. "I wouldn't want my worst enemy sleeping on this thing, let alone you."

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, likely a text from Boone or Lily reminding you about dinner. "We'll figure it out after dinner. I'm starving."

Tyler nodded his agreement and followed you back down to the lobby where the rest of the team was waiting.

**********

By the time dinner was over and you'd said goodnight to the rest of the team, you'd nearly forgotten the predicament awaiting you in your room. Reality smacked you in the face the moment you opened the door and stepped back into the small space, a deep sigh settling in your chest.

"Why don't you get a shower first and I'll figure out how to make this work," Tyler said gently.

You just nodded, not wanting to consider the most logical solution to this particular issue. You grabbed your bag and entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You made quick work of your shower and nighttime preparations, slipping on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of very short shorts.

You stared in the mirror for a moment, lost in a wave of self-consciousness. Every dimple in your thighs was visible, the soft flesh jiggling with your movements. You'd forgotten to throw a pair of pj pants in your bag before leaving home this time, so the shorts were all you had. You sighed, knowing it wasn't gonna get any better than it currently was, so you grabbed your bag and went back out into the room.

Tyler was lying on the floor, a singular blanket and pillow his only form of bedding.

A light laugh accompanied your words as you took in the sight before you. "What the heck are you doing?"

Tyler looked up with an uncomfortable shrug. "Sleeping on the floor. What does it look like?"

"It looks like you're insane," you said lightly. "I don't even want to know how disgusting these floors are...I would much rather sleep on the couch than let you sleep on the floor all night."

"Having sat on the couch already, I can promise you the floor is more comfortable."

You scoffed. "Impossible." You crossed the room and dropped onto the couch with an oomph. "Jesus--this thing is a rock."

Tyler laughed at your obvious discomfort. "I told you. There's no way I'm letting you sleep on that thing. At least one of us needs to get a good night's sleep."

"So why don't you sleep on the bed and I'll sleep on the floor."

Tyler glared at you. "Not happening, sweetheart. My mama raised me better than that."

You rolled your eyes. "No offense, Tyler, but I think you're a little too old to sleep on the floor these days. You're gonna wake up with a slipped disk and a hernia."

His laughter brought a smile to your face. "I'm not that old, (Y/N)."

"Well I'm definitely that old--and I'm a year younger than you."

He smirked as he pulled himself off the floor. "You're taking the bed, you muppet."

Your jaw dropped, a choked laugh escaping your throat. "Did you just call me a muppet?"

"Yes I did and I don't regret it." He grabbed his bag and rushed past you to get to the bathroom before you could find something to throw at him.

"Muppet," you murmured under your breath. "He's the muppet."

"I heard that!"

"Get in the shower, Owens!" you laughingly yelled back.

You unceremoniously dropped onto the bed, a sigh breezing past your lips. You were tired and the thought of having the entire bed to yourself was a pleasant one...until you sat up and looked at the makeshift bed on the cold, hard, unforgiving floor.

You knew there was no way you could let him sleep on the floor. While the comments about his age had been a joke, you were both in your 30s now and sleeping wrong could genuinely fuck you up for days. You absolutely couldn't make him sleep on the damn floor.

You glanced at the empty bed beside you and groaned. Sharing a bed with Tyler ranked very highly on your list of most horrifying situations. There was a high probability you would actually combust from embarrassment alone. What if you did something weird in your sleep? What if you kicked him or pushed him out of the bed? What if you accidentally tried to cuddle with him? You would die of mortification.

While you were contemplating all the ways this could go horribly wrong, Tyler came out from the bathroom clad in his boxers and a scandalously tight white t-shirt. You bit your lip, looking away from him hurriedly. You could feel the blush heating your cheeks and you prayed he wouldn't notice.

You cleared your throat quietly before gesturing to the bed beside you. You couldn't quite meet his gaze as you said, "You're not sleeping on the floor, so you might as well take half the bed."

Tyler raised his eyebrows even though he knew you weren't looking his way. "You sure, sweetheart? I don't wanna impose."

You shrugged. "We're adults, Ty. I think we can manage to share a bed for a couple nights without making it weird."

He noticed you still hadn't met his gaze, a fact he chose to ignore. Instead, he opted to use the moment to his advantage, blue-green eyes sweeping over your form, noting the exposed, soft flesh of your legs. He had twin urges to sink his teeth into your thighs and feel them wrap around his head until he couldn't breathe. He quickly shook the image out of his head before those impure thoughts could make their way below the belt line.

"We can put a pillow in the middle if you want," he offered sweetly.

"The bed is a little small for that--besides, we only have three pillows on this damn bed and I'm using two of them."

Tyler chuckled as he scooped up his pillow from the floor and placed it beside yours. He lowered himself onto the bed, feeling the mattress dip with his weight. "Why do you get two pillows and I only get one?"

"Because you like to sleep as flat as possible like some sort of psychopath."

Tyler laughed heartily, his grin widening as he took in the small smile gracing your face. "A psychopath?"

"Retaliation for calling me a muppet."

He laughed again, smacking you gently with his pillow. The action earned him a glare, followed by a slow, teasing smirk. His mind went blank as you finally made eye contact with him. Your pupils swallowed up nearly all of your irises thanks to the dim lighting and the singular lamp on his bedside table cast the prettiest glow on your skin. The only thought that crossed his mind was the word 'radiant'.

He swallowed thickly, forcing the word back down his throat before he could blurt it out. You'd never once given him an indication you felt the same way he did, and the last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable.

"Alright, weirdo. Turn off that light so we can go to sleep," you murmured, breaking the spell of the moment.

Tyler did as you asked before settling more comfortably into the bed. You laid on your side, back to him, and he felt the urge to run his fingers through your hair--yet another urge he immediately suppressed.

He rolled over so his back was to you and let out a soft sigh. He had to admit he was tired, but being in the same bed with you and not touching you was almost painful, enough so that he wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep.

"Goodnight, Tyler," you whispered softly, keeping your eyes trained on the wall, even though you desperately wanted to look at him one more time.

"Goodnight, (Y/N/N)." He paused. "Just do me one favor."

"Hmm?"

"Keep your icy ass feet away from me."

You laughed, swinging your leg back to plant your foot against his bare calf. He swore and nearly jumped at the sensation.

"They're like icicles!"

You giggled. "They're not that bad you drama queen."

He rolled over enough to glare at your back. "That's drama king to you."

You shot a matching glare over your shoulder before you both burst out laughing. You swatted his arm affectionately, trying not to marvel at the firm muscles beneath your palm. "Go to sleep."

He smiled as he faced away again. "Goodnight, icicle."

He heard your breathy laugh as you murmured, "Goodnight, drama king."

**********

The exhaustion must have kicked in at some point because you could barely remember falling asleep when you awoke in the middle of the night. It took you several moments to orient yourself, having forgotten where you were.

In those moments before lucidity settled in, you could feel a radiating heat at your back and you instinctively curled into it, pressing against something very firm.

Then you felt it--breath gently blowing against your neck, something heavy draped across your middle, and someone's very large body pressed against you from head to foot.

Tyler. His name slammed into your brain, pushing you firmly into wide-awake territory. You quickly realized it was his body wrapped around yours, his breath caressing your neck, his arm holding you tightly against him.

You laid there, utterly frozen, as you contemplated what to do. His grip on you was surprisingly firm, preventing you from simply rolling out of his grasp, and there wasn't much room on your side of the bed to escape to anyway.

Somewhere in Tyler's subconscious, he must have felt the shift in your body and the urge to ease your tension was one he couldn't ignore even in his dreaming state.

His grip on you tightened even more, pulling you back against his chest. He pressed forward into you and you shifted slightly in an attempt to distance yourself. In doing so, you wiggled your ass right against his semi-hard member, eliciting a soft groan from Tyler's lips.

With absolute horror, you felt him start to harden even more, the urge to melt into the floor growing with each moment. You didn't want him to wake up and be mortified, so you tried to move away from him without waking him.

Your movements stirred him into awareness, the current situation coming into focus as he awoke. You felt the moment Tyler woke up fully, his body going rigid against yours before rolling away from you with shocking speed.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, (Y/N)," he muttered in embarrassment. "I-I didn't mean--shit. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you murmured, trying to diffuse the situation. "You were sleeping--it happens."

He groaned and rubbed his face wearily. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

His voice was low and pained, the tone making your chest ache. "You didn't. It's alright." You reached out a hand to brush against his arm. "Hey...look at me."

His body remained tense beneath your fingers. "Ty," you urged.

He finally turned to look at you and he found himself surprised at your open expression. You didn't look angry or upset, in fact, if he didn't know better, he'd say you looked intrigued.

"No more apologizing," you ordered when he opened his mouth with a clear apology on his lips. "I didn't mind."

Your eyes widened as you realized what you'd just admitted, a bright pink blush quickly deepening your skin.

Emboldened by your words, Tyler leaned towards you slightly. "Which part? Me holding you? Or my obvious physical attraction to you?"

You exhaled sharply. "Your what?"

Tyler's eyes scanned your face and he was certain he saw a whole lot more than intrigue written there--he'd even say it was desire. "Oh come on princess. You felt my reaction..."

You blanched further. "It's-it's a physiological response--"

"To you," he added firmly. "A physiological response to you."

Your mouth opened and closed in an embarrassing representation of a fish before you finally pushed out one word, "Me?"

Tyler smirked, looking around the room. "You're the only one here, sweetheart."

You looked down at yourself before looking back at him, repeating the motion twice before you sputtered, "You-you. No--you...no way. You can't."

He smiled at your fumbled words. "I can and I do. I've never met anyone who makes me feel the way you do."

"Physically?" you gasped in disbelief.

He chuckled. "Physically and emotionally, actually."

Your draw dropped further. "What?"

Tyler stood up and moved to your side of the bed, kneeling down in front of you. "Let me make this very explicitly clear, (Y/N). Yes, I find you attractive. Yes, I want you. Yes, I think you're incredible. No, I don't just wanna fuck. Yes, I want to be with you."

You stared at him in silence for a long moment. "Am I dreaming?" you whispered.

He shook his head and gently brushed a thumb against your outer thigh. "We're both wide awake, baby."

"Are you sure?"

He chuckled. "That we're awake? Very."

"No--that you want me."

Tyler grabbed both of your hands and squeezed them between his. "I am completely certain I want you in every meaning of the word. I would, however, like to start with getting to know you...biblically."

You let out a breathy laugh. "I would ask if you're drunk, but I already know the answer."

"Sober as a priest, darlin'."

"So you're just insane then?"

He cocked his head to the side. "I've never felt more sane in my life. I've wanted you since the day you walked into my life, (Y/N). Only way I'm walking away now is if you tell me you don't feel the same."

You stared at him, a look of confused wonder on your face. Never did you think Tyler Owens would be saying this to you...but here he was, literally on his knees, telling you everything you've wanted to hear for so long.

"Of course I feel the same," you said softly. "How could I not?"

He smiled as he slowly pulled himself up, but instead of rising to his full height, he began to slowly crawl onto the bed, forcing you to lay down to accommodate him.

He stopped once you were fully trapped beneath him, lips so close you could feel his warm breath. "Stop me if this isn't what you want," he whispered.

You lifted your head to close the gap between you, lips pressing firmly against his. He groaned into the kiss, immediately deepening it.

You slid your tongue along the seam of his lips, silently begging him to let you in. He obliged, tongue meeting yours with fervent passion. He tangled his fingers into your hair with one hand, while the other slipped under your shirt to gently rub at your hips.

You were inclined to allow him to kiss you until you passed out from lack of oxygen, but he finally pulled away just enough to suck down a lungful of air.

"If I'd known kissing you felt like that, I would have done this years ago," he murmured.

You chuckled breathlessly. "I haven't been kissed like that in a long time--perhaps ever, if I'm honest."

"Then allow me to make a promise. I will kiss you like that every day for the rest of your life."

You gasped. "That's...a rather intense commitment, Ty."

"Five years, (Y/N)."

"I'm gonna die in five years?"

Tyler chuckled and shook his head. "God I hope not. I meant, I have wanted to do that for five years...so no, it's not as big of a commitment as you'd think. I'd think of it more as an honor."

You stared at him in silence for a moment. "Who taught you to talk like that?"

He grinned, but you could see a light blush dusting his cheeks even in the dark room. "I, uh--I've read a lot of those books you told me about."

"Books I've read?"

He nodded.

"I had no idea."

"Well I knew how much you liked them and I was curious...so I started reading one and I couldn't stop. They actually gave me some ideas for things I'd like to do with you."

"I'm not quite sure why that's so hot, but it is. So if you could please kiss me again, I'd appreciate it."

Tyler grinned, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You sighed into the kiss and pulled him even closer to you, desperate to feel as much of him as you could.

He felt the same way, right hand sliding farther up your side under your shirt, exposing more of your flesh as he went.

His thumb brushed the underside of your breast and he groaned into the kiss as he realized it meant you'd forgone a bra. He moved his hand to properly cup your breast, kneading the supple flesh before brushing a thumb over your peaked nipple.

You gasped softly and you reached for the hem of his shirt to tug it off. He allowed you to remove it and proceeded to reach for yours. A wave of self-consciousness hit you and you grabbed his wrists to stop him from lifting it further.

"Maybe we keep it on?" you said softly.

He looked confused. "Why?"

You didn't answer right away. You didn't want to admit to the feelings of self-doubt or acknowledge your body image issues, but you also didn't like the idea of being fully exposed to him. Especially now that you could see exactly how well-sculpted he was.

His eyes scanned your face, looking for an answer to his question. You weren't making eye contact with him, but you weren't telling him to stop, which only added to his growing confusion.

"Do you want to stop?"

"No!" you said quickly. "I just--I don't..."

The confusion on his face was almost endearing. He wanted to see you, touch you, kiss you...and he couldn't understand why you didn't want him to.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" he whispered.

You shook your head immediately. "It's not you at all, Tyler. It's me."

He frowned. "I don't understand."

You let out an exasperated sigh, realizing you really would have to be straightforward. "I don't really like the way I look without clothes on." Your voice was low, barely a whisper, but he still heard every word.

Realization hit him like an EF5 tornado. "Who made you feel that way?"

The harsh tone of his voice surprised you, so much so that you finally made eye contact with him again. His eyes were dark and there was a hint of simmering anger in them.

When you didn't answer, he asked again. "Who made you feel like you weren't beautiful?"

You exhaled slowly. "Do you want a list?"

His nostrils flared and he balled his hands into fists. "No one has the right to make negative comments on your appearance. No one, including you. I'm sorry anyone ever made you feel like you weren't a fucking prize, but that's their loss. If you don't feel comfortable showing me your body yet, then I won't push you, but I need you to know I want to see every inch of you...so I can worship every inch of you."

Your lips parted in surprise as you let his words sink in. There was no hint of deception in his voice or his gaze, and it gave you a surge of much-needed confidence.

You sat up just enough to pull your shirt up and over your head before letting your back hit the sheets. Your pulse was racing, breathing ragged, and you couldn't quite make yourself look at him.

Tyler was silent as he beheld your exposed torso, gaze sweeping appreciatively over every dip and curve, mentally marking every spot he wanted to spend extra time on.

He finally looked back up at your face, noticing instantly that your eyes were trained on the ceiling. "Baby. Look at me."

The dominance in his voice, while gentle, left no room for argument. You met his adoring gaze and the last dredges of worry left your body, taking the tension along with it.

He watched your body relax and a small smile formed on his lips. He leaned forward so he hovered over you once more and murmured, "You are absolutely exquisite."

With those four words, you melted, becoming a pliable instrument to his will. He kissed you softly before beginning his descent down your jaw, your neck, to your collarbone, and finally to your breasts.

"I think I'll stop here for a while," he mumbled against your soft skin.

You let out a breathy chuckle as you slid your fingers into his hair. He was true to his word, not a single inch of skin left untouched by either his mouth or hands.

The growing need for him was starting to become more prominent, the slick gathering between your thighs almost to an embarrassing level. As much as you were enjoying the attention he paid to your breasts, you needed to feel him elsewhere.

Before you could voice the need, Tyler continued his descent down your stomach, kissing every little mark he found. He reveled in the feeling of softness beneath his hands, wanting nothing more than to touch your body forever.

"Tyler," you whimpered, need evident in your voice.

He chuckled against your skin. "So impatient."

You squirmed slightly, desperate for some form of friction, a need he, himself, was also feeling. He hooked his fingers in the sides of your shorts and you lifted your hips to allow him to remove the last scrap of fabric from your body.

The sound that slipped past Tyler's lips could only be described as a growl. "That tiny bit of fabric was all that was between me and all of this?"

You nodded, unable to speak as he slipped a finger between your folds to collect your slick. He brought the finger to his mouth and sucked it clean, moaning softly at your taste.

"I knew you would be delicious."

He dropped to his knees off the edge of the bed, then grabbed your hips and tugged you towards him. A squeal of surprise escaped you, which brought a smirk to his lips.

"I wanted a better angle." With that, he threw your legs over his shoulders and dove into your pussy.

Your moans immediately drowned out any of the other sounds in the room, and even the ambient noise from outside. Tyler was incredibly skilled with his mouth, even more than you'd always imagined.

His tongue swirled your clit as he slipped one finger into you, gently curling it against the soft, spongey spot that made your toes curl. Your hips jacked off the bed in response, causing him to drape an arm across your abdomen to hold you in place.

"More, Tyler," you begged.

He grinned and added another finger, increasing the pace of the thrusts and his ministrations on your clit. Your hands clawed at the sheets as you neared your peak, desperate pleas to not stop mixed with your moans of pleasure.

Tyler, of course, did not stop. He wanted you to cum as much as you wanted it. He could feel how close you were, your pussy was squeezing his fingers so tightly it was becoming harder to move them. You kept trying to move your hips to grind on his face for even more friction, but he held you in place.

With a final flick of his tongue, you fell over the edge, waves of pleasure filling your senses. Tyler didn't stop until your moans turned to soft whimpers and you squirmed away from him.

He crawled back onto the bed, watching you as you came down from your high. He was certain you'd never looked more beautiful. When he said as much, you blushed deeply and averted your gaze.

"Oh come on, princess. Don't get all shy on me now."

You giggled lightly and looked at him again. He looked so damn good it was nearly offensive. You reached for his boxers with a murmured, "May I?"

Instead of answering, he stood up and removed his boxers quickly. You bit your lip at the sight of his very large member. The man gave off big dick energy, so you really shouldn't have been surprised.

You licked your lips absentmindedly as you looked at him. You pulled yourself up into a sitting position and flicked your gaze to his face. He was surprised by the hunger evident in your expression and he suddenly felt his need for you intensify.

He took a step towards you as if to crawl back on top of you, but you shook your head. "Lie down," you commanded softly.

The look in your eyes had him obeying immediately. As soon as he'd laid down, you climbed onto him, straddling his thigh. Your soft hand wrapped firmly around his cock and you began to stroke him slowly, earning soft sounds of enjoyment from him.

You smirked as you took in his expression, pleasure evident on his face. You lowered yourself, taking him into your mouth with a soft moan of your own. His hand was instantly in your hair, grip tightening as you started moving.

You swirled your tongue around his head before sucking tightly. You relaxed your throat and continued to take more of him into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. Anything your mouth couldn't take, your hand pleasured.

His moans spurred you on and guided your motions. You picked up on the subtle things that seemed to provide him more pleasure and you focused on those. Your own enjoyment was evident in the moans you made around his cock and the way you occasionally rubbed your pussy against his thigh, desperately seeking some relief.

Tyler could feel his orgasm fast approaching, but he wasn't ready to cum yet. With a strong tug on your hair, he lifted your head off his cock. You whined in annoyance, a small pout on your face when you met his gaze.

"Sorry, baby, but I'd like this to last."

Your expression softened and you shifted your body to straddle his hips. You leaned forward to kiss him deeply. He met your lips hungrily, teeth nipping at your bottom lip before his tongue delved into your mouth.

You gently brushed your pussy against his cock, eliciting needy moans from both of you.

"I don't think I can wait any longer," Tyler murmured.

"Me neither," you admitted. You sat back up, an odd expression he couldn't name on your face.

"You alright, sugar?"

You bit your lip. "Could I...could I ride you?"

A wide grin spread across Tyler's face. "'Course you can."

You weren't accustomed to being on top, but it was something you really wanted to try with him. You gripped his cock and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, gasps and whimpers leaving your lips as you took all of him.

Tyler's grip on your hips tightened, a low groan leaving his throat as he watched his cock disappear inside you. You shook slightly, so he rubbed soothing circles into your hips and whispered, "Just relax, baby. I've got you."

You nodded and took a deep breath, allowing your body time to adjust to his considerable size. You placed your hands against his chest, using them for leverage as you lifted yourself up and dropped back down onto his cock.

The sensation was incredible...and the control was utterly intoxicating. You started to move faster, spurred on by the way his fingers dug into your flesh and the sounds of pleasure escaping his parted lips.

After several minutes, your thighs began to burn and your motions slowed. Tyler noticed your energy waning, so he pulled you down flush against his chest and kissed you deeply. He thrust up into you a couple times before flipping you onto your back.

"Let me take care of you," he murmured as he began to slowly thrust into you.

His movements were slow and calculated, leaving you utterly breathless. Your nails scrapped along his shoulders and back, moans slipping past your lips with each thrust. "Tyler..." you whimpered.

He nipped at your collarbone in response to his name, the sound coming from your lips was easily the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard.

He pulled himself up onto his knees, tugging both of your legs up to rest against his chest. The new position elevated your hips at just the right angle for each thrust to press firmly against your sweet spot.

The chorus of broken moans coming from you mixed with the sounds your mingled bodies made to create the most intoxicating symphony Tyler'd ever heard.

There was not a single thought in your head other than the overwhelming pleasure you were on the receiving end of. You were lost in it--in him. Your nails dug roughly into his biceps as you clung to him with all your strength.

Gasps of his name left you, along with desperate pleas to keep going. Tyler pushed past the pain in his arms as you drew blood, his sole focus on making sure you reached your peak. He watched your face contort in pleasure, chest heaving, eyes closed, moans dripping from your open mouth.

"Look at me," he whispered.

Your eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to focus on his blue-green ones. The moment your eyes met, you fell apart with a fractured scream of his name. The muscles of your core clenched tightly around him, forcing him to a slower pace.

Tyler watched you in awe, utterly enraptured by the sheer magnitude of the moment. Your legs shook as he took them in his hands and gently lowered them back to the bed.

Your hands had fallen from his arms, but you now reached for him. "Ty."

He leaned forward, placing both his palms on the bed beside your head, caging you beneath him once again. His thrusts had slowed considerably, but you knew he needed his own release. You could see it in the tension lining his jaw and the desperation in his eyes.

You nipped his jaw affectionately, earning a low chuckle from him. "I want you to cum inside me," you murmured.

A deep growl rumbled in his chest at your words. His pace immediately picked back up, now chasing his own release. "You feel incredible, baby."

You sighed sweetly, fingers touching his tanned skin and tangling in his hair. "So do you."

His moans mixed with pants of your name, and he dug one hand into the hair at the nape of your neck, clinging to you desperately. "I can't get enough of you. So perfect for me."

You moaned softly at his words, loving the praise coming from him. You could tell he was close as his thrusts became more erratic.

You pressed kisses to his jaw and the column of his throat before whispering, "Cum for me, Tyler. Please, baby, I need it."

Tyler groaned loudly, hips stuttering as he spilled his seed deep inside you. He moaned your name against your lips, thrusts slowing to nothing. He kissed your jaw before collapsing on top of you, heavy pants leaving his mouth.

You kissed the top of his head and rubbed your fingers soothingly over his back. You could feel some of the marks you'd left on his skin, a slight embarrassment sinking into you.

"You were incredible," he murmured against your skin. "So much better than I'd imagined...and I've imagined it a lot."

You giggled lightly at his admission. "I might have imagined it once or twice myself."

He lifted his head to look at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And? Did I meet your expectations?"

"No," you said honestly, a small smile on your face. You saw his smirk fade slightly as you moved closer. "You exceeded them."

The tension in his face eased to a genuine smile. He pressed his lips against yours in a sweet kiss that still managed to make your toes curl.

Tyler slowly lifted himself off you, softening cock sliding out of you along with your mixed spends. You let out a soft whimper, which earned you a sweet smile and a loving kiss.

"I'm coming right back, princess. Just wanna clean up."

You watched him walk away to the bathroom, leaving you to wonder if you should try and get up too. After all, you needed cleaned up just as badly as he did.

He saved you from having to make that decision when he came back moments later with a warm washcloth. Your expression softened considerably when you realized he'd brought it for you.

"What's that face for?" he asked softly.

"Just appreciating how sweet you are."

He smiled. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't think I was just gonna leave you here with this mess." His tone was light, though slightly chastising.

"I've never had someone take care of me after sex," you admitted, a soft blush gracing your cheeks.

Tyler looked surprised as he slowly began to clean you up. "Clearly you've been sleeping with the wrong men."

You chuckled softly, even as you winced from the over-stimulation between your legs. "Looks like I made the right choice this time."

Tyler made sure you were completely clean and dry before responding. "I think we both did."

Your eyes brightened with emotion and you reached for him in a silent plea. He tossed the rag behind him towards the bathroom before crawling back into bed.

He grabbed you firmly, pulling you into his chest. You curled up against him, head resting against the muscle of his pectoral. You felt him brush his fingers down your arm, the movement affectionate and possessive.

You kissed his chest, a small sigh leaving your lips as you settled in. You felt the exhaustion coming to claim you and you could tell by Tyler's even breathing that it was coming for him too.

As you closed your eyes, your foolish brain began to overthink every moment of the night. You wondered if he would regret his choices in the light of day, or if he would want to actually have a real relationship with you.

Tyler felt the tension in your body and his grip on you tightened. "Turn your brain off, princess."

You inhaled sharply before letting out a soft chuckle. "How'd you know?"

"I know you. I can practically hear your brain overthinking," he teased. "Whatever your anxiety says is wrong. I'm in this for the long haul, okay?"

You exhaled heavily as if releasing all those negative thoughts. "I love you, Tyler," you whispered so softly he had to strain to hear.

His heart skipped a beat and a slow smile spread across his face. He nuzzled into your hair, his grip on your soft body tightening. "I love you too, princess."

The soft words of affection were the last you shared before falling asleep in each other's arms.

**********

The morning light shining in through the windows woke you, a groan of annoyance leaving you as you tried to block out the light.

Tyler's responding grumble sent shivers through your body, making you curl in closer to him. You felt his lips graze your forehead, as he said in a voice heavy with sleep, "Mornin', darlin'."

"Don't wanna," you groused.

Tyler chuckled lightly. "I know baby, but we gotta."

"Five more minutes."

He kissed your forehead again before untangling himself from you. "I'll give you ten. I'm gonna jump in the shower."

You whimpered as his warmth left you, but you quickly rolled over into the spot he'd just vacated. You sighed softly as you curled up, the residual heat from his body warming you.

He chuckled again and thought to himself that he could get used to this--waking up beside you. You looked even more beautiful in the morning light and he found himself excited to tell everyone he came across that you were his. He kissed you one last time before going to shower.

You heard the shower turn on and you debated the merits of joining him. You didn't want to get out of the warm bed, but you also knew you had to. A nice hot shower with the man of your dreams did sound rather enticing.

You groaned as you pulled yourself out of bed on slightly unstable legs. You slowly made your way to the bathroom, slipping in quietly. You could see Tyler's outline behind the glass, his back to you as he reached for his body wash.

You crossed the short distance, opening the shower door and stepping inside. "Mind if I join you?"

Tyler turned to you with a grin. "I'd love it, actually."

You reached a hand out for the body wash and washcloth he held. "Let me."

He smiled and handed them to you, but when you stepped closer, you saw the marks on his biceps--crescent moon shaped scabs. "Oh my god," you gasped. "Did I do that?"

Tyler's eyes followed your line of sight. "It's not a big deal, princess. They're badges of honor, as all marks from you are."

You bit your lip, clearly unconvinced.

"Baby." His voice was stern enough you immediately turned your attention to his face. "I'm okay. I promise."

You relaxed, the clear calm in his expression easing your worry. "Okay."

He grabbed your hips and tugged you towards him, a little smile on his face. "Besides, you've got a nice bite mark on that pretty collarbone of yours...and some finger shaped bruises on these sexy hips."

You looked down to where his fingers grazed your skin and realized he was right. A light blush crept up to your cheeks. "I have to admit...I quite like the idea of you marking me."

Tyler grinned wolfishly. "Now you know how I feel."

You giggled softly, allowing him to press his body more firmly against you, lips seeking yours for a gentle kiss.

When he attempted to deepen the kiss, you gently pushed him back. "We need to actually bathe, remember? The team's expecting us for breakfast soon."

He groaned. "They can wait."

"Tyler!" you yelped when he pulled you back in, pressing a warm kiss to your lips.

You could feel his cock begin to harden against your abdomen, his hands roaming your body like he wanted to memorize it. You sighed softly as he gently messaged your skin, your need for him growing with each passing moment.

"Come on, princess. Let me make you feel good," he begged against your ear, fingers dangerously close to your core.

"Please," you whimpered.

Tyler grinned, nipping at your earlobe, then your pulse point, focusing there as his fingers dipped into your dripping pussy. A soft moan of pleasure left your lips, head tilting back to lean against the cool tiles.

"I'm thinking we might just skip breakfast all together," Tyler murmured.

You laughed breathily, grabbing his face to plant another kiss to his swollen lips. "I think I'm okay with that."

Tyler spent the next 45 minutes making you moan his name as he gave you overwhelming pleasure. He also used up all the hot water in the entire motel, which you discovered when the two of you finally made it out of your room to meet the rest of the team.

"Dude, I had to take a freezing cold shower," Boone was grumbling as you and Tyler walked downstairs.

"Me too!" Dani chimed in. "Someone must have used all the hot water."

A sheepish smile graced your face as you overheard their conversation. Tyler let out a quiet chuckle, hand squeezing yours gently.

Lily made eye contact with you, noting your expression, your's and Tyler's wet hair, and the hold he still had on your hand. A knowing grin spread across her face. "I think I know exactly who used all the hot water."

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x reader smut #tyler owens x plus size reader #tyler owens x plus size reader smut #plus size!reader #twisters smut #tyler owens smut

704 notes · View notes

wolvietxt · 29 days ago

Text

picking up the pieces

pairing : frank castle x fem!reader warnings : hurt/comfort, crying, reverse comfort (kinda), not proofread, neighbour!frank, established relationship, petnames summary : frank’s self-deprecating comments finally get to you wc : 2.2k a/n : guys i’m #alive and #thriving don’t worry stop asking me if i’ve died thank you though🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

you weren’t supposed to fall for him.

not when he barely said a word for the first three months you lived next to him. not when you figured out pretty quick that he came home with bruises that didn’t match the kind of work he’d told you he did. not when you’d catch him sitting on the front stoop, covered in sawdust or blood or both, breathing like the air hurt.

but somehow it just… happened.

he came over once because you left a note on his door. hey - package came to mine by mistake. he looked confused when he knocked, like he didn’t think you’d actually write something so simple. you watched him glance at the box, then back at you, and you could tell from the way he cleared his throat that he didn’t know how to say thanks.

after that, he started showing up more.

bringing your mail. checking on the leaky faucet you mentioned offhandedly. standing a little closer each time, like he didn’t want to leave.

then one night, you knocked on his door.

you were crying, and you didn’t say why. just said can i come in? and he nodded, stepping aside without asking anything. he held you all night and didn’t ask a single question. but the next morning, he made coffee and you found out he took his black, no sugar. you told him that was insane and he just said, “you’re insane,” with the ghost of a smile. and from that point on, it was… different.

you kissed him two weeks later. he kissed you like he’d been waiting years.

it’d been eight months since that first night. eight months of quiet dinners, long showers, fingers laced tight under the covers, and frank’s body curled protectively around yours like he’s trying to shield you from the world.

right now, you’re curled up in his lap. it’s raining outside, soft and steady, and frank’s got one hand on your thigh, his thumb dragging slow lines across your skin. the tv’s playing something neither of you are really watching.

he smells like soap. like flannel and heat and something that always makes your stomach flip.

“you know,” you murmur, “you could stand to take a compliment once in a while.”

his thumb stills. “i take ‘em.”

“you deflect them.”

“same thing.”

you glance up at him, turning to rest your cheek against his chest. “i said you were a good man earlier and you said ‘debatable.’ what even is that?”

frank snorts softly. “it’s honesty.”

you make a face, nudge his ribs with your elbow. “you saved that guy last week. the one in the alley? you didn't even know him.”

“guy was gettin’ his ass handed to him by two meth-heads. it ain't that deep.”

you push yourself up a little, looking at him. “yeah, well you didn’t have to get involved. but you always do. because that’s just who you are.”

he looks at you then. just for a beat. his face unreadable.

“…maybe i just like pickin’ fights,” he says finally. there’s a rough edge to his voice, but it’s not angry. more like resigned.

you laugh softly. “okay, tough guy. sure.”

he grunts. “’s the truth.”

you lean in, brushing a kiss to his jaw, then nuzzle into the space under his arm again. “you’re good, frank. whether you believe it or not.”

he mutters, almost to himself, “i’m just a mess, sweetheart. you’re gonna get tired of picking up the pieces.”

you freeze.

it’s not that what he said is cruel. it’s not even new - he’s done this before, poked at himself like he’s just some walking mess. but tonight, it lands different. heavier. sharper.

you don’t answer. just stay still, curled against him, eyes open and fixed on nothing.

frank doesn’t notice at first. his hand moves back to your thigh, slow and steady, but something about your silence must click. eventually, he tilts his head down, squinting at you in the dim light.

“…hey.”

you blink.

“what?” your voice is too soft, too tight.

“you okay?”

“yeah.” you try to smile, to brush it off. but it’s barely there, and your eyes won’t meet his.

frank shifts a little to get a better look at you. the arm around your back pulls you closer, like he’s anchoring you to him. “what’s goin’ on in that head?”

you shake your head. “nothing. just… tired, i guess.”

he studies you for a second, then lifts a hand and brushes your hair gently behind your ear. “you don’t look tired.”

you glance at him for half a second before looking away again. it’s too much. he’s too much.

because he’s here. breathing and warm and solid beside you. and somehow, even after everything, he still doesn’t understand what it means when you look at him and say you’re good.

you press your face into his shoulder like you can hide there.

but the tears are already coming.

you try to turn your face further away, but you’re curled toward him, wrapped up in him - there’s nowhere to go. your hand comes up to your cheek instinctively, wiping the first tear before he can see, but you know he does.

you feel his whole body shift slightly.

“baby,” he says, low. confused.

you shake your head again, voice trembling. “it’s nothing.”

he leans forward just a bit, trying to see your face. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing, i swear - i just…” your throat closes up. you press your lips together and try to breathe through your nose, but it doesn’t work. your shoulders shake. “god, i don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

his hand cups your jaw suddenly, tilting your face gently toward him.

“hey,” he says again, firmer. “sweetheart. look at me.”

you don’t want to. your eyes are glassy, lashes wet, cheeks red. you feel stupid. overly sensitive. like you’ve just ruined the softest moment with your own mess.

but he’s holding your face like you’re glass. like you’re made of something precious.

you blink up at him and your voice breaks.

“i just - i wish you could see yourself the way i do.”

frank’s lips part slightly. he doesn’t speak. his thumb brushes under your eye, catching the tear that slips down.

you exhale shakily, a little embarrassed now that it’s all out in the open.

“you say stuff like that,” you whisper, “like you’re some kind of monster. like you’re not good. and it just - it kills me. because you’re… you’re everything to me. you know that?”

his brows furrow. he looks like he doesn’t know what to say.

“…i don’t - ”

“i know you’ve been through hell. i know you think all that stuff ruined you. but it didn’t. not to me.” you swallow hard. “you love me like no one ever has. you take care of me. you make me feel safe. like i can breathe.”

your voice cracks again and frank just moves, pulling you into his lap before you can say another word.

he wraps both arms around you and holds you tight against his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head like you might fall apart if he lets go.

“shh, baby,” he murmurs into your hair. “c’mere. i got you.”

you bury your face into his neck and let yourself cry, finally giving in. it’s not loud. just quiet, broken little gasps against his skin as your fingers clutch the back of his shirt.

he doesn’t rush you. doesn’t say anything else for a long time.

just rocks you slightly, thumb tracing slow circles into your spine.

when your breathing finally evens out, he shifts just enough to look down at you. you don’t pull back. you stay pressed to him, arms tight around his waist.

“…you sure you ain’t got me mixed up with somebody else?” he says quietly.

you lift your head, watery eyes searching his face. “frank,” you whine.

he gives a soft sigh, like he already knows what you’re about to say but needed to hear it anyway.

“you’re mine,” you whisper. “you’re so good to me. you don’t have to be perfect, you just have to stay.”

he cups your face again and kisses your forehead. not rushed. not distracting. just gentle, grounding. and then another kiss to your temple. then your cheek. then your mouth - slow and soft and deep.

when he finally pulls back, he’s looking at you like maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to believe it.

“you ain’t goin’ anywhere either,” he says. “you hear me?”

you nod. your hand slides up to rest on the back of his neck. “i’m right here.”

“yeah you are.”

he presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes.

and for a long time, the only sound in the room is the rain outside and the soft hum of his breath against your skin.

the rain’s stopped by morning. the quiet hum of the house is almost peaceful, except for the soft clink of dishes in the kitchen and the distant chirp of birds outside the window. you’re curled up in the same spot you were last night, still wrapped in the warmth of frank’s body. the bed’s slightly colder now where his body had been, but you feel tethered to him in a way that’s grounding, safe.

he’s already up when you open your eyes, the soft scrape of the kitchen chair against the floor letting you know he's busy. you don’t rush to get up, letting yourself linger in the comfort of the bed, still feeling the traces of his arms around you. the scent of coffee wafts into the room, pulling you from your hazy morning thoughts.

frank appears in the doorway a few moments later, coffee in hand. his hair’s a little tousled, and he’s wearing that worn, grey t-shirt of his you love. the sight of him makes your heart stutter in a way you still haven’t gotten used to.

he doesn’t say anything at first, just stands there, his gaze soft and steady as it meets yours. there’s a quiet understanding between you, something built from the words left unsaid last night, from the vulnerability you shared. there’s a gentleness to his presence now, like he’s giving you space to breathe without making you feel like you have to speak.

after a moment, he walks over and sets the coffee down on the nightstand, then sits down next to you, the bed creaking under his weight.

you shift slightly, leaning into him, your head resting on his shoulder. it’s a small gesture, but it feels like everything, like the world is aligning in these quiet moments. there’s a peace here, one that’s fragile but steady.

he picks up his mug, taking a slow sip before setting it back down. “ain’t used to somebody cryin’ over me and stickin’ around,” he mutters, voice low. the words aren’t heavy, but they’re raw - like he’s still figuring out what it means for someone to care that much.

you don’t answer right away, just let yourself settle deeper into his side, the warmth of his body grounding you, making everything feel a little less sharp. you close your eyes for a moment, feeling the beat of his heart against your cheek, the weight of his arm around your shoulders.

finally, you speak, your voice soft but steady. “you don’t have to get used to it. i’m not going anywhere.”

his hand brushes against your hair, gentle and comforting, before he lets it rest on your shoulder, his thumb moving in slow, rhythmic circles. “yeah?” he asks, his voice almost tentative, like he’s still unsure if this is real.

“yeah,” you whisper, barely more than a breath. “i’m here. always.”

for a long moment, neither of you speaks. you don’t need to. the quiet fills the space between you, wrapping around you both like a blanket. it’s comfortable, the kind of silence that doesn’t feel heavy, but full of understanding. full of trust.

you finally pull back just enough to look at him, meeting his gaze. there’s a softness in his eyes now, a flicker of something you haven’t seen before - something like hope, quiet but steady.

he looks at you for a beat, like he’s trying to figure out if he can believe it. then he sighs, almost to himself, and leans down to kiss the top of your head, slow and tender.

the rain’s long gone, and outside, the sky’s starting to clear, the sun creeping in. but in here, in this quiet moment with him, everything feels like it’s finally falling into place.

you feel his breath against your skin as he holds you, his arms strong but careful, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he lets go. but you don’t need to be held that tight, not anymore. you’re grounded now, by him, by this quiet, simple love.

the morning moves slowly, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself breathe, really breathe, without the weight of everything else hanging over you. with frank, it’s different.

🛍️FRANK CASTLE : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc, @erospecies, @seasonofthenerd, @the-dixon-effect

@sreidmia, @10ava01, @divierses, @408destiiny, @tinyminxi

@tcddszn

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

566 notes · View notes

izadi234 · 2 months ago

Text

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English.

Yan! Batfamily x gn!

Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 (You're here)

Chapter 7

You were peacefully resting in your bed, dreaming about your celebrity crush when your obnoxious alarm clock rang. You groaned at the sound and normally you would turn it off but, today was an important day, today you were going to apply for your mentor. Without further ado, you got out of your bed, excited and somewhat nervous. It wasn't an exam but, you had to make a kind of resume and depending on that you were going to be assigned a journalism professional or as you would call it a mentor who would guide you in a more professional way. You would be fine with any professional, but you would like to have a mentor who had an excellent professional career and experience.Without thinking you got out of bed so you could start getting ready to go to college. You quickly had some breakfast and left your house like a flash, however, Mr. Johnson, the older man who rented you the apartment where you lived

.“Good morning, (Name)!” The older man who was sweeping the entrance of the building greeted you.

“Good morning, Mr. Johnson!” You greeted him with the same energy

“I see you are very happy today and with a lot of energy” he smiled at you

“That's right! It's a very important day today” you explained

“Oh really? Then I won't stop you anymore” the older man said softly

“Thank you! Have a nice day!” You said to walk again but out of nowhere you remembered something and turned around.

“Wait, Mr. Johnson!” You called him again and he turned to look at you

“Yes, (Name)?” He asked you

“I'll pay the rent today in the afternoon, it's just that in my rush I forgot the money in my apartment” you said a little embarrassed

“Oh, of course! Don't worry about that, kiddo!” said the older man with a smile

"Thank you very much! See you later, Mr. Johnson!" you said goodbye and then ran back to the university

Fifteen minutes later you arrived at the university faculty where your friends were already waiting for you to enter the classroom and finally be able to fill out those damn forms.

When you had your form in front of you, your mind went blank. What should you start with? Maybe with your grades! Or not, better with your practical performance! You were undecided and that was making you nervous since you only had an hour and a half to answer it.

No... You couldn't have an anxiety attack at that moment... Breathe...

Take a deep breath and close your eyes for a few moments.

You are a good student. A good human being

You can do this

Good. You knew how to start.

That was the fastest hour and a half of your life but you managed to make a decent resume in your opinion. You left the classroom with your friends, satisfied with your writing. With a calm heart you attended your other classes.

The day went by quickly in your opinion and soon you were on your way to your apartment. On the ground floor, there was Mr. Johnson again but now he was sweeping the entrance of his apartment. With a smile on your face you walked towards him.

"Hello Mr. Johnson! I'll give you the rent money right now" you said and he seemed to pale a little when he saw you

"Y-you don't have to worry about that rent thing, (Mr. / Miss) (Name)" he said stuttering a little at first but with a nervous smile on his lips

"What? What do you mean? And you know you don't have to call me that right?" your smile faded a little when you heard the old man calling you

"I know, (Mr. / Miss) (Name)" he said still nervous "But I didn't know that..."

"You didn't know that...?" you asked, wanting to know what he meant

"I didn't know you were Bruce Wayne's kid..."

What the fuck?

"No, Mr. Johnson, he... he's not my father" you said a little confused

"No? He came to pay your rent and..." you interrupted

"He did what?" you said angrily

"Yes, and he also bought this building. He gave me a large sum of money and he's going to let me stay here with my family. He's a good man, your father" the older man smiled gratefully at you

No... He wasn't a good man. He and none of his other children were good to you.

What do they want from you now? Now that you were happy?

"No... I-I... I have to go..." you ran towards the elevators to go to your apartment

There weren't any cars that screamed Bruce Wayne outside the apartment complex and much less fit in the small parking lot. So that meant he was gone, right?

When you got to your apartment, you were going to open the door when you noticed something on the knob. It was a little scratched and turned more easily than in the morning.

Oh no...

Anyway you opened the door with your keys and even though everything was dark you could feel the presence of someone there.

"Okay, what the hell do you want?" you said as you turned on the lights so you could see Bruce better sitting on your couch

He was wearing a suit and had his hair combed, most likely he just left Wayne Enterprises.

"You have a nice apartment although... It's a little small" Bruce commented "I could give you a bigger one"

"Answer the question Wayne" you said with anger evident in your tone of voice

Bruce sighed and couldn't deny that hearing you call him by his last name as his rivals normally called him broke his heart a little more. He stood up and walked towards you to stop in front of you.

"I came to see how you were" Bruce said sincerely

You laughed at his words.

"See me? Me? Please! Don't make me laugh" you said with a smile but Bruce could see you were angry

"And you didn't have to pay my rent. I don't want to owe you more than I owe you"

"Owe me? (Name), you don't owe me anything" he was going to take your shoulder but you moved away from him

“I don’t want to have any relationship with you” you said while looking at him coldly

“As soon as I can I will pay you. Including my rent now” you sighed desperately

“You are my firstborn, my blood, (Name), I will always worry about you. We all worry about you” he said while trying to get closer to you but you just moved

I AM NOT YOUR CHILD!

It was what you wanted to yell at him but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you frustrated with just his presence so you just sighed. You were better than him than all of them.

“How did you find out that I lived here?” You asked him, a little calmer

“I am the best detective in the world” he pointed out

“And yet it took you several months to realize that I no longer lived in the mansion” you attacked back, but before he could answer, you spoke again

“Look, I am going to say this to your face. You aren’t welcome in my home, I don't want your charity, I don't want anything from you so please go away” you asked him in a firm voice

A voice that seemed very familiar to him

“Okay” he nodded after a few moments of silence “I’ll leave but I won’t give up”

After that promise he left your apartment making you let out a shaky sigh

How the hell did he know where you lived? That was your first thought, then you remembered Alfred and Duke but soon you dismissed those thoughts when you remembered that neither of them knew where you lived.

The next few days were quiet, Bruce hadn't shown up at your apartment, much less his children. Everything had been very quiet and that put you on alert because you knew very well that Bruce always kept his promises.

You were in class, focused on the professor when suddenly the director of your course named Mr. Wilson, knocked on the door of your classroom.

"Sorry to bother you professor" apologized Mr. Wilson "But I need Mx. (Last name)"

"Sure, Mx. (Last name), please" the professor pointed to you so you could go to the director

Intimidated, you got up from your place and walked towards Mr. Wilson. Once both of them walked out the door you finally spoke.

"Did something happen, Mr. Wilson?" you asked him

"The rector wants to talk to you" the man answered

That took you by surprise. Did something happen? Why did the rector of the university call you?

The rest of the walk, both remained silent until they reached the principal's office.

"The principal is already waiting for you" your director said without further ado and left you in front of the door

Your hands were shaking and you could feel your heart racing. What had you done wrong? That was the question that was going through your head and without thinking you knocked on the door.

"Come in" could be heard from inside and without further ado you went in

When he saw you, the principal smiled at you and motioned for you to sit in a chair in front of his desk

"Did something happen, principal?" You asked politely as you sat down on the chair

"No, nothing bad happened, Mx. (Last Name)" he assured you "I just wanted to tell you something"

"Sure" you nodded and paid attention to what he was going to say next

"Well, you see Mx. (Last Name), I didn't know your father was Bruce Wayne" he started to say but you interrupted him

What..? Bruce had come...? That left you speechless but you spoke anyway

"Y-yes... H-he's my biological father but what does that have to do with this"

"Yes, Mr. Wayne came and told me that from now on he's going to be paying for your tuition so your scholarship has been completely withdrawn"

You paled at his words.

Did they take away your scholarship?

Your scholarship that you had earned with so much effort?

"And he also made a nice donation to the university" the rector noticed your bad state

"But you don't have to worry, Mx. (Last name)! Or should I call you Mx. Wayne?" Your father will cover all your expenses"

"Please don't call me Wayne" you asked him

"Oh..." he seemed surprised but he nodded "Sure, as you wish"

"T-that would be all?" you asked with a broken voice

"Yes... sure" the principal nodded a little confused with your reaction

Without further ado you got up and ran out of the building.

Why did he even have to get involved in your studies?

You didn't want to go back to class anymore and you were going to ask one of your friends to pick up your things, for now, you had to relax. You ran your hands through your hair pulling it a little, while you sat under a tree. You put your head in your hands, trying to control your breathing.

(Name)?" a voice near you spoke and you recognized that voice perfectly

You got up and saw Tim kneeled in front of you while he looked at you with concern.

"Tim..." you said as more silent tears fell down your face. cheeks "W-what are you doing here..?"

"I came to see a friend but... Did something happen...?" he asked softly

"No, nothing" you said as you stood up and turned around while wiping your tears

"Hey! Wait" Tim grabbed your wrist but you quickly moved it away from him

"Could you leave me alone, Drake?" you said irritated

"Something happened to you" the young man confirmed

"And how do you know that something happened to me?" you asked him while crossing your arms

"You were crying and you're angry" he pointed out "Besides, you're not like this. You're normally a nice person"

"And what do you know about me, Drake?" you asked coldly "We've lived in the same place for several years but no more and don't pretend that you don't know why I'm like this. You're Bruce's right hand man, he tells you everything and the rest of his lackeys but mostly to you. You don't know even the half of who I am. So now leave me alone"

You turned around and walked away from him towards another direction on campus, leaving Tim surprised by your words.

"You heard them, didn't you?" Tim spoke into the earpiece he was wearing

Tim couldn't deny that your words didn't affect him but you were right, he didn't know you and he never bothered to do so and that makes him feel guilty...

What would have happened if he had given you a chance like Duke did? Would you be just as close?

Yes, Dick was always with him when he arrived at Wayne Manor but normally he was in Bludheaven and he couldn't deny that there were times when he felt alone until he met his friends from the Young Justice League...

If he felt alone then you must have felt more alone... Only for 15 years...

He would have shared his loneliness with you and maybe today he would be in Duke's place and instead of seeing him with that cold look, you would look at him with love and affection... Like an older sibling looks at his younger brother. And yes, he knows he has more brothers but they didn't look at him in a tender way, but as an equal, as someone else, but he wants to feel that soft love that he sees in Conner and Jon and that he knew now you could give him.

"That's right. They didn't seem too happy that Bruce started paying for their tuition" Dick spoke

"To be fair, I would have reacted the same way" Jason said now who was eating what sounded like some chips

"Jason, you react like that to anyone" Tim said as he started walking

"I don't think you should have gone" Duke said who sounded nervous

"It was good to try" Tim said

"But now they seem more distant than before thanks to father and Drake" Damian said an angry

"Come back Tim and we'll talk more here" Bruce ordered

"Yes sir”

"Alfred, I think this is going to get out of hand" Duke said, as he walked around the kitchen

"I know (Name), they are very stubborn" he said panicked

"And I know them too, Master Duke" Alfred said while washing dishes "I know that what they have always wanted is the attention of the family and now they have it"

"And what happens if they find out that we are part of this? They will end up hating us! I-I couldn't stand it" said the young man scared

"Maybe I should send them a message to tell them that we didn't know about this?" he suggested hastily

"Message?" someone asked from the kitchen door Both Alfred and Duke turned to see who it was and opened their eyes wide when they saw Cass.

"Miss Cassandra" Alfred greeted but she only looked at Duke with an intense gaze

"Message?" the girl repeated again

"Y-yes..." said Duke in a small voice

"You have… (Name)'s number?" asked Cass

"Y-yes..." nodded Duke

"Miss Cassandra" the butler spoke again as he stood in front of Duke

"Yes, both Master Duke and I have (Name)'s new number”

"So both you and Duke have kept it from us that you have my child's number?" Bruce asked in a stern voice.

Once Cass found out about this, she quickly called a meeting when Tim returned. They were all in the Batcave with Bruce standing in the middle in front of Alfred and Duke, the buttler being calmer and the boy who was much more nervous.

"That is right, Master Bruce," Alfred nodded.

"Why did you hide this from us, Alfred?" Bruce asked, a little hurt, making Alfred's heart sink.

"First of all, it is worth clarifying that it was my idea, not Master Duke's, so do not get mad at him," Alfred began. "But I knew that if we told them we had their cell phone number, all of you would try to call them nonstop. I do not want to sound rude, but we know (Name) better than anyone, and they are just as cunning as all of you. If you start forcing this thin thread you still have with them, you will only make them break up, and then we would be in serious trouble. You neglected them for years; this new attention from all of you is uncomfortable and overwhelming. You can not force this if you want them to come home again."

Everyone fell silent at Alfred's words, for he was right. They can't expect you to accept them back so quickly, but eventually you would...

No?

"Fine, Alfred, Duke," Bruce nodded. "Tell us what we should do."

Alfred's heart began to beat faster, though no one could notice. Finally, his plan was coming together now that the whole family was on the same page. Some more than others, but soon everyone would see you as he did.

Hello!

How are you all doing? FINALLY I FINISHED THIS CHAPTER! I hope you liked this chapter and If you did any kind of interaction would be appreciated as I would like to ready your opinions or ideas for this story! Anyway, I also wanted to ask you, would you like to see another character interact with (Names) from the DC universe and outside the batfamily? I would love to know your opinions!

Anyway, I hoped you like this chapter and I also hope to ready your opinions!

See you in the next one and I love you all!

-Izadi <3

TAG LIST

@eyeless-kun @profounddestinyrebel @holyfishbailiffpeanut @toast-on-dandelioms @dhanyasri @kiarst @phoenixgurl030 @wpdarlingpan @glitterisname @sackofsadstuff @riddle-me-im-sirius @sirenetheblogger @bat1212 @bluelock4life @revysplacexxx @skz-goose @mistfire1999 @vanessa-boo @tatsuri-zomushiki @kore-of-the-underworld @milliu @lee-bits @ch1@ch1cky-093 @leiiasurez @bluemidnightmelodies @lilyalone @plsfckmedxddy @lovebug-apple @jisnothere @akanegotlost @stormz369 @sugarpiehoe @mddbsf @shhhhhhhhhhtellnobody @i-adorehannah @darktrashpoetry @fantasyhopperhea @d3sperate-enuf @expctron @horror-lover-69 @caffeinatedhearts12 @niggrroo @v3llev3t3 @cynniee @imhere2dosomething @verypersonadazzel @asillysimp @type-ink @wisefuncherryblossom @haruskrd @angelicbear @zoeyburton @twismare @bad4amficideas @casspen-starlight @gwyneveire @ferchu0406 @erinhan08 @yoopsity @aki-anikk @24-7aroundtheclockanxious @ferntv @hunter-hears-all @gwyneveire @yuyuzi-ling @shirp-collector-of-fixations @welpthisisboring @jellyedkazoo @mellowcloudland @rainwaterxx @lunaetiicsaystuff @ryuushou @butratherbutrather @tiredhealer5 @nemesis-writer @jjsmeowthie @a4g3lstarfire @chibikochannumberone @hayley1234 @thestarry-nightfox @kittzu @sillyheartmoonnyx @trashlanterfish360 @c4xcocoa @tenderboar @levi-09 @cluelessteam @burningkittenprince @lexi2005 @uu-uuu @arwenyukiamoto @senhoritaapple @sujusfs14499 @oliviaewl @unearthlykara @lupher @bunniotomia

778 notes · View notes

kwilquib · 4 months ago

Text

Pojangmacha

(if your unfamiliar with the word, its the red bar tent you often see on streets of South Korea).

Minnie X Male Reader (Yunjae) ft. Park Jiwon (Fromis_9)

Word Count: 18k+

Notes:

This is my first Fic, any feedback is appreciated :)

If you're expecting Jiwon smut, I'm sorry there's none, I just really need a reason for Minnie's insecurity

just for additional context, the second pojangmacha scene happened around during G-idle's haitus.

I used the name Yunjae because i didn't like the "y/n" format actual name feels more immersive. I picke the name Yunjae randomly though

You swirled your soju glass in silence, staring at the swirling liquid like it held answers to questions you couldn’t ask.

“Yunjae,” Jiwon’s voice broke through your thoughts, soft but pointed. “You’re killing yourself like this.”

You laqughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Am I? Feels more like I’m just surviving.”

“Same thing,” she shot back, leaning closer. “You’re stuck, Yunjae. You’ve been stuck for years. It’s like you’re waiting for something to change when you’re the one who won’t move.”

Her words cut close to the bone. You wanted to argue, to deflect, but what was the point? She was right, and you both knew it.

“It’s not that simple,” you muttered, your eyes dropping to the faint gleam of your wedding ring.

Jiwon’s gaze followed yours, and her lips tightened into a line. She never said it outright, but the ring was always the elephant in the room.

“Why do you stay?” she asked quietly, her tone softer now. “If it’s really this hard—if she doesn’t even care anymore—then why?”

You looked up sharply. “You don’t know that,” you said, more defensively than you intended.

Her brows arched, her disbelief evident. “Oh, really? When was the last time you two actually talked? And I don’t mean the polite, ‘pass the salt’ kind of talk. I mean really talked.”

You didn’t answer, because you couldn’t.

Jiwon leaned back with a sigh, her frustration bleeding through. “Yunjae, you’re wasting your life waiting for something that’s never going to happen. You’re loyal to a fault, I get that, but maybe it’s time to let go.

"Four years," you muttered, swirling the last remnants of soju in your glass. "Four years since we said, 'I do.' And what do I have to show for it?" Your laugh came bitter, tinged with self-loathing. "We don’t even talk anymore."

Jiwon's expression softened. She reached across the table, her hand resting lightly on yours. "You've said that before, Yunjae. Let's call it a night."

"I just don't get it..." you continued, your voice tinged with confusion, ignoring Jiwon's request for now. "We had our reasons, sure—convenience, mutual benefits. But maybe I expected more. At the very least, I thought we could remain friends, not this distant... this nothingness."

You sighed, frustration building inside you like a tidal wave. You grabbed the Soju bottle and poured its contents into your glass, emptying it in one swift motion. The liquid burned as it slid down your throat, the sensation both comforting and familiar.

Jiwon’s eyes flickered with something unspoken, her silence speaking volumes. She hesitated, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed she might voice the truth lingering between you. But instead, she looked away. "I don’t know either," she said softly. "If it were me…" Her voice trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

You furrowed your brow and locked your gaze on hers, the unspoken thoughts echoing in the empty space between you. You already knew what she meant—you were childhood friends who had lost contact but reconnected years later. In the time that had passed, her intentions had changed, and you sensed that she was well aware of your realization. The tension grew palpable as the truth hung there, waiting for a moment of honesty to break the silence.

The heavy silence pressed in on you, demanding acknowledgment. You knew you had to confront the elephant in the room, to end it once and for all, lest it lingered in doubt. "Jiwo-"

But Jiwon interjected before you could finish, her voice steady as she changed the subject, "Anyway, it's pretty late. We've been here since 7 PM, and it's almost midnight now."

You nodded, your heart heavy with the unsaid words between you. You straighten your sitting posture, gather yourself. “Right. You can go first, thank you for being here”

She hesitated, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I can’t leave you alone like this."

“I’ll be fine, I'll just stay here for a couple minutes to sober up, then I'll take the cab,” you explained. “Promise”.

A pang of frustration flickered across Jiwon's face, her sympathetic gaze lingering on your burdened spirit. She fidgeted with the strap of her purse, and you caught sight of a fleeting flush on her cheeks. It seemed as though she might have been embarrassed by whatever thoughts she harbored or the words she almost spoke, using your suggestion as an escape.

"Alright. Promise me you’ll go straight home." she sighed, her feigned surrender tinged with uncertainty as to where the two of you would stand in the aftermath of this night.

“I promise” you answered.

With a final glance, she stood and left, her figure disappearing into the night. Alone once more, you reached for the soju bottle, pouring what remained into your glass. The cold burn slid down your throat, offering little comfort.

Park Jiwon, she is an excellent friend, but her role in your life had remained firmly in the platonic realm. You couldn't see her romantically, and not being platonic with a friend is exactly how you found yourself in this situation in the first place. Plus there's another reason why you couldn't be with anybody else right now.

Your fingers toyed with a ring on your ring finger, the silver two strands intertwining like an infinity sign. A row of tiny diamonds adorned it, capturing light in their faceted depths. You lifted your hand, eyeing the ring as though presented with a cruel joke—how something so beautiful could symbolize the absence of light in your life.

The promise to Jiwon lingered, as did the knowledge that you should head home. Yet, you hesitated, aware that returning to your cold home on this day would only accentuate the issues plaguing you. In the back of your mind, a part of you yearned for a shred of hope, an irrational belief that perhaps something miraculous might transpire here. This bar had become a place of hope, however fleeting or destructive, from the reality awaiting you at home.

Your gaze lingered on the ring as memories began to resurface. Drowsiness crept in, pulling you into the haze of a dream. When you opened your eyes again, the scene hadn’t changed. The same table, the same empty glasses. But the person sitting across from you was no longer Jiwon.

—

"Ya!! Are you listening? I'm paying for the drinks, and you're ignoring me?" Minnie's voice jolted you. She sat opposite you, her sharp eyes narrowing in frustration. her chopsticks pointed at you like a weapon.

The sight of her stirred something in you—a pang of nostalgia, a mix of joy and regret. "But I’m paying for the meat," you retorted weakly, though she ignored you entirely, continuing her tirade.

She sighed dramatically, slapping the table for emphasis. "Can you believe my parents? My career is on the line, and they want me to just drop everything and go home to Thailand?" She let out an exasperated sigh, her words tumbling over each other.

Deciding to give her your full attention, lest her tirade be endless, you asked, "Can you tell me again why they wanted you back?"

Minnie hesitated, her face contorted with a mixture of confusion and irritation. "They said I've done enough; it's time to think long term, find myself a partner, a husband. That's their reason, at least," she explained.

She then continued murmuring under her breath, "I think they just want me to be married off to a royal bloodline so our family could get even closer to being Thai royalty."

Silence enveloped you both, acknowledging the gravity of her situation and your shared understanding that she desired nothing more than a sympathetic ear.

Minnie's frustration reached a crescendo as she let out a frustrated "Aggghhh!!"

You found yourself staring at her, the sight of her distress oddly endearing. A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. you don't know when it started but at some point during your history of friendship, without realizing it, you were falling for your dear friend, Minnie. Afraid to jeopardize the relationship, you concealed these feelings deep within, unable to pinpoint one singular reason for your infatuation. It could have been her alluring smile, captivating personality, soulful gaze, lithe frame, or an intoxicating blend of all these traits.

Minnie's sharp eyes caught you in the act of smiling, "Ya!!" she teased, "Look at you smiling, it must be fun having a grandfather who's the opposite of my parents.".

"He's giving you all of his as an inheritance," Minnie remarked, her tone laced with indignation as she nibbled on the pork you had purchased. "I don't know why I'm paying for you when you're rich."

You corrected her gently, "Well... not yet."

Minnie started to question whether your grandfather was still alive, but you interrupted her. "I didn't mean it like that!" You realized you had raised your voice, yet Minnie appeared unfazed as she continued drinking from her beer mug.

When she signaled for you to continue, you explained, "I can't have the inheritance right now, and if I don't get married before turning 30, I might lose it." You paraphrased your grandfather's words: "I don't want all this wealth given to a house bum; you need to have at least a family.”

Minnie's arm remained in midair, her mouth hovering over the mug as she paused, processing the gravity of your situation. After what felt like an eternity, she gently set it down and fixed her gaze on you. Silence pervaded the table as she mulled over your words.

Finally breaking the silence, she said, "So you need to be married to get your inheritance?" Her eyes held a mix of concern and curiosity. You found yourself furrowing your brow, unsure where this revelation would lead.

"And my parents don't want me to continue with my career because..." She mimicked air quotes, "Think long term, find a good husband."

It was then that you noticed your fingers were entwined with the silver pair of rings hanging around your neck on a chain, their design intricate and familiar. An heirloom from your grandfather, their intricate design held meaning beyond just the gift itself. In this moment of realization, you knew where this conversation would eventually take you—back to a familiar crossroads, one you'd faced before, yet helplessly watched unfold.

"Why don’t we just get married?" Minnie proposed, the words hanging in the air like a question that demanded an answer.

You blinked, convinced you’d misheard her.

"What?"

"Let’s get married," Minnie said again, her tone firm. "Why not? We’re already close, we get along, It solves your problem, and mine. You can be my excuse for my parents not to worry, and you secure your inheritance like you said."

The scene felt eerily familiar yet disjointed from your reality, causing you to laugh nervously.

"Are you serious?" you asked, while laughing.

Minnie's tone turned sharp when she yelled, "Of course I’m serious." Her voice softened, the faintest hint of vulnerability slipping through her usual bravado.

"Unless marrying me is that funny to you?" Her distress at your laughter was apparent.

"No, it’s not that," you said quickly. It hit you then: she wasn't joking, despite the alcohol. Both of you were clear-headed and sober enough to be making this decision. "I just—"

"You’re insane," you said, trying to mask the way your chest tightened.

"Maybe," she admitted, her tone lighter now. She was already reaching for the grill, flipping pieces of meat with practiced ease. "But you can’t deny it makes sense."

Your heart twisted at the suggestion, an unfamiliar blend of hope and dread coursing through you. For years, you’d hidden your feelings for Minnie—feelings that had grown quietly, relentlessly, despite your best efforts to suppress them.

"Okay, If you're serious. You're suggesting a marriage of convenience, right?" You asked, seeking clarification even though the thought of Minnie proposing to you elicited an immediate, overwhelming 'yes.' However, you had to temper your enthusiasm given the pragmatic nature of her proposal. It wasn't love or a confession; it was an offer mutually beneficial for both of you.

Minnie looked surprised by your question, replying, "Yeah... Yeah, of course, marriage of convenience, what else could it be?"

Perfect. You almost laughed agian at the irony. For her, it was a convenient solution to a problem. For you, it was a chance to stay close to her in a way you’d never dared to hope for.

You reached out for her hand, and Minnie complied, placing her hand on the table. You took off the necklace—the pair of silver rings meant for your grandfather's heir. A hazy sense of déjà vu washed over you as you removed the rings from the chain. The air seemed thick with unspoken words, and you felt your chest constrict as if this scene had played out before. This weight pressed against your consciousness, but you couldn't discern why.

"This is an heirloom," you began. "My grandfather’s. If we’re going to do this… it has to be with these rings. We really have to get married, we can’t trick my grandfather" Your heart pounded as you extended the ring.

Minnie’s eyes widened slightly as you placed one of the rings in her hand. The moment felt surreal, yet inevitable, like you were playing out a scene you’d already lived.

For a moment, something flickered across her face—something soft, almost vulnerable. Then she smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re such a sentimental idiot,” she said, though her tone lacked its usual bite.

"Nicha Yontararak," you whispered, your voice steady despite the tremor in your chest. "Will you marry me?"

Her response came quickly, her lips curving into a small, almost shy smile. "Yes."

The dream fractured then, the edges dissolving as reality crashed back in. You woke up with a start, slumped over the table where the conversation had once unfolded. The bar was empty now, save for one figure standing over you. A cold metal brushed against your cheek—the ring finger of a hand, as if beckoning you.

"Yunjae," the voice said, familiar and unmistakable. You looked up to see Minnie, her face obscured by a cap and mask.

"Why?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question carried the weight of four years of silence. "Why did you say yes?"

Her expression was unreadable as the world around you faded to black.

–

Your eyes flickered open to reveal the interior of a car, the engine's low hum the only soundtrack to this moment. You turned your head toward the driver, the faint glow of city lights illuminating her form in a fleeting manner. As your vision cleared, you recognized Minnie behind the wheel. She was dressed in a sleek pink suit jacket with matching pants, her attire immaculately tailored to fit her figure. Beneath the jacket, a cropped top peeked through, adding a casual edge to her otherwise professional look.

Questions flooded your mind. How did she find you? Did she remember that place? And most importantly, does she know the significance of today's date?

Your gaze lingered on her outfit, and a thought struck you—she must have come straight from work. The slight crease in her sleeves and the faint traces of fatigue around her eyes hinted at a long day, but she carried herself with an air of determination. Whatever had brought her here, it was enough to pull her directly from her world and into yours.

Before you could fully explore these thoughts, Minnie spoke, "Jiwon called me. She told me you refused to go home." The answer felt like a slap, and you couldn't help but laugh at your own naivety. Of course, Jiwon had informed her.

Your gaze fell upon Minnie's hand resting on the steering wheel, the silver ring glinting. A deep sigh escaped your lips as you pondered the question: "Where did it all go wrong?" Your mind whirled with memories and regret, searching for answers to a past you couldn't change.

—

In the aftermath of your impromptu proposal in the pojangmacha, you and Minnie knew you had to convince your grandfather of your relationship's authenticity. To achieve this, you devised a plan that entailed showing affection publicly—holding hands, sharing stolen kisses, and spending time together.

You had fallen for Minnie well before this event, but enacting your love intensified these feelings. The line between your performance and genuine emotions blurred, as your heart yearned to reveal your true sentiments. Your unrequited love swelled with each passing moment that deepened your connection. You could only hope that your efforts would ignite the same burning desire in Minnie's heart.

Similarly, you had to convince Minnie's parents that you were indeed the ideal husband for their daughter. You showcased your commitment, respect, and dedication to making her happy. You took an active role in family gatherings, bonding with Minnie's siblings, and proving your worth as a son-in-law.

Once these obstacles were overcome, everything else seemed to happen at breakneck speed. Wedding plans came together swiftly; invitations were sent, venues booked, and the big day loomed closer. In the blur of excitement, you found yourself standing at the altar, about to exchange vows with Minnie. The transition from pojangmacha proposal to nuptials felt almost dreamlike—too quick to fully process.

The ceremony took place in a remote chapel far from unwanted attention. Pews were populated with guests that were thoroughly selected, aside from close family only few were invited.

As you stood before the altar, the chapel filled with the soft hum of anticipation, you could see her—Minnie—beginning her journey down the aisle. Through the delicate veil that framed her face, a smile bloomed, and even from this distance, it was impossible for you not to be entranced. With each measured step, she approached, each stride bringing you closer together.

Your eyes trailed over her dress, so resplendent and elegant, as she moved with the grace of a dancer. The sunlight filtering through the chapel's stained-glass windows bathed everything in an ethereal glow. Each hue, dancing and twirling across the floor, seemed to celebrate our union.

The air in the small, candle-lit altar was heavy with quiet reverence, the murmurs of a few close witnesses fading as the officiant began to speak. It was an intimate affair—just as they had planned. No grand celebrations, no sea of faces, only the people who mattered most.

You stood across from Minnie, your palms slightly damp as you held the delicate silver ring between your fingers. The ring’s intricate design seemed to weigh heavier in your hand than it should, its symbolism pressing on you more than you cared to admit.

Minnie, radiant in her understated elegance, met your gaze with that familiar mix of mischief and something else you couldn’t quite name. She looked calm, collected—but you knew her well enough to catch the flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

“This is it,” the officiant said, his voice steady. “The vows you exchange today will bind your hearts and lives together. Do you wish to proceed?”

You glanced at Minnie, searching her face for any sign of regret. She gave him the faintest of nods, her lips curving into a small, reassuring smile.

You cleared your throat, your voice quiet but firm as you began.

“Minnie, I know we’re standing here today not for the reasons most couples do. We’ve always been practical, and this… this is no different. But I want you to know that I’ll honor this vow, not just as your husband, but as your friend.

I promise to be there when you need someone to lean on, to laugh with, and even to argue with when the mood strikes. I promise to keep our trust unbroken and to stand by you, no matter how complicated life gets.

This isn’t just a promise for today, but for every day after. Not out of duty, but because you’re someone I respect, someone I’ve always believed in. And if that’s the foundation of our marriage, then I think we’ll be alright.”

You made a commitment to yourself although some might consider this marriage as a fraud, to you at least you didn’t want your vow to be a lie.

Your voice softened as you slipped the ring onto her finger, your hand lingering a moment longer than necessary. For a second, you thought you saw her eyes glisten, but she blinked it away before it could fall.

Minnie took a small breath before she began, her tone steady but tinged with something deeper.

“Yunjae, you’ve always been the kind of person who sees things through—whether it’s fixing a broken coffee machine or helping me dodge my family’s relentless matchmaking.

Today, I stand here because I trust you. I trust that no matter what, you’ll keep your word.

I can’t promise that I’ll always be the easiest person to deal with, or that life will suddenly make sense because of this decision. But I can promise that I’ll try. I’ll try to be someone who doesn’t let you down, someone who holds up my end of this partnership.

And who knows?”—she allowed herself a small laugh—“Maybe we’ll surprise each other along the way.”

She slid the matching silver band onto his finger, her touch light but deliberate. For a fleeting moment, her fingers brushed against yours, and it felt like more than just an accident.

The officiant’s voice broke the silence that hung between them. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may seal your vows with a kiss.”

You hesitated, not out of reluctance, but because the moment felt heavier than you had anticipated. You leaned forward slowly, your lips brushing hers in the lightest, briefest of touches—enough to be proper, yet leaving a quiet ache in its wake.

When the two of you pulled apart, Minnie’s eyes met yours again, and for the first time that day, her smile reached all the way to her eyes.

The witnesses applauded politely, and the ceremony moved on, but You couldn’t shake the lingering warmth of her lips or the quiet weight of her words.

For a marriage born out of convenience, the moment felt startlingly real.

—

The silence of the apartment was heavy, oppressive, and electric all at once. Every tick of the wall clock echoed like a heartbeat, a relentless reminder of the moment you now found yourself in. This wasn’t just any night. It was your wedding night.

Minnie lingered by the doorway, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to break the silence that stretched between you like a live wire, taut and humming with unspoken tension.

You leaned against the counter, your jacket slung over your arm, your tie loosened just enough to breathe. But breathing felt impossible now, every inhale shallow, every exhale trembling.

“It feels strange,” she said suddenly, her voice soft but slicing through the stillness like a blade.

You glanced at her, catching the way her eyes darted nervously around the room, avoiding yours. “What does?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

“This,” she said, gesturing weakly at the space around you. “Us. Here. Like this.”

You let out a dry laugh, more out of habit than amusement. “Yeah. It does.”

She moved further into the room, her steps slow and deliberate, as if she were testing the ground beneath her. Her hand trailed along the edge of the couch, her touch light but deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine. “I guess I should change,” she murmured, still not meeting your eyes.

You nodded automatically, your throat tight. “Yeah. Me too.”

You retreated to the guest room, the cool air brushing against your skin as you stripped off your wedding attire and slipped into the silky pajamas. The fabric clung to your body, soft and cool, but it did nothing to quell the heat simmering beneath your skin. When you returned to the living room, you collapsed onto the sofa, your mind racing.

A few moments later, you heard the soft click of a door opening. Your head turned instinctively, and there she was. Minnie. She stepped out from the bedroom, her long, black hair cascading over her shoulders like a midnight waterfall. The sight of her stole the breath from your lungs.

She wore a gown of white lace, the fabric sheer enough to hint at the curves beneath, yet modest enough to leave everything to your imagination. The delicate material clung to her body like a second skin, the neckline dipping just enough to reveal the faintest shadow of cleavage. A slit ran up one side, exposing the smooth expanse of her thigh, and your gaze lingered there, tracing the line of her leg with a hunger you couldn’t suppress.

The air between you grew thick, charged with something primal and undeniable. Your pulse quickened, a throbbing ache building low in your abdomen as your eyes roamed over her. The swell of her hips, the curve of her waist, the way the lace hugged her breasts—every detail was a temptation, a provocation.

She hesitated by the doorway, her hands fidgeting slightly, her lips parting as if she were about to speak but couldn’t find the words. Her eyes met yours, and in that instant, it was as though the world had stopped. The tension between you was palpable, a magnetic pull that neither of you could resist.

“Minnie…” you said, your voice rough, strained with desire.

Her gaze flickered to yours, holding it for a heartbeat before dropping to the floor. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You didn’t,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out before you could think. “You’re not.”

She took a tentative step closer, her bare feet silent against the hardwood floor. The scent of her perfume—something floral and intoxicating—wafted toward you, filling your senses. “This is… different, isn’t it?” she said, her voice carrying a vulnerability that made your chest tighten.

You nodded slowly, your throat dry. “Yeah. It is.”

The space between you seemed to shrink with every step she took, the air growing heavier, hotter. Her eyes searched for yours, dark and unreadable, but there was something in them—a flicker of desire, of uncertainty, of need.

“Yunjae,” she began, your name trembling on her lips. “Do you think we should…?”

Your chest tightened, your heart pounding in your ears. You knew exactly what she was asking, even without the words to complete the thought. You leaned back against the counter, running a hand through your hair to buy yourself time.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice low and rough. “Do you want to?”

Her breath hitched, and you could see her struggling to find the answer. “I don’t know either,” she confessed, her honesty cutting through you like a knife. “This isn’t how I pictured…”

“Me neither,” you said quickly, desperate to ease her discomfort. “But here we are.”

The air between you crackled with something unspoken, something electric and terrifying all at once. You took a hesitant step closer, your pulse hammering in your ears. The heat of her body radiated toward you, and you could almost feel the warmth of her skin against yours.

“We don’t have to do anything we’re not ready for,” you said, your tone firm, though you weren’t sure if you were reassuring her or yourself.

She dropped her gaze, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her dress. “It’s not about being ready,” she said, her voice so soft you almost missed it. “It’s about what it would mean.”

“What do you think it would mean?” you asked, your throat tightening as you waited for her answer.

She lifted her eyes to meet yours, and the vulnerability there made your breath catch. “That this is real,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “That we’re not just pretending anymore.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Of course it was real—how could it not be? But hearing her say it, seeing the fear and hope mingled in her expression, made it feel all the more tangible.

“It is real,” you said, your voice rough. “But that doesn’t mean we have to rush anything.”

She took a step closer then, and you could feel the warmth of her presence, the gravity of her drawing you in. Her hand reached out, her fingers brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

“Yunjae,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “what do you want?”

The question struck you like lightning, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you reached out, your hand hovering near her face before you finally let it rest against her cheek.

Her skin was soft, warm, and you could feel the faint tremor in her as she leaned into your touch. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you said, your voice raw with emotion.

“You won’t,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving yours.

Her breath was warm against your skin, her closeness intoxicating. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to close the gap, to let go of the restraint that had held you back for so long. Your other hand found her waist, the lace of her gown smooth beneath your fingertips, and you pulled her closer, your bodies almost touching.

Her lips parted, her breath hitching as your foreheads brushed together. The tension between you was unbearable, the air thick with desire and hesitation. You could feel the rapid beat of her heart, the way her body trembled against yours.

But just as you let yourself imagine it—just as you felt the pull to kiss her, to lose yourself in her—the sharp, jarring ring of your phone shattered the moment.

You froze, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife. Minnie blinked, her eyes wide with surprise, and you reluctantly pulled away, your hand falling from her waist as you reached for your phone on the counter.

The screen lit up with the name “Grandfather.” You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the answer button, before glancing at Minnie. She took a step back, her arms wrapping around herself as if to shield herself from the sudden intrusion.

“You should get that,” she said softly, her voice tinged with both relief and disappointment.

You nodded, your chest tight as you answered the call. “Grandfather?”

“Yunjae,” his voice boomed through the phone, loud and commanding. “I just wanted to make sure you two made it home safely. How’s married life treating you so far?”

You forced a laugh, your eyes flickering to Minnie, who was now standing by the window, her back to you. “It’s… it’s good, Grandfather. We’re just settling in.”

“Good, good,” he said, his tone softening. “Take care of her, Yunjae. She’s a special one.”

“I will,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. Then, almost as an afterthought, your grandfather added, “Oh, and by the way, Jiwon just returned from overseas. She asked about you.”

The name hit you like a bolt of lightning. “Jiwon?” you repeated, louder than you intended, your voice carrying across the room.

Minnie turned sharply at the sound of the name, her eyes widening slightly. You could see the curiosity flicker across her face, though she quickly masked it, turning back toward the window.

“Yes, Jiwon,” your grandfather continued, oblivious to the tension his words had just created. “She’s back in town. I thought you’d want to know.”

“Right,” you said, your mind racing. “Thanks for letting me know, Grandfather.”

After a few more pleasantries, you ended the call and set the phone down, the silence of the apartment pressing in on you once more. Minnie turned to face you, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp with questions she wasn’t asking.

“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice quiet but laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” you said, running a hand through your hair. “Just my grandfather checking in. He, uh… mentioned that an old friend of mine is back in town.”

“Jiwon,” she said, her tone neutral but her gaze piercing. “I heard.”

You nodded, unsure of how much to say. “Yeah. We grew up together. She’s been overseas for a while.”

Minnie nodded slowly, her arms still wrapped around herself. “That’s… nice,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching yours, before turning toward the bedroom. “I think… I’m going to head to bed. It’s been a long day.”

You nodded, the ache in your chest intensifying. “Yeah. Of course.”

She hesitated at the doorway, her hand resting on the frame as if she wanted to say something more. But instead, she simply said, “Goodnight, Yunjae,” before disappearing into the bedroom.

The soft click of the door closing behind her felt like a finality, a punctuation mark on the night. You sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. The weight of the day—and the night—pressed down on you, suffocating and inescapable. The memory of her body, her warmth, her scent, lingered in your mind, a tantalizing reminder of what could have been.

—

The memory lingered like a phantom, the weight of her warmth and scent still wrapped around you. Yunjae closed his eyes, trying to shake it off, but the pull of what could’ve been was stronger than he liked to admit.

The soft hum of the car engine brought him back, the rhythmic vibration beneath him grounding him in the present. His eyes fluttered open, the dim glow of passing street lights illuminating Minnie’s face, her features etched with a quiet tension.

“Why did you drink that much?” Minnie’s voice broke the silence, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You glanced at her from the passenger seat. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles pale, but her focus remained on the empty road ahead. The streetlights cast fleeting shadows across her face, accentuating the tension in her jaw.

“And why go all the way to that pojangmacha?” she continued, her voice steady but probing, cutting through the silence.

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. “I could ask you the same thing,” you finally muttered, leaning your head back against the seat.

She let out a small, humorless laugh. “That’s not an answer, Yunjae,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of frustration and concern.

You looked out the window, watching the world blur past in a haze of light and shadow. “I just… needed to clear my head,” you said after a moment, your tone low.

Minnie glanced at you briefly before returning her eyes to the road. “And drinking was the best way to do that?” she asked, her words sharper now.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Maybe,” you admitted. “I didn’t plan to drink that much. It just… happened.”

She didn’t respond immediately, but the silence between you was far from comfortable. The only sound was the soft hum of the engine and the occasional noise from the tires against the asphalt.

“Why?” she asked again, quieter this time. Her voice had lost its edge, replaced by something softer, something closer to worry. “What were you trying to forget?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. You swallowed hard, your mind flashing back to the memories that had surfaced earlier—the echoes of laughter, the warmth of shared moments, the way everything once felt so easy between you. Your relationship had been so bright back then, a beacon of connection and understanding. But now, the contrast was stark, almost painful, like a photograph faded with time.

“Nothing,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Minnie shook her head, her grip on the steering wheel tightening. “You’re terrible at lying,” she said, her tone a mix of exasperation and something else—something closer to sadness.

You didn’t respond, the weight of the moment pressing down on your chest. Instead, you turned your gaze back to the window, hoping the passing scenery would offer some kind of distraction.

…

The silence stretched, and you couldn’t take it anymore. Turning to her, you blurted out, “Why are we like this, Minnie?”

She froze, her fingers flexing against the wheel, her lips parting slightly as if she didn’t expect the question. Slowly, her voice leaves her mouth, as if she was hesitant. “What… do you mean?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

“This,” you gestured between the two of you, the frustration clear in your tone. “The silence, the distance. It wasn’t like this before. What happened to us?”

The silence in the car felt suffocating, your words hanging heavy between you both. Minnie’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles turning white. Her lips pressed together into a thin line as her gaze stayed locked on the empty road ahead. For a moment, you thought she wouldn’t respond.

But then her voice cut through the tense air, sharp and brittle. “You think I don’t wonder the same thing?” she shot back, her tone trembling just slightly at the edges.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head in frustration. “Then why don’t we talk about it? Why do we keep pretending like this is fine when it’s not?”

She glanced at you briefly, her eyes flashing with something between anger and pain. “What should we talk about, Yunjae? Should we just end this? Is that what you want?” Her words came fast now, a barrage of questions that hit you like punches, each one sharper than the last. “Sure, okay, why not? Let’s get divorced. That’s what you want, don’t you?”

Your chest tightened, the venom in her voice cutting deeper than you thought possible. Your mouth opened, but no words came out. For a moment, you just stared at her, stunned by her sudden outburst. The word “divorce” lingered in the air, harsh and unyielding.

And then it hit you—that question wasn’t entirely meant for you. The way her voice cracked, the way her eyes darted to the side for just a second—it was as though she was asking herself, questioning everything just as much as she was questioning you.

Memories of the past came rushing in, unbidden. Even before your marriage, she would jokingly throw out remarks about divorce whenever you two had playful arguments. Back then, it was just a bad joke, something you brushed off easily. But over time, as the relationship began to sour, the sarcasm faded from her tone, replaced by something heavier. Something real.

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap, your nails digging into your palms as the realization settled in. It felt like a cruel irony, the weight of her words suffocating you. And yet, something in you snapped.

“Sure,” you said, your voice low but laced with anger. “Yes, let’s get divorced. It sounds like that’s what you’ve wanted all along. At this point, why not? I’d wish for it too.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them, each syllable fueled by frustration and hurt.Her foot slammed on the brakes, the car jerking violently to a halt in the middle of the empty road. The force of it threw you forward, the seat belt digging into your chest as you caught yourself against the dashboard. Your head snapped toward her in disbelief, but the fiery glare in her eyes made you freeze.

It was as if your words had ignited something even angrier within her, a flame that she refused to let die down. The weight of the moment pressed down on you, and though the sudden halt had taken your breath away, it wasn’t the car’s jolt that had you reeling—it was her.

You glanced out the window and realized with a start that you were already in front of your apartment building. The neon lights from the convenience store across the street flickered, casting a dull glow on the car's interior. But Minnie didn’t say a word, her expression unreadable now as her hand moved to the gearshift.

The silence returned, thick and oppressive, as she slowly released the brakes and guided the car into the underground garage. Her movements were controlled, deliberate, as though she were holding herself together with the thin thread of composure she had left.

You wanted to say something, anything, to ease the crushing weight of the silence. But the words refused to come. The hum of the engine was all that filled the car, its persistent noise somehow highlighting how alone you felt.

The car jerked to a stop, and without a second thought, Minnie threw the car door open with a slam, the sound sharp and final. The anger in her movements was unmistakable—each action deliberate, each step away from you carrying the weight of something you weren’t ready to face. You could feel the sting of her frustration in the air, and it made your chest tighten.

You sat there in the car for a moment, paralyzed. Everything had happened so quickly, faster than you could process. Her words, the anger, the sudden shift in the air—it felt like the end of something. Your heart beat in your ears as your mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. Was this really the end of everything? Was this what your relationship had come to?

But no. You couldn’t let it end like this, not without confronting the mess you’d both created. You shook yourself out of the daze, forcing your body to move, to take action. This conversation—no, this argument—wasn’t finished. It needed to end here and now.

You opened the car door, your breath shallow, and rushed after her, ignoring the heavy feeling in your chest. You barely made it to the elevator before the doors closed. You caught a glimpse of her, just a fleeting moment, but it was enough. Her eyes met yours, as her face was slowly covered by the closing metal doors.

Your heart raced as you watched the elevator ascend, and you cursed under your breath. You weren’t going to let it go like this. You couldn’t. Not when everything felt so broken, but so fixable at the same time.

You pressed the button for the elevator, your hand gripping the edge of the doorframe, waiting for it to return. The silence in the garage seemed to stretch on endlessly, and with every passing second, the weight of what was happening only seemed to grow heavier.

You stepped in to the elevator, the slow, rhythmic ping of the floor numbers echoing in your mind. The numbers on the screen flickered, counting up, but in that moment, they felt more like a cruel countdown rather than progress. Each number, each floor felt like a heavy weight pressing down on your chest, giving you just enough time to think—too much time to think.

You tried to recall the last moment you saw Minnie, the brief glance exchanged before the elevator doors shut between you. It had been only a second, but in your mind, it felt like a lifetime. Your thoughts were in conflict, each memory fighting for dominance, each one pulling you in a different direction.

The numbers on the elevator’s display shifted slowly, and you watched them one by one.

"One..." You could almost feel the heat from her glare again, that fiery anger that had burned through the car earlier. It was all too real, too raw.

"Two..." But was it really that? You thought back, trying to see beyond the anger. Had her gaze been cold? That piercing coldness that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Three..." It wasn’t that simple, was it? Maybe it wasn’t anger at all. Maybe you saw sadness in her eyes—real, raw sadness that had made your chest tighten, your breath catch in your throat.

"Four..." Or maybe it wasn’t any of those things. Maybe you had been too clouded by your own frustration to truly see her. Maybe, just maybe, there had been a tear glinting in her eye, too fast to catch, but real.

"Five..." The numbers came to an end, and the harsh ding of the elevator doors opening brought you back to the present.

You stepped out of the elevator, your mind still swirling with conflicting thoughts, but you knew you had no more time for hesitation. The door to your apartment was right there in front of you, yet it felt miles away. You approached it slowly, every step feeling heavier than the last. Your hand reached out for the door handle, and as you gripped it, you hesitated for a moment. The door felt impossibly heavy, almost as if it were holding you back, forcing you to confront whatever lay on the other side.

You pushed through the weight, twisting the knob and stepping inside. The apartment was eerily quiet, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the walls. It felt so different now, so foreign. The last few years had drained the warmth, the life, from this place. And now, here you were, standing in the same space with Minnie, but it felt like a universe separated the two of you.

You closed the door quietly behind you, the sound echoing in the empty apartment. You didn’t know what to say or do, but you knew that this couldn’t be ignored any longer. This silence, this tension—it was unbearable.

The tension in the room was suffocating. You stood in the middle of the living room, your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your breath shallow as you tried to keep your emotions in check. Minnie only a few steps away, hunched over the sofa facing the window, deliberately facing away from you. The dim light from the single lamp cast long shadows across the walls, the space between them feeling like an unbridgeable chasm.

“Minnie,” you said, your voice firm but edged with exhaustion. “We can’t leave this conversation here.”

She finally faced you locking her eyes to yours. You noticed her eyes were swell as if she had just recently cried, yet her face was a mask of indifference. It was the look she always wore, the one that had become her shield. But you weren't about to let her hide behind it tonight.

She let out a sharp laugh, bitter and mocking. “You’re so eager to end this, aren’t you?”

Her words stung, and you clenched your fists at your sides. “Don’t kid yourself, Minnie,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone measured. “You know I’m right.”

She raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharpening. “Right about what?”

You took a breath, steadying yourself. “You’re more successful in your career now than ever before. Your parents can’t pressure you like they used to.”

She frowned, clearly unimpressed. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

You stepped closer, your voice dropping as you tried to make her see reason. “This agreement—this marriage of convenience—it’s outlived its purpose. We don’t have to do this anymore. We don’t have to be together anymore.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Her lips parted slightly, as if the words had caught her off guard. But then her expression hardened, and she shot back, “What about your inheritance? You still need to be married to get it. You’ve got over a year left before you even qualify.”

Her tone was biting, but there was something else beneath it—something you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat.

She seized on your silence, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “Is that what this is about? Ending this so you can run off to be with the woman you actually love? Jiwon, wasn’t it?”

The accusation slammed into you, the air in the room growing heavier. It wasn’t the first time she’d brought Jiwon into a fight, and it stung just as much as every time before.

You inhaled sharply, trying to keep your temper in check. “Minnie, how many times do I have to say this?” you said, your voice low but trembling with frustration. “Jiwon is just a friend. She has always been just a friend.”

But she didn’t waver. Her gaze stayed locked on yours, sharp and unrelenting. “Am I wrong? You went out drinking at some far-off pojangmacha with her, of all people, in the middle of the night. Then suddenly, you’re bringing this up now, like this is some big revelation. What else am I supposed to think, Yunjae?”

You stared at her, disbelief and anger surging in equal measure. “Do you even hear yourself, Minnie?” you demanded, your voice rising. “This again? Jiwon again? How many times are we going to do this?”

Her silence spoke volumes, but you didn’t let up. “You keep throwing her name in my face like I haven’t explained myself a thousand times already. You think I enjoy repeating myself? Telling you over and over that there’s nothing there, just to have you ignore me every time?”

Her lips pressed into a tight line, but she didn’t respond.

“Do you even know what day it is today?” you asked, your patience cracking under the weight of it all. “Do you know why I was at that far-off pojangmacha?”

Her shoulders stiffened, but she still didn’t answer.

“Do you really have no idea, Minnie?” you pressed, your voice growing louder, harsher. “Today is our anniversary, for fuck’s sake. Instead of celebrating with you, instead of being with my wife, I was sitting there drinking alone, drowning in my own goddamn misery while you were nowhere to be found.”

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came, and the disbelief in her expression pushed you further.

“And Jiwon?” you continued, your voice sharp now, cutting through the tension. “She was there because you weren’t. She sat with me, talked to me, did the one thing you couldn’t—she showed up. She was a companion. A friend. That’s all she’s ever been, no matter how many times your insecurities tell you otherwise.”

Her breath hitched, her shoulders trembling slightly, but you weren’t done.

“It might’ve started as a marriage of convenience,” you said, your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to overwhelm you, “but I’ve never treated it as a joke. Not once. I’ve given it everything—my patience, my effort, my whole goddamn self. I’ve tried to be a good husband, or at the very least, a friend you could count on.”

You took a step closer, forcing her to meet your gaze. “But you, Minnie? You’ve avoided me. Treated me like a stranger. Like I wasn’t even worth the bare minimum effort to make this work. And every time you bring up Jiwon, every time you accuse me of something like this, it’s like you’re trying to justify shutting me out. To make me the villain instead of facing whatever it is that’s really going on.”

Her hands clenched at her sides, her head bowing slightly as if your words had physically struck her.

“The least you could’ve done,” you said, your voice quieter now, but no less firm, “was trust me. Trust what I’ve told you, over and over again. And try to preserve what we had—our friendship, at the very least.”

Her arms dropped to her sides, her fingers twitching as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

You pressed on, your words gaining momentum. “I tried to be understanding. I told myself it was your job, that it was just too taxing. But there’s only so much I can compromise, Minnie. Do you know how much it hurts every time I think about what we used to be? What we’ve thrown away because of this… this stupid marriage?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. For the first time in the entire argument, she looked vulnerable—small.

“Isn’t that why you’ve grown distant?” you asked, your voice softer now, almost pleading. “You regret this, don’t you? That’s why you’re like this. Isn’t it? Tell me, Minnie. Why did you say yes in the first place?”

She stared at you, her eyes wide, her breathing shallow. For a moment, you thought she wouldn’t answer. But then, her voice broke through the silence.

“Because it made sense,” she said, her tone flat, almost mechanical.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Of course. That’s the reason. ‘It made sense.’”

“It’s not just that!” she snapped, her voice breaking, the anger and frustration spilling out all at once. “It’s not only because it made sense.”

“Then tell me!” you shouted, your voice echoing off the walls of the apartment. “Give me another reason why we should continue this, Minnie, because what we have right now—whatever this is—isn’t worth keeping!”

Her hands balled into fists, and for a moment, you thought she’d lash out at you. But instead, she took a shuddering breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Because I was scared!” she yelled, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Because I thought I was going to lose you!”

Her confession hung in the air, raw and heavy, piercing through the anger like a blade.

“What?” you whispered, your voice faltering, confusion overtaking your frustration.

“I acted that way because I was afraid,” she repeated, her voice cracking. “Because this marriage meant we can’t go back. Because I realized too late that if I lose you in this marriage, I’d lose you forever.”

Her words lingered, their meaning teetering on the edge of something deeper, unspoken. She looked away, her arms wrapping around herself as if shielding something she couldn’t bring herself to admit.

You stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in, the truth cutting deeper than you anticipated.

Her voice wavered as she continued, a hint of desperation slipping through. “Being with you, acting like a couple—it made me happy. Too happy. But then it all started feeling too real. It felt like I was enjoying it too much.”

Your breath hitched as her meaning sank in.

“Minnie…” you said, your tone softer, a tremor of realization in your voice.

The silence that followed was deafening, filled with everything she couldn’t say and everything you weren’t sure you wanted to hear.

But she didn’t stop. Her voice trembled as her emotions spilled out, years of fear and pain surfacing all at once. “And then it hit me. This wasn’t real. It was never real. I was so scared of losing you, I regret agreeing to something I didn’t even understand. And every day, I kept thinking, ‘What if he wakes up and realizes he doesn’t need me? What if he decides to leave?’ So I distanced myself. I thought it’d hurt less that way. But it didn’t. It just made it worse.”

She drew in a shuddering breath, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It felt like I was taking advantage of you. Like I was holding you hostage in something you never wanted. Every time I looked at you, I felt guilty. It felt like I was coveting something I didn’t deserve. And I… I didn’t know what to do with that. I thought if I kept some distance, it’d hurt less when…” Her voice faltered as she swallowed hard. “…when we finally ended this.”

Her voice broke entirely as the tears finally came, streaming down her face in uncontrollable waves. She brought her hands up to cover her face, but her sobs filled the room, raw and unguarded.

You froze, the sight of her unraveling like this rendering you speechless. All the anger, all the frustration that had built up inside you, dissolved into something else—something achingly tender.

Without thinking, you stepped forward, closing the space between you. Gently, you reached out, your hands trembling as they brushed against her arms, then her shoulders, before finally pulling her into a hesitant embrace.

She stiffened at first, but then, as if the dam inside her finally broke, she leaned into you, clutching at your shirt as though letting go might shatter her entirely. Her sobs wracked her body, her pain and fear pouring out into the silence between you.

And for the first time, you found yourself holding her not out of obligation, but because you didn’t want to let her go. Slowly, carefully, you reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you brushed the tears from her cheeks.

She flinched at first, but when she felt the gentle press of your fingers, she stilled. Her hands fell to her sides, and she stood there, her sobs quieting as you wiped away her tears in silence.

Your thumb lingered on her cheek for a moment, and then another, your touch soft, unhurried, as if you were trying to erase not just her tears but the pain they carried.

“Minnie,” you finally said, your voice a low murmur. “I had no idea…”. You cupped her face wanting to meet her eyes

Her shoulders shook again, but this time she didn’t pull away. She leaned into your hand, her tears still falling but slower now, her breathing uneven.

“All this time…” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “You’ve been scared. And I—”

You stopped, your throat tightening. The realization struck you hard, the truth you had avoided for so long staring back at you. You had been scared too. Scared of the vulnerability, of admitting how much she meant to you, of risking it all and losing her in the end.

For the moment, your eyes finally met with hers, but neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy but not unbearable, filled with something fragile yet unspoken.

The tension in the room didn’t disappear, but something shifted. For the first time in what felt like forever, the truth was out in the open. And even though it hurt, even though it felt like your chest was being torn open, it was a start.

But words weren’t enough. Not tonight. Not when the air between you was still crackling with something raw and unspoken. Not when she stood there, her long black hair falling over her shoulders, her bangs slightly tousled, her slim frame trembling with the weight of her confession, her vulnerability laid bare.

Before your mind could think, your body moved.

In one impulsive motion, you closed the distance between you, your hands cupping her face as your lips crashed into hers. The kiss was sudden, reckless, and charged with all the emotions you’d been holding back. Her lips were soft, warm, and trembling against yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

But then your brain caught up, and you jolted away, your breath ragged, your heart pounding in your chest. “Minnie… I—” you stammered, trying to explain yourself, to apologize for the impulsiveness of it all.

But before you could finish, her lips found yours again, cutting off your words. This time, it was her who closed the gap, her kiss just as desperate, just as messy, as if she couldn’t bear to let you pull away. Her hands clutched at the front of your shirt, her fingers twisting into the fabric like she was afraid you’d vanish if she let go.

“Yunjae,” she whispered against your lips, her voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”

The plea was raw, unfiltered, and it shattered whatever restraint you had left. Her lips were soft but insistent, trembling with a vulnerability that mirrored your own. You could feel the dampness of her tears as they spilled over, mingling with the heat of your kiss. She kissed you back with a hunger that matched your own, her fingers tangling in your hair as if she was trying to anchor herself to you.

In one swift motion, you scooped her up into your arms, her body light and trembling against yours. Her arms instinctively wrapped around your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair as she clung to you, her breath hot against your skin. She felt fragile in your arms, her slim frame fitting perfectly against you, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart as you carried her toward the bedroom.

Her pink jacket and pants were still partially on, the fabric soft against your skin, but the black sleeveless crop top she wore underneath clung to her body, revealing the delicate curve of her waist and the faint outline of her ribcage. Her long black hair spilled over your arm, her bangs slightly messy from the intensity of the moment, and she looked up at you with wide, uncertain eyes.

You kissed her again as you walked, your lips brushing against hers in a slow, heated kiss that made her gasp. Her hands tightened around your neck, her nails digging into your skin as if she was afraid you’d let her go. But you didn’t. You held her closer, your arms tightening around her as you carried her into the bedroom.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows across the walls. You laid her down gently on the bed, her dark hair fanning out around her like a halo. She looked up at you, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her eyes wide and vulnerable as she reached for you, her hands trembling as they traced the lines of your chest, your stomach, your hips.

“Minnie if you want me to stop…” you asked for confirmation.

“Yunjae,” she whispered again, her voice breaking as she pulled you closer. “Please.”

You kissed her again while taking off her jacket, your lips trailing down her neck, her collarbone, her chest. She gasped, her hands clutching at your shoulders as you moved lower, your lips brushing against the edge of her crop top. Her breath hitched as you pulled her crop-top over her head, putting into full view her whole upper body, the well defined lines of her stomach, the delicate curve of her waist. Her ribcage was faintly visible as she arched into your touch.

You kissed her stomach, your lips brushed against her skin as your hands slid down to the waistband of her pants. She let out a soft moan, her hips lifting slightly as you undid the button and zipper, sliding the fabric down her legs. She kicked them off, leaving her in nothing but her black lace underwear, her body trembling under your gaze.

She was beautiful. Her long black hair fanned out around her like a halo, her bangs slightly tousled as she looked up at you with wide, uncertain eyes. Her ribcage was faintly visible as she took a shallow breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly. You could see the faint outline of her collarbone, the delicate curve of her waist, the way her body seemed to tremble with every touch.

Her hands slid down to your chest, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of your shirt as if she couldn’t get close enough to you. You helped her, shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor, your skin prickling under her touch. Her breath hitched as her palms flattened against your chest, her fingertips tracing the lines of your collarbone, your shoulders, your arms. Her touch was hesitant at first, almost shy, but there was a hunger in her eyes that made your breath catch.

But then her hands moved lower, her fingers brushing against the waistband of your pants. She hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing as she looked up at you, her dark eyes filled with a mix of nervousness and desire. “Can I…?” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she looked into your eyes, her dark gaze filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire.

You nodded, your breath catching as you reached for her hands, intertwining your fingers with hers as you guided her to the button of your pants. “Go ahead,” you murmured, your voice low and rough as you pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she undid the button and zipper of your pants, her fingers brushing against your skin as she pushed them down your legs. You kicked them off, leaving you with only your boxer. Her breath hitched as she took in the sight of you, her dark eyes wide with a mix of awe and desire.

Your lips met again, and this time, there was no hesitation. The kiss was deep, desperate, and full of all the things you couldn’t say. Her tongue clashed with yours, the heat between you building as she kissed you with a ferocity that left you breathless. You could feel her trembling against you, her hands clutching at your shoulders as if she was afraid you’d pull away.

But you didn’t. You kissed her back just as fiercely, your hands sliding down to her waist as you pulled her closer. Her body pressed against yours, her slim frame fitting perfectly against you, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart as she moved against you.

Her aggressive kissing pushed you back, and before you knew it, your back was against the headrest, her body on top of you as she straddled your lap. Her hands roamed over your chest, her touch frantic and desperate as if she was trying to anchor herself to you. Her breath hitched as your lips trailed down her neck, her collarbone, her chest, and she let out a soft moan that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hands slipped underneath her bra, your fingers brushing against the soft, warm skin of her chest. She gasped, her body arching into your touch as your palms cupped her breasts, your thumbs brushing over her nipples. They were already hard, sensitive to your touch, and she let out a soft whimper as you teased them, your fingers rolling and pinching gently.

But as your hands moved to the clasp of her bra, fumbling clumsily in your haste. Her hands reached behind her back, and with a practiced ease, she unhooked the bra herself, letting it fall away. Her breasts were now bare, her nipples hard and sensitive in the cool air of the room.

“Yunjae,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she clung to you. “Please.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your lips trailed down her neck, her collarbone, her chest, and you took one of her nipples into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. She gasped, her hands clutching at your hair as she arched into you, her body trembling with every touch.

Your lips returned to her neck, your hands tracing the curves of her hips, leading to her midriff. Your touch was deliberate, exploring every inch of her as if committing her to memory. Your hand moved downward, sliding over the smooth skin of her stomach until your fingers brushed against the fabric of her panties. She was already drenched, the wetness seeping through the thin material, and her entire body jolted as your finger made contact.

You rubbed her gently, the wet sounds filling the room as her hips instinctively rocked against your hand. Her crotch throbbed with every movement, her breath hitching as your fingers slid against the fabric, teasing her through the damp material.

“You’re so wet…” you murmured, your voice low and rough with desire.

Her eyes trembled, her lips parting as if she wanted to explain, to justify the way her body reacted to you. “Yunjae… I—” she began, her voice shaky and breathless.

But before she could finish, you slipped a finger inside her, and her words dissolved into a sharp, breathy moan. Her body tensed, her back arching as she instinctively pressed herself closer to you, her hands gripping your shoulders for support. She was warm and tight, her walls clenching around your finger as you moved slowly, giving her time to adjust.

“Yunjae…” she gasped again, her voice breaking as her hips rocked against your hand, seeking more of your touch. Her nails dug into your skin, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you added a second finger, stretching her gently.

Her moans grew louder, more desperate, her body trembling as you curled your fingers inside her, hitting a spot that made her cry out. Her thighs clenched around your hand, her hips moving in rhythm with your fingers as she chased the pleasure building inside her. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, her nails digging into your shoulders as she clung to you, her body taut with tension.

“Yunjae… I’m—” she gasped, her voice breaking as her body began to shake. Her walls clenched around your fingers, her hips stuttering as the pleasure overwhelmed her. Her back arched, her head tilting back as a sharp, breathy cry escaped her lips. Her entire body tensed, then shuddered as she came, her release washing over her in waves.

Her strength gave out almost immediately, her body slumping against yours as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. Her breath was hot and ragged against your skin, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. Her hands, which had been gripping your shoulders so tightly, now rested limply against your back, her fingers trembling as she clung to you.

“Yunjae…” she whispered, her voice soft and hoarse, her lips brushing against your skin. Her body was still trembling, her legs shaky as she tried to steady herself. She felt small and fragile in your arms, her vulnerability laid bare in the aftermath of her release.

But as she shifted slightly, trying to catch her breath, she became acutely aware of the hardness pressing against her through the thin fabric of your boxers. Her crotch, still clad in her damp panties, was now positioned directly over your cock, the tip of it protruding past the garter of your boxers. The sensation made her gasp softly, her eyes widening as she realized just how much you wanted her.

She looked up at you, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and nervousness. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, she bit her lower lip, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the waistband of your boxers. Her movements were hesitant, her fingers fumbling as she tried to pull them down, her inexperience evident in the way she hesitated.

“Minnie…” you murmured, your voice gentle as you reached for her hands, stopping her. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she interrupted, her voice soft but firm. Her eyes met yours, and there was a determination in them that surprised you. “It’s my turn now. Let me… let me make you feel good, Yunjae.”

You nodded, letting go of her hands and giving her the space to continue. She took a deep breath, her fingers trembling as she finally managed to pull your boxers down, freeing your hardened length. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the sight of you, her breath hitching as she reached out, her touch tentative as her fingers brushed against you.

“Is… is this okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked up at you, her dark eyes filled with uncertainty.

“More than okay,” you assured her, your voice rough with desire but gentle, encouraging her.

She nodded, her fingers wrapping around you hesitantly, her grip loose at first as she began to stroke you. Her movements were clumsy, her touch unsure, but the sensation of her hand on you was enough to make your breath hitch. She watched your face carefully, her eyes searching for any sign of discomfort or pleasure, her cheeks flushing as she realized just how much her touch was affecting you.

“Like this?” she asked, her voice trembling as she tightened her grip slightly, her hand moving a little faster.

“Yeah,” you groaned, your hips bucking instinctively as her fingers brushed over the sensitive tip. “Just like that, Minnie.”

Encouraged by your response, she continued, her movements growing more confident as she found a rhythm that made you groan. But then she hesitated again, her eyes flickering down to your cock before she looked up at you, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Can I…?” she began, her voice trailing off as she gestured toward her mouth.

You nodded, your breath catching as she leaned down, her lips brushing against the tip of your cock before she took you into her mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, her warm, wet tongue swirling around you as she began to move her head. Her movements were slow and tentative, her inexperience evident in the way she hesitated, but the sheer fact that she was trying, that she wanted to please you, made it all the more intense.

“Minnie…” you gasped, your hands tangling in her hair as she took you deeper, her tongue pressing against the underside of your cock as she sucked. The wet sounds of her mouth on you filled the room, her moans vibrating against your skin as she worked to bring you pleasure.

But she wasn’t done. She pulled back slightly, her lips still wrapped around you as she looked up at you, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and determination. She took a deep breath, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked you deeper, her tongue swirling around you as she moved her head. The sensation was overwhelming, her warm, wet mouth enveloping you as she worked to bring you pleasure.

“Minnie…” you groaned, your hands tightening in her hair as she took you deeper, her tongue pressing against the underside of your cock as she sucked. The wet sounds of her mouth on you filled the room, her moans vibrating against your skin as she worked to bring you pleasure.

Her free hand reached up, her fingers intertwining with yours as she looked up at you, her eyes dark with desire. She didn’t need to say anything—her actions spoke volumes, her determination to make you feel good evident in every movement. Her lips tightened around you, her tongue flicking against the sensitive spot just below the tip, and you felt yourself nearing the edge.

“Minnie… I’m close,” you warned, your voice strained as your hands tightened in her hair. “You should… stop…”

But she didn’t. Instead, she looked up at you, her dark eyes glinting with determination as she took you deeper, her lips tightening around you as she sucked harder. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive tip, her movements growing more confident as she focused on bringing you over the edge. The sensation was overwhelming, her warm, wet mouth enveloping you as she worked to bring you pleasure.

“Minnie, I—” you tried again, your voice breaking as your hips bucked instinctively, but she didn’t pull away. Her hands gripped your thighs, her nails digging into your skin as she held you in place, her mouth working tirelessly to push you closer to the edge.

And then it happened. With a low groan, you came, your release spilling into her mouth as she continued to suck, her movements slowing but not stopping. Her eyes fluttered shut, her cheeks hollowing as she swallowed, her throat working to take everything you gave her. The sight of her like this—her lips wrapped around you, her face flushed, her mouth full of you—was almost too much to bear.

When she finally pulled away, her lips were glistening, a faint trace of cum lingering at the corner of her mouth. She looked up at you, her dark eyes wide and dazed, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she tried to catch her breath. Her tongue darted out, licking her lips clean before she swallowed again, her cheeks flushing as she realized what she’d just done.

“Minnie…” you murmured, your voice rough with emotion as you reached for her, pulling her into your arms. She came willingly, her body collapsing against yours as you laid back against the pillows, her head resting on your chest. Her long black hair fanned out around her, her bangs slightly tousled as she looked up at you, her eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and vulnerability.

“Did I… do okay?” she asked, her voice soft and hesitant as she traced circles on your chest with her fingertips.

“More than okay,” you assured her, your voice gentle as you pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You were amazing, Minnie.”

She let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing against yours as she nestled closer, her head resting in the crook of your neck. Her breath was warm against your skin, her body still trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. You held her close, your hands stroking her back as you tried to steady your own breathing.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The room was quiet, the only sounds the soft rustle of the sheets as you shifted slightly, pulling the blanket over the two of you. Minnie’s body was warm against yours, her slim frame fitting perfectly against you as she lay on top of you, her legs tangled with yours. Her hair, messy and slightly damp, brushed against your neck, and you could feel her steady breath on your skin.

“Minnie…” you whispered, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

She hummed in response, her head resting against your chest, fingers lightly tracing patterns on your arm.

“When did it start?” you asked, your words hanging in the quiet air between you.

She tilted her head, looking up at you with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean?”

“When did it start?” you repeated, your voice a little firmer now. “Was it after the marriage?”

Her brows furrowed briefly before the realization dawned on her. Understanding your question, she shook her head.

“No?” you asked, a hint of surprise in your tone. “Then… was it during our wedding day? During our first night?”

Minnie hesitated, her gaze flickering away for a moment.

“Or when we exchanged vows?” you pressed, your curiosity tinged with something deeper, almost like hope.

Her lips parted as if to respond, but instead, she shook her head again. “Earlier,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Earlier?” you echoed, confusion lacing your tone. “When were we convincing our parents?”

This time, she didn’t answer right away. Instead, a faint smile appeared on her lips, the kind of smile you hadn’t seen from her in a long time—soft, genuine, and tinged with something unspoken.

That smile was enough.

Your heart clenched, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. “Minnie…” you said, your voice cracking slightly.

She didn’t say anything else, just nestled closer against you, her fingers still idly tracing shapes on your arm. Her smile lingered, and though the silence between you stretched, it was no longer heavy with doubt or regret.

But then, something shifted. The air between you grew warmer, heavier, as if her smile had unlocked something deep inside you. You couldn’t help it—you leaned in, your lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss. She froze for a moment, her breath hitching, but then she kissed you back, her lips trembling against yours.

The kiss was slow at first, almost hesitant, but it didn’t take long for the tension to build again. Her hands slid up to your chest. Your hands found her waist, your fingers digging into her skin as you deepened the kiss, your tongues clashing in a heated dance.

“Yunjae…” she gasped, her voice breaking as she pulled away slightly, her breath hot against your lips. Her eyes were dark with desire, her cheeks flushed as she looked up at you, her lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss.

You didn’t respond with words. Instead, you kissed her again, your hands sliding down to her hips as you pulled her closer. Her body pressed against yours, her slim frame fitting perfectly against you, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart as she moved against you.

But then she surprised you. With a sudden shift of her weight, she pushed you back against the pillows, her hands pressing against your chest as she straddled your lap. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, her bangs slightly tousled as she looked down at you, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of determination and desire.

Then she shifted, her hips rolling against yours in a slow, deliberate motion that made your breath catch. The damp fabric of her panties rubbed against your hardened length, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Her movements were slow at first, almost teasing, but it didn’t take long for her to find a rhythm that made your hips buck instinctively.

“Yunjae…” she gasped, her voice breaking as she rocked against you, her body trembling with every movement. Her breath was hot against your skin, her moans soft and desperate as she moved with you, her body trembling with every thrust.

You couldn’t take your eyes off her. The way her body moved, the way her hips rolled against yours, the way her breath hitched with every movement—it was mesmerizing. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, her bangs slightly tousled as she looked down at you, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of determination and desire.

“Minnie…” you groaned, your hands tightening on her hips as you guided her movements, your fingers digging into her skin as she rocked against you. The damp fabric of her panties rubbed against your hardened length, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

Her moans grew louder, more unrestrained, as she moved against you, her body trembling with every thrust. Her hands clutched at your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as she clung to you, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she chased the pleasure building inside her.

“Ah!” Minnie suddenly moaned, her body tensing as her climax neared. With her release just within reach, you pushed her hips down and thrust your hips up, the sudden additional stimulation catching her off guard. Her body, unprepared for the intensity, collapsed, her arms barely catching herself just before her face met yours. Now, you were close enough to exchange breaths, your lips inches apart as you both gasped for air.

“Yunjae…” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she looked into your eyes, her dark gaze filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire.

“You’re so wet…” you murmured, your voice low and teasing as your fingers toyed with her pussy, the damp fabric of her panties pushed to the side. Her breath hitched as your fingers brushed against her sensitive folds, her body trembling with every touch.

“Do you want it?” you asked, your tone playful but laced with desire as you looked up at her, your fingers still teasing her.

She didn’t respond with words, just nodded, her cheeks flushing as she looked down at you, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

“But if I don’t loosen you up beforehand…” you began, your words trailing off as you shifted your position, with her still kneeling with you underneath, you positioning your face between her open legs. Her breath hitched as you leaned in, your tongue brushing against her sensitive folds, the taste of her overwhelming as you began to lick her.

“Yunjae…” she gasped, her hands tangling in your hair as she arched into your touch, her body trembling with every movement. Her moans grew louder, more unrestrained, as you continued to pleasure her, your tongue swirling around her sensitive bud as you worked to bring her to the edge.

You started slow, your tongue tracing delicate patterns over her folds, savoring the taste of her as she writhed above you. Her thighs clenched around your head, her hips rocking instinctively against your mouth as you teased her, your tongue flicking against her clit in slow, deliberate strokes. Her breath hitched, her moans growing louder as you increased the pressure, your tongue pressing harder against her sensitive bud.

“Ah… Yunjae…” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she clutched at your hair, her nails digging into your scalp as she tried to steady herself. Her body was trembling, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you continued to pleasure her, your tongue working tirelessly to bring her closer to the edge.

But then you decided to take it further. Your tongue dipped lower, tracing the entrance of her pussy before pressing inside. She gasped, her body jerking slightly as your tongue entered her, the sensation new and overwhelming. Her hands tightened in your hair, her nails digging into your scalp as she tried to steady herself.

“Yunjae…” she moaned, her voice trembling with need as she rocked against your mouth, her hips moving in rhythm with your tongue. Her breath hitched as you continued to explore her, your tongue moving in and out of her in slow, deliberate strokes. The sensation was overwhelming, her body trembling with every movement as you worked to bring her closer to the edge.

You could feel her thighs shaking, her body tensing as she neared her climax. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, as you focused on her clit, your tongue swirling around it in tight, rapid circles while still pressing inside her. Her hands tightened in your hair, her hips bucking against your mouth as she tried to chase the pleasure building inside her.

“Yunjae… I’m… I’m going to…” she gasped, her voice breaking as her body tensed, her thighs clamping around your head as she reached her peak. Her back arched, her head tilting back as a sharp, breathy cry escaped her lips. Her entire body shuddered as she came, her release washing over her in waves.

You didn’t stop, your tongue continuing to lap at her as she trembled above you, her body still twitching with the aftershocks of her climax. Her hands, which had been gripping your hair so tightly, now rested limply against your head, her fingers trembling as she tried to catch her breath.

“Yunjae… I can’t…” she whispered, her voice soft and hoarse as she slumped against you, her body collapsing onto the bed beside you. Her breath was hot and ragged against your skin, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to steady herself. Her long black hair was damp with sweat, her bangs sticking to her forehead as she looked up at you with wide, dazed eyes.

“Okay,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm as you pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I can’t wait anymore either.”

You shifted slightly, your hands moving to her hips as you gently rolled her onto her back. She looked up at you, her dark eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and nervousness, her breath hitching as you leaned down to kiss her again. Her lips were soft and warm against yours, her hands tangling in your hair as she kissed you back with a hunger that matched your own.

But then you pulled away, your hands moving to the waistband of her panties. She froze for a moment, her breath catching as she realized what you were about to do. Her cheeks flushed, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for yours, her fingers intertwining with yours as she looked up at you.

“Yunjae…” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she looked into your eyes, her dark gaze filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire.

“It’s okay,” you assured her, your voice gentle as you pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ve got you.”

She nodded, her hands falling away as you gently slid her panties down her legs, the damp fabric clinging to her skin as you pulled them off. She was completely bare now, her body trembling with anticipation as you settled between her legs, your hands resting on her hips as you looked down at her.

“Minnie…” you murmured, your voice rough with desire as you leaned down to kiss her again, your lips brushing against hers in a slow, heated kiss that made her gasp. Her hands clutched at your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as she clung to you, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you positioned yourself at her entrance.

“Are you ready?” you asked, your voice soft but firm as you looked down at her, your eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation.

She nodded, her hands tightening on your shoulders as she looked up at you, her dark eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and desire. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she arched into you, her body trembling with every movement.

All you needed was her confirmation. With a slow, deliberate motion, you pushed inside her, her body tensing slightly as she adjusted to the sensation. For you, the feeling was indescribable. The warmth and tightness of her around you was overwhelming, a sensation that sent a shiver down your spine. Her body was soft and yielding, yet so incredibly tight, as if she was made to fit you perfectly. The way her walls clenched around you, hot and wet, made your breath hitch, your hips instinctively rocking against hers.

“Yunjae…” she gasped, her voice breaking as she arched into you, her body trembling with every thrust. Her breath was hot against your skin, her moans soft and desperate as she moved with you, her body trembling with every movement.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, your voice low and concerned as you stilled inside her, giving her a moment to adjust. Your hands moved to her hips, your thumbs brushing against her skin in a soothing motion.

She shook her head, her hands clutching at your shoulders as she looked up at you, her dark eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire. “No… it’s just… a lot,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she arched into you, her body trembling with every movement.

You nodded, your hands moving to her hips as you gently guided her movements, your fingers digging into her skin as she rocked against you. “Tell me if it’s too much,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm as you looked down at her, your eyes searching hers for any sign of discomfort.

She nodded, her hands tightening on your shoulders as she looked up at you, her dark eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and desire. “I will,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she arched into you, her body trembling with every movement.

As you continued to move, the initial tension in her body began to ease. The pressure gave way to a deeper, more pleasurable sensation, a warmth that spread through your lower abdomen and made your toes curl. Her hands clutched at your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as she clung to you, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she chased the pleasure building inside her.

You couldn’t take your eyes off her. The way her body moved, the way her hips rocked against yours, the way her breath hitched with every movement—it was mesmerizing. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, her bangs slightly tousled as she looked up at you, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of determination and desire.

But then you noticed something—a few strands of her hair had fallen onto her face, sticking to her damp skin. Without thinking, you reached up, your fingers gently brushing the hair away from her face. She looked up at you, her dark eyes wide and vulnerable as you caressed her cheek, your thumb brushing against her lips.

“Yunjae…” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she looked into your eyes, her dark gaze filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire.

You didn’t respond with words. Instead, you leaned down to kiss her again, your lips brushing against hers in a slow, heated kiss that made her gasp. Her hands clutched at your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as she clung to you, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you continued to move, your hips rocking against hers in a slow, steady rhythm.

But then you pulled away, your fingers brushing against her lips again. This time, you pressed them gently against her mouth, her breath hitching as she realized what you were about to do. Her lips parted slightly, her tongue darting out to lick your fingers as you pushed them into her mouth, her warm, wet tongue swirling around them as she sucked.

“Yunjae…” she moaned, her voice trembling with need as she looked up at you, her dark eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire. Her hands clutched at your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as she clung to you, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you continued to move, your hips rocking against hers in a slow, steady rhythm.

As you thrust deeper, the outline of your length became faintly visible against her lower abdomen, the subtle bulge a testament to how deeply you were inside her. Her slim frame made it impossible to ignore—every movement, every push and pull, was mirrored in the way her stomach tensed and relaxed. It was a sight that made your breath catch, a visual reminder of how intimately connected you were.

“Do you feel that?” you murmured, your voice low and rough as you pressed a kiss to her neck, your hands gripping her hips to guide her movements. “How deep I am?”

She nodded, her breath hitching as she arched into you, her body trembling with every thrust. “I… I can feel all of you,” she gasped, her voice breaking as she clung to you, her nails digging into your skin. “It’s… so much…”

“You’re taking me so well,” you whispered, your voice filled with awe as you watched her body respond to yours. Her hips rocked against you, her legs hugging your hips locking you in, her movements growing more desperate as she chased the pleasure building inside her.

“Yunjae… I’m… I’m going to…” she gasped, her voice breaking as her body tensed, her thighs clamping around your hips as she reached her peak. Her back arched, her head tilting back as a sharp, breathy cry escaped her lips. Her entire body shuddered as she came, her release washing over her in waves.

You didn’t stop, your hips continuing to move against hers as she trembled beneath you, her body still twitching with the aftershocks of her climax. Her hands, which had been gripping your shoulders so tightly, now rested limply against your back, her fingers trembling as she tried to catch her breath. Her legs, which had locked around you moments ago, now lay idle on the bed, completely spent and devoid of strength.

Feeling her body go slack beneath you, you slowed your movements, your own breath ragged as you leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. “You did so well, Minnie,” you murmured, your voice rough but tender. As you pulled back, your cock slipped out of her, the sensation making her gasp softly, her body twitching in response.

You took a moment to admire her—Minnie, laid bare and utterly spent on the bed. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her long black hair fanned out around her like a dark halo, damp with sweat and clinging to her skin. Her bangs stuck to her forehead, and her lips were slightly parted as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes were half-lidded, her gaze unfocused as she looked up at you, her expression a mix of exhaustion and contentment.

She was beautiful, completely undone by the intensity of what had just happened. But even as she lay there, utterly spent, the fire inside you still burned. The sight of her like this—her body trembling, her skin glistening with sweat, her lips swollen from your kisses—only stoked the flames further.

“Minnie…” you groaned, your voice rough with need as you looked down at her, your eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. You knew she was exhausted, but the primal part of you couldn’t let go just yet.

She nodded, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of anticipation and desire, even through her exhaustion. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. Then, softer, almost shyly, she added, “I want you to… inside me.”

Her words snapped something primal within you, a deep, instinctive need to claim her, to make her yours in every way possible. You gave her only a second to rest before you lifted her legs, draping them over your shoulders. Before she could react, you were already pushing inside her again, your length sliding deep into her warmth.

“Hmmphh…” she gasped, her exhausted body arching slightly as she let out a muffled sound of pleasure. Her eyes fluttered open, wide with surprise at the new depth she hadn’t experienced before.

“Yunjae!!” she cried out, though her voice was weaker now, softened by exhaustion. Her hands gripped the sheets tightly, her body trembling as she tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation.

You started slow, each thrust deliberate and deep, the weight of your body pressing her into the mattress. With every movement, you could feel her walls clenching around you, her body responding even as she lay there, spent and overstimulated. Her moans grew louder, more unrestrained, as you gradually increased your pace.

“Yunjae–... you’re… so deep…” she managed to gasp between breaths, her voice breaking as her body writhed beneath you. Her hands moved frantically, unsure of where to grip—one moment clutching your arm, the next clawing at the sheets, then flying up to cover her mouth as her cries grew louder, more desperate.

You caught both her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand, while the other moved to her mouth, your fingers slipping past her lips to muffle her screams. She sucked on them instinctively, her tongue swirling around your digits as her muffled moans vibrated against your skin.

The sight of her like this—completely at your mercy, her body trembling with overstimulation, her eyes glazed with pleasure—was almost too much to bear. You could feel your release building, the pressure in your lower abdomen growing with every thrust.

“Minnie… I’m… I’m close…” you groaned, your voice strained as you fought to hold on just a little longer.

“Yunjae… I’m… also… Inside me… please…” she screamed, her voice unhinged by pleasure, her body arching into yours as she begged for your release.

You couldn’t hold back any longer. With a few more deep, punishing thrusts, you felt yourself reaching the edge. Your body tensed, and with a low, guttural groan, you came, your release spilling inside her in hot, unending waves. The sensation was overwhelming, a warmth that spread through your lower abdomen and made your toes curl. Her body tightened around you, her walls clenching as if trying to draw every last drop from you.

Your release was so intense that it pushed your cock out slightly, the excess spilling out of her and pooling on her stomach. Her pussy dripped with your cum, her body spasming uncontrollably as she rode out the waves of her own climax. Her cries were unrestrained now, her voice breaking as she clung to you, her nails digging into your skin.

When it was finally over, the room fell silent except for the sound of your ragged breaths. Minnie lay beneath you, her body still trembling, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to steady herself. Her eyes were half-lidded, her gaze unfocused as she looked up at you, her lips parted as she gasped for air.

“Yunjae…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, soft and hoarse. “You… came inside…” Her tone was a stark contrast to the unrestrained screams from moments ago, now filled with a quiet awe, as if she was asking for confirmation that it had really happened.

You nodded, your own breath still uneven as you leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I did,” you murmured, your voice gentle but firm. “I couldn’t hold back… not with you.”

She smiled faintly, her fingers brushing against the pool of cum on her stomach, her touch almost reverent. “It’s… warm,” she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. Her smile widened slightly, a soft, contented expression that made your chest ache with something deeper than desire.

You leaned down to kiss her again, this time on the lips. It was slow and tender, a stark contrast to the raw intensity of what had just happened. Her hands moved to your face, her fingers trembling as they traced the lines of your jaw, your cheeks, as if she was memorizing every detail.

“Yunjae…” she whispered against your lips, her voice trembling with emotion. “I… I love you. I’ve loved you for so long… I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Her confession hit you like a punch to the chest, your breath catching in your throat. You pulled back slightly, your eyes searching hers, looking for any hint of doubt. But all you saw was sincerity, her dark eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Minnie…” you murmured, your voice rough with emotion. “I love you too. I’ve always loved you. Even when I didn’t know how to say it… even when I thought I couldn’t have you. You’ve always been it for me.”

Her lips trembled as she smiled, a single tear slipping down her cheek. You wiped it away with your thumb, your touch gentle as you leaned down to kiss her again. This time, it was slow and sweet, a kiss that spoke of all the things you hadn’t been able to say before.

When you finally pulled away, she nestled into your chest, her body still trembling slightly as she tried to catch her breath. You reached for the tissues on the nightstand, cleaning yourself off before gently wiping her stomach and the mess between her legs. She watched you quietly, her eyes soft and filled with affection as you took care of her.

When you were done, you collapsed beside her, pulling her into your arms. She fit perfectly against you, her head resting on your chest as her fingers traced idle patterns on your skin. Her breathing slowly evened out, her body relaxing as exhaustion finally claimed her.

“Yunjae…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she drifted off to sleep. “Don’t let go…”

“I won’t,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m here, Minnie. I’m not going anywhere.”

As her breathing steadied and she fell into a deep sleep, you held her close, your own exhaustion finally catching up to you. But before you let yourself drift off, you whispered one last thing, knowing she couldn’t hear it but needing to say it anyway.

“I love you, Minnie. Always.”

—

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, its golden rays falling across your face. You stirred, your body slowly waking. As you opened your eyes, the events of the night before rushed back to you in vivid detail. Minnie’s words, her touch, her warmth—it all felt so real, so vivid.

But the bed was cold beside you.

Frowning, you turned to the empty space where she had been. The sheets were smooth, the faintest hint of her scent lingering on the pillow. You sat up, running a hand through your messy hair, your heart sinking slightly.

“Minnie?” you called out, your voice hoarse.

There was no response.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood, wincing slightly as you stretched. For a moment, you expected a hangover to hit you, but you felt fine—physically, at least. Emotionally, though, a heaviness settled over you as you searched the room for any sign of her.

She wasn’t in the bathroom.

She wasn’t in the living room, either.

Disappointment crept in as you moved through the apartment, checking every corner, every room. By the time you circled back to the kitchen, your chest felt hollow. After everything that had happened last night—her confession, her vulnerability, her promise—she was gone.

And then you saw it.

On the table was a neatly prepared breakfast. A plate of rice, eggs, and a bowl of soup sat perfectly arranged, steam still rising faintly as if she’d just finished making it. Beside the plate was a small folded note with your name scrawled in her neat handwriting.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you picked it up, unfolding the paper.

—

Yunjae,

I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you woke up. I really didn’t want to leave, especially after last night, but I had to. All I could do was make you breakfast before I left. Please eat it while it’s still warm.

And one more thing—don’t eat dinner alone. Promise me, okay? I’ll be back, but it’ll be late. Wait for me.

-Minnie

—

After reading the letter, you sat back in your chair, the note still clutched in your hand. For a moment, you simply stared at it, rereading her words over and over again. The tone of her writing—it struck you. It wasn’t just thoughtful; it was so unmistakably her.

It reminded you of how she used to be, back when things between the two of you were simpler. Back before the distance, the hesitations, the quiet battles you both fought without words.

You could almost hear her voice, playful and teasing yet tinged with warmth, as she used to remind you to take care of yourself. Back then, her care wasn’t forced or overshadowed by guilt—it was natural, effortless. And this note, with its soft insistence that you not eat dinner alone, was a glimpse of that.

Your chest tightened with a mixture of longing and hope.

Is this what healing feels like? you wondered.

You thought back to the way she’d smiled last night—the first real smile you’d seen from her in what felt like ages. The kind of smile that made your chest ache with memories of days when her laughter filled the air around you, unguarded and free.

Back then, there were no walls between you, no shadows of doubt hanging over every exchange. And now… now, for the first time in years, it felt like you were finding your way back to that place. To her. To what you had been before.

As you set the note down and picked up the chopsticks, a small smile tugged at your lips. She was right here with you, even when she wasn’t physically present. And maybe, just maybe, she was starting to believe in this again—in you, in both of you.

The breakfast she’d made tasted like home, each bite carrying with it a sense of care you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed.

As you finished your meal, you glanced at the note again, her words echoing in your mind.

“Don’t eat dinner alone. Wait for me.”

You leaned back in your chair, exhaling deeply. The apartment felt a little less empty now, the hope lingering in the air making everything seem lighter.

For the first time in a long while, it felt like the cracks in your relationship were starting to mend. Like you were no longer walking on separate paths but finding your way back to one another.

And for the first time, you felt certain that when she came home tonight, you’d be ready to meet her with the same hope and love she was slowly, carefully showing you again.

#minnie smut #gidle smut #male reader smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #smut #qwilorg

625 notes · View notes