#in my little bubble where everything goes how i want it to

[rafesbabygirlx]

Time Loop

Masterlist

Rafe x Reader

Summary: Rafe finds himself caught in a time loop, reliving the same disastrous 2 days when everything goes wrong. He must figure out how to break the cycle by changing his choices, leading to new insights into his relationship, motives, and a self-realization.

A/N: might be a little delusional from school but I rewatched Happy Death Day on Halloween and had this idea written down. Read this over 100x and I’m pretty sure I follow through. Enjoy :)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: angst, smut at the end

Rafe’s relationship with you was a storm of highs and lows. When other couples argued over trivial things—what to eat, misplaced items, or being late—your conflicts with Rafe were on a different level. They revolved around coke, cheating, and his relentless need to please his father.

Rafe’s habit of disappearing for “errands” tied to his dad’s business, his unapologetic flirting at parties, and the lines of cocaine that constantly blurred his reality had worn you down. Three years together, and it had only gotten worse. His betrayals were countless, yet somehow, you both stayed. Amid the chaos, there was a twisted comfort that kept you to each other.

Loop 1. It was a Saturday, and Rafe was at Kelce’s party. He hadn’t responded to your texts or calls all day. Sitting in his usual spot, hunched over the coffee table with white powder all over it, he looked oblivious to everything except the high. You arrived reluctantly, dragged by your friends who insisted you shouldn’t stay home alone, overthinking. You told yourself you’d stay hidden, avoid Rafe, and just get through the night.

You led your friends to the kitchen and grabbed drinks, steering them out to the pool where Rafe rarely went. Hours passed, with each of you taking turns fetching refills. When your turn came, the kitchen was crowded, so you slipped into the living room instead. And that’s when it happened. Your eyes locked with Rafe’s across the room. A blonde was straddling his lap, pressing kisses down his neck while he smirked at you, a cold and taunting expression. Something in you snapped. Without thinking, you threw the remains of your drink at them and stormed out before he could react.

The next morning, Rafe woke up in one of Kelce’s guest rooms, head pounding and eyes squinting against the sunlight. He reached for his phone, seeing a flurry of messages from you.

You 1:46 AM – FUCK YOU, RAFE CAMERON. You never deserved me.

You 1:55 AM – I hope you snort yourself to death, you asshole. Enjoy your coke while you can.

You 2:04 AM – YOU WILL NEVER SEE ME AGAIN. I HATE YOU.

You 2:06 AM – WE’RE THROUGH. ROT IN HELL.

He groaned, a mix of regret and anger simmering beneath his hangover. He needed to talk to you. You always went to brunch at the club on Sundays, so he threw on some borrowed clothes and headed there.

There you were, sitting on the patio with your friends, your hair catching in the breeze, looking radiant and untouchable. It hit him how much he had messed up. He approached cautiously. “Hey, can we talk? Please?”

You didn’t acknowledge him, eyes focused ahead. “Please, Y/N. I need to talk to you.” You turned to him sharply. “We have NOTHING to talk about. You’re not my problem anymore, Rafe.” His jaw clenched, ego a bit strained, anger bubbling up. He rolled his eyes. “You think I wanted to be tied down with you? Always breathing down my neck? That’s probably why I cheated. I needed a break from you.” He didn’t mean it.

The lie hung between you like a knife. Your voice was icy. “You’re such a piece of shit,” you said, louder than you intended. “What was that, angel? Say it again,” he goaded. You stood up, refusing to back down despite his height. “You’re a piece of shit, Rafe Cameron. A slut, a drug addict, and a failure who will never be good enough for your father.”

The entire patio fell silent. The slap came without warning, sharp and loud, leaving him stunned. You threw down cash for the bill and walked out, your friends hurrying after you. Humiliated and seething, Rafe’s pride took over. As he left, he spotted your car. Without a second thought, he grabbed a rock and smashed the windshield, then slashed three of the tires. Adrenaline pumping, he sped off to Barry’s place and spent the rest of the day numbing himself with beer and more lines of coke. By nightfall, he was a mess, barely coherent, when he picked up his phone and typed:

Rafe 7:32 PM – baby pls I mis u dont do thiss to mee, ur al I want

Rafe 7:38 PM – bby

Rafe 7:39 PM – bbay

Rafe 7:40 PM – pls I ned you answr me

Finally, your response came, slicing through his fog.

You 7:50 PM – You should’ve thought of that before you were a complete shit boyfriend. Before you chose drugs over me, your dad over me, other girls over me.

You 7:53 PM – AND BEFORE YOU DESTROYED MY CAR, ASSHOLE.

Rafe’s rage erupted, and he hurled his phone, shattering it on the floor. “SHIT!” Barry jolted awake. “Damn, country club. What’s your problem?” He throws his crushed phone back at him. “Nothing,” Rafe muttered, tossing cash down before leaving. He considered going to your house but decided to sleep it off and try again tomorrow.

Loop 2. The next day, he woke up at noon, head heavy, stomach in knots. His phone, perfectly intact, rested on the nightstand. The date read Saturday. Confused, he checked his messages—none of what he remembered existed. Before he could think too hard, Ward barged in, ordering him to get dressed and join him on errands.

The day felt like a warped replay. He ignored your incoming texts, but told Kelce he’d be at the party, and numbly followed the script. That night, as he sat at Kelce’s, a girl climbed onto his lap, and he froze. Between the drugs, and the shock of realizing what’s happening he just sits there. She straddles his lap, grinding down onto him and kisses his neck. He looks up and sees you and gets instant deja vu. You appeared at the door, eyes wide with betrayal. Just like before, you stormed out after throwing your drink. He threw the girl off of him and tried to reach you but you slipped through the crowd before he could. He couldn’t believe what was happening. This is exactly what happened in his dream. At least he thinks it was a dream.

With the drugs and what just happened he feels like he’s loosing his mind. He heads upstairs and passes out on the guest bed. Not surprising when he wakes up to see you sent the same text messages again. He doesn’t know what to do. But he repeats the same process. Finding you at the club, trying to talk to you, you embarrassing and leaving him standing there. He walks out to the parking to see your car but he doesn’t touch it this time. Panic crept into his mind, a distressing realization that something was wrong. At Barry’s later, he tested his theory. “Hey, did I come here already?” he asked. Barry squinted. “Yesterday to pick up some for the party, you good man?” Rafe’s stomach dropped. The night had repeated itself. He left, pacing in his room later, mind racing. Glancing at his phone, he stomped it underfoot, shattering it again.

Loop 3. Rafe woke up with a migraine, instinctively grabbing his phone. The screen glowed brightly, not a single scratch, displaying the day: Saturday. His heart sank as a familiar wave of confusion washed over him. Everything was playing out exactly as it had before. The knock on the door was immediate, and soon enough, his father burst in, barking orders. His phone buzzed throughout the day incessantly with your texts, followed by Kelce’s message about the party and a request to score some coke. Rafe felt a nauseating sense of deja vu again, an unsettling lightheadedness clinging to him throughout the day.

At Barry’s place, Rafe pocketed a bag of coke, glancing nervously at the dealer, who was lounging with a cigarette. Barry was the only person who might not think he was entirely out of his mind. “I gotta ask you something,” Rafe blurted out. Barry raised an eyebrow, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “If it’s a favor, I’m not doing it.” Rafe sat down across from him, trying to still the tremor in his hands. “No, it’s not a favor. Do you ever feel like you’re stuck in a loop? Like, the same thing playing over and over again?”

Barry’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talking about, Country Club?” Rafe rubbed his face, feeling his pulse race. “I’m serious. It’s like I’ve lived the same two days over and over for nearly a week now. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s real. I can’t shake it.” Barry snorted, a half-laugh slipping through. “Man, lay off the coke for a while. It’s messing with your head.”

At Kelce’s party, Rafe felt the buzz of anticipation crackling around him. He sat in his usual spot, beer in hand, taking only a small line of coke, half-dreading and half-expecting what came next. Just as he suspected, the blonde girl approached, eyes glinting with interest. His heart raced; it was happening again. He let her sit beside him, testing the reality of the loop. Just then, he spotted you entering the room, and the recognition in your eyes shifted to anger. You threw your drink, and before you could walk away, Rafe caught your arm.

“Baby, please,” he said, voice trembling with urgency. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.” Your eyes flashed with hurt and rage. “Oh, now it’s important? Not when I called or texted you all day? Not when you’re so high you fuck anything that breaths and forget I exist? Now, suddenly, it’s important?”

Rafe pulled you into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him as the noise of the party dulled. “I know this sounds crazy, but I’m not high. I knew everything that was going to happen today. I had to make sure I wasn’t still dreaming. Please trust me. I love you.” Your expression hardened, eyes glistening. “You don’t love me, Rafe. You’re not making any sense. You sound insane. I’m leaving. We’re done. Officially, done.”

He reached for you, desperation turning his voice raw. But you pushed him away, tears streaming as you walked out. Rafe stood frozen, guilt and helplessness clawing at him. For the first time, he left the party nearly sober, trudging up to Kelce’s guest room. He threw himself face-first onto the bed,

The next morning, Rafe bolted upright and glanced at his phone. Sunday. Again. He quickly dressed and drove straight to the club, determination hardening his features. Before you could brush him off, he dropped to his knees by your table, ignoring the looks of your friends and the other members

“Please,” he begged. “I know I look crazy, but you have to hear me out.” You stood up and motioned for him to follow you out to the golf course, away from prying eyes.

“About what I said last night,” Rafe continued, breathless, “it wasn’t just rambling. The party—it’s happened three times. I’m living the same 2 days over and over. I get up, do stuff for my dad, get to the party, you find me, we break up, I come find you hear, there’s no resolve, I go to bed Sunday night and when I wake up it’s Saturday again. I don’t know why, but I’m losing you each time, and I can’t take it anymore.”

You crossed your arms, a wall of hurt and skepticism. “You expect me to believe that? After three years of lies and betrayal, you think I’ll buy into some theory about time loops all of the sudden? No, Rafe. I’ve had enough.”

He reached for your shoulders, his voice breaking while he smacks his cheek. “Look at me. I’m sober, I’m awake, and I’m telling you the truth. Something isn’t right, and I can’t let you walk away.”

Your eyes softened for a moment, but you shook your head, stepping back. “I can’t do this.” And with that, you turned and left him standing on the empty fairway, the early morning light casting long shadows. Rafe stood there, piecing together the pattern. The loop was about you. It was punishment, a reckoning for the way he’d taken you for granted. Each version of the day confirmed that losing you was the universe’s way of making him face the consequences. But if he had this chance, he’d use it. That night, he skipped Barry’s and stayed in his room, scribbling notes and plans, willing himself to break the cycle.

Loop 4. Rafe woke up early, it’s Saturday… again. His heart thumping as he texted you before you could reach out first. He asked if you’d meet him at the dock, the place where you’d had your first date. When you agreed, a rare glimmer of hope sparked inside him. When you arrived, he stood and hugged you tightly, pressing kisses to your forehead. You pulled back, a puzzled smile playing on your lips. “What’s all this for?”

“I just love you,” Rafe said, voice steadier than it had been in ‘days’. “Please, sit. I need to talk to you.” You settled on the blanket, accepting your favorite snack he handed you. “So, talk.” He took a breath, the weight of three years and three repeated days pressing down on him. “I know this will sound insane, but hear me out. I’ve been in this loop—like, I’ve woken up on the same Saturday, again and again. Every day, the same mistakes. Ignoring you, getting high, letting someone else come between us, and you leaving. When I go to bed Sunday night, k wake up and it’s Saturday again.It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt, and I can’t lose you again. I need you to believe me. I don’t want anything to be the same. I want to change for you. Maybe it’s just a dream. But it feels so real, I can’t shake it. I can’t lose you.”

You studied his face, eyes searching for any hint of deceit. Then, cautiously, you placed your palm on his forehead, half-joking. “You’re right. You do sound crazy. But you’ve never promised to change before. That’s… something.” A sad, hopeful smile tugged at Rafe’s lips. “I mean it. I’ll do anything. I’ll go to rehab, give up the coke, anything. I just want you.”

Your lips curved into a small smile, and you leaned in, kissing him gently. “Come on,” you said, pulling him up by the hand. “My parents aren’t home. Let’s go somewhere we can really talk.”

Back at your house, you sat on your bed, facing him. “You know how much I love you, Rafe. But how much do you really love me? These past three years have been exhausting. I’m tired of giving and getting nothing in return.” “I love you more than anything. I’m sorry it took something this insane to make me realize how much I need you. I want to make up for all the time I wasted. I promise.”

You brushed your thumb along his cheek, turning his face to yours. “Then prove it. Promise me again.” You leaned in, and he whispered between kisses, “I… promise.” He lays you down on the bed, resting in between your legs. You grip his shirt trying to get it off. He sits up pulling it off and you mimic him pulling off yours. He reaches your lips again and you both fumble with each other’s pants. When you finally get each other’s clothes off, he lifts you up into the center of the bed. Kissing his way back down to lean in front of you. Leaving kisses on your inner thighs making his way to your clit. Just the simple kiss has your back arching. Rafe is never this gentle with you. It’s usually quick fucks or rough. Never soft or intimate so you make sure to take in everything. He takes his time. Making sure he tastes every bit of you. He keeps going and your back lifts off the more and more until a wave of relief washes over you. Rafe doesn’t stop until you’re back on the bed and your grip of his hair loosens a bit. He cleans up what’s left and makes his way back to you, leaving behind a trail of kisses.

He stops for a second just to stare at you. Wondering how he got so lucky to have someone as beautiful as you and how he just managed to fuck it up and take advantage of all that beauty and love. You stare back at him wondering if he’s serious, but you’re so in love with him that if he is you’ll be there every step of the way. You grab the back of his head and pull him back in to continue kissing him. Your other hand reaches in between you to line him up and you nudge him to push in by wrapping your legs around his waist. He slowly enters you, savoring each second. He moves instantly but the thrusts are different. They’re strategic and careful. You let out moans and he moves to the crook of your neck kissing it softly. He keeps these movements the entire time. You both climax at the same time and he goes to move but you hold him against you.

“You swear promise?” You ask while rubbing his back. “I promise, every bit of it. The both of you lay in bed for the rest of the day and when nightfall comes you fall asleep in each other’s arms. When Rafe is woken up by the light peaking in from the morning sunrise. He checks his phone instantly it’s Sunday. He panics a little but then he notices the weight on him. It’s you, lying on his chest. He lets out a sigh of relief realizing the cycle was broken, he’s back in reality. He pulls you in close giving you a kiss on the top of the head.

[elysianymph]

fuck whatever most of the fandom thinks. make up your own canon you cowards

[dollaches]

— my wait is you

♡ closeted!abby anderson x fem!reader

synopsis: after deciding to stop seeing abby completely due to her inability to commit, she drops everything to make it up to you

a/n: from a req… im so sorry this sucks so bad & i did not proofread

warnings: closeted abby duh, owen gets his own tw, internalized homophobia i guess (?), mentions of crying, improper communication, secret relationships, kissing, sorta established relationship, whiney and needy abby, pussydrunk abs lol, dry humping (THE CROWD GOES WILD), face sitting, abby is a messy eater and a MUNCH, make up sex, mentions of strap usage, cursing, a little bit of angst in the beginning if you squint and turn your head away a little bit, fluff, cliffhanger idk if i’ll make a pt2, and pet names

wc: 3.8k

The bustle from all the people in the dining hall made it impossible to think and in some ways that was comforting, yet everyone's presence was a bit too overwhelming at the moment. 

You dropped a half finished sandwich into the trash, having no appetite after what you endured today. As you walk back towards your assigned room, the memories of Abby’s betrayal come flooding back. 

 It didn’t take long for you to realize that she wanted to live a double life, one in which she was with Owen and another where she was with you.But you were not going to give her the pleasure of having both, not when it’s fucking with your head as badly as it is.

Today you had been assigned patrol with Abby, who you just so happened to be avoiding like the plague as of late. It was easier to avoid her, as you knew if she were to look at you with her kind eyes, you would give in to her every request. 

Fate seemed to be against you, as you had the daunting task of facing her for almost an entire day. You brushed off every attempt she made to speak with you, your gun held tightly in your hands as the two of you left the base. 

The gentle “hey” that fell from her lips was only met with silence, your eyes focused on the path ahead. She knew you were pissed— knew she fucked up badly enough to ruin everything the two of you had built together. But she just didn’t know how to apologize to you for being unable to be openly out with you. 

Tension between the two of you became so thick during your journey that you could’ve cut it with a knife, but you refused to budge. 

Even when she tried to soothe you a bit by offering to stop by the old desolate book store the two of you had found, she was met with silence before you simply shook your head and looked away from her. 

It was eating away at every inch of her being, her hands twitching at her sides as she yearns to get her hands on you. She misses being close enough to breathe in your sweet scent, misses the way your soft hands felt against her skin— she missed everything. 

To you, she was simply being a pain and rubbing it in your face that she had chosen to be with Owen rather than you. So during the entire trip, you remained silent and didn’t allow Abby any comfort for once. She eventually went quiet, her jaw clenched tightly and her eyes narrowing at your form as the two of you got back to base. 

And even now as you walked towards the door to your room, you felt anger bubbling within your tummy due to the fall out between the two of you. Just as your hand touched the cool metal of the knob, you felt two warm hands rest on your waist. 

Your brows furrowed out of confusion, although you knew who was touching you just by the weight of their hands. 

Spinning to face her, you push Abby’s hands away and let a deep frown settle onto your lips. You offer her no words, simply taking her in as she stands before you. 

She looks tired, frustration etched into her features as she gazes down at you.

“What the fuck was all that today?” she questions, her anger showing despite the quietness of her voice. She’s keeping it down as per usual, never wanting anyone to even notice the two of you interacting beyond work duties.

“You haven’t let me speak to you for weeks. I miss you, okay? I get that you’re upset with me but don’t give me the silent treatment, just tell me I fucked up and let’s move on” she pleads, her words so rushed from nerves that you barely comprehend what she has said. 

Her words only make you want to scream at her, to make a huge scene just to show her how much she has hurt you. But you push it down, keeping your voice just as low as hers is.

“I’m not going to ‘move on’ from you dating some asshole that you don’t even like. I’m tired of you using me to satisfy your own needs so find some other girl who is willing to be your dirty little secret” you mutter bitterly, glancing down to notice the way her hands were flexing as she opened them only to clench them into fists once more. 

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Abby. And don’t even think about knocking on my door when he can’t give you what you want.” you seethe, turning your back on her and entering your room without giving her time to completely process your words before you slam the door in her face. 

Abby is left wide eyed, her plush lips parted as she is left alone with your harsh words. She goes to knock on your door out of instinct but pauses, her brows furrowing as irritation and desperation make an ugly mix within her. She lowers her hand, now moving with a determined stride towards Owen’s room. 

♡

With little to console you after the altercation, you had made the prompt decision to bury your face into your pillow and let your thoughts fade away as you fell into a dreamless sleep. It was comfortable, being so detached from everything around you even if it was only for a little while. 

However, any solace you had found was ripped from your hands as a heavy knock sounds on the door. A low groan sounds throughout your small room as you blindly move your hand onto the side table to try and find the lamp. 

Once the light switches on, another loud knock can be heard, the door shaking from the force. The second knock makes you rush towards the door, unsure of what to expect but believing it to be urgent. 

That is until you swing open the door, the dimly lit hallway showing you a very broken down Abby. Her braid has become messy and loose, her eyes red rimmed and glassy. She looks like a kicked puppy, so lost and scared. 

“I broke up with him, okay? It’s done, I swear” she blurts out breathlessly, not even giving you the chance to speak. The information takes a while to set in, the cogs in your mind slowly turning as you realize what she had said. 

It was over. She was yours and only yours now. 

It’s hard to speak as you try to process everything, leaving Abby with an aching silence. Tears begin to roll down her rosy cheeks, a pitiful whine emitting from her. 

“I know you’re probably still mad but please let me stay. You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I just— I can’t be alone right now” she whispers weakly, taking a step closer to you so that she is standing inside your room. 

She sounds absolutely pathetic and you can’t help but relish in this moment, her pain making up for all you had gone through these last few weeks. You let her come inside, simply shutting your door as a sign that she can stay for the night. 

But you’re toying with her, knowing exactly where all these pent up emotions are coming from. You don’t let her get too close, as you want to see just what she wants from you. 

“Thank you, thank you” she breathes, relieved to at least be welcome in your room once more. Her shaky hand pushes back her hair to soothe herself, the ache in her body worsening as she realizes you’re wearing the smallest pair of pajama shorts she has ever seen. 

It’s enough to leave her feeling dizzy, her eyes flickering back up to meet your own. “You look absolutely perfect” she mumbles, no tears to be found as she feels countless weeks worth of energy beginning to boil over. 

Her words make you feel all warm inside, as you know she is all yours now. You need her just as much as she needs you but you are unwilling to confess that just yet. 

So you give her a soft hum of acknowledgment at her words, simply turning away and mindlessly rearranging your bed, purposely bending over so your shorts ride up just enough for her to see your panties. 

Abby is falling apart in your hands, her eyes lingering on your ass far too long. She had spent these last few weeks picturing you just like this, her fingers buried in her cunt as she got off to the thought of you. 

But now here you were in all your glory, and she wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass. With a few quick steps, she is behind you, your back pressing against her chest as she pins you down against the bed with ease. 

“What the fuck” you huff, your brows furrowing as you try to squirm out of her grasp but to no avail. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry, can’t you see that?” she whispers, her arms being wrapped around you so tight, scared that you would leave her at any moment. 

Seconds after she speaks, her hips begin rocking against you, desperately humping your ass like a woman who had been deprived of something holy for so long. The warmth of her body combined with her little pleas makes you let out a soft moan, breathy and barely there but just enough to let Abby know that you are enjoying this. 

“Jesus, Abs. M’ not going anywhere, calm down” you mutter, your words broken up by how harshly she is rubbing up against you, her movements displaying just how needy she is. Her hold on you doesn’t budge, simply focusing on your scent and how warm you feel against her. 

She shakes her head feverishly, her breath warm against the back of your neck. “Need to touch you, missed you so much” she breathes frantically, as if she were in some sort of frenzy that could only be soothed by touching you. 

The way she rubs up against you has your core aching, desperate for relief that only Abby could give you. “Missed you too, fuck” you huff, trying to be the one in power but failing miserably. Even in her desperate state, Abby finds a way to keep you dumb for her, your mind only filled with thoughts of her giving you the relief you have been craving for so long. 

Your confession blows up Abby’s ego a massive amount, her nerves dissipating since she knew the misery she felt without you was shared between the two of you. 

“Yeah, baby? You have a funny way of showing it. You’ve been such a little brat, avoiding me and not letting me touch you at all” she grunts, the rocking of her hips faltering as her mind is flooded with a need to be closely connected with you. 

“M’ sorry” you huff, still a little frustrated by her previous actions which meant you were unable to be empathetic towards her. Abby pays you no mind as she stops grinding against you completely, helping you get back into an upright position by pulling you by your arms. 

“Can you get on the bed for me, sweet girl?” she asks hopefully, unsure if you would even agree to what she wanted to do. Much to her surprise, you nod your head slightly and crawl onto your bed so you can make yourself comfortable. 

Your chest heaves with anticipation, watching Abby’s every move to try and figure out what she wanted to do. After taking off her boots and setting them off to the side, she gets on the bed, her large frame being rather intimidating as she spreads your legs open so that she can settle between them. 

She’s laying on her tummy, nuzzling her cheek against your inner thigh affectionately as she keeps her gaze focused on you. “Can I taste you, angel? Been thinking about your cunt so much, need to see her again” she mutters, sounding borderline delirious just from the idea of being able to lap at you like a woman starved. 

“Mmph, just a little” you say after a moment of thinking, wanting to remind her that being able to touch you like this was a privilege that only you could give her. A pleased grin appears on her lips as you give her permission, nodding her head eagerly. 

“Thank you, thank you” she breathes out, pressing a few open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs that leave you aching for more. “Gonna make you feel so good, need to make you come” she hums as she backs up, hooking her fingers under your little shorts along with your panties in one swift movement. 

You feel so exposed to her, finding the feeling only adds to your arousal. Abby takes a moment to consider her options before she decides on exactly how she wants to do this. 

She uses her thumb to rub soothing circles on your hips, her expression warm and comforting. “Need you to sit on my face, doll. I wanna feel all of you, want to taste all of you. Is that okay?” she questions in a pleading manner, as if she would burst into tears if you were to deny her. 

The request makes your heartbeat a little faster, knowing that Abby can barely contain herself whenever she is eating you out. But after weeks of going without her attention, you’re just as needy as she is. 

“It’s okay with me, just wanna feel good” you whine, unable to mask your excitement now that she was soothing you completely. She takes notice of how eager you are and decides to make it her personal mission to make you come until she’s decided you’ve had enough. 

“Sweet thing, so eager” she coos, giving your hip a gentle pat as a sign for you to start switching positions. You are quick to follow her command, moving out of the way so she can lay down flat on her back. She waits for you to move, glancing at you only to find that you’ve yanked off your t-shirt, the sight of you alone pulling a porn worthy moan from her. 

“That’s a good girl” she praises, so pleased that you were completely bare while she remained clothed, as it only reinforced the control she felt she had over you. Shakily, you begin to move up the bed so that you can get into the proper placement. 

With your hands holding onto the wall in front of you for stability, you manage to straddle Abby’s head so that she can stare directly up at your heat. “So fucking pretty” she practically pants as she sees you in all your glory, her strong hands grasping your hips with a bruising grip. 

It’s not as if you minded, as whenever she decided to show off her strength you found yourself completely enamored. “You sure this is okay, Abs? Don’t wanna hurt you…” you trail off slightly, not wanting her to be unable to breathe or anything like that. 

“Baby, if I die with you sitting on my face, I will die doing what I love” she quips in a playful manner, wanting to help you relax. Her words make you smile in the slightest bit, the tension that coursed through your body now melting away. 

“Shut up” you mutter playfully, her teasing remark making your tummy flutter. “As you wish” she states quickly, not giving any explanation before she pulls your hips down onto her face. 

It’s a bit of a shock to feel her gentle licks against your pussy, a low gasp being pulled from you as warmth spreads throughout your lower half. She’s being messy on purpose, now licking long stripes up and down your cunt, pausing for a moment to messily kisses your clit before moving her tongue lower. 

The sensation is enough to make you tremble, your hands weakly grasping at the wall as you try to stay upright. “Jus’ like that” you moan out, your folds so slick that Abby can’t stop herself from moaning due to the complete mess you’re making on her. 

Your statement entices her to work harder, now tonguing as your slit to test the waters. The position is almost too perfect, her nose bumping against your clit while she obscenely slurps up all your arousal. 

With the pleasure being doubled, you find yourself unable to keep your eyes open any longer, now squeezing them shut as you let ecstasy course through your being. Broken up moans leave your lips as you practically hump her face, needing her nose to rub up against your clit just a little more. 

There are no complaints from Abby, as it let her know that you were feeling good. She dips her tongue into your entrance, fucking her tongue so deep into you that you swear it’s almost better than when she fucks you open on her thick fingers. 

“Jesus Christ, s’ too much” you say after a string of pitiful mewls, your hips stuttering against her as the pleasure begins to reach its peak. She couldn’t care less, as she needed her fix of you or she might actually lose her mind. 

Your scent consumes her whole being, you taste heavy on her tongue. It’s enough to make her ravenous, now using her firm grip on your hips to guide your movements so that you don’t have to do it by yourself. Her tongue continues to stretch you open, fucking you at a rhythmic pace that keeps pace with the way she is rocking your hips against her. 

In a complete daze, you grope your tits, trying to pretend it’s her hands instead just to maximize the goodness of the feeling. And it truly works, as all the pleasure combines to make something completely blinding and overpowering. 

It’s everything you’ve been craving since you began avoiding her and now it’s all yours. 

“Abs, gonna come, you gotta slow down” you whine, your lungs burning from the amount of effort it takes to breathe in properly. Your pleas don’t discourage her at all, as all she chooses to focus on is that you are about to get off just from her tongue. 

So she keeps her firm pace, burying her face into your cunt as if it were a sanctuary that only belonged to her. It’s all too much, the way you can feel her spit coating your folds and you can only imagine how soaked the lower half of her face must be. 

You can only whine as she refuses to yield and so you find yourself rubbing teasing circles against your hardened buds, trying to match her timing. And within a moment or two, you let out an incomprehensible string of words, moaning so loud that you knew others on the base will be talking about the two of you tomorrow.

You couldn’t care less, too focused on the way the band that had tightened in your tummy had finally snapped and left you feeling euphoric. Your cunt clenches around Abby’s tongue as you come, a low whine leaving her as she feels your gummy walls tighten up even further. 

You ride it out, practically bouncing against her since it was hard to move properly even with her help. But it all becomes overwhelming so quickly that you raise your hips the best you can, Abby’s hold on you fading away since she knew you needed time to recover. 

After carefully changing your position, you lay down beside her, your breathing still being labored and you can’t help but smile at how much Abby is panting alongside you. The stickiness between your thighs doesn’t bother you much, much more focused on the girl who was lying beside you. 

You turn onto your side, facing her enough so that you can give her a sweet kiss. You can still taste yourself on hee tongue, shivers coursing through your form as she eagerly kisses you back. It’s lazy and messy, both of you being so tired out. So you let her tongue glide against yours, moaning against her lips before she gently bites your lower lip. 

She pulls away after she gets a small whine from you, a grin spreading onto her features. She is completely different from how she came into your room earlier, her eyes dazed and her whole being practically radiating warmth. You were glad to see the change, as after all that the two of you had been through, you both deserved some relief. 

“You’re a mess” you state playfully, noticing that her nose and mouth were completely coated with your slick. “Good” she quips, swiping her thumb against her chin to gather up some of your leftover juices and pushing the digit into her mouth to suck it clean. 

The sight leaves you feeling flustered yet strangely proud that she finds the taste of you to be so pleasing. You press your naked body against her, needing some comfort after everything that went down today. 

She is quick to wrap you up in her arms, not even caring if you make a mess on her clothes. “You did so good, baby. You’re all mine” she hums soothingly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head as you hide your face against her chest. 

You don’t reply, simply wanting to let her words sink in and make you feel safe once more. Abby would never force you to speak, especially when she can tell you’re so sensitive and tired. It’s as if the two of you are having your first time together once more, but this time had much more being for both of you. 

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you as she mindlessly traces shapes along your back to keep you at ease. But she just can’t help herself, not when she has been aching to make you come multiple times. 

“You still got my strap, angel? I think you can take a little more, hm?” she questions, her voice low and soft. The suggestion has your eyes going wide, always amazed by her stamina. You were more than eager to comply, raising your head so you can nod quickly. 

“Gonna fuck you nice and stupid so you can sleep well” she states calmly, as if it were the most natural statement ever. With the way it rolls off her tongue with ease, you can almost convince yourself that it is normal. 

A lazy grin crosses your features as you take in the idea of her burying her thick strap into your cunt. “S’ still in the closet— if you wanna…” you whisper timidly, suddenly feeling shy under her persistent gaze. 

“Of course I want to, sweet girl. Tonight is all about you, I swear” she states smoothly, giving you a quick kiss as she begins to get up to search for exactly what she needs. 

Although you’re in for a long night, you couldn’t be more excited to be sharing it with her. 

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase 3 (2)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: you’re pushed to the edge after eunsu’s stunt, and it makes jungkook realize that he’s no longer secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad.

alternatively, jungkook goes back to square one with you, but especially with hwayoung.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ angst, fluff, the double-edged desire of wanting more n Being More despite having almost everything, hwayoung being the universe, mentions of eunsu breaking in into jk's hotel room, jus eunsu being a weirdo in general, 478 couple goes old school YIPPEEEE, yoongi as his own warning, eventual redemption ]

notes: heh... i did say it wud get a little worse before everything gets better!!! :O

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Hwayoung keeps staring at Jungkook’s empty spot on the dining table.

“Where’s appa?” 

She looks like a spitting image of Jungkook with the way her brows are furrowed and her bottom lip pouted, clearly confused to why her carbon copy still isn’t here. Hwayoung’s heard your explanation a dozen of times already, yet she asks you again — not because she forgot already, but because she’s in disbelief.

“He’s working, Young-ie,” you smile tightly, cutting up her pancakes once again to redirect her into eating instead of asking where Jungkook is. She eats, even if you don’t slice the pancakes the way Jungkook does (he cuts them up to look like a window with four, almost-perfectly divided slices) and in the same breath, you try not to pull out your phone to ask if he’s already had dinner.

Loving Hwayoung is extremely easy, even if you get choked up from time to time trying to internalize the fact that she’s yours and Jungkook’s. There’s a continuous beep in your chest that rivals the volume of what pedestrian crossings sound like when they turn green; it’s been ringing ever since you found out you were pregnant with Hwayoung and came to the realization that you owe everything (if the world happens to not be enough) to her.

Hwayoung may be a curious, bubbly child, but the extent of her questioning only stops when you tell her that Jungkook’s working. She doesn’t prod any further than that, settling for a generic answer you’d expand on if only you could find the heart to. 

Hwayoung doesn’t ask why you hold her a lot more closely than you’d usually do when you’re asleep or why her oversized sleep shirts lately belong to you and not Jungkook, not because she doesn’t care about the sudden absence of her dad, but because the abundance of you almost makes her forget about her new routine.

Almost.

She goes down from her seat (just like how Jungkook taught her with both hands and extreme care) wordlessly, strolling off with a determined gait, only to return with your cat in her arms like it’s a normal occurrence at seven in the morning.

“What are you doing with Miso, Young-ie?” you question playfully, getting your answer soon enough when she carries Miso up to where Jungkook’s plate would be.

Your daughter seems pleased about the situation altogether, nevermind the fact that the too-chunky-for-her-age cat she’s been spoiling with treats is at the head of the table instead of Jungkook.

Hwayoung’s young. She’s young enough to the point that you can withhold entire truths from her without having to clarify your words. Even more, she’s young to the point that you can’t even tell if she’ll remember this point in her childhood for the years to come.

You can’t tell if Hwayoung will even remember the chunk of time wherein Jungkook’s nowhere to be found and she’s upset about it, nor if she’ll even recall in the future about the way you’re looking at her with so much fondness and desperation at this exact moment — but nevertheless, you want Hwayoung to be young in the same way you want to be honest.

Neither you and Jungkook can withhold anything from her if it means making her happy; even if it means she won’t do something as futile as making a cat a placeholder for her dad.

“Do you miss him, baby?” you hum, feeling for your phone in your pocket as you rub the ridges of its case over and over again while deep in thought. You can’t even tell why you asked that because you know the answer already, regardless of your daughter beaming and nodding her head fervently.

“Do you wanna go on a trip?” you whisper to her ear as if it’s a secret, immediately getting her giddy. You comb through her hair with your fingers as she basically bounces on her seat, already clapping her hands because she knows the word and everything fun that it entailed. “Let’s surprise your appa, hm?”

It’ll just be a last-minute airline ticket purchase, which would happen to be Hwayoung’s first-ever plane ride that Jungkook won’t be there to see because the whole trip’s purpose is to get to him. It’ll just be a rest day or two that you have to coordinate and apologize for over and over again for the potential inconveniences you’ll create. It’ll just be a blip in Hwayoung’s memory soon enough, one you’re uncertain if she’ll even remember, but you figure that it’ll be worth it.

It’ll be worth it because it’s Jungkook, you think as you cram yours and Hwayoung’s belongings into a single backpack with no other luggage in tow.

It’ll be worth it because it’s Jungkook, you rethink while contemplating about how it’s rare for you to be impulsive, but at your fate, with respect to Jungkook, you completely surrender.

It’ll be worth it because it’s Jungkook, you mutter under your breath as you hastily plan with Jimin on the phone about your temporary quick leave, if he can look after Miso, and how to get to the airport without being noticed and most importantly, without Hwayoung being pictured at all.

Your daughter doesn’t know any better about how you and Jungkook go to extreme lengths to protect her, or how the straps of your backpack are digging into your shoulders, or how you’re nervous because it’s her first plane ride and you don’t know how she’ll take it, or how you’re ready to bolt immediately with her in your arms because she’s only yours and Jungkook’s and no one else’s.

You’re not the world-famous and critically acclaimed actress in this long-haul flight; you’re a mom to Hwayoung trying to get her to yawn repeatedly so her ears wouldn’t get clogged, you’re a mom hanging her head down in apology when it’s the fourth flight attendant to approach you asking for a picture, and you’re a mom who just happens to be extremely desperate and humble to beg said flight attendants to help you deplane first so nobody else would look at your or your daughter.

For a split second, or even for as long as you hold Hwayoung and beyond that, you forget the trophies and plaques attached to your name.

You no longer want to be the best when in your arms, Hwayoung’s jet-lagged and fighting through said fatigue, because you’ve convinced not only her but yourself, that it’ll all be worth it because it’s Jungkook.

( ♡ ) 

Hwayoung sleeps in your arms the whole time.

You figure that she’s out cold because you’re wearing Jungkook’s hoodie, knowing better than anyone about how your baby gets completely placated whenever she’s held. It’s heartwarming to see her this way even in such odd circumstances, the fist that’s curled up on your shirt reminding you when things used to be a little more simple.

The stress that’s been accumulating inside your temples threaten to burst and you fear that you’ll be set off by the most miniscule thing while you’re on your way to Jungkook. You’re sleepless and you’re bubbling inside with annoyance and it takes an absurd amount of energy from you to try and contain yourself.

Coordinating with Jimin through the phone makes your nostils flare, even if he’s trying his best to be helpful. Seeing people on the street in large groups, without even knowing the reason why, makes your jaw clench. Even the driver who keeps looking at you on the rearview mirror in concern makes you want to rip your hair out.

You’re frustrated and angry, even if you try convince yourself that Jungkook is worth all the fuss.

“Young-ie,” you whisper, shaking her awake gently. Your free hand’s already gripping your backpack even if you’re still minutes away; if only you had the remaining patience (maybe even optimism) to look at yourself, you’ll see the irony of you being the equivalent of overeager dads you hate on airplanes that immediately stand upon landing, even when the connecting tube to the terminal hasn’t been attached yet. “Wake up, baby. We’re getting closer.”

Everything feels a little heavy. The weight of your backpack is not the problem, and neither is Hwayoung who’s glued to you by the hip.

You have the terrifying idea in the back of your head, locked and loaded for anyone (read: Jungkook) to see if they take the additional second to ask you, that you’ll have to suffer all over again; that you’ll have to establish an ultimatum with a time limit of sorts, just so you can nullify the vacancy in you by pushing Jungkook away again.

Even now, a part of you wonders about Sora. 

She’s no longer a part of your husband’s life, for good this time, yet she occupies your mind every once in a while as if she’s a bad meal on a bad day you have to stomach over and over again. You want to vomit her out completely and rid yourself of the taste of being inferior to who came before you, and yet, she lingers like a stray who knows its home.

You wonder if she’s happy with her life and how it turned out, even if Jungkook’s no longer in it despite being each other’s first for everything. You wonder if she ever thinks about Jungkook whenever it’s April 23 or when she walks past tent bars; if she’s ever married now and has a family like you and her first love do.

You wonder about Sora from time to time because if Jungkook really loved her, you fear that a little bit of it would always linger.

In the same way that you had really loved a multitude of things growing up, little bits of them would always linger even if you’ve sworn off them. 

Your old obsession with tiny bottles of perfume you could only buy from boutiques (and never from malls) resurfaces whenever you visit your parents and magically, they always have a box filled up with your childhood shirts they’ve spared for Hwayoung to wear, imbued with a scent you can place to a memory, but not replicate.

The old fixation you had on patchwork blankets lingers whenever you head to the stockroom to store a PR package you could justify keeping for future purposes, only to see the unopened stacks of shirts you’ve gotten from numerous workshops, countries, and tapings as mementos throughout the years. They sit there in the dust, waiting patiently for you to take notice, but you avert your eyes as to not start a project you can’t bring yourself to finish.

The old liking you had towards the color orange stains on your fingers whenever you peel tangerines for Hwayoung, training a keen eye on her as she holds it for herself while slicing the portions you have at hand for her to eat safely. 

You wonder about Sora and if she ever holds the regret of letting go of Jungkook for someone like you.

You wonder if Jungkook’s love for her, although dissolved and voided already, lingers through the existence of Eunsu — someone who’s much, much different than you, just like Sora was.

Love is not supposed to feel heavy and you stand by it, because holding Hwayoung while carrying the backpack that’s meant to sustain the both of you in a foreign country, just because you don’t want any excess baggage as you surprise Jungkook out of nowhere, has never felt lighter in your heart.

Love is not supposed to feel heavy, even if you wonder why the door to Jungkook’s hotel room is open by itself without needing a key.

Love is not supposed to feel heavy, even if you meet several pairs of eyes that either locks or avoids your own, all for a multitude of reasons. 

“Jungkook,” you whisper, pupils shaking as you instinctively turn Hwayoung’s head away from the sight before you. “What’s going on?”

Your husband, who’s evidently rattled for more reasons than one and is dressed in his pajamas, stares at you head-on with his bottom lip trembling.

His staff members, some of which you recognize, avoid your gaze whilst one of them continues talking on the phone with an apologetic bow.

The members of hotel security, both of which are a little lost in what’s happening because they’ve only been suddenly called to the room of a husband to a celebrity they didn’t catch the name of in a hurry, gasp in realization when they recognize you instantly.

Eunsu, who’s clad in only a silky nightgown that leaves almost nothing to the imagination as she’s restrained to a chair by hotel security, scoffs at your presence.

.

.

.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear,” Jungkook repeatedly mumbles to you, even if he only catches a shadow of you lingering somewhere as you bounce in between places trying to sort everything out.

“I-I didn’t do anything. We didn’t do anything. I never wanted things to go like this in the first place,” he says to you over and over again, even if you’re on the phone with Jimin to get ahead of damage control if the news ever breaks out.

“I’d never.. I-I’d never cheat on you, Y/N. I’ll never hurt you,” your husband whispers to you like a broken record, running his thumb over your knuckles to try and get you to calm down as if you’ve lost your cool for the past two hours.

The whole thing’s been foiled.

Neither you, Jungkook, or even the staff can even think about the short film’s immediate downfall without it even being released yet because from the get-go, it had already been a raging wildfire with Eunsu in it.

There’s no talk about the film. 

There’s no talk about the hours, efforts, and even money wasted on it because all that you could think about— all that everyone who knew of the situation just now could think about, is how Eunsu broke into Jungkook’s hotel room to seduce him.

There's no talk about the unspoken rule in between the staff to tiptoe around their executive producer’s wife, and most especially his daughter. It’s no secret that the two of you dropped in unannounced (they recall Jungkook being miserable so they knew there was no way he could predict his family was about to surprise him), and yet with the way they give you space and nothing but humility, you’d mistaken them for devoted fans.

There’s only hushed, cordial conversations between everyone to keeps things up to date and under wraps. There’s only gratitude, pity, and assurance thrown your way about how they never liked Eunsu in the first place and how you were such a good, filial wife and mother to clean up the mess attached to Jungkook’s name whilst keeping Hwayoung close to you the entire time.

“She’s detained by the police now. I’ve already called up lawyers back at home. We’re pressing charges,” you say, finally standing in one place. “I have Jimin drafting everything in place in case word gets out.

You’ve been going back and forth trying to sort everything and everyone from the police, to the hotel security, and even Jungkook’s staff — even if you’ve already vacated Jungkook’s room for the three of you to be transferred to a different room in a different hotel entirely, not once have you set Hwayoung down.

You haven’t even let him hold her once since landing here.

Jungkook’s shaking in anger, or atleast whatever it is that drowns him whole even if his head is only submerged in between his knees as he tries to breathe. He’s spoken perfectly and concisely when he was asked for his statement. He’s spoken without a hitch when asked for his honesty, and he hasn’t even faltered once when he asked for the footage of Eunsu seducing a receptionist to break into his room to support his rock-solid testimony.

Jungkook even cussed Eunsu without stuttering as she basically confesses her crime (while cursing you, who didn’t want to look at her, in the process) whilst being dragged away by the cops.

Ironically, the only people who had everything going on for him whom he momentarily tried to distance himself from, are the first people to his rescue. The bed in the new room is more than massive, yet you don’t even lay Hwayoung on it; she’s still in your arms that are screaming to give out, and the backpack you’ve packed for the both of you is yet to be opened, sitting on the opposite side of the room to Jungkook’s massive luggage.

Everything has failed and collapsed around Jungkook, yet it’s you who cleans up after him.

.

.

.

You only let Hwayoung sleep on the bed once you needed to book separate flight tickets.

“It’s not a problem for me. We’ll be less recognizable together,” Jungkook answers quickly when you question him if he could take Hwayoung back while you get on a later flight.

He’s snappy this way, trying to ignore the raging pounding on his head that you’re upset with him; that perhaps not only were you disgusted with him, but you were also exhausted of him entirely.

There’s a massive knot in Jungkook’s throat that doesn’t want to untangle in the slightest. He feels like he’s about to choke on nothing because he rethinks that he has no right to feel tired; that he has no right to close his eyes for even a second because you haven’t slept for a day and even longer, and that he has no right to feel this low when he’s dragged you down even lower.

You only nod quietly at his answer, clicking on your phone without meeting his eyes as you blow money on last-minute flights without even flinching.

“You okay?” 

You ask softly, the bags under your eyes more evident under the warm lighting. You’re sitting on a chair at the corner of the room like you’re a complete stranger while Jungkook’s sitting on the edge of the bed like he’s only a familiar guest. 

It’s only Hwayoung in this room who’s acting as if she belongs here. 

Right now, it’s only your daughter serving as the common denominator that you have with Jungkook — with her asleep, your husband can’t even tell if he’s on the same ground with you. 

“Did she touch you anywhere?” you add, slouching on your knees. You’ve never laid back since you’ve gotten here, the fear that something bad would happen to you or anyone in your family if you took your eye off the ball for the slightest second overtaking you.

Even after you’ve cleaned up Jungkook’s mess, it’s you who tries to reach out; it’s you who tries to keep everything and everyone together, even if it’s by the thinnest thread that incessantly digs into the palm of your hands, even tighter than how your wedding ring could.

“No, no. She didn’t even get close. I just… I immediately yelled so the staff nearby heard,” Jungkook answers truthfully, shaking his head slowly in the process.

You say that it’s a relief nothing else happened, and reiterate that you and Jimin have all exits covered.

You say that you’re sorry that it happened to him, and reiterate that you’re pressing charges.

You say that you’re there in case he wants to talk about it more, and reiterate that he has to wake up early so he and Hwayoung could go on the first flight back home.

Jungkook feels extraordinarily guilty. He feels so much regret in his stomach that he wants to throw up because your contained frustration for him is unbearable to the point that it brings him to tears.

"Give it to me," he inhales sharply, shoulders trembling as he buries his face in his hands. "Just give it to me."

“What are you talking about?”

"Why won't you yell at me?!” Jungkook sobs painfully, his own hand slapping down on his mouth as he tries to keep his volume down so Hwayoung could keep sleeping. He feels as if he’s tethering over the edge the longer that you look at him stoically, his fingernails digging to his palms roughly to the point that he draws blood. ”Why won't you tell me I told you so? Why can't you tell me that I had it coming?"

Everything and everyone except you is falling apart around Jungkook, and it brings him to his knees.

“Do you want me to punish you? Is that it?” you ask, clenching your jaw until it aches. 

Jungkook looks miserable this way. He looks like a devastated sinner awaiting judgement from a god whom he once lost his faith to. He looks like your husband begging, not for forgiveness, but for something more painful for as long as you feel compensated for what he’s caused you.

“You want me where to hit you where it hurts, Jungkook?” you laugh dryly, making him raise his head up as he nods slowly yet definitively, the tears on his face not close to stopping.

You say nothing while Jungkook expects everything, your husband unable to decode what you say under your breath as you turn your back on him to go shower.

You get out of the bathroom eventually, finally seeing that he doesn’t have his forehead touching the carpet.

Instead, Jungkook’s passed out from crying and has himself curled up into a little ball on the same chair you’ve sat on just awhile ago, with your clean change of clothes pressed on the bed right next to your daughter.

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook looks for you in everybody but he finds you in no one.

He woke up far earlier than his alarm (not that he had been in a deep slumber anyway) and the perpetual ache all over his body reminds him of that, his eyes glazing over you as if it’s the last he’ll see of you for decades.

Hwayoung stirs awake at the same time that he does, and for a moment, Jungkook thinks that everything’s okay.

For a split second, he mistakes today as one of your workdays wherein he wakes up early to prepare you your breakfast and it just happens that Hwayoung wanted to be a joey to a first-time kangaroo mother. He mistakes your little family in this hotel room to be a perfect one, wherein his only biggest hurdle in life is to keep his daughter inside his do-it-yourself sling while trying not to overcook your fried rice.

Apparently, Jungkook mistakes everything and everyone to be in favor of you, of him, to the point that he had deliberately ignored your plea to work with Eunsu all this time ago, and that decision of his has majorly, if not completely, undone everything you tried to work on for your family.

He tries to find you in the elderly lady who looks at him in pity as Hwayoung cries while they’re in first class seats, the shallow breaths he tries to ground himself to (so he wouldn’t panic and text you in fear of bothering you) doing nothing in the long run.

Your husband tries to find you in the foreign flight attendant who despite not knowing him or whom he’s married to, offers to hold Hwayoung as she explained that she’s a mother and also has a toddler at home.

Jungkook tries to find you in the remnants of your perfume on his daughter’s shirt. Hwayoung’s already stopped crying after some time of being cradled by the flight attendant, and the sight of his daughter calming down because of a stranger (who is obviously better than him) makes him want to be ground to a fine powder for everyone to walk over.

He feels ashamed in a way that he can’t even put into words. Jungkook feels far too inadequate, far too undeserving, and far, far pathetic that he fears not even his constant apologies to you would ever be enough.

Jungkook feels ashamed even when you take the last flight home and you go through the door like nothing’s wrong between the two of you, simply because Hwayoung’s watching. He feels like a dog fetching you your house slippers automatically but he wants to be reduced to something more filial; something a little more loyal to the point that it’s pathetic.

Your husband is ashamed even when you’re not awake and he can’t see your eyes avoiding his whenever your daughter’s not around.

Jungkook holds you tighter in his sleep, going so far as to kneel by the side of your bed instead of reaching across you, so Hwayoung wouldn't be caught in the middle — even if she’s already been since the start.

( ♡ ) 

Outside of you and Jungkook, only Jimin and Yoongi know about what happened.

You have your pride holding you back from telling your parents because in the back of your mind, there still lies the instinct of wanting to protect Jungkook, your own family, from the family that raised you.

You have no one to confide to except for your manager, who’s technically obligated to know what’s been going on with you when you suddenly call him up to tell that you’re surprising Jungkook in the US, only for your next call to consist of you asking for his help in a terse manner– and your best friend, who’s the first person Jimin calls whenever you’re in need of serious assistance.

There’s been no headlines of Eunsu breaking in and entering Jungkook’s hotel room, along with the follow-up details of how you and your daughter (whose existence is known but her privacy maintained to the highest level you can maintain) arrived as a surprise, only to be confounded by the very scene of your rival in a nightgown, held back by guards.

You know it’s going to come eventually.

You know the telltale dread that fills you up when something far bigger and beyond you is on its path to overtake you. The articles, the scrutiny, and the discourses haven’t even entered the stage yet you already feel sick because this time, it’s not only your name that’s going to be dragged into a situation you never thought would happen.

It’s also your daughter’s.

“We need to talk about Hwayoung,” you approach Jungkook as soon as you come home after your overtime, stilling in your tracks when you see Hwayoung sleeping in her pen.

Jungkook’s eyes linger on her before looking at you properly this time, the knot on his throat loosening at the prospect of what’s been bothering his mind repeatedly, but with the promise of a solution that he hasn’t arrived at, yet is bound to hurt him nonetheless.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

You sit on the far end of the baby blue floor couch as if you and Jungkook don’t share a home together.

“We look okay to her now but still,” you pause, looking down on your feet that are bruising from the heels you’ve been filming with all day and night. “I don’t want to put her in the middle of… everything that thisis.”

Jungkook nods, not only because he understands, but because he’s aware of everything, all the way from the guilt of being a husband to the guilt of being a dad. 

“She’s bound to ask questions too, and even if she’s not asking them now, I feel bad having to keep her in the dark.”

“She’s still young, Jungkook. I never thought I’d say this, but I mean,” you sigh, shrugging defeatedly as you try to look for the right words. “If we keep including her in situations that she shouldn’t be a part of, we’re only bringing her closer to harm. For all we know, someone somewhere has a picture of her during the trip.”

“I-I tried my best. I moved as fast as I-…”

“I know. I also tried my best when we took the trip to you,” you exhale heavily, trying to wrap your head around the complexity of the past week alone; you can’t even understand why you pushed yourself to go back to work immediately after going back home. “I’m not saying that Hwayoung’s known already. I’m just considering the possibility because we could never be too sure.”

Jungkook knows you’re trying to get rid of the guilt that forms in him for that matter, but for everything else, he knows better than to assume of you.

“Do you…” he swallows. “Do you also think that Hwayoung needs a breather from us? Not the other way around, of course, but you know-…”

“I know what you mean,” you nod your head, the guilt of being a mom to a Hwayoung coming easily these days. “It’ll be good for her to be around other people. To be away from what we have going on.”

You and Jungkook share a guilt that’s only unique to having Hwayoung under your circumstances, and it’s a burden you want to get rid of without ever hurting her in the process.

“We can’t have my parents babysit. They read me easily and I don’t want them to know,” you confide, making your husband hang his head in shame even if it wasn’t your intention.

“My parents can’t either. They went on a cruise.”

“I don’t trust nannies,” you add, making Jungkook nod deliberately.

“Who can we trust then?” he sighs, rubbing his hand all over his face as he tries to scour his brain for people. “Who do we have in our lives that Hwayoung trusts too?”

Your head tilts after a few seconds in realization, and Jungkook’s mind drifts to his daughter’s godfather whether he likes it or not.

You and your husband have the same idea in mind, with one being less fond of it than the other.

“I’ll call Yoongi.”

( ♡ ) 

“I want to be your personal assistant.”

Jungkook says in one breath, right in the middle of making your lunchbox. 

You woke up early in the first place because you neither thought nor expected for him to do it for you, but with the way he’s nearly done and making more than necessary, you’re clearly due to be corrected.

Without Hwayoung to tend to, Jungkook itches to have a purpose. He wants to be needed even if he isn’t and the thought always springs up on him whenever his girls are by themselves. The use of him, although not always necessary, is what keeps Jungkook up on his feet these days, nevermind the excruciating guilt and desperation of wanting to make it up to you.

He almost always came to accompany you to your shootings before Hwayoung came around and he’s reminded of it as he packages your meal, his shaking pupils meeting your own that are only begging for any sort of explanation.

It’s not that you don’t want Jungkook to try — it just happens that it’s been awhile since it was only, truly the two of you.

“Why?"

“Because I want to,” he merely shrugs, and when he steps out of the kitchen, you only keep your frown to yourself as you realize that he’s already dressed for the day.

Jungkook doesn’t invade your space like he usually does but he sits close enough to you on the drive to your shooting location; enough for you to feel the warmth that radiates from him without being overwhelmed.

It’s been more than a long time since this happened that you’ve practically forgotten what it felt going to work with Jungkook.

You forgot how your husband steps out of the car first to hold all of your things in one hand with the other reaching out to help you down. 

You forgot how he has a natural scowl on his face and how despite your staff knowing that you’re already married (and to him specifically), they can’t believe the sight of the two of you together.

You forgot how Jungkook likes to hang around you as if he’s a dog with only one owner in any place he can call home as long as he’s with you, that you forget to tell Jimin that you haven’t told your husband about the upcoming press conference at all.

Without even trying, Jungkook overhears Jimin (who’s giving him the cold shoulder) going through your schedule for the next two weeks, his jaw grinding at the particular event that he already knows is important without any explanation—

Without any heads-up from you at all, it seems like.

Jimin’s already left your trailer several minutes ago but Jungkook’s eyes are still fixated on the chair he sat on, his eyes looking past the flooring and deeper into the ground that he wants to be one with out of disbelief– out of shame, even.

You always told him about your schedule and you didn’t leave anything out — it’s only now when it dawns on him that you haven’t been telling him about your work at all.

“Do you not want me there?” he asks, his voice thick with confusion. “Are you embarrassed of me or something?”

“It’s not like that, Jungkook.”

“Then make me understand,” he pleads with the hint of despair, the disbelief that coats his tone all throughout being entirely transparent.

You didn’t plan on how to break the news to him. You didn’t plan on letting Jungkook know about the media event at all.

There’s no other response that springs up to your throat except for the one that only exists since he’s had that drunken fight with you. 

“Because I don’t want you to ruin it again for me, okay?” you lick your lips, going more and more breathless the more that Jungkook mirrors how you looked back then when you begged him all those years ago. “Because the last time that I had a big press conference like this, you ruined it for me too.” 

The thought of Sora, and then Eunsu, and then Jungkook himself come hand in hand, and you wonder when will you stop suffering from the though process that haunts you whenever you’re reminded of press conferences — of your entire work in general.

“I don’t want to be reminded that you hate the life I gave you.”

Jungkook feels the urge to tuck his head in between his knees again, but he doesn’t want to run away this time.

“I said I’m sorry,” he surrenders as he lacks the words he had been telling you in numerous variations for the past days and weeks.

He didn’t think it had hurt this bad the last time around.

"And I only forgave you because it seemed right at the time," you clench your jaw, your exhale being more shaky than you expected. “I only forgave you because I had Hwayoung in my mind."

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s getting back into the groove of being by your side at work.

You’re still not fully adjusted to the sight of Jungkook during tapings, all while he moves about like it’s always been in his nature to assist you. He’s overeager in a lot of things, so much so that his presence practically attracts more attention than you do on set. 

It was just yesterday when Jungkook hollered and clapped his hands loudly after you say a long, emotional line before the director said cut and before your co-star could even say her line next, which led to you having to re-do the scene.

It was just two days before when he audibly groaned when an extra had to whistle at you for a scene and literally walked right into the set with his fists clenched, forgetting entirely that you were filming and that a random guy just didn’t catcall his wife in front of him.

It was just two minutes ago, when you ban Jungkook completely from watching you act.

“I’ll do it,” he perks up at the stylist as if he hadn’t been sulking to you just two minutes ago, his hands already fixing themselves on your arms to get you to stand up.

“Jungkook-…”

“But Mr. Jeon-“ she squeaks, about to say her thrice-rehearsed piece of doing her job (everyone on set has been warned about your husband making them jobless) when Jungkook basically carries you to your dressing room.

“No, no, I said I’ll do it!” he practically squeaks, setting you down wordlessly with a giddy smile on his face.

Jungkook’s too good at getting back into the groove of being by your side, you almost forget that the two of you aren’t entirely okay.

He gets you into your gown with utmost care (albeit a little confusion along the way), his hands caressing you with the familiarity that only he carries. Jungkook carries a weight with him that settles when he touches you in any which way, the weariness of his fingers dispersing as soon as you give him the slightest attention.

He may have looked stupid pretending he didn’t know how corsets worked or how petticoats are worn first before the actual gown, but his denseness had atleast bought a little more time from you.

A little more warmth.

Jungkook looks at you intimately, not in the way that’s begging for you to want to jump his bones, but in the way that he knows who you hated throughout the workday while having his warm hands work on your calves.

He knows every inch of you, which may be the reason his hands feel warmer on you than you recall, all the way to the tips of your toes that feel trapped all of a sudden.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I think they’re gonna swap out my shoes anyway because they won’t be seen,” you murmur, trying to avoid the heels and the pain they bring but not until he hushes you.

“I’m not putting on your heels. I’m putting on your socks.”

“I don’t need socks.”

“Your cold dogs keep rubbing up on my legs at night whenever you forget to put them on,” he snickers out of nowhere and it brings out a sudden snort from you, the brief and unorthodox moment hanging over you whilst the two of you gloss over the fact that not only have you not been intimate for so long, but you’ve also not cuddled despite sleeping in the same bed.

Jungkook walks you to your set with his hands raised in surrender, already murmuring to your worried director that he’ll stay out this time as soon as he finishes taking you.

“Wait,” he squeaks before turning back to you, making everyone else hold their breaths to see if they could retain their jobs today. Jungkook carefully removes your wedding ring that you forgot to stash, wearing it snugly on his pinky instead. “Just for safekeeping.”

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s not fond of the rain.

He’s not fond of it especially when your job requires you to stand under it.

“Your hazard pay should be ginormous for the work they’re making you go through,” he mutters, holding up an umbrella for you as some stylists make quick work of already pre-soaking you before the scene starts.

“It’s just a little rain,” you roll your eyes, about to shove your hands in your pockets because it’s getting a little cold already yet Jungkook notices before you even could, holding both of them with just one massive hand as he leans the umbrella more to your side.

“They should cancel the filming today. It’s pouring,” he continues like he’s never heard you, even if the rain isn’t terrifyingly bad. The weather’s only fitting because the scene calls for it, but even so, Jungkook feels hesitant.

He lets go of your hands for a brief second to retrieve the handkerchief that’s tucked to the waistband of his pants, already unraveling it for you in waiting.

“Blow.”

“What?” you narrow your eyes at him, looking down on the fabric until it finally hits you in realization.

“Blow your nose,” he nudges you, nodding his head to it but it only makes you shake your head even more.

“No way!”

“Just blow your nose now so you wouldn’t feel stuffy later.”

“I’m not gonna feel stuffy later. It’s just a little rain,” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms together as you beg internally for the lighting to be fixed so you could shoo your husband away.

“Blow your nose while I’m still asking.”

“Ew, no. I’ll look like a child in front of — Jungkook!”

Before you could even comprehend it, Jungkook’s already pinching your nose with the handkerchief, forcibly making you blow your nose, uncaring of the swooning and oddly endeared eyes trained on the two of you.

“Just a little rain. Heh,” he mocks, folding the handkerchief back up with one hand to tuck back into his waistband. Jungkook moves on like it’s nothing, begrudgingly leaving you alone without an umbrella, but not without raising his voice enough for the other staff to hear. “I’ll try to scare your management into raising your hazard pay.”

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook likes peeling fruits for you and Hwayoung.

He doesn’t like the sticky residue nor the lasting smell that gets stuck underneath his fingernails, but he manages. He’d only eat your leftovers and he wouldn’t do it for himself anyway, even if he knows you always get a little irked by the fact.

It’s his habit now to cut fruits for you in the most Hwayoung-tolerable slices possible, the bowl of tinily-cut tangerines underneath your hands as you skim through your script making him uncharacteristically silent; if he wasn’t apologizing to you, you would be talking each other’s ear off about Hwayoung.

He tries not to make a big deal out of brushing your hair because it’s been a while since the last time, instead reading your script along with you so he’ll be distracted. Jungkook doesn’t know if he can focus as hard as you do or remain like so for even longer, but at the moment, there’s only one line on the script that stands out to him.

It stands out, not because it’s long nor vulgar, but because the line belongs to him.

“That scene — will it be filmed today?” Jungkook asks, breaking the silence as he traces the words with his finger.

“Huh? This one?” you follow to where he points, shaking his head as you try to remember. “No. It’ll be next week, I think. I’m just memorizing in advance.”

Jungkook hums but it’s not out of interest, the sound that comes from him instead bordering on a wince. There’s a terse look on his face that you could only liken to jealousy, the thought of it unexpectedly making you snicker.

“Calm down, Jungkook. It’s not a kissing scene.”

“But you say I love you to him, though.”

“That’s worse?”

“Maybe. Probably,” he shrugs, the uncalled-for thought about what he’d feel if there’s a scene where you have to have (read: acting to have) sex making his throat close up painfully. “I can’t tell.”

The thought crosses your mind too, but you’d rather not dwell on it.

“How do I look like when I say I love you?”

Jungkook purses his lips, pausing from brushing out the section of hair he’s passed through more than ten times out of distraction (read: devastation).

You look like love itself if it had been personified. 

You look like an unexplainable feeling in an interrupted dream he had been born with, and his sole mission in life is to seek you.

You look like what miracles do and he’s the first witness each and every time until you’re canonized by everyone, except he always wants to place himself at your feet as your first devotee.

“I know exactly what you look like when you tell me you love me,” Jungkook answers. “But I don’t want to tell you.”

“Why not?” you laugh at his defensiveness, replacing your gaze on him through the mirror just to crane your neck up at him so you could see his reaction more closely.

“Because you only have to act it out,” he shrugs, eventually laughing along with you even if he means every word. “I want to be the only one that knows what you look like when you’re saying the truth.”

( ♡ ) 

It’s your first good day in a week and a half.

It’s actually the first day wherein you and Jungkook talked simply because you wanted to; the first day wherein your conversations didn’t revolve around Hwayoung and pestering Yoongi to send more pictures of her, and the first day wherein Jungkook didn’t try apologizing.

You hum in content as you sit on the couch as soon as you come home, your husband following suit and sitting next to you instead of giving you space.

There’s only a centimeter worth of distance between your hands placed on the couch, and if Jungkook only twitched in faux accident, his pinky (the one that still wore your wedding band) would be brushing yours already.

“It’s like we’re kids again,” you smile to yourself, looking around the entire house. You remember how your ceilings didn’t used to be this high and how your space didn’t used to be this wide — you remember how you and Jungkook weren’t always like this.

“We are kids,” he emphasizes, playfully rolling his eyes.

“Aren’t we pushing thirty?”

“I don’t wanna go into details right now,” he murmurs, slouching further into the couch and nearer to you, his hair that’s growing past his ears lightly brushing against your shoulder.

Jungkook looks around the house too, his eyes glazing past Hwayoung’s playpen, the laundry of a family of three that he’s yet to fold, and the toys of a cat who hates him that he has to sort out soon enough.

Jungkook’s life wasn’t always this way and although he appreciates the fact, he’s terrified by the possibility that it’ll be this double-edged sword that’s waiting to happen.

In the same way that worship is optional but devotion is necessary, Jungkook tries to hold you as tightly as he could without pushing you away.

“Baby,” he rasps out, chewing on his bottom lip as he tries to make sense of the ache that blooms in his chest. “What if…”

“What’s in your head, Kook?”

In the same way that devotion is necessary but worship is optional, Jungkook toes the line with a question that he has no telling what the answer is to.

“If you had the option to have Hwayoung with someone who isn’t me,” he clears his throat, trying to get rid of the immediate pang in his heart that follows.“Would you still have her?”

You think for a second and answer immediately, even if Jungkook wanted you to stay silent for longer because he’s afraid of what you would say.

“That’s not Hwayoung then.”

“No but I mean hypothetically, if you could have Hwayoung-…”

“I got what you meant the first time,” you interrupt him, gently shrugging him to get up from your shoulder so he’d look at you without running away. “That’s not Hwayoung,” you mumble, trying to keep up with the myriad of thoughts that he had opened up. “Hwayoung’s only Hwayoung because she’s part me and part you.”

Jungkook nods, except he doesn’t understand. You could say your piece over and over again, but Jungkook still wouldn’t understand because he doesn’t know what he wants to hear from you either.

“But what if she has all of you and you could pick someone else to be her dad,” he croaks, looking down on the floor with a grief that belongs only to him. “Would you still want her?”

“I want Hwayoung because she’s my daughter with you, Jungkook,” you sigh. “I could pick someone to be her dad and that someone is you. I already chose you — what’s hard to understand about that?”

You hear Jungkook asking you the question over and over again, even if his mouth is already shut. You see him looking at you with tears in his eyes even if they’re downcast on the floor in reality.

You feel yourself wavering even if you’re definite about your answer.

“You made me a mom and I made you a dad.”

“But I doomed us into this,” Jungkook weakly counters. “If only… i-if only I changed my ways earlier, if I — if I could’ve been just content with this perfect life you built for us, t-then we wouldn’t be-…”

Jungkook inhales sharply, the choke that soon follows ringing in your ears to the point that it pricks tears from your eyes. 

“We wouldn’t be in this situation, Y/N. I turned us into this,” he sobs. “If only I could’ve been s-satisfied, Hwayoung would be in my arms at this time while we wait for you to come home,” Jungkook shakes his head painfully, the clench of his fists evident even when you’re only looking at him from the corner of your eye. “If only I thought everything you— you spoon-fed me was enough, then Yoongi, of all people, wouldn’t be babysitting our daughter right now,” he pauses. “Why can’t I be in your press conference?”

You don’t have to look anywhere in the house to realize that Hwayoung’s playpen is empty.

You don’t have to tune anything out to realize that Hwayoung isn’t here in between the two of you, talking and giggling as you go about your day while you’re still wearing your outside clothes; while she’s still in her pajamas because she wanted to wait for you to come home.

The gravity of everything hits you all at once, making you hiccup in tears.

“You were really mean, Jungkook.”

In the same way that worship is optional but devotion is necessary, Jungkook listens to you even if it’s you cursing him.

“I’m not the best mom there is because I’ve missed so much milestones. I… I-I’ve missed so much trying to secure everything for you, for Hwayoung, f-for us because I don’t know how much more I could take,” you sob, burying your face in your hands. “Do you know how hard it is for me? Do you know how hard it is for me to work alone while knowing that my husband and daughter have each other at home? That I don’t have someone while I put myself out there?”

There’s a strain of grief in your heart that only you carry, and Jungkook can’t do anything about it.

“I feel so, so, s-so fucking guilty, Jungkook!” you shriek, your cheeks turning blotchy the more that you cry. “I-I… I had to pick up this child— this child actor— over and over again because my fake role is to be his mother,” you strain a laugh humorlessly, trying to screw your eyes shut so you wouldn’t see Hwayoung’s laundry from the corner of your eye. “Meanwhile, I can’t even hold my own child because her appa’s already taking good care of her at home.”

In the same way that devotion is necessary but worship is optional, Jungkook takes it, takes you, should this be his punishment.

“Jungkook, if you envy me, then you don’t know how much I envy you more,” you exhale in defeat, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “If only I could, do you think I wouldn’t drop everything just to stay at home with you and Hwayoung?” 

“You could be mad at me all you want, Jungkook, but I still don’t want you to go to the press con.” 

“It’s different now, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, his eyes rubbed red and raw as he pleads with you silently because no word, no litany can save him now.

“But how different is now from then? It’s like we’re kids again, Jungkook,” you whisper. “If you were the one in my place, would you drop everything if I asked you to?” you add, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Can you drop everything if I asked you to?”

( ♡ ) 

In a dream Jungkook doesn’t tell anyone, he’s never met Sora, and you happen to be his first everything.

In a dream your husband doesn’t tell anyone, he doesn’t know of Eunsu’s existence, and if he were to know about her, he only happens to think about her as your rival and nothing more.

In a dream he doesn’t tell anyone, he didn’t wake up late in your bed, and he most certainly heard Yoongi ringing the bell eagerly because he wanted to take Hwayoung home to see the both of you before you go to your press conference.

Jungkook bounds down the stairs so quickly that he almost trips on the way down. His hair is still unkempt and his shirt remains askew, yet he still goes down anyway with a speed you can’t even decipher because he’s already heard his daughter cheerful screaming.

"Up, up!" Hwayoung claps her hands, looking at Jungkook’s direction but not at him — instead, she’s looking at Yoongi who’s emerging from the kitchen.

In a dream Jungkook doesn’t tell anyone, Hwayoung doesn’t know anyone except for you and him.

“Up, appa! Up!”

In a nightmare that Jungkook’s experiencing in real time, Hwayoung mistakes Yoongi as her dad.

[suguru-getos]

Fates - SatoSugu x F!Reader (Part I)

Summary: Y/N is Gojo Satoru's beloved wife, or maybe, not so beloved if we consider the rage festering in the form of abuse. Suguru however, has a connection to her too, and it's time he gets to his girl. Warnings: Satoru is a Yandere, he is psychotic, abusive, and bad. Mentions of slight depression, scared reader. Please let me know if I missed anything. A/N: Queen Goddess Ena cooked with this, I was so bored at work I just came up with this, this story will only have two parts I don't want to drag it much :33

Pupils glazed, it has almost become a signature look in the Satoru household. Her pupils look red, eyes puffy, and she's a mixture of mingled sniffles and broken cries. Satoru thinks, she cries a lot. What even is the need for it? It's not like he is harming her, he hasn't shown her half of what he is capable of. Yet, the way she cowers and flinches against him… makes his stomach churn uncomfortably.

"I brought your favourite." His voice echoed, a signal for her to stir awake instantly. Meek, hurried footsteps are heard a few seconds later as she drags herself to the dining area. Dressed eloquently, satin, lavender satin clothes and her beautiful cleavage on sight. It reminds Satoru that she is small, fragile, powerless. Sometimes when her actions become inexcusable, that reminder is needed. How else would someone like Gojo Satoru contain his strength otherwise?

"Wow, you look beautiful." His glossy lips parted, the compliment oozing out with a mixture of conflicted emotions. His eyes well hidden under the mask. "Thank you" She answered without thinking, it's only possible through months of practise after all.

"You're welcome, my Princess." Satoru croons, holding her bruised wrist and helping her sit. The hold is nice, kind and passionate. Unlike the time when it bruised, unlike the time when she wouldn't listen and deny eating. Some lessons are learnt the hard way, you can't help but feel guilty about it later on. For Satoru, it's one of those days where he is feeling upset over his actions. When that emotion trembles his psyche, his affections know no bounds. Why else is the dining table saturated with everything her silly, little heart could possibly desire. Yet, there is one thing missing. Her appetite.

She settles down the dining table, eyes glancing at the larger man who sat next to her, "All your favourites, now be a good girl and finish it up." He grins, it's okay, he can smile for the both of them on days when she can't. He can be positive for the both of them when she can't. What else are relationships for?

"You know I can't finish it up alone." She sounds scared, voice containing slight tones of malice. That doesn’t faze Satoru, he knows that it will happen. His Dearest, Sweetest little girl can be angry at him. She is allowed to be angry at him, he belongs to her anyway, just as much as she belongs to him. However, the fact that her eyes are filled with tears and her soft, smooth voice is breaking when she says it is what punches him in the gut.

"Well, you know, no punishments when you can't finish the food. Bonus points for trying!" Satoru tries to sound excessively excited again, a desperate attempt to mute the bubbling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Okay" She hums, taking a bite of one of the pastries placed in front of her, humming in her approval. They seem tasty, yummy.

"I- uh," Satoru's voice is quick to distract her though, "I'm sorry for being a bad husband." Satoru answers, "It wouldn't happen again." There he goes, she has lost count to how many times Satoru has said these words. That he wouldn't do it again, that it wouldn't happen again. She doesn't believe him anymore, a bored nod is all he gets as a response.

Satoru's lips are pursed in guilt, "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that." He echoes again, that's true, he shouldn't have.

He shouldn't have sprained her wrist, he shouldn't have yanked her to the floor and yelled at her, he shouldn't have watched when her shoulder collides against the lamp and he shouldn't have watched her hiss in pain when she falls on the broken shards of glass. He shouldn't have done that because she didn't agree to have a baby. He shouldn't have…

"If it’s any consolation, I will not be botherin' you to ask you for a child again. Just thought you'd love me more with it." Satoru's voice drops into an ashamed murmur, admitting that all he wants at the end of the day is her love, it's freeing in a way. It's like confessing your sins at a church and just letting the almighty handle it.

It's just… her expression. She seems so out of it, so numb, broken… that he doesn't understand what to do, or say.

"Look, I'm running out of options here Sweetheart." Satoru's larger hand placed atop hers. The weak flinch not gone unnoticed, "How can I make it up to you?" He asked again, gnawing at his lip. "I'll do whatever you ask me to, I promise."

No he won't. If he would have actually done whatever she asked of him, they would have been divorced long, long ago. Satoru is good with words, his words almost seem healing, but that's all they are. Mere Fucking Words.

Before she could say anything, Satoru's phone vibrates. The only thing she is thankful for, is Satoru's impossible schedule. Being the strongest sorcerer ever has it's perks for her. She gets to rot in the Gojo estate alone. Much better than the company of her cruel, narcissistic husband.

Satoru gets up, taking the call and walking away to the hall-way. She can hear him trying to deny this mission, but reluctantly accepting it. A sigh escapes him when he comes back to the dining room, kneeling in front of her.

"Hey, Princess…" His hand reached to her cheek, caressing the cut that's still healing. "I have to go for a mission, you could even go outside if you like!" He smiled, giving her the bait to ensure at least momentarily happiness. What can she even do when she goes outside? Nothing. Satoru has his clutches deep within her family, her parents love him. He is sponsoring her brother's education, he takes control of everything. He has taken an active participation in her father's business. Nothing can be done now, the last time she mentioned divorce Satoru went livid. She doesn't think she can handle that ever again.

Another rehearsed nod happens, as she watches The Strongest leave her be.

Once his presence is gone, her heart bursts open to wails of agony, breathless sniffling and scream crying. What did she ever do to anyone! Why is she facing this! Her hopeless sobs echoed the premises, all she could hear was her own voice, broken, sobbing like a child. Until even that stopped, until silence enveloped her and exhaustion blanketed her into slumber.

The next morning, she is awake, realizing she passed out on the dining table. Her back hurts at the weird position she slept in, an aching groan escaping her lips. Satoru's texts on her phone wishing a good morning. Life is back to being hell. She responds to his texts with a sigh, dragging her boulted feet for a shower. Contemplating, thinking if there is any escape at all which can be possible. None, nothing comes to her mind. Absolutely nothing.

Drying herself up, applying ointments and bandages to the wounds caused by her husband, she gets ready to go outside, the mall seems nice. Satoru is out of Japan for a few days, perfect opportunity to gather herself back again, after all, Satoru needs something to break, right?

The commute goes by in a haze, thoughts on thoughts piled up, overwhelming like auditorium chatter of an audience.

"Uhm, excuse me, I really liked this one." One of the girls next to her spoke, whiskey-kin hair, a few years younger. It was an only designer in the Chanel store which was left. "Uh- okay." She hums, leaning away. Well, that was too easy? The girl beamed with happiness. "Oh wow! Thank you so much miss!"

Y/N had learnt how to respond with smiles that avoid any questions, and that's exactly what she did. Smiled back at the girl.

"My name is Nanako, I am here for shopping because my birthday is coming up soon. You are here for shopping too, and from the bruise on your jaw and neck, it seems your husband says sorry with new things." She was taken aback at the boldness, blinking.

"N-no, it was just- an accident." "You don't have to pretend in front of me, I don't think your husband is around anyway." Nanako winked, smiling back. "You're really beautiful, pretty sure my dad would have treated you way better. Leave the bastard, dump him!" She continued, following a very confused Y/N out the store. What was the deal with this girl even? "Your dad would be almost my dad's age." "Adoptive! He is a few years older than you I think." Nanako hums again, "Coffee? I like you because you gave me my favourite dress!" "I don't think that-" "Please!" "Uhm, okay." Y/N speaks, giving up and following up.

They settle in one of the coffee shops in the mall, settling in. The waiter comes in and asks for their order, "Iced Mocha, please." Y/N hums, and Nanako orders a Frappucino for herself.

"Nanako, who have you bothered now." A silky voice echoed from behind, her eyes lingered to the man in front of them, black hair touching his back, eyes responsive and appealing, his cologne was strong, musky and spicy, a close-eyed smile plastered on his features. "Geto sama!" Nanako chirps happily, "Please come sit next to us." She urged the man, who scanned Y/N and Nanako.

"Hello, my name is Geto Suguru." The man coos, watching her look submissive and even scared. She continuously reminded herself that Satoru is not here, nothing will happen. "Y/N Gojo." She hums, the large diamond ring on her finger noticed immediately.

Suguru is meeting Satoru's wife for the first time, he had heard that Satoru had changed; he is not the epitome of kindness anymore. It's evident. The bruises on her jaw and cheek are evident. His eyes softened, his heart hurts. Suguru met Y/N first, when she wasn't Gojo's wife… and let her go, the curses within him erasing her memory. All because Satoru loved her and Suguru felt that he owed it to his best friend, to have someone like Y/N. To have someone who can show him how great it is to achieve true love. How a non-sorcerer like Y/N was able to take Suguru's heart away. Oh how he regrets it now, he let his precious Angel go, and now she is in hell. The reminder when her loving eyes turned to void after their last kiss. Suguru has had recurrent nightmares about it. Maybe that's the reason Satoru's behaviour has changed. The fear of losing Y/N back to Suguru.

Well, that fear is about to come true, Suguru has had enough.

"You look beautiful in that dress Y/N Gojo." Suguru's voice took the lead, smiling gently. "Pity those bruises don't really suit someone strong-looking like you." The next statement comes off as scathing. "Tell me, if the person you loved, and the person who loved you back, and you shared a kiss, and they forget you, what would you do to remind them?" Suguru's sudden question took her off-guard. What does he mean…

"Sorry?" "Oh don't be. I know the question is random." He hums, watching the waiter put down the coffee. "I would kiss him again, if a kiss doesn't remind him, don't think anything else will." Y/N answered. Her freshly manicured fingers grazing against the glass.

Suguru's smile only grows wider. "Oh right, wonderful." He hums, and in the next swift movement, his hands are grazing Y/N's jaw. Her eyes widening. What is with this man, what’s happening! Satoru would kill her, Satoru would kill this man. Why can't she move, why is she unable to resist - and why is her body not anxious? If Satoru was to come near to her like this, her heart beat would have raced and pounded recklessly, a panic attack brewing. Nothing is happening now- she is as calm as it can be.

"How I missed my Angel." Suguru hummed, leaning in and kissing her, forcing the most unforced kiss ever. His tongue contained something bitter, something that latched deep down her throat. Suguru wants his angel back, Suguru misses her, Satoru couldn't get someone he can't love properly. Suguru's entire being was shattered when he let her go, it's time he has her back.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi! I don't know if you do requests (idk if this is considered one) but I was wondering if you could continue the story of "Alfred's Boy" it left off at a hilarious time. I really want to know what happens next! 💖💖💖💖

Bruce admits he's a little nervous about how the opera goes. He had only meant to distract Wes and Danny, but thanks to Jason, almost all his children had demanded seats, too.

Thankfully, his contacts got him the biggest box set to accommodate them all. He wished he hadn't made the excuse of having plans already because then he could have gone with them. As it were, he only caught a glimpse of them strutting into the front entrance dressed in their best outfits.

Bruce thought they were practicing for the runway with the way they attempted to show off for Danny. It would have been adorable had it not been for the fact that Danny was much more focused on how excited Wes seemed to be as the other boy gawked at the gothic structure of the opera house.

It checked off another box on the "secret boyfriend" list, as Danny seemed unable to refuse Wes' demands. He posed in front of everything for a photo. Tim, in particular, was seething as Wes moved Danny into his desired poses, using, of all things, his camera phone.

"That's an insult to the art," Tim hissed, readjusting his suit jacket, when Wes fell to his knees so he could get a lower shot of a blushing Danny sitting by Gotham's Oprea sign. "He's not even adjusting the lighting settings!"

"Chum-" Bruce started only to have Damian cut him off.

"Would be a shame if Weston were to fall off the cliff while he was distracting photographing, my beloved."

"Danny is not yours, but you're right. It would be a shame," Tim smirked, inching towards the pair. Bruce yanked the two back by their collars, shaking them like misbehaving cats.

"No."

"But Father-"

"No."

Thankfully, Jason and Dick were able to ensure nothing happened to Wes. In fact, his eldest had convinced all the children to pose for Wes and even got the boy in a few of the shots. Danny seemed to be glowing.

Once the show started, Bruce decided that it would be perfect if he had a nice, long, bubbly bath. He has been stressed more than usual this weekend, so he would delay his patrol for maybe an hour so he could enjoy some nice classical music and have some chocolate.

He even stopped by that little boutique that would have the best bath bombs. The clerk made them locally, and he has yet to find ones that made his skin shine as bright as hers.

Not to mention, her Lavander mint mix was to die for. Even Alford enjoyed using one occasionally, which was highly praised. His butler was very peculiar when it came to mint-scented things.

With basket in hand, Bruce browsed the various scents of the bath bombs. He figured he could get the children some, too. They all had some aches and pains from years of vigilante fighting that a nice warm bath could help soothe.

He even selected a sample package that contained five various bath bombs for Wes and Danny to try out. He may not have known which scenes they liked the most, but he didn't want to make them feel excluded.

Bruce's phone dings as he debates getting three sample packages so the boys can try them all. Pulling it out, he makes the executive decision to do so, throwing two of the three in his basket.

It's a message from Cass.

It was odd that his daughter would text while the show was going on. She normally waits until after to use her phone as a performer herself. Fearing something had gone wrong, he clicked open the messaging app, already feeling a sense of dread.

Goodbye, sense of peace from a single father trying his best.

She sent a photo of herself and her siblings in their seats. Cass has it angled to look like a selfie, but while smiling wide at the camera in her outstretched hand behind her head, all of her siblings are facing somewhere else.

Steph, Tim, Damian, and Duke are glaring at the end of the aisle, where Wes is sitting next to Jason, and Danny is sitting on the wall on his other side. Both boys are flustered, leaning towards Jason, who is pointing out of the seat box—presumingly to the stage.

Dick is a buffer between Jason and the guest, reading the program with a content smile and casually pressing his hand into Duke's chest, pushing him away.

Cass captioned the photo with, "Family is sometimes me, my younger siblings, and the one twink they are in love with. Dick, Jason, and Wes are mere decorations."

Bruce sighs, adding a box of large, expensive chocolates to his basket. He's going to need them tonight.

He gives the counter girl a smile, even as she seemed generally surprised he was willing to buy half the merchandise in the spa section. The billionaire races home to have his long hot bath, amused to learn Alfred has the same thought.

They get crazy and even order pizza since the kids aren't home.

Hours later, Batman is on regular patrol, jumping through the city and stopping petty crimes. He swings by the opera house just in time to see Alfred pull up at the entrance to pick the kids up.

Wes is gushing to Danny again, holding his hand and gesturing with the other. His other children seemed rather peeved that they couldn't get any of Danny's attention while Jason, Dick, and Cass were busy eating ice cream cones.

Where did they even get that ice cream?

Suddenly, Wes looks around before he makes direct eye contact with Bruce through the binoculars. There is a hard look in his eye before Danny leans in to whisper into his ear. At once, Wes' face clears, and he cheerfully waves at Bruce.

He is miles away from them. How did the boy notice?

Something is not quite right with Alfred's guests.

[saturnznct]

how he acts when you're pregnant | enhypen x reader

➸ request from anon; heyy, I’m so happy you’re back! You’re fics were always my go-to if I wanted to read anything dad/pregnancy related, loved them all! can you please write about how enhypen would treat you during pregnancy, like their protectiveness, taking care of the reader, or when she’s having complications etc. 🤍

➸ note; hehe me too thank you so much!! that makes me so happy!! i don't love some of these but I hope they're what you wanted <3

➸ word count; 2335 words

➸ sangyoon, sam, ella, eunhye, yeeun, seren; in the womb lol

➸ warning(s); mentions of vomiting, implied sexy time, gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, mentions of possible birth complications

enhypen masterlist

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

heeseung

Heeseung can’t take his hands off you.

You don’t know if it’s because you’re newlyweds, or if it’s because you’re pregnant, but he can’t stay away.

At least one hand is always somewhere on you, on your shoulder, around your waist, on your thigh or knee. 

At night, it doesn’t matter if it’s in the dead of summer, his arm is snaked around you and his head is buried in the back of your neck.

Once you reach your second trimester, and your bump becomes noticeable, Heeseung is always touching your bump, tapping it absentmindedly with his fingers, beaming from ear to ear when eventually he can feel your baby boy squirming underneath his touch.

Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night to the push of feet against his palms, it made him smile every time.

Heeseung is also completely whipped for you, he’ll do anything you ask. 

Your cravings get intense, and he doesn’t complain when you wake him at three in the morning whining about salted popcorn with cheese on. And he goes to the store for you, every time.

Heeseung isn’t usually very sappy, but as soon as your bump pops up he’s the most sentimental soppy man in the world.

Every morning and night he talks to your bump about anything and everything. Even during the day he will randomly address the bump asking it questions.

‘Okay, little one,’ Heeseung sinks to his knees one morning, resting a hand on either side of your bump, ‘kick once for cornflakes. Kick twice for the chocolate cereal.’

You giggle, ‘you’re an idiot.’

‘I’m indecisive. This boy needs to pull his weight and help me. He’s already living here rent free for the next however long.’

You roll your eyes, going back to your own breakfast.

‘What do you think baby boy?’ Heeseung gently pokes at your bump attempting to illicit a response.

Eventually your son delivers a single kick, causing you to choke on your coffee. 

‘Unlucky,’ you laugh at his disappointed face, ‘cornflakes it is.’

‘I will evict him as soon as physically possible. How can he disrespect me like this in my own house.’

‘Can’t wait until he’s actually here,’ you murmur.

‘Me too,’ Heeseung kisses your bump before getting up to kiss your head and reach for the cornflakes.

jay

Jay isn’t too overbearing during your pregnancy. He’s not the type to constantly ask if you need anything, he will wait for you to ask him.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t anticipate your needs, you’ll come home from a late shift to find your pregnancy pillow already set up, your cravings are always fully stocked and there’s always plenty of bubble bath.

Where he does get somewhat intense is in public.

Jay constantly worries about harm coming to either of you. When you go shopping, he’s careful not to be recognised, wearing hats and glasses as to not to draw attention to you. In airports, his arm is always around you, guiding you around. 

So, when he’s on tour during your pregnancy and you come to visit, he’s on high alert.

‘Jay, I can walk around the venue by myself,’ you’re escorted into the dressing room by a security guard.

Jay pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head, ‘there’s lots of equipment around baby, what if you hurt yourself?’

You roll your eyes, ‘have I ever hurt myself backstage before?’

‘Let me look after you,’ he pecks your lips, ‘anyway, it’s soundcheck soon. There’s a nice chair set up for you beside the stage for the actual show as well-‘

‘Wait, I’m going to watch from backstage?’

‘Yeah, of course,’ Jay says, ‘going out there can’t be good for you, or the baby-‘

‘But you know I love being in the audience,’ you pout, ‘Jay, I want to be out there singing along with my lightstick just like everyone else.’

Jay tilts his head, ‘I don’t know, sweetheart, you’re so far along and the fans can be so intense…’

‘I’ll be in the stands with your managers, I’ll have so much space!’

‘I just have visions of you falling over or someone bumping into you..’

‘Please, baby,’ you pull out the puppy eyes, wrapping your arms around his waist, and you quickly see him crumble.

‘Fine, but minimal dancing,’ he taps your nose, ‘and a security guard.’

Just then, a stage runner knocks on the door, letting Jay know he’s needed for soundcheck.

‘Come on, I’ll take you to your seat.’ 

‘Jay!’

jake

When you first found out you were pregnant, Jake sort of panics a little bit.

You’re hunched over the toilet and throwing up he doesn’t really know what to do. This is completely new territory for him. Your early symptoms often have him incredibly flustered, you’re emotional, your boobs hurt and you’re constantly dizzy.

One night, Jake comes home from practice, and it’s like his instincts awaken when he sees you in the bathroom, on the floor sobbing.

‘Jake,’ you cry when you see him, and he’s instantly at your side on the tiles, ‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Jake takes you into his arms, letting you cry into his shoulder.

‘I know I haven’t been the most.. helpful,’ he murmurs, ‘but I know you, and you are so strong, and you can do this. And I will do everything and anything you need from me, okay?’

From then on, Jake is the most attentive boyfriend, and is very touchy. You don’t even have to ask, and he’s giving you a foot massage. You come home from work, and there’s already a bath run for you at the perfect temperature.

Once you’re four months in, your bump becomes noticeable, and Jake’s level of affection is just exacerbated. 

Every night he rubs your lotion on your bump, tells the bump about his day, and sleeping with his hand on it.

When you’re hormonal, he holds you.

‘Everything hurts, Jake,’ you sob, ‘all day. She’s been sitting on my spine all day, and I’ve been having braxtons, and my boobs hurt and they’re leaking, I tried to nap but I just couldn’t-‘

Jake from month one in your pregnancy would’ve freaked out at your outburst, but this Jake, in month seven, is calm and collected.

He runs you a bath, filling it with lavender bubbles. On your insistence, he gets in behind you, rubbing your back, shoulders and achy breasts.

’Is that better?’ Jake murmurs, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver down your spine and stirring up your hormones.

‘Much,’ you roll your head back against his shoulder, ‘you’re the best.’

He kisses your head, ‘how about we get out and go lay down?’

‘We can get out,’ you nod, ‘but can we do more than lay down?’

Jake grins cheekily, ‘incredible idea.’

sunghoon

For your whole pregnancy, Sunghoon is just filled with pride. He shows ultrasound photos to everyone and talks nonstop about your incoming baby girl to anyone that will listen.

Sunghoon becomes a bit of a pregnancy expert. Every book he can get his hands on, he reads cover to cover. He knows what to expect, what was abnormal and everything in-between. 

So Sunghoon did notice just how much you were needing to go to the bathroom. 

It was relentless. He would wake up several times a night to you wriggling out of his arms and padding into your ensuite. During the day, you’re constantly up and down needing to pee, when you’re driving you have Sunghoon pull into service stations constantly. 

He brings it up to your doctor at the next scan. Your doctor agrees that the rate of your bathroom trips are a little out of the ordinary, so he refers you for blood tests. 

‘Gestational diabetes,’ you read the words on the leaflet, slumped in the passenger seat of your car.

‘Y/N..’

‘This is my fault.’

‘Y/N, you heard the doctor. Sometimes these things just happen,’ Sunghoon rests a hand on your arm.

‘What if something happens to her because of this? I know he said that the risks were small, but what if?’ you begin to tear up.

’She was perfect on the scan the other day, remember? I’m going to help you through this. We’re going to get through this.’

Sunghoon stayed up all night that night reading article after article about gestational diabetes. You woke up the next morning to find a full google doc with meal plans, exercise routines and a schedule to check your blood sugars.

He happily did everything with you, eating the same meals and cutting down on sugar. 

On an evening, the two of you would go down to the pool in your apartment complex for a swim. You would slowly swim around while chatting, usually about the baby or work. 

‘You’ve made this so much easier for me,’ you stand over your daughter’s empty crib, damp hair occasionally dripping onto your bump, ‘thank you.’

‘It’s what I’m supposed to do,’ Sunghoon gently turns you around by your waist and kisses your nose, ‘as your husband and her father.’

‘We love you, Hoon.’

‘I love you too.’

sunoo

Sunoo feels totally out of his depth. 

Suddenly his fiancee is pregnant, something you never expected. He doesn’t know the first thing about pregnancy, and doesn’t know how to respond to your symptoms. He sort of just treats you as if you’re sick, bringing you soup and tea but keeping his distance. At the same time, you’re hormonal, and can’t understand why he’s staying away.

You worry he doesn’t want the baby, that he’s having second thoughts, or you’re bothering him too much with your requests. In reality, Sunoo is just so worried that he’s not being helpful, or that somehow he might hurt or upset you.

One night you’re laying in bed together watching TV in silence, you essentially lose it.

’Sunoo,’ you’re tearing up, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why?’ he whips his head around to look at you, ‘for what?’

‘You’re just distant, and you keep away from me, I barely see you. If it’s me or the baby I would rather you just tell me-’

’No- no, that’s not it at all. I want you and the baby more than anything in the world.’

Sunoo is quiet for a few moments, ‘I’m sorry. I guess I’m just scared. I’ve been retreating into my head and haven’t been there for you like I should be.’

‘Sunoo, we need to talk to each other. I need to know how you feel. If we’re going to be parents, we need to be a team, we need to be in sync.’

‘I know, you’re right. I promise going forward I’ll be more open with you about how I feel.’

From then on, he’s obsessed with all things pregnancy and baby.

Every few days you’ll come home to a package addressed to you that you didn’t order, containing a weird pregnancy product that he saw on TikTok.

You and Sunoo talk constantly. You chat late at night in bed, in the morning on your balcony as the sun comes up, in the car on an evening, all about your excitement and fears surrounding the baby. 

Sunoo also becomes somewhat clingy, especially at night or when you’re in crowds. While before you were pregnant he would usually just throw an arm around you, now he sleeps completely pressed against you, his chest to your back.

‘I love you,’ he mumbles into your neck one night, ‘thank you for giving me my dream.’

jungwon

Your pregnancy with Serin is very turbulent. 

For the first half, everything is fairly smooth.

You get sick, and Jungwon holds your hair back. You have mood swings, he tries his best to be empathetic. 

Jungwon knows enough to understand that these things are par for the course, so he’s supportive but not too concerned about your symptoms. 

You were around halfway through your pregnancy when the less than normal symptoms began.

Jungwon would come home from practice to you sitting in a completely dark room. 

‘Why are you sitting in the dark?’

Your head was in your hands, unable to be lifted.

‘I have the worst migraine I think I have ever had,’ you whine, ‘I have taken as much paracetamol as I am allowed. I had a bath in the dark, put a cold cloth on my forehead. Wonnie it’s so bad, I can barely see..’

Jungwon holds you, massaging your head until you fall asleep hours later. 

When the headaches and vision problems persist, you make an emergency appointment. 

‘Bed,’ Jungwon practically pushes you up the stairs when you get home, supervising and making sure you were changing into comfortable clothes and getting under the covers. 

Your intense headaches turn out to be preeclampsia. Although at the moment Serin was measuring well, the doctor had warned you of the potential complications, including preterm labour or low birth weight. 

You’d been ordered to take strict bed rest. 

For the remainder of your pregnancy, Jungwon waits on you hand and foot. 

He’s suddenly fussing over you, messing with your pillows and cushions. He brings up your food on trays, eating every meal beside you. The two of you tear through countless shows on a plethora of streaming services. He holds you when you cry in frustration. He holds your hand when the doctor visits every week.  

‘Baby, it’s ready,’ Jungwon enters your bedroom, approaching the bed.

‘Really?’ you warm with excitement at the prospect of getting out of bed, ‘can I see?’

Jungwon helps you get up, wrapping an arm around your waist to help you walk. 

He leads you down the corridor and into your daughters nursery, which he, Jay and Heeseung had spent all day decorating.

‘Oh, it’s beautiful,’ hot tears spring to your eyes, ‘you guys.. It’s exactly how I imagined.’

‘She’ll be in there so soon,’ Jungwon lays a hand on the rail of the crib, ‘and no matter what happens, she’ll be fine.’

[wholoveseggs]

Maybe an elijah x Reader where the Reader is a bit shy about sex and really wants to try out face riding, but is insecure about her weight like that she's scared she'll hurt him or something like that. So somehow elijah finds out (for example thru a dream which he enters) and does it, but she'll try to pull away at the beginning still scared of hurting him and he'll pull her down.

If possible with lots of praise, overstimulation, elijah being dominant, hand kink, sir kink, elijah being a sweetheart, and aftercare?

Soft

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You've been dating Elijah for a while, but your insecurities keep you from taking things further. But one night, Elijah finally gets the chance to show you how much he loves your curves.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @magicaleaglecloud, I've written a similar fic on this subject called Reminder, but I love this idea so much I'm happy to write more. ♡♡

♡♡ This once again goes out to all my thick thighed brothers and sisters! ♡♡

3.4k words - Warnings: smut, fluff, oral sex, sex dreams, insecure reader, body issues, soft dom!elijah, slight sir!kink, face sitting, fingering, little bit of spanking, tinsy bit of overstim, a fun history fact about beauty standards, praise, kisses & lots of sweetness ♡♡♡

You were beyond nervous, and it showed. You and your boyfriend Elijah Mikaelson had been dating for the last year, and while you loved each other and you wanted to sleep with him, you had been putting it off.

It wasn't anything to do with him, of course. It had everything to do with your insecurities. You didn't fit the current beauty standard. You weren't as skinny as some of the girls Elijah had been with before you. Your hips and thighs touched, you had a stomach, and your breasts were bigger than you liked.

And while you had seen Elijah's eyes roam your body whenever you were with him. You couldn't help but wonder if he secretly felt the same.

You knew you couldn't hold off forever. The thought of being so naked and exposed was beyond scary. But you wanted to be with him in every sense of the word. And you knew you needed to get over yourself.

The plan was to stay the night at his place, a big step for the two of you. You would be spending the night with him. Sleeping in the same bed. And maybe, hopefully, doing other things.

You spent far too much time getting ready, making sure your skin was as flawless as possible, and your hair was just right. You packed the sexiest sleepwear you owned, a deep blue satin nightgown that fell mid-thigh.

Elijah had made reservations at your favorite restaurant, and the entire meal had been magical. Although, you didn't want to eat a lot in front of him. There was always so much shame around your body, and you didn't want him to see it.

"So I'm thinking we can have some wine and relax. Maybe watch a movie or two," Elijah said as he parked the car in front of his house.

"Sounds great." You smiled and took a breath, trying to calm yourself down.

He took your hand, sensing your unease, you were so beautiful and lovely, and he couldn't understand why you were so hard on yourself. He never wanted you to feel that way.

The evening had been perfect. You watched movies, you talked, and you drank the wine, and you felt the tension slowly slipping from your body. He kissed you and it had quickly grown passionate, his lips moving down your neck and you moaned his name.

You weren't sure how it happened, but he was suddenly on top of you, and the feel of his large frame pressed into yours had been amazing. But you felt your anxiety start to bubble to the surface.

"Elijah, wait," you said softly, gently pushing against his chest.

"What's wrong?" He asked, immediately concerned.

"I'm sorry, it's nothing. I just...can I have a moment?" You said, feeling a mix of embarrassed and scared.

"Of course," he said, getting up and allowing you to move from the couch. "Let's go back to the bedroom. We don't have to do anything."

"I'm sorry." You said as he pulled you into his arms, kissing the top of your head.

"Darling, there is nothing to be sorry about." He said, leading you to his bedroom. "Why don't you get ready for bed? I'm going to take a shower," he said, sensing that you needed a moment alone.

You smiled, feeling like you could breathe. You loved him so much. You were so lucky to have him.

You changed into your nightgown and pulled out your lotion and went about the process of rubbing it into your legs and arms.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in his floor length mirror, and your insecurities came rushing back.

The material clung to you in all the wrong ways. It hugged your hips and stomach and breasts. You frowned, hating the sight. You quickly pulled the blankets down and crawled into bed. There was no way you could let him see you like this.

You tried not to cry, feeling such shame and humiliation, you decided to just sleep and pretend the evening didn't happen.

When Elijah returned, you had fully fallen asleep. He frowned slightly, wishing he could read your mind, wishing he could know what to say. You were so beautiful. How could you not see it?

He slipped into bed beside you and smiled when you instinctively curled into him. You looked so peaceful, and he didn't have the heart to wake you.

The blankets were pulled down a bit, the swell of your breasts clearly visible. And it was impossible not to look.

He loved your body. He loved your curves. He loved the way you felt in his arms. So soft and warm.

You made a quiet little noise and pressed closer to him, and he felt himself harden. It was impossible not to.

Your eyes were moving under your eyelids and your breathing was uneven. Your hands gripped at him, pulling him closer.

"Are you dreaming, my beautiful girl?" Elijah said, brushing the hair away from your face.

"Hmm, Elijah," you moaned quietly, your hips moving and pressing into him.

He smiled, curious about what was going on in your mind, wondering what you were dreaming about.

"Fuck," you said, moving your hips again.

He couldn't help it, he had to know.

His hand gently caressed the side of your face, and then he slowly pressed into your mind, feeling the sensations your dream was causing.

He saw you straddling his face, your hands gripping the headboard, and he could practically taste you on his tongue. You were completely unbidden, your beautiful body bouncing above him, and his large hands gripped your hips.

Elijah pulled out of your mind, groaning at the vision.

"Mm, please," you whimpered, and he was so tempted.

He looked down, your nipples were straining against the material of your gown. Your eyebrows arched, and you moved against him.

"Elijah." You sighed his name, and it was too much.

He couldn't possibly leave this fantasy of yours to the dream world. He had to give you what you needed.

He whispered your name, gently biting down on your earlobe, and you woke with a gasp.

"Elijah." Your voice was thick and sleepy, and it did things to him.

"Did you have a good dream?" He said, kissing along your neck and sucking lightly on your pulse point.

"Yes." You moaned, unable to deny it.

"Tell me," he said, pulling the blankets back, his hands roaming over your body.

"You...we..." You moaned, unsure of how to tell him.

He kissed down your neck, his hands moving down to grip your ass and pull you against him.

"You are so sweet and shy. It's adorable." He smiled, loving the way you blushed.

He started kissing his way down your body, and it was clear where he was headed. His hands dipped under your gown and pushed the material up and over your breasts.

"Elijah." You moaned, trying to cover yourself.

"No." He said, taking your wrists and placing them by your sides. "Don't hide from me. I want to see all of you."

You nodded, closing your eyes as he kissed along your breasts and took a nipple into his mouth. You moaned, arching up into him, loving the way he felt against you.

"So beautiful," he whispered, his lips ghosting over your skin.

He moved further down your body, and his hands gripped your thighs, gently pulling them apart. His lips ghosted over your stomach and you felt yourself tensing up.

"Elijah," you whispered, wanting to stop him, but the feel of his mouth so close to where you were aching for him was too much.

He gently bit down on the soft flesh of your thighs, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

"So fucking sexy." He said, looking up at you, his eyes full of lust.

"Wait," you said, sitting up and covering yourself, "I...you don't have to."

He pushed you back down, grabbing your wrists and holding them by your sides.

"Stop. Please, my love. Don't be ashamed." He said, kissing the swell of your stomach and moving further down.

"But..." you moaned, feeling his mouth between your legs, and your words died in your throat.

His mouth was gentle and slow, and he teased your clit, taking his time with you. His tongue moved in lazy circles, and he gently sucked, making you squirm and moan his name.

"Fuck, you taste so good." He groaned, loving the way you moved.

His fingers replaced his tongue and he pushed two inside of you. Moving up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

"Tell me what you like," he said, moving his fingers slowly, wanting to see what made you squirm.

"I like...when you do that." You gasped, his fingers moving deeper and hitting a spot that had you seeing stars.

He kissed along your neck, and he gently nipped at your pulse point, and he could feel your heartbeat quicken.

"You like my fingers baby?" He said, and his words were doing things to you.

"Mmhmm." You moaned, closing your eyes and giving in to the pleasure.

He started moving his fingers faster, curling them with each thrust. And then he pushed a third finger inside of you, stretching you open, and his thumb moved in slow circles over your clit.

"Fuck, oh god. Don't stop. Please." You begged, rocking your hips.

"You're so beautiful. I love the way you move." He said, his hand moving down to grip your thigh and hold you open.

"Please. Please. Fuck, I need..." You gasped, and his mouth covered yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth, and he swallowed your moans.

"You need to cum, is that it, sweet girl?" He asked, and you couldn't believe he was saying these things to you.

"Please, sir." You moaned, and the word slipped out before you could stop yourself.

He grinned, loving the way it sounded, and he wanted to hear it again.

"Cum for me, now." He said, his fingers moving faster, and his thumb pressing against your clit.

The combination was enough to send you over the edge, and the orgasm was powerful, leaving you a shaking mess, moaning his name.

You opened your eyes, and you could see him staring at you. Your cheeks flushed, and you closed your eyes.

"Open your eyes." He commanded, and you obeyed, meeting his gaze.

"There's my beautiful girl. Now, come sit on my face."

"What?" You were sure you heard him wrong.

"Sit on my face. Now." He repeated.

"I...um..." You started, but he cut you off, grabbing your hips and moving you above him.

"That's a good girl." He said, helping you place your knees on either side of his face.

You were trembling, scared that you were too heavy. That the angle was wrong. You wanted to cover yourself. You were so vulnerable like this.

"I said sit." He said, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you down onto his mouth.

"Oh god." You gasped, unable to control the movement of your hips as his tongue started to lick at you.

It was too much. You couldn't take it. Your hands gripped his hair, and his hands grabbed your ass, pulling you down onto him.

You didn't know how he was breathing, but he didn't stop. He smacked your ass hard and growled, and the vibration was intense.

"Good girl, just like that." He said, and his praise went straight to your core.

You moved against him, not caring how desperate you looked, or how unsexy you must have appeared.

"That's it, fuck my face. Take what you need." He said, watching as your body responded to him.

You didn't even know it was possible to orgasm again that quickly, but his tongue was magic, and you were falling apart above him.

You grabbed the headboard, unable to hold back, and his fingers dug into your hips.

"Fuck, I can't. Elijah." You moaned, and the orgasm was more intense than the first one.

Your body was shaking, and he didn't stop. His tongue moved inside of you, and his nose brushed against your clit, the sensation overwhelming.

"Too much!" You said, trying to move away.

He held you in place, smacking your ass, and making you gasp.

"I decide when it's too much," he said, and there was something in his voice that left you shaking.

"Yes sir," you said, your voice a breathy whisper.

He groaned, his tongue moving faster. You moved your hips, matching his rhythm. And the next orgasm was so intense that your knees almost gave out.

"Such a good girl. Come here." He said, moving you down his torso so that your head was resting against his chest, and you were a sweaty, trembling mess.

His hands were all over your body, feeling every curve, every soft place. His lips moved against yours, and you could taste yourself on him.

You were still trying to catch your breath, and your entire body was shaking. You sat up, suddenly very self-conscious, your thick thighs straddling his waist.

"You are so sexy." He said, sitting up and kissing your neck.

"Really?" You asked, surprised and embarrassed, you never felt that way about yourself.

"You have no idea." He said, his hands moving down your back.

He gripped your ass, and his hips moved up, and you could feel his hard length pressing into you. The way his dark eyes watched you had you squirming. His hands moving to push the straps of your nightgown down.

"I want to see all of you. Can I take this off?" He asked, and he was so sweet and kind, and it only made you fall in love with him even more.

"Okay." You nodded, and his hands pulled the material up over your head, tossing it aside and exposing you completely.

"Perfect." He said, his eyes roaming your body.

"Elijah." You whined, covering your breasts, but he took your hands and held them at your sides.

"Let me look at you. I want to see how gorgeous you are. So beautiful." He said, his words were a complete contradiction to the way you felt.

"I'm not," you said, hating the way his eyes were taking you in.

Elijah shook his head, kissing you softly, his hands moved along your body, caressing every inch of you.

"You are." He whispered, and his words were almost convincing.

You shook your head, trying to pull away, but he wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

"Did you know that in the 16th century, women with curvy bodies were considered more beautiful than thin women? In fact, there is a painting from the 1700s by Antonio Canova called The Three Graces, and the figure on the right is considered to be the most beautiful because of her curves."

"Elijah." You couldn't help but laugh at him.

"My sweet girl, I am not trying to convince you of something that you are not ready to believe. But I will always find you the most beautiful woman in the world." He said, kissing your forehead.

You felt yourself blushing and tears were threatening to fall.

"Don't cry," he said, his hands moving along your back, trying to soothe you.

"I'm not, it's just..." you took a breath, unsure of what to say.

"Come here," he said, gently rolling you onto your back and positioning himself above you. "I can show you."

"What?" You asked, a little confused, but the look in his eyes had you curious.

"I can show you how much I love your body. If you'll let me."

"Yes," you nodded, knowing there was no way you could tell him no.

"Good girl." He said, and you could feel the blush on your cheeks.

He kissed you, his lips moving along your neck, and down to your breasts. He kissed each one and moved lower.

"I love the way your breasts fit in my hands." He said, gently kneading the soft flesh and sucking a nipple into his mouth.

"Elijah." You whimpered, and his hands moved to grab your ass.

"I love the way your curves fill out my hands." He said, moving lower and kissing the swell of your stomach, his fingers dipping into the indentation of your belly button, and making you giggle.

"Elijah, please."

"I love the way your thighs are soft and smooth." He said, gently biting the soft flesh and making you moan.

"I love the way your body responds to mine. The way you moan my name." He said, pushing his boxers off, and taking his hard length into his hand, and stroking himself.

"Elijah." You bit your lip, watching him.

"I love the way my cock fits perfectly between your legs." He said, spreading your legs and moving to rest his length against you.

"I love the way your hips are the perfect shape for my hands." He said, grabbing them and holding them tightly.

"I love the way my body feels against yours." He said, moving so that he was pressing into you.

He kissed you, and his hands moved to grab yours, holding them by the sides of your head.

"And I love the way my name sounds on your lips." He whispered, and his cock pushed into you.

He buried his face in your neck, his hands squeezing yours, and his body pressed into yours. You could feel every muscle tensing, and his heart racing.

"I love you, so much," he said, and the words had never been more real.

You wrapped your arms around him, and the moment was pure and uncomplicated. It was everything you needed, and more.

"Elijah," you sighed his name, and it was all the words you couldn't say.

He smiled, moving his hips slowly, his movements controlled and measured. You could feel every inch of him. You had never felt anything so amazing in your life.

You were overwhelmed, the feelings of pleasure mixing with the emotions coursing through your body. You could feel the tears slipping down your cheeks, and he wiped them away, kissing your face.

He pulled your legs back, pressing your knees to your chest, and his cock hit a spot that had you moaning.

"Good girl." He moaned, his thrusts growing faster, and the pleasure was almost too much.

Your body was shaking, and his movements were getting sloppy. His breathing was labored, and his words were a jumbled mess.

He reached down, his hand finding your clit, and he started rubbing slow circles, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

"Cum for me." He commanded, and the orgasm hit you hard, your nails digging into his back, and your legs wrapping around him.

"Eli-" You cried out, your voice high-pitched and needy.

His name was a breathy moan, and he could barely hold on. He needed you to cum, needed to feel you clenching around him.

"That's my girl." He moaned, his hips slamming into yours. You could feel him losing control, his cock pulsing inside of you.

He couldn't hold on, the pleasure was too much, and the way you were squeezing his cock had him tumbling over the edge.

His hand found yours, and he intertwined his fingers with yours, his hips slowing, and his eyes met yours.

You didn't know how long you stayed like that, just enjoying the closeness, and the way your bodies were entwined. You wanted to stay in the moment forever. You could feel his heart beating, and his breath on your skin. He eventually got up and grabbed a warm washcloth, cleaning you both, and then crawled back into bed, pulling you close, and wrapping you in his arms. 

"Are you okay?" He asked, and he was worried that maybe he had hurt you. That he had been too rough, or that he had pushed you too far. But you were smiling, and you were happy, and the way your body had responded to him was everything he had hoped for.

"Yes. I'm perfect." You said, and he could see the way the light was reflecting in your eyes, and the smile on your face. He kissed you, his hand cupping your face, and his tongue tangling with yours.

He made you feel so loved and cared for. He made you feel like you were the most important person in his life. Like nothing else mattered.

And for the first time, you felt worthy of his love. A love you always deserved.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[kifkay]

Winx & Specialists Dynamics that are so Precious to me

it makes sense that in the show, winx and their non-boyfriend specialists don’t interact much. but!! i’m very insane about codependent found families, and I want them all to love each other. so here’s my take on some tet-a-tet dynamics:

rare pairings:

Musa & Timmy: childhood frenemies. they used to go to the same middle school on Melody, and as type-A tweens do, had an intense, “you’re the only person I match myself to” kind of rivalry. they lost contact after Timmy moved away, chilled out considerably, reconnected in Alfea and had a wonderful banter-filled friendship since. because of how fast they slotted back into a friendship, some of their classmates genuinely thought they were siblings.

Tecna & Riven: got up from a rough patch. from “I dislike you but we both love Musa, so we have to be civil” to “you have more depths to you than I expected” to “now that I understand you, I can’t help but admire certain things about you” to “bitch, you are the only person who is as weird and clueless as I am, ARE YOU READY TO GO TO THE ARCADE AND ANNIHILATE KIDS FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES”

Flora & Brandon: little sister, older brother vibes. of similar temperaments and views, they enjoy spending time over a cup of tea — talking about everything and nothing. it’s therapeutic, almost.

(no one in the group knew that Brandon and Flo were good friends. once, when the two had to team up during a mission, Bloom couldn’t even finish saying: “it would be a good opportunity for you to get to know each ot-“, before the specialist-fairy duo were re-creating the most complicated and choreographed hand shake ever. jaws were on the floor.)

Aisha & Brandon: they are sporties, and they like doing sport things together! they don’t talk aside from exchanging brief encouragements and advice while out, preferring to spend their time in companionable silence. sorta like those dads who never talk to their buddies, but somehow have the strongest and longest bonds ever?

Helia & Bloom: artist besties. Bloom drags Helia out on picnics, where they practice observational drawing (and tiktok trends that Bloom desperately wants to reenact but none of the winx are good at arts); Helia responds by taking her out to see art museums in Magix. it’s a fun dynamic of Bloom being the bubbly gold retriever, and Helia being her black cat.

Tecna & Sky: they didn’t have much of a relationship until year 4. somehow, they both got really, intensely into weaponsmithing and built a joint workshop. they found that they enjoy working alongside each other and value each other’s insights. sky goes to tecna when he needs frank, un-sugarcoated advice, and tecna accompanies sky on hikes and other spirited adventures, for “bonding activities” (because he told her she doesn’t get out of her comfort zone enough). it’s a relationship of deep mutual respect.

Sky & Stella: childhood friends. they knew each other as children and enjoyed playing together (which is how Stella also knew Brandon pre-Red Fountaine). at least, until Stella was unofficially banned from Eraklyon because shenanigans, and they lost contact. they still jokingly call each other “My Lady” and “My Lord”.

Stella & Nabu. Both are flirty and extroverted people, who enjoy the spirit of showmanship. They have a friendly rivalry going of who can fluster the villain of the week the fastest.

canon bf-gf dynamics (dating in canon, open to interpretation otherwise):

Bloom x Sky: liked each other since the first meeting; bonded over being the friend group moms. (on unrelated note: bloom gentle parents her friends, while sky goes all exasperated cig mom on his team and repeats things like: “you better go to sleep right now, or so help me Dragon I will take away your Owl pilot privileges-“)

they are not the most outwardly affectionate couple of the winx, yet they are so wordlessly devoted to each other. sky will follow bloom to the ends of all dimensions, when she gets a calling from powers as mystical as she. bloom will always believe in him and see him as his own man, unlike the many who see him only as his father’s son. they were entwined by fate, long before one had met the other; yet, there’s the trust, the respect, the faith so strong — that could have only come from friendship forged and tested by fire.

Stella and Brandon: the hottest power couple; sole reason behind 60% of all student fairies/specialists/witches queer awakening.

they banter all. the. goddamn. time. these dorks are speaking a whole different language.

they are also most comfortable in each other’s company, being able to be their genuine, less polished selves. stella and brandon are both performers bred and born, playing the roles of a noble princess and a knight. it’s nice, to have a safe reprieve from all that acting.

Aisha and Nabu. their love was one that sneaked up on them. their distance, set by a discomfort at the idea of an arranged marriage, bridged as they transitioned from being reluctant comrades to friendly rivals to unwilling friends to best friends to “if someday the moon calls you by your name, don’t be surprised — because every night I tell her about you”

Tecna and Timmy: partners in crime, ride or die, sunny faith in each other — even when the other person doesn’t believe in themself. I have a whole post about them, go read that ;)

Flora and Helia: they are so. they are. they-

icons. the most romantic couple, the one that sets the standards, the one that gives their friends advice. they are extremely attentive to each other’s needs and tender with each other’s feelings.

flora can recite helia’s poems in her sleep, and trace his drawings with her eyes closed. helia brings mielle presents every time he stops by. flora has tea with helia’s dad every other tuesday; she keeps note of every time helia and saladin are supposed to meet up, to be able to whisk helia away after and distract him from his troubles. helia knows how to care of flora’s plants, and sends her lovingly assorted gift baskets semi-regularly.

Musa and Riven. their relationship is push and pull, is joy then sorrow.

it’s all in a drag of a cigarette, in the vortex of a starless night, in the hoarse laughter. “of all the people in the world, why did it have to be you?” she’ll say and smile.

“ I’m afraid we’re doomed, lover,” he’ll reply, faux-casually, and smile back. both of them will know it’s the truth.

their relationship was not built to last, not for the lack of love or try. maybe they were too similar — both headstrong, unbending, bleeding hearts. maybe they were just different enough not to understand their hurts. nevertheless, it was not built to last — but neither of them would ever bring to regret it. love prevails, no matter in what form in comes, or something like that.

[diorcities]

⠀   ⠀ ── ꒡⌓꒡ nct dream after sex ... 💭

nct dream nsfw headcanon. afab!reader. tw mature content. library.

... talks you through it.

for jeno and haechan, after sex with them are full of praises. the adrenaline rush releases a need to bathe you with compliments. their emotions are heightened, and the desire to tell you how good you make them feel is too much to keep it to themselves.

when jeno knew the reaction his deep voice had on you, the intimate moments began to fill with your moans and the raspy sound he uses to guide you all the way to your high. he feels ecstatic to see you so affected by his words. “such a good girl taking me well.” reaching your high quicker when he talks you through. “let me hear you. just like that, doll.”

haechan uses the softest tone to fill you with praises because he knows you like his voice when he talks you through your high. “f-fuck, so... pretty moaning my name.” besides, he would never miss an opportunity to turn you into a blushing and shy mess, even when he's out of breath just like you. “so pretty... c-cumming around me.”

... a lot of giggles.

for mark, renjun and jisung, after sex is filled with giggles. the moment is full of shyness and clumsiness which makes the atmosphere light and carefree; with them, having sex never stops feeling like the first time.

mark is so thrilled he gets too carried away and ends up chuckling with you because that's where the euphoria goes down and comes the awkwardness. he DIES of shyness and exhilaration due to the shot of ecstasy that overwhelms him. “shit.” chuckles “that was good.” chuckles, “so good, babe.”

with renjun, the adrenaline rush only leaves a sweet feeling of fullness with bubbly giggles. he always gets to that high point of intoxication where his mind buzzes. he eventually gets shy but quickly sheds it away when he sees you smiling with him. “did that feel nice?” giggles. “i feel good, too.”

for jisung, he doesn't know how long he's wanted to be like this with you, and when it finally happens he's so happy he feels like he's gonna explode with joy. sometimes he gets up with tears a little, but because of the swirls of emotions. “ah...” breathy laugh, “i think i need a moment. you were just too good.”

... love sounds.

for jaemin and chenle, after are made of sounds of love. they'll let you know how good it was; they're vocal about it, however, it is until the last breath that they become a mumbling mess, making these little sounds contained till the last possible moment.

jaemin makes sounds that seem as if they were premeditated. all heavy breathing and pants and it's not until he hears your last strangled moan that he suddenly uncovers a mess of suppressed throaty moans that he muffles in your neck while his body twitches. “oh... god... you did- perfect, baby.”

with chenle, it's more the expressions than the sounds he makes. he hums a lot and his face and eyes show good you are, but when he's close, everything intensifies and he urges strangled groans and jerks as the adrenaline rushes out of his body. “that was... fucking amazing.”

© diorcities.

[janeyseymour]

longing looks and stolen glances

summary: anon asked for this: Hi, idk if you're still taking requests but could you write something where Mel finds out R like her back and then they're all silly and sneaking around, stealing kisses, glances and a brush of fingers every chance they get, like absolute fluff? And then the other teachers start to notice how smug Mel looks, specifically around R? I love your fics!!

WC: ~2.15k

There was no way this way happening- and yet it was. The Melissa Schemmenti has you pressed up against your desk and is kissing you hungrily. It takes a second for your brain to jumpstart before your arms snake around her waist and pull her in closer to you. Her lingering perfume scent nearly has you in a trance. The way that she only pulls you even closer to her own body is… how is this where you are right now? This has to be some sort of dream.

But it isn’t. When you finally pull back in desperate need of air, red hair and green eyes are still right in front of you. Almost as if you’re expecting to be woken up from your dream, you pinch yourself. You squeak a bit, and that deep laugh that you’re always craving to hear echoes throughout the empty room.

“Think you’re dreaming or something?” your colleagues deep voice chuckles out.

You just nod, a blush creeping into your cheeks. “I didn’t think… is this real life?”

“It very much is,” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully. “I’ve had enough of that one camera man flirting with you.” She gives him a pointed look, as if to say, ‘Back off. She’s mine now.’

He nearly cowers.

You just laugh and pull her in again. “So… dinner?”

And that’s how the two of you started dating. After a brief meeting with the camera crew, they’re sworn to secrecy on your relationship. A threat that all of their equipment will somehow go missing and the documentary will no longer be a thing is enough for them to all promise the two of you that they won’t air any explicit evidence that the two of you are together.

“I don’t even want lingering looks,” Melissa states.

The camera man shakes his head at that. “Then maybe the two of you shouldn’t constantly be ogling each other. We’ve picked up on this for weeks, and Jeremiah flirting with Y/N was only a tactic to get the two of you to get your heads out of your asses. If this worked with the two of you… we’re wondering if it might do anything to finally get Gregory and Janine to face the truth of their relationship.”

“Jeremiah wasn’t really flirting with me?” you sound almost wounded. A light smack to your shoulder has you feigning hurt.

“Listen, Y/N,” the camera man laughs. “As beautiful as you are, you are not my type at all. And, I really don’t want the shit to get kicked out of me by your woman.”

As if to prove a point, your girlfriend wraps an arm around you and practically growls out a, “Mine,” before kissing your temple.

And so, your relationship stays a secret. Your girlfriend does everything she can to keep your relationship in this little bubble that the two of you have created. There isn’t any flirting (any flirting that could easily be detected by your friends and coworkers), you keep everything behind closed doors.

There are lingering kisses in the classroom when you’re positive that no cameras are around. You still sit with her and Barbara at lunch and at meetings so as not to throw off the groove that you’ve found yourself in. Sometimes, you’ll feel a feather light touch or a squeeze of the hand when Ava says something particularly ridiculous, but you’re able to keep your face straight, and no one is the wiser to these intimate moments that the two of you secretly share.

But as time goes on, it’s getting harder and harder to conceal the bond that the two of you have. At this point, you’re getting ready to move your things into her apartment permanently (as if you haven’t practically been living with her for months- you have a drawer of your things at her place), the two of you are often together after work and on weekends, and you’ve even been to a few of her family dinners.

“You bringing over a few more boxes tonight?” your girlfriend asks you as you enter the staff room. It alarms you that she would bring this up so casually, but then you realize that she is the only one at the school besides you.

You nod brightly and kiss her quickly, as if someone would walk in on you at any given moment.

“I was planning on it,” you chuckle. Then you pull away from her, although her fingers stay gently interlaced with yours. “Coffee?”

She nods enthusiastically and begins to pluck the mugs from their place. You let yourself watch her figure for a few seconds before you hear the door swing open and Jacob announce his entrance. Your eyes immediately flit down to the coffee grounds in your hand, and your body turns red at the thought that you might have just been caught staring at the second grade teacher’s ass. Thankfully though, you were not caught.

“Ooh!” Jacob grins at the sight of Melissa reaching for coffee cups. “Deal me in!”

You scoop a few more grinds out and dump them into the coffee machine before filling it with water and waiting for the warm drink to be ready. Meanwhile, Melissa fixes her cup so the cream and sugar are already in her cup, and she does the same for you.

You give her a sweet smile when she hands over your cup, and your heart can’t help but flutter when she squeezes your hip gently while Jacob is turned away.

She can’t help the smug grin off her face when the social studies teacher turns back around.

“Hey, why’d you do Y/N’s cup, but not mine?” Jacob whines, almost like a child.

“Because Y/N ain’t particular about hers the way that you are.” Green eyes are rolled. There is no truth in that statement whatsoever. You are extremely particular about how your coffee is prepared, but after many mornings of coffee shared between the two of you Melissa has learned. 

Jacob continues to pout, but he does nod along. It’s funny the way that he’s so wrapped up in his pouting that he misses the way you kiss her cheek and thank her softly.

The rest of the crew starts to trickle in, so you and your girlfriend take up your seats to watch the news together. At home, she almost always has her arm draped around the back of the couch, and you lean into her figure as you practically inhale the liquid gold that you need in order to function. But here? She still has her arm draped over the edge of the couch, but you don’t lean into her. Sure, you sit next to her, but you don’t let yourself relax into her. Instead, she quietly draws circles and different patterns on your shoulder as you and your friends watch the news. It’s warm and familiar, and something that you aren’t entirely expecting her to do with your colleagues so close, but you let that smile wash over your face. Her smug grin only brightens when she truly realizes everybody is so wrapped up in the news that they fail to notice. 

While things have begun to become more relaxed with the two of you out in public, you still haven’t outwardly said anything about the relationship between the two of you. It’s like if you speak it into existence, the bubble will pop. So, you continue to just do things a bit more subdued with the crew around. 

The two of you know that whenever you’re at the school, there is pretty much a guarantee that you’re being filmed in one way or another- except for in the safe haven of the bathrooms. So often, you and Melissa sneak away to the staff bathrooms to steal a few kisses or discuss plans for after work.

But to everyone else, you’re just two peas in a pod- the way that you have been. You still sit together and lunch, in the morning, at staff meetings… have your classes do a few things together throughout the year.

Or at least… that’s what you think. The two of you think that you’re hiding this relationship wonderfully. Honestly, at this point, neither of you would care if they were to find out. It’s kind of become common knowledge outside of work that the two are you together, so you both forget to come out to your work friends entirely. You just know that even if you were out at work, the looks and touches would still be relatively rare- keep things as professional as possible.

The truth is, the others have begun to pick up on things. They’ve noticed that you’re almost always following Melissa around with the look of a puppy dog. They’ve taken into consideration that she always fixes your coffee mug- no one else’s, not even Barb’s. They see the way that instead of directing looks that would normally be shot to the camera are instead stolen glances between the two of you. They aren’t as dense as they’re playing to be- there is something going on between the two of you.

And Barbara Howard is going to get to the bottom of it.

There is one day specifically, during professional development, where the two of you are practically glued to each other- and unbeknownst to them, it’s been exactly six months since the two of you started dating.

The longing looks, the little squeezes here and there, it’s all so… domestic. Even just sitting in the library as Ava drones on about only God knows what, the two of you are like giggling school girls, making excuses to touch and look at each other.

And then when you’re all excused for the afternoon to work on whatever you have to do in your classrooms, Melissa is guiding you out with a tender hand on the small of your back. You instinctively reach behind you and give her hand a light squeeze of endearment.

Of course, the two of you cozy up in her classroom, fully ready to finish up on some grading that you’re behind on. Fingers are interlocked as you grade and she types on her computer with one hand while Barbara rounds up the rest of the group.

“You all have noticed that Y/N and Melissa are quite cozy together, yes?” the kindergarten teacher asks her friends as they take their lunch break.

“Someone jealous their work wife is taken with the newbie?” Mr. Johnson asks.

“Not jealous,” Barbara sighs. “Just… curious. I think the two of them are hiding something from us.”

The camera crew all glance around. They wouldn’t interfere- not unless they wanted their cameras to go missing. So instead, they just pull each of the staff members out to interview them separately.

And together, everyone is convinced that the redheaded teacher and you are up to something- that there’s something going on between the two of you.

Mr. Johnson flat out tells the camera crew that he knows you’re dating. That he watched you kiss Melissa as you were heading out of her classroom one day.

So, with that, the crew decides to push this storyline a bit- they still aren’t outwardly telling your colleagues of the relationship, but just… implying that maybe this is something they should investigate further.

And they do. Nothing comes out that day, but the rest of your friend group is on high alert when the two of you are around. They continue to play dumb, to not notice the little lingering looks, the touches, the way that Melissa couldn’t be more smug when she’s around you.

They pretend as if they couldn’t be clued in at all until one day, a few months later, Barbara has had enough. You and Melissa are sharing lunch, and her hand rests gently on your upper thigh as you converse about your mornings.

“For God’s sake, ladies,” Barbara finally explodes. “Can we stop ignoring the obvious?!”

“Barb, what?” you flinch slightly at her tone. You feel Melissa pull her hand away.

“The two of you!” the kindergarten teacher exclaims. “I can’t take any more pretending that we don’t all know that you’re together! So, out with it!”

Melissa’s face turns red as she looks to you. “Babe?”

“Babe?!” Jacob screeches. “You two are at the point of calling each other ‘babe’?!”

Realization dawns on your face. You never told your work friends. It had become so… normal that you just forgot to tell your coworkers that the two of you were together. “We- we never told you guys.”

“No, you most certainly did not!” Barbara states. “So, admit it! The two of you are seeing each other romantically!”

You look sheepishly at the redhead, as if asking for permission for your next move. At her nod, you hold up your left hand. “Not only are we together… we got engaged last night.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo

[lovifie]

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 9: Soap’s Date

Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

W: Soap x Reader (+ Ghost), sex on the exterior, lots of butt stuff, oral sex, anal sex, phone sex, Soap being an absolute mutt as usual, voyeurism. I think that's it.

“Tell me again, Johnny.” You say yawning, looking back at Johnny as he finishes getting everything in the car. “Why are we leaving so early? The sun is not even out.”

“Because, mo ghraidh, I only have a day with you for myself alone.” He says once he has secured everything, he closes the boot and opens the driver's side door to sit down behind the steering wheel before he keeps talking. “And we have already wasted 4 hours.”

“I wouldn't call it waste, you know? Taking into consideration humans are supposed to sleep 8 of them.” You say chuckling when you see him pout and you move your arm over his seat to rest your forearm on his shoulder and caress the back of his head. 

“Do you no longer love me, bonnie?” He asks, dramatically sighing and covering his eyes with a hand. 

You playfully slap his shoulder. “If the military ever fails you should pursue a career in acting, Johnny.”

“Will you be my date when I get my second Oscar?” He asks, completely dropping the act of being sad to look at you smiling.

“Your second?” You ask chuckling.

“Yeah, sorry, I already promised my first to Gaz.” He admits, making you laugh out loud. 

“Fine, fine. Second Oscar for me then, got it.” You say smiling, taking your arm back to fasten your seatbelt when Soap does the same.

The sun is just starting to rise by the time he turns off the engine at the top of the cliff. 

“What you think?” He asks, smiling when you lean down resting on the dashboard to see more clearly. 

“Almost as pretty as you, Johnny.” You say cheeky winking at him.

“Hey, you stole my line!” He complains, a little pink blush on the top of his cheeks. He opens his door to get out making you chuckle at his escape attempt. 

You try to open your door, setting a foot outside just to be pushed back inside by a hand on your face. Once you are back inside he closes the door, waits a second and opens it back again holding a hand for you 

“Oh, my. Such a gentleman, Johnny.” You say sarcastically making him chuckle. 

“I know, right?” He says with a boyish smile that makes you want to squish his face. 

You finally step out, letting him close the door behind you. He goes to the back, opens the boot and hands you the bag with food so he can take the tent out. 

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to sleep in the car?” You ask, seeing him pick up everything else.

“To sleep maybe, but to do to you what I'm planning to do… the tent is better.” He says, winking at you and making you blush this time. 

“Oh, wait, what you said yesterday…” you trail off.

“I meant it.” He says chuckling. “As long as you want, of course.”

“Yeah, no, that's not it…” you say, a nervous feeling bubbling up in your stomach. He quickly catches it, dropping everything on the floor and walking up to you, cupping your face with his hands and kissing you softly. “Don't worry your pretty head about the bureaucracy, love. I'll make sure to eat you out long, and sweet, and nicely.” He says between kisses making you melt in his hands. “And I'll make you cum again, and again, and again. I'll get all soft and needy, by the time I get my dick in your tight little ass you'll be such a mess the only thing you'll be able to think it's about how good it feels.” He says, looking at your eyes. “Sounds good?” He asks, and you quickly nod as if you couldn't feel your panties starting to get moist. “Perfect, let's get everything set.”

He pats your head with a kiss to your forehead and picks everything back up, turning around the car to where he wants to set the tent and you are left stunned for a moment before you pick yourself up and walk after him.

He sets up the tent with ease, giving you orders to help him when a second person is needed (not that he couldn't set it on his own, he could easily. But he uses it as an excuse to walk behind you, grinding against you as he does; his hand travelling up and down your body) and by the time the tent is ready and everything is tidy; you are already an absolute mess. Grumpy with need and bothered by his apparent lack of effect.

“What has your knickers on a twist, bonnie lass?” He asks, chuckling when he sees your arms crossed.

“You!” You say simply, sitting down on the mattress. 

“Me?” He asks smiling, laying down next to you propping his head on his flexed arm. “Or the thought of me fucking you silly, mo ghraidh?”

“Johnny!” You exclaim, trying to slap his chest but he catches your hand pulling you on top of him. “Don't be nasty…”

“Oh, love. Don't play coy on me now, I know you love it when I speak pure filth to you.” He says, his hand pulling your leg up so you are resting closer to his face. “Am I wrong?”

You advert his gaze, looking at his hand on your thigh. “I don't know what you are talking about…”

He laughs, shaking you with him. “You are a smart girl to try that with me, if you tried that with Price he would have you crying already for spanking you like a brat, you know?”

“You sound like you are speaking from experience, Johnny boy.” You joke smiling looking at him, thinking he is just bluffing.

“Oh, I do.” He answers right away, smiling at the memory. You look at him with an eyebrow raised, the mental image of Soap lying on Price's lap getting his ass beat is interesting if anything. “Ha… you wanna see it, don’t cha, nasty girl?”

“You know what? I may get you in trouble just to see it.” You joke, saying it only to get a raise out of him. 

“Keep being naughty, and I'll be the lucky one seeing it.” He says, grabbing a handful of your asscheek and gripping it hard until you whine about it. Feeling as if you just got slapped on the ass without the kinkiness of it. “Take off your clothes, love.”

It takes you by surprise the sudden change in action. “Like that? Just… straight at it?” You ask, a bit dumbfounded.

“Well, we can go on a hike if you prefer it.” He says chuckling when you put a disgusted expression on your face. “Then get naked.”

You oblige, trying to keep the facade of mild annoyance, while he takes his clothes to sit down and you can't help but stare at his jet to get hard dick. 

“You are not even turned on, Johnny.” You say, looking at him with a smirk. “Need a hand?”

“Oh, no, don't even worry about it, love. It's just a matter of time, and the earliest I get my mouth on you the earlier it'll get hard.” He says smiling, his hands pulling you closer and down on your stomach on the mattress. 

“Wait.” You say, propping yourself on your elbow to look back at him. He raises his eyes that were looking at your naked ass to look at your face with a worried expression. “If I don't…”

“If you don't like it.” He cuts you off, leaning forward close to your face. “I stop. If you don't like the ass attention but want to keep going I'll humbly go apeshit crazy on your godly cunt and if you simply are not in the mood for action, I'll go behind a tree and fuck my fist like a monkey.” He says, exaggerating his choice of words to make you smile; you cup his face when he gives you a peck looking into your eyes for reassurance. “Alright, love? Talk to me, alright? I'll have my mouth busy, not my ears.” He jokes, taking away the little nervousness left on your body. “Get your ass up, on your knees. I want to taste that delightful cunt of yours, love.”

You smile, softly slapping his face with playfulness and get on your hands and knees, bending down and crossing your arms to rest your head on them; arching your back leaving Soap the full view of your cunt and ass when you slightly spread your legs. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, birdie. What kind of ring do you want? I'll buy it for you tomorrow, you just gotta ask.” He mumbles, feeling his breath getting closer and closer to your wetness. A sigh escapes your mouth when you feel his tongue go flat from your mount up to your ass leaving a kiss on the small of your back at the end. “Fucking delicious, bonnie.”

He does again, and again, and again; you look between your legs and you see a glob of your arousal mixed with his spit stretching down from your cunt right onto the tip of his hardening tip making him grunt at the same time you moan because of the filth of the image. 

He plants both his hands on your ass, spreading it to have better access to your crying cunt; shoving his face against it but still delightfully slow. It catches you by surprise the calmness with which he is doing it, it is still by no way methodical, but it is not as chaotic as you expected. It's slow, tongue hard against your fold making you feel every twitch of the muscle and groans that leave his throat which accompanied by the way he’s thrusting the air unconsciously makes you wonder who is enjoying more. You feel your orgasm approach, surprising you again, there has not been an increase in the speed or a change of focus from him. Just lazy swipes of his tongue on your cunt up to your asshole, but you shudder when you come; ecstasy flooding your nerves and making you moan his name. But it's not the kind of orgasm that leaves you shaking and silly-minded, is the type that makes you move your hips back looking for more, angry at the betrayal of your body for coming so fast.

“That's a good fucking girl.” Soap groans against your pussy and you hear the smile on his voice. “Thank you for coming so fast, dear. I couldn't wait to get my tongue inside your ass.” He says, biting down on your asscheek making you whine. 

He moves back, sitting down between your legs and he moves his hands under your body pulling you back against his face before he licks right on your hole. You moan at the feeling, the nastiness of it all only fueling the pleasure. “Ghost is going to be so fucking jealous I get your arse all for myself, birdie. You have no idea.” 

“Fuck, Johnny…” you moan, pussy throbbing at the lack of attention. You try to reach it with your hand, needing to feel something inside. 

“Now, what in the hell do you think you are doing?” He asks, annoyance in his voice when he slaps your hand, your pussy getting slapped in the process as well making you hiss. “Are you so greedy you can't even let me get my fair share of your ass? You just came, birdie. You just can't simply wait to get stuffed, right?” 

You whine, too embarrassed to admit it but horny enough to push your ass back against him. He lands a hard smack on your ass making you cry, grabs both of your hands making you rest your body weight on your face when he moves them both behind your back and dives back on your ass making you moan.

He has you bent almost in half, your thigh pressed against your chest squishing your tits which Soap takes to his advantage when he starts to thrust forward rubbing his tip between them almost edging himself with the light touch. 

He groans against your asshole, the tip on his tongue probing again and again, slowly but surely getting deeper until you feel his teeth on your skin, tongue as deep as possible making your eyes roll back when he moves it in and out, thrusting his tongue onto your ass. 

His tip pouring a droplet of precum down between your tits up to your neck like a delicate necklace and you twist your wrist needing to grab his hand. He interlocks his fingers with yours, and if the situation was different you would laugh at how it feels more intimate to feel his hand on yours than to feel his tongue inside of you. 

You are a babbling mess by the time he decides he has had enough, mind so blurry you can't even tell if you came again. He ate your pussy as if he was kissing it, soft, gentle and calm. But at some point after that, when your ass got into the mix, it changed into a Soap with almost a primal need to get as deep as possible inside of you. 

He lays you on your stomach, still not letting go of your hands. You hear him look for something in the bags, and he drops it beside your head a second later. You turn your head to the side and you see what he found; a bottle of lube and his phone currently on a call. 

“Who-” You question get cut off by a gasp when you feel Soap's tip rub your clit.

“Pickup, c’mon, pickup, pickup, pickup.” You hear Soap mumble over you, the ringing of the call still going. 

“What, Johnny?” The unmistakable sound of Ghost's voice erupts from the phone and you furrow your eyebrows.

“Fucking finally, Lt. Look out the window, now.” The scotsman orders, which makes the mancunian chuckle at the desperation. 

“Johnny, what are you-” Your question gets cut off by a moan that could easily classify as a scream when Soap bottoms out inside of your cunt in one swift thrust. The stretch making little white dots appear on your vision and you damn well if you were not dripping with arousal he would have broken you in two. 

“Oh, hi, birdie. I see you are having fun.” Ghost says chuckling. “Go easy on her, Johnny.”

“I can't…” Soap mumbles, his head resting on top of yours. “So fucking tight, I just know her ass is going to choke my dick so nice.” 

The two men talk about you as if you were not even there, the stinging sensation quickly dissipates when he starts to thrust; slowly as if asking for forgiveness for his lack of control just a moment ago. 

Soap bends down, moving a hand under your jaw to pick your head up. “Look at the window, birdie.” He says. You are completely confused for a second, barely able to see the building in the distance, let alone a window. “Do it, Ghost.” 

In that second, an almost missable flint of lights appears on one of the windows catching your attention. “Do you see me, birdie?” Ghost asks through the phone. “Because I can see you.”

Soap groans over you. “Oh, she sees you, Lt.” He chuckles. “And by the way she's clenching. She likes it.”

“Aww, does our little bird like to be watched?” Ghost coos, amusement in his voice. 

“Hmm, ‘s you.” You mumble between moans, struggling to articulate the words.

“What is it, love?” Soap asks, bending down to kiss your shoulder as his hips slowly stop to let you talk.

“I like it… cause is you…” You half whine, embarrassed to say it more clearly. But it is more than enough for Ghost, who feels his heart and dick throb at the declaration. 

“Johnny.” He groans.

“Yes, Lt?” Soap answers, same struggle as you.

“Do me a favour… fuck her nice… and turn on the camera.”

“Gladly, sir” He says straightening himself, picking up the phone and the lube on his way. He turns the camera on, pointing it to where the two of you are connected; opens up the lube bottle before dropping a blob over your asshole.

“I bet you wish this was you, ah?” Johnny smiles as he teases Ghost, his thumb pressing down on your hole slowly before entering with ease thanks to the lube and the fact you are already fucked out of your mind. 

You moan softly when he does, pressing his finger down against the thin wall between his finger and his dick that is still inside of you. He grabs your asscheek, thumb still inside, spreading you for Ghost to see. 

“You are a bloody lucky bastard, Johnny.” You hear Ghost groan, sounds of clothes being moved around can be heard from the phone. “But don't test it.”

He removes the thumb, getting his index in instead; moving it in when he moves his dick back, and the finger out when he moves his dick in. It's such an alien feeling, the stinging from the stretch long gone and replaced with the arousal of his finger and dick moving in and out.

“Hold the phone for me, love.” Soap says before changing the camera to front view, you hold it over your shoulder letting Ghost see the way Soap is working you open on his fingers. 

Soap grabs the lube again, spurring it over his finger generously before adding a second one; the phone shaking on your phone when you moan at the stretch. He scissors his fingers opening you up, his dick still moving slowly inside of your drenched cunt; more to keep your mind busy with pleasure than for his own. 

There is something so filthy about the whole ordeal, doing something “prohibited”, the sound of Soap shaking the lube bottle, the sound of the lube being squished onto your body, the sound of his fingers fucking it inside of you, the sound of your pussy sucking his dick in. 

He takes his time, making sure you are stretched nicely and loose, wanting to make you feel nothing but pleasure when he finally fucks you. It takes him four fingers inside of you to feel like you are ready for him. By that time, you are an absolute mess; using every bit of strength left to hold the phone. 

And your mind can't help but wonder about how it would be if Ghost was also in the tent, if Soap was not opening you up for himself but for his lieutenant. How it would be to be in between the two men.

“Johnny…” you moan, desperate for more. “Please…”

“Sshhh, birdie.” He shushes you when you cry for him. “I know, baby, I know.” He bends down, kissing your back and slowly taking his fingers out. “I'm gonna do it slowly, alright? Don't hold your breath, just relax.”

You nod eagerly, needy of the feeling of his hips hitting yours. Johnny moves your hand with the phone, holding it down so he can see your face on the screen when he fucks you. 

And when his tip catches your puffy hole, your eyes close and your jaw falls open leaving your mouth in an o shape. But you do just as he said, relaxed taking deep breaths as you feel the man split you open. 

“C’mon, bonnie lass. Let me in.” Soap grunts in your ear when you clench down out of pleasure. He kisses your neck, under your ear, making your eyes roll as you bite your lips; relaxing and allowing him to keep pushing his hips. 

Mumbles can be heard from the phone, the man struggling to stay quiet at the sight of his lovers getting their brains fuck out together. He has had his dick out for a while now in the solitude of his office, not wanting to touch it leaving it red and angry. But the sounds of your and Soap's moan in harmony is enough to have him fisting his dick, squeezing his tip, milking the firsts bead of precum out of it.

Soap thrust shallowly, wanting to move but hating the thought of leaving your warm body. You can feel him drool on your shoulder blade and you would make fun of him if you weren't on the same train. 

“Let me see it, Johnny.” Ghost grunts, the sound of spitting in the background of the call.

Soap whines, hating his devotion to the british man that makes his body move before he can acknowledge it. He holds your thigh raising it and turning you to lay on your side with a leg in the air and Soap lying behind you. He picks the phone from your hand, resting it on the lube bottle so Ghost can see the way he fucks you and both their faces at the same time. 

Ghost groans at the sight, his fist moving faster; the image on the phone shaky with the speed at which he fucks his hand. But the way you moan when Soap begins to thrust inside and out of you is enough to have Ghost pull his head back with a groan. 

Soap sees the way you furrow your eyebrows, such an exquisite feeling but still needing the extra stimulation of a hand on your clit. And you have been such a good girl? How can he not obey your needs when you have been so good? 

So he uses his lubed hand, trapped under your body, and moves it down to rest on your puffy clit, rubbing circles on it. Slowly at first, just as his thrusts; rising up the speed of both at the same time. 

It has you curling your toes, moaning his name to the cliff just outside the tent. He locks his arm under your knee, pulling it closer leaving you even more exposed and he starts to kiss your body. On your knee, your thigh, your temple, your cheek. He can barely do it, just smearing his spit-covered lips over your body leaving a sticky trail of saliva over you; whining when he can’t manage to kiss you on your lips fast enough. 

Ghost is edging himself, he knows it, he's slouched on the chair; having slipped down on it when thrusting up to his fist. His feet hurt with the way they are arched to keep him seated and his elbow is in an awkward position under the armrest. Still, his hand is moving so fast is just a blurry image and he knows that the moment either of you comes he'll follow.

So when he finally hears you moan, loudly enough that if he wasn't on a phone call he would have heard it from the window, making Soap grunt as he bites down on your shoulder as he comes as well deep inside of you. Ghost can't help it but to moan, throwing his head back, phone falling on his chest as he needs the extra hand not to fall from the chair as he cums over his hand and onto his abdomen. Phone rising with his breath, finally seeing the way your legs shake after you cum; Soap letting your leg down to rest and hugging you tightly against him as he kisses your face. Smiling when he sees you melt into his arms, and the two of you look like cats grooming each other. 

“Thank you for calling, Johnny. Enjoy your date, birdie.” He says, still breathing hard before hanging up, struggling to find the energy to clean up and get back to work. 

“You did so good, birdie.” Soap says, kissing your cheek. “Did you like it, lovie?”

You nod, unable to speak with your eyes unfocused on the ceiling of the tent. “Yeah… yeah I did…”

He chuckles behind you, kissing you again and again, his softening cock still inside of you and with no plan of leaving. 

It turns into a comfortable silence, enjoying each other warmth. You look up to him, smiling when you see him look down at you with a stupid smile on his face. You cup his face, smiling fondly when he leans into the touch. “Johnny…” you call, only getting a “hm?” as an answer. “Is it weird if I think I'm starting to fall in love with you guys?” You say, before realising you have just declared your feeling to most likely the worst of them to do so. Especially when you see his face shine in mischievousness, he laughs loudly before crushing you in a bear hug that has you ready to hear a bone pop. 

“AW, BIRDIE, I CAN'T WAIT TO TELL EVERYONE YOU LOVE ME THE MOST!”

“JOHNNY, THAT'S NOT WHAT I SAI-”

Your attempt to defend yourself gets crushed when Soap kisses you harshly, making you whine and letting his tongue inside of your mouth. It is not much longer before you feel his dick get back ready into action, and let's just say you were really glad that Soap packed isotonic drinks for when you are finished that day.

Hi, my lovelies!! 💗💗💗

How have you been?

I already have the next one written, hehe. My plan is to write the rest and post it as I go, maybe work on some requests. Those of you waiting for Spidey and the new series, please just be as patient as you have been for this one it really means a lot to me ❤️

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[leclarifies]

off the grid - III

✰ max verstappen x !driver reader ✰

summary: you strived for nothing but perfection. nothing less was expected from you. being a female formula one driver made it even harder for you to make mistakes. you figured that dating max, your biggest rival yet, wasn't a mistake...right...?

genre: kinda slow-burn? mostly angst, eventual fluff at the end.

wc: 5.3k

a/n: hi, i have been VERY busy HAHAHA. not proofread or checked for grammar mistakes bc i wanted to push this part out asap, please excuse any spelling mistakes. thank u so much for reading

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"(monaco) oklahoma, you made a man out of me." - lany, 'cowboy in l.a'

all you remembered was the screaming.

the glass shattering.

your mother reaching out for you as you curled up into a ball on the floor.

you had your hands covering your eyes, you were just 16 after all.

"you're insane! we promised not to fight in front of our child, now you're throwing things at me?" your mother had yelled, you squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting anything to do with it.

"if you were the one fucking men behind my bed, then i wouldn't be throwing shit at you!" your father retaliated, throwing another glass that narrowly hit your face.

why was this happening to you?

"if wouldn't have cheated if you just paid attention to this family falling apart for once!" your mother had left your side to go and physically fight with your father.

you were in the corner of the room, back facing them as you endured all the fighting.

"stop it! i hate you guys fighting, STOP IT!"

when was this going to end?

a gasp escaped your lips as you sat up from the nightmare. it's been happening a lot recently.

your throat was dry, sweat dripped down your forehead as you assessed where you were and what was happening.

there was a indescribable feeling that specific nightmare gave you, and you couldn't place your finger on it.

maybe it was when all of your childhood trauma started, the first ever fight you had witnessed from your parents, or maybe that was when you realized that you chasing your dreams was a little heavy on the family expenses.

you didn't know.

all you knew right now was that you hated the way it made you feel, how it made your skin crawl, how it raised goosebumps on the nape of your neck.

"are you alright?" max's soft and sleepy voice emerges from his bedroom, and that's when you finally recognized where you were. he had heard shouts of distress, knowing that it was you in another nightmare.

you turned your head slightly to meet his eyes, his soft blue sleepy eyes that were flashed with concern and worry. words were stuck in your throat as you tried to get them out, but all that came out were pathetic sobs.

you curl up in a similar position that you once knew all too well, and sobbed while hugging your legs. max was quick to jump to your side, stroking your head as he usually does and asks you what was wrong but the words wouldn't come out. a mixed feeling of regret and self-pity bubbled up in your chest as max captures you in a hug.

all you could do was sob in his shoulder.

"it's okay, i'm here. nothing can hurt you anymore. i'm here," max spoke softly as you tried to come down from the nightmare.

"i-... max—"

"shh, it's okay. i'm here, you're okay."

you didn't want to be a burden to anyone anymore, and tonight, you were feeling everything like being a burden to everyone.

"her expenses are getting out of hand, we cannot keep fueling her karting career if this goes on," your mother had been whispering under her breath but you could hear her, hiding behind a wall. you freshly turned 17.

"she is chasing her dreams, i am not letting you rip that away from her," your father sternly spoke to your mother.

"she is nothing more than a burden to our expenses, can't you see? she will never get far in karting, women never do. stop fueling her delusions like this, it's not good for anyone or anything," your mom interjected again as she throws the bills into the kitchen counter.

you never knew that your mother had felt that way about your karting career. it hurt.

more than the comments of the boys on the grid.

because at the end of the day, even your own mom didn't believe in you.

why should you believe in yourself?

"you are a cruel woman. how do you think she'll feel when she hears that from her own mother?" your father had reprimanded your mother, his eyes sharp and his tongue even sharper, "why can't you believe in your daughter for once? does it cost you money to be supportive?"

"in this case, yes! she is draining the expenses and you know it," your mother growls, just loud enough for you to hear.

god how you wished she understood how you felt.

you had fallen asleep in max's arms once again, maybe the third time this week. max never had the heart to wake you up and leave your side after a particularly bad dream, so he would always move you to lay on top of his chest and sleep with you on the sofa.

you stirred awake for a bit when you felt him move you.

"max..?" you mumbled, your eyes barely open but planted a soft, chaste kiss on your forehead. it fluttered something in your sleepy stomach that you couldn't quite place.

"sleep."

"you can always go back in your room," you slurred your words from the tiredness from the emotional draining you had to do earlier but he shook his head gently, saying no to your suggestion.

"sleep."

"but—"

"sleep, schatje."

you woke up the next day to max's hushed voice talking, he sounded quite irritated. it sounded like he was fighting. none of the words made sense to you until you finally started waking up.

"—like i said kelly. i want nothing to do with you anymore— you cannot use p as leverage. i'm happy now..." max's hushed voice trailed off, you fluttered your eyes open to see that he was sitting up and you were laying on his lap.

you sleepily look up at him before he smiles at you, focusing back on his phone call, "i have someone else now kelly, if you can't accept that then it's your issue to deal with," he mumbled before shutting off the phone, finally giving you all of his undivided attention.

"kelly giving you trouble again?" you ask, sleep laced in your voice, stretching a tiny bit, he pat your head twice and nodded.

kelly had been borderline harassing him, almost a year later and begging to take her back. maybe she finally realized how hard her life was once she couldn't mooch off his money anymore.

"just the usual, i can't be arsed to deal with her."

you sit up and look at max apologetically, "did i give you a lot of trouble last night? i'm sorry for bothering you again, i told you i would be able to handle it by myself."

max rolled his eyes sarcastically, really not minding and liking the way he had to take care of you and how you naturally drifted towards him for comfort.

"i told you, i want to take care of you. you're not a burden to me, you are perfectly fine just the way you are," max had said, while he was talking he had stood up right in front of you and held both of your hands.

"i just don't want to feel like i'm burdening anyone anymore, i just—... i hate it," you look up at him, "you understand how i feel right? i just don't want you to feel—"

"you're doing it again."

a sigh left your lips and you look away from max's blue eyes, "look at me," he tells you softly, finger hooked underneath your chin to make you look at him.

"you're doing okay, you're fine. i am here for you. you're gonna do great this season," max had told you words of encouragement, "i am so proud of you. just do your best. i will always be here to support you."

"thank you max."

"you're welcome schatje."

"this question is for y/n, how do you feel coming into this season of formula one? your third year and it has been a fabulous ride with you in the red," the interviewer had asked, you were elected to be on the panel for media interviews this time around.

you put the mic up your mouth and spoke, "i feel great, helping ferrari get their constructors' cup after so long did help with that feeling. charles also had a hand in this, so i won't take all the credit. i do wish to win the driver's championship this year— that's if charles lets me," you finish it off with a chuckle as you glance at charles who was on the left of you.

charles gives you a teasing look which you roll your eyes playfully to.

"next question is to max," the interviewer smoothly moves over to max who was to your right, you glance at him before listening to what the question was, "how is your car after testing season? do you think you guys might be able to fight for the constructors' cup this year? why or why not?"

"i think the car is miles better than last year, i think we have a good shot in winning the constructors' cup this year— no offense to the two ferrari drivers to the left of me," max gives you a glance as you both lock eyes, you swiftly look ahead and to the panel of interviewers.

the interview was shortly wrapped up as you guys were dismissed to head home for the night. third day of testing had finally finished and you just had enough of the media duties for today. having to film content for ferrari socials as well.

it was almost routine for the two of you guys to walk to your hotel and just yap to eachother for about thirty minutes of the walk, as you were wrapping things up and gathering your things in the motorhome, charles walks in and greets you.

"you going home with verstappen tonight?" charles winks at you as he approaches you and stands next to you, you scoff and nod, "you've been spending a lot of time with him lately and a small birdie tells me that you also live in the same apartment as him."

"we've been living in the same building for almost a year now charles, where have you been?" you joke with him as you zip up your dufflebag and carry it on your shoulder.

charles just laughs as your response and shrugs, "you guys getting closer? in that sense, if you know what i mean," he wiggles his eyebrows and you laugh and shake your head, knowing everything between the two of you guys was entirely— maybe not entirely but they were mostly platonic.

"you are worse than the media pen charles, really," you laugh as you wave him off, wanting to retire for the night. now you knew why charles asked if you were going home with max or not, he was waiting for you outside of the motorhome.

you smiled at him and he smiled at you, motioning to the exit as you followed close behind him.

throughout the years of spending time in his apartment, you had slowly but surely opened up about things that have happened in the past that still haunted you to this day. max did the same. telling you similar stories from his childhood that he fortunately had gotten over as the years went by.

but they were still scabbed scars that you kept picking on, making them bleed red every time you remembered.

it had barely been a decade since you escaped your childhood home, filled with fighting and violence from your mother.

max was there through the countless nights of nightmares, always holding you tight and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

you always hated those nights.

not only did you feel like a burden to max, but you felt as if you were burdening the entire world.

no one should see you in that state.

smack!

the sound of the slap rang through the air as you protested your mother not letting you leave the house.

"you are not going to your silly races anymore, you are a girl, y/n. act like one," your mother had sternly reprimanded you, but you only glared at her in response, not being able to say anything. knowing that if you did, sobs will come out and your mother would make fun of you.

"just because me and your father divorced, doesn't mean i'm going to support this stupid delusion of yours going into formula one, never," your mother had continued as she dragged you by the shirt into your room, "now sit there and think about how pretty you're going to dress up when you go to tonight's party."

the door slammed shut in your face.

you called your father of course and getting you out of your mother's house was a hassle, your mother was refusing entry to your father because it was not his day of visitation and your father was trying to force himself in because it was race day and you were due there.

it was your debut in formula 2, and your mother had managed to make it hell for you. first race and you had tears in your eyes because what you had to go through in your mother's home.

your debut in formula 2 wasn't smooth, nor was it easy. but you had your father there at least, cheering from the sidelines. it was tough enough that the f1 academy didn't exist at this time, only being able to progress through to f1 to actually compete with the nepo babies that surrounded the paddock.

"you okay?" max had stopped in front of you, you blinked plainly before focusing on his blue eyes, you bit your lip, feeling guilty. he was probably talking about something and you were not listening.

"uh, yeah. sorry, i was just in my own head there," you smile slightly at you, "were you saying something?" your brain had been running completely on autopilot, just walking wherever max was walking.

max looked at you that said it all.

"stop thinking about her, she's not worth your time. are you really gonna let her ruin your days in f1?" max crossed his arms in front of his chest, "you told me that's what most of your dreams were about, she terrorizes your dream but you cannot let her ruin this for you."

"it's easier said than done, max," you look up at him sadly before looking away from his gaze, you hated the way he looked at you when he knows what you're going through. as if he could see through the tough exterior you built for yourself.

max gently took your hand and caressed it.

this was what you meant when it was mostly platonic.

"look at me— look at me when i'm talking to you, y/n l/n."

you gently tore your gaze away from the city skylines and look up to lock eyes with his steely blue eyes, they were like the sky. you just couldn't look away sometimes.

"i believe in you, okay? you have been a wonderful driver the two years you've been in formula one, do you understand?"

you nod at his encouraging words, not knowing what else to say. the words lost as they reached your mouth.

"you have achieved so many things in your rookie year that so many people in the sport can only dream of doing, have a little faith in yourself and in your skills," max gently squeezed the hand he was holding, "hell, you even beat me to the constructors' cup last year and the year before that—"

"charles helped—"

"do you always have to discredit yourself when it comes to your team's achievements?"

you could only sigh when he said that, you genuinely believed that you didn't deserve to be here. that someone much more talented did, not realizing that you indeed do have the skills, that you just had to give yourself more grace.

"yeah, that's what i thought. let's go back to the hotel and relax, okay? you deserve it. sometimes being in the paddock for too long can mess you up," max says before tugging you along back to the hotel.

"radio check," anthony sounded out from the garage, you were ready for this race. you were always ready for a good race.

"loud and clear," you say as you sat in your car, starting front row next to max. taking pole was easy in monaco this time round.

"okay y/n, stick to plan a. don't take unnecessary risks. just play it safe, defend, and bring it home," anthony had reminded you, you hum a response before focusing completely on the race.

fred had informed that they were going to prioritize you this race, charles has been having engine problems since free practice and he told you that it was okay for you to take the lead on this one, not having much hope on his car seeing the mountain of problems it had caused him this weekend, but he was still willing to try. placing himself p4 on the grid.

"welcome to the monaco grand prix this weekend, as we see l/n on pole, verstappen p2, lando norris p3 and charles leclerc p4. merely seconds from the start of the race, it's lights out and away we go!"

you booked it from lights out, pedal to the metal when you saw the red lights go off.

max was always resilient when it came to racing, even though he had a soft spot for you (which he will never admit outloud), he still respected you enough to still think of you as a competent driver and would never give you an easy win.

max was still as aggressive as ever, always taking the chance to fight for that spot for p1. but this was your home race and you were going to die before you let max get first place easily.

lap after lap, max tried to contest the your lead, but you were smart, conserving your tyres when you didn't need them as much and pushing them to their limits when you did need them.

"we're gonna have you box together with charles," anthony had informed you through the radio, but you interjected.

"can we box when the red bull boxes? i don't want to take the chance of us losing this lead when we have it in the bag," you told anthony but he wasn't having any of it.

"just trust us, y/n. we have this. box with charles next lap, then fight for p1 again. they're going to have to eventually box too," anthony rejected your idea so you followed the team's lead and did exactly that.

charles had climbed and overtaken norris and helped you defend from max, being aggressive with max meant that he had less aggressiveness to put on you, which made it perfect for you.

"and ferrari has decided to double box against l/n's decision to keep pushing, letting max through to p1, whilst the ferrari duo now sits in p4 and p5."

lando was ahead of you, alongside george who had managed to take p3 while you boxed, but you had the advantage of heating up hard tyres and overtook him easily.

overtime, you slowly got to p3 with a double overtake with charles. him taking p4 respectively.

you didn't exactly know what happened between lando and max because you were behind lando, but at the hairpin, but they both lost control and crashed into the barrier, your eyes widened as you zoomed past the both of them, ferrari taking p1 & p2 simultaneously.

"is max okay?"

"focus on the race, y/n. he will be fine."

"no, tell me what's going on with the red bull and mclaren, did lando rear-end max?" you asked hurriedly, still trying your best to bring this race home.

"i will update you as soon as i get info," that was anthony's way of telling you to shut the fuck up and focus on the race.

your mind was racing a million miles an hour, you were worried. for once, it wasn't the two of you involved in a crash.

you brought the race home at the end, scoring a ferrari 1-2, but your mind was not there on the podium where it should be.

"dad!" you yell as you see your father in the ferrari garage after all of the celebratory processes had been gone through, tears instantly brought to your eyes, you run and almost knock him over from the force of you flying and hugging him.

"i'm so proud of you," your father held you tight and you cried into his arms, "i always believed you could, now i'm looking at the future world champion."

and that's where you finally realize, maybe you did deserve the iconic red car after all.

"i'm going to break that mclaren wing, i swear," you mutter quietly as you sit next to max who was resting on the hospital bed of the medical center, you had gone straight to visit max as you finished everything up around the paddock.

"you have anger issues—"

"i do not!" you gasped and looked at max who had a loopy smile on his face, you act as if that was a scandalous thought and scoffed. he was under some painkillers to manage the pain of whatever injuries he sustained from the crash

"you do, you always have. even when you were a rookie. i remember when you crashed into me on that quali, it was funny watching the race over and hearing you say motherfucker over the radio. you got fined for that right?" max asked, glancing at you who was on his left.

with a sigh and a huff, you reply a small 'yes' before crossing your arms in front of your chest like a child throwing a tantrum.

again, max would never admit it outloud but he considered you cute.

the door of the room opened to reveal a lando with a few of mclaren's representatives, he had a sorry look on his face but you frowned when you saw him.

you then caught yourself and was confused, what was this feeling?

protectiveness? care?

what the hell was this?

you cringe at yourself before lando gave you a raised eyebrow.

"is there a problem?" lando asked before you catch yourself another time, eyes wide and shook your head.

"sorry, made a face out loud on accident."

lando looked away from you for a split second before turning to look at max, "hey mate, i'm really sorry about crashing into you back there. it was a complete mistake on my part."

they sorted out whatever "beef" they had and that night max was cleared to go home. you had volunteered to take him back to his apartment, since it was monaco, the fia didn't have to book hotels for the both of you.

max had a gentle hand always holding yours as you walked him back to your apartments.

he had stopped in the middle of his tracks, your hands naturally disconnected, you turned to ask him if he was alright before he uttered the words out of his lips.

"what are we?"

you looked at him, almost confused. you passed it off as the meds at first.

"max, you're drugged. don't say things you don't mean," you walk a few steps to grab his hand again, but he was steadfast in his resolve. not wanting to move until you answered his question.

but you didn't know the answer to that either.

"answer the question, y/n," max said softly, he didn't want to make it seem like he was mad at you, he never was, "what are we exactly? i kiss you on the forehead to comfort you and i call you schatje but you've never reciprocated my moves, so tell me what are we?"

"schatje is a term of endearment right? what do you mean by that max?" max had always told you at schatje was something that someone would call their loved ones, you didn't bother searching it up either because he was the native dutch here, you took his word for it.

"i lied," max said quietly, his eyes were on the floor and he looked absolutely rejected.

you could never ignore the feelings that bloomed in your chest when max would sacrifice his sleep for you, the way he would wrap his arms around you, the way he would kiss your forehead with so much love in his eyes that he might break if he held in anymore.

you never realized it until now.

"so what does it mean?" you asked as you stood in front of him, trying to search for the answers in his pretty blue eyes but all you could see were the hints of disappointment and sadness.

"it means love, or baby— it doesn't matter what it means," max was frustrated now, you could tell by the way he tousled with his hair when he finished his sentence, he wanted an answer and fast.

you didn't know what to answer with.

it was undeniable that you did reciprocate his feelings but you didn't know how to word it out.

you were always bad with words.

"i don't know what to answer you with," you replied, as honest as you could get, you didn't want any misunderstandings with max. especially not now, not ever.

you guys had gotten close for a reason. he was your safe space, as you were his and you didn't want to throw it away all for a title to name the two of you.

"so you don't feel the same way? all these months of me comforting you, patiently listening and waiting for you to open up? it was all because you considered me a friend?" max asked, his grip off your hand was now slipping.

it was also a metaphor of your relationship with him breaking apart.

"i'm— i don't know max. this is all confusing to me, i've never dated anyone before and i don't know how to answer—"

"so when i kiss you, you don't feel it in your chest too? the warmth? the comfort? it's all just flat— just platonic to you?" max took a step back, it was almost he was stepping back from whatever was going on between the two of you.

"i'm not saying that—"

"let's not ruin your win tonight by arguing," max brushed past by you and continued to walk, not bothering to look back to see if you were following or not.

you weren't.

"p6, dnf, p10, p12, dnf, p18, p16, dnf— do you actually want to be a formula one driver, y/n?" fred had dropped a stack of papers of data of your past performances, you were frustrated too. you hadn't been able to get a good night's worth of sleep since monaco.

"look, i told you. i'm just having trouble with sleeping and the doctor prescribed me with pills for the insomnia too, what else do you expect from me fred?" you asked with a sigh, rubbing your temple, absolutely frustrated with your recent performance too.

"i want you to bring whatever you did in monaco, this isn't good enough for me, y/n. i can't keep defending you forever," fred had told you before leaving you with a headache and a stack of papers to analyze over.

"fucking fuck shit, stupid—" you stopped yourself as you set your elbows on the table and rubbed your face with your hands.

max...

it felt like you were stuck in a loop.

a never-ending, bad performing loop.

you didn't know what to do, you ate those sleeping pills like candy and they did nothing.

nightmares were more frequent now, having them almost everyday. the stress was slowly getting to you and you could see it in your performance.

you spent that night going over the data and simulating your races. your best tracks, worst ones and picked apart what you could do better.

every race, even your best tracks. it ended with something stupid.

understeering, oversteering, bumping into your own teammate, bumping into sim max, bumping into literally everything that wasn't supposed to be bumped into.

it was supposed to be flawless— you were supposed to be flawless.

what the fuck happened?

you knew the answer to that but didn't dare answer it for yourself.

"it's not working," you whispered to yourself as you took off the headphones and practically slammed it against the desk you were currently occupying. it was useless.

everything was fucking useless when it came to you.

your relationship with max was strained, he wouldn't even look at your direction, let alone talk with you. while him and charles were celebrating most of their podiums in the cooldown room, you were stuck here, overanalyzing whatever the fuck you did wrong.

rubbing your face with your hands again, you had barely heard someone come into the room with you with a sympathetic smile.

"it's one of those slumps, is it?" charles' voice had flowed into the room and it startled you, nearly jumping out of your own skin.

"jesus fucking christ, charles. knock," you rubbed your temples, your sleep-deprivation had earned you major migraines, they were practically permanently thumping in your skull now.

"sorry, i overheard fred talking to you earlier. then he told me that you might need a little help..." charles trailed off as he noticed the mess all over you, it was late and your flight for the next grand prix was due tomorrow morning.

"it's fine— i'm fine. i am not a child that needs to be babysat," you spat out in anger, "if he wants to get rid of me, he can. fucking coward," you growled the last part under your breath but charles was still understanding your situation.

"you know y/n, it's okay to ask for help sometimes—"

"i don't need help! i just need to sleep for once in my life," you closed your eyes, hoping for the thumping in your skull to just go away.

"are—"

"just get out."

first simulation, crash, dnf.

second, collision, dnf.

third, mistake on the curbs, p9.

fourth, spun out, dnf.

fifth, minimal mistakes, could be better, p2.

80% of your simulations ended in a crash.

"how the fuck did i do so well earlier this season? fucking shit ass car, shit ass team, shit ass driver—"

it was max.

"shut up!" you screamed out loud at your brain.

you were spiraling, it was obvious to everyone else but yourself.

being behind the wheel only a week after your kiss with the barriers had unnerved you.

was it even legal to drive an f1 car being this sleep-deprived?

you didn't want to know the answer to that.

"just focus on the race yeah? don't stress yourself out on anything else, just do your best—"

"i don't need your shitty peptalks before my race, anthony," you warned your race engineer and he didn't say anything remotely encouraging for the rest of the race.

your performance this time around was better than the rest of the races you overanalyzed a week ago.

p3.

podium.

more humans to interact with... yay.

if there was a time where you wanted to die, this was it.

max was in the cooldown room with charles.

you were dreading it.

"good job on the podium today! i knew you could do it," charles flashed you a big smile, you could only give him a small smile back.

this wasn't your peak performance, you knew it but you didn't want to say anything snappy, feeling bad for the words you yelled at him the other week.

you weren't doing good, and he knew so he always gave you some grace.

you didn't utter a word in that cooldown room, feeling lightheaded from the adrenaline and the lack of sleep.

you couldn't even feel the cold champagne on your skin when it came to podium celebrations, you were just thankful it was time to go home back to monaco when the race was over. autumn break was in full-swing and you wanted to sleep the entire break over.

THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE IM SORRY. i have been very busy :[

[justananxiousweirdo]

Joost NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Joost immediately helps you clean yourself up. And as soon as you’re all clean it’s snuggle time. Joost loves post sex snuggles, he burrows his head into your neck and holds you as close and physically possible.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Joost likes his hair, he spends so much time doing it and he loves it so much. He also loves anywhere he has a tattoo because he loves his tattoos.

His favorite on you is either your face or your arms. He loves your face because to him it’s what makes you you. And he loves your gorgeous eyes, beaming smile, and just everything about your face. He loves your arms because he loves to be held by them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Joost loves seeing you covered in his cum, cum on you or in you he just thinks it’s really fucking hot. He loves pumping his cum deep inside you and keeping it there. But if you don’t let him he’s coating as much of your body as he can, your tits, face, stomach, thighs, ass, literally wherever.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves when you’re in control. He isn’t really submissive per se but he loves when your riding him chasing after your own climax ignoring Joosts own.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Joost is not very experienced, and while he’s definitely not bad, towards the beginning of your relationship it was definitely a bit of a learning process for him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position where he can see your face, Joost loves eye contact during sex so as long as he can see your pretty eyes he’s happy. Despite that he’s still a sucker for doggy style. Just something about hitting you from behind really gets him going.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s a little on the goofy side, but it’s in the way where he’ll try to talk dirty but can’t take himself seriously when he does so he just ends up laughing.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

My guy is bushy as hell. He simply doesn’t care enough to shave down there, as long as it doesn’t bother you it doesn’t bother him. Because he doesn’t want to take a razor down there.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s so romantic, like he goes above and beyond to make sure you feel so loved each time you guys have sex. He does his best to set a romantic mood as well, like if you guys aren’t hot and heavy before hand he’s lifting up candles and has occasionally surprised you with roses and rose petals. Like when he can it looks like a newly weds honeymoon suite.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Joost does his best to just wait for you to help him take care of it. He’s usually patient enough he can wait til the next time he sees you but sometimes when he’s in your and doesn’t know how long it will be he’ll face time you so he can hear your voice and see you when he jerks it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I feel like Joost is rather vanilla, he definitely has some kinks but nothing too crazy. He totally has a little bit of a vocal fetish or whatever like the sounds you make definitely get him going a bit. He likes orgasm control stuff as well.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your guys’ bed or a nice bubble bath. He prefers the bed because it’s very comfortable and it just makes sense to him but he likes to draw you guys a bubble bath and leave a little room so the water doesn’t poor out too much when you guys get up to it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anytime you start flirting with him he’s immediately ready. Anything you do to make him think you want him makes him want you. Also anytime you wear his clothes. He thinks you look so hot in his shirts and he absolutely loves to fuck you in them.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No daddy kink or anything like that, age play, just nothing weird and creepy like that. (Not to kink shame) He also won’t do anything to hurt you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

That tongue definitely gets some good use, he’s a major munch. Joost loves eating your box. Anytime he can he’ll eat your pussy. He’s good at it too, he’s learned exactly what you like and he does it well.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He prefers slow and sensual, he wants it to be more of a love making time than just fucking. But if you ever want it fast and rough he will give you fast and rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not the biggest fan or quickies because he prefers to take his time but he’d never pass up the opportunity to have sex with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’d prefer not to take many risks but if you ever come to him with something you want to try he just can’t say no to you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can get a good two rounds in, three is really pushing it for him but he might be able to squeeze in a third.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t really like toys but if you have something you like to use he’ll use it on you. But he’d much rather just get the job done himself. He might even take a little bit of offense if you ask him to use a toy on you. But he wouldn’t say anything.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to tease but the moment you start begging he gives in. He’s tried to stick it out but it’s impossible for him to say no to you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He only makes noise when he’s cumming. He’s almost weirdly silent during sex, but he likes listening to the sounds you make, and he keeps pretty quite minus a groan here and there.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Joost loves overstimulation, he loves when you fuck him so good he’s overwhelmed. He thinks it’s so hot you can get him writhing and whimpering while inside you. Whether he’s in your pussy or your mouth if you over stimulate him he’s putty in your hands.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

We’ve all seen Joosts outline, he’s a good 6 inches and he uses them well.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s not abnormally high, but it’s pretty high. He’s head over heels in love with you and is always down to have sex.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He gets pretty tired from sex and he always cuddles you afterwards so it doesn’t usually take him that long to fall asleep. He does his aftercare duties and makes sure your comfortable before falling asleep himself.

[bananayuyu]

Cabin Fever [part 4]

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: fluff and smut

Word count: 9.9k

Summary: Sometimes actions have consequences for your fragile body, your morning getting off to a sore start. The day thankfully offers you a calm morning, a long-overdue conversation, and a desperate Wooyoung bringing laughter to everyone, in his own special way.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, fingering, voyeurism

A/n: Apologies for how long it took me to post this chapter, I kept editing and rewriting different sections of it because I wanted it to be perfect. I realized recently how much this series means to me, I think because of how much I relate to the main character, and the kind response I've gotten from all of you <3 I'm so glad to be finally posting, and will definitely continue to write the other parts I've planned. I really hope you all enjoy!

Linked here is my masterlist where you can find the previous parts. Again let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! (it will be six parts in total if everything goes to plan)

Taglist: @certifiedmoa @pautiny27 @luvbit3z @dawn-iscozy @artistic-rendition

@yeosangiess @drinkingrumandcocacola @smally97 @kierraperkins3 @newworldwritings

@peachyy-jooniee @lucid-galaxys-world @arigakittyo @staytinyroha @yoonjikim

You wake in a blurry haze, the early morning light shining gently in through the window. You wonder for a moment if another storm rolled in last night, if the light is so soft because the sky is blanketed in clouds. A quick glance at your phone tells you it's just the light of dawn, the sun not risen enough yet to fully brighten the room. You groan internally, wishing your body let you sleep in after the crazy day you'd just had. You lay awake for a while, eyes still closed, as you hear Yunho's steady deep breaths of sleep. You try to let your mind rest more, but soon you can tell there's no point, your brain desperately chewing through every intense conversation you'd had the day before. As quietly as you can you sit up and scoot yourself off the bed, rubbing your eyes as you walk yourself to the bathroom.

Immediately upon standing you notice the feeling, a slight soreness deep in your core. It almost doesn't feel bad, at least initially, and it makes you giggle to yourself, remembering your previous night. You hadn't expected Yunho to fuck you so hard, and truthfully you loved it. Miraculously your body had been able to take it, maybe even needed it because of the emotionally exhausting day. But you also knew you might pay a bit of a price for it now. You'd certainly joked with people like Ari, or Wooyoung, about being fucked so hard you could still feel it the next morning. And in theory it sounded like the best case scenario, like something everyone would want. But now that you were here it also felt a little concerning, that your muscles were that sore.

You were quiet in the bathroom as well, not wanting to wake anyone in the living room. You carefully clean your thighs, wiping a damp towel over them, and gently brushing it past your core to clean yourself there as well. Immediately the contact feels a bit painful and you wince, frustration bubbling in you as you breathe deeply, taking a moment to let the pain subside. No matter how many times you try to pretend it isn't true, your body always has a way of reminding you how fragile and delicate it is. With a sigh you finish up, tossing the towel in the hamper, then washing your hands. Making your way back to the library, you open and close the door as carefully as possible, gently settling yourself down on the pull out couch that hadn't been used now in days.

You hadn't had a chance the whole trip to crack open your book, and with the chaos of the previous day some calm, focused reading sounds oh so perfect. You grab it out of your bag and begin reading, the sun slowly brightening as the day starts to bloom. Yunho is still sound asleep, his breaths so gentle you almost forget he is there. Eventually your stomach grumbles and you head out to the kitchen, being met with Seonghwa and Hongjoong sipping their first coffees of the day.

If you're entirely honest, it feels a little uncomfortable seeing them, especially Hongjoong. Though you tried the previous night to just move on, to forget what happened, the tension still lingers, especially now that you know so much of why Hongjoong acted the way he did. You aren't sure if he's told Seonghwa anything yet, and you don't want to say anything that could make things awkward between them, so you decide you'll take your breakfast and head outside, hopefully getting to spend a little more peaceful time by yourself. With a quick hug to both of them you head out to the fire pit, your tea in one hand, breakfast in the other, and book tucked precariously under your arm.

It's refreshing sitting outside by yourself, under the shade of the forest trees, your book the only company you have. You normally spend a lot of time alone, so sometimes on these trips you get a bit overwhelmed by everyone. As the sun begins moving across the sky the day gets warmer, Yunho's hoodie now feeling a bit too heavy. You realize you've been wearing it for days now, and probably should change into something else. But you kick that thought aside, relishing the feeling of being in it. You don't entirely understand your own feelings yet, but something about wearing his clothes feels perfectly right.

"Hey, nerd," you hear Yunho say, lifting your head up to see him walking over towards you, his own breakfast in hand.

"Hi," you respond, smiling at him, but returning to your book. You were just nearing the end of a chapter, and you really wanted to finish it.

"You'd rather read then talk to me?" he jokes, plopping down in a chair next to you.

"Just give me like two minutes," you say, eyes still not leaving the page. Yunho just nods and starts wolfing down his breakfast, glancing over at you occasionally to see if you're really that focused. Apparently, you are, which is something he loves so much. As much as he jokes with you, he finds it precious how lost you get in the things you read.

"Ok, we can talk now," you say brightly, sliding your bookmark into the page you just finished. It makes Yunho chuckle, his eyes bright with adoration.

"I wanted to ask you a question," he says, quickly taking another bite.

"Okay," you respond, not sure where he is headed.

"I wanted to see if you felt okay with everything that's been going on, you know, between us. Make sure I haven't crossed any lines," he says.

"Not at all," you say, looking back at him. You seem reluctant to talk much this morning, which isn't like you, and Yunho feels a bit concerned. But he really wants to know where your head is at; he just honestly didn't think he'd be the one to have to bring this up. You were the one who was so good at talking about your feelings, but you hadn't said anything specific about it yet. Well, maybe you did that night you both said 'I love you,' but nothing had been said since.

"So how are you feeling?" he asks.

"Well my vagina hurts, but otherwise pretty good," you laugh, adjusting yourself in your seat to try to alleviate the soreness.

"It hurts?" he asks, with genuine concern.

"Like it's sore, you know, from last night's activities," you say, cringing at yourself. You didn't feel like you couldn't say 'it's sore from you fucking me so hard,' but some part of you wishes you did.

"In a good way? Or bad way?" he asks.

"Um, kind of both?" you respond, not really sure yourself. "I don't hate it but it's, well, worse than ideal. I have to be careful when I sit," you say, trying to keep yourself from laughing again.

"What's so funny?" he asks you, thankful to see you laughing and not grimacing in pain.

"I just never imagined actually having this conversation with somebody," you say, smiling. You appreciate when ridiculous moments happen, and remind you that life doesn't have to be so serious all the time.

"Was I too rough?" he asks, making you giggle again.

"No, I liked it," you say. "I mean, I guess maybe, I just... I haven't really had this happen before," you say, still laughing. "It's probably cause your dick is, um, so big." You turn to see Yunho fighting to keep a smile off his face at your comment, his head turning away from you for a moment.

"Was it just too hard? Or too long?" he asks, making you burst into laughter harder. "I mean, how I fucked you y/n, not my di- ugh," Yunho covers his face, his cheeks reddening some.

"You're being so funny right now," you say. You can't help but find it terribly adorable how awkward he can sometimes be.

"I'm trying to be serious," he says, fixing you momentarily with a stern grimace, which only makes you both laugh harder. After a few moments you both calm down, making eye contact again.

"For real though, I don't want to hurt you. Was I too rough?" he repeats, truly wanting an answer.

"No, you really weren't. I liked it, I liked it a lot. It felt really good. Sometimes, with the way my body is, I have to sacrifice the future days of pain for doing something I really want to do. Sometimes I feel it's worth it. If I spent my life trying to prevent myself from ever feeling pain, I'd never get to do certain things. And obviously I have to be careful how often I do things like that, because usually it means I have to recover for a day or two, or even longer. But I can do it occasionally. I can deal with pain, extremely well," you finish, emphasizing the last two words.

"But I don't want sex with me to cause you pain," he says, eyeing you. "Is that really worth it to you? Aren't there things we could do that wouldn't hurt you?" he asks.

"Well, honestly part of the problem last night was probably that I just like, put your dick inside me without any warm up. Which was on me, I take full responsibility. But like, if you finger me first, it helps the muscles relax. Just doing that probably would have prevented most of this pain," you say.

"Thank you for telling me that," he says, his mind intently focused on every words coming from your lips.

"I liked what happened though, it was very..." you trail off.

"Feral?" he asks, making you laugh yet again. You put your face in your hands remembering everything, especially the way he grabbed you and flipped you over, and the sounds he made in your ear when he finally came.

"Yeah, I liked that," you giggle, face still hidden. You sigh into yourself, basking in the feeling of this conversation. You never thought you'd be having it with Yunho, and you realize that despite everything you couldn't be more comfortable. He knew you so well, and explaining all of this to someone who didn't know you at all would have been ten times more complicated.

"Y/n, I have to tell you something," he suddenly says, his tone completely different. You quickly put your hands down, turning your body in your chair to face him, as he sets his plate down on the ground, turning to face you as well.

"What is it?" you ask, trying to keep yourself from tensing up.

"I- I don't really know how to say this, I'm sorry if I start rambling. I just, I just need to say this, even though I think you already know, but in case it isn't clear. I-" he takes in a shaky breath, quickly letting it out. "I love you, obviously, I have for many years. But I'm also in love with you, and I don't know if you realized that. That's why certain things just keep coming out of my mouth, when we're having sex, and I'm sorry if it's weird. It doesn't seem to bother you but, I know we hadn't talked about it. I like calling you baby, it feels right, but if you want me to stop, or you want any of this thing, between us, to stop, you just say the word. I don't want anything that I ever do, or say, to make your life worse. You already deal with so much shit all of the time, and it would be my worst nightmare to know that I'm adding to that." Out of nowhere you feel a tear hit your cheek, quickly followed by one hitting your bare thigh. Yunho is staring at the ground between you, not able to stomach seeing your reactions in real time. "Above all I love you, and I want you to be happy, and even if tomorrow you tell me you never want to sleep with me ever again, I'd still love you, I'd still want to live with you and be your friend. I'm serious, I mean that. I would not hold it against you, I would not make things awkward. I don't feel like you owe me anything, at all. But you should also know if you want me to be more than a friend to you, I would gladly oblige. I know I should have probably told you this before we started having sex, but..." finally he trails off, looking up at you.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he says seeing your tears, thinking he's upset you.

"No, don't apologize," you squeak out, trying to get ahold of your breathing.

"What's wrong?" he asks, coming to kneel next to you, taking your hands in his.

"I- I don't know," you croak, tears still streaming down your cheeks. You truly don't know why you suddenly burst into tears, after having such a calm morning. What Yunho said was sweet, unbelievably so. Your head spins, all the conversations from yesterday again playing through your head, like twenty radios going at the same time. It's incredibly overwhelming when your brain does this, and you grab your ears momentarily to try to make it stop. Yunho wipes the tears from your cheeks, sitting patiently as you calm yourself, as you finally wipe what you think are the last of the tears with the sleeves of his hoodie.

And when you finally look up you're met with big brown eyes that feel like they're looking into the depths of your soul, making your heart ache with a feeling so intense you can't name it. Suddenly the world slows, everything stops. It's just him and you, in this vast forest, and everything feels alright, like it's meant to be. Suddenly you're not feeling your sticky sweaty skin under the hoodie, or the ache in your core. You can't feel any of it when sat in front of you is your favorite person in the entire world. It hits you like a train, that realization. You'd never get over how kind he was to spend nights in the hospital with you, when you were so out of it you hardly remembered a thing. You could have said anything; you knew you acted strange when you were there. But still he was there for you, still he treated you the same. This beautiful, tall, talented man who could have been doing anything he wanted with his life. You could imagine doing everything with him, imagine living with him forever. You couldn't trust him more or respect him more if you tried. You realized the myriad dialogues playing out in your head had gone away, left with only one; a part of you, screaming at the top of her little lungs, 'how did it take you this long to realize?!'

"I'm-I'm so sorry I didn't see it sooner," you stutter, leaning down to hug him, to hold him tight. You have so much you want to say to him, but it's hard to get words out with how overwhelmed you feel.

"Shh, it's okay," Yunho comforts you, holding your head in the crook of his neck.

"I love you too," you say, struggling to find the right words. "I mean, more than platonically, I love you. I'm sorry it took me this long to realize it."

"I thought, maybe, that was the case," he says, chuckling into your hair.

"So even you figured that out before I did?" you ask, huffing out a laugh.

"What do you mean, even me?" he responds. You sit up to look at him again, putting your hands on his shoulders.

"Literally all of our friends knew we liked each other before I did," you say, like it's groundbreaking news.

"Does that surprise you?" he asks, incredulous.

"Well, yeah," you respond.

"They always do that though, don't they? I mean we all knew Hongjoong and Seonghwa liked each other since forever ago, it was just a thing. Sometimes I feel like they know me better than I know myself." You nod in response. It was definitely true with your friend group, time and time again.

"But Yunho, if you thought I liked you why didn't you ask me about it earlier?" you ask.

"I didn't want to put you in an awkward spot," he says, stroking his hand comfortingly down your arm.

"But, wait, how long have you suspected I like you?" you ask.

"Um, a while," he says, trying to think. "I don't remember exactly, but probably the last year or so."

"Year??" you ask, genuinely shocked. "How- what made you think that?"

"The way you are with me, when you're sick. I don't think you realize the things you say..." he trails off, grabbing your hands in his again.

"Oh god, what have I said to you?" you groan, trying to look away.

"It's nothing embarrassing, I swear. You just become so clingy with me, in a different way than you are with Seonghwa. Like, in a literal sense, not wanting me to let you go. You've asked me to sleep in your hospital bed before, and nurses have to kindly ask me to move so I'm not in the way. You will sometimes cry about how worried you are that I'll leave you, in a way that made it feel like we were already together. One time you said you were scared I'd stop loving you because of how sick you were. You'll profess your love for me, beg me to stay with you forever. Things like that."

"That sounds intense," you say, imagining it from his perspective. You shudder at the thought, a part of you feeling sick at how overwhelming it must be to care for someone like you.

"Well, yeah," he responds.

"I'm sor-"

"No. Don't do that." He grabs you tightly again, wrapping you in his arms. "I'm grateful for it all. I'm just so glad we finally talked about this. I'll always love you, no matter what happens. I want you to always remember that."

You nod into his shoulder, squeezing him tightly, just as you hear some foot steps approaching.

"Hi guys, I'm sorry to interrupt," Ari starts, speaking gently. You both break apart to give her your attention. "Can I borrow a pad, or a tampon or something?" she asks you, fidgeting. "I don't know why, but my period started today when it wasn't supposed to till like, next Tuesday."

"Oh my god, of course," you say immediately. "They should just be in my bag, easy to find. Feel free to grab whatever you need. Oh and my Tylenol, it might be in the bathroom if it's not in my bag."

"Thank you so much, you're a life saver," she says over her shoulder as she heads back in quickly, nearly breaking into a run. This cabin is messing with our hormones, you think. At first the thought amuses you, but then it feels scary too. Because what if everything that had happened between you and Yunho here, wouldn't feel the same back home? What if your feelings would change? It had taken the chaotic events of this trip to bring them to the surface, and would the monotony and business of real life bury them again?

There's also the possibility that it was inevitable, that all along this was going to happen. It certainly seems that everyone else thinks that, and that offers you some reassurance. But you can't help your own doubts, and your intense fear of what this means. It's all finally in the open, your feelings at least. But will you actually date? There is so much to discuss, and although he knows a lot, Yunho doesn't know the full of extent of your health issues. How much it can affect you, randomly for weeks or even months, how your sex drive changes, your moods change, your likes and dislikes even, if complicated medical issues are happening. You know you're bound to be pissed at him, to not want his attentions sometimes. You know he's bound to be way busier than you; which could be a good thing, you remind yourself. But if spending less time together feels almost relieving in a way, then is dating really the right thing to do? Maybe relationships with other people in general aren't really something you're built for. It's not like you've made many friends since high school, and the ones you have are almost exclusively online. You feel your soreness again, like a stabbing reminder of how messed up your body is.

"What are you thinking about?" Yunho asks you, cutting off your train of thought. It takes you a few moments, but you manage to collect your thoughts.

"Do do you realize how sick I am?" you ask, your voice small.

"What do you mean?" The look he gives you is one of genuine care. It makes your heart flutter.

"I- just- I don't know what this is going to be going forward, but like, I can't date someone in the normal way. No, that's not a good way of putting it," you sigh into your hands. Gathering yourself you start again. "Dating me isn't even like dating someone with a diagnosed disease or disability. My health issues are ever changing, and none of them have been truly figured out. Obviously I've fainted since I was young, but sometimes I go through periods where I barely do at all, and then other times it's super frequent. Sometimes I randomly develop an allergy to a new food, and I have to basically obsessively read through every item I buy at the grocery store to make sure I'm not accidentally injesting it. There was a time, three years ago, when I had no desire for anything sexual for like, half a year. My periods were so bad, and everything down there just always felt weird and it hurt, and I literally thought I might never feel horny ever again. These things just, happen, and there's no way for me to predict them. And it would mean that, being with me, would be different," you finish, with a huge sigh.

"I know all of that already," Yunho says, sighing himself.

"But, so- what do you want to happen?" you ask, finally getting to crux of what you wanted to know.

"Whatever you want," he says.

"That's not true, that can't be," you say, feeling dubious. "There must be something specific that you want."

"I want to date you," he says. "But I knew you might not want that, because of everything you have going on. So whatever you're willing to do, I'm in."

"Yunho," you sigh, frustrated. Frustrated because those words feel too good to be true, and as much as you trust him in so many ways, a part of you still wants to run away in doubt. It's a huge deal, trusting someone with this part of you, and it's just hit you now that you've been sleeping with him, in more ways than one, and you haven't batted an eye. If he ever did something, in any scenario but especially a sexual one, that hurt you, it would be so hard to recover. Things had happened in the past to make you understand that. You were so determined to never let those things happen again, that you'd basically stopped dating or even thinking about it. You could physically please yourself, and have your friendships to give you companionship. You'd never felt very centered on romantic relationships anyway. You had so written off the possibility of developing another romantic relationship that you'd stumbled into one without much of a thought. It made you feel so stupid, so immature. It was hard not to scream at yourself internally.

"What do you want to happen?" he asks you, placing a hand on your knee comfortingly.

"I- I don't want to lose you," you say, sighing into yourself. "And I don't want to get hurt. I don't want- I- I don't know."

"I won't hurt you," he says, squeezing your knee.

"I know you'd never intend to, but you can't guarantee that," you say. "And I can't guarantee I won't hurt you, either."

"Isn't it still worth it?" he asks.

"It depends what we decide to do," you say, eyes soft.

"I love you," he says again. It's all he can think to say right now, seeing how much you seem to be spiraling. And it works; it brings you back down into your body, into the chair you're sitting on. Suddenly you feel heavy, like the weight of all of your thoughts crashed down on you in an instant.

"I love you too," you say, nearly tearing up again. "This got way too serious and heavy," you say, trying to shake loose the dread starting to fill your veins.

"Why don't we do something fun today, then?" he asks.

"Like what?" you ask, nodding your head.

"Do you want to go to the falls, just the two of us? I felt bad you couldn't really join in the other day when we all went. If you feel up to it," he says.

"That sounds perfect," you reply, smiling at him. You're thankful he seems okay leaving the conversation where it was. You could feel yourself coming undone a bit, your thoughts running out of control, and you knew there was truly no use in continuing. You needed to reset, to calm down, and Yunho's suggestion seemed like just the thing to make you feel right again.

***

Inside you both change into your swimsuits, grabbing towels and water and snacks for your journey. Yunho liberally applies sunscreen to your body, obviously enjoying the proximity, but also genuinely wanting to protect your skin. You burn extremely easily, and sunburns always make you feel exhausted for days.

"Everyone, the two of us are going to the falls," he announces to the room as you head towards the back door. "Follow at your own risk. Consider this your official warning," he says, eyeing everyone, making you giggle at the implication. He hopes they know what he means.

You take the walk slowly, again picking flowers from the path and putting them in his hair. It's hard for you to resist your little habit, given just how beautiful the landscape is out here. You love the wilderness, but your friends and family and life are in the city, so you cherish your moments out in nature when you can. Especially when you get to place flowers in Yunho's shaggy hair, that you absolutely love. You still haven't told him that, and it gnaws at you now that things are different between you. It wasn't something you would have necessarily thought to tell him before. You generally avoided having strong opinions about others' appearances because you just didn't feel it was your place. But your opinions about his clothes, his hair, had always been a bit stronger. You'd certainly noticed it from time to time, that you reacted when he borrowed his dad's suit for a wedding, or when he'd cut his hair a certain way. Maybe a part of you felt awkward about telling him that, in a way you wouldn't about any of your other friends. You'd justified to yourself that you never said anything because he didn't care about those things either, so you didn't need to say it. But now you realized, maybe it was because you felt nervous. Because there were lingering feelings there that you weren't really aware of.

"I really like your hair right now," you blurt out, not wanting to wait any longer. You were done being distant from your feelings, not understanding them when it came to him. It was too important to you now.

"Oh, really?" he asks you, turning to you with a smile as you near the lake. "The other day my mom said I desperately need a haircut," he laughs.

"No, I like it long like this," you say, admiring your work. You know the flowers will disappear as soon as he dives in the falls, but for now they're beautiful.

"Then I'm keeping it," he says, sighing contentedly as you finally reach your destination.

The falls are beautiful today, the sky bright and blue reflected in the sparkly clear water. You set your things down on a smooth rock, far enough from the edge that they won't fall in. Quickly Yunho dives in, and you follow after him much more carefully, gently lowering yourself into the wonderfully chilly water. The temperature is a welcome pairing with the heat of the day, and you sigh, taking a deep breath before finally dunking your head under. You swim out towards the actual waterfall, breathing in the mist that forms at the bottom, the sound nearly deafening when you're so close. But it feels electric; moments like these always do, when your body is well enough for you to be out experiencing something intoxicating and brilliant. Yunho sidles up beside you, pulling you with him as he ducks through the water to come behind the fall. Behind there is a small cave, invisible to the outside world, with light bouncing across the ceiling as water droplets skip along the surface, finding their final resting place after their journey over the cliff.

Yunho's hands are on you quickly, as you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. He's holding you up, making it so you don't have to do any work, so that you can just breathe deep and enjoy the peace of the cave. In the water your bodies move slowly, sensually, and it makes you want to touch him as closely as you can. His wet hair sticks to his forehead, water beading down his face and shoulders. The gentle light dances across his face, and the steady sound from the falling water is almost hypnotizing. Your lips are on his before you know it, and it feels just right to open your mouth as he sucks on your bottom lip, letting out a soft moan. His hands are groping you, holding you up by your ass, snaking underneath your bikini bottoms. In here it truly feels like only you and him exist, and you release into that feeling, into the realization of just how strong your feelings for him are. You keep kissing him, small pecks of love, running your fingers through his hair and brushing it out of his face. You tug on it gently, not knowing if he likes that but so intoxicated by the pleasure you're feeling. Yunho groans, making you tug harder, your breathing speeding up from his reaction.

"I wanna fuck you out here," he says over the rushing water, his lips swollen from the kiss. You groan, grinding your hips into his as you lick across his lower lip, coaxing his mouth open again. Your tongues swipe over each other, you both incredibly hungry for more.

"Follow me," he says, starting to make his way back out of the cave. The bright sun feels shocking for a moment when you exit the dimness of the cave, but it feels wonderful. Like you've been transported back to literal paradise. You follow behind him as he swims towards the muddy bank of the lake, the part that boarders a bunch of trees and is relatively shady. When you arrive he lifts you up, sitting you down on the side of the lake where he can reach you.

His lips are back on yours in moments, his hands now able to explore the entirety of your bikini, snaking underneath your top to feel your chest, rubbing his thumbs enticingly over your nipples that are already hard from the cool water. A gentle breeze blows through the woods, making your wet skin feel cold. Your body shivers, from the breeze and from Yunho's touch, and you sigh in pleasure.

"Can I take this off?" Yunho asks as he tugs at your bikini, and you nod, starting to help him remove it. "Wait," he stops you, just for a moment. "You don't really answer me, when we're having sex. Do you like being so non-verbal?"

You just nod in response, showing him just how much it's true.

"Do you like me telling you what to do? Or do you want me to ask?" he continues.

"Either," you say, managing one word.

"And you'd tell me if you didn't like something?" he asks.

"Of course," you answer, feeling it's important. "I just don't like having to talk too much."

"I understand," Yunho nods, taking in your answer. He actually finds it incredibly hot, but again, it's not really something you've fully talked through yet. He so badly wants to know that he isn't hurting you, ever.

"Take this off then," he says, gently tugging on your bikini before pulling back from you. You throw it on the bank behind you, and it falls between two flowers in the grass.

Your feet sink into the mud as he pulls your legs again towards him, gently pushing them open. With your arms behind you, and bare chest to the sky, your naked body is on full display. Yunho's hands trace over the entirety of you, his legs still in the water as he kneels down, bringing himself closer to your center. He eyes your cunt hungrily, and it makes you throb, just how much his demeanor changes when he's finally truly in control. Your whole body buzzes from your surroundings, from the knowledge that you're in the wide open air and anyone could see.

"You like being naked in the forest, don't you," he says, seeing the way you so freely tossed your clothing, how comfortably you bore yourself to the world. You blush and giggle, soaking in the smells of the forest and grass behind you.

Yunho's hands slink down your thighs, finally coming to gently brush over your slit, when you jolt back in pain. The wimper that escapes you is pathetic, the realization of just how sensitive your pussy still is hitting you. It makes you upset, almost irrationally so.

"What's wrong baby?" he asks, immediately coming to comfortingly stroke your cheek.

"She hurts," you pout, looking down.

"Does she need a break today?" he asks.

"I guess," you say, frowning dramatically.

"That's okay baby, you don't need to be upset," he says, pulling you into a hug.

"But I want to do stuff," you whine into his shoulder.

"If your body needs a break, then we should give it a break," he says logically, making you roll your eyes. You feel petulant, and just want this time at the falls to be perfect.

"Is there anything that would help her feel better?" he asks, stroking a hand down your back.

"You could massage her," you say, smiling into him.

"What do you mean? Inside or outside?" he asks. You know it doesn't really make sense, the idea of massaging a pussy. But it makes sense to you.

"Just outside like, real gentle," you say, your voice small.

Yunho pulls back, gently bringing his hand down to your slit again. You inhale sharply at the initial contact, your body reacting without your control. But soon his methodical, slow movements up and down start to feel good. You body finally relaxes into it, your head dropping back as you soak in the warmth of the air. Yunho continues moving his fingers up and down, over and over brushing gently over your clit when he reaches the apex of his movements. The pleasure grows steadily each time and soon you're moaning softly, dropping to your elbows and spreading your legs even wider as your body starts to revel in the feeling.

"Does it feel good baby?" he asks you, and you nod your head, whining in response. He moves his thumb up to focus on your clit, gathering the wetness from your entrance and spreading it around. He adds more pressure to his small circular movements, the focus making your clit feel hot and sensitive. Waves of pleasure run down your legs and race up your abdomen, making your body feel sizzling hot in the summer air. You arch your back further, pushing yourself harder into his fingers, chasing the pleasure.

"You want more?" he asks, making you mewl in response. "I know you can take more baby, even if you're sore. Relax your pussy for me," he says before lining up his other hand, gently gathering more of your wetness on his middle finger before pushing it inside of you. You gasp instantaneously, again wincing at the initial pain. But with his other hand working your clit the pain quickly leaves you, your insides feeling like they're melting from the pleasure. His long fingers feel like they reach all the way inside of you, all the way into your guts, and it feels electric. Your breathing is ragged, your awareness no where else but your core and his fingers. "Good, you're so relaxed for me. I knew you could take it," he says, slowly pumping his finger in and out, focusing on putting pressure on that spongy sensitive spot that feels the best. "That feels good, doesn't it?" he asks, and you moan in response, almost whimpering. It makes blood rush to his cock seeing you so engrossed in how good you feel, the way you can so fully submit to him and your body and all the pleasure it gives you. "You need more," he says, no longer asking. He adds another finger, careful at first to not stretch you painfully fast. Once he can tell your body is ready for it he pumps faster, still focused on adding pressure in the right places.

Your moans are higher pitched now, your clit feeling red hot with pleasure. Your pussy is still sore but it feels so good, his movements mimicking the night before but not as rough, your body remembering everything that had transpired between the two of you the past few days. It's like everything with him; it builds, slowly, and suddenly you realize it's the best feeling in the world having him in control like this, able to read your body perfectly. A true dream come true, and it makes your head fuzzy with desire as you realize just how much you like it when he touches you all over, when he takes you out to a lake in the wide open air and touches you where anyone could see. Your careful, boring life would never have anyone suspect you like this and yet he could see, he knew. It almost feels fated that you went down this path, not knowing for so long what your true feelings were. Truly, how could this get any bett-

"Baby, stop thinking," Yunho says, bringing you back to him. And in a moment you're coming, the feeling ripping through you from your clit, making your whole body tingly with warmth and pleasure. The tightening muscles of your core are sore, but still clamp down around Yunho's fingers as you ride it out, your hips rolling to meet his movements. "Good girl, good girl," he repeats in your ear, or at least it feels like he's whispering into your ear, your eyes closed and taking in every sound so vividly. You finally lay fully flat on your back, riding out the last of your orgasm, your body limp and relaxed against the dirt and grass on the bank. Finally you blink open to look at him, seeing the blown pupils you love so much, taking his hand off your clit with a small 'too much.' He smiles at you, stroking that hand across your stomach and leaning down to kiss you, hungrily coaxing your mouth open and then pulling back to suck on your bottom lip.

***

And unbeknownst to both of you, Wooyoung watched on from behind a tree, his hand down his pants as he palms his painfully hard cock, trying to offer himself some relief. He understood Yunho's implication a mile away, and after spending a long time coming up with a good excuse, trekked his way up the hill to find you two. He really was getting incessantly horny on this trip, which wasn't completely out of the ordinary given his typical predisposition to horniness. But something on this trip especially, the amount of sex happening around him, made him feel insatiable.

As he crested the small hill before the lake he saw you two immediately, saw Yunho's hands under your bathing suit and your head thrown back in pleasure, the perfect curve of Yunho's back as he leaned into you, his hands possessively roaming. Wooyoung felt himself getting hard immediately, especially as he snuck around to between the trees, the threat of being caught adding to the arousal pooling in his pants. He saw you two talking, saw some exchange happen. And then your were stripping off your bikini, throwing it behind you, and your naked body was bare to the sky. He'd told you a million times how hot you were, and you usually laughed it off; but he truly meant it. Though he couldn't hear any of the words between you he could sense your submission and the way Yunho was taking control, the way he comforted you when you seemed to be in pain, and the way he reached down again and touched you differently. Wooyoung wished he could experience Yunho's domination, how kind and gentle it was. It wasn't his usual style, not what he usually wanted. But something about seeing the two of you together made him ever so slightly jealous; it made him think of the woman he was now involved with, how he missed her hands on him.

His hand provided him some pleasure but it just wasn't enough, just couldn't satisfy him the way he needed. His dick was hard and leaking in his shorts, and the longer he watched he just didn't care anymore; he pushed them down, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his pleasure, not caring when he heard some twigs snap under his foot. The pleasure was good, so good, but he knew it couldn't be enough for him. Did he just watch you come? God he needed the feel of someone else, the intensity of fucking another person. He needed a better look at you, needed to see all that he could, so he stepped beside the tree, a larger branch snapping under his weight and echoing against the cliff, making Yunho's head snap up.

"Wooyoung, Jesus Christ," Yunho laughed, lifting himself off of you and helping you sit up, his two fingers still inside you.

"Oh my god, Woo," you laughed too, seeing his boner even all these feet away. It made you feel good, your core clenching a moment as your realized he'd been watching.

"Sorry, I-" Wooyoung sputtered, not sure what to say. Desperately he pulled up his shorts, his cock creating an obvious tent in the material. You both keep laughing, looking over at his pathetic face, his cheeks red from being caught. Painfully, it turned him on even more, the way you both were laughing at him. "This isn't fair," he whined, trying to look away from your naked bodies.

"What do you mean?" you asked him, still laughing.

"I'm fucking horny," he whined again, his tone still pitiful, but the smirk on his face betrayed just how much he was loving this. "And you guys just keep laughing at me; I'm not even trying to be funny."

"What are you trying to do then?" Yunho asked, eyeing him.

"I-" he started, stopping himself.

"Woo, just say it," you giggled, loving every moment of seeing Wooyoung like this.

"I'm trying to- I need someone to fuck me," he blurted out, finally.

"And you're hoping it'll be me?" you jokingly batted your eyelashes at him, making his head feel fuzzy. "Or, him?" you asked, pointing at Yunho.

"Either of you, I don't care," Woo responded, his whole body flushed with how turned on he was.

"You don't prefer me?" you asked, acting like you were hurt.

"Y/n," Wooyoung groaned, his hand coming put to cover his face. "I know you're fucking with me," he sighed, trying to collect himself.

"Yeah, stop messing with poor horny Wooyoung," Yunho laughed, his hand still inside you. He liked feeling the way your pussy clenched as you teased Wooyoung; you clearly loved doing it, and he filed that thought away for later.

"You both suck," Wooyoung groaned, carefully untangling his shoe from the broken branch, making his way back towards the trail.

"Woo, maybe just ask someone instead of sneaking up on them," Yunho called, his tone light as he chuckled. Neither of you really minded his intrusion, it just probably wasn't the way he was going to succeed at his little mission.

Tumbling down the trail Wooyoung almost broke into a run, adrenaline from the conversation he'd just finished coursing through him. As he neared the cabin he tried to slow down, steadying his breaths as he spotted Mingi shooting hoops by himself, shirtless and no doubt sweaty in the afternoon heat. Taking Yunho's advice he decided to play it as cool as he could, approaching Mingi with a clear goal instead of messily stumbling up a mountain in a pure horny haze.

"Mingi!" he called out, making his way over towards the court.

"Hey Woo," Mingi replied, passing him the basketball. Wooyoung wound up, missing the basket completely, the ball bouncing away into the grass.

"You really are terrible at shooting," Mingi laughed, jogging over to pick up the ball.

"Not nice," Wooyoung pouted, his arms crossing over his chest. "I'm very good at plenty of other things," he stated, jutting out a hip.

"Oh, sure you are," Mingi joked. You weren't the only one who enjoyed messing with Wooyoung; in fact, it was kind of a default setting for most of you. It was just too fun, seeing him get all flustered and bothered in the way that he did. The crazy thing was Mingi hadn't even seen Woo's shorts yet, too focused on retrieving the basketball a moment ago.

"I am," Wooyoung fixed Mingi with a steely gaze, just as Mingi wound up for a shot. The ball bounced off the backboard, headed straight for Wooyoung, but he didn't even bother catching it as he continued to stare Mingi down.

"Woo, what are you- oh my god," Mingi laughed, finally seeing the tent in his shorts. "Did I do that?" he joked, pointing. Wooyoung's face grew pink again, that feeling of being caught doing something bad returning in full force.

"Well, yeah," Woo responded, snaking his eyes down Mingi's entire body. "You're out here playing basketball shirtless, how was I supposed to react?"

Mingi smiled and laughed, honestly flattered by Woo's admission. "So you had an anterior motive, you didn't actually want to play with me?" he asked, jogging to the back of the court to pick up the ball Woo had let go.

"Mingi, I'm horny," Wooyoung groaned, eyeing him pathetically.

"I'm shocked," Mingi responded, laughing again.

"Mingi," Woo groaned again. "I need someone to help me, to, take care of it," he mumbled, his body tingling with embarrassment.

"Just go jack off, if it's that bad," Mingi replied, shooting the basketball again. It was all so casual to him, this conversation not affecting him the way Wooyoung hoped. Well, that was a failed attempt. Grumbling something incoherent Wooyoung walked away, heading towards the back of the house until he spotted Seonghwa and Hongjoong out by the trees, laying together in the grass. He walked his way over, determined to play it right this time.

"Hi guys," he said brightly, finally coming upon them to see Hongjoong on top of Seonghwa, their lips pressed together in a deep kiss. They were more tangled together than Wooyoung realized, and he braced for the response.

"Oh my god, Woo, you fucking scared me," Hongjoong sputtered, lifting himself enough to look at him. "What's up?" he asked, confused by the sudden interruption.

"How- how are you guys, doing?" Wooyoung asked hesitantly, trying to tread lightly.

"Um, good. We're kind of in the middle of something," Hongjoong replied, Seonghwa holding back a laugh underneath him.

"I know, I- um-" Woo stuttered, not able to come out with it.

"Woo, is something wrong?" Hongjoong asked, getting annoyed.

"No, I'm-"

"Okay then what are you doing! We're clearly in the middle of something!" he nearly yelled, his dick hard in his pants and frustrated with the lack of action he was getting. Wooyoung pouted, the sharp sound of Hongjoong's voice penetrating through him. He liked being yelled at like that.

"He probably wants to join us," Seonghwa laughed, his body still lax against the grass.

"Oh, I should have guessed," Hongjoong replied, laughing too. A moment lapsed, the two of them giggling into each other, before their faces came close again. But just before they could kiss again Seonghwa held his hand against Hongjoong's shoulder, stopping him.

"Woo, seriously, we want to spend some quality time just the two of us," Seonghwa said, his voice gentle but his demand clear.

"God, all of you suck," Wooyoung huffed before turning on his heel, stalking his way back towards the cabin. He now had his sights set on the bathroom, his needs growing too severely now for him to keep wasting time hoping that one of you would join him. It was time to deal with this himself, even if it wouldn't compare to what he really wanted.

When he busted through the door he didn't even consider acting normal for everyone; his desperation was too severe. Ari noticed his strange demeanor right away, pulling him aside in the hallway.

"What's wrong?" he asked, her voice soft.

"Nothing, nothing," Wooyoung replied, trying not to be driven crazy by how attentive she was being. God, he really just needed to lock himself in that bathroom and get this shit over with.

"Woo, clearly it's something," she said eyeing his crotch, wracking her brain for what exactly it could be.

"I really shouldn't have worn these damn shorts," Woo sighed, shaking his head at just how poor his choice was. They truly were the worst, the thin grey material leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. "Sorry, I'm just so horny right now and no one I asked was willing to, uh, sleep with me," he laughed. Saying it out loud made him realize how silly it all was, some of his tension melting away.

"Woo, I-" Ari looked over to San, seeing him engrossed in a conversation with Yeosang and Jongho. "Give me a sec, stay right here," she said before grabbing San, pulling him into their shared bedroom for a quick conversation. Soon she had returned, Wooyoung waiting patiently with his hands covering his crotch as he tried to act as normal as possible.

"Woo, come with me," Ari beckoned, holding out her hand. He grabbed it, following diligently towards the master bedroom. Once inside Ari sat him on a chair, her and San facing him while they sat on their bed.

"Woo, you seem very in need, and well, we're offering to help you," Ari started, not a single awkward pause tainting her sentence.

"Wait, really?" Woo asked looking between the two of them, absolutely shocked. They were the last people he'd ever have thought would be open to this, mostly because he'd never even met San and had no way of knowing what sort of thing he was into. But even Ari, she'd never seemed like the kind of person who'd want to share.

"Yes really. We can, tonight, if you want to," she finished, San nodding along. They'd actually discussed this possibility of this exact scenario about a month before, both laughing at the time about how unlikely it was to really happen. But they both found Wooyoung attractive, and decided they wouldn't rule out the idea of messing around with him together. At that time San had only seen pictures and spoken to Woo on the phone a few times; still, his interest was piqued.

"I-" Woo stuttered again, his words failing him badly with how fuzzy his head had felt for nearly the entire afternoon. "I don't know if, if my girlfriend will like it," he suddenly blurted out, surprising everyone, including himself.

"You have a girlfriend?" Ari asked.

"Yeah, that woman Mingi told you guys about, that choreographer," he responded.

"So things are really that serious, between you two?" Ari asked, so curious. There was no judgement in her tone, this was just truly a bit out of character for Wooyoung.

"We haven't discussed it yet," Woo replied, his own eyes still wide.

"Why didn't you invite her to come along?" San asked him, smiling at how genuine Woo's surprise clearly was.

"I- I didn't even think to," Wooyoung sighed, shaking his head.

"You should text her, we've still got a few days. And aren't your cousins leaving tomorrow morning? That'll free up some space on the couches," Ari said, smiling genuinely at Wooyoung.

"Fuck, I should," Woo smiled, the corners of his lips turning up ever so slightly. "I'm sorry guys, I hope I'm not making you feel rejected or anything, by saying no. I'd gladly fuck both of you, any day," he finished, making them both laugh.

"Don't apologize Woo, it's no big deal. Go, go text her," Ari responded, shooing Wooyoung out of the room. It was honestly so adorable how genuine Wooyoung was being, so careful with this woman's feelings, and it made Ari so happy to see her friend experiencing what all of you had wanted for him for so long.

***

The day pulled to an end, the sun starting to fall beyond the tree line, covering the sky in a beautiful subtle shade of orange. S'mores were on the menu tonight, the whole group of you gathered around the fire pit as Yunho and Mingi stoked the fire, their faces lit up with the brilliant light of the flames. You sat wrapped up in Yunho's hoodie again, yawning hard as you shivered in the cold air of the night. Earlier, when you'd finally made it back to the cabin, you'd realized your skin was burnt, and it only took a few hours for the exhaustion to start setting in. So much for trying to be careful, you thought. But it really was worth it today, getting to spend all that time alone with Yunho.

"How was everyone's day?" Ari asks from San's lap, a blanket wrapped around the two of them.

"So good," you smile at her, and she waggled her eyebrows at you, making you laugh. "I wish I could go to that waterfall, like, every weekend," you say, a murmur of agreement passing through the group.

"I'm sure Wooyoung wishes you could do that too," Yunho adds, looking over at Wooyoung with a smirk.

"Do tell," Ari prompts him, seeing clearly he has a story to share.

"Well, Woo came and interrupted me and y/n while we were, you know, in the middle of the things out by the lake. It was funny," he laughs, smiling at you.

"He did the same to us," Hongjoong responds, making both you and Yunho's eyebrows jump up.

"Woo I told you not to sneak up on anyone else," Yunho chastises him, laughing harder.

"Damn Woo, you really asked everyone today," Mingi laughs, smirking.

"You all are such cunts," Wooyoung responds, fighting back the laughter himself. "You just keep rubbing it in my damn face how you're having sex every goddamn day we're here."

"I haven't been," Mingi retorts, earning an eye roll form Wooyoung.

"Okay well you're rubbing it in my face how perfect your body is, so yeah, you still qualify as a cunt," Wooyoung responds.

"Did you text your girlfriend Woo?" Ari asks.

"Girlfriend?" you ask, looking at him expectantly.

"Yes, girlfriend. And yes I did; she said she has to check her schedule but she's probably coming tomorrow," Woo responds, looking almost nervous.

"Oh my god Woo, this is so exciting!" Ari responds.

"Wait, are you two like, together together? Officially?" you ask. Woo nods, that shy smile not leaving his lips.

"Look at him, he's growing up," Seonghwa sighs, making you all laugh. There is a palpable relief washing through the group, at seeing Wooyoung willing to explore a relationship again after swearing everything about love off so long ago. High school relationships can be so scarring, and a big part of you felt so thankful you never even considered dating at that age, despite at the time feeling like you were missing out on something to integral to growing up.

"And what's the deal with you two?" Ari eyes you and Yuho, smiling at the way your eyes can't even meet hers.

"We haven't talked about it yet, we'll tell you guys in our own time," Yunho responds, not angry by any means but firm enough to shut down the line of inquiry.

"Things are good," you add, seeing the curious looks of everyone.

"Your boyfriend is really cool, by the way," Jongho says to Ari, earning a small chorus of 'so true' and 'I agree' from the group.

"Thank you, that's so nice to hear," Ari responds, snuggling closer in San's lap. "You always worry what people will think of your boyfriend, especially your favorite people."

"He seems basically perfect," you say, Ari's face lighting up with a smile. San has finally lost the battle with himself, his own face curling into a shy smile that makes his dimples pop.

"Aw look, he's blushing!" Mingi calls, making you all break into giggles once again. "Here, who wants the first one?" he asks holding up a toasty marshmallow, Wooyoung holding out his plate of graham crackers and chocolate. "Be careful guys, they're gonna be really hot," he says as he pops another marshmallow on his stick, carefully holding it the perfect distance above the now-steady fire. Eventually you all have hot marshmallows on your plate, the chocolate melty inside the delicious sugary sandwich you all are enjoying. Well, everyone except you has melty chocolate, because of course chocolate was one of those pesky things you couldn't eat. Still you enjoyed the treat, resting your head against the back of your chair as you all chowed down, the group falling into near silence.

"She said she can come tomorrow morning," Wooyoung suddenly announces after checking his phone, the light from the sun nearly totally gone now. You all murmur in approval, genuinely excited to meet this woman who your dear friend so cares about. Soon everyone is done, wiping their faces as they finish the last of their s'mores, the fire slowly starting to die as Yunho and Mingi let it burn out. In the darkness of the night you can see so many starts, the sight always taking your breath away when you have the chance to see it. You lay staring up for a while, trying to find the constellations you know, your eyes eventually feeling too heavy to hold open. Soon you're woken from your slumber by Yunho, as he carries you inside to properly go to bed, your head resting against his shoulder as he carries you. You're out moments after snuggling into the soft sheets of your bed nook, your mind enveloped in a comforting darkness after the wonderful day you'd just had.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Breakfast III

Ellie Carpenter x Daniëlle van de Donk x Child!Reader

Summary: The match against Arsenal

You don't know how you feel now that Beth is back.

You don't hate her. You don't think you can ever hate Beth. She used to do your bubble baths and read you stories with funny voices.

But...You don't want to see her. You don't want to have to play nice with her and be friendly.

You walk out with Ellie for the match and make sure not to wriggle away even when she teasingly flicks your ear. Usually, you walk out with Mamma but she's playing super sub today and Ellie scooped you up before you could scamper away.

Beth waves at you in the tunnel and you shrink away.

"You can just tell her to fuck off, pipsqueak," Ellie says as you walk out with her.

"Mamma says you swear like a sailor and not to listen to you," You reply and Ellie looks a bit hurt by that.

"She said that? Clearly, she's never heard herself. Talk about a potty mouth."

"Don't be mean to my Mamma!" You say back, glaring though there's very little anger in your tone.

"Right," Ellie says," Well I think little pipsqueaks who turn on their partners in crime should run back to their Mammas."

You huff. "Play good, Ellie," You say begrudgingly because Ellie's ruffling your hair.

"Of course I will," Ellie boasts," I'm amazing."

You dig your fingers into her side. "Humble, too." You run off to Mamma a moment before Ellie can retaliate.

You're all smiles as you approach before you make eye contact with Beth and it immediately drops when she gives you a special little wave she always used to.

You get the icky feeling in your stomach and rush to hide your face in Mamma's shirt.

She presses the back of your head into her, rubbing over your hair softly. "What's wrong?" She asks. Mamma isn't usually this serious with you. She's always more joking and soft. She's not a serious person.

"You've been out of it all day," She says," What's wrong? Huh?"

You glance out across the pitch as the match goes on. You pick out Ellie and Beth easily - Ellie dispossessing Beth and kicking the ball all the way up and away. You bite at your lip.

"Mamma," You say," If Beth is here...Do you still like her?"

Mamma looks a bit confused at you and she adjusts you on her lap. "Where's this coming from, huh? You can still be friends with Beth if-"

You shake your head, your bottom lip wobbling. "I don't want to be friends with Beth!" You cry out," I don't! I don't! I don't!"

Mamma looks alarmed at your sudden influx of emotions and she immediately reaches out for a blanket to cover you with. She cups your face.

"Okay," She says to you softly," You don't want to be friends with Beth. That's okay. Can you explain why though?"

You can't though and you huff out a big sigh and rest against Mamma's collarbone. You clamp your fist around her top. "No," You say," I just...It's different. We've got Ellie now." You stop for a moment just to suck in a ragged breath. "I don't need Beth like I used to. I'm sorry."

"Okay." Mamma's fingers run up and down the length of your spine. A kiss is pressed to your temple. "Thank you for telling me. You don't have to be friends with Beth, alright? You don't have to pretend that everything's okay with her when you feel differently. You never need to apologise for your feelings."

You sniffle. "Thank you, Mamma."

You're more settled after that, happy to turn in Mamma's arms and watch the match.

Arsenal puts up a good fight but no one is beating Lyon today. You happily clap your hands and stand on Mamma's lap to get the best view.

It's a few minutes before Mamma's meant to come on that everything goes to hell. She's already started warming up so you're sat between Ada and Lindsey, who are meant to be resting for the match.

You're leaning away from Lindsey's tickling hands when Beth comes streaking down your side of the pitch, right in front of the bench and tackles Ellie to the ground.

It's not exactly the cleanest of tackles and their legs get tangled with each other and you're on your feet as soon as you catch a glimpse of Ellie's pained face.

Mamma catches you quickly, intercepting you as she jogs back to the bench while you peel away from your babysitters. "Hey," She says softly," Hey, no. You can't interfere. You know the rules."

"Ellie!" You cry out, reaching for her as the medics swarm around her prone body," Ellie!"

Beth gets up with no injuries of her own and it makes your blood boil. It's completely unfair that she gets to just walk away while you and Mamma's Ellie are left hobbling off.

"Ellie!" You try to squirm out of Mamma's grip but it's like iron and she walks you over slowly.

"You're not worried about little old me, are you pipsqueak?" Ellie teases even as she winces.

Mamma leaves to get subbed on and you pad to Ellie's side.

"You're hurt," You say," Is it bad?"

"A week or so of rest," She says," But that's it. A nasty tumble, that's all."

You sniffle a lot and bite the inside of your cheek so you don't cry. "Are you sure? Promise?"

"Promise, pipsqueak," She says," I wouldn't lie to you."

You believe her and you harshly wipe away your tears to curl into her side.

You do it so naturally that Ellie's a little shocked. She knows, of course, that you tolerate her in your house, in your space, in your company. She knows that you're at least semi-happy about her relationship with Daan but this is a whole new ballpark.

She hadn't even considered that you would be so emotional about her getting injured. It's barely a scrape really and the week off is more so making sure it doesn't turn into something serious but you're treating it like she's broken her leg or something.

She holds you tight against her side as you sag into her grip, matching your breathing so both of your chests are rising and falling in sync.

You stay next to her for the rest of the match and you make sure to hold Ellie's hand nice and tight when you head onto the pitch to shake everyone's hands.

You shove your way in front of Ellie and cross your arms over your chest.

"Go away," You say to Beth as she approaches," Go away!" Your whole little body shakes with an unexplained emotion deep in your gut. "I won't let you hurt her!"

"I'm not going to hurt her," Beth tries to assure you and you can't settle," Why do you think I'm going to hurt her?"

You won't settle not with you and Mamma's Ellie standing behind you. You clench your hands into fists. You don't know why you want to cry. You shouldn't want to cry but you do.

"You shouldn't hurt people!" You say through the choked-up feeling in your throat," I won't let you!"

You're full-on crying now as you try to stay strong to protect Ellie.

Mamma notices though and breaks off her conversation with Viv to kneel in front of you. "What's wrong?" She asks," What happened?" She looks wildly between all of the adults then back to you.

"I won't let Beth hurt Ellie!" You say through heartbroken sobs," Not like me!"

"Not like you?" Mamma echoes," Oh, y/n, it's okay."

"What do you mean I hurt you?" Beth is wary in approaching you, just out of arms reach. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. Can you tell me when?"

You wipe your nose on Mamma's jersey and soak in the warmth of Ellie at your back.

"When-When me and Mamma left and I never saw you again..." You sniffle again and lay your head, exhausted, on Mamma's shoulder. "You can't come back and be friends with me. I'm not little anymore!"

A fresh wave of tears drop from your eyes as Beth inches a little closer.

"I'm sorry," She says softly," I'm very sorry I hurt your feelings. And I'm sorry I tried to pick up where we left off without thinking about how much bigger you've gotten. I'm very, very sorry."

"Go on," Ellie says softly in your ear, rubbing your back.

You look up at Beth over Mamma's shoulder. "I'm sorry for not using my grown-up words but not for my feelings because I should never have to apologise for my feelings."

Ellie snickers a little bit behind you but Beth offers her fist for you to bump your own against.

You do it cautiously and Beth smiles at you.

"I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Yeah."