#its the way she holds her coffee mug in the morning

[cutemeat]

so whats mac’s equivalent to the pen chewing thing in this verse……

[fic-girlie]

Everywhere With You

!made by request! Well i had one where the reader has tickets to fleetwood mac for pedros bday and she surprises him with it cause she knows hes a big fan (so is she) and they go either the 2 of them or with friends and family and at the concert they are really close together there and he keeps hugging her and holding her and tells her its ths best bday gift ever and later they go celebrate at a bar or dinner and the end with smut?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: You surprise Pedro with Fleetwood Mac concert tickets for his birthday. After a night filled with music and emotion, you return home, where the chemistry between you intensifies.

Warnings: 18+ explicit, smut, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, fluff, established relationship (If I left out something, tell me!)

Part 2: Here with You

The sun had just started to stretch across the hardwood floors when you slid quietly out of bed.

Pedro didn’t stir as you moved, only shifted slightly beneath the covers and let out a soft, content sigh. You paused for a second, watching him. There was something holy about the way he slept—arms loose, lashes long against his cheeks, the faintest crease between his brows like he was dreaming about something serious. His hair was a tousled halo against the pillow, and one strong leg had kicked out from underneath the blanket sometime during the night.

You smiled to yourself and padded into the kitchen barefoot, the chill of the morning tile meeting your toes. Everything had to be perfect. The little things mattered—especially to a man like Pedro. He never said so outright, but you saw it: the way he softened when you remembered how he took his coffee, the way his arms tightened around you when you tucked a note into his jean pocket before he left for a shoot. Thoughtfulness made him unravel.

And today wasn’t just any day.

You hummed a bit of Everywhere under your breath as you got to work—eggs with soft yolk, toast spread with the raspberry jam from the little farmers’ market he loved, thick-cut bacon fried just enough to curl at the edges. His favourite mug sat waiting for him, filled with black coffee. Everything smelled warm, familiar. Like the two of you.

The envelope was already tucked beneath the corner of the napkin on the tray. Just two slim pieces of paper inside but holding something so much bigger. You had kept them hidden for months, waiting for this. And now it was time.

You nudged open the bedroom door with your hip, tray balanced in your hands, the smell of breakfast following you in.

Pedro was still there in the same position, only now one hand had drifted up to rest over his chest, fingers curling slightly. His mouth parted at the scent and his brow twitched—just barely—but he didn’t wake up.

So you tiptoed to the edge of the bed and whispered, “Pedro…”

A low, sleepy groan rolled out of his chest like thunder in the distance. “Mmm?”

“Happy birthday, sleepyhead.”

He stirred, face turning into the pillow before he peeked out at you through one barely open eye. The corner of his mouth lifted. “You’re too sweet to me, hermosa.”

You set the tray down on the nightstand and leaned in, brushing your lips over his forehead, then the tip of his nose. “It’s your birthday. That means you get spoiled.”

Pedro blinked up at you, still groggy, still gorgeous in that half-woken way that made your heart flutter. “That smells like bacon.”

“It is bacon. Crispy, just how you like it. There are eggs and jam toast too. And coffee. I even made it extra hot since you like to forget about it until it’s cold.”

He let out a raspy laugh and finally pushed himself up to sit, groaning softly as the sheet slid down his bare chest. Your eyes followed the movement—broad shoulders, warm tan skin, the sparse trail of hair down his stomach disappearing into the waistband of the boxers you’d half torn off last night.

He caught you staring and smirked, voice still thick with sleep. “Enjoying the view?”

You lifted your brows, handing him the coffee. “Only the birthday boy gets that kind of attention.”

“Oh, so I’m in luck.”

He sipped the coffee and groaned again—this time in pleasure. “You really are trying to kill me with kindness.”

“Nope,” you said, climbing back onto the bed and settling beside him. “I’m just soft for you.”

Pedro gave you a crooked little smile, then leaned in and kissed the side of your head. You felt it through your whole body.

As he started in on the eggs, you nestled into his side, your cheek pressed to his shoulder, breathing in his warmth, the scent of skin and sleep and that little bit of cologne that lingered from the night before.

“Don’t forget the envelope,” you said casually, after he’d finished the last bite.

“What envelope?”

You gestured at the napkin.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then leaned over to pick it up. “You got me a card?”

“I got you more than a card.”

Pedro peeled the flap open slowly, the pulled out the two tickets. You watched as the words registered.

Fleetwood Mac. Tour concert. Tonight. 7:00 PM. And two seats—good seats. Close to the stage. Close enough to feel the reverb in your bones.

His entire body went still. He read the top line twice, three times, then looked at you in stunned silence.

“No…” His voice cracked. “You didn’t.”

You bit your lip and nodded. “We’re going tonight.”

For a moment, you weren’t sure he was breathing. He just stared at the tickets like they were some ancient artifact. Then, all at once, he broke into a grin that could have lit up the whole damn room.

“You’re joking,” he whispered.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You go us Fleetwood Mac tickets?”

“Yes.”

“For tonight?”

“Yes.”

He let out a half-sob, half-laugh and dropped the envelope on the bed as he surged forward and kissed you—mouth hot and open and smiling into yours, his hands sliding into your hair as he cradled your face.

You laughed into the kiss as he pulled you into his lap, practically crushing you to him, arms wrapped tightly around your back.

“I love you,” he whispered, over and over, between kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You cupped his cheeks, ran your thumbs gently under his eyes, and said, “I wanted to give you something you’d never forget.”

“This is…” He shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve wanted to see them since I was a teen. My siblings and I used to sneak into the living room late at night to watch those old concert videos on VHS.”

“I remember,” you said softly, resting your forehead to his. “That’s why I knew.”

Pedro’s eyes glassed over, and he let out a soft, shaky breath.

“You’re gonna make me cry,” he said, and laughed through it. “Jesus.”

“They’re probably going to play Landslide,” you murmured. “So you’re definitely going to cry.”

He gave a helpless smile, eyes wet, and pulled you into a slower, deeper kiss. This one lingered. His hands slid along your spine, tracing up under the hem of your sleep shirt, warm palms smoothing over your bare back.

When he pulled away, his voice had dropped low and husky. “I don’t even care what else happens today. This… this is already the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m not done yet.”

He blinked. “What?”

You shrugged playfully. “There’s more.”

Pedro stared at you like you’d hung the stars yourself. “More?”

“Dinner. After the concert. Late reservation at your favourite place—you know, the one with the garlic bread you love so much it makes you emotional?”

He groaned dramatically, burying his face in your neck. “You’re gonna be the death of me, mujer. You really thought of everything.”

“I wanted you to feel loved,” you whispered.

He looked up at you again, softer now. Like you were something precious he didn’t know how to hold gently enough.

“I feel it,” he said. “Every second I’m with you.”

You stayed curled in his lap for a long while, just breathing together, kisses pressed to bare shoulders, hands tangled, the envelope resting on the covers beside you. Pedro held you like he was afraid he might wake up and find it was all a dream.

Pedro had barely stopped smiling since you gave him the concert tickets.

His face was still flushed with that golden kind of happiness—the kind that shimmered just beneath the surface, softening his eyes and curving his mouth even when he wasn’t speaking. The scent of his coffee, mingled with your shampoo and the lingering crispness of breakfast hung in the air between you.

You tilted your head, watching his profile. The delicate creases around his eyes. The flutter of his lashes as he looked down at the concert tickets again, rereading the seat details as if he needed to be sure it was real.

“I can’t believe we’re seeing Fleetwood Mac and after that we go to my favourite place,” he murmured.

You smiled gently, your fingertips brushing the back of his neck. “That’s still not all.”

He blinked, turning his head slightly to look at you, brows lifting. “What do you mean?”

“There’s one more part to your birthday gift,” you said softly, and felt your heartbeat begin to pick up. “A surprise for tomorrow.”

Pedro tilted his head, narrowing his eyes in that playfully suspicious way he always did when he was trying to read you. “Okay… should I be nervous?”

“Not nervous,” you said, cupping his jaw and smoothing your thumb over the hinge of it. “Just… open.”

He laughed under his breath, but the sound was quieter now. More curious. “Alright. I’m open.”

You exhaled slowly, threading your fingers through his and holding them between both of yours. You wanted him to feel the warmth of your hands, the steadiness of your grip. You wanted him to feel grounded. Safe.

“I’ve been working on this for a few weeks now,” you began, your voice low and steady. “Coordinating flight times, making sure it would all line up. I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure it was happening.”

Pedro’s brow furrowed faintly, lips parting. He sat up a little straighter, but he didn’t pull away.

“I know how much you miss them,” you went on, heart beginning to flutter with the weight of it. “How much you miss home—even when you don’t say it. I see it when you get off the phone with your sisters. I see it in the way your voice gets quiet when you talk about the little pranks you pulled on your brother when you were younger. I see it when you stare at photos a little too long.”

Pedro’s eyes were fixed on you now. Still and focused, the way he always looked at you when something touched deep.

You swallowed. “So… tomorrow morning, your family’s flying in. All of them. They’ll be here for a couple of days.”

His breath caught. You felt it—sharp and sudden.

“They're staying at a hotel nearby,” you said softly. “But they're coming here first. For breakfast. Pajamas and cafecito and pan dulce if I can find it in time. I told them you'd want it casual. Comfortable. Just... family.”

He didn't speak. Not right away.

He just stared at you, jaw slack, lips parted in silent shock. His hands went still in yours.

You reached for his face, your palm cradling his cheek. “Pedro—”

His eyes welled instantly.

The shift was like sunlight behind clouds—barely a flicker, but it changed everything. The glimmer of tears turned his warm brown gaze into something luminous. He swallowed hard, but the emotions hit him before he could hide them, and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

You leaned in and kissed it away.

“I couldn't stand the thought of you spending another birthday missing them,” you whispered against his skin. “So I brought them to you.”

Pedro laughed—wet, shaky, disbelieving. He covered his face with one hand, dragging it down slowly as more tears slipped free.

“I—” He shook his head. “I don't even know what to say. You... You did that for me?”

“I'd do it a thousand times,” you said, voice thick with emotion. “You're the most generous, selfless man I've ever known. You give so much of yourself to everyone. You deserve to be surrounded by people who love you. Not just through a screen. Not just in messages.”

He dropped his hand from his face and looked at you again, eyes raw, lips trembling with the effort to keep from falling apart.

“I missed them so much,” he whispered, and your heart cracked open a little wider.

“I know, honey, “you murmured, pressing your forehead to his. “I know.”

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you fully into his chest, his body trembling just slightly with the quiet force of his emotions. You held him close, letting him breathe through it, your fingers curling into his curls at the nape of his neck, grounding him.

He didn't speak for a while. He just held you. Like you were the only thing in the world that made him feel real.

Eventually, he murmured, “You love me so much it hurts.”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. “Always.”

“Tomorrow, when your siblings ring the bell, I want to see that smile again. The one you haven't shown since the last time you were home.”

Pedro leaned in and kissed you—slow and aching, the kind of kiss that said more than words ever could.

And when he finally pulled back, his voice was quiet but certain. “Yeah. This is definitely the best birthday I've ever had.”

——

By the time the sun began to slip behind the edge of the city skyline, the sky had turned that dusky watercolour blend of blush and indigo, like something painted just for the evening. The venue buzzed around you, a living pulse of conversation, laughter, anticipation—but all Pedro could feel was your hand in his.

His fingers were threaded tightly with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand like he couldn’t stop touching you, couldn’t stop reminding himself you were real and this was really happening.

“Have I told you I love you for this?” he murmured as you handed your tickets to the usher.

You glanced up at him with a smile that made his chest squeeze. “Only about six times since we left the house. At home you said it about five.”

He gave a soft, breathy laugh, then leaned down to kiss your temple. “Good. I’m not done.”

The usher led you toward the lower rows, the lights dimming gently overhead as the stage came into view—wide, simple, elegant, with vintage amps glowing under strands of overhead lights. Pedro slowed as you reached your seats, letting the moment sink into him, letting the reality bloom fully in his chest.

Front section. Dead centre. Nothing between you and the stage but the warm summer air and a few rows of swaying bodies.

He turned to you and took a step closer. “These seats are—damn, cariño. You weren’t playing around.”

“I wanted it to be perfect,” you said, fingers brushing his arm. “I wanted you to feel it. The music. The moment. All of it.”

He didn’t speak for a second. His face softened, lips parting, eyes flicking over your features like he was memorizing you. Then he gently took your face in his hands and kissed you—right there, in the slow-humming twilight, with the chatter of strangers around you and the smell of warm popcorn in the breeze.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your mouth. “Thank you for loving me like this.”

You reached up and rested your palms over his wrists. “Always.”

The lights dimmed further. The crowd began to rise and stir, voices lifting in a low wave of anticipation. Pedro kept you close, his arm snug around your waist now, anchoring you beside him. When the band took the stage and that first familiar chord rang out—low, electric, rich with history—Pedro inhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years.

His body went still, reverent. And then he laughed, quiet and breathless, a sound you felt more than heard.

“God,” he murmured. “This song. I swear it’s tattooed on my ribs.”

You turned your head, smiling against the shell of his ear. “Let it break you a little.”

He looked at you with that melted, love-struck expression he wore only in the softest moments, and nodded. “You first.”

The music swelled, and suddenly, you were surrounded—guitar harmonies stretching out across the night like silk, Stevie’s voice a haunting, familiar echo that felt like home and heartbreak all at once.

Pedro’s arm tightened around you. His other hand slipped down to your thigh, warm and steady. He didn’t just listen—he felt every note, every beat, like the songs lived inside him.

“I played this track,” he said near your ear, during The Chain, “every time I drove through the outskirts of New York. Windows down. Hair a mess. Swore I was in a movie.”

You grinned. “You are in a movie.”

He laughed, his breath warm against your cheek. “Then you’re my favourite scene.”

As the night wore on, he couldn’t stop touching you.

Sometimes it was subtle—his fingertips grazing the inside of your wrist, his palm resting low on your spine. Other times it was more obvious: pulling you against him during Dreams, his shoulder pressed to yours as you swayed gently together; brushing your hair back and tucking it behind your ear during Gypsy, then tilting your face up for a kiss that lingered through the chorus.

But it was Landslide that changed everything.

The first note landed like a sigh through the crowd, and Pedro’s whole body stilled. You glanced over and saw it: the catch in his throat, the shimmer rising in his eyes. He blinked slowly, then reached for your hand and brought it to his chest, laying it over his heart like he needed you to feel it beating.

“This song,” he whispered, voice cracking. “It carried me through some of the loneliest fucking years of my life.”

You leaned in and kissed his shoulder. “Then let it carry you through this one, too.”

He turned his head and kissed you—deep and slow and trembling a little at the edges. When he pulled back, there were tears in his eyes, one trailing down the curve of his cheek.

You reached up and brushed it away with your thumb, your heart thick with emotion.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Pedro exhaled shakily. “You saved me. You know that, right?”

You nodded and pressed your forehead to his. “Then let me keep saving you. Every year.”

He closed his eyes and held you, tight and full and wordless, as Stevie Nicks’ voice floated into the stars.

By the end of the show, the crowd was roaring with joy—but Pedro didn’t move. He stayed wrapped around you, arms snug, mouth pressed to your hair.

“I don’t want this night to end,” he murmured.

“It doesn’t have to,” you said softly, tilting your face to meet his eyes. “There’s more to come.”

He looked at you, wide-eyed and glowing from the inside out. “You’re gonna be the reason I start believing in magic.”

You laughed gently, nose brushing his. “Let’s go to dinner.”

He nodded slowly, reluctantly unwrapping himself from you. “But I’m warning you,” he said, voice low and playful as he kissed your cheek, “I’m going to keep touching you the whole time.”

You smirked and tucked your hand into his as you turned toward the exit. “Good. I’m not done touching you either.”

——

The restaurant was a warm pocket of golden light tucked away in the quiet hills above the city—far enough from downtown that no one bothered with flash photography or autographs, just the hum of jazz and the low clinking of glassware. From the moment you stepped inside, it was like the world softened around the edges.

Pedro’s hand rested low on your back as the host led you in. He leaned close, his breath warm against your ear. “This is perfect.”

You smiled and tilted your head toward his. “I wanted the night to keep feeling special.”

“It does,” he murmured. “You do that. Just by being here.”

The host showed you to a small corner table surrounded by tall potted plants and dark wood—intimate and private, just enough shadow to keep everything between you soft and golden. Pedro pulled out your chair before settling into his, his eyes never really leaving yours. Even in the dim lighting, the affection in them was unmistakable.

A candle flickered between you, its light catching the edge of his features—the strong curve of his jaw, the warm brown of his eyes, the tired but blissful glow still lingering from the concert. His hair was a little mussed from the wind, his smile slow and a little dazed, like he still hadn’t quite come down.

“Stevie Nicks and then this?” he said with a soft laugh, picking up his wine glass and holding it up to you. “I don’t know how you’re ever gonna top tonight.”

You clinked your glass gently against his. “I don’t need to. I just want you to feel loved.”

He stared at you for a long, quiet moment. Then his fingers reached across the table, sliding along yours until your hands met again. “I do. So much it scares me sometimes.”

You didn’t speak right away. Just looked at him—really looked—at the way he was still in awe, the way his voice dropped when he got serious, the way his thumb rubbed small, grounding circles against your palm like he couldn’t believe you were real.

You ran your fingers up his wrist slowly. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m not going anywhere.”

Pedro exhaled, and it came out like relief. “You mean that.”

You nodded. “I mean that.”

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “Then I’m yours. Completely.”

The wine helped, of course—rich and red and slow on the tongue—but even without it, you could feel the warmth blooming between you. It wasn’t just the music from earlier or the candlelight or even the fancy little plates of food you shared without thinking. It was him. And you. And the unspoken pull that had been tightening ever since he looked at you under the concert lights with tears in his eyes.

Conversation drifted easily between laughs and deep glances. He told you about old memories—his first time hearing Tusk on vinyl in a friend’s garage, the way his heart used to ache for things he didn’t even know how to name. You told him how you used to sing Silver Springs into your pillow as a teenager, how the music made you feel seen when nothing else did.

He was quiet for a beat after that, eyes lingering on your mouth like the words had etched themselves there.

Then he said, “You understand me in ways no one else ever has.”

Your breath hitched. You didn’t mean to, but you reached for him under the table, fingers resting on his thigh. His eyes darkened.

The music in the restaurant was soft, the piano barely a whisper beneath it all. You could feel his leg tense beneath your hand as he leaned forward, voice low and rough around the edges.

“Can I tell you something?” he murmured.

“Always.”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about touching you. Since the concert. Since the second your hand brushed my knee during The Chain. I’ve been trying to behave and be patient and savour every part of tonight but—” he exhaled sharply, almost smiling, “—you’ve been driving me crazy, cariño.”

Your breath caught at the heat in his voice.

You leaned closer. “So stop trying to behave.”

His eyes met yours, and the quiet tension that had been coiling all night finally stretched into something unmistakable: want. Real, deep, consuming.

“I don’t think I can wait much longer,” he said. “I want to take you home. I want to worship you, properly. Slowly. Every inch of you.”

You swallowed, heat curling low in your belly. “Then let’s go.”

Pedro pulled out his wallet, dropped the money with a generous tip on the table without looking, and stood. His hand found yours immediately, lacing your fingers together tightly. You didn’t even bother with dessert. His attention was fully on you now—hungry, reverent, and visibly aching with the need he’d been holding back.

As you stepped into the cool night, he leaned in and kissed your shoulder through your dress, voice husky against your skin.

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me tonight.”

You smiled and looked up at him. “Show me.”

He didn’t speak again. He just led you to the car, opened the door like a gentleman, and once you were inside—he reached across the seat, placed his hand over your thigh, and let it stay there the whole drive home.

The silence between you was electric.

And it was only the beginning.

——

The door clicked shut behind you both, and the quiet of the house wrapped around you like a soft, familiar embrace. The hum of the night settled in your chest, a warm afterglow from the concert and the dinner still pulsing between you. Pedro stood close, his hand still on your waist, his thumb brushing gentle circles against the soft fabric of your dress. The energy from the night, from the music, and from being so close to him hummed through your veins, making every step seem both deliberate and electric.

Pedro leaned in, his lips grazing the curve of your ear. “I can’t believe the night’s already over,” he murmured, voice thick with the same kind of contentment that made his eyes soft and his movements slow. “It was perfect… having you next to me.”

You turned your head slightly, catching his gaze with a playful smile. “Well, it’s not over yet.”

He tilted his head, the spark in his eyes lightning up as if the promise of more only made him more curious. “Oh?” His voice dropped low. “What do you have in mind?”

You smiled, a touch of mischief flashing in your eyes. “Come with me.”

You led him into the living room, your heels clicking lightly on the floor with each step. The house felt still, private—intimate—like a space just for the two of you. When you reached the couch, you stopped and turned to face him, the air between you electric with the unspoken words that hovered in the quiet.

Pedro stood there for a moment, his eyes darkening as they traced over you. “You’re making me wait, huh?”

You bit your lip, a subtle nervousness swirling in your stomach. But the excitement was stronger. “Just a little longer.”

He took a slow step toward you, his hands gently lifting to rest on your hips. His touch was soft, almost reverent, like he was savouring every moment. “You’ve got me all intrigued now,” he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You swallowed, your breath hitching slightly at the intensity in his gaze. “I want to show you something.”

You reached for the back of your dress, your fingers trembling slightly as you slowly unzipped it. You could feel Pedro’s gaze on you, like a touch of its own, heat radiating from him. You slid the dress off your shoulders with deliberate slowness, the fabric brushing against your skin as it fell to the floor in a soft heap.

The matching lingerie you had chosen for the night was now fully visible: deep red lace, the kind that clung to your curves like a secret, shimmering subtly in the light. You stood there for a moment, heart racing, your pulse quickening at the way Pedro’s eyes darkened, his breath catching as he took in the sight of you.

Pedro’s mouth parted, his gaze sweeping over you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He stepped toward you, his movements slow, deliberate. His hand reached for your waist, and he pulled you gently to him, his lips brushing your forehead, then your temple. “You’re… unbelievable,” he whispered, voice thick with awe. “Every inch of you, just…”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips. You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest for a moment, allowing yourself a quiet moment of tenderness. But there was a heat in the air now—a tension that was undeniable. His body was pressed against yours, and you could feel the warmth of him, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper.

Pedro’s hands slid lower, fingers brushing your curves, his touch light but sending a jolt of sensation through you. His lips brushed the top of your head as he kissed you softly, then pulled back, his gaze full of that same intensity that always seemed to make your heart beat faster. “Do what, baby?”

“Take care of you,” you replied, the words coming out with a mixture of confidence and that soft nervousness you couldn’t quite hide. “Let me show you.”

He paused for a beat, his expression flickering between disbelief and desire. Then, without another word, he moved to sit on the couch. His hand slid to the back of his neck, massaging it briefly before he spread his legs slightly, giving you room.

You felt your stomach flutter as you slowly knelt before him, your fingers brushing the tops of his thighs as you lowered yourself onto your knees.

Pedro looked down at you like he couldn’t believe you were real. One of his hands slid gently into your hair, fingers spreading wide at the nape of your neck, while the other relaxed over his thigh. “You don’t have to, baby.”

“I want to,” you whispered, voice velvet-soft, sure and steady. “Just let me take care of you.”

You kissed the inside of his thigh first, slow and teasing, watching his breath catch. His skin was warm beneath your mouth, tense under your touch. Then you reached for the waistband of his jeans, fingers moving slowly as you undid the button and zipper, watching his face the entire time. He lifted his hips slightly when you tugged his jeans and boxers down, letting them settle low on his thighs.

The moment you took him in your hand, Pedro exhaled a rough, quiet breath. “Fuck…”

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, then another lower, and another—watching the way his mouth parted, his brows knit with restraint already. He was heavy in your palm, already so hard, warm and pulsing with need. When you finally took him into your mouth, slow and deep, his hips shifted slightly, trying to stay still beneath you.

“Jesus, cariño…” he murmured, his voice thick and strained. “You’re gonna kill me…”

You hummed around him, slow and steady. You let your tongue swirl, your lips gliding in a soft, wet rhythm that made his head fall back against the couch. His grip in your hair tightened just slightly—never forcing, just anchoring. His thighs were taut beneath your hands, body tensed like a live wire.

“You look so pretty like this,” he breathed. “So fucking good. So—shit.”

You picked up the pace a little, just enough to make him curse again. His hips shifted, his breath growing shallow, body betraying how close he was already.

But just before his stomach tensed fully, before his body tipped over the edge, Pedro’s hand tightened in your hair—not rough, but firm. “Wait, wait—baby…”

You slowed instantly, looking up at him.

Pedro looked wrecked. His chest was heaving, eyes dark and hooded, a flush rising along his neck. “I—I need to stop. If you keep going, I won’t last. I wanna… I need to be inside you.”

You smiled softly, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. “Then take me.”

He picked you up like you weighed nothing, your legs around his waist, arms around his neck, lips never straying too far from yours. The walk to the bedroom was slow, his hands sliding under your thighs, the weight of him between your legs making your skin burn with want.

He set you on the bed and stepped back, finally shedding his jacket and shirt too—each piece removed with lazy confidence, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. He pulled off his jeans completely, along with his boxers, and then he knelt on the bed, between your legs, and peeled your lace panties off inch by inch.

“Pretty girl,” he murmured, brushing his lips over your inner thigh. “Bet you’re already wet for me.”

Your breath caught. “Touch me and find out.”

He growled softly at that, eyes gleaming with heat.

Then his mouth was on you.

His tongue stroked through your folds—slow, deep licks, teasing circles around your clit, then soft suckling pressure that made you cry out, hips jerking. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, keeping you open for him, completely at his mercy.

He didn’t stop until you were shaking—until the orgasm built so tight it hurt. You came with a gasp, hands fisting the sheets as he moaned into you, lapping through your release like he needed it.

When he finally pulled back, his mouth was slick with your release, just like his mustache and beard, and his eyes burned with nothing but want.

“You taste like heaven,” he whispered.

He climbed over you, kissing your mouth again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His cock, hard and heavy, pressed against your entrance.

“You sure?” he asked softly, brushing your hair from your face.

“Yes,” you breathed. “I want you.”

Pedro pushed into you with a deep, groaning breath, filling you inch by inch. He moved slowly, watching your face, kissing you between thrusts as he bottomed out.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, clutching his back.

He set a rhythm—deep, smooth strokes that had your eyes fluttering shut, your body tightening around him. He whispered praise into your skin: “So good, baby... taking me so well... fuck, you feel perfect.”

The teasing softened then. He slowed down even more—letting each thrust linger, the weight of him pressing into you, chest to chest, breath to breath.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice rough.

“I love you,” you gasped back, your climax spiraling fast now, every stroke dragging across that perfect spot.

“Come for me, hermosa” he murmured, fingers between your legs, stroking you in time with his thrusts. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

You shattered under him—your second orgasm crashing through you like a wave, thighs clenching around him, cries muffled in his neck.

He groaned loudly, hips faltering.

Pedro groaned into your neck, hips faltering. “Fuck—gonna come.”

He pulled out quickly with a strained gasp, stroking himself just once, twice—and came undone across your stomach, eyes locked with yours the entire time. His breath caught, his lips parted, and you’d never seen anything more beautiful.

When he was done, he collapsed beside you, chest heaving, one hand immediately reaching for yours.

He pressed his forehead to your shoulder, still catching his breath, and smiled against your skin.

“Best. Birthday. Ever.”

[januaryembrs]

hot chocolate!!!

what about bau!reader who’s super affectionate with spencer (and he just takes it with a blush and sugary coffee)

example; jawline kisses that are supposed to be cheek kisses instead of hello’s and goodbye’s & reader having her arm around spencer’s waist at all times cuz she’s just so used to his body warmth!!!

(for some reason i’m imagining s9 reid & new-ish reader but u can do what u want ofc!!)

FUGITIVE AFFECTIONS | Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

description: fugitive (noun) meaning escape, runaway. (adjective) meaning fleeting, brief, passing.

Length: 1.1k

warnings: fluff fluff FLUFF.

He knew what was coming the second he heard her footsteps. The coffee machine spluttered with effort as it churned out his third cup of the day, and he was already perched with the sugar waiting for the appliance to do its thing. Spencer barely had chance to acknowledge the approaching figure when he felt arms wrap around his waist, someone attaching themselves to his back with a feather light kiss to his spine. 

“Good morning,” He called over his shoulder, and you hummed, quickly squeezing the soft pooch of his stomach and releasing him. 

“Morning,” You said, and he leaned up to open the cupboard door, which wasn’t a big feat for him with his heinously long limbs. Plopping a mug down on the side, he poured coffee in your cup first before he started on his own, “Reports due today?” 

“Hotch wants the Minnesota and the Nevada cases wrapped up,” He said, sliding the milk and sugar over to your side of the counter and keeping his head down. Spencer felt his ears run hot, like they usually did whenever you got so close to him, which just happened to be always. 

He doubted the words ‘personal space’ were ever a thing in your vocabulary. It had started with Garcia, with the two of you linking arms and braiding each other's hair after two weeks of you moving to the BAU, and he’d figured that Garcia had won you over with that natural, bubbly charm of hers. But Spencer was perceptive, and he’d quickly realised the behaviour was not strictly limited to Penelope and her chirpy attitude. You tended to walk close to everyone, like you were trying to mesh you bodies in with them and the shoulder bumps and hands brushed against one another didn’t matter. In the end, rather than push you away, Morgan had taken to wrapping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you waltzed around the office together. Even Blake was succumbing to your touchy-feely attitude as you liked to cosy up next to her on the jet, usually falling asleep with your head on her shoulder, and she thought little of it now, just continuing with her crosswords unbothered. 

And then you’d set your sights on Spencer. 

He supposed you hadn’t quite got the memo about his germaphobia, or perhaps the transference of bacteria between humans during simple hand holding just never occurred to you. Yet after just a month of being desk buddies with him, he nearly jumped out of his skin the day you slipped your fingers in between his when the two of you had been paired up on a case and you were heading down the witness’s driveway to interview them. 

He’s been about to ask what the hell you were doing, or perhaps scramble to shove you off, and sanitise his hands with the emergency gel he kept in his bag at all times. But by the time he’d looked over at you, his cheeks a flaming strawberry colour with what he’d thought of as annoyance, you were simply smiling at him, and began swinging your joined hands back and forth, nudging your temple into his shoulder affectionately. 

“You look really pretty in that purple shirt, Spencer,” You said simply, and whatever scathing remark about how eighty percent of pathogens are transferred during hand holding was robbed from his gullet and he was stunned into silence. The way you’d said his name alone made his lips part in wonder, because he’d never heard it said like that. 

“T-thankyou, I like your jacket.” He cringed as soon a he said it, and the two of you looked down to your government issued FBI vest, the same one he wore, the same one Hotch wore, the same one they’d all worn for the past nine years. 

You sniggered, bumping him again with your forehead like you were a cat purring up against him, marking your territory. 

“You’re cute,”

You were full of sweet, loving words like that he realised, all buttercups and candy floss and honey and sweetie and my love and he felt himself expecting it now, biting his lip in worry if you were ever just the tiniest bit too busy to fluff him up with affection.

Like when you’d been called out by Blake on an emergency, the two of you scrambling to grab the SUV keys to go meet Morgan and JJ where they were moving into the building  after the suspect. 

The two of you had all but ran out of the precinct in the effort to catch up with the other agents, leaving Spencer, pen still in his hand as he mapped out the geographical profile, and he hadn’t realised anything was missing until he heard the door slam shut and he hadn’t felt the warmth of your hug, your hand in his hair ruffling it lovingly, not even a ‘goodbye, sweetie!’

Spencer pouted, despite the fact he’d spent the first few weeks wondering if he should be shying away from your touch because he was quickly running out of sanitizer and had yet to want you to stop. He felt like his routine had been interrupted, because that’s definitely what the source of his disappointment was, not the fact he wondered if he had done something wrong, and yet before he could think too hard about it, the door swung back open, Blake yelling something from the hallway that he could just about make out was your name, before a body crashed into his side and your lips were on his jaw, kissing him lightly through laboured breaths. 

“Bye, Spence.” You murmured, kissing up his cheek a few times to apologise for the wait, and he hadn’t even had the chance to return the favour through the fish out of water gape as he watched you run back to the door, Blake looking at you incredulously. 

“I just watched you run up three flights of stairs for that?” She asked, the door slowly closing behind you and giving him unfiltered snooping on your conversation. He smiled so wide his cheeks hurt, the same one that you had just kissed over and over again like it was a normal thing for you two, and he wondered if he could coordinate you rushing out of the office every time if it meant he’d have that again. 

“It’s Spencer, it was important,” You insisted, and he squoze his hands so tightly his nails dug into his palm, because it was too late to tell you just how much you’d made him feel in such a tiny gesture, and the electricity from your kisses had to come out somewhere. If not, Spencer worried he might explode. 

His hand sanitizer sat empty in his pocket, the same way it had been for months, and Spencer couldn’t care less.

[shouyuus]

hiii rain how are you doing beautiful💞

what do u think about long-distance relationship!vi

a quick lil thing bc its been a long day u__u; i'm alright bby! still sick but im getting better slowly!!! <3

tiny lil bit 18+, mdni, vi-shaped brainrot as per usual

longdistance!vi who has a separate ringtone just for you, so she'll always know when it's you calling; she never misses a phone date, even if she's a little late sometimes, who nearly fumbles her phone when she tries to answer, so eager, every single time, who stares down at the image of you with the goofiest smile, because god how'd she get so lucky?

longdistance!vi who will phone you in the morning just to brush your teeth together, the both of you still half-asleep, messy hair and all, doesn't say a word, but will make faces at you when she's rinsing her mouth, gargles extra loud just to try and make you laugh so you'll choke on your toothpaste, winks when she catches you staring at her when she steps back to change, doesn't mute at all when she pees right after, laughing when you roll your eyes and hang up, only to call back a second later, her face shoved up against the screen, distorting her features just to say, "it's healthy to pee in the morning!"

longdistance!vi who's never shy with telling you that she misses you and is unrepentantly needy, texts you at all hours of the day, whines that life must hate her because you're so far apart, counts down the hours till she gets to see you again in person (three months, two days, and thirteen hours --)

longdistance!vi who doesn't hold back describing to you all the things she's gonna do to you the second she gets her hands on you, even as she's got a hand shoved down her own panties, the sound of your whines in her ears -- "god, can't wait to fuck you till you're cumming around my fingers -- you're always so wet for me baby --" "miss how you taste, miss the way you pull my hair --" "want you to cum on my mouth over and over, can you do that for me, baby? yeah?" "lemme hear you cum, doll, that's right -- moan nice and loud for me -- yeah, fuck the neighbor, he can complain to me when i get there."

longdistance!vi who definitely makes good on her promises, and then some, but you'll wake up to the smell of bacon and eggs in the morning, to the sound of her humming in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts; who can't help the smile that takes over her face when she turns around to see you standing in the doorway of your bedroom, wearing of one her old band tee's, your hair a bird's nest tangle from the night before.

"morning, princess -- sleep well?"

you patter up to her, press a kiss to her cheek, reach up for the moka pot to make some coffee.

"mm... depends on what well means -- we didn't get to sleep till wayyyy late," you tease, tugging two mugs from their hooks on the wall, bending over the fridge for the milk carton.

"yeah well -- 's not like we had plans today other than chillin' at home and --" she leans over to mouth at your neck, looping an arm around your middle, groaning into your skin even as you giggle and let her suck yet another hickey into your shoulder.

"i thought you wanted to go grocery shopping today? weren't you gonna make me vander's famous meatballs?"

she sighs, hooking her chin over your shoulder.

"fine, fine... but that can wait till the afternoon right?"

"sure it can," you say, laughing as she waddles the pair of you back to the stove to flip the bacon and eggs.

longdistance!vi who's always been terrible at goodbyes, who lingers too long and almost misses her flight, but she'll always be the last one waving, either by the airport drop-off or in the window of her cab, who texts you nearly immediately as you're out of sight, reminds you to drive safe, that she misses you already, and that she's already counting down the days till she can see you again.

[wlwoceaneyes]

Lipstick Service Part 2 // Cassian

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!bau!reader word count: 1390 k summary: It’s been a week since the mug incident, and Emily’s been teasing you ever since. Now, after a tough case, she calls you into her office. tag list: @cinnamongirlblogsworld A/N: Thanks for all the love on Part one <3 you totally made my week. Here's part two.

Part One

You can’t quite shake the feeling that Emily’s been teasing you ever since the mug incident, the way she’d taken a sip from the cup where your lipstick had left its mark, her eyes flickering with something unreadable just before she smiled. Since then, little moments have added up: a glance held a fraction too long, a subtle lick of her lips when she thought you weren’t watching, the slight tension in her hands whenever she gripped her glass a bit too tightly.

Emily now stands in front of the team, arms crossed, back straight. Her berry-colored blouse is slightly wrinkled, her black blazer buttoned up as if to hide that fact. Her silver hair glows dully under the ceiling lights, slightly disheveled, like she’d slept on the jet. But you know better. You’d been sitting across from her, watching the steady tap of her long fingers on her laptop keyboard keeping you wide awake. And maybe it wasn’t just the typing. Maybe it was the fleeting glances she kept stealing after catching you staring a little bit too long.

“Good work“, she says with a grateful nod to everyone.

You snap out of your thoughts with a shake of your head and focus on Emily’s knowing face. A ghost of a smile plays on her lips, but her eyes, dark and unreadable, hold something else entirely. Perhaps a secret, still tucked away behind her steady gaze, waiting to be uncovered.

“Only because we acted quickly were we able to apprehend the suspect and save other women from any harm.” Emily’s fingers tap once against her arm, her posture stiffening slightly before she shifts her gaze. She looks tired. You all do.

The sleepless days, the endless hours spent chasing this guy, it’s written all over her. And on you, too. Your body feels like it might fold in on itself, your eyelids heavy, your brain two steps behind. Emily hides it well, not like Luke, who lets out a deep yawn. Not like Tara, who’s slumped against her desk or Rossi, on his eighth cup of coffee, which honestly has you a little concerned. Too much caffeine can’t be good. JJ had gone home an hour ago, Will and the kids shouldn’t have to wait any longer. Emily’s orders.

“I know it’s not ideal,” she adds, and you groan. “But Bailey wants the reports on his desk by tomorrow morning.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Tara mutters, rubbing her face. “How many hours have we been awake again?”

Luke makes a face and sinks into his chair with a dramatic sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Emily says, her eyes flicking to yours. You don’t even have the strength to push back, sleepiness having a hold on you. “Orders from above. The sooner we finish, the sooner we go home. Let’s get to it.”

Tara straightens her shirt, moves quickly to her desk, unlocking her screen. You watch as Rossi drags himself up the stairs to his office, quietly closing the door behind him. Luke’s already typing, filling his report with details. And you? You’re still standing in the middle of the bullpen like your feet forgot how to move.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Concern flashes over Emily’s face, and for a brief second, her fingers brush your forearm. Warmth blooms beneath your skin, spreads to your cheeks.

“Yeah. Just tired,” you answer, fighting the blush, your gaze dropping to the floor just in case she sees it.

“Can I do anything for you?” she asks, her fingers trailing up from your arm to your shoulder, pressing gently. “Coffee? Something to eat?”

She’s always so careful with you. Always noticing, always offering, like she sees through you in ways no one else ever bothers to. You wish you knew what it meant, or if it meant anything at all.

“Sleep, maybe?” you blurt, before you lose the nerve. A smile tugs at the corner of Emily’s mouth as she steps a little closer. At once, you’re surrounded by her, her perfume rich and intimate: white gardenia and sandalwood. A scent your subconscious has already memorized.

“Who knows what you’d miss… if you went to sleep now,” she murmurs, her voice like velvet, laced with unspoken promises. When her eyes flick to your lips, your knees go weak.

You don’t trust your voice, so you clear your throat and glance around. “The upcoming paperwork, maybe?” you shoot back, raising a brow.

Emily lets out a soft laugh, amused, and turns to go. “Something like that,” she says, casting a look over her shoulder. “Get to work.”

You stumble back to your desk, limbs heavy, and drop into the chair. You stretch before unlocking your screen, eyes burning but blood rushing hot beneath your skin. Emily’s presence has rooted itself deep within you and refuses to let go. You’re exhausted, every part of you aching for sleep, but you don’t stop. Not yet. Not when she’s still in the room. So you focus, willing your hands to move, your brain to keep up, maybe it’s foolish, but some part of you still wants to impress her. Maybe always has.

Across the room, her heels strike the floor in that familiar, steady rhythm, until they don’t. Halfway to the exit, she stops. Her phone buzzes and she sighs quietly, but you catch it. “Bailey wants a short debrief. Of course, right now.” She runs a hand through her long hair, jaw tightening for just a second, irritation visible on her face.

Tara glances over the rim of her monitor, an apologetic expression on her face. “You just need some fresh makeup, Prentiss. You look tired.”

“Thanks, Tara,” Emily replies dryly, shrugging. “But my bag’s already in the car. This’ll have to do.”

Luke laughs quietly at the exchange and earns a pointed glare from your boss. There’s a beat of silence, then Emily turns, eyes locking on you.

“You always have some makeup in your drawer, don’t you, Y/N?” The question sends a shiver down your spine, her tone low and demanding.  She doesn’t wait for an answer, seconds later, she’s already heading toward her office, glancing back when you don’t immediately follow. “You coming?”

Puzzled, you grab your toiletry bag and follow her up the stairs. You don’t miss the knowing glances exchanged between Tara and Luke, or the way they try and fail to hide their smirks. Your heart pounds loudly in your ears, your hands feel clammy, but you take a deep breath and slip through the door.

Once the door clicks shut behind you, Emily leans back against her desk, arms crossed, studying you. “Your lipstick,” she begins, her tongue briefly darting over her lips, “matches my blouse perfectly. Don’t you think?”

Heat floods your face, and you know she sees it. You know she does, but doesn’t comment on it. “Want me to lend it to you? It’s in my bag…” You reach down, rummaging with unsteady hands, but before you can find it, her hand closes gently around your wrist.

“I never said I wanted the one from your bag,” she murmurs, and you freeze.

Confused, you look at her and see a smile, playful and dangerous, dancing on her lips. She steps closer, raises her hand. Her fingers hover over your jaw, trace a slow path downward, then come to rest at your chin, holding it gently but firmly. “May I?” Her voice is soft, her head tilted slightly, eyes drinking you in, blown pupils, parted lips, and the ache of anticipation written all over your face. All you can do is nod, you’re not even breathing.

Emily Prentiss leans in, her eyes never leaving yours and when her lips finally meet yours, it’s slow, purposeful. Not demanding, just certain. And when she finally pulls away, your shade lingers on her lips. Cassian.

“Now I’m ready for Bailey,” she whispers, stepping back to smooth her hair.

You’re still standing there, stunned. The ghost of her touch still crackling on your skin. She throws you a satisfied smile, opens the door, and disappears down the hallway, heels clicking in sharp rhythm. She’s gone before you can speak and somehow, Bailey feels more like an afterthought than the reason she called you in.

Something passed between you, undeniable and deliberate. And now you are sure, this was never just a one-sided crush.

Part 3

[riddlesrizzler]

Teacher Appreciation Week

summary: They’re lucky. I’m luckier characters: ceo! mattheo. teacher! reader warnings: none! word count: 577 a/n- i meant to post this on tuesday but the month of may is always insanely busy for me. but happy teacher appreciation week to my teachers, educators, childcare providers, and any parents that are out there. it is not easy to teacher the future of this world, especially when you are given one week for "appreciation." just know that i see all the hard work you are doing and am extremely grateful for you!

By midweek, her classroom looked like a Pinterest board come to life-construction paper cards lined the bulletin board, glitter clung to every surface like confetti, and coffee mugs with phrases like “Best Teacher Ever” and “Caffeine First, Teach Later” formed a growing collection on her back counter. She loved it-she really did-but by Wednesday morning, she was running on fumes, patience worn thin from untied shoelaces, spilled glue, and one particularly chaotic recess duty.

So when she unlocked her classroom door that morning and stepped inside, she stopped cold.

Her desk was completely cleared off-no clutter, no lesson plans, not even her pencil jar. In its place stood a bouquet that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread: thick-stemmed wildflowers, rich sunflowers, soft tulips, lilacs, delicate baby’s breath-all blooming out of a hand-painted ceramic vase. Pastel swirls covered the clay, along with faint gold accents that shimmered under the fluorescent lights.

Nestled at the base was a thick ivory card, his unmistakably sharp handwriting scrawled across it:

“For the woman who teaches with more heart than anyone I’ve ever met. I don’t know how you manage to give so much of yourself every single day. They’re lucky. I’m luckier. – M.”

Her throat tightened instantly.

The office called during lunch. “Hi, Ms.? There’s… a driver waiting for you out front. Something about an appointment from a Mr. Riddle?”

When she stepped out, confusion twisting in her chest, she found a sleek black car parked in front of the school. The man holding the door open wore a pressed suit and a knowing smile.

“Mr. Riddle arranged for a full spa evening for you, ma’am. Massage, facial, blowout-the works. He also asked me to remind you not to worry about dinner. That’s taken care of, too.”

She could’ve melted into the pavement right then and there.

Hours later, skin glowing, tension melted, she stepped into her apartment with a dazed, blissful smile. But the surprises weren’t over.

Mattheo was waiting on the couch, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie loosened, laptop pushed aside. He looked up the moment she stepped in, eyes softening the way they always did when he saw her.

“Well?” he asked, standing as she shut the door behind her.

She crossed the room in three long strides, dropping her purse to the floor and launching herself into his arms. “You did all of this?”

His hands came to her waist, voice low against her temple. “Of course I did. The kids get to appreciate you with crayons and chaos. I figured you deserved something a little more… peaceful.”

“You’re insane,” she whispered, blinking back tears. “Insanely perfect.”

He grinned and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Only for you, sweetheart. Happy Teacher Appreciation Week.”

[joeyfranchise]

𝟙𝟚 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔-𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕠𝕟𝕖

under the mistletoe

lsu!joe x fem!reader

summary: you and joe can’t stand each other. what happens when your stubbornness meets his head on… underneath the mistletoe.

warnings: minors dni, 18+. cocky joe is always his own warning, kissing, spitting, p in v, semi-public sex.

word count: 4.3k

note: happy first day of fic-mas! what better way to start than with lsu joe <333

“yeah, i’ll be able to make it… i think,” you say into your phones receiver, struggling to slide your uggs on and talk on the phone at the same time. “sorry margot! i’m scrambling this morning!” you tell your roommate, turning her on speaker and laying your phone on the counter.

her cheerful voice fills the kitchen as she responds. “it‘s okay babe! i just heard about this party and we have to go to it before we go home for christmas this year! can you write it on the fridge calendar?”

as you listen to margot talk, you pop a k-cup into your keurig and begin brewing it, sliding your trusty travel mug underneath to catch all of the delicious liquid that you can only hope will get you through this day.

“yep, i’ll put it on there! december 21st?” you ask her, popping the cap off the dry erase marker that your white-board calendar holds.

“yes, that’s right. we’ll just have to watch our alcohol intake that night since we both have an early flight the next morning.” she laughs.

you write the event down and close the marker, placing it back in its holder. you fix up your coffee as margot continues talking, filling you in on the campus drama she’s already seen this morning.

“so anyways girl,” she raved, the smirk on her face evident in her tone, “i saw justin and joe this morning talking to the same girl. like get a grip. they’re probably having another weird competition again.”

you scowl immediately as you hear joe’s name. the quarterback and his best friend chatting up the same girl, how cliché. “god i cannot stand them!” you reply with an eye-roll, annoyance present in your voice.

you weren’t sure why you hated joe so much. maybe it was the incessant flirting he did with you and every other girl you knew. maybe it was how his friend group always made bets on who could “bag bitches” first, or maybe it was just the overly confident attitude that seeped from his pores. every class that you took with him, you dreaded, because you knew he’d be right there on his bullshit the whole time.

over time, he grew to dislike you as well, especially when he realized his advances wouldn’t work on you. you tried your best to avoid and ignore him, but he always made it difficult for you. he’d bump you as you passed by, knocking you and your books over into the floor. he’d stick his foot out in hopes that you’d trip. he’d send unsolicited dick pics just because he knew it’d piss you off. the joke was on him when you’d reply with laughing emojis or even the shrimp emoji.

margot laughed at your anger. “joe’s honestly kinda funny.” she says, only making you scowl even more. “oh am i?” you can hear him ask her, it becomes obvious to you that he’s made his way over to your best friend. “mhmmm.” she draws out, and you gag. you can imagine her twirling her hair around her finger as she flirts back with him. puke.

“hey princess, comin’ to the party?” he asks, clear that he’d taken margot’s phone. hanging up the phone on him is your answer. how could she be talking trash about him flirting one minute, and then flirting back the next. you roll your eyes for nobody but yourself.

you grab all your things and leave your flat, locking the door behind you as you head to class, ready to get the last few days before winter break over with.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

the days seem to fly by, which you’re thankful for, and you pack your bag at the end of your last class before break with a smile on your face. the party is tonight, which you aren’t really excited for, but you’re going for margot and to get at least a little tipsy.

you sling your bag over your shoulder and head out of the class, your stomach growling as you think of what you should have for dinner.

you’re lost in thought as you walk, and soon you’re running straight into a hard body. as you look up to apologize you realize it’s joe, so you close your mouth as quickly as you’ve opened it.

“damn, princess.” he chuckles, grabbing your elbows to steady you. “if you wanted a hug i could just give you one.” he winks.

“no thanks.” you say, shoving him off you. “i’m too afraid i’ll catch chlamydia or something.” his friend ja’marr laughs at your words and joe throws him a scowl.

“that’s not how that works.” joe snarks, raising an eyebrow at you. “but then again, you probably wouldn’t know, you’re probably a virgin.”

you stomp down hard on his toe. “actually no, i fucked your dad.” you retort, blowing him a kiss as you walk past, and farther down the hallway.

you don’t see justin and ja’marr losing their minds at what you said, falling into each other with laughter. you also don’t see how joe stares as you walk away, a mix of anger and pride written all over his face.

when you make it home, you can barely get your keys out before margot is throwing open the door and dragging you in, headed straight for her closet. she has about ten different outfit options laid out, and even some she’s selected for you, including a beautiful strappy red dress.

“help me pickkkkk.” she whines, rifling through all the clothes she’s strewn over her bed. you pick up a navy bodycon dress with shiny silver accents and hold it up to her frame, followed by a long, dark green dress.

“i’ve always liked how these two look on you, marg. pick one of them!” you say, trying to sound as chipper as possible. she holds them both up as she turns to look in the floor length mirror, examining them and trying to make a decision.

“ughhhhh, i don’t knowwww.” she whines again, and you’ve had enough. you snatch the red dress off the bed and race out of her room, headed for your own. you lock the door behind you, and you hear margot laughing as she knocks at the door.

“bitch!” she yells, amused at your antics. you step into your bathroom, hanging the dress on the back of the door as you slip your clothes off and turn the hot shower on. you tie your hair up, not wanting it to get wet, and you step under the hot stream.

the water hits your back pleasantly, the warmth working at the knots of stress you’d been holding in your shoulder blades. you lathered your body wash onto your loofah and began scrubbing, washing away the ick of your day.

you quickly check your body, rinsing before turning the water off and stepping out of the shower to dry off with your favorite fluffy towel. you lotion up, put on some perfume, and apply a quick layer of makeup - concealer, mascara, and lipgloss - before sliding the dress on and letting down your hair. the red fabric hugged your shape in all the right places, and you posed in the mirror as you admired just how good you looked.

you plugged the curling iron in and as you waited for it to heat up you ran out into your room to slide a thong underneath your dress, followed by putting on a pair of sparkly silver heels. you began curling your hair shortly after, and then you applied some hairspray, then a few accentuating pieces of silver jewelry.

once you were satisfied with how you looked, you spritzed on some extra perfume and unplugged the curler, wrapping the cord around it and shoving it back under your bathroom cabinet. you unlocked your door and went out to the kitchen to try and find a quick snack before the party. you settled on toast, popping a piece of bread into the toaster and pushing the button down.

margot stepped out of her room and joined you in the kitchen just as you were spreading peanut butter on your bread, and she spun around so you could critique her look. she wore the navy dress with black heels, and she looked incredible.

you took a bite of toast before speaking, “it looks great babe!”

she gagged as you spoke with your mouth full. “i can’t believe you’re eating that in a dress, my dress no less!” she scowled playfully.

“i like living life on the edge.”

you finished your food and washed your hands quickly, margot was ready to get out the door. you grabbed your phone and locked up, heading to her car so she could drive to the party. you left your phone in her car as you arrived, knowing you’d be staying sober and driving back home tonight. you had originally planned on drinking, but you changed your mind. leaving your phone was against your better judgment, but you did it anyway.

margot left her phone as well but she gave you her keys, knowing you’d be dragging her ass home tonight since you had to fly out in the morning.

as you walked into the party, you laid down the game plan.

“alright, let’s try to stick together, no unnecessary hook-ups. and please don’t drink too much. i’d also like to get home in enough time to sleep a little, and finish packing a few things.” you tell her.

she rolls her eyes and calls you a procrastinator before reluctantly agreeing. you head into the party, the loud music was already bumping through the house and making the floor shake. you knew this was a “christmas” party, but you didn’t expect anything less than rap music to be blaring throughout the frat house.

you stuck by margot’s side as she waded to the kitchen, ready to indulge in a few drinks. you politely declined all that was offered to you, and you kept a close eye on your friend as she began downing shots. after a few sips of liquid courage she finally wanted to dance, so she pulled you along until you were passing through the doorway into a giant room that had been transformed into a dance floor. red lights created a sexy scene, and a disco ball was hung from the ceiling, swirling around and creating a beautiful pattern along the walls.

unfortunately, you didn’t make it past the door. as you were headed one way, joe was headed another, and his friends blocked you both so neither of you could pass.

“the fuck are y’all doing?” joe asked irritatedly, shooting pointed glares toward his friends and to you. “seriously, move and let me through.” you said, just as angered.

justin and ja’marr laughed and smirked at each other, and you noticed margot giggling too as she pointed up to the top of the door-frame. hanging there, of course, was a bit of mistletoe.

joe spoke first. he shoved at justin, “dude, fuckin’ move.” he said.

you tried pushing past ja’marr, but he wouldn’t budge. joe shot you a dirty look. “come on, let’s get it over with then.” he said, annoyance very clear in his tone.

“hell no.” you refuse, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “i’d rather stand here all night than kiss you.”

joe’s face turns to what seems to be a genuinely offended expression, and he mirrors your pose as he challenges you. “oh yeah? alright then.” he says, sticking his bottom lip out and furrowing his brow as he shakes his head. “let’s stand here all night.”

you firmly place your back against the door frame as you make eye contact with him, and he does the same. margot is standing by with his friends, and all three of them are laughing hysterically.

“literally the two most stubborn people i’ve ever seen in my life!” she giggles, leaning on ja’marr’s shoulder.

“you think we need to stand and watch ‘em?” justin asks, looking over at margot. ja’marr answers before she has the chance. “nah, if there’s one thing i know about 9, he ain’t backing down from a challenge.”

“y/n’s the same way. she’d argue with a brick wall if it meant she could prove a point. she won’t budge until he does.”

justin laughs at their answers before ushering them off to the dancefloor, leaving you and joe alone to stare at each other with utter disgust.

you huff as you look at joe, and he smirks back at you, unfazed by your little display of attitude. people pass between you and stop to kiss under the mistletoe, on the lips, cheek, or forehead. the two of you also earn many dirty looks.

standing there is honestly easy - at first. the sheer amount of dislike you have for joe is what’s holding you upright, it has to be. you continue to shoot dirty looks at him, all of which he returns, but after a while your legs start feeling weak. you slouch, eventually falling into a sitting position, and you fix your dress along your thighs so nobody can see under it. joe takes the opportunity to tease you.

“just a quick peck,” he smarms, making a kissy face at you. “that’s allll it’ll take.”

you gag, mostly jokingly, at the thought. “i don’t wan’t your lips anywhere near me, burrow.” he laughs and shakes his head, continuing to stand there with his arms crossed.

you sit there for what feels like hours - it has to be hours, people are leaving the party now… and joe is still across from you, still crouched against the doorway. people have resorted to stepping over you both to get through to the kitchen, pecking each other happily as they cross. some of joe’s friends have tried to come save him, they’ve offered to kiss you so he could come play beer pong or hangout, but you won’t let them. you made this bet with joe, and you have to see it through.

you figured joe would break whenever a girl would come offer herself up to him, but he didn’t. he declined everyone that wasn’t you, and brushed all his friends off. you pretended that didn’t affect you… but the fact that he was doing all this because of some stupid rivalry you had with him turned you on as much as it pissed you off, not that you’d ever admit that to him.

as the crowd starts to dwindle down you get nervous, you really need to get margot and head home, but there’s no way you’re breaking and kissing joe. you look over and see her kissing ja’marr in the corner and you roll your eyes. joe seems kinda proud of his friend and a tiny smirk falls upon his lips.

you scoff.

“what’s your problem?” he asks you, sticking his foot out and kicking yours. “i really need to get going. margot and i have to fly out early and she’s over there sucking face. and i’m over here…”

“not sucking face?” he laughs, tilting his head slightly. “exactly.” you agree.

“look, if it’s bothering you that bad,” he shrugs, “i’ll give you a peck to get it over with. then you and margot can leave.” for a moment you think you can see a crack in that ‘fuckboy’ exterior. you aren’t sure you want to take him up on that offer, but you know neither of your friends will let you move from this spot if you don’t.

you think about it for a brief second, and reluctantly agree to let joe kiss you. you try to talk yourself down. i mean, it could be worse. at least he isn’t ugly.

“okay… fine. but you have to tell everyone you caved.”

“whatever you say, princess.” he lilts, already leaning in toward you. “don’t call me that, i hate it.” you snap, looking him firmly in the eye.

“why?” he teases, inching closer, “it’s what you act like. even now, getting your way so you can go home instead of standing here all night. you’re a spoiled little princess.”

you reach out your hand and place it on his chest, you definitely don’t want to kiss him now. that doesn’t stop him, though. he’s already almost there until finally, his lips are touching yours as his frame towers over yours a bit. you’re both still sitting on the floor, but joe stands up quickly and yanks you up with him.

your immediate reaction to the kiss is to squirm away, but joe doesn’t let you. he wraps his arms around your smaller frame and pulls you into him, caging you against his chest. his lips start moving against yours and after a moment, you start kissing back.

all the alarms in your head are going off, but you can’t force yourself to care now. joe is a really good kisser. your hands find their way to his hair, tugging slightly. joe pulls away for a quick breath.

“went from not wanting my lips near ya to tugging on my shit real quick, huh?”

you slap his arm, earning yourself a laugh. you wait for joe to lean back in, but he never does, and for some reason you feel hurt by it. you look over and see margot still occupied with ja’marr, and then you turn your attention back to joe. he takes in your expression before laughing, you look like a kicked puppy.

“what’s wrong, princess?” he teases again, sliding his hands back around your waist. “didn’t realize you liked me so much?”

“fuck off, joe.” you retort, but you’re laughing as you say it. you stand on your tiptoes to meet his lips again, and he obliges you. you move together in sync, and this time he keeps his hold on you, pulling you even closer.

“always knew you liked me, could fuck you under this mistletoe if i wanted.” he rasps. you moan at the thought. you aren’t sure what’s come over you. you didn’t drink anything… you aren’t usually desperate… maybe it’s something to do with the fact that joe said he didn’t want this just as much as you said you didn’t, but here you are both reveling in each other’s touch. it felt like you couldn’t get close enough to each other. he pushes your back against the doorway, finally moving his hands off your hips and tangling them in your hair.

the tip of his tongue dips into your mouth slightly, and you push yours back against his, sliding it along the roof of his mouth as you slip past his lips. before you know it, joe’s dragging you down the hall and into the first vacant room he can find before he’s throwing you down onto the bed and towering over you. you push up to unzip your dress, realizing you might want this just as much as he does, but he stops you by holding out a hand.

“nah, keep it on. slide it up.”

you do as you’re told, sliding your dress over your legs, wiggling your butt and arching your back so you can get it up over ass and hips. joe drinks in the sight of you, your smooth legs and gorgeous body. you’re insecure about yourself a lot, but he’s looking over you like a man starved as he licks his lips.

he doesn’t bother closing the door as he stalks toward you, pulling a condom from his back pocket with one hand while unbuttoning his pants with the other. you slide your panties down your legs and spread them open for him with confidence.

“fuck,” he gasps, watching as you dip your fingers down between your folds to gather some of your wetness and then you rub them in tight circles on your clit. you gasp as you touch yourself, your eyes following joe as he finally pulls his pants down far enough, fisting his hand along his admittedly large length. you always teased him about it in pictures, but it was big. he knew it, you knew it, half of the state of louisiana knew it. and to your dismay, it was prettier in person.

joe finally makes it to the edge of the bed, still watching you as you work yourself. you figured you’d be cringing at the lack of foreplay, or how his pants aren’t even all the way off, but you can’t bring yourself to care as he continues stroking himself before ripping open the condom and sliding it on. he gets on the edge of the bed by his knees and comes toward you a little, a hand extending out to run a finger through your heat and gather some of the wetness pooling there. he smears it all over his cock, and even though the condom is there, it still drives you crazy to see. “joe, come on before i back out.” you tell him, and you almost don’t recognize your fucked out voice.

the heat of the moment is so enticing to you both. his clothes are still on, pants down his legs halfway, and your dress is hiked up while you dig your high heeled shoes into someone else’s mattress. he finally leans forward and slides into you. you take a sharp breath, feeling more full than you ever have as he pushes in to the hilt.

joe barely gives you any time to adjust before he’s thrusting into you roughly. his lips find yours again and you gasp into his mouth. he pulls away slightly, allowing a drop of spit to fall from his lips into your mouth, which you take happily. you’re both moving sloppily against each other, but as joe brings his hand to your clit to flick his fingertips against it gently, you can’t bring yourself to even care. you’ve had sex with plenty of people and you’ve had orgasms before, but you’ve never experienced the euphoria joe is making you feel.

the warmth starts at the top of your head and it spreads throughout your extremities, into your fingertips and toes. you arch into him, your lips still moving together, and joe’s hips are still pounding into yours, shaking the bed against the wall. you cringe as you hear margot’s keys jingling in your bra. it doesn’t seem to bother joe.

with a few quick slips of his fingers over your clit, you’re cumming against him without warning, and harder than you ever have in your life. the tight squeeze around his cock as you cum is the catalyst for his own orgasm as he spills into the condom.

he pulls out of you with haste, ready to tie off the condom and discard it as fast as possible, hating how slimy it feels. just as soon as he’s moved you dart off the bed, grabbing your panties and slipping them up your legs before attempting to make a run for it.

joe pulls his pants and boxers up, tucking himself in and then runs after you, making it to the door before you. “pretty good, wasn’t it?” he jokes, and you roll your eyes at him before pushing past and walking back down the hall, headed for margot. he chases after you.

“okay, didn’t last as long as i normally would, but i mean, we could do it again, i could prove it. that was… you were…”

you press a finger to his lips as you pass through the very same doorway that got you into this predicament. your eyes study joe’s face as he nervously worries his bottom lip between his teeth. you’ve never seen him like this before, he’s shaken up, and you like that you’re the cause of it. you’d hate to admit it, but you would like to do this again. you point up at the mistletoe and joe takes the hint, pulling you in for another short yet sweet kiss.

“text me.” is all you say before walking over to margot, grabbing her by the arm, and dragging her out the door and to the car. you pull her keys from your bra and unlock it, opening the passenger door and shoving her in before going to the drivers side and starting the ignition.

margot slurs her words as she speaks to you. “wha’ happened? did’ya kiss ‘im?”

“i’ll tell you later, marg.” you say, eager to get home as quickly as possible. you park as quickly as you’ve pulled into the space and you help margot out, grabbing both your phones before you go inside, taking margot right to her room. she insists she’s okay enough to take off her makeup and undress, and she promises she’ll drink water before she falls asleep. you head to your room, shocked to see the clock on your phone reading 1:00am already.

you set yourself an alarm for six, and you undress quickly before sliding on some pajamas and settling in bed.

when you wake the next morning it’s to margot beating on your door. “wake the hell up, we missed our flight!”

you scramble out of bed, unplugging your phone and running out into the hall. margot stands next to her door, laughing at you as you panic.

“don’t just stand there, marg!” you shout, your voice laced with panic. “we’ve gotta get dressed, load our bags, call the airport—“

she cuts you off with a loud laugh. “relax, y/n.” she says between giggles. “we aren’t late. i just wanted to get back at you. how dare you sleep with the quarterback and not tell your best friend?” she shoves your shoulder.

you look down at your phone, realizing it’s only 6:10am. “bitch.” you laugh, running back into your room. you lock the door behind you again, and margot continues her laughter. “i need all the juicy details! literally every last second of it, you have to tell me everything!”

you weren’t sure how she even knew, even though you’re sure ja’marr probably texted her.

you roll your eyes at her even though she can’t see it as you head to your bathroom, ready to take a quick shower. you check your phone one last time before hopping in the water, noticing a text notification from joe, who you’ve affectionately saved as “fuckface.”

you don’t open it just yet, but you crack a smile knowing he’s messaged you already. what have you gotten yourself into?

all photos and dividers used are not mine. all credit to owners.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @definitelynotdomanique @samanthamark5 @superstarshitblog @fa1ry03 @wickedfun9 @xbriexx @venic-bxtch @burrowdarling @angels555 @idbe-theman @yelenasbraid @ladyluvduv @joeburrowshaircurl @joeybisbootiful @livinobx @blairsworld22 @jarring-behavior @joeyburrrow

[archivegyu]

masterlist

if i could give you the moon

part 2: i would give you the moon

choi seungcheol x reader ll 9k words

The moon hung impossibly large in the night sky, casting silver light across the cityscape below. She leaned against the rooftop railing, eyes fixed on its luminous face, finding comfort in its silent presence. The distant hum of traffic and the occasional siren created a strangely peaceful urban lullaby.

She didn’t hear the roof door open, didn’t notice the approaching footsteps until they stopped beside her. Seungcheol’s familiar presence settled next to hers, his gaze following hers upward without a word. For a moment, they simply existed together in the moonlight, two silhouettes against the vastness of the night.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Second Year: October

The crisp autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves as they walked through the upscale shopping district. It was her birthday, and despite her protests, Seungcheol had insisted on taking her out for the day.

"You work too hard" he'd said when he showed up at her apartment that morning. "One day off won't kill you."

Now, as they wandered through boutiques she'd normally never set foot in, she tried to ignore the price tags that made her stomach clench. Seungcheol seemed completely at ease, occasionally picking up items and asking her opinion with genuine interest.

"What do you think of this?" he asked, holding up a soft blue scarf.

She touched it hesitantly, the cashmere impossibly soft under her fingers. "It's beautiful" she admitted, checking the price tag and quickly putting it back. "But I'm just looking."

Seungcheol nodded, seemingly letting it go. But when she turned away to examine a display of notebooks; something practical she might actually be able to affor. She didn't notice him discreetly hand the scarf to a sales associate with a quick whisper.

This pattern continued throughout the day. She'd admire something, a leather-bound planner, a pair of silver earrings, a vintage edition of her favorite book. And each time, she'd talk herself out of buying anything. Each time, Seungcheol would find a moment when she was distracted to quietly ensure the item was set aside.

At a small bookstore, she lingered over a collection of poetry she'd been wanting for months.

"You should get it" Seungcheol encouraged, watching her flip through the pages.

"Maybe another time" she said, returning it to the shelf despite the longing in her eyes. "Textbooks took up all my book budget this semester."

When she moved to the next aisle, Seungcheol quickly purchased the book, the associate slipping it into a bag that disappeared into his jacket before she returned.

By late afternoon, they'd stopped for coffee at a quiet café. She looked happier than he'd seen her in weeks, relaxed in a way she rarely allowed herself to be, even if she hadn't actually bought anything.

"Thank you for today" she said, warming her hands around her mug. "I needed this more than I realized."

"The day's not over yet, Seungcheol replied with a mysteriously satisfied smile. "But you're welcome. Happy birthday."

As the evening approached, they headed back toward her apartment. Seungcheol insisted on driving her home, though her place was easily accessible by public transportation.

"I have something for you" he said as they neared her building, pulling into a parking spot.

"Cheol, you didn't need to—"

"I wanted to" he interrupted gently, reaching into the backseat where, miraculously, a large shopping bag had appeared. "It's nothing extravagant, I promise."

She accepted the bag with suspicious eyes, peering inside. Her jaw dropped as she recognized the items; the cashmere scarf, the planner, the earrings, the poetry book, and several other things she'd admired throughout the day.

"How did you—" she looked up at him, bewildered. "I didn't see you buy any of this."

Seungcheol's smile was both mischievous and tender. "I have my ways. And before you argue about it being too much, it's already done. Consider it compensation for putting up with me all year."

She ran her fingers over the soft scarf, emotions warring inside her. Pride fighting with gratitude, independence with the rare feeling of being cared for so thoughtfully.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted.

“Thank you works" he suggested, his eyes soft in the dimming light. "Or you could just promise to wear that scarf when it gets colder."

Something in his voice made her look up, and for a moment, the air between them seemed charged with unspoken feelings.

"Thank you" she said quietly. "Not just for the gifts, but for seeing me. What I love, what I want but won't let myself have."

Seungcheol reached across the center console, taking her hand in his. "That's easy" he said simply. "Seeing you is the easiest thing in the world for me."

The moment stretched between them, teetering on the edge of something more. But then her phone rang, her mother calling to wish her happy birthday. And the moment passed, leaving behind a lingering warmth and the unshakable feeling that something had shifted between them.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

First Year: September

The lecture hall buzzed with nervous energy as students filtered in for their first class. She clutched her notebook tightly, scanning the room for an empty seat. Years of academic excellence had earned her this scholarship, and she wasn't about to waste it by being anything less than perfect.

"Is this seat taken?"

She looked up to find a tall figure gesturing to the chair beside her. Plump lips, gentle eyes that somehow managed to be both playful and serious, and an easy confidence that spoke of privilege.

"No, go ahead" she said, sliding her bag closer to make room.

"I'm Seungcheol" he offered, extending his hand. "Choi Seungcheol."

She introduced herself, shaking his hand firmly the way her father had taught her. "Nice to meet you."

"First day nerves?" he asked, unpacking his brand-new laptop that probably cost more than her entire semester's expenses.

"Just ready to get started" she answered, not wanting to admit that yes, her stomach was in knots, and she'd barely slept last night.

The professor walked in, and the room quieted. As the syllabus was distributed, she methodically wrote down every due date, every percentage breakdown of grades. Beside her, Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, seemingly relaxed but she noticed how intently he was listening, how his eyes never left the professor.

When they broke into pairs to discuss their academic goals, she hesitated before turning to him.

"So, why Business?" he asked before she could speak.

"Practical choice. Good job prospects. I want to make sure my younger siblings have options I didn't." The words came out more honest than she'd intended. "You?"

"My father runs Choi Enterprises. I'm expected to take over eventually." he said with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

The name registered immediately. Choi Enterprises was one of the largest conglomerates in South Korea. This wasn't just any rich kid; this was heir-to-an-empire rich.

"That must be a lot of pressure" she said carefully.

Seungcheol shrugged. "It's always been the plan. What about you? What's your plan after graduation?"

"Top of my class, land a job at a multinational firm, work my way up," she recited the goals she'd set for herself years ago. "Nothing too complicated."

"Ambitious" he nodded, looking impressed. "I like that."

When class ended, she gathered her things quickly, ready to head to her part-time job at the campus coffee shop.

"Hey," Seungcheol called as she stood. "A bunch of us are grabbing lunch. Want to join?"

She glanced at her watch. "Can't. I have work."

"Work? On the first day?"

"Some of us don't have the luxury of free time," she replied, immediately regretting the sharpness in her tone.

Instead of being offended, Seungcheol just nodded. "Fair enough. Maybe next time?"

She softened slightly. "Maybe."

As she walked away, she couldn't help but think that Choi Seungcheol was nothing like she'd expected a chaebol heir to be.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

First Year: November

Two months into the semester, she found herself spending more time with Seungcheol than she'd ever anticipated. They'd fallen into a rhythm of studying together at the library, his easy-going nature balancing her intensity.

"You're going to wear a hole in that paper if you keep erasing so hard" Seungcheol commented, looking up from his economics textbook.

She sighed, dropping her pencil. "This concept isn't clicking."

"Let me see." He moved his chair closer, leaning in to look at her notes. His shoulder brushed against hers, and she caught the faint scent of his cologne—something expensive, no doubt, but understated.

"Here's where you're getting stuck" he said, pointing to her formula. "You're overthinking it. Look at it this way..."

As he explained, she found herself watching his hands—strong but gentle as they moved across the page, drawing diagrams that somehow made everything clearer. When she finally understood, the smile that broke across his face was triumphant, as if her success was his own.

"See? You've got this" he said, and for a moment, she believed him.

Their study session ran late, and when they finally emerged from the library, the campus was quiet, streetlights casting long shadows across the paths.

"Let me walk you home" he offered.

"I'm fine on my own" she insisted automatically.

"I know you are. But it's late, and it's on my way."

It wasn't on his way at all—his luxury apartment was in the opposite direction from her modest housing—but she was too tired to argue.

As they walked, he asked about her family, and she found herself telling him about her parents' sacrifices, about being the first in her family to attend university, about the expectations weighing on her shoulders.

"That's a lot of responsibility" he said quietly.

"It's what has to be done" she replied, the mantra she'd repeated to herself countless times.

When they reached her building, she turned to thank him.

"Hey, there's this project for Business Strategy coming up" he said suddenly. "Want to partner up?"

She hesitated. Group projects usually meant carrying someone else's weight.

"I promise I'll pull my share" he added, reading her expression. "I'm not just some rich kid coasting through."

Against her better judgment, she agreed. "Alright. But if you slack off, I won't hesitate to tell Professor Kim."

Seungcheol grinned, unfazed by her warning. "Wouldn't expect anything less."

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

First Year: December

Their Business Strategy project earned them the highest grade in the class, a perfect blend of her meticulous research and his innovative thinking. They celebrated at a small café near campus, sharing a plate of pastries.

"We make a good team" Seungcheol said, pushing an extra strawberry tart toward her.

She nodded, allowing herself a moment of satisfaction. "We do."

"So, winter break plans?"

"Working extra shifts" she said, mentally calculating how much she could save in the three weeks off. "You?"

"Family trip to Switzerland. Annual tradition." He said it casually, but she saw the flash of discomfort in his eyes, as if he was suddenly aware of the gulf between their lives.

"Sounds nice" she offered, trying to smooth over the moment.

"It's mostly business for my dad. Meetings disguised as skiing trips." He paused. "You should come over for dinner before I leave, though. My place. I've been practicing this pasta recipe, and I need someone to tell me if it's actually edible."

She raised an eyebrow. "You cook?"

"Don't look so surprised" he laughed. "I'm full of hidden talents."

Two days later, she found herself standing outside his apartment door, clutching a bottle of moderately priced wine that had still cost more than she'd wanted to spend. When he opened the door, wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans with an apron tied around his waist, she was struck by how different he looked outside of their university setting—more relaxed, more himself.

His apartment was exactly what she'd expected: spacious, tastefully decorated, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. What she hadn't expected was the mess in the kitchen; flour dusting the countertops, a pot boiling over on the stove, and what looked like tomato sauce splattered on the wall.

"Don't say it" he warned, rushing to turn down the heat. "I know it looks like a disaster."

She bit back a smile, setting down the wine. "Need help?"

Together, they salvaged dinner. She showed him how to save the sauce from being too acidic, and he admitted that perhaps watching YouTube tutorials wasn't quite the same as actual cooking experience. By the time they sat down to eat, the pasta was slightly overcooked, and the garlic bread was a touch too brown, but it was edible.

"Not bad for a first attempt" she conceded, taking a sip of wine.

"High praise coming from you" he teased. "But thank you for saving me from complete embarrassment."

As the evening wore on, conversation flowed easily. She told him about her younger siblings, how her brother was hoping to follow in her footsteps to university, how her sister was showing talent in art that no one in the family knew how to nurture. He shared stories of growing up under the shadow of his father's success, of the weight of expectation that had been placed on his shoulders since before he could understand what it meant.

"Sometimes I wonder what I'd do if I had a choice" he admitted, his voice softening.

"And what would that be?"

"Music, maybe" he said, gesturing to the piano in the corner of the living room that she hadn't noticed before. "Or psychology. Understanding how people think has always fascinated me."

"You'd be good at that" she said, and meant it. Seungcheol had a way of making people feel seen, of creating space for others to be themselves.

Later, as he walked her to the bus stop despite her protests, snow began to fall lightly around them.

"Thank you for coming tonight" he said, his breath visible in the cold air.

"Thank you for dinner" she replied. "Even if I did most of the cooking."

He laughed, the sound warm against the winter quiet. "Next time, I'll do better."

"Next time" she echoed, and realized she was looking forward to it.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Second Year: March

Spring semester brought new classes, new challenges, and a growing circle of friends that revolved around Seungcheol. She'd been gradually introduced to his other friends; twelve guys who formed a tight-knit group but welcomed her with surprising warmth.

Jeonghan, with his angelic face and devilish sense of humor, had initially been skeptical of her, watching her interactions with Seungcheol with knowing eyes. Joshua, gentle and thoughtful, had been the first to make her feel truly included, asking about her studies with genuine interest. Junhui's quiet kindness, Soonyoung's boundless energy, Wonwoo's sharp wit, Jihoon's musical genius, Seokmin's sunshine personality, Mingyu's clumsy charm, Minghao's artistic sensibility, Seungkwan's dramatic flair, Vernon's laid-back attitude, and Chan's youthful enthusiasm—each of them brought something unique to the group.

Today, they were gathered at Seungcheol's apartment, ostensibly to study but mostly to distract each other.

"I still don't understand why we can't just order food" Mingyu was saying as he chopped vegetables in the kitchen. "I always end up cooking anyway."

"Because you love it and you're good at it" Seungcheol replied, passing him salt.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by textbooks and notes, trying to focus amid the chaos. Jihoon sat nearby, headphones on, completely absorbed in whatever composition he was working on. Wonwoo was immersed in a game, while Jeonghan and Joshua debated something in hushed tones.

"You know, you're allowed to take breaks" Seungcheol said, sitting down beside her with two mugs of tea.

"I have a midterm on Monday" she reminded him, accepting the tea nonetheless.

"So does everyone else. But they're not killing themselves over it."

She bristled slightly. "Not everyone has as much at stake."

Seungcheol opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by Soonyoung launching into an animated story about his dance instructor. The moment passed, but she felt his eyes on her, concerned and thoughtful.

Later, when most of the others had drifted off to various corners of the apartment, Seungcheol nudged her gently.

"Come on, I want to show you something."

Curious despite herself, she followed him to the building's rooftop. The night air was cool, the city lights spread out before them like stars fallen to earth.

"I come here when everything gets too loud" he said, leaning against the railing. "Thought you might need it too."

She stood beside him, exhaling slowly. "It's beautiful."

"You know, you work harder than anyone I know" he said after a moment. "But sometimes I wonder if you remember to actually live while you're working so hard for your future."

"That's a luxury I can't afford" she said simply.

"It's not about luxury" he insisted. "It's about balance. Even my father, who works insane hours, makes time for the things that matter."

She didn't respond, unsure how to explain that balance was a privilege of those who had safety nets.

"My parents want to meet you, by the way" he said, changing the subject.

She turned to him, surprised. "Why?"

"Because I talk about you all the time, and they're curious about the person who keeps beating me in every class" he smiled. "Just dinner. Nothing formal."

"I don't know, Cheol..."

"Please? They're not scary, I promise."

Against her better judgment, she found herself agreeing.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Second Year: April

The Choi family home was intimidating in its understated elegance; a modern mansion in one of Seoul's most exclusive neighborhoods. She'd worn her best dress, simple and black, but still felt underdressed as a housekeeper led her through the marbled entryway.

Seungcheol was waiting for her, looking unusually formal in a button-up shirt. "You came" he said, relief evident in his voice.

"I said I would" she replied, trying to keep her nerves from showing.

Mrs. Choi appeared first, a graceful woman with kind eyes that reminded her of Seungcheol's. "So lovely to finally meet you" she said, taking her hands warmly. "Seungcheol speaks very highly of you."

Mr. Choi was more imposing; tall and distinguished, with an air of authority that commanded attention. But when he smiled, she saw where Seungcheol got his warmth. "The mysterious study partner who keeps our son on his toes" he said, shaking her hand. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."

Dinner was served in a dining room that could have comfortably seated twenty, but they kept to one end of the table, creating a sense of intimacy. She was surprised by how easily conversation flowed, how genuinely interested the Chois seemed in her studies, her background, her aspirations.

"Seungcheol tells us you're at the top of your class" Mr. Choi said, sounding impressed. "On scholarship, no less."

"I've been fortunate to have good opportunities" she said modestly.

"Opportunity means nothing without the talent and drive to seize it" Mrs. Choi countered. "Don't diminish your achievements, dear."

As the evening progressed, she found herself relaxing, even laughing at Mr. Choi's surprisingly dry sense of humor. When Seungcheol excused himself to take a phone call, Mrs. Choi leaned in slightly.

"You know, you're the first of Seungcheol's friends he's ever asked to bring home" she said thoughtfully.

"Oh, we're just classmates" she clarified quickly. "We study well together."

Mrs. Choi's smile was knowing. "Of course. Still, it says something that he values your opinion enough to want you to meet us."

Later, as Seungcheol walked her to the car his parents had insisted on sending her home in, she felt strangely conflicted.

"They like you" he said, looking pleased. "I knew they would."

"They're different from what I expected" she admitted.

"Different good or different bad?"

"Different good. They're... real people." She winced at how that sounded. "I mean—"

"No, I get it" he laughed. "They're not the cold business tycoons people assume. They work hard, but family matters to them. Values matter." He paused. "You matter to them now, too. Once you're with my parents, there's no escaping."

She didn't know why that thought made her heart beat faster.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Second Year: Summer

Summer brought an unexpected opportunity—an internship at a prestigious firm that could set her up perfectly for post-graduation employment. The only problem was the cost of living closer to the city center where the firm was located; her part-time job wouldn't cover the higher rent for those three months.

When she mentioned the dilemma while studying with Seungcheol, he immediately offered a solution.

"Stay at my place" he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I'm leaving for Jeju to help with my father's new resort development, so the apartment will be empty anyway."

"I can't just take your apartment, Cheol."

"Why not? It's sitting there unused, with a perfectly convenient commute to your internship. It makes logical sense."

She hesitated, pride warring with practicality. "I'd pay rent."

"You absolutely will not" he said firmly. "Consider it an investment in your future success, which will make me look good by association."

"Seungcheol—"

"Please? It would actually help me out. Someone should be there to water my plants and make sure the place doesn't get robbed."

In the end, logic won out, though she insisted on at least covering utilities. When Seungcheol gave her the keys before leaving for Jeju, there was something unreadable in his eyes.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing" he said, closing her fingers around the keys. "Just take care of yourself, not just my plants."

Living in Seungcheol's apartment was a strange experience. Everything was comfortable, convenient, designed for ease. She found herself working later at the internship than required, partly out of dedication and partly to avoid becoming too accustomed to the luxury that wasn't hers.

Mingyu and Wonwoo checked in on her occasionally, bringing food and company. Junhui brought books he thought she'd enjoy. Jihoon, surprisingly, became a regular visitor, often working on his music while she prepared reports for her internship, the silence between them comfortable.

One night, as they shared takeout after both working late, Jihoon looked up from his noodles. "You know he's in love with you, right?"

She nearly choked. "Who?"

Jihoon gave her a flat look. "Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you."

"Seungcheol and I are friends" she said firmly. "Good friends."

"Sure" Jihoon shrugged, returning to his food. "But just so you know, he doesn't lend this place to just anyone. I've known him since high school, and you're the first person he's ever given keys to."

She didn't know how to respond to that, so she changed the subject. But later, alone in Seungcheol's guest room, she found herself staring at the ceiling, thinking about his easy smile, his unwavering support, the way he seemed to see her—really see her—in a way no one else did.

It was a dangerous line of thought, one she couldn't afford to entertain.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Third Year: November

The third year brought mounting pressure; harder classes, preparation for thesis proposals, the looming reality of job hunting. She and Seungcheol remained close, though their different schedules meant they saw each other less frequently. When they did, it was usually in group settings with the others or during late-night study sessions in the library.

Tonight was rare; just the two of them, working on separate thesis outlines in his apartment. Rain lashed against the windows, creating a cozy atmosphere despite the stress of their work.

Jihoon, Mingyu, and Jeonghan had been there earlier, working on their own projects, but had left hours ago, leaving them alone with their thoughts and the sound of keyboards clicking.

"I think my brain is officially fried" Seungcheol announced, pushing back from his laptop. "Want some ramyeon?"

She glanced up, blinking as her eyes adjusted to looking at something other than her screen. "Sure."

In the kitchen, she watched as he moved efficiently, preparing their late-night snack. There was a comfortable domesticity to it, one that made her chest tighten with a feeling she refused to name.

"My father asked about you yesterday" he said casually as he waited for the water to boil.

"Oh?"

"He's impressed with your internship performance. Apparently, his friend at the firm couldn't stop singing your praises."

She felt a flush of pride. "I didn't realize they knew each other."

"Seoul's business world is smaller than you think" Seungcheol said, pouring the hot water into their bowls. "Actually, he mentioned they might have a position opening up after graduation. Said you'd be a perfect fit."

She froze, ramyeon halfway to her mouth. "What?"

"It's just an option" he said quickly. "No pressure. But it's a good company, great benefits, room for advancement—"

"Did you ask him to do this?" Her voice was suddenly cold.

Seungcheol looked genuinely surprised. "What? No. He brought it up on his own."

"Really? Your father just happened to mention a job opportunity at his friend's company, for me specifically?"

"Yes" he frowned. "What's the problem?"

She set down her chopsticks. "The problem is I don't need your family pulling strings for me. I can get a job on my own merits."

"No one's saying you can't" he countered. "It's just networking. Everyone does it."

"Everyone who has connections" she shot back. "Some of us have to work for everything we get."

Seungcheol's expression hardened. "And you think I don't work? That everything just falls into my lap because of my last name?"

"That's not what I meant—"

"It's exactly what you meant" he said, voice rising slightly. "You've always thought that, haven't you? Poor Seungcheol, born with a silver spoon, never had to struggle a day in his life."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it? You've built this whole identity around being the scholarship kid who does everything herself. You're so afraid of accepting help that you don't even see when people are just trying to care about you."

The words hit too close to home, igniting a defensive anger. "I don't need anyone to care about me. I'm doing fine on my own."

"Are you?" he challenged. "Because from where I'm standing, you're working yourself to exhaustion, pushing away anyone who tries to get close, all because you're terrified of admitting you might actually need someone."

"What I need" she said, standing abruptly, "is to not be your charity case. I'm not some project for you to fix, Seungcheol. I'm not here to make you feel good about yourself for helping the poor scholarship student."

His face went pale, then flushed with anger. "Is that really what you think of me? After three years?"

The hurt in his eyes made her want to take back her words, but pride kept her silent.

"I have never," he said, voice low and controlled, "seen you as a charity case. I thought we were friends. I thought—" he stopped, running a hand through his hair. "Forget it. If that's what you think of me, maybe we don't know each other at all."

She gathered her things in tense silence, shoving papers into her bag without caring if they crumpled. When she reached the door, she paused, knowing she should apologize but not knowing how.

"Let me call you a car at least" he said stiffly. "It's pouring out there."

"I'll take the bus" she replied, and left before he could argue.

The rain soaked her within seconds, but she barely noticed, her mind replaying their argument on loop. By the time she reached her apartment, she was drenched and shivering, but the cold emptiness inside her had nothing to do with the weather.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Third Year: December

Three weeks passed without a word between them—the longest they'd gone without speaking since they met. She threw herself into her thesis preparation, taking extra shifts at work to avoid her thoughts. Her phone remained silent; even the group chat with the others had gone quiet for her.

One evening, as she was closing up the coffee shop, she looked up to find Jeonghan waiting at the counter.

"We need to talk" he said simply.

They sat at a corner table, her still in her apron, him elegant as always in a camel coat.

"He's miserable" Jeonghan said without preamble. "And from the looks of it, so are you."

She stared at her hands. "It's complicated."

"It's really not" Jeonghan countered. "You both said things you didn't mean, and you're both too stubborn to apologize first."

"He told you what happened?"

"He didn't have to. We've all been watching this dance for three years now." Jeonghan's expression softened. "Look, I get it. Pride is a hard thing to swallow. But is it worth losing him over?"

"I don't want to lose him" she admitted quietly.

"Then do something about it" Jeonghan said, standing. "And for what it's worth, none of us, especially not Seungcheol, have ever seen you as anything less than what you are: brilliant, determined, and incredibly frustrating."

After Jeonghan left, she sat alone in the darkened coffee shop, thinking about Seungcheol. How he'd never once made her feel less than, how he'd always believed in her abilities, how he'd created space for her in his life without question.

The next morning, she found herself standing outside his apartment, heart pounding. When he opened the door, he looked as bad as she felt; dark circles under his eyes, hair uncombed, wearing a hoodie she recognized as one of his comfort clothes.

"Can I come in?" she asked softly.

He stepped aside wordlessly.

Inside, they stood awkwardly in his living room, the silence heavy between them.

"I'm sorry" she finally said. "What I said was unfair and untrue. You've never made me feel like a charity case. That was my own insecurity talking."

Seungcheol's shoulders relaxed slightly. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have pushed about the job thing. I know how important your independence is to you."

"It's not just about independence" she tried to explain. "It's about feeling like I've earned my place. Like I belong in those rooms on my own merit."

"You do belong" he said firmly. "More than most people I know. But accepting help doesn't diminish that." He paused. "I'm not trying to make your path easier because I think you can't handle it. I offer because I care about you, and that's what people do when they care. They try to make each other's lives better."

The simple honesty of his words broke something open inside her. "I'm not very good at letting people care about me" she admitted.

"I've noticed" he said, a ghost of his usual smile appearing. "But I'm pretty persistent."

"That you are" she agreed, feeling the tension between them begin to dissolve.

"So, friends again?" he asked, and there was something vulnerable in his eyes that made her heart ache.

"Friends" she confirmed, trying to ignore the voice inside her that whispered it wasn't enough.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Fourth Year: February

Senior year was flying by too quickly, the future looming large on the horizon. She and Seungcheol had settled back into their friendship, though something had shifted subtly between them; a new awareness, moments of silence that stretched a beat too long, touches that lingered.

Tonight, they were on the rooftop of his building again, bundled against the winter cold, celebrating the completion of their thesis drafts with a bottle of wine.

"To never having to look at my thesis again," Seungcheol toasted, clinking his glass against hers.

"Until next week when we get feedback and have to revise everything" she reminded him, but she was smiling.

"Always the optimist" he teased.

They fell into companionable silence, watching the city lights below them.

"Have you heard back from any of the places you applied?" he asked after a while.

"Not yet" she said, trying to keep the worry from her voice. "You?"

"I start at the company in July" he said. "After graduation and a brief vacation.” 

"That's great, Cheol," she said, genuinely happy for him despite the twist of anxiety in her own stomach about her uncertain future.

"It is" he agreed, though he didn't sound entirely convinced. "It's what I've been working toward."

"But?"

He shrugged. "No 'but.' It's the right move. The responsible choice."

She studied his profile, illuminated by the distant city lights. "Does it make you happy?"

"Happiness isn't always the point" he said quietly. "Sometimes it's about doing what needs to be done."

Coming from anyone else, it might have sounded like a platitude. Coming from Seungcheol, who carried the weight of his family name with such grace, it was a confession.

"I think" she said carefully, "that you'll find a way to make it your own. You always do."

He turned to look at her then, his eyes searching hers for something she wasn't sure she was ready to give. "What about you? What makes you happy?"

The question caught her off guard. She'd spent so long focusing on survival, on achievement, on making something of herself, that happiness had always seemed like a distant luxury.

"I don't know" she answered honestly. "I haven't thought about it much."

"Think about it now" he urged gently.

She closed her eyes, letting herself imagine for once. "Stability," she said finally. "Knowing my family is taken care of. Work that matters. People who understand me." She opened her eyes to find him still watching her. "Freedom to choose my own path."

"That sounds like a good life," he said softly.

"It does," she agreed. "What about you? If you could choose anything?"

"This," he said simply. "Moments like this. Being with people who see me as me, not as the Choi heir. Making my own decisions. Music, maybe. A life that feels authentic."

His honesty made her brave. "And us? Where do we fit in those futures?"

The question hung between them, loaded with unspoken feelings. Seungcheol reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch feather-light.

"I don't know" he admitted. "But I know I want you in mine. However that looks."

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed. Reluctantly, she checked it—an email notification that made her heart stop.

"What is it?" Seungcheol asked, noticing her expression.

"A job offer" she whispered, hardly daring to believe it. "In New York. The international firm I applied to, they want me."

Seungcheol's face went through a rapid series of emotions before settling on a proud smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's amazing. When would you start?"

"August" she said, still processing. "They want an answer within the week."

"You're going to take it, right?" he asked, voice carefully neutral. "It's what you've been working for."

It was everything she'd dreamed of—a prestigious firm, international experience, a salary that would let her help her family. But suddenly, the thought of leaving Seoul—leaving Seungcheol—made the victory taste bittersweet.

"I need to think about it" she said, and they both knew it was a lie. There was no decision to make. This was her path, the one she'd sacrificed for, the one that would validate all her hard work.

"Of course" Seungcheol said, raising his glass again. "To new beginnings."

She echoed the toast, but as they drank in silence, the space between them seemed to grow, filled with things they weren't ready to say.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Fourth Year: May

Graduation day dawned bright and clear, the campus transformed by decorations and proud families. She stood among her classmates in her cap and gown, scanning the crowd for her parents and siblings, who had saved for months to make the trip.

She spotted Seungcheol with his parents near the front, looking handsome and official in his regalia. They hadn't spoken much in the weeks since she accepted the New York position, both busy with final exams and preparations for the future. But they'd maintained their friendship, carefully avoiding any mention of her imminent departure.

When her name was called, she walked across the stage with her head held high, accepting her diploma with the knowledge that she had earned every bit of this moment. As she shook the dean's hand, she heard cheers from the audience; her family, but also a distinct group that could only be Seungcheol and the others, who had become her second family over these four years.

As she moved the tassel on her cap, she caught Seungcheol's eye in the crowd. He smiled at her, proud and pained all at once, and something inside her chest constricted. This was what she had worked for; her ticket to a better life, a chance to make her mark on the world. Why, then, did victory feel so hollow?

After the ceremony, amid the chaos of families taking photos and classmates saying tearful goodbyes, she found herself pulled into an embrace by Mrs. Choi.

"We are so proud of you" the elegant woman said, holding her at arm's length. "Such an accomplishment."

Mr. Choi nodded in agreement, his usually stern face softened with genuine warmth. "Seungcheol tells us you're headed to New York. An excellent opportunity."

"Yes" she confirmed, "I start in August."

"Seoul's loss is New York’s gain," Mrs. Choi said with a meaningful glance toward her son, who was talking with her parents a few feet away. "But I suspect you'll do remarkable things wherever you go."

Before she could respond, Seungcheol approached, bringing her family with him. There were introductions, handshakes, her mother looking slightly overwhelmed but pleased as she chatted with Mrs. Choi. Her younger siblings stared in awe at Seungcheol, who treated them with the same easy respect he showed everyone.

"We're having a small celebration at our home this evening" Mr. Choi announced. "For Seungcheol and his friends. You and your family are welcome to join us."

Her mother started to decline, she knew they had planned to take the evening train back home to save on hotel costs, but Seungcheol interrupted gently.

"Please" he said, addressing her parents directly. "It would mean a lot to me. To all of us. We've made arrangements for your accommodations, and transportation back tomorrow."

She opened her mouth to object, pride rising automatically, but caught herself. This wasn't charity; this was friendship. After four years, she was finally learning the difference.

"We'd be honored" her father said, and the matter was settled.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The Choi residence was transformed for the evening, the formal spaces made warm and inviting with soft lighting and flowers. The celebration was more intimate than she had expected—just the fourteen of them, their families, and a few close friends of the Chois.

She watched as Seungcheol moved through the room, the perfect host, making sure everyone was comfortable. He had a gift for making people feel at ease, regardless of background or status. Her father, initially stiff and uncomfortable in the opulent surroundings, was now laughing at something Joshua's dad had said. Her mother was deep in conversation with Jihoon's parents about music education, while her siblings had been thoroughly adopted by Seokmin and Soonyoung, who were teaching them some ridiculous dance moves in the corner.

"He gets it from his mother" a voice said beside her, and she turned to find Mr. Choi offering her a glass of champagne.

"Sorry?"

"Seungcheol. The way he brings people together" Mr. Choi clarified, nodding toward his son. "His mother has always had that gift. I'm more like you—focused on goals, sometimes at the expense of connections."

She accepted the champagne, surprised by his candor. "I wouldn't have guessed that about you."

Mr. Choi smiled slightly. "I've learned over the years. Thanks in large part to her." He glanced fondly at his wife across the room. "The right people in our lives have a way of making us better versions of ourselves."

Before she could respond to this unexpectedly personal insight, Mingyu appeared, dragging her away to settle a debate with Wonwoo about the best street food in Seoul. The evening continued, warm and joyful, a perfect culmination of their university years.

Later, as the party began to wind down, she found herself on the terrace, taking a moment of quiet amid the celebrations. The night air was cool but pleasant, the garden below illuminated softly by strategically placed lights.

"Hiding?" Seungcheol's voice came from behind her.

"Just catching my breath," she replied as he joined her at the railing. "It's been quite a day."

"One for the books" he agreed, loosening his tie slightly. "Your family seems to be enjoying themselves."

"They are. Thank you for including them."

"They're important to you" he said simply, as if that explained everything. And in a way, it did.

They stood in silence for a moment, the sounds of the party muted behind them, the city spread out before them like a constellation of earthbound stars.

"New York" he said finally, the word heavy with everything they hadn't been saying. "When do you leave?"

"Three weeks" she answered, her voice smaller than she intended. "I need to find an apartment, get settled before orientation."

Seungcheol nodded, his profile stoic in the dim light. "You're going to be amazing there. They're lucky to have you."

"What about you?" she asked, needing to change the subject. "Ready to be the new face of Choi Enterprises?"

A smile flickered across his face. "Not exactly the new face. More like the behind-the-scenes guy implementing changes while my father continues to be the public figure."

"Changes?"

"I've been thinking about what you said months ago, about making it my own." His eyes met hers, serious and determined. "I want to shift some of our priorities. Focus more on sustainable practices, ethical sourcing. Maybe expand our scholarship program."

Pride bloomed in her chest. "That sounds like something you would do."

"It's something you inspired" he corrected gently. "You've always pushed me to be more than just my father's son."

The sincerity in his voice made her throat tighten. Four years of friendship, of challenges and growth, of becoming adults together—it all seemed to crystallize in this moment.

"I'm going to miss you" she admitted, the words barely audible.

Seungcheol turned to her fully then, his eyes searching hers. "I've been trying to figure out how to say this for weeks" he began, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his gaze. "Actually, years, if I'm honest."

Her heart stuttered in her chest, knowing what was coming and terrified of it.

"I'm in love with you" he said simply. "I have been since that first study session when you corrected my accounting formula and told me I needed to pay more attention to details."

A small laugh escaped her, half-surprised, half-pained. "That was four years ago."

"I know" he smiled ruefully. "I'm not telling you this to complicate things or make you feel guilty about New York. I just couldn't let you leave without being honest. I respect your choices, your independence. I always have."

"Cheol—" she started, but he shook his head.

"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know that someone sees you—all of you, the strength and the vulnerability, the ambition and the fear. And loves you for it."

The words she'd been holding back for so long rose to her lips, but before she could speak, the glass door to the terrace slid open, and Seungkwan appeared.

"There you are! We're about to do toasts, and Jeonghan says we can't start without you two."

The moment shattered, Seungcheol stepped back, the confession hanging unresolved between them. They rejoined the party, where champagne flowed and emotional speeches were made. Through it all, his words echoed in her mind, both a gift and a complication.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Three Months Later: August

New York was everything and nothing like she had imagined. The city's energy matched her own drive, the constant movement and ambition a perfect reflection of her internal landscape. Her apartment was small but functional, her job challenging and rewarding. On paper, everything was exactly as she had planned.

But in the quiet moments—late at night when the city's pulse slowed, or early mornings when the light slanted just so through her window—she found herself thinking of Seoul, of thirteen boys who had become family, of one in particular whose confession she had never properly answered.

They kept in touch, sort of. Group texts with the others, occasional video calls where they carefully maintained the friendship they'd always had, neither mentioning the words spoken on the terrace. She saw snippets of his life through social media��Seungcheol at business functions, Seungcheol implementing new company initiatives, Seungcheol with the others on weekend trips. He looked good, successful, exactly where he was meant to be.

Tonight, she found herself on her tiny balcony, staring up at the narrow strip of sky visible between buildings. The moon was bright, a perfect silver disc that seemed to follow her across oceans and continents.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Jihoon, a rare direct message from the most reserved of the group.

*You're both idiots, you know that?*

She blinked at the bluntness of it.

*Hello to you too, Jihoon.*

*He's miserable. You're probably miserable too, knowing you.*

She hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard. *We're both where we need to be.*

*Need and want are different things. Figure it out.*

The conversation ended there, typical Jihoon—direct, uncompromising, and unfortunately insightful.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. The truth was, she was doing well professionally but personally... personally, she felt adrift. She'd achieved her goal, proved herself capable and worthy, secured her family's future. But something was missing, and she was finally honest enough with herself to name it.

Her phone buzzed again, this time with an email notification. A follow-up from her boss about a project she was leading—an expansion into the Asian market, specifically South Korea. They needed someone with local knowledge, language skills, and connections. Someone exactly like her.

She stared at the screen, heart racing with sudden possibility. It wasn't a solution, not yet, but it was a door opening where before there had been only walls.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Six Months Later: February

Seoul in winter was exactly as she remembered it; crisp, vibrant, familiar in a way that settled something inside her. She pulled her coat tighter as she walked through the business district, the cashmere scarf, his gift from years ago, wound around her neck.

The Choi Enterprises building loomed ahead, modern and imposing against the skyline. She had informed her team she would handle this meeting personally, citing her familiarity with Korean business culture. She hadn't mentioned her familiarity with the company's leadership.

At reception, she stated her name and appointment, the Korean flowing easily from her lips after months of practice to maintain her fluency. The receptionist directed her to the elevators, instructing her to go to the 42nd floor, executive offices.

Her heart pounded as the elevator ascended. She hadn't told him she was coming. Hadn't told any of them, afraid she might lose her nerve if she did. The doors opened to a sleek reception area where another assistant greeted her.

"He's expecting you" the woman said with a smile, leading her down a hallway to double doors at the end.

She took a deep breath as the assistant knocked once, then opened the door.

"Your 10 o'clock is here, Mr. Choi."

She stepped into the office; spacious and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the city. Seungcheol stood behind his desk, reviewing documents, his back to the door.

"Thank you, I—" he began as he turned, the words dying on his lips when he saw her.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, taking in the changes six months had wrought. He looked different; more mature, his hair styled differently, wearing a perfectly tailored suit that made him look every inch the business leader he had become. But his eyes, his eyes were the same, warm and deep and suddenly wide with shock.

"Hi" she said softly, when she could find her voice.

"What are you—" he stopped, glancing at his assistant who was watching with undisguised curiosity. "Thank you, Min-ah. That will be all for now."

When the door closed behind her, silence descended, heavy with unasked questions.

"I'm here on business," she explained, stepping further into the room. "My company is looking to expand into the Korean market. I'm leading the project."

Understanding dawned in his eyes. "You're representing them."

She nodded. "They thought my connections might be helpful."

"Your connections" he repeated, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "And you chose Choi Enterprises as your first meeting."

"It seemed logical" she said, maintaining the professional facade, though her racing heart betrayed her. "Your company has a strong digital presence, innovative ideas. We're looking for a partner with vision."

Seungcheol moved around his desk, closing some of the distance between them. "Very logical. How long are you in Seoul?"

"Two weeks, to start. Longer if the partnerships develop well."

"And after that?" he asked, the question loaded with meaning.

She took a deep breath. "That depends on what we find here."

Their eyes held, the pretense of a purely business conversation slipping away.

"I never answered you" she said quietly. "That night on the terrace."

"You didn't need to" he replied. "Your path was clear."

"My path has led me back here" she countered, taking a step toward him. "Maybe that means something."

Seungcheol's expression softened, hope cautiously emerging. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I've accomplished what I set out to do. I've proven myself, secured my future, helped my family. I'm saying that I'm proud of who I've become, and that includes being someone who can finally admit what she wants." She took another step closer. "I'm saying that I love you too. I have for a long time."

The distance between them vanished as Seungcheol closed the gap, one hand coming up to cup her face with a tenderness that made her breath catch.

"You're sure?" he asked, his voice low. "Because I don't want you to ever feel like you've compromised your independence for me."

"Loving you isn't a compromise" she said firmly. "It took me a while to understand that accepting love isn't the same as accepting charity. You were right—it's what people do when they care."

The smile that broke across his face was like sunrise, bright and full of promise. "I've missed you" he whispered, forehead touching hers. "Every day."

"I've missed you too," she admitted, her hands coming to rest on his chest, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her palm. "More than I allowed myself to acknowledge."

When he kissed her, it felt like coming home.

It’s like finding something she hadn't known she was missing until this moment. It was gentle at first, a question and an answer all at once, then deepening with the weight of feelings long held back.

A knock at the door forced them apart, and Seungcheol cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"Sorry to interrupt, sir," his assistant called through the door, "but your father is asking if you'd like to join him for lunch with your visitor to discuss the potential partnership."

Seungcheol looked at her, eyebrows raised in question. She nodded, a smile playing at her lips.

"Tell him we'll be there" he called back, and then more quietly to her, "My parents are going to be insufferable when they see you. My mother has been asking about you for months."

"They knew how you felt?"

"Everyone knew" he laughed. "Apparently, I wasn't subtle."

Her phone buzzed in her pocket—a message from the group chat she shared with all thirteen of them. She pulled it out to find a text from Jeonghan:

Tell him we expect both of you at dinner tonight. No excuses.

She looked up at Seungcheol, confused. "Did you tell them I was here?"

He leaned over to see the message and laughed. "No, but Jeonghan has an uncanny sixth sense. And possibly spies in my building."

Another text came through, this one from Jihoon: Told you so.

"What does that mean?" Seungcheol asked.

She smiled, putting her phone away. "It means he was right. We were both idiots."

Seungcheol took her hand, interlacing their fingers as if they'd been doing it for years. "Not anymore" he said softly. "Now we're just two people who took the long way home."

As they walked out of his office together, she thought about the journey that had brought her here; the scholarship girl determined to make it on her own, the walls she'd built around her heart, the gradual realization that true strength wasn't about standing alone but about choosing who to stand with.

Outside, the winter sun broke through the clouds, casting long shadows across the snow-covered city. In the distance, the Han River flowed steadily, unchanging and ever-changing all at once. Like the moon that had watched over both of them from different corners of the world, bearing silent witness to their separate paths that had, against all odds, converged once more.

She squeezed Seungcheol's hand, feeling him squeeze back without hesitation, and knew with certainty that this—this was what coming home felt like.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Just like the moon, I'll pull you back again

I'm always going to be who I've been  

But I'm not afraid to admit I'm wrong

When I know I'm right where I belong

- moon song, phoebe bridgers

[sundrlands]

‘significance’ j. sunderland x reader

minors dni

cw: light face slapping, light scent kink, sub/top j. sunderland x dom/bottom reader, oral, breath play if you squint, breeding kink, light spit play, dry humping. no depictions of specific characterizations in regards to the reader’s looks. reader has she/her pronouns.

summary: what happens when two deprived people meet by accident? a server and that odd man who’d always come to drink coffee every morning at 6am. from awkward conversation to a dinner that turned into rough, needy indulgence. it was easy, a deprived little thing like him… it was just too significant.

a/n: this is years after the events of sh— no mentioning of the events either. forgive me if this is all over the place… it’s definitely a long one. i kind of went wild while writing this one. there’s more smut than there is plot but nonetheless… i hope you enjoy my very first james sunderland fic.

there he goes again… that odd man… in the same spot he’d always sit in. the farthest table by the window with no one to accompany him besides himself.

james… that was his name. james sunderland.

he was kind enough to tell you this after the tenth time he’d come in. you didn’t have to ask or even tell him your own name… mostly because you didn’t know how to approach that level of conversation. you were just a server— giving the customers phony smiles, a ‘hi, how can i help you today?’ and the fakest kind of enthusiasm when any other would try to offer a joke out of curtesy.

yet something about him… his somber eyes— with light wash of rosy pink coloring the bags underneath them— that looked as if he was deep in thought… as if he were to be troubled by something… or someone from his past… the short stubble that grazed over his chin and upper lip, and his body language that seemed as if he never wanted to be bothered or probably never slept. his gaze always wandered around the diner, out the window or at the soft ripples within the mug he’d hold. sometimes… you found him staring at you, nervously looking away whenever your eyes connected. you never understood why though or what he could be thinking each time he looked at you, so you never asked or gave it much question.

james was just a stranger who came at the same time, almost every single day— six in the morning, as the sky still glowed its grey hues— not a minute early. not a minute late. the bell from the diner’s door ringing loud and brash with the thick of his boots stepping on every creaking, rotten floor board.

each time he’d come, you’d watch him to see if he’d do anything different. maybe he’d add in a sugar packet… two or three… or maybe he’d get a breakfast sandwich like mr.colemen always did— the trucker who you knew had a wife but still flirted with the older cook, ms.miles on tuesdays— or maybe he’d bring in someone he knew to occupy his time… he didn’t. it was the same each time. he’d arrive, ask for seating and sit— not wanting anything else but his coffee— black. no sugar. no cream, just like he liked it he said. he’d watch the steam from his cup vanish until it ran cold then take his sips that felt like a lifetime in between each one.

you couldn’t lie… you were fairly intrigued by him… it wasn’t as if you hadn’t had regulars come in just as much he does, if not more, but something about him seemed different… the expression he always wore… he always seemed so lost in thought yet… so attentive in his surroundings. something in you wanted to know who he was.

each time you gave him a cup of his favorite black coffee, you couldn’t help yourself but try to formulate conversation after he gave out his name… but he was always just so fucking vague… each sentence he spoke was watered down— that trickled slow like shallow water… simplistic and dry, running in a soothing hum.

it was pretty. the way he spoke.

you told him that too. a gentle, ‘you have a nice voice’ after he sung a sweet ‘thank you’ after setting the coffee down in front of his hands. he was awkward about it, like he hadn’t received a compliment like this one or a compliment at all. no words given other than that, having the conversation run flat and you walking away in regret thinking, ‘maybe that was too much’.

it only took one day when you had been off shift to see him sitting at a park bench, the one at the end of the town with his hands in his pockets, back slouched and those same somber eyes staring into the park’s pound to finally sit next to him and not feel the dynamic imbalance hit you like how it did in the diner.

“james!” your breath creating its soft clouds within the cold air as you softly spoke, vanishing as it rose.

“ah!” he hummed, “funny to see you here.” he looked at you… the blonde strands flowing against the wind, his attention fully on you instead of him quickly trying to look away. it was direct, like he stared from within your body… you didn’t expect a person like him to have such good eye contact… it almost made you nervous.

“no coffee today?” you replied, offering a smile.

“afraid not. im just on my lunch break… needed some fresh air.”

“may i ask where you work? hope that’s not improper of me to ask.” you laughed quietly, taking a real good look at him. he was almost like a statue… a rugged one. his lack of fashion sense…and his ability to hold so much expression all the while it being so bland and so cold.

he chuckled, shaking his head as he turned his head back towards the pond, “no… no it’s not ‘improper’. it’s just an office job. pretty boring id say.”

“fitting.” you replied, “not that you’re boring! just… seems like a occupation you’d have is all.”

“i wouldn’t say that you’re wrong even if you did say that.” giving yet another humming chuckle.

you stayed for the time he had to spare. the conversation going just as you thought it would… awkward but he was sweet nonetheless. though it was the way it was, his words flowed with every sentence he spoke, like the gentle stream of the pond in front of you both or the thick clouds that scattered in the grey sky. it took you just a few moments to notice how pretty that man was. he exuded such odd comfort… and warmth that made you want to keep talking to him. listen to anything he said even if it meant nothing or sounded humorously stupid.

“well.” he sighed, grunting as he stood, “id love to keep… talking, but i have to go back.”

you nodded, exchanging your goodbyes as you watched him walk down the park’s path until his body disappeared in the distance.

and so, from then on it had been easier to talk to him. finding any way to get to know more about the odd man who only drank black coffee and stared at you from time to time. it started just at your workplace, quick and steady back and forth talk then at the park, then offering a time to spend together on your off day for breakfast.

that was the first time he had something other than coffee. it was the first time you saw him smile more than once… not a faint one… a real one— seeing how his teeth jumbled at the bottom of his mouth or the harsh smile lines appear by the sides of his lips.

the more you looked, the more you conjured how pathetic of a man james really was. his life seemed so dull… just like the springs occasional showers and faded blue skies… but he was like the sweetness of june— the warmth within this man was little to none but still, he captivated you with his odd charm even if he tried or didn’t. you couldn’t help yourself but to think it was so easy to get him flustered, to have him smile whenever you showed interest in whatever he spoke about… like a lost puppy who finally got attention after being alone for so long.

a slip of a compliment flowed in almost every other sentence, seeing him stutter in his words, choking up a thank you whenever he could. it was amusing… like an addiction. sewing your way into his life was oh so significant. he considered you a ‘friend’ to put it lightly, one who obviously stared at you whenever you weren’t looking: like at the pier. you stood in front of him, hearing the crows sing and the water waves crash against the wood— he’d eye down your frame, seeing the way your clothes hugged your form… dissociating the world’s music around you both with an open mouth and twiddling fingers.

each time, you acted as if you hadn’t noticed and maybe you were just that good for him to not pick up on it whenever you failed to mention or question why he’d stare so goddamn much. it didn’t matter anyway, you liked it just as much as he liked staring at you.

he’d sit stiff, noting how erect his back would be whenever you placed your hand on his shoulder, a soft grip given as you both spoke about whatever. he’d clear his throat whenever you stood a little too close to him, rubbing the tapered part of his hair on the back of his head with a line of ‘uh’ and ‘ums’ in between each word he spoke.

god… this man was just so pathetic.

“why don’t we have dinner?” you smiled as you turned towards him, the bustling chatter amongst the passing people as you both walked down the same park you and him had your first real conversation.

“oh.” he chirped, a quiet laugh intertwined in his speech, “sure. where?”

“my house.” you answered confidently. through the few months of you being his ‘friend’, it only seemed right, so you told him. you wanted him in a place of vulnerability. to rule out every other being that’d pass by or surround you while in public. you just wanted it to be you and him. him and you. “if that’s fine by you. im not too bad of a cook.”

“your house?” his voice fell flat but it was nothing that worried you. the ring of his monotone voice was thick and with how he reacted to your small gestures, you knew he was more than willing to oblige. “you don’t mind me… coming to your house?”

you gave a little nod and he gave a gentle smirk. james didn’t know what could happen once the dinner would happen but he had no reason to disagree… or even want to. he grew accustomed to your company, more than any coworker he had that tried to gather him for night drinks after tough shifts… or even the women who were so abrupt in their interest in him… the thin pencil skirts and revealing blazers. he didn’t care.

a date was given. four days from then after his early ending shift. and so time flew. he hadn’t come to the diner at six in the morning like he did, he wasn’t even at the spots he’d sit during his breaks from work. a part of you had been worried if he tried to avoid you, wondering why you haven’t seen him since your request. he wasn’t good at texting— sending him a ‘hi’ would only result to him replying a ‘hey’ three days later. you almost didn’t buy the groceries you needed to prepare or an outfit that wasn’t too much but definitely would grasp his attention.

luckily you did.

it had been the day and it was five in the afternoon, the sun setting itself and the wind blowing more rapidly, flowing with the night’s usual atmosphere. james stood at your door with the address you gave him not too long after he agreed for the dinner you proposed. he just stared at it’s wood, his heart racing without his mind fully understanding why. he was a grown man but too afraid to see your face until this very moment. so he’d stay in the house longer than he needed to without going to the diner in the mornings. he’d stay in his cubicle on his lunch break, finishing any extra assignments he needed done for his boss.

moments spent with his feet planted on the ground before he gave three knocks at your door. he waited, only for a minute before you opened the door. you were dressed so nicely opposed to his work outfit still on and the light fragrance of the food fumigating in the air, hitting his nose.

“you’re here.” you spoke, relieved that he hadn’t stood you up. “come in.”

and so he did. small talk was given, complimenting your abode and trinkets you had scattered all about, admiring the personality your home gave opposed to his apartment that was just there… only the essentials, almost soulless. you thanked him of course, going on about little things as he listened before you finished all that needed to be done for dinner— it was pasta. simple and easy to not fuck up.

two plates placed with wine in crystal glasses and forks being spun. you connected over the flavor of the sauce and the warmth of the garlic bread that complimented the pasta. everything went smoothly, more than you thought it would’ve. easy conversation with the add in of knowing more about who james was… though he was his usual vague self.

you couldn’t pinpoint why he had been or what was truly on his mind. in certain instances, he’d drift off, his eyes wavering with a slow chew before ending his sentence with something mundane. your curiosity kept prodding with each question you gave— he didn’t show feeling of intrusion but he wrapped around certain topics leaving you needing more to be answered.

it felt like twenty one questions… moreso… him answering yours than you were with his but his composure and hospitality hadn’t changed from his kind and awkward demeanor he’d always give. it took awhile before you realized you had been digging in his chest like a crow on a rotting corpse before you covered your mouth with a soft, inaudible gasp.

“ive been blabbering…” you say, shyly laughing as you continued the last of what was left on your plate.

“no.” he responded, his voice trickling like soothing raindrops against a windowsill, “you’re just curious.”

“that i am.” your eyebrows raising as you sipped the bitter red liquid of your wine, “but you’ve had enough.”

he shook his head, wiping his mouth with a nearby napkin as he gulped, “i enjoy the conversation. i just have a lot in my past im not too fond of is all.” you noticed his eyes again… that troublesome look… the blank stare. whatever happened seemed to had never left him. james was like a puzzle piece… all scattered… some pieces missing so the full picture could never be seen or even admired.

“don’t we all…” pursing your lips as you set your glass down, “…but that’s the beauty of life, yes? it’s shitty… things come and go. regret… wrapped in solace. but that only means you can make happier memories.” trying to be positive to remove anything he had stored in thought.

you saw his shoulders relax from its usual tension, his eyes finding their way towards yours with a thick silence being transferred between you two. “yeah.” he spoke, breaking the silence momentarily before it fell back. the white noise… the gentle buzz cradled your eardrums, sitting like a stone in both of your seats.

the contact between your eyes spoke a million words… ones that haven’t been spoken out loud— it was of interest, undeniable lust. from his constant gaze from when you once were strangers… his usual order of coffee, to the moments you spent together in numerous places to now. those pretty light eyes shook as they bounced from each part of what your body showed at the table. they were quick… hungry… without any hesitancy. he dared not to look away, enjoying the visual of your being in a place with no one around, just you both.

as for you… the feeling of his eyes felt like fire caressing your skin… as if his wherever his pupils directed themselves, you could feel. it felt like fingertips gliding underneath the fabric of your clothes… just as when he ate… the way his lips latched onto the silver of his fork— the unintentional sensual gesture as he slid it from his mouth and chewed. the coat of spit that was left across it, and the delicate way he held onto the spine of the wine glass. you wanted to replace the flavor of your homemade sauce with the flower of your labia… to feel the latch of his lips against your breast or on the sides of your neck. the way he ate gave you an intense feeling of need… greed… swelling indulgence. not to mention his goddamn voice… the voice you were already so found over— the subtle cracks and dips between certain vowels… how deep it was… how gentle it felt amongst the silence.

“james..?” you questioned, tilting your head slightly, almost in a trance by the tone of your voice.

he gulped roughly, already sensing whatever you were going to say by the look you gave. “yes?”

“may i kiss you?” the words flowing softly within a sigh, holding your breath as you waited for his answer.

he just stared at you, eyes blinking like a cat in comfort as he continued to stare. moments past… which felt like hours before he nodded.

you stood from your seat, his attentiveness not failing to follow you in whichever way you went, slowly walking towards him with your hand sliding against the rough stubble on his face. he exhaled through his nose, his eyes shutting closed, his body melting into your touch as if he longed for such embrace. he hummed… the vibration flickering against the tips of your fingers before you felt the warm air of his exhale against your lips. slowly you leaned, shaky breaths with a soft press of the lips.

his lips were so soft yet stiff, a long press, occupying the other side of his face with yet another hand, pulling his face closer to yours as you deepened it. james let you lead, his rough calloused hand grazing against your wrist with a gentle grip, simultaneously pulling you closer to his embrace.

at the touch of his lips, you felt yourself get jolted with pleasure in between your legs, the softness rushing to a hungered one— his lips opening, allowing your tongue to push through and taste the sweetness of his of spit. his mouth was warm and the muscle of his tongue slid into yours as spit started to slide down his chin… quickening breaths and an even louder hum than he ever gave.

with the sharp sound of the chair scraping against the floorboards, he scooted back, you unconsciously sitting onto his lap just to feel the growing bulge against his work pants. you sat right on it, feeling it press against your clothed cunt with a groan that wrapped around your tongue and down your throat. he felt big, and the throb of it excited you, having your hips think on its own with a heavy yet slow rut.

the hands that held onto your wrist fell at your hips, the tightness of his fingers digging into you as if he’d never want you to leave from his touch. your bodies molded into one, your breasts pressing against his heaving chest with your hands now gripping the back of his neck.

at release, your forehead pressed against his… his deep gasps sounding pathetic and irregular, lips ajar, trying to savor the feeling of your lips that were once on his. the creek of the chair upon your slow grinds were loud and obnoxious but that didn’t stop you from adding on more friction, loving the feeling of his hardening cock against you.

“let me… do what i want to you… let me make you feel good.” you whispered against his lips, feeling your words being sucked from his quickening gasps.

“please.” he whined… a sound you’d never heard before from a man, let alone one of business. his willingness in the subtle acceptance of him submitting to you had your mind fill with haze. the glisten of his eyes pleaded for something… anything… like he had never been touched before. “please…”

his face leaned in the crook of your neck, his nose nudging against the warmth of your skin, sharp inhales, devouring the perfume that coated it. light peppering kisses lining up and down, all along the side of your jaw. a smile crept up on your lips… you knew just from the sight of him that he was just a pathetic little thing. and with the way he acted just from a kiss… how hard he got with you sitting on his lap, you knew that whatever you did he’d grant you a reaction that would be better than any man has ever gave you or will give you.

you gripped the back of his head, a drunken stare as his lips still purse from the abrupt release of his kiss. “wait.” you breathed, pressing your finger in the center of his lips. he was so tantalizing… his eyes drooped with anticipation, knowing that since he has you now… his self control was little to none.

at the side of you finger, he kissed it, holding onto your wrist as you placed another finger against his lips. you watched and he watched you— his mouth slowly opening and guiding his fingers against his tongue. with hallowed cheeks he began to suck, bobbing his cute head down to the knuckle. curling your fingers, you felt his tongue slither in between, spit messily sliding down your palm and arm.

“good boy..” you praised, your voice in sync with the sounds of his sucks— a deeper whine trembling against your fingers at the sudden pet name.

you grinned, cocking an eyebrow at his reaction. he liked that? you thought. seems fitting.

sliding your fingers from his mouth, you gripped his chin, a gentle press given, “watch me.” you whisper and with a pull at your top, he watched. his eyes directing themselves at your breasts with an even quicker and excited exhale exuding from his whining lips. eyebrows furrowing at the need to touch, his hands hesitantly removing from your hips and curling, waiting for the okay to be able to grope them upon your request. unclasping your bra, they drooped prettily in his face, letting whatever you took off hit the floor beside the chair.

“come on pretty boy… touch them.” you slurred, your voice seductive, teasing him, watching how his eyes never left, just opening at the sight of your bare breasts. “i know you want to.”

he sighed, one that was pent up and riddled with eagerness. “oh my god…” his voice shook. james was driven by the lustrous nature of your body. captivating by the sounds that fell from your lips and the commands you spewed— each word directed itself at his cock, feeling it twitch and tighten at his pants. the way you were entranced by his eyes as he was with yours, looking up at them with admiration, need and desire that festered throughout his body, making him burn at the touch.

doe and gentle with a sweet song flowing in the disguise of a moan he sung. the single free strands laying against his skin, complimenting with the reds that blossomed at his cheeks.

‘i want her… i need her… all of her… i want it. i want it. i want it. i want it.’ he chanted in his brain— feeling as if he was going to pass out at how hard he was breathing— his hot mouth curling at the warm bud of your breast, tongue flicking at it’s hardened tip, pulling back with the gentle graze of his teeth until a pop was heard, pressing a series of kisses around your breasts.

you were drunk off the man. that poor pathetic odd man. his body calling for more… groping your breasts with vigor, feeling the shortness of his nails digging and molding them to his liking… and the little broken noises he made, so soft and sweet, higher than his usual tone. a fleeting glint of mischief glistened in your eyes, letting out a chuckle.

“that’s it…” your voice trailed, lifting your hips, starting to bounce on his lap, granting a broken moan to feather against your nipple.

“god… fucking dammit..” he exhaled, gritting his teeth as his body sunk into the chair, his feet planted harsher on the floorboards, bucking his hips upward, feeling the weight of you created more friction, his swelling cock pulsating. “don’t stop… please.” he whined, eyes squinted as drool fell from the side of his trembling lips.

your hands running in his warm blonde strands, “that’s a good boy.” you tightened your gasp, pulling it with a yank. he blinked slowly with a coo, “you like it when i bounce on it?” you teased.

he nods. his poor hips already tiring out, them stuttering at every upwards thrust. “yes ma’am… fuck it feels… it feels so good.”

planting your hands at his chest, you felt the fast pace of his heart, running your palms up his body until your fingers wrapped around his slender neck— each digit falling into his skin, hearing his strain. “poor baby… you wanna feel more don’t you?” you grunted, his head tilted back with your face hovering his. with a slight cock of your hand, it collided with the softness of his cheek, a loud yelping moan bouncing along the dining room walls.

“fu… fuck…” he stuttered, his lips almost at pout.

no woman had ever treated him this way, so rough and teasing and you hadn’t even fucked him yet. his nerves was heightened as his cheek burned with the faint remnants of your palm. never did he think he’d enjoy something like this, in fact… he was left speechless. the sight of his eyes looking more pleasing than they already looked. they never looked away from you, wanting to get every expression you gave… watching your lips as they continued to taunt him, needing to see the way your breasts bounced as you continued to rut against his lap above his pants.

“oh?” you chirped, noticing the deepening submission in his glare. “you liked that didn’t you?” your hips now stopping in its place.

weakly, he laughed, “i do.” his voice still so sultry and deep.

leaning closer to his face, your lips feathered his, exchanging breaths with shared smiles, “go on your knees and take it out for me.” your other hand sliding down slow until it cupped his bulge. removing yourself from his lap, now standing.

he lifted himself off the chair, taking off his bottoms and boxers. there he sat, like an obedient little thing, on his knees— his thick dick laying and jerking at every throb as it laid so delicately against his thigh— staring up at you adoringly with gleaming eyes, as if he had been admiring a star.

it wasn’t as if you necessarily thought about what he looked like underneath his boxers, but the sight of it made your eyes sparkle— it was so thick and long, it made your mouth water.

“james…” shocked and even more turned on at how pretty his dick was. the light graze of his brown pubes looking well kept. “fuck it’s so pretty.” running your finger down its side, hearing the most pathetic moan fall from his lips— his fists balling at the sudden touch. “needy little thing you are.”

it was cute. from the little slap you gave him and the way he wanted you to have your way, it only fed into the desire to treat this boy with some excitement. that dull life he had was now changed as thoughts puddled at your brain seeing this man look so weak as you stood to look at him.

“such a pathetic… pretty man.” you cooed, tilting your head, “and look at your dick.” his eyes dropping to watch it leak and pool at the flesh of his thigh. “it’s excited for me isn’t it?”

his fingers wrapping around his shaft, needing some type of friction… it was starting to get painful with how long it hadn’t been touched bare. whenever he was turned on in the comfort of his home, he’d jerk himself off until he fell asleep. over and over again until his wrist burned and his throat dried. he had no self control and with you around, he could cum just from your voice.

“take your hand off.”

“god i just…” he whimpered.

“mmh mmh.” your head shook, as you bent down, “hands off. i tell you when you can and can’t, do you understand?” placing your finger underneath his chin to raise it, seeing gentle plea in his eyes.

“yes ma’am.”

he felt belittled, unable to control his own person. a quick shiver fell down his spine, leaning closer into your embrace… just the soft touch of your finger gave him a bolt of pleasure. knowing if he touched himself, you’d slap him in retaliation. oh how he so desperately wanted that.

you unzipped your pants, stepping out from them, alongside your panties, already dripping against the inner of your thigh. placing a palm at the top of his head, your fingers gripped tight, angling yourself in front of his face.

he gulped roughly, staring at the swelling of your clit. “lick it.” without hesitation, his face fell in between your legs, his curved nose nudging against your clit as he inhaled, lapping his tongue in between the folds of your pussy.

the scent of it drove him wild— eyes rolling back as he continued to inhale, loud enough for you to hear. he smothered himself, the muscle of his tongue thickening with his lips latching it just to get the taste of you fully.

you were taken aback at how skilled his tongue was, how his nose stimulated your clit so lovingly with each bob of his head. obnoxious sucks radiated in the air with his fingers clasping against your thighs, hard enough to hurt.

moans trickled from your throat, gasping on the thick of the air, guiding him with the hand that gripped his hair. his tongue plunged deeply into your pussy, feeling his mold his muscle inside of your fleshy walls, thrusting his head to fuck your opening.

you felt yourself already needing to cum and that has never happened before. at least not this quick. the softness of his lips sucked so roughly and his tongue flicked so fast, your knees buckled inward, unable to keep up with the pace of his mouth.

“james…” your moans heightening in volume, your chest deepening after every breath you took, “your fucking mouth…”

his hair, all tattered and messy, with his eyes reddened from it almost tearing up because of the lack of air he was given, not stopping for a second as he drank in your arousal and your moans. a tingling sensation bounced off his body, circling through each part of his limbs.

the sounds of his sucks almost overpowering your moans itself, as he felt your meaty pussy flutter in and out his mouth loving how full you made his mouth.

“i can’t stop,” he gasped against your cunt, “it’s just so good… i love it, i fucking love it. fuck… fuck…” nothing in this man’s brain could made him stop. it was like he pushed himself in between your legs like he wanted to be apart of you— keeping his strength in his neck to keep his same motion.

removing himself to breathe, he gathered spit, directing at your clit and watching it drip before catching it in his mouth, rolling his tongue along the hood of your clit before latching on with hallowing cheeks. sucking in air, your body curled forward, feeling two of his fingers slide in the opening of your pussy. they curved as they started with long strides.

that ‘odd’ man surely knew how to please a cunt. fingers picking up its pace with the loud wet sounds interweaving the moans you both sung. “yes… yes… james…” you panted, his wrist steadying, feeling you leak against and down his knuckles. your walls clamping on his fingers like a heartbeat.

“im gonna..” you announced, your body trembling more than you could even control, your legs giving out with him quickly holding you up as much as he could— his face deepening in your cunt, grunting as he felt you cum against his tongue.

“mmmhm” he hummed over and over again, feeling you shudder against his face.

falling to your knees, your face was angled with his— his mouth wet all from his nose down to his chin. the sight of you, trying to compose yourself from the orgasm you had made him feel dizzy. “feel good?” he whispered, trailing your face from where it hung low, catching your lips. you could taste yourself on his lips, running your tongue at the flesh of his bottom, sucking it in your mouth with small nips before pulling back.

forming spit in your mouth, you held onto his cock, an immediate grunt rupturing from his throat, letting the spit falling down at his tip. brushing your thumb over it, lathering your spit down to his shaft.

“tighter… please…” he mumbled, foreheads now pressing as he watched your hand wrap around his throbbing and slightly veiny shaft, rolling your wrist in circular and jagged movements. tighter you held, hearing the sound of his throaty moans.

“like this?” you breath, quickening your pace. he deserved it.

lifting the bottom of his shirt, he placed the cloth in his mouth, seeing the light spread of hair that tracked up his navel and a hollowing abdomen at every whine he let out. “yes..” he gritted through his teeth.

his precum swaying around from the vigorous speed that continued to grow. he held his breath, brows knitted, body tense at the rhythmic pattern, veins channeling on your forearm with your fingers glazing against the underside of his tip. “look at me.” you whispered, his eyes slowly traveled up your body until they locked with yours.

you spoke of lust in both your gazes, hearing the wetness of his spit coated cock at every pump, hunger radiating in you both like you desperately needed this— shameless and passionate intimacy.

your body yearned to feel him inside and the way he stared at you— the burning sensation it brought you— made it difficult for you. you wanted to feel him stretch your cunt. pushing him back by the press of your palm against your shoulder, he lay. hovering over him, wrapping your leg over his waist before angling yourself over him.

slowly you slid down on him, never feeling something as big as his. even just from the tip, you felt yourself gasp heavily as you kept lowering yourself down onto him. “fuck you’re so… big…”

james continued his whines, eyes closing tight, his body shuttered… you were so warm, your fleshy walls holding him so comfortably. bodies slowly enveloping on another as he tried to talk to your body with his hands— sliding against your thighs, up your waist and momentarily on your breasts.

“you….” he breathed, it hitching as he mindlessly held his breath, with you pushing more of him into you— textured and wet, with a heartbeat that cradled the shaft of his cock. “your pussy is sucking me in…” he groaned, his ass tensing.

all of you. the sight of it all, each movement you made. fuck, didn’t you drive him insane. at this moment, he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer.

your pussy gripped his cock, deeper it went, as if your grip was unable to let him go. each moan you let out, your pussy clammed and mimicked each word as it pulsated against him.

he couldn’t stay still, whimpering as you started to lightly bounce against him— hands planted on his chest with a slight roll of your hips. you couldn’t believe how good he felt inside of you, how full he made you. with you already cumming, it was hard to keep yourself steady, feeling yourself break down each time you lowered yourself.

pressing his hand on your back, he turned you both, now with you on your back laid against the floor, “let me pleasure you… please.” he begged, both hands placed on the sides of your head.

“fuck me like the good boy you are…”

and with that, it was as if a switch had been turned on in his brain. using one hand to grasp your thigh, “like this?” he breathed, his words as slow as his thrusts, his drowsy-like eyes running up against your face. gritting his teeth, sucking on the cool yet hot air, eyebrows knitting together. he placed his forehead against yours, your hand now sliding up to his neck— the pads of your fingers and thumb pressing down the sides of it, slowly tightening your grip. with struggling breaths, his hips continuing his rhythmic thrust yet trying to find the spot, the spot that will lead you into ecstasy.

the hand that held your thigh pressed it down further, his knees fixing itself at a better position, now his groin aiming downwards. his thrust now falling into slow, hungry pounds, his balls hitting just above your asshole. “does it feel good here…?” leaning down as he pressed wet kisses at the edge of your lips.

all you could give were responding moans, your body overstimulated by every movement he made.

each inward thrust, you could hear skin slapping against one another, your breasts mashing into each other. lips trailing down to your cheek, then to your ear, his tongue running at the side of your ear then switching to the next, groaning a series of ‘fucks’ and your name as the thrust started to increase in intensity. they were once slow, now holding more power, grunting at each inward hit. “god. your… pussy… feels… so…. soo fucking… so goood…” each word ending in a hitch.

his voice now holding a deeper, grosser tone, more animalistic as he grew pussy drunk at how you wrapped around him.

he enveloped your lips, inhaling and capturing your tongue in his mouth, sucking on its pink muscle, bobbing his head and swallowing any ounce of spit that rolled down to the back of his throat. your tongue slipped from his mouth, pressing a long kiss against his lips once more.

your mind transversed across what could possible be the gates of fucking heaven at this point. each twist and turn of his hips hitting spots your fingers could possible never do, your damp walls clamping around his girthy cock—greedily needing to paint your insides with his cum, over and over again if he could.

"it feels good, it's so good...." you trailed off, lips pressing together as you muffled a few moans of satisfaction that sounded nearly like his name—the tip of his relentless cock hitting sweet, sweet spots with each charging pound. your hands removing themselves, now dragging and scratching into his back, tugging the flesh leaving continuous marks onto his skin— causing him to wince in blissful pain.

the reverberating sounds of your name rolling off his tongue along with the desperate whines and groans of pleasure only elevated your lust "you're obsessed with my pussy," you whined, head thrown back at the intense plunges against your favored spot.

your promiscuous ways dragging him down in the mud, wanting to rut and fuck you like an untrained animal. that alluring voice of yours, cracking into a moan after you tried so desperately to tease him.

your concaving walls collapsing at his cock, walls with a flowery texture that ran against the pulsating veins of his dick. your wails rushing to his dick alongside your suction— with each inhale making its grasp tighter than before. your folds clasping at the sides of his shaft at every pull.

he place a thumb so kindly pressed at your slippery clit. circling it slow, with rougher presses at each thrust, it’s hood pushing back, feeling your wet, exposed bud nudge at the skin of his thumb. each run around, he could hear it, how your slick found it’s way all the way to your clit, making it harder for his thumb to be held in place.

his body loosened, with his hips now controlled, it’s speed rising with a longer pull and harder pound, body muggy with a thin layer of sweat, with your face buried in the inner corner of his neck.

“i don’t ever want to stop fucking you… your pussy is too good.” his voice ridged and strained.

rhythmical slaps of wet skin colliding as his balls felt a sharp sensation each time it bounced against the sweetness of your hole. your pussy’s heartbeat causing his eyes to roll, holding his breath and letting it out shakily.

“fuck me just like that james… just like that.” your eyes widening with your legs wrapping around his waist. “im close!”

“i don’t want to stop fucking you… i wish i could fuck you nonstop… i want to keep going…” his chest madly rattling against his ribcage.

shivers cascading through your arms as they gripped his hair firmly once again. your beings were joined in such an impassioned, fervid act of lustful ignited bursting flames out of your bodies. “can i..." he breathed out, voice hoarse, “can i breed you… please… please..”

the walls echoed sounds of your repeated pleasure lamentations followed by his needy words and melting into the increasing melody of skin against skin, lead you over the hill, "cum inside! do it baby…" you uttered directly into his eyes, the familiar knot forming at the pit of your abdomen, convusling cunt tightening around his sliding shaft with each thrust.

he couldn’t stop himself, feeling you cum on his cock made him bury himself further inside, hot spurts of his own cum filling you with rolling eyes and harsh gasps. glazed spit lips, bodies trembling from their high, and strained moans.

his arms snake around your body, cum oozing down his balls and thigh. “fuck….” his body not even finished with his high, slow thrust to chase after the leftover high you both breathed out.

“god james… who wouldn’t known you fucked so well…”

laid out on the floor, you both tried to catch your breaths. the contrast between every moment of you knowing one another to now, fucking each other like your life depended on it, you couldn’t help but laugh.

how significant is it to have a simple man— attractive at that— with his usual order of black coffee in your house, fucking you without a care in the world.

you knew… this wouldn’t be the last time.

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

☽ ◦ ◦ ◦ ✩ Cute Moments With Them (HSR) ✩ ◦ ◦ ◦ ☾

✩ March wants the very best photo of the two of you to be her lockscreen. She takes it very seriously. She mulls over what's in her camera roll in contemplation to consider what could be. You ask her to show you what photos were in the running. When she puts her phone to you, showing you some of the cuter photos you've both taken together, you take the opportunity to dart off in the other direction with her phone. She chases after you, and you take a picture of you running with her all blurry behind you. You make it her lockscreen before handing the phone back. You're laughing the whole time, while she pouts at you for taking her phone. "I'm keeping this as my lockscreen to remind you of how mean you are!"

✩ Natasha looks very stern when she spots the cut running down your leg. To the point where you're already apologising before she even says a word. She sighs with the shake of her head. "I shouldn't be surprised these days, go on sit." She works in swift movements of cleaning the blood of the cut and wrapping the wound in bandages. "There all done, I'd tell you to be careful but I'm honestly starting to wonder if you get hurt just to come see me." You laugh sheepishly at her comment, and while she should give you another stern look she merely shakes her head again but this time with a smile.

✩ "Sweetheart, you're a bit heavy handed with your pour." Gallagher doesn't let anyone behind his bar to pour their own drinks. But you're the exception, as much as Siobhan teases him about it. Sometimes he hears her laugh from around the other side, when you give him your best doe eyes and sweetest voice to let you behind the bar. He doesn't mind, you don't do it often, and most of the time you're doing it wanting to make him a drink. But you seem to be a bit too free with your measurements, sometimes one drink has even him feeling a bit buzzed. He still drinks it everytime as long as you promise to let him lean on you all the way home.

✩ Topaz has been looking all over the place for you and Numby. She wasn't overly concerned, as she thinks that if both of you are missing it's clear that you've wandered off somewhere together. She just wasn't expecting you both to come back with a bag full of treasure and Numby draped in random shiny gems you'd both found along the way. She bursts out laughing, a noise that causes Numby to jump in delight. "Hold still I need to get a photo of this!" The photo she takes on her phone is one that always makes her grin when she sees it.

✩ "I don't think pottery is your talent." Aventurine had considered lying about the disfigured mug you had made, but you seemed very aware of how ugly it was when you showed it to him. But miracalously it still ends up serving it's purpose, as you find out several mornings later seeing him drink coffee out of it. As you stare at him puzzled that he's even drinking from the mug that he almost burst out laughing at how strange it looked. "It has it's endearing qualities. I won't have it openly out on display, ever. But it's still useable." By endearing qualities, he means the thought of you attempting to make the mug only for it to turn out like this but you don't need to know that.

✩ Jing Yuan encourages you to come visit him on slower days. Not because he's looking for a chance to slip away, well okay, that's part of it. But because he takes any chance he can to spend time with you. He hadn't intended to doze off before you'd arrived, but alas sleep had sunken its claws into him. He stirs slightly upon hearing the closing of doors and you saying his name. Curiously, he keeps his eyes shut to see what you'll do while thinking he's asleep. You call his name again, footsteps growing closer until your right by his side. He doesn't expect you to attempt to rouse him by running your fingers through his hair. But you also don't expect him to move so that he's pressing his face into your hands.

[silens-oro]

Well Enough Alone: Part VI

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece) Part III Part IV Trespassing (companion piece) Part V

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

General Synopsis: Hawk and Pope come full circle. Word Count: 5.6k Content Warning: angst; uncomfortable conversations; typical Animal Kingdom warnings AN: you guys have been so amazingly kind about this series. if I could give you each a lil forehead kiss in thanks, I would. just know that I'm reading every comment, reblog, tag, and message you guys post and I'm giggling kicking my feet and twirling my hair. I appreciate every single one of you who have been a long for the ride so far, and to everyone who is just hopping on the Pope x Hawk train. please comment & reblog :)

Hawk’s head pounded as she woke up the next morning. The increasingly familiar hangover was nothing new for her, not recently, and she figured it would be a close companion if things continued the way they were going. The smell of coffee wafting through the air made her eyes snap open and sit up like the living dead. Hawk’s stomach rolled as she stood on wobbly legs. She didn’t give herself a single second to acclimatize herself before trudging down the hall and out to the kitchen. 

“Hey.” Pope greeted stoically as he leaned against the counter, sipping from a coffee mug.

“Hey? Ten days of absolutely no contact from you and hey is the best you’ve got? Give me a fucking break, Pope.” Hawk moved around him, grabbing her own mug and filling it with what was left in the pot before taking it back to her bedroom so she could nurse the headache from Hell that was approaching. 

“We need to talk,” He called out to her, but the only response he got back was the slam of her door that shook the whole back end of the house. 

The sound of Hawk’s cell phone ringing made her head spin. She had fallen back asleep after downing her cup of coffee and the disorientation was making her feel like she needed to puke. Hawk’s hand sloppily hit around the bedside table blindly until her fingers reached the offending tech. Her dry eyes cracked open and squinted at the name on the screen. Sighing, she hit decline before she let her face fall back onto her pillow. Another thirty seconds later, it rang again. 

“I’ve heard enough from you to last a lifetime, Baz.” Hawk’s voice was dry and rough as she spoke. “Someone better be dead.” 

“Have you, uh, talked to Cath at all, Hawk? In the last day or two?” Not to alarm you, Hawk, but we haven’t been able to contact Catherine in nearly two days. Hawk’s stomach sank and bile made its way up the back of her throat. “Hawk?”

“No, I haven’t talked to her, Baz. Is everything alright? Is Lena okay?”

“Yeah,” He paused. “Lena’s here with me. Just haven’t been able to get a hold of Cath. Can you do me a favor and reach out to her? Maybe she’ll answer your calls. She’s probably just pissed at me and I want to make sure she’s alright.” Catherine wouldn’t leave Lena. Never. Hawk wasn’t close to the woman, but she knew how fiercely she protected her daughter and would never leave her behind for anything.

“I’ll give her a call now, alright? I’ll let you know if I hear from her.” Hawk had a horrible feeling that she’d never get a hold of Catherine, not after what the police told her. If Smurf somehow found out about it…Hawk let the thought die where it began. 

“Thanks, Hawk. I appreciate it.” He hung up, not waiting to hear anything else from Hawk and she was grateful. She shakily brought a pillow up to her face and screamed until her lungs burned. 

Hawk knew Pope was watching her. He had been watching her every move since she resurfaced after Baz’s call and he attempted to approach her three more times before she got in the shower, and all times he was unsuccessful. 

Pope stood in the doorway of her bathroom, and unlike the first time he watched her in the shower, there was nothing inherently sexual about it. He needed her to say something, to look at him, to acknowledge him. He’d take anything at this point because being ignored by her was starting to do his head in. 

Hawk took her time, listening to the music she had playing from the speaker she kept in the bathroom while she exfoliated and shaved. She lathered and rinsed, lathered and rinsed, and Pope knew she was doing it to drag this out as long as she could. 

The shame Pope used to feel when he upset Smurf, and occasionally still felt, was nothing compared to what he was feeling currently. Now, it was amplified to a degree that made his fingers twitch at his sides and made his jaw tick. He’d look away when she turned in his direction because Hawk looking through Pope was worse than not looking at him at all. 

After the third time she brushed Pope off, he gave Hawk her space, but still moved from room to room with her as she went about her day. It was a Monday and the shop was closed, so she had nowhere to go and only had time to kill. 

Pope haunted every room Hawk inhabited and it killed her when he looked at her like a wet cat. When Hawk sat on the sofa, Pope sat on the armchair, both in silence as she flicked through the channels on the tv. When she made herself lunch, he stood in the entry to the kitchen and watched as she moved around the kitchen. After a while, he started straightening things out in every room they occupied because it was the only thing his brain could control in the situation. 

Every tidy. 

Everything in order. 

Everything in its place.  

The shower turned off and Pope continued to watch as Hawk grabbed a towel to wrap around herself before stepping out of the shower and around Pope like he was an obstacle. He followed her, as he had all afternoon, and sat on the edge of her bed facing the closet while she got dressed. Pope’s fingers continued their nervous tapping against his thigh, jaw clenched, and he looked ready to puke if this went on for much longer. 

Hawk was still slightly damp when she bypassed Pope to grab her sunglasses on the nightstand. He swallowed thickly when the scent of her body wash enveloped him, teasing his senses in the worst way. Hawk slid the door open to her private area on the deck and stepped outside. She heard him sigh from inside as she lowered herself to sit on the top step. 

“Please just talk to me.” Pope broke as he came to sit next to Hawk, his knee boldly resting against hers, searching for any form of physical contact he could get with her. 

“I haven’t heard from you in over a week, Pope. You did that, not me. I tried to fix this and you wouldn’t let me so as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing that needs to be said.” The warmth of the sun was relaxing in an otherwise tense setting. 

“There’s plenty that needs to be said.” Pope’s eyes squinted, brows pinched together, as he looked out to the horizon. “I know it wasn’t you. I confronted Smurf about the pills.”

“I heard.” He glanced over at Hawk quizzically. “Baz stopped by a few days ago. I’d say I was disappointed you didn’t actually strangle her, but I’d never want to put that on you. Not when I could do it myself.” Hawk mumbled the last bit under her breath, but Pope still heard it. 

“We had a job-” He started to explain, but was swiftly cut off.

“-Yeah, Pendleton.” Hawk chuckled sardonically. “How’d that go, by the way? Considering you haven’t landed yourself back in lock up, I’m going to assume things either went fine or you haven’t done it yet.” 

“You really want to know?” Hawk shrugged, looking to the flowerbed she missed a few weeds in. “How do you know about Pendleton?”

“It doesn’t matter. Is that why you iced me out? So you could focus on the job?” Hawk picked at her nails, doing everything she could to not look at him. 

“No.” Pope admitted, “Not completely, anyway.” Hawk scoffed, turning her head in the opposite direction of where he was sitting so he couldn’t see her face at all. “I had some shit I needed to figure out, Hawk.” Vin, Cath, Smurf, Lena, the job. 

“And you couldn’t have just said that? Jesus Christ, Pope, I didn’t deserve that.” Hawk shook her head, turning back to Pope. “Ten days, Pope. Ten fucking days of silence. In what world does what I did require that kind of punishment?”

“I wasn’t punishing you.”

“That’s exactly what it was.” She snapped. “You were punishing me because you couldn’t punish Smurf.” Baz’s explanation regurgitated through Hawks’s mouth and the words, although true, felt acidic like bile. “You were punishing me because you knew I’d care that you did, and that it would hurt me if you did it because I hurt you -and that gave you control over the situation.” He didn’t deny it. 

“That’s part of it.”

“Well that doesn’t work for me, Pope.” Hawk’s voice was firm, reprimanding, and she didn’t know how much longer she could keep her spine about her when he looked at her like that. Like he knew he disappointed her. It was scarily similar to the look J gave her the night before -a Cody trait shared with J’s mom’s twin. “And that’s not even the biggest problem we have right now.” Hawk turned to face Pope fully and he could feel a tug in his chest at how goddamn defeated she looked. 

Hawk sat for a moment, contemplating her next words as she let out a sigh. 

“You have been purposefully lying to me since you stepped foot in my house.” She removed the sunglasses from her face to reveal her bloodshot eyes. Pope blinked, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for something to say. “From day fucking one, you’ve lied to me.” 

Pope’s heart raced. The only thing that crossed his mind was Catherine, but the timeline didn’t line up and there was no way Hawk could’ve learned about what he did. He and Smurf were the only two people alive on the planet who knew about what Pope did, and Smurf wouldn’t rat him out to Hawk of all people. Not about this, even at her maddest. Still, it felt like his stomach was trying to escape through his throat the longer she held his eyes with hers. 

“I was so unbelievably angry with you. I wanted to scream and yell and take all of my anger and frustration out on you when you finally decided to grace me with your goddamn presence, but now the fight’s left me, Pope. Now I’m hurt more than anything because you of all people know what it’s like to be deceived by someone you cares about you.” It wasn’t even the latest pill incident she was referencing. A lifetime of deceit from his own mother and Baz had its hooks dug deep into Pope. He carried that weight with him, unable to release it because there was nowhere to release it. That feeling stuck around like an old friend and he never wanted Hawk to feel that, not intentionally. Pope knew he fucked up something, he just didn’t know what it was or when it happened. It’s hard to keep track of the skeletons in your closet when it’s filled to the brim, even when you’re as meticulous as Pope Cody.

“What are you talking about?” Pope’s voice was low, genuinely confused at the direction Hawk had taken this conversation. This couldn’t just be about the time he fell off the face of Hawk’s Earth. 

“J, Pope.” There it was. Everything lined up and Pope finally understood. Somehow, probably from the kid himself, Hawk found out about J’s little field trips. “I’m talking about J and the shit you’ve pulled him into after telling me, promising me, that he wasn’t involved in any of it.” Hawk glared at him. “I don’t know why you did it, but you kept it from me and you lied about it when I asked you point blank.” She broke eye contact with him, looking back out into the yard. “I understand that I hurt you in my own way, Pope. I’m not minimizing that, but these are two very different situations.” Pope released a breath of relief, as fucked up as that was. With everything else going on around him, this was one of the smaller problems he could deal with -and he would deal with it. 

“I know. ” Pope squinted again as he looked over the backyard with her. He needed to fix this rift that he let split between them, and Pope wasn’t the type to lay his feelings and emotions out in the open, but he had to let Hawk know that he understood. “I saw Julia in him, Hawk, and I hated it. I hated how close you were to him and I guess…if I could bring him in, destroy some piece of him so I could let go of her, but I realized that yeah, he looked like Julia, but everything else?” He turned to Hawk, “That was all you and by the time I figured that out, he already got a taste of it.” Hawk rested her elbows on her thighs and she let her face fall into her hands. 

“You don’t understand the lengths I went to, Pope, to keep this from happening.” Pope squatted in front of her, forearms resting on his thighs. “Josh is supposed to go to college, have a life, maybe have a family one day. He was supposed to exist in a world where this shit didn’t touch him and you helped decimate that. All I’ve thought about was him either ending up in prison, or worse -dead. I can’t lose him too. I won’t come back from that.” Pope didn’t have the heart to tell her that Prison was the worst option of the two. If J was lucky, he’d end up in a casket before it ever got to that, but looking at Hawk, he silently vowed to himself to look after the kid. As much as he could without being obvious about it, anyway. 

“I told you before that everything I touched...” Turns to ash. “J was no exception.” Hawk picked her head back up and leveled Pope with a look. 

“Just because it’s been that way, doesn’t mean it has to stay that way.” He nodded, standing back up. Pope turned his back to Hawk so he could face the ocean and cut that line of vulnerability so he could take a breath. His hair was a brighter red under the direct sunlight, Hawk noticed as she watched Pope. 

“J is a part of my life, a very big part, and he always will be.” Hawk left no room for speculation. “If this is going to be a continuous problem, then you need to say something now because I will never leave him behind. For anyone. You understand that, right?” The slightest of nods was given to her, though he didn’t turn around. “J is with me for life, Pope. We’re a package deal. You don’t get one without the other.” Hawk hoisted herself up and walked over to Pope to stand next to him. “But that doesn’t mean I give anything less to you, Pope. They’re different parts, each one a different type of love. One is just as important as the other. Are you okay with that?” Pope turned to fully face Hawk, initiating touch with her once more by bringing his hand up to cup the side of her neck, just under her jaw. Her eyes closed at the contact and she took a step closer to Pope.

Hawk missed him, even as pissed off as she was, she truly missed his presence in the house -in her bed at night. He was quiet, observant, but dutifully by her side when he was home. She missed his touch, his presence, his cologne -him. She missed the space he took up, even though he didn’t try to take up any of it. From being alone for so long with J coming and going as he got older, to having Pope fall back in and out of her life, the whiplash Hawk was experiencing was hard to manage.

“I get that now, believe me.” Pope bit his lip before letting it go. “I don’t have any more problems with J. He’s not a bad kid,” His shoulder raised in a half shrug, “-especially to have around you. He’s smart, loyal.”

“Not nearly smart enough and loyal to the wrong people apparently.” Hawk scoffed, thinking back to the fight she had with J the night before. Hawk tried to give J some leeway, she really did, but it was hard. She experienced what he did, albeit just slightly different. It was easier for her to say no to the temptation because the people she was saying no to were her age at the time. J, on the other hand, was dealing with four grown men who were at least twice his age and had decades of experience being who they were. They were pushy, aggressive, even downright mean at times. She was in denial, Hawk realized. As long as J was in that house, he was never coming out unscathed. 

You left me, Hawk winced, shaking the thought out of her head as she pulled away from Pope.  

“He cares about you.” His eyes followed Hawk as she stepped around the yard. “He loves you. He’d die for you. That alone makes him okay in my book.” Hawk turned to walk back towards Pope, determination filling her.

“And you?” Hawk put Pope on the spot. His face hardened, but not in anger. Pope matched Hawk’s seriousness as she stopped directly in front of him. 

“You know I do, and I would.” Pope said without hesitation, as if his admission wasn’t absolutely earth shattering to Hawk. Pope’s eyes stared into her soul as he reached his hand out to take hers. Hawk let him pull her hand up to his lips, both of them yearning to feel any part of each other that they could before bridging that gap. He gently pulled her closer, coaxing her in just close enough to lean down to press his forehead to hers.

Pope let his confession settle for a moment before continuing, his voice lowering even further as he spoke. It was intimate in a way Hawk had never heard Pope speak before. “My time locked up -I don’t need to tell you how bad it was.” The feeling of his lips moving against her temple was soothing, and the more he spoke, the more she craved him at a molecular level. 

“The day you showed up, I felt like I could breathe again, you know? You’re all I thought about for three years, Hawk. This,” he held up their conjoined hands, “is all I thought about -what I imagined you felt like, the way you smelled, your warmth. Everything. And every time I closed my eyes, it was you. Every call and every visit kept me going and made me feel like I was dying a slow agonizing death all at the same time because I was stuck there…” He trailed off, letting the impact of his words hit her. His hands, both of them this time, returned to her jaw. 

“I’m sorry for pulling J into this.” He nodded with his words, “I did it for selfish reasons, plain and simple. My head wasn’t screwed on right.” He swallowed thickly, “I was just released, I finally got to be around you without any kind of barrier and that was overwhelming. Julia was dead, and then here comes this kid -her kid, who knew every single thing about you. He lived in your house. He spent time with you. He existed alongside you for years. He loved you and you loved him back so fiercely in a way I didn’t think anyone could love their kid. He’s not even blood and you’ve done everything to give him the best life he could have because you loved Julia.” There was something underlying there, and Hawk knew exactly what it was. Pope resented Baz for how Smurf treated Baz as opposed to himself -her actual son. This didn’t excuse what Pope did, but it was starting to make a little bit of sense to Hawk. 

“Smurf gave him my room like I was never coming back -they sold my house. J had you, he had Smurf, he had my things. And it was like I was obsolete and replaced with something new and untainted. I was territorial, unadjusted, and backed into a corner, but he was still a kid who didn’t ask for any of this. None of us did.” Finally, Hawk wrapped her arms timidly around Pope’s waist. He allowed her head to drop to his chest and let his eyes close after finally truly feeling her against him. 

“We can’t do this, Pope.” Hawk mumbled against his shirt. “Not if this is how this relationship is going to function. I can’t live like this -I won’t.” 

“It won���t be.” He promised. “I can’t lose this, Hawk.” Pope’s hands ran up and down between her shoulders as he held her. Pope was very obviously uncomfortable with the conversation, but he was willing to be vulnerable with her -for her. “There is no one else and there never will be after you.” Hawk pulled back just enough to create a little bit of space between them without actually letting go.

“I’m not ending this, Pope, but this” Hawk pointed between them, “is a partnership, and we are supposed to act as a unit. I’m too old to be doing this. I’m not asking for the world, just you. Not Smurf, not the bullshit. Just you.” 

“Okay.” Hawk’s palm held Pope’s cheek so his attention stayed on her as she spoke. 

“Then all of that ends now. The lies and the scheming -all of it. Do your jobs, but you don’t bring any of that shit home. If you need to talk about it, that’s one thing, but anything physical stays out.” He nodded. “We do this our way. If something is bothering you, if something happens, you need to talk to me about it. You don’t disappear and then reappear when you’re ready because I won’t be here waiting again. The same goes for me. We talk and work things out, but we always stay honest with each other.” Hawk thought for a moment. “And we don’t go to bed angry. I’ve had too many of those nights as of recent and I’m done with it. Those are my stipulations for this.” Pope nodded again. “I mean it, Pope. No more lies. I need to hear you say it.” 

“We talk things out. Stay honest. Never go to bed angry.” His eyes were earnest and Hawk genuinely believed him as he said it, but that little bit of doubt that stuck around -like a gnat flying in her face- kept itself nice and cozy in the darkest recesses of her mind.  

“Okay,” Hawk whispered, closing the distance between them for the first time in ten days. 

It’s fixed. Can we talk?

That’s the text Hawk receives from J while she’s working at the shop a few days later. She stared down at her phone for a moment, typing and then deleting what she wrote, then typing it out again. 

When I’m ready. Was Hawk’s response. She wasn’t mad at J -not anymore, but the hurt still lingered and she needed time to work through everything that had come to light between him and Pope. She’d invite him over for dinner soon and they’d hash out what they needed to so they could move forward. Hawk meant every word she said to Pope about J -she’d always be there for him. In no way was she okay with what he was doing, nor did she know just how deep he was into it, but they would make it out of this. 

“Still no word on Cath?” Hawk asked as she got comfortable in the bed. Two months had passed since Pope essentially vowed his heart and soul to Hawk. Things had moved slowly between them, both reacclimating with the other. Pope tiptoed around Hawk, needing to be reassured that he was fine and that his presence was wanted.

“No,” Pope answered as walked out of the bathroom fresh from a shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. Hawk wiggled her eyebrows at him and checked him out very obviously, causing a furious blush to travel from his chest, up to his neck, then flushing his cheeks. Pope rolled his eyes knowing that was the reaction Hawk was going for, but she still saw the tilt of the corner of his mouth nonetheless. 

Pope did not inherently seek attention. He avoided it at all cost, but he did secretly love it when Hawk threw it at him in the intimate confines of the house. Just to be a tease, he dropped the towel coyly as he stepped into the closet, giving her a show of his perfectly sculpted ass and muscular back.

“Watch it or I’m liable to start howling at the moon.” Hawk called out to him as she flipped the comforter over her legs. She heard Pope laugh, ever so lightly, from inside the closet as he fumbled around for a pair of pajama pants. He was typically a nude sleeper, but when Lena was in the house he made sure he was appropriately clothed at all times. Both of them did after Lena tried to climb into their bed after she had a nightmare.  

It had been over two months since Catherine left, or went missing. Hawk leaned on missing considering the fact Pope said Lena was left alone in the house the night that Cath disappeared, but he also mentioned that she stole cash from Smurf -ten grand. That wasn’t chump change, but it also wasn’t enough to just disappear without a trace. The thought of disappearing was one of the scariest things Hawk could think of. 

Lena was the light of Cath’s life. She lived for her daughter  and even Hawk knew she would’ve never left without Lena. Something didn’t add up with any of it, and Hawk spent more time than she’d like to admit dwelling on it. On the other side of things, Baz wasn’t equipped to be an actual father to a child (ironically). Cath did all the nurturing -school drop offs, doctors appointments, feeding, and all around caring for Lena with minimal help from Baz, so that left the young girl in the hands of Smurf when this whole catastrophe started.  

The interesting turn of events for Hawk was when Pope casually asked her one morning over breakfast if it was alright to bring Lena over occasionally. “Just to get her out of Smurf’s.” He said, like he needed to convince Hawk. He still considered himself a guest in the house they both essentially shared, and he wasn’t the type of person to assume anything under someone else’s roof. Pope had taken to his niece like a house on fire and it was genuinely endearing to see him interact with Lena. They were kindred spirits of a sort, an unlikely pair, but they connected with each other when the remainder of the family neglected them. 

Of course, Hawk was perfectly fine with Lena coming over and so “occasionally” turned into “most of the time”. Taking care of Lena brought a spark to Pope that Hawk didn’t know he had and it was refreshing to see someone who lived such a tortured existence let go.

Hawk’s heart hurt for Lena. The first couple of weeks without her mother were trying on everyone at Smurf’s, according to Pope. Hawk wasn’t around the house during that time for obvious reasons, but Pope made sure to tell her what was going on between the family. 

Lena had a lot of questions, as a young child who was attached at the hip to her mother would, and she didn’t get many -if any- answers back. Baz was short with her, Pope said when he brought up the idea of Lena initially coming over. Baz’s annoyance and short temper at having to actually parent was actually baffling to Hawk. Lena was well mannered, quiet, and liked to express herself in ways that mostly involved some kind of coloring utensil and a coloring book. She was a dream kid if Hawk ever saw one, considering who her father was as a child. Smurf, on the other end of the spectrum, let the kid run amok eating whatever she wanted, staying up as late as she wanted, without a single rule in the house. Not that Lena was bad by any means, but structure, even a little bit, was needed for any kid as they grew up. Hawk learned that very early on with J. 

After a couple weeks of Pope bringing Lena around, she became attached to Hawk. Hawk was maternal in a way her grandmother wasn’t and she latched onto any kind of comfort she could -and that happened to be Hawk. Lena didn’t smile often anymore, reserving herself after being told to stay quiet by her father time and time again, but with Pope and Hawk, she was as happy as she could be in the absence of her mother. Pope also told her about how Baz would yell at the little girl and how Lena would act out in ways that weren’t destructive, but just annoying enough to get a reaction out of her father. She needed attention, nurturing, and love - things that children were owed, and Lena wasn’t getting any of that from Baz. Hawk almost blew a gasket when Pope mentioned Lucy’s presence in all of this. She told herself that if she ever saw Baz in the street, she’d hit him with her car first and ask questions later.

In her own way, Hawk also became attached to Lena. It was a familiar feeling she remembered having when J was little. J and Lena were similar when J was her age. Both were kids with easy temperaments who just wanted to matter to the people who brought them into the world, and both had been let down spectacularly. 

Lena was kind, smart, polite and as cute as a button. She had an adventurous streak to her and she also had a very peculiar sense of humor when she wanted to come out of her shell. Pope, out of everyone, seemed to be one of the only people to be able to get her comfortable enough to do that. 

The spare bedroom that Pope had occupied when he first moved in was turned into a bedroom for Lena so she could have her own space. Sage walls made way for a pastel lavender that Lena picked out herself one weekend when Hawk and Pope took her shopping for some things to call her own, and the queen sized bed was swapped for a twin canopy bed that Pope was all too happy to put together the same afternoon they bought it. Pope paid for it, all of it, even when Hawk argued to just split. He insisted that Lena was his responsibility and that letting her stay in the house was more than he could’ve ever asked of Hawk. 

Childrens clothes, shoes, toys, and books slowly started to fill up the pastel room. Dress up costumes had their own rack that Pope mounted to the wall. Then came a little desk so Lena could color and draw in the comfort of her own space. Hawk’s mind imagined what it would’ve been like to have Pope here while she was raising J and she wondered if he could’ve ever loved J as he very openly loved Lena. How different things could’ve been for all three of them.  

Before Hawk knew it, she couldn’t imagine Lena and Pope not occupying the house with her. Pope, in turn, had moved into Hawk’s bedroom -now their bedroom. Lena spent nights over frequently, more frequently than Smurf would’ve liked. At one point, about a month after Hawk and Pope made up, the hatchet between Smurf and Hawk was finally buried. Hawk still kept Smurf at arm's length, but Smurf was all too happy to have her back in the circle.

Pope padded back into the bedroom after finally finding his chosen pair of pajamas for the night. They were blue with little birds on them and they hung dangerously low on his hips -low enough to show off the v-cut of his lower abdomen that disappeared beneath the waistband. It was distracting, and as Pope got more and more comfortable in his own skin around Hawk, the saucier he’d get around her. This was one of the things he knew drove her crazy.

“My eyes are up here.” Hawk barked out a laugh of surprise at Pope’s deadpanned joke. 

“Your eyes may be up there, but mine are down there.” She motioned with her eyes to where she was looking before, then rolled them back up to meet his. Pope crawled up the length of the bed until he reached her. His hand immediately attached itself to her waist as Hawk pulled him up to meet her kiss and toyed with the waistband of his pajamas with a single finger, letting it slide just under the hem to get his blood pumping. 

“Not while Lena’s here,” Pope mumbled against her lips, knowing she was teasing him. 

“I know, but who’s to say we can’t make out like a couple of horny teenagers?” Hawk challenged with a grin that told Pope she was up to absolutely no good. She wiggled her eyebrows once more for good measure and that was it for him. “Make up for lost time.”

“Can’t say no to that.” His mouth captured hers once more, both of them pawing at each other.

please comment & reblog :)

and just like that, we've transitioned to season two. there's plenty more to come for hawk and pope.

[ghosty-writes-23]

After Office Hours. Leon S Kennedy.

!TAGS!: NSFW Content, Established Relationship, !UNEDITED!, Soft!Dom!Leon, Age Gap (both Leon and the reader are in their late 20’s) Taboo Relationship, Professor x Student, Power Dynamic, Pet names (Sweetheart, Darling, Good Girl.) Praise, Protected Sex, Spanking, Fingering, Desk sex.

Pairing: ID!Professor!Leon + Student!Fem!Reader.

Rating: Mature

Summary: Class is now in session....

Word Count: 3.6k

Ghosty's Notes: Hello beautiful people, I am back with other oneshot from the polls results, which I wanted to say a massive thank you to everybody that voted, this oneshot was based off an old JJK oneshot that didn't do so well so if you see a name that isn't Leon's, I'm sorry I have tried to edit it as much as I can and may have missed something.

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Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty :] ❤️🦝

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Sunlight filtered softly through the thin almost sheer curtains, painting the bedroom in a warm hue of orange, yellow and gold. The sound of the busy morning traffic people making their daily commutes to morning part time job, classes or even full-time job was almost mute in the cozy upstairs apartment.

Where the only sound could be hear was Y/n faint snores in the bedroom as she slept in soundly and her boyfriend Leon who had just recently showered was downstairs preparing coffee for the both of them, it was quiet and peaceful in the apartment.

Y/n face was buried in Leon’s pillow ever since he had left their shared bed, her hair was a tousled mess from tossing and turning last night as well as Leon playing with it until she feel asleep. Leon always found her ‘messy bed hair’ adorable even when she would whine and protest saying she looked like she had been pulled though a hedge backwards and upside down by her ankle.

“Wake up sleepyhead.” Leon softly whispered as he walked into their shared bedroom, holding a cup of her favourite coffee, Y/n could hear his footsteps coming closer towards the bed causing a soft unintelligible whine to leave her lips as she pulled the blanket over her head in resistance. Leon chuckled at the gesture as he placed the mug of coffee down and gently tugged the blanket down from her face. “there’s my girl, I made your favourite.” Leon says trying to convince her to come out of the blanket and drink her coffee before it gets too cold.

But Y/ was stubborn and kept the blanket over her head. Causing Leon to playfully sigh before a small smirk comes onto his face. “Well since your not going to put the blanket down I guess I will just have to eat the breakfast I made for you downstairs then.” Leon says in a joking manner, but it was enough to get her to drop the blanket. Y/n eyes fluttered open but she quickly squinted them at the brightness of the room.

“You wouldn’t dare.” She mumbled her voice was raspy from sleep, but Leon just chuckled and shock his head but there was still that teasing smirk on his lips. “oh, I will sweetheart.” Leon says causing her to groan and roll onto her side but there was a smile on her face. But soon she sat up in bed and reached over and grabbed the ug Leon had prepared earlier, she took a small sip and hummed softly just the way she liked it.

“Your too good to me, you know that.” y/n said as she sipped her coffee, Leon looked at her with a gentle smile and shook his head. “No Princess I am the lucky one I mean your willing to sneak around another’s back just so we can be together, and I know the last week has been stressful because of exams for you but I want to take care of you even if its as something as little as making you a cup of coffee in the morning.” Leon spoke making Y/n heart swell with affection.

“Your too sweet sometimes.” Y/n says with a small, embarrassed blush on her cheeks but there was some truth in Leon’s words, she had been so busy with exam this week and she had been sneaking around with him since he was her law and criminal justice professor, but soon she was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Leon’s voice again.

“now come on, you need to get dressed then I’ll drop you off at the library just before the campus.” Leon spoke and Y/n nodded and pushed the blankets off her body, she grabbed her phone and looked at the time and saw she had a message, she knew it was from her best friend asking if they are meeting at the library before class because she needed Y/n help with some homework, since both of them had a few classes before Leon’s in the afternoon. After replying to her best friend’s message, she made quick work of getting dressed and gather her books for classes.

*Later that Afternoon.*

The Lecture hall way buzzing with chatter and laughter as student’s talked about what they plan on doing in this weekend, who’s frats were throwing parties and gossiping about who slept with who or any other drama that was circling around the campus this week, As Y/n shuffled into her seat she let out exhausted yawn as she sat down on the padded seats at the front, the lack of restful sleep had been starting to take effect, she was nearly falling asleep in her last class but that was because it was really boring, but it was a class her best friend convinced her to try at the start of the semester.

At least she knew Leon’s class was going to be chill hopefully because she don’t know if she could take any more formal writing after writing the 10k paper on how the criminal justice system works and analyzing policies and legislations, she had even tried to sweeten the deal with Leon to just give her a passing grade, but being the gentlemen he was he declined and told her she could do it and helped her.

Just as Y/n was grabbing her textbooks for class a coffee cup was slid over to her; she could smell the bitter coffee and sweet sugar. “You look like shit.” Her best friend comments causing Y/n to cringe ever so slightly because she knew she did, she had her hair in a bun and was wearing an oversized hoodie and a pair of Leon’s sweatpants,  since she had ran out of clean clothes and couldn’t be stuffed going back to her apartment this morning. “I know.” Y/n agreed with her as she tried to get comfortable in the lecture hall padded seat, once she was comfortable she placed her hand on her chin and sipped her coffee.

Leon walked in soon after, today he was wearing his dark navy-blue suit set with an undershirt, he looked smart yet there was something undeniably sexy about seeming him in a suit. Y/n could hear some of the females in her class whispering about Leon, wondering if he was single or even married.

Sipping her coffee Y/n couldn’t help smirk slightly as Leon stepped up to the front podium, the summer afternoon sun filtered though the floor to celling windows giving the lecture hall a warm orange, yellow an golden hue that reminded her of when the leaves changed in autumn, she really missed the colder seasons.

“good Afternoon class.” Leon addressed the classroom, his voice cutting though the chatter and gossiping, most of the students started to settle while some where chatting in hushed whispers at the back of the class, most of the students gave him there full attention while there where a few like Y/n’s best friend that was mindlessly drawing in their notebooks, others were trying to make it look like they were listening when in reality, they were fighting against zoning out and class had only just began.

“Today we will be reviewing the last assignment I gave out, because it seemed like somebody people didn’t understand the assignment or didn’t even try.” Leon says causing some of the students to groan, even Y/n could feel a headache coming on at just the thought of the last assignment, Y/n spent most of the class spacing out to distracted by Leon to even really focus, the way when the sun caught his skin giving it a warm glow, or when he used his arms to further explain his point.

She was too busy staring at his forearms or listening to his voice to even really be paying attention, he could be explaining the store receipt to her, and she would hang off his every word like a puppy listening to its owner for a treat, but soon she was soon snapped out of her thoughts when she felt something tap her nose, snapping her train of thought and she looked up and saw Leon with a rolled up piece of paper. “Miss y/l/n zoning out are we, are my classes really that boring?” Leon asked with a slightly teasing tone and with a raised eyebrow, you couldn’t help but flush in embarrassment.

“Sorry Mr. Kennedy.” Y/n says with an embarrassed blush and she sank back in her chair as she could hear some of the girls giggling behind her, even her best friend. “See me after class in my office.” Leon said and Y/n gulped slightly and nodded her head. “Yes sir.” She said quietly as Leon went back to teaching the class and Y/n wished the ground would open up and swallow her.

*After Class In Leon’s Office.*

After saying goodbye to her best friend after class since she was heading to her part time job at the local diner, Y/n wanted to try and catch her before her shift finished she loved the black forest cake that the owner always makes. Reaching Leon’s office Y/n took a deep breath before she reached up and knocked on the oak door and waited for permission to enter his office because he would have a other student or a member of staff in there, Once she heard Leon’s voice telling her to enter, Y/n quickly entered the office and closed the door behind her.

“Lock the door.” Leon spoke as the door clicked softly closed, Y/n nodded her head and turned the lock and a soft click rang out through the dimly lit office, the only light that was-on-was Leon’s desk lamp. He beckoned her over and Y/n slid her bag off her shoulders and placed it on the couch by his door before walking over to him, her feet gently padding against the hardwood floor. Once she was within reach Leon gently tugged her closer so she was straddling his thigh.

“What had my baby so distracted today hmm?” Leon asked with a small teasing but loving smile, Y/n couldn’t help a small whine leaving her throat as she is reminded of what happened earlier today. “I know I know I’m sorry.” Y/n said before she rested her forehead on his shoulder, a shiver ran down her spine as she felt his touch as he gently caressed his back. “are my lecture’s really that boring?” he asks as he gently grabs her chin with his thumb ad index finger, Y/n could hear the playfulness in his tone and it caused her to roll her eyes.

“Maybe I should punish you, since you seem to be acting like a little brat.” Leon says smoothly as his voice dropped a few octaves deeper, as his hand trailed down from her back and to her hips then to her thighs before he grabbed the side a gentle squeeze through her sweatpants as a playful warning. “I’m sorry I spaced out in your lecture Leon.” Y/n said as she bumped her forehead against his as she tried to cute her way out this punishment, but she knew it was fruitless.

“Over my lap sweetheart.” Leon says causing Y/n to pout slightly, but she did as she was told and moved so now she was laying across Leon’s lap. She felt his hand gently massaging her ass through her sweatpants before carefully tugging them down to her mid-thigh, revealing her black lacy strappy thong. “it was the only clean pair of underwear I had at your place.” Y/n weakly protested as she felt him gently tugging on the top of panties causing them to ride up against her ass.

“And it just so happened to be the black lacy ones.” He says as he rubs his hand over the soft skin of her ass cheek, just before she was going to say another weak protest his hand came down on her ass with a firm but careful spank causing her to gasp in surprise and slightly buck her hips against his. “Count sweetheart.” Leon spoke as he rubbed his hand the pink handprint mark that was forming on her ass, as if he was trying to sooth the stinging.

“One.” Y/n said in a soft breath as the stinging in her ass cheek was slowly subsiding now, well that was until she felt another spank against her ass, causing her to grip the edge of his pants in her hands. “Two.” She called out softly this time a little more breathless, she could hear Leon humming to himself as she repeated the same soothing motion as before. “Such a good girl for me.” He softly praised before he softly lifted her chin and kissed the top of her forehead, the kiss causing a purr of affection to leave her lips.

“just a couple left princess, you okay.” Leon asked concern clear in his voice, it made her heart flutter at his concern for her wellbeing and safety. Y/n nodded her head giving Leon a small and reassuring smile, she knew he was punishing her for a reason and he has never spanked her more than 5 times, she would be a good girl and take them because she wanted to be his good girl. When the third spank came her grip on his pants tightened more, the stinging was a little more painful this time since the area felt as if it was already starting to bruise.

“Three.” Y/n called out this time a bit more pained then before, Leon must of noticed this because instead of rubbing to sooth the stinging he leant down and placed a soft kiss on the bruise that was forming on her ass. “Color?” Leon asked Y/n knew Leon never actually want to hurt her or frighten her, he wanted her to feel loved, safe and comfortable in his presence, and that just made her love him even more than she already did.

“Green.” Y/n says with a small smile before he spanked her over cheek causing a soft hiss of pain to leave her lips. “Four.” She says through her teeth before she gently tugged up and Leon peppered kisses all over her face, forehead, cheeks and lips as he knew she was at her limit even if she wouldn’t admit it.

“Such a good girl for me darling taking your punishment so well.” He praised her and before she could get a word out, she felt his middle finger and ring finger start to gently tease her folds, causing Y/n to catch her bottom lip between her teeth to muffle the soft mews that were begging to leave her lips at the pleasure she was feeling. “Leon, please.” His name fell from her lips like a sweet plea for more, she could feel her walls clench around nothing as she was aching for his touch, she wanted his fingers inside her, she needed him to touch her.

“Well since you took your punishment so well sweetheart.” Leon says before sinking those same two fingers inside her warm and wet silk walls, a soft groan like growl leaving his lips as he realized how wet she was, a mew like moan left her lips at the stretch of his fingers but it was soon muffled by Leon’s spare hand covering her mouth.

“Quiet love there are still some professor’s here.” He whispers softly as he slowly worked his fingers in all the right spots that could make her eyes roll back in her head, from the hours he spent exploring her body behind closed doors. Y/n nodded her head as she moaned into his hand, her eyes fluttered closed as she was melting at the sensations and her thighs started to tremble ever so slightly. Her back arched when she felt him use his thumb to gently rub circles on her clit.

She was melting under his touch and she could feel her climax fast approaching, but quickly she moved his hand away from her mouth, causing him to stop what he was doing in fear he was hurting her or making her uncomfortable. “What’s wrong? And I hurting you?” Leon asked worriedly but Y/n shook her head as she was breathing heavily. “No, I just want you inside me as I come.” Y/n said with burning cheeks and the request made even a small color flush on Leon’s face.

Leon cleared his throat and she could feel how hard he was through his pants, since his cock had been poking her in the stomach since he started spanking her. “There is a condom in my middle draw in a small tin.” Leon said as he tried to adjust himself, Y/n nodded her head and reached over to the middle draw and pulled it out, inside was a few files of paperwork and up and coming homework which Y/n knew was going to give her headache, but she didn’t think of that right now.

When she found the small tin, it looked like a small first aid kit with band aids in them and maybe some Panadol not condoms. “And what is a professor doing with these in his desk.” Y/n asked him with a slight tease in her voice, to which Leon gave her bruised ass a spank causing a stinging spark to run up her back, but she just playfully rolled her eyes and handed him one of the condom packets.

Y/n got up on Leon’s desk not caring about the files ad paperwork that where under her body, she heard Leon hiss softly the cold office air hit his cock as he unbuckled his belt, his cock sprang free with a small bead of precum on his tip.

“You might want to close your mouth princess; you might catch flies.” Leon now teases her causing a deeper blush to color her cheeks, she looked away but she could hear him chuckling before a soft gasp left her lips as she felt Leon’s tip gently poke her entrance, both of their bodies shuddering in pleasure.

“You ready Darling?” Leon asked her and she nodded her head and wrapped her legs around his waist, he reached down and grasped his cock, before lining it up and slowly and carefully pushing inside.

A sweet cry of pleasure left her lips as her hips arched off Leon’s desk, his cock stretching her out perfectly like it always does, her hands went to grip his shoulders but he pinned both of her arms above her head, caging her between his desk and his body.

“Quiet Sweetheart.” Leon shuddered as he was trying to stay quiet as well, but he was having as much trouble as she was. Y/n bit her bottom lip hard nearly enough to draw blood. But one of Leon’s hand came up to her mouth to muffle her moans so she won’t hurt herself.

Y/n couldn’t believe what was really happening, she was getting fucked by her boyfriend in a nearly headlock against his desk, and who also happens to be her Law and criminal justice professor, it also felt like a fever dream and that she didn’t want to wake up.

“you close darling I’m not going to last long.” Leon groaned as he rested his forehead on your shoulder, you nodded your head against his hand, you knew she weren’t going to last long either as her thighs where trembling around his waist. “Yes.” Y/n choked out in between her moans; her head was feeling foggy. “Cumming.” she cried out as she let out a hitch pitch squeal like moan and came around Leon and she felt him soon follow spilling into the condom.

After a couple minutes of them both breathing heavily but there was a smile on each of their face, Y/n reached up and gently cupped his cheeks and pulled his face to hers pressing a soft kiss to his lips, to which he returned with equal softness before breaking the kiss and leaning up to place a kiss on her forehead. “you okay, I wasn’t too rough.” Leon asked as he slowly pulled out causing a soft hiss to leave Y/n’s lips and then she suddenly felt empty.

“No you were perfect as always, but I don’t think I can feel my legs.” She say with a small laugh and even Leon chuckled slightly as he tied a knot in the used condom and tossed it onto the bin. “Well, why don’t we get dressed and I’ll take us back to my place and I’ll cook us some dinner.” Leon suggested causing Y/n smiled and nod her head and noticed he was fully dressed and only had messy hair and a slightly flushed face.

Now Y/n wasn’t with Professor Kennedy but her boyfriend Leon who made her heart race as he treated her like a princess making her always feel loved and cherished, not her professor that made her want to rip out of her hair because she has to read 5 pages of boring legislations for a stuipd assignment, She liked this Leon more.

“can you help me get dressed.” Y/n asked him, and he nodded his head and grabbed his sweatpants she had been wearing today and slowly pulled them up her hips then bent down to pick her up bridal style, he had her backpack over his shoulder.

Y/n rested her head on his shoulder while he walked out of his office and locked it behind them both, Y/n couldn’t wait to get to his place and have some food, watch some TV and maybe even go for round 2….

----------

©Ghosty-writes-23, 2025. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[unholyhelbig]

More Wandanat pls 😊

Title: Are you Avoiding me?

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 2935

Warnings: pet names, sexual situations implied, broken glass, and horrible spelling (I don't proofread).

Summary: It's becoming harder and harder for reader to avoid both Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff. Things only get worse when they're cornered in their lab.

[A/n: This is just a little drabble, that's been sitting in my drafts for months, nothing with too much sustinance! I've been distracting myself lately with Wenclair content instead of writing]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

There were thousands of mugs with Shield’s logo on the side that floated around the compound, changing hands between agents and the high-ranking Avengers. It’s why you felt less bad about dropping the one in your grasp to the floor. It shattered into dozens of pieces, and the rest of the pale coffee you were drinking seeped out of the wreckage.

“Ow! Why? Why?” Clint’s voice had turned to a growl by the end of his sentence. He had righted himself and gripped his own mug to his chest, leveling you with a glare that was much too vicious this early in the morning.

The words were trapped in your throat and you dropped down behind the kitchen island, pressing yourself close enough to the wood to become apart of the grain. If you could just hide long enough for them to wander away, then all would be well.

The archer glanced down at you, and then back to the hallway that passed the communal kitchen. Natasha Romanoff had her brow furrowed, lifting a sculped eyebrow at him. She had just come back from her morning run, a fine sheen of sweat coating her muscles. He gave her a shrug and that was enough encouragement to send her on her way.

You let out a long sigh at the sound of her footsteps retreating. “Don’t look at me like that, Barton.”

“I can look at you anyway I want to, you’re the one that would rather be on the ground than talk to Natasha.”

It wasn’t just talking to Natasha. It was looking at her too; breathing the same air as her, meeting her fern-colored eyes across the room and ceasing to have a tangible thought pattern. You were an Avenger, for fucks sake, an ex-KGB spy shouldn’t make you fumble the way that you did.

“It’s not that hard, y/n. She’s harmless, really.”

That was easy for him to say. You huffed quietly and picked up the broken pieces of mug before depositing them into the trashcan. Coffee would make you too jittery anyway. So, if you really thought about it, your nerves had done you a favor.

“She’s terrifying.” You said, reaching for an empty glass. You filled it up with tap water and tentatively took a sip. It went down clunky and cold. “And gorgeous.”

“A combination that renders you absolutely useless.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Clint lifted both of his eyebrows at you, not saying a word. He didn’t have to. And you didn’t need all of this judgement from him in the first place. He had been so scared of Natasha that he couldn’t bring her in, in the first place. He would tell it differently, but you didn’t stick around to find out.

There were other things that you had to do; like a mountain of paperwork and a few modifications to the Vibranium arm that had found its way onto your desk. A cold shower wouldn’t do you any harm either. And if your fingers were to wander? No one would know.

You flashed him the middle finger, abandoning all thoughts of nourishment for the day. Tony kept his labs stocked with bottled water and granola bars after some nagging from Pepper. That would hold you over until lunch and if you started to drift, there were plenty of electrical sources that would give you a low-grade jolt.

Most of the time, you kept your head down, earbuds in even if they weren’t playing music. It was easier not to get caught up in the fanfare of the Avengers. Most of them were human, and they made human mistakes even if they weren’t.

You answered your superiors and fixed any problems that arose with tech and machinery, sometimes even costuming. Those things were simple, cut and dry. Your feelings for Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff weren’t even slightly that.

There was admiration from afar, and Clint would even say a numbness that clouded your brain completely. That celebrity that all other agents produced around any of the spandex wearing heroes often evaded you.

But each time Wanda stepped through the doors of your lab to get a personal watch fixed, or once, a VHS player that had the scent of smoke and burning plastic. She’d jutted out her lower lip when a copy of ‘I Love Lucy’ was burnt to a crisp.

Despite your meager salary, you had found one at the thrift and set it outside her door without a word. Not a romantic gesture, Clint. You should have seen her face. It was something you’d do as a friend, a co-worker.

Your shoulder collided with something strong, yet soft. There was a small grunt released from the back of your throat. You got a mouthful of the scent of rain and vanilla tobacco. But strong hands were suddenly gripping your forearms, keeping you steady.

Your eyes widened and met with curious hazel ones. You thought you gave Natasha enough time to get back to her room. But here she was, in that tight tank top, sweat drenching the collar. She looked beautiful, the lights overhead hitting her.

Agent Romanoff reached up and pulled one of your earbuds out, letting it hang loose against your chest. “Doctor y/l/n, are you avoiding me?”

“Avoiding?” You laughed with a little too much force, compensating for the lost air by snorting and instantly regretting it. A light blush fell over your cheeks. She didn’t look mad, in fact, she looked quite amused. “No, no. I’m not avoiding.”

“So, what would you call ducking down behind the counter in the kitchen?”

“How did you…”

“I’m a superspy and you’re not exactly subtle.”

Yeah. You’d forgotten about that. She didn’t’ allude to the fact, simply continuing on her way and leaving you to your horrible conversation with Clint. But then she had waited in front of your lab, her own clearance not allowing her past the sliding doors without you in it.

She lilted her head to the side “Don’t worry about it, it’s actually rather adorable.”

The heat against your cheeks started to spread down your neck and to your collarbone. If she noticed, and of course she noticed, she didn’t’ say anything. But she released her hold, and you fought back a whimper of disappointment.

“What can I do for you, Agent Romanoff?”

“Us, actually.” She responded, eyes darting towards the locked doors. “I’d rather talk somewhere a bit more private, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely that’s alight. If this is about the Widow Bites that I redesigned then I can most definitely tweak them. We don’t want you to get a jolt every time you use them. Not that I’m saying you’re not skilled enough to avoid that,”

You kept talking as you swiped your card and it with a beep, walking into the instant familiarity of your lab. There was a coolness there for tactical purposes, but it washed over your heated skin and hopefully took some of the soft color away.

You started to flit around the lab, flicking on all the lights and the different purifiers. There was an experiment that Fitz was working on that needed a rotating heat source and that was turned on as well.

“If we remove the outer panel and with a little tweaking, we can make them non-lethal, heavy with stopping power. They can break up under the sub-cutaneous tissue-“

Again, you ran into Natasha. Her body was so warm and solid, stable compared to the way you buzzed about. The door had slid shut behind you, its frosted glass exterior shielding you from the rest of the world.

This time you didn’t’ rush to apologize, instead you pushed your glasses up to the center of your nose and stared at her in a comfortable silence. “This wasn’t about your widow bites. You said us.”

She nodded at you, suddenly seeming quite shy herself. You’d never seen her avert her gaze before and something about the reaction worried you. Your stomach was doing somersaults, flipping back and forth between pure panic and excitement. This was the longest you two had spent in one another’s space without you bolting from the room.

“For the past six months I’ve been involved in a sexual relationship with Wanda Maximoff.”

“Uh,”

It was the only word that you could muster. Thoughts that flushed your cheeks all over again ran through your mind; bare breasts pressed against each other, lips hungrily clashing, hands raking up perfectly toned muscles. Your eyes were hazy with lust, but you blinked it away just as fast as it had settled. Natasha ghosted a smirk regardless.

“It was purely sexual, we both needed to blow off some steam. I’m sure you know how that is.”

On nights when you needed to ‘blow off steam’, you went into the empty training room and ran for six miles before taking a stark cold shower to loosen your muscles. When you ran, you forgot about the dip of Natasha’s collarbone and the dexterity of Wanda’s fingers.

Now that you thought about it, there were signs that the two of them had something and why shouldn’t they? Subtle touches that led to more. The tenderness in Natasha’s eyes betrayed more. If she hadn’t noticed yet, you weren’t going to be the one to tell her.

“It was fun for a while, a supply closet here, the gym floor there. But going on month seven it’s almost losing its… spark.”

“I’m sorry?” You were cautious with your words, and she giggled, the Black Widow herself was giggling at you.

“I’m not so good at this.”

“You’re good at everything.”

She smiled “Wanda insisted that I come and talk to you first because you’re skittish. Moreso around her than me. She was upset when I told her you let me stay the afternoon in here last week, just watching you work.” 

Each move you made that day was languid. There was a nervousness to you that seemed to vanish when you could open up the back of a monitor and stare at the innerworkings. You were recruited right out of MIT, and though you had been offered more than one job, you jumped at the idea of working in the Stark tower, living here.

She worked her hand through her hair and sighed “see, not so good at this.”

“What exactly is this?”

Natasha furrowed her brow and a small crease formed between her eyebrows in response. You wanted to reach up and smooth it away with the subtle touch of your thumb. That part wasn’t complicated, not like people usually were.

So, you did just that, you touched the pad of your finger to her soft, warm skin and pressed until the tension started to leave her body. Natasha’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and moved your hand until you cupped her cheek. She sighed into the embrace; eyes closed for more than a single moment.

“I want you, y/n.” She mumbled against the palm of your hand, turning it to the side and delivering a single kiss to the pulse point on your wrist. You were sure that she could feel the quickness in which it thrummed. “So does Wanda.”

You were dizzy, suddenly glad for her hold on you. Months, close to a year, you had spent ducking behind counters and taking the long way back to your dorm. They were both stunning to an intimidating degree, to the point where it devastated you.

“Say something, please” Natasha whispered, voice breaking “I know this is a lot and you can absolutely decline. We can forget this conversation ever happened and you can go back to breaking coffee mugs.”

“No! I mean, no. I don’t want to go back to breaking coffee mugs. I think Clint is running a tab, and Mr. Stark isn’t exactly generous with our salaries.”

A grin spread across Natasha’s face. It was like being wrapped in a warm towel after a long day in the rain. You’d do anything to make her smile. You were in down bad, not that you’d admit it to Bird Boy.

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, not trusting your ability to vocalize anything right now. Her lips were on yours, soft and tender. She kissed you slowly, with purpose. The two of you savored the moment, a sigh of extasy escaping you, your arms winding around her shoulders, hers pressing against your spine.

Natasha broke the embrace, staring hazily at you. That cocky smile had turned into a wonderstruck and borderline goofy one. Have you broken the superspy? She’d certainly made you waver. You were effectively rendered silent.

“Oh, sweet girl, how easy it is to fluster you.” Natasha pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “But I fear that a certain witch is lurking just close enough for you to open the door.”

It slid open on its own with a dejected beep. You glanced down at the pocket of your lab coat, badge still attached. A small pout made its way to your lips but softened when Wanda stalked into the mostly empty lab, you felt your defenses lower.

The remnants of red twirled around her fingers- and god, you didn’t mean to stare, but they held a power to them. With Natasha slotted against your body, the primal scent of her, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering. Oh, how good they’d feel on your tongue.

A pink blush crept up her collarbone and at the tips of her ears. Wanda raised a perfectly sculpted brow at you. There was no doubt in your mind that your thoughts were loud enough for her to hear them. And somehow, you didn’t mind one bit. You’d never imagine being this bold with either of them, but the kiss with Natasha had left you heady, greedy for more.

“Have you been able to do that the whole time?” You panted out, watching the door slide shut once more.

“Well, yes. But I respect your privacy… to an extent. You have quite the dirty mind, don’t you?”

“I… you… no!”

You pulled away from Natasha, crossing your arms over your chest. If you weren’t careful, your glasses would fog up just by being in the same vicinity as them both. Sure, there had been a few times where you’d let your mind wander; images of Wanda shoving you against the wall, pinning your arms above your head.

Natasha taking you over the lab table that you made sure was meticulous in every single way each night before you left. The thought of them taking control was alluring, tantalizing. You thought all the time, too much about every move you made. You didn’t want to admit that you’d welcome not thinking at all, even if it was only for a few moments.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Wanda soothed.

“That’s why Stark keeps me in the basement.”

She’d gotten impossibly close. You could smell the lavender shampoo that often accompanied her. They were both taller than you, though, not by much. Your breath still hitched in your throat at her proximity. Wanda tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, lilting her head to the side in a way that made your knees feel unstable.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, and a smile moved across her lips. “You need to use your words, sweetheart.”

“Oh, don’t be mean, Wanda.” Natasha wrapped her arms around your midsection, resting her chin against your shoulder. You felt the incredible warmth she provided, nearly sighing into it. “This is a lot to take in. Baby steps.”

You couldn’t tell which of the two held more control over the situation, but didn’t much care when you felt Wanda’s breath hot against your lips. She closed the distance and you kissed until it stung, until your lungs were begging for air. A desperate noise that you had never made before escaped you when she broke the embrace.

All the while, the calloused pads of Natasha’s fingers were running softly over the expanse of skin between your waistband and shirt. Her touch was so delicate and impossibly warm compared to the coolness of the lab.

Natasha hugged you closer, and you allowed her to. Everything about both women surrounding you screamed control. The darkness that settled over Wanda’s stare made a wetness pool between your thighs. You squeezed them together in an attempt of subtly.

It was like fooling a seer. They could read your body like an open book and you clenched your eyes shut but could still feel the grin that stretched across Natasha’s face in the crook of your neck. It would be so easy to give up control to them.

“Does anyone else have the key to your lab?” Wanda purred, her hand splayed on your chest in a startling grounding motion. Your eyes snapped open, hazy with lust.

You were breathless, stunned. “Just you.”

Wanda’s head tilted, her tongue darting out against her bottom lip. Chills pushed down your spine, Natasha’s hold tightening around your center. You were sure that you’d catch flame right there and wake up from this dream. But neither of them vanished when you blinked.

“Good. What’s your safe word, darling?”

Natasha’s grin was nothing short of wolfish. She squeezed both of your hips possessively, hauling you with a spy’s quickness onto the nearest counter. You nudged a white mug with a SHIELD logo on the front. It fell to the floor, shattered into a million different pieces.

 None of that seemed to matter.

[muffinpink02]

Coffee Shop

Summary - You get a job with Mapi, she's a big flirt, your current partner is a dick, does Mapi sway your mind? Some appearances from the Barca girls. Got a lot done but a lot more to go. This will hava a part 2 at some point.

Warning Smut 18 & rough, consensual sex/shitty partner

“That’s it, just like that. Good” She husked

“Like that?” You whispered, listening intently to the girl's instructions.

“Sí, go a bit higher.” You could see from the corner of your eye she was biting her lip. 

The Spaniard placed her tattooed hands around yours, directing your movements, you felt your breath catch slightly in your throat from her touch. 

“Just like that. You’re doing good, hold it there.” She was so close, you could smell her woody perfume. She let go of your hands, giving you range to move. 

“I can see someone’s getting more comfortable.” Mapi hummed. 

You chuckled softly, her breath tickled your neck. “I have a good teacher.”

The brunette lightly chuckled. “Okay. Now hit it hard so the air bubbles go.”

You pulled the jug of milk from the machine and did as the brunette said.

“Perfecto. Now this part is more tricky, but try and do the heart, like I showed you.”

You tilted the mug with the shot of coffee and poured the frothy milk inside. Trying your best attempt at making the artwork from the steamy milk. You both watched as the hot milk mixed with the coffee. It had started out well but began to look similar to a poo emoji. 

“Ergh. I can’t do it, Mapi.” You looked at the coffee mug, a frown now on your face. 

The Spaniard put her hand on your shoulder. “Hey, it’s not easy, princesa. I didn’t get it straight away. You’re getting there.” She smiled warmly at you.

“Yeah, I just want to get it right.” You looked down at the coffee mug, letting out a loud sigh. 

——————-

It had been a month since you started working at the coffee shop. On your first day you arrived ten minutes early, you entered the small cosy cafe that you had always passed on your walks, but for some reason had never entered. 

The bell rang above your head, catching your new colleagues' attention. You were greeted by the tattooed Spaniard, the very confident, very beautiful, very cocky Spaniard.

“Hola, you must be the new starter. I’m Mapi.”

Mapi was hot, with a capital H. You drank in her olive skin and tattooed covered arms as she walked toward you. You tried your best to not stare for too long. Though the Spaniard didn't try very hard, her brown eyes scanned your body as soon as you walked through the door. A cheeky smile plastered her face as she stuck her lean arm out for you to hold.

She showed you around, demonstrating the basics of the machines, where the storage cupboard was and where you could find most of the supplies you would need during your shift. She got you to clean for the day, not wanting to overwhelm you on your first day, allowing you to get used to your surroundings. 

You cleaned like she had asked, even cleaning bits that looked like they hadn’t been touched in a while. You weren't able to talk much longer as the shop got busy in its morning rush.

But now and again you got distracted, you had found yourself staring at Mapi throughout the day. Your eyes drifted to her decorated arms as you cleared tables. You watched the way her muscles flexed when making the drink orders for the customers. Or how she stuck her tongue out in concentration as she counted the customers' change. 

The Spaniard had caught you staring plenty of times, but never said anything. She would smirk at you as if she had an idea of what you were looking at, and she would take the opportunity to ask if you were doing okay, or ask if you needed help, smirking to herself as you flustered. 

Of course you tried to make it look like you weren't staring, trying your best to look away before she caught you.  But your eyes would still end up wandering back to her not long after. 

In the quieter hours of the day you found out you had a lot of things in common. Mapi played for a local football team, she played in defence. You explained how you had played before but not since you injured your knee, but you told her you’d love to try again in the future. 

“You are more than welcome to come and try out. Or even come and watch us play.” The Spaniard smiled at you, pure joy on her face. 

“Yeah, definitely. I’d love that.” You smiled at the brunette.

By the end of the shift music started to play through the shop's speakers, Mapi asked what you wanted to listen to. Finding out you had very similar music tastes. 

She closed the shop door behind her, locking it with the keys. She turned to you. 

“Hey, you did well today. I’ll show you more of the coffee making tomorrow, in the quiet times.”

“Thank you. Yeah, that sounds good, I don’t want you to think I’m useless.” You laughed.

“I don’t think you are anything of the kind.” She looked at you with a straight face.

You felt your cheeks warm up, you chuckled gently. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” She smiled at you.

————

It was now a month in, and you were a lot more comfortable, thanks to a certain Spaniard. It was closing time, and as usual Mapi had her music blaring over the speakers. You swept the floors while she emptied the dishwasher.

“Hey, what are you doing tonight? Me and my friends are going to Club 10 if you want to join?” 

The thought of going out clubbing with Mapi was exciting, and you were a little sad that you couldn’t join, only as you had plans.

“I can’t. My girlfriend’s coming to mine for dinner. But thank you for asking. Next time though.” You smiled apologetically at her. 

“Ahh no worries, I’ll ask again.” She winked at you as she started to stack the mugs. 

Since you started working at the coffee shop, Mapi shamelessly flirted with you. She flirted with such ease it never felt serious. She would laugh after a one liner that made your cheeks go bright red, then get on with whatever task she was in the middle of doing. She never made you feel uncomfortable, it never felt gross or too much, she just liked teasing you. 

You knew the Spanish were flirty, touchy people, you had even seen her do it with customers now and again. She was clearly just a naturally flirty person.

However, it didn’t stop your heart from racing every so often, especially if she was giving you a certain look when she did decide to flirt. Or a certain cheeky smile when she was being extra touchy, you would have to take yourself to the bathroom to have a quick breather. You weren't blind, Mapi was beyond sexy, but not only was she your type on paper, she was kind, funny and genuinely seemed to care about what was going on with you. 

But, you never took your feelings further than that, you had a girlfriend, a girlfriend of nine months. Things were going good, you really liked Frankie, she was smart, successful, funny and great in bed. You had even recently said those big three words just over a month ago, she hadn’t said it back but you weren't going to push her. She would say that in her own time. 

————

You plaited up the food you had spent ages cooking, pleasantly surprised at how it came out. 

“Smells good babe, you didn’t put any spicy stuff in it did you?” Frankie asked while scrolling on her phone. 

“No, nothing too spicy. I added some seasoning, but only for flavour.”

You placed Frankie’s food in front of her. 

“Okay, cos I really can’t do spice.”

You sat down across from her and smiled. 

“I know. No spice. I promise.”

Thankfully Frankie deemed it edible enough to eat. Well, it was more the vegetables that she ate. She attempted the chicken that you had added a small amount of flavour to, she had to stop a few times for extra water.

“So when do you think you’ll get a proper job?” Frankie asked as she pushed around the food on her plate. 

You stopped your own fork before it got to your lips. 

“What do you mean?” You frowned.

“Well a waitress isn’t a real job. When do you think you’ll be going back to an office job?”

“Well, I’m not a waitress, it’s a barista role and I’ve only started there and I actually really enjoy it. You know I wasn’t happy at my last job. I needed a break from all that corporate shit.” 

She gave you that look that you hated, it was a look that made you feel stupid, like you had just said the dumbest thing she had ever heard. 

“Well, you can’t do that forever. You’ll have to get back to it at some point.” She drank her water. 

You suddenly lost your appetite, you placed your fork on your plate. You felt that anxious feeling creeping on your skin. 

You had left your project manager role just over six weeks ago, you hated your last job, it had gotten way too stressful. Your manager would make you feel bad for not putting in extra work, and extra work was putting it lightly. He wanted you to do two people’s jobs, and then some. They hadn’t hired enough staff due to people leaving monthly. You wouldn’t have minded too much but they didn’t even pay you for the extra hours you did do.

The job had even started to creep into your personal life. You were too tired to meet your friends as you were working over time and too stressed to not take your mind off work during the weekends as you would get constant emails and calls from clients. 

Your manager had even called you while you were on a pre booked holiday asking you to end it early. And you did leave the holiday early, as you were half threatened that you would lose your job if you didn’t. When you needed a half day for a funeral you were denied straight away, that’s when you knew you were done with the company. 

You gave in your notice the next day and decided to have a small break, you had saved up a bit of money over the years, so financially you were fine. You just wanted to have a two or three month break, to maybe go away or just figure out a new role. Nothing like what you were doing before. 

You had only taken the coffee shop job because Frankie wouldn’t stop talking about you not having a job. It made you feel lazy and insecure, you felt like you kind of had to. So your break was cut short to two weeks. 

“Well, I’m happy there. I don’t think I’ll be looking for anything else any time soon.”

Frankie rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her water.

“Whatever, it’s your life, waste it on what you want.” 

Before you could respond Frankie’s phone began to ring. “I got to take this, you can throw the rest away. It’s too spicy.”

Frankie left the room, her phone pressed to her ear. 

You cleared the table, a lump bubbled in your throat, you felt like shit. You knew Frankie meant well, but she was from a different background. She was from money. Her dad got her role in PR because he knew the owner of the company. She hadn’t worked for the role in any way. And if that didn’t work out he would more than likely get her a role in another firm, like he always did.

————

It was half three, and dead in the coffee shop. You and Mapi were having a debate on what women’s team were likely to win the euros in 2025. 

“Come on, Spain will win, we won the worlds! Why would we not win euros?” 

You loved winding her up about football, she was the only other person that loved it as much as you. 

“Hmm I don’t know. You guys got lucky in my opinion.” 

“Pshhh. You are just hurt because we are the better team.”

“It was luck, just one goal. Nothing to shout about.” You smirked.

Mapi was done with your teasing, she grabbed the jug of milk off the side and flicked the froth right at your face. By the look on her own face she had done more than she meant to, she looked slightly worried until she saw you smile.

You dramatically gasped, wiping some of the mess from your cheeks. You broke out into a playful smile and began to laugh. She smiled instantly at your reaction, laughing at her mistake.

You looked around the counter, trying to find your own weapon, you grabbed the hot chocolate ganache pot, laughing internally as Mapi’s face dropped.

“No, come on. I was kidding. I’m sorry. Please, chica.” Mapi put her arms up in defence. You stepped closer to her, clearly not caring about her protest. She then took a different approach.

“Come on, princesa.” She pleaded.

You couldn't help but feel butterflies at her nickname for you.

“You can’t waste it, you can’t put good chocolate to waste. If you do it, you’ll have to eat it off me” She stepped closer to you, a devilish smirk on her face. The smirk that made your knees buckle, and you had a feeling she knew that. 

You were never one to flirt back, you would normally roll your eyes or batter off whatever hot and heavy sentence the Spaniard would lay on you, but you decided to play her at her own game. The words came out before you could really register what you were saying. 

“Hmm. but I don’t think you could handle my tongue.” 

Mapis' face was a perfect picture of shock. You gave yourself a mental pat on the back for being able to make the girl falter like you did. Before the brunette had a chance to reply the bell on the door chimed, you turned around to greet the customer 

“Frankie? Wha- what are you doing here?” 

Frankie walked towards the counter, a big smile on her face. Until she eyed up Mapi, who was probably standing too close for Frankie’s liking. 

“Well, don’t look too happy to see your girlfriend.” She emphasised the last word. 

“No I am. I just. I wasn’t expecting you.”

Frankie loved when she made you a bit helpless, you could see it on her face, you must have looked like a deer in headlights. 

“Well I was passing by, I wanted to see why you loved it here so much.” She then eyed up Mapi once more. 

“Frankie, this is Mapi. She’s trained me on everything I need to know about coffee and how to make the perfect hot chocolate.” You smiled at Mapi. “Mapi, this is Frankie, my girlfriend.”

Mapi reached her hand out for Frankie. 

“Hola, it’s nice to meet you.” The Spaniard smiled at Frankie. 

Frankie looked Mapi up and down like she didn’t want to touch her hand, but she did, and she did it quickly. You didn’t miss it, and neither did Mapi. 

Frankie laughed. “Is there really much to know? It’s coffee, not rocket science. It’s not that hard.” 

You felt your skin prickle. You hated when Frankie was like this.  

“Actually there is a bit to know about coffee and how it’s made. It can almost be a science lesson.” Mapi laughed at her own joke. 

“Mapis right. There’s a lot to it.” You looked at Frankie, almost pleading with your eyes to stop her rudeness. 

“Hmm, I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree. Are you allowed to have that many tattoos showing while you’re working? Does it not put the customers off?”

You heard Mapi laugh under her breath. 

“I actually get a lot of compliments, especially from the ladies.” Mapi winked at Frankie, she wasn’t going to bite back. 

“Each to their own. I just wouldn’t be allowed to have any tattoos showing like that at my work.” 

You then chimed in. “You don’t even have tattoos and I don’t actually think they would care much at your work, Frankie. It’s not like you're a rocket scientist.” You joked but could tell that pissed Frankie off. 

Mapi laughed, she put her hand on your shoulder. 

“I’m going to count the items in the storage cupboard chica. Was nice to meet you Frankie.” Mapi walked away, leaving you and Frankie alone. 

“That was rude. Why are you being like that?” 

“I was just joking. Listen, I came here to apologise. I was a dick the other night, I don’t want to argue.” Frankie took your hand in hers, giving you the puppy dog eyes that she always used when you argued. 

You smiled, you weren't one to stay mad. You squeezed her hand back, leaning in to give her a quick kiss. 

“Do you want to go for dinner next week? We can go to that place that you like?” Frankie asked. 

“Yes! The Spanish restaurant?” You chimed.

“Yeah, that one.” 

“I’d love that.” You clapped. 

Frankie smiled, you could tell she had more to say. 

“I also have to travel for work tomorrow. We’ve got a new client that the company wants to impress. So I’ll be gone for three nights. I won’t be able to talk to you much.” 

You felt your shoulders drop. “Really? Okay well. I guess you can’t say no. We can FaceTime at night.” You tried to be positive.

“Well, maybe, you would have to text me first. Don’t just spring a FaceTime on me, I might be out with the new clients.” She laughed. 

“Yeah that makes sense.”

“I’ll be back Thursday evening, we can go for dinner on Friday evening.” 

“Okay, I can’t wait.” You said. 

“Anyways I got to go, I’ll see you later tonight?” Frankie smiled.

“Yeah. See you tonight.” 

You leaned back in to give Frankie a quick kiss, but you suddenly felt her grab you by the T shirt, pulling you hard. You yelped as she pushed her tongue deep into your mouth. You pulled back, looking at Frankie in confusion, she never kissed you like that in public, she was always one to hate PDA. You caught her eyes, she was looking at Mapi, who wasn’t paying any attention to the pair of you. 

“What are you doing?” You wiped your mouth, slightly annoyed.

“Nothing. Just wanted to kiss you. I’ll see you later.” Frankie walked out the coffee shop, smirking to herself. 

Mapi came back up to restock the fridge. “Your girlfriend is nice.” She said it with enough sarcasm. 

“Sorry. I don’t know why she acted like that.”

“It's obvious, no?” She smirked as she stalked up to you. “You have to work with a very sexy.” She stepped closer. “Very charming.” Her arms trapped your body against the coffee bar. “Very tattooed, Spanish girl, all day.” 

The brunette had your body caged between hers and the bar. Her face was so close to yours, you could feel her breath on your lips. You couldn't stop your eyes from roaming over her delicate pink lips. Your mind wondered what it would be like to have those same lips on yours, or other places. You felt your pussy spasm at the dirty thoughts flooding your brain.

She whispered.“See bonita, you can’t keep your eyes off of me.” 

Her smirk was devilish. It was like she could read your mind. You felt your cheeks blush from her comment. Her dark eyes roamed your face, it looked like she wanted to kiss you. Suddenly her body was gone. Her laugh brought you back from the daze that was Mapi. She started stocking the fridge, chuckling to herself as if she hadn't just had you hanging on to every word of hers. 

“You are like a baby rabbit, no. Squirrel? Some kind of fuzzy creature.” 

You blew out a chuckle, trying to compose yourself. But you could feel the heat between your legs. You looked over at the clock. How many hours did you have left?

—--------------

“Fuck, just like that.” You were between Frankies legs, eating her out while she pulled hard on your hair. It was the third time in a row that you had gotten her off, not that you minded but you had been horny since work. 

Not for any particular reason. 

But you had been desperate to have some release and the minute you stepped through the door you could tell Frankie needed it to. She had just about said hello when she pulled you into the bedroom, kissing you hard. Her teeth sunk in your bottom lip making you whimper against her mouth. But she only swallowed your cries. She pushed your back against the wall, you winced as you hit the foundation. 

“I need your tongue.” Was all she said before you were being pushed to your knees. She unbuckled her jeans and grabbed your head, forcing your face between her legs. She let out a gasp, her head tilted back as your tongue made connection with her clit. You didn’t mind this kind of sex, you were the more submissive one between the pair of you, and it could get rough and desperate and you knew Frankie liked being in charge. 

She grabbed the back of your head as she fucked your face against the wall. Her hips rolled into your mouth, taking complete charge of your movements. 

“Stick your tongue out.” She demanded. 

You stuck your tongue out for her. She grinded her pussy along your tongue, it was like you was her fuck toy. 

She came quickly, pushing your head against the wall as she used you to get off. After she came, she moved you onto the bed. You thought she wanted to do the same to you, but she made herself comfy on the pillows. You watched as she laid back, opening her legs and pointed between them. 

So you did as she asked, you didn't mind going again, you were a giver, you loved pleasing your partners but the wetness between your legs was ever growing. It took her a lot longer to come this time, as she had literally just came a minute before she had you on your knees again. But eventually after some time she came in your mouth, her hand holding your head down roughly. 

Once she released your hair you sat up. You were desperate for her now. It had been a while since you had sex with Frankie. You knew she was stressed from work, having new important clients on. So sex was off the cards. Well, she would be too tired to do bits to you. So you ended up like this a lot of the time, your face or hands between her legs. You moved up to kiss her, she sucked your tongue into her mouth.

“Again.” She husked out. 

“Again?” You chuckled breathlessly.

“Yeah, I need you babe. You make me feel so good.” She stroked your face lovingly.

“Okay. Are you not too sensitive?”

“No.” She kissed you again and started to push your head down.

“Okay.” You gave her a final kiss before you moved down her body, kissing her stomach on the way down. You licked slowly.

“Fuck.” She pushed your head further in between her legs, rocking herself on your tongue. Once again it took her a while to come, clearly too sensitive. You could feel your cunt throbbing, needing to be touched. 

Your jaw began to ache from how long you had been eating her out. She pulled your hair hard, your eyes closed from the pain, she sometimes didn't realise how rough she was being. You wondered if Mapi was ever this rough. You could feel your underwear becoming uncomfortably wet. Finally, you could tell she was close, she started to grip your head tight, it was painful, but before you could stop her, her hips bucked into your face. You groaned as she pushed you further into her core. It was almost hard to breathe.

“Fuck, suck it. Suck it. Yes, just like that. Such a slut” She gripped at your head, not letting you move an inch as you sucked on her clit. 

Her legs started to shake. You felt her wetness start to enter your mouth. Her thighs clamped your head. She kept you how she wanted you, her hips grinding into your face. You swallowed her juices. As she let out a groan. You tried to move your head away to breathe but she pulled you back.

“I didn't say stop, keep going” 

Your lips wrapped back around her clit. 

“Do it gently. Swallow.” She gripped your neck.

You stayed there like she demanded. Finally she let go.

“So good.” She husked out. 

You lied next to her, catching your breath. “Yeah?” 

She sat up, groaning from the pleasure. “Yeah. I needed that. I'm going to get in the shower.”

“Oh?”

“What?” 

“Nothing, I just.. I thought we could carry on? I wa- I really want you Frankie.” You smiled, hoping she would get the hint.

“I’m tired.”

“Okay. It’s just that, it's been a while since you kind of touched me like that. I just miss you.”

She rolled her eyes already annoyed. “I’m tired.”

“No, I get that. I just wanted t-,” 

“God, can’t you just give me a break. I don’t want to. Don’t try to make me feel bad because I’m tired.” 

This was the third time you had mentioned it. Frankie hadn’t touched you in 6 weeks. You tried to ask her what was wrong. If there was a reason she didn't want to touch you, if it was something she needed to talk about, but everytime she just brushed it off and blamed work. 

You already couldn't be asked to argue. You would just take care of yourself. Again.

“Okay.” You looked away, not able to look at your girlfriend, worried she would see your pain.

“Ergh. I’m going to mine. Thanks for ruining a good moment.” 

“No, Frankie don’t.” You begged. 

“No. You’ve pissed me off.” She quickly put her clothes on and left. Slamming the door behind her.

You flinched from the slam. You felt the tears prick at your eyes. Then the hot tears ran down your cheeks. You felt numb. Frankie had been arguing with you more and more lately. Snapping at you for small things, arguing over nothing. And now she wasn't touching you. You felt ugly, unwanted. 

You definitely didn’t feel horny anymore. You took yourself to the bathroom and had a long hot shower, you had your dinner and scrolled through Netflix to watch a movie. It had become a routine at this point, doing this alone after an argument with Frankie. Half way through you got a text, you ignored the giddy feeling you felt when you saw it was from her. You looked at your phone to see Mapi’s name on your screen, you couldn't stop the stupid smile that appeared on your face. 

It was a picture of her cat dressed up in a cowboy hat. She told you about the purchase she had got for her pet. You didn't believe her, but here it was picture proof. You replied.

Mapi - Picture sent

You - she doesn't look too impressed. 

Mapi - ignore her, she always looks that way. She loves it 

You laughed, shaking your head at the Spaniards' antics. Another text came through.

Mapi - I'm going to the ‘Blue Cherry' tomorrow, wanna come?

You bit your lip in thought. You had no plans tomorrow. Frankie was away, and if it was anything like her trip before you didnt get to speak to her once. So, yeah why not. It had been ages since you had a night out.

You - Yes! I’ll be there 🎉

That stupid goofy smile grew on your face once more. Mapi always had a way of making you smile, or feel special, even something as simple as wanting you to go out with her and her friends. You found yourself looking over her instagram page, again. You smiled as you looked over the now familiar pictures. You scrolled down to the very familiar picture of Mapi sitting on a rock in her bikini. The girl's body was unreal. You felt a little bad that you lingard on the photo, learing at your friend. But you had been so worked up from earlier, your body was basically on the edge of exploding.

Your mind drifted to your memories of today. You could still feel the weight of Mapi’s body pressing against your own. You could see the curve of her pink lips smirking at you, the way she always did when she was messing with you. Her lips had become a common thought in your mind, you had wondered how her lips would feel on your own, or how her tongue would feel if it were to trace down your stomach. Followed by gentle kisses.

And suddenly that hornyness returned. 

Your hand slowly descended down your stomach, your fingertips traced small lines on your exposed skin, just teasing yourself with the thought. Recently you had been doing this more and more.

You slipped your hand down your pj shorts. You weren't shocked at just how wet you already were. You tried to put it down to you pleasuring Frankie, but you knew deep down it wasn't because of that, not right now.

You dipped your finger past your lips and just below your clit, finding your essence already dripping. You gathered the juices on your finger tips and brought it straight to your clit. You let out a small hiss. You were past sensitive. It almost hurt to touch yourself, you weren't sure if it was mental strain or physical. 

You bit your lip at feeling the pleasure of finally having some friction on your bundle of nerves, circling your clit just the way you liked. You couldn't stop the images of today flashing through your mind, you could see Mapi in front of you, you could feel the shape of her body pressing against yours, your fingers picked up the pace. 

You could see her brown eyes looking at you, her lips smirking at you. Your imagination got the better of you when you pictured Mapis' hand in place of your own, touching you, pressing your clit lightly. Her smirk became wider as she felt you becoming wetter. 

“You want me, don’t you?” You imagined her voice.

You nodded. Even an imaginary Mapi knew you wanted her. Your hips started to grind into your own hand. You imagined her fingers touching you, her eyes watching you. You then imagined the girl in front of you, in your home, pulling your pjs shorts down, her brown eyes staring between your legs, licking her lips.

You started to get rougher with your touches, needing Mapi more and more. You imagined her tattooed hand reaching between your thighs, stroking your skin, teasing you as she got closer to your core. You imagined her gentle touch as she finally got to your clit, rubbing tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“You like it, princesa?” Her imaginary voice asked.

You nodded. You could feel your orgasm rising. Mapi invaded your mind, her freckles, her smile, her laugh, the way she smelt, the way she talked, the way her eyes watched you when she thought you weren't looking. She filled your mind with everything that was her, your legs began to shake as her imaginary fingers brought you closer to your orgasm. 

You imagined her lips tracing your neck, sucking gently on your skin. You gasped as you felt your climax start to take over. Your legs began to shake, your back arched off the sofa as you imagined Mapi kissing you while you came. Your hips bucked into your hand at the aftershocks of your orgasm, your breathing slowly returning to a normal pace. 

You laid there, staring at the ceiling, guilt took over for Frankie and Mapi. But before you could think anymore about it a text came through, you looked at your phone to see Mapi replying to your text.

Mapi - Finally!

You let out a loud sigh as your head dropped back on the sofa.

[thewritingrowlet]

The Renewed Slate, ft. Kep1er Chaehyun

tags: anal, rough sex

length: 7k+

author's note: it was quite difficult to get the ball rolling, but here it is.

-

The warm glow of the morning sun fills the bedroom, casting a shadow of the weird position you two are in. Chaehyun is leaning against your body while you’re against the headboard, an open diary still lying in her hands. You didn’t intend to fall asleep this way, but the night-long exploration of shared memories took its toll before you could settle in a proper sleeping position.

You take a deep breath as you collect yourself, your nostrils getting filled with her scent. A loud, unintentional yawn escapes your lips, and the sound makes Chaehyun stir awake. “Oh, sorry, love,” you say, your voice hoarse from the sleep. “Mm, it’s fine,” she mumbles, absentmindedly tracing odd lines on the diary’s cover. “Did you sleep well, by the way?” You chuckle a little, a genuine warmth rising within you. “I think I made the most of this position,” you quip.

Chaehyun turns her head, her gaze meeting yours over her shoulder. “Can we sleep in, love?” The thought of spending more time wrapped in her arms is indeed tempting, but your responsibilities at work demand your presence today. “You can, but I need to go to work,” you say, hoping she will understand. “Work, of course.” She sighs as a flicker of disappointment crosses her face, but she quickly masks it with a smile. “Well, I won’t hold you back too long, then.”

Chaehyun pulls you out of the bed despite wishing for you to stay at home with her. “I’ll steam some frozen dumplings for you,” she says. Usually, frozen food meant that you had no other option, but now that she’s returned, frozen food is actually good. Chaehyun has prepared a box full of plump, meaty dumplings to reheat when needed.

“Sounds great, baby,” you say, your hands taking their favorite spots on her waist, “perhaps the chef would like a kiss first?” She laughs, lightly hitting your chest as her cheeks turn a delicate pink. “Alright, fine—just one kiss, okay?” Chaehyun parts her lips slightly as she closes her eyes, bracing for intimate contact. She gasps quietly when your lips claim hers, losing herself in the gentle heat of the kiss. When the tangle finally breaks, she mutters a quiet thank you. “That’s perfect, love,” she looks up at you with a tender smile, “I’ll get going now.”

In the kitchen, Chaehyun hums to the melody of her own thoughts, moving around the space efficiently to prepare breakfast for you. “Coffee or tea?” she thinks, eyeing the two containers sitting on the shelf before her. Eventually, she reaches for the jar of chamomile tea, her nose picking up the blissful scent as soon as the lid is open. “Mm, yes, definitely tea.”

After arranging the plates and mugs, she takes a seat at the dining table, her eyes glued to the brown bedroom door. She can’t help but bite her lip when you emerge from the bedroom with only a towel around your waist, admiring your good physique as a familiar urge whirls within. As you step closer towards her, she quickly shifts her gaze towards the other direction, because even when you’re not aroused, the clear evidence of your masculinity can’t simply be hidden—if anything, it does not let itself be hidden.

“Y-your breakfast is ready, love,” she says, trying her hardest to not stare at your crotch. Pretending to have missed her mischievous gaze, you take a seat next to her, your knee brushing against hers. “Before I start eating and forget, I just want to say thank you,” you say. You reach to the side towards her hand, rubbing the back of it affectionately while looking into her eyes. “One of my biggest sins in our marriage is how little I appreciated your efforts, and I plan to make it right with you on this… renewed slate, I suppose.”

Chaehyun, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone, can only look back at you, her lips parting slightly in puzzlement. “Okay…?” She scratches her temple, unsure of what else to say. “You’re… welcome, I guess?” You nod slowly, satisfied by her response despite the underlying hesitation behind it. “Right, well, I’ll start eating now.”

She looks at you intently as you dig into the dumplings on your plate, enjoying the sight of you devouring them as if they were the best dumplings of all time. She leans forwards a little, drawn to the genuine excitement for the food that you’re exuding, her hand finding a spot on your bare thigh. “Are they that good?” Your free hand finds its way around her back, hugging her tenderly from the side. “Yes, my dear; they’re that good,” you say, making sure that she knows how appreciated her efforts are. “If it’s okay with you, baby, can you reheat some more, because I want to take some to work?” She nods vehemently, her heart swelling with affection because of your simple request. “Of course, love,” she replies, her tone high in excitement. “In fact, I’ll make more of them while you’re at work. That way, we will always have dumplings in stock.”

-

“We’re going out for lunch, director—want to come along?” Mr. Kim offers, not knowing that you’ve brought your wife’s delectable dumplings to work. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim,” you show him the pink food container that is uniquely yours, “my wife made these dumplings for me, so I’ll have them for lunch.” A smile plays on his lips, hiding his envy behind it. “Well, I hope you enjoy your lunch, sir.”

As you bite into the first one and cause an explosion of flavors in your mouth, your phone rings: it’s your beloved wife checking in on you. “Hi, hello,” you greet her with a full mouth, your voice barely intelligible because of it. “Hi there,” she replies, seemingly excited to catch you eating the food she’s made this morning. “Enjoying your lunch, baby?” You hum in response, unable to say words while you’re busy chewing. “Aw, that’s cute,” the satisfaction is evident in her voice, “well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Call me back after you’re done eating, okay?” You nod to yourself, taking a mental note to get back to her later, and the call ends soon after.

You sink into your chair as you savor the last remnants of this special, delightful lunch. “Oh, Kim Chaehyun…” Her name rings in your mind, secretly wishing you could just hug her tight right here, right now. “Wait, actually,” you’re reminded that she wanted you to call her back, “let’s call her now.”

It takes but a second for her to answer the call, greeting you with a high tone that is thick with excitement. “Hi, baby!” Her high spirits are always infectious, often leaving you with no choice but to feel the same. “Hi, love. Can I just say that I loved, loved, loved those dumplings?” A giggle is heard from the other side, a sign that she’s flattered by your appreciation. “You’re sweet, you know,” she says. “Also, I’ve made a dozen more—all for you, my love.” You swallow a gulp that is stuck in your throat, wishing you could have more now. “That’s wonderful, baby.”

“By the way,” Chaehyun changes the subject. “I’ve read our diaries again. Can we talk about it a bit?” Your eyebrows rise, intrigued by her request to talk about those records from the past. “Sure, what about them, baby?”

“Just how crazy were we when it came to sex?”

Your heart begins pounding in your chest, each beat bumping against your ribs. Thinking about those passionate—sometimes even wild—nights at work feel inappropriate, but you’re not dodging her question. Chaehyun might feel like you’re being dismissive about the past if you avoid answering her. Coming across as being disparaging about the only thing she can use to get a glimpse of her old self is definitely not among the things you want to do to her.

“We… we’ve always been crazy for each other,” you answer, stringing each word carefully. “We’ve done things that some might think are beyond the lines of normalcy.” Chaehyun falls silent, processing your answer as she presumably holds the sex diary in her hands. “Is that so?” she asks, her voice almost disappearing. “Yeah, I mean, these… entries do sound wild—not all of them, but almost.” You nod along, and you can only think about how you have managed to persuade her into committing these naughty, borderline verboten, acts with you time and time again.

“I feel like I owe you some apologies,” you say, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly. “But I always consented, right?” she asks. “Yes, you did,” you answer firmly, not leaving any room for doubt about your moral correctness, even if the sex was often anything but. “I’d like to talk when you get home tonight, if that’s okay,” she inquires, hoping that you’ll give her the time and space for a discussion. “I’ll do my best, love.”

“I’ll see you later then, daddy.”

Hearing that name always makes you hard. You know the underlying meaning it carries, and if the past is anything to go by, tonight will end with you and Chaehyun out of breath and energy.

“Don’t tempt me, please,” you warn her, your words not carrying threat. “Or what?” she taunts. “Will you bend me over the dining table and take my anus like in page 9?” You sigh deeply, gradually losing your grip on the reins of lust. “Kim Chaehyun, please don’t push me,” you warn her again, this time a bit more serious. “Yeah, okay—look, I’ll go now, okay? I love you.” With a click, the call ends, leaving you alone with your growing arousal. “Yeah, I love you too,” you say belatedly, not reaching her ear.

-

Chaehyun stretches around, only getting herself together now after falling asleep on the couch, the sex diary still cradled in her hands. She then checks the time: only around an hour to go before you step through the front door. “I should prepare dinner,” she thinks, fighting the urge to stay seated. Closing the diary and leaving it on the sofa, Chaehyun makes her way to the kitchen, ready to whip up a quick meal for dinner.

The sex diary is now replaced with the recipe book, and her choice lands on the beef teriyaki recipe. Her finger taps on the little sticky note that says, “No onion, please,” and she chuckles to herself. “Someone doesn’t like onion, huh?” After grabbing the necessary ingredients and organizing them on the counter, she begins cooking, her skills from the olden days resurfacing with every recipe she’s trying out.

The cooking has gone rather swiftly and smoothly, and she’s managed to finish it before you arrive. As soon as Chaehyun settles on the couch again, beeps are heard from the front door, a sign that someone is about to emerge from the other side. “Has to be him,” she thinks. She maintains a smile as she waits for the door to swing open, and her smile only widens when you step inside the house.

“Hi there,” she waves at you with a smile, her forehead shiny with sweat she’s gotten from cooking, “you arrive just in time; I just finished making dinner.” You place your backpack in its usual spot on the shelf by the door, a gesture of leaving work at the front door and not letting it cloud the tender domesticity in this house.

“Thank you for cooking, baby,” you say, peppering her face with kisses, thus getting a bit of her sweat on your lips. “Are we eating now, or?” You eye the closed diary on the couch, hoping that she’s willing to postpone the scheduled discussion until you have some food in your belly. “Yeah, let’s eat now while everything is hot like me.” Your eyes blink rapidly, caught off guard by her last few words. “Hot like me, hey?” you repeat, and you’re met with her cheeks that are turning light pink.

You let Chaehyun lead you towards the dining table, and when she’s close enough to it, you bend her over, her covered breasts pressed against the wooden surface. “Page 9,” you say. “If I remember correctly, I took you just like this in that entry.” Chaehyun laughs softly, the sound vibrating through you. “Are we jumping straight into the deep end?” she asks, feeling the surge of arousal in the air. Your peck that lands on her nape sends a shiver down her spine. “No, not yet,” you whisper. “We’ll have the time for that.”

With a hand on her shoulder, you help her get back up, silently making a promise to indulge in some heated sexual encounter for the sake of reminiscing. “Can you prepare the food, please? I’ll join you after this.” Chaehyun nods without saying anything, her heart still racing at the thought of getting taken roughly over the table as the diary portrays. “Great, I’ll be right back.”

Chaehyun swiftly arranges the table, moving with a purposeful rush as if trying to finish dinner as quickly as possible, and you come out of the bathroom just as she’s filling some mugs with water. She puts the glass jug on the table and looks at you with a small smile and pink cheeks. “Dinner is ready,” she gestures at the set table, the big bowl of beef teriyaki serving as a center piece.

Chaehyun can only look at you as you step towards her, and your towering presence causes her to swallow a gulp. “I-I said dinner is ready, m-my love,” she stammers, unsure of your intentions. “Oh, I heard you the first time, baby,” you whisper, your breath hot against her face. “It’s just that I crave for a bit of… appetizer.” Once again, she swallows the gulp that is stuck in her throat.

“What appetizer—mph!”

Before she can complete her sentence, your lips claim hers in a searing kiss, and in a moment of submission, she presses her curves against your firm torso, melting into the mind-consuming contact. Eventually, after having tasted enough of her lips, you slowly pull away.

“Oh my God, you…” she trails off, not bothering to finish her words.

While it’s true that she’s been back for a few months, this level of fiery passion still feels rather unfamiliar to her—she’s trying her best to get up to speed, nonetheless.

“I what, baby?” Chaehyun looks at you with a steady gaze, but her chest is anything but; her heart that is pounding within has her chest rising and falling in quick succession. “I… I can’t keep up with you,” she says in a tiny voice. You ask, “Too fast?” and she nods slowly in response. “I’m sorry, love—look, let’s have dinner first, and then we can think about how we want to continue.”

Usually, you sit across the table, but tonight, you opt to sit next to her, and your arm instinctively takes a spot on her lower back, showing possessiveness even when there’s no crowd. “Dinner,” she points at the dish on the table while looking at you, “c-can we start eating now?” You give her a peck on the temple, the more tender touch soothing her nerves. “Of course, baby. Actually, if you want to, I can give you some space to eat, and I’ll eat after you.” Chaehyun takes a few deep breaths, finishing the job of calming herself down, and shakes her head after. “No, that is against the point of me cooking for you,” she says, her resolve strengthening again.

As the two of you start eating, the initial tension begins to dissipate, and in its place blooms a sense of comfortable domestic intimacy. You savor each bite of the teriyaki, offering genuine praises for her cooking that are punctuated by soft smiles and touches. She reciprocates these praises with smiles of her own that are twice as sweet.

-

A new habit that the two of you have picked up is sharing dish washing duties; Chaehyun washes them, and you wipe them dry. Tonight is a bit different, though: you’re the one getting wet while Chaehyun stays dry.

“So, erm,” she attempts to start a conversation. “When can we talk about them?” You glance at her, pretending to not know what she’s getting at. “Talk about what, baby?” you ask. She sighs, her spirits slipping away at your less enthusiastic response. “Please, don’t do that to me; those diaries are the only things that can help me learn my past.”

Taken aback by the sudden change  in tone, you freeze momentarily, letting the water run into waste. “Can I not learn about my past? Do you not want me to?” Chaehyun presses further. Having regained composure, you quickly turn off the tap and dry your hands. “Baby, that’s not what I meant…” You cup her soft cheek, stroking it gently with your thumb. “You want to talk about the diaries, yeah? Let’s settle in bed and talk about them, then.” She nods, rubbing her cheek against your hand, as a small smile plays on her lips. “I’ll wait for you in the bedroom, then.”

When you enter the bedroom, Chaehyun is waiting for you, leaning against the headboard with some diaries on her lap. She extends a hand, inviting you to join her in the soft mattress, adding to the irresistible draw of the already alluring atmosphere of the dimly lit bedroom. When your hand touches hers, fingers tangling together, a bigger smile spreads across her face, her eyes filled with hopefulness and anticipation of taking a trip to the past.

You lean against the headboard beside her, pulling her closer to you as she picks up the first diary she wants to address. “I saw some more names,” she begins, her voice a bit hesitant, “and I want you to tell me who they are, okay?” You nod, preparing yourself to be as honest as needed, committing to not hiding anything from her. “Read the names, baby, and I’ll tell you.”

“Kim Jiyoon,” she starts.

“Your friend from college. Stole a potential boyfriend from you.”

Chaehyun sighs, not expecting things to take such a drastic turn so soon. “Off to a great start,” she says, sarcasm thick in her voice. “No further questions—let’s move on to another name,” you urge her, not wanting to let her slip into sourness.

Chaehyun flips the page and finds another name. “Next one: Choi Jiwon.”

“A former employee at our company. Quit to get married to a guy who also worked for us. As far as I know, they already have a child—a son, I think.”

Her expression softens at this better revelation, a fond smile tugging at her lips. “That’s cute,” she says, her finger tracing small circles over Jiwon’s name on the diary. “I assume one of them had to quit because of company policy?” You sigh at the cold reminder of losing such a valuable employee to an outdated rule. “We’ve changed the policy, though,” you say. “Such a rule still exists, but it’s less… constraining, I suppose.” She nods, seemingly in approval of the change. “That sounds good, love,” she adds.

“Anyway, next one: Kim Chaewon.”

Your smile disappears promptly at the mentioned name, one that you used to say with a lot of love and care; one that took so much to forget. “Kim Chaewon…” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper. “What about that person, hm?” she presses on. You sigh, silently wishing she hadn’t found this name. You’re still committed to telling the truth, though.

“Kim Chaewon wanted me to give her 50 grams of gold as a dower,” you say, plain and truthful. Chaehyun’s eyebrows rise as she turns in your arms, looking at you with curious eyes. “O…kay? And what did you give me?” she asks. “Well, 50 grams of gold,” you say again. She scratches her head, befuddled by the spin that the story is taking. “I don’t understand, honestly.”

“Look, baby,” you start over from the top. “Chaewon made it very clear that it was 50 grams of gold or no marriage, and I knew it wasn’t just her wish, but also her parents. Something about testing my resolve and commitment to the relationship with wealth.” Chaehyun nods slowly, gradually getting a grip on the story. “Okay, so?” she asks, curiosity getting the better of her. “So, I said no, because it felt like it was her price tag so I could take her hand in marriage, and I didn’t want any of that.”

You lean back against the headboard, your arm loosening its hold on Chaehyun. “It wasn’t easy,” you mutter, your mind going back to the day you severed your ties with Chaewon—what an eventful day that was. “I cared for Chaewon, but I wasn’t going to compromise my principles just so I could get married.” You pause, your gaze meeting Chaehyun’s, your hand reaching for hers. “But then I met you,” you whisper, “and all those pain and regret just melted away, and I was more than happy to give you 50 grams of gold, because you deserved every gram of it.”

Chaehyun’s fingers tighten around yours, an adoring smile spreading across her features. “I’m glad you found your way to me,” she says, her voice thick with affection. “So am I, baby,” you press a tender kiss to her knuckle, “I’m beyond grateful to have you by my side for all these years.”

The diary closes with a subtle thud as Chaehyun leans closer against your side. “Oh, are we done, baby?” you ask, secretly relieved that she’s closed the book. “With that one, yes, but we’ll look at the sex diary after this.” You chuckle, realizing that you’re not out of the woods just yet. “Okay, I’m game for whatever you want to do, baby.”

The first diary soon loses its place in Chaehyun’s hands to the sex diary, one that is filled with another type of history. The entries of this diary are shorter, more focused on the specific encounters of each entry, and the language is often raw and unpolished.

As she opens the cover, the room’s temperature seems to start rising at the expectation of reliving into the sensual entries of this particular diary. A blush creeps up to her cheeks at the sight of the first page: a depiction of being taken from behind while standing up in front of a mirror. “Oh my…” she mutters. “You know, I’ve read this page so many times, and I blushed every single time,” she adds. Naughty as you are, you nibble her exposed earlobe teasingly. “Did you perhaps get wet too, baby?” Chaehyun exhales deeply, trying her best in maintaining her resolve. “Y-yes, I did,” she admits.

Chaehyun gently pushes her elbow against you, signaling her need to have some space for herself. “T-there are some… positions that I want to talk about,” she says, the blush on her cheeks still not disappearing. “Sure, baby.”

Chaehyun flips the dairy to the twenty-sixth page, titled “The Butterfly.” The page has a little sticky note stuck on the edge, serving as a marker.

“This one,” she places a finger on the title, “this entry sounds very naughty, love.” You chuckle, your mind going back to the night you first did this position with Chaehyun. “Does it, baby? Well, what if I told you that you were the one who came up with the name?” She shakes her head, amused by the creativity of her past self. “Anyway, can you, like, show me how we’re supposed to do this?” she asks. “Oh, I can—please, stand up.”

You guide her to stand in front of the mirror, taking a position behind her yourself. “Here, baby,” you then guide her to wrap one arm around your neck, facing away from you. “A-are you going to lift me like the diary says?” You nod, a fond smile playing on your lips. “On three, baby—one, two, three.” You lift her into the air, supporting her with your hands that are planted on the insides of her thighs.

“Here we have it, baby. The Butterfly,” you say, meeting her gaze through the mirror. Her cheeks turn red hot as she scans the sight of the reflection, taking in every detail of it. “S-so, you just… take me from behind while I’m in the air?” You give her a peck on the nape, praising her for quickly catching on. “Precisely, baby—from here, I can either put it in the front or the rear, depending on our agreement.” Chaehyun nods slowly, her mind imagining how it would be if you were to take her in this position right here, right now. “I think… I think I want to do this soon.”

“Soon, hey?” you echo, your low voice seductive. “Like, tonight soon, or…?” Chaehyun’s eyes sparkle, a mix of excitement and shyness swirling in them. “Maybe…” she whispers. “But… can we talk about this first, because I think doing it like this requires everything each of us has?” You nod, agreeing with her assessment. “It does, but usually, all I need from you is your moans,” you say, adding a little teasing remark for extra seduction point.

The heat in your voice, the temptation lying beneath it, and the suggestive smile on your lips are enough to ignite a flame of desire within Chaehyun. “My moans, huh?” she repeats, gradually surrendering to the lure of raw, unrestrained desire. “I’m a simple man, baby,” you say. “Besides, your moans sound like music to me.” She nods with firm resolve. “Alright, let’s do it, then.”

You carefully lower her onto the floor, giving both of you the chance to undress. Chaehyun takes off everything rather swiftly, kicking the discarded clothes to the side after she’s completely bare before you. She then takes a few steps, closing the gap between bodies, and reaches for your half-erect member, stroking it to hardness.

She looks up at you with a smile that’s more cute than sexy, more pure than seductive. “Whatever we do tonight,” she begins, her hand running along your length, “I want to emphasize on our love for each other than a simple man-in-woman encounter.” You plant a soft, fleeting kiss on her lips, making a promise to make this more than a physical connection. “Of course, sweetheart. After all, we did all those positions out of love, not mere lust.”

Satisfied with how hard you are, she turns around, facing the mirror once more. “I’m ready,” she says, no hesitation in her voice. You cradle her right hand against your nape as you lift her, your hands firm beneath the soft curve of her parted thighs, suspending her weight in the air. “Vaginal or anal, baby?” you ask, making sure both of you are on the same page. “Vaginal for now, please.”

“Okay, here I go, baby.”

You feel Chaehyun's muscles tense and then relax as you fill her, her soft moan a confirmation of your connection. The mirror reflects the intimate dance of your bodies, your movements synchronized, your breaths mingling in the air. You deepen the kiss on her nape, your hands still fixed on the soft flesh of her thighs, guiding her rhythm. The sensation of her heat around you is intoxicating, driving you to explore the boundaries of pleasure.

The pace quickens, your thrusts becoming more insistent, each movement a testament to the raw desire that consumes you. Chaehyun's moans intensify, her head falling back as she surrenders to the sensations. The world narrows down to the feel of her skin, the sound of her breath, the primal rhythm of your bodies entwined.

A surge of pure sensation washes over you both as you reach the finish line. You feel Chaehyun's body tighten around you, her moans reaching a fever pitch. You whisper her name, your voice thick with passion, and she cries out in release, her body shuddering in ecstasy. You hold her firmly, supporting her weight as the waves of pleasure subside, the shared climax a powerful apex of intimacy.

You slowly remove yourself from her heat, letting your excess seed drip onto the floor in waste. With cautious and precise move, you carefully lower her onto her feet, your hands planted on her hips to keep her steady. “You’re alright, baby. You’re so amazing,” you whisper, calming her down and praising her simultaneously.

Seeking comfort and safety, Chaehyun leans back against you, her chest heaving at every deep breath. “You… you’re insane…” she says, signs of exhaustion drawn all over her features. “H-how… how did you do that?” You chuckle, pressing a tender peck to the back of her head. “I don’t know; I just did what I thought would be best, and boy was it the best thing we’ve ever done.” Chaehyun weakly smacks your hand that is resting on her belly. “Next time, you should prepare me more,” she adds. You grin, catching the hint of a chance for a second try. “Sure, baby. Next time.”

Instead of lingering too long in the afterglow, you gently guide her back to bed. You pull the cover over her, wrapping her drained body under the soft material. “I’ll get you some water, baby, okay?” She nods, so you fetch a glass of water and bring it back to her. You caress her head softly as she takes small sips, her eyelids too heavy to keep open. The intensity from The Butterfly has completely disappeared, replaced by a relaxed, soothing tenderness, a reminder that this relationship is built on much, much more than sex—it’s built on the love and care you have for each other.

-

Chaehyun stirs in the middle of the night after having fallen asleep a few hours prior out of exhaustion. “Hi, sweetheart,” you greet her, your tone gentle. “Are you okay?” She nods, her cheeks rubbing against the pillow. “Just a bit sore—wait, why aren’t you asleep?” she asks. You put your tablet to the side, cradling her in your arms. “I just thought I could read some reports while you rested, baby.” She pouts, more playful than annoyed. “You wrecked me and read a report after that? You’re out of your mind, husband,” she continues.

A wave of tenderness washes over you as you hold Chaehyun close. “I didn’t wreck you, sweetie,” you protest, your voice laced with anything but irritation. “You said you wanted to relive some of the entries in the sex diary, so I granted your wish.” She hides her face in your chest, pressing her face against the firm muscles. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’ve made me so sore,” she argues.

As you stay in this warm cuddle with her, a memory from a few months ago resurfaces. “Chaehyun, baby,” you call to her, “didn’t you say you wanted to try doing page 5?” Chaehyun’s forehead furrows, trying to remember if she indeed said it. “Did I? What’s on page 5 anyway?” You shrug, not particularly attentive to the content of said page. “We’ll have to check.”

Chaehyun pulls away from the embrace, quipping, “Curiosity kills the cat, and I’m a very curious cat.” She reaches for the diary once more, quickly navigating to the referred page. She chuckles a little as she reads the entry, shaking her head in amusement. “It’s me sitting on a stool while getting fucked from behind,” she reveals, “God, we’re so… so… oh, what’s the word, naughty?”

While Chaehyun is still stuck reading the entry, you watch her with a smile on your face. It’s both relieving and arousing to see Chaehyun so eager to explore her own sexuality, to embrace the naughty—her word, not yours—things you’ve done together. Eventually, with a sigh, Chaehyun closes the diary and returns it to the bedside table.

“We can do that soon. Besides, I think I want to practice anal sex again.” Your eyebrows rise in surprise, not expecting her to bring up anal sex this soon. “Anal? Really?” Chaehyun chuckles. “I mean, sitting on a stool and sticking my butt out—that’s the perfect position for you to take my ass, no?”

There’s a handful of things that haven’t changed from Chaehyun, and this is one of them: she still doesn’t mince her words.

“I suppose so,” you answer. “You know what, why don’t we talk about it next time—you know, when our heads are… clearer, I guess?” Chaehyun smiles as she returns to her previous position in your arms. “Sure, let’s talk about it. After all, we’re doing all these things out of love and not simple lust, aren’t we?” You peck her on the lips, praising her for her understanding of the significance of this connection between the two of you. “Yes, my love; we are doing these things out of love,” you echo, confirming the mutual understanding between you and her.

-

You stir to the feel of Chaehyun's fingers tracing patterns on your chest. Her touch is light and lingering, a sensual reminder of the passion you shared last night. You open your eyes to find her looking right back at you, her expressions a mixture of affection and desire. "Good morning," she murmurs, her voice husky. "I was just thinking about... last night." A wave of heat washes over you as you recall the intensity of your connection. The weekend morning feels heavy with unspoken desires, a promise of further exploration hanging in the air.

You trace odd lines along her spine, the memory of the smooth skin of her back pressed against your torso still vivid in your head. “Good morning, beautiful,” you whisper, your voice as husky as hers. “What are you thinking about, baby?” Her hand slides along your stomach, its final destination unquestionable. “Are we perhaps going to try that anal-on-a-stool position today?” she asks.

A slow grin spreads across your face as the promise from last night resurfaces. “I think we can give it a try,” you say, keeping a straight face, pretending to be nonchalant. Chaehyun smirks, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “You could sound a bit more excited, you know,” she counters, seeing right past your façade. “I mean, think about it; the way you’d be positioned… the access it would provide…” Chaehyun trails off, letting the words hang in the air for you to fill in the blanks with your own imagination.

“Before I let myself run wild, let me ask you this, baby: do you consent to doing anal sex?” you ask, digging deep within yourself to find some clarity of mind amidst the growing sexual tension. Chaehyun smiles, her heart swelling with affection, touched and satisfied by your sense of responsibility in making sure she’s on board. “Of course, love. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have offered you my anus,” she assures you, making clear of her stance.

You walk to the kitchen together, fingers intertwined. You help her onto a stool near the kitchen counter, having her sit in a proper position for now. “The original stool broke a few years ago, and this is what we have now,” you say. Chaehyun looks at you and herself, making estimations about the height situation. “I don’t think this is high enough,” she says. You chuckle, amused by her judgement. “Don’t worry, baby; I can just bend my knees,” you assure her, determined to make the most of what you have.

Maintaining eye contact with you over her shoulder, she shifts to let her butt hang off the edge. “Yes, baby?” you ask, your hands already finding their resting place on her hips. “Can we test if this angle is comfortable for us?” You nod at her question, and you guide your manhood by hand towards her rear, bending your knees as necessary. “This is manageable, I think,” you offer your estimation.

Chaehyun turns around to face you, cupping your face with her soft hands, her thumb stroking your cheek affectionately. “I’ll be honest with you, love, I’m actually quite nervous about this,” she admits, being as genuine as can be. “Can we… can we, like, set boundaries or something?”

You nod solemnly, understanding the apprehension from her side. After all, she hasn’t been penetrated in that hole for so long at this point. “Of course. What boundaries? Safe words?” Chaehyun looks deep into your eyes as she carefully thinks about a way to balance safety and pleasure. “I think safe words can work,” she says. “Did we have safe words back then?” “We did, baby. Yours was pine—short for porcupine.” Chaehyun cracks a small laugh at the explanation. “So, I would just scream pine if I wanted to stop?” You nod, and she starts shaking her head, both amused and relieved by the agreement you once shared. “Yeah, okay, that sounds great.”

Chaehyun turns around again, resting her elbows on the counter. “Oh, we’ve come to an agreement, haven’t we?” you ask, pointing out her perceived readiness, a surge of anticipation warming your blood and stiffening your member. “Should I go grab some lube, just to make it easier?” Her expression becomes thoughtful. “Do we… really need it?” She glances at you over her shoulder again. “Can we try doing it without lube first? Please?” You fall silent momentarily, weighing the option to go in her anus raw and dry. “Alright, let’s give it a try,” you eventually relent. “Let’s try using spit, okay?”

You spit onto your hand and coat your erect manhood repeatedly with your own saliva. “Excuse me, baby,” you say as you apply some saliva on her tight pucker, and Chaehyun arches her back in reflex, a shiver running down her spine. “No going back now,” she thinks. “There, nice and somewhat wet. I hope that’s enough.”

Chaehyun inhales sharply when your tip touches her tight forbidden entrance, but she quickly tries to relax. “Slowly, please,” she whispers as her muscles start to part to make way for your invading member. She takes deep breaths to steady herself as more of your cock enters her, the burn of the stretch nearly unbearable. Eventually, when the entirety of your cock is fully seated inside her tight ass, she… moans.

“Does this hurt, baby?” you ask her, your fingers running along her spine. She takes a few more deep breaths, getting used to the intrusion in her most private part. “Kind of, but nothing… nothing I can’t take,” she answers, shifting her butt around to fully feel the way your cock is parting her anal muscles.

“God, this is… this is…” she trails off, unable to find the words to describe the sensations. “Can you start moving a little, please?”

You slowly retreat, only leaving the first few centimeters of your cock inside her, before pushing forwards once more, savoring the tightness of her stretched muscles as centimeter after centimeter gets swallowed by her ass.

“Oh, fuck…” you mutter, losing yourself in the heat of the moment. You look down at the intimate connection; this looks like it hurts so bad. “Baby, you okay? Want to stop?” She shakes her head to your question, her will to see this through still standing strong. “Can I try moving faster?” This time, she nods, giving you the green light to take her. “Alright, let’s do this, baby.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Give me your hands,” you demand, holding onto her hands like they were some reins. “Let’s do it like we did the first time around.” You deepen your thrusts, your rhythm becoming more primal, more demanding. Chaehyun's moans escalate, her body tightening around you. As you take on this wild pace, the stool begins to wobble, adding an element of precariousness to the encounter, heightening the thrill. She can only stay bent like this, left with no other choice but to take the punishing thrusts that short her brain every single time.

Soon, you stop your pumps to catch your breath, and Chaehyun, with her chest bumping with heavy breaths, looks at you over her shoulder. “D-daddy?” she calls to you, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, baby?” you answer, your tone gentle despite your ragged pants, letting go of her hands which you have been holding for so long. “W-why… why stop?” You bend forwards just enough to land a peck on the back of her head. “Just giving both of us some… some time to breathe,” you reason, your voice getting breathy. “We’ll start again after this.”

A few minutes have passed. Your breathing has somewhat returned to normal, and Chaehyun seems to have recovered as well. “Chaehyun, baby,” you call to her. “Ready to go again?” She nods, returning to her previous position of bending over the counter, offering her hands to be held again. “Actually, can we do something else?” you ask. She glances at you, asking herself what something else means. “What is it?”

“Let’s head to the sofa, baby. I’ll show you.”

You guide Chaehyun, whose anus is getting very sore, towards the sofa, each step heavy but careful. “Kneel on the floor and bend over the sofa, baby,” you direct her, and Chaehyun follows without asking twice. “Alright, that’s perfect.” You spit on her ass a few more times for good luck, and you lodge your cock into her pucker once more for the final stretch.

Her asshole offers far less resistance now that you’ve gaped it, thus letting you slide in with less difficulty than before, but that doesn’t take anything from her; she’s still very, very tight back there. “By the way,” you just remember something, “can I finish inside?” She nods. “Sure.” You give her another peck, this time on the center of her back. “Thank you, baby.”

You start off slow once more, but that’s not for long, as you’re quick to return to the previous pace when you were in the kitchen, your hips crashing into hers while your cock hits the deepest points of her asshole. “Fuck, I’ve missed this, baby—I’ve missed taking your ass,” you blurt, letting your longing for anal sex be known to her.

Having teetered on the precipice of orgasm for too long, your cock sends signals, telling you that your orgasm is very near and approaching rapidly. “I’m going to fill your ass, baby,” you say to Chaehyun, who has lost herself in this all-consuming anal sex.

With one last pump, you stick your cock balls deep, a wave of pure ecstasy flooding your head, her clenching muscles adding more to the bliss, and Chaehyun screams as your hot semen fills her anal cavity to overflowing.

As you ride the high of your orgasm, splashing sounds are heard. “Baby? Are you squirting?” She nods weakly as stray strands of hair get stuck to her face. “Y-yes, daddy,” she admits with no shyness in her voice, only remnants of pleasure from the unbridled encounter. “Ngh!” Chaehyun grunts as more and more of her juice flows out in abundance, drenching the carpet of the living room. “You know, it almost feels like your body remembers some of these things,” you offer her an observation. “I… I guess it does.”

You slowly withdraw, letting your excess seed spill onto the carpet. With cautious and precise movements, you help her climb onto the sofa, lying her square on her back. “You’re alright, baby. You’re so amazing,” you whisper, calming her down and praising her at once. Seeking comfort, Chaehyun opens her arms, inviting you to take your rightful spot in her embrace.

“How… how did you do that?” You chuckle at her question, pressing a tender kiss on her lips. “I just did what my old self would do, baby,” you answer her. “Were you in pain, by the way? Do you want to never do this again?” At first, she doesn’t answer, but eventually, she says, “I mean, you were very deep in my anus.” You nod as a surge of guilt stirs within. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Look, I promise we’ll prepare ourselves better next time, if there is a next time.”

She takes her turn to peck you on the lips.

“There is a next time, yes. After all, I want to remember the bliss of anal sex, daddy.”

You grin, already looking forward to the next time you gape her ass again.

“That’s my good slut,” you whisper, letting the degrading term slip out.

“Yeah, I’m your good slut.”

[ageingfangirl2]

Imagine Being Bonten's Receptionist (Bonten x F Reader) - Tokyo Revengers

PART 8: NEW MEMBER OF THE FAMILY

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE

You’re back at your desk. Brighter. Still quiet, but not in that hollow way anymore. Your favourite mug is full. You even begin humming again. The guys haven’t said anything about that night, and you haven’t asked. But something has shifted. Kakucho brings your coffee every morning now without saying a word. Ran asks you dumb questions just to hear you laugh. Koko upgraded the building’s security and your door lock. And Sanzu, well, Sanzu's been behaving… suspiciously well.

Then one afternoon, you hear a soft knock on the reception counter. You look up from the computer and blink, there’s a tiny black carrier sitting on the ledge. Inside, a kitten. Fluffy, wide-eyed, silver-grey fur with darker paws, peering out like it already owns the place.

Rindou’s the one standing there. He had his hands in his pockets. Shrugging like this wasn’t a huge deal, ‘It’s a rescue,’ he mumbles, ‘kinda grumpy. Scratched Ran. Already house-trained. Good with plants. They said her last owner bailed.’

You blink at the kitten. The kitten meows, soft and insistent, ‘…What’s her name?’

Ran appears from behind the divider, rubbing a scratched hand, ‘they named her Bonten,’ he smirks, ‘thought it was fate.’

You stare, and then you laugh. A real one — bubbling out of you like it’s been trapped for weeks, ‘Bonten?’ you echo, leaning closer.

The kitten bumps its nose to the mesh.

‘You little monster,’ she whispers, unlocking the crate.

The kitten crawls into her lap immediately. Like it belongs there. And maybe it does.

The rest of the boys pretend they’re too cool to care. Sanzu loudly declares he hates cats, then leaves a toy mouse on her desk the next day. Takeomi says, ‘Animals are a distraction,’ then shows you how to make homemade chicken treats. Mikey says nothing, but pets Bonten the kitten whenever he walks past, gaze softening for just a second.

You don’t cry anymore, you just scratch under the kitten’s chin and say softly, ‘You're gonna be safe here, okay?’

And maybe you're not just talking to the cat. You just couldn’t imagine the chaos this little fluffy bundle of joy was going to bring to the office in the coming days.

It’s a typical morning in the Bonten office: chaos, paperwork, and the hum of the air conditioning.

The tiny ball of fluff has somehow managed to claim Sanzu’s chair as her new territory. She’s sitting there smugly, tail flicking lazily, while Sanzu stands with his arms crossed, clearly at war.

‘That’s my chair,’ Sanzu growls, trying to act like he’s above this.

The kitten stares at him.

He takes a step forward. She blinks, ‘Move, little monster,’ he demands, but the kitten just meows — loud, high-pitched, almost like she’s mocking him.

Sanzu gasps, ‘You’re seriously not gonna—?’

Without warning, she launches herself at his face, claws out. Sanzu stumbles backwards, barely managing to dodge the kitten’s attack.

‘The hell!?’ he shouts

Ran is leaning casually against the doorframe, a smirk on his face as he watches Sanzu struggle, ‘Maybe she doesn’t like your attitude.’

Rindou chuckles from behind him, barely holding it together, ‘The poor thing is just trying to claim her spot. Why don’t you let her?’

Sanzu glares at both of them but finds himself unable to stop a reluctant grin. ‘Fine, she wins. But this is my chair.’

He turns to walk off, but the kitten jumps down with a whisk of fur and follows him. The guys watch as she trots after him, a new tiny shadow under his feet.

Mikey doesn’t do soft. Not in the traditional sense. His gaze is always sharp. His presence is commanding. But when it comes to Bonten, the kitten… there’s an entirely different side of him.

The office is eerily quiet. Everyone’s busy with paperwork, but there's one thing they all notice: Mikey has the kitten curled up on his chest, her little head resting peacefully against his neck, purring softly.

Sanzu raises an eyebrow, casually leaning against the desk, ‘What are you doing?’

Mikey looks up, his usual smug grin replaced with something far more relaxed, ‘Nothing. Just letting her nap.’

Ran snickers from the doorway, ‘Since when did you become a cat person?’

Mikey shrugs, but it’s a far too relaxed motion. He scratches under the kitten’s chin, and her tiny paws flex in contentment, ‘She’s just peaceful,’ Mikey murmurs, more to himself than anyone else.

The guys exchange knowing looks, but no one says anything. Mikey wouldn’t appreciate anyone teasing him about his soft spot for the kitten, so they stay quiet.

Koko rolls his eyes from across the room, ‘That damn kitten’s got us all wrapped around her paw.’

And Mikey doesn’t even deny it.

Takeomi, usually the cold, pragmatic one, has a new hobby. And no one can say they’re not surprised when it involves cat treats.

One day, he’s in the office kitchen, the sound of clinking pans filling the air. Koko walks in, eyes narrowing when he sees Takeomi carefully measuring ingredients, ‘What are you doing?’

Takeomi glances up with a smirk, ‘Making something for Bonten.’

‘You mean the cat?’ Koko looks horrified, ‘Are you baking for a cat?’

Takeomi shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s a small smile playing on his lips. ‘She’s good for morale. And the kitten likes homemade treats.’

There’s a long silence before Koko cocks his head, ‘You know what? At least it’s not murder. You’ll be a decent dad one day, I think.’

Takeomi glares, ‘Shut up.’

But his little soft spot is out in the open now.

It’s the end of the day. Everyone is wrapping up. And there’s a rare moment of peace in the office. You’re at your desk, Bonten the kitten curled up in your lap, purring happily. The office is emptying. Then Mikey, ever the unpredictable one, stops by.

‘You know, it’s weird,’ Mikey says, looking at the kitten, then you, ‘You’ve got everyone in the palm of your hand, don’t you?’

You look at him with a knowing smile, rubbing the kitten’s ears as you shift the papers on her desk, ‘They all act tough, but they’re soft on the inside.’

‘Hm,’ Mikey smirks, ‘Well, guess that means you’ve got Bonten in the palm of your hand now.’

The kitten looks up at you, gives a single soft meow, and yawns — and that’s enough for you and Mikey to fall silent. The kitten has them all wrapped around her tiny, fuzzy paw. And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sanzu occasionally steals her chair. Takeomi secretly brings her treats every day. Koko sets up a tracking system for her favourite toys. Mikey naps with her on his chest. Ran gives her extra treats when no one’s looking. Rindou spoils her with the best catnip. And Kakucho? Well, he makes sure no one ever gets near her without permission. Bonten’s a family. And this little ball of fur is their newest — and most chaotic — member.