#not enough hours in the day or days in the week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jaystardust · 2 days ago

Text

KISS, KISS, KISS LOVE ME NOW - J A Y

Genre : neighbor!jay, nurse!reader, jay is in a fightclub, strangers to lovers

Warnings : blood, angst, suggestive

Summary : when your new neighbor with strange behavior and a cold attitude is lying all bloody on the staircase, you have no other choice but to help him. And fortunately for him, you know how to do stitches…

wc : 7k

——

Night shifts were far from your favorite, but there was no avoiding them—they came with the territory. Tonight had been particularly grueling, and as you made your way to your locker to gather your belongings, all you could think about was the hot bubble bath waiting for you at home. The thought of sinking into warm, soothing water, letting it ease the tension from your muscles, was the only thing keeping you upright. You could already imagine the soft embrace of your fluffy pajamas and the cool, crisp sheets of your bed cocooning you in much-needed rest. The late hour no longer mattered; all you wanted was to unwind.

Most nights at the hospital followed the usual rhythm—routine patient checks, occasional emergencies, and long, quiet hours of paperwork. But tonight had been different. Chaos had erupted when a massive street fight sent a wave of injured people flooding into the emergency room. Blood, shouting, the frantic pace of doctors and nurses scrambling to stabilize patients—it had been relentless. The hours dragged, exhaustion gnawed at your bones, and by the time your shift ended, you felt like a shadow of yourself.

Your city was usually quiet, only punctuated by brief moments of excitement. But lately, something had changed. A darker undercurrent ran beneath the surface, seeping into everyday life. Just last week, in the hospital’s changing room, you overheard whispers among your colleagues. Rumors of a secret fight club were spreading—an underground ring where people brawled for money, pride, or simply the thrill of it. These fights, they said, had been escalating, leaving competitors battered and broken, some requiring serious medical attention.

You weren’t one for gossip, though. Whether the fight club was real or just an exaggerated rumor, it wasn’t your concern. People made their choices, and you had enough on your plate without worrying about reckless strangers throwing punches for sport.

The drive home was quiet, the deserted streets bathed in the amber glow of streetlights. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the soft melody of your car radio provided a comforting contrast to the night’s earlier chaos. Slowly, the tension in your shoulders began to ease. By the time you pulled into your usual parking spot, the hospital felt like a distant memory.

Stepping into the lobby of your apartment building, you sighed as the old neon light above flickered erratically. The buzzing was almost rhythmic, a constant reminder that the building had seen better days. Your gaze drifted to the staircase—three flights between you and your apartment. Normally, the lack of an elevator was just a minor inconvenience, but tonight, with exhaustion weighing on you like lead, it felt like a cruel joke.

Halfway up the first flight, you heard it—a faint sound that made you stop mid-step. A muffled groan, low and pained. Your pulse quickened as you turned your head, searching for the source.

Then you saw him.

A man lay slumped against the wall on the landing, his jet-black hair tousled and damp with sweat. He was breathing heavily, his body tense as if every movement caused him pain. In the dim glow of the stairwell, you recognized him instantly—your neighbor.

You’d never spoken to him before. He was a mystery, always distant, his presence more like a shadow that drifted through the building without a word. On the rare occasions your paths crossed, he never acknowledged you beyond a curt nod—if even that.

But now, all that cold detachment was gone. Now, he was vulnerable.

For a brief moment, you hesitated. He wasn’t your responsibility. He had never shown the slightest interest in your existence, and yet, something about seeing him like this stirred unease in your chest.

Was he drunk? The thought crossed your mind as you took another step closer, subtly sniffing the air for any trace of alcohol. But before you could form a conclusion, his voice cut through the silence.

"I'm not drunk," he muttered, his tone low but sharp enough to catch you off guard.

You froze, startled, as though you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t. His dark eyes met yours under the flickering white neon, and for a brief second, you felt oddly flustered.

"Uh… well, are you okay?" you stammered, regaining your composure. "You don’t look like you’re in great shape."

He shifted slightly, trying to straighten himself against the wall, and that’s when you saw it—the deep crimson stain blooming across the fabric of his light-colored shirt.

Your breath hitched.

"Oh my God, you’re bleeding!" The words rushed out before you could stop them.

Instinct took over, and before he could protest, you were on your knees beside him, eyes scanning for the source of the wound. The sight of so much blood made your heart race.

His abdomen—that’s where the stain was darkest. The sheer amount of blood loss made you hiss in concern. You reached out, fingers hovering just above the fabric. In the hospital, you wouldn’t hesitate. You’d lift his shirt, assess the damage, and get to work. But here, in the dim stairwell of your apartment building, with a man you barely knew, you faltered.

“Can I move this?” you asked, voice softer now. “I need to see how bad it is.”

He let out a humorless chuckle, though it quickly turned into a grimace.

“Why do you even care?” he murmured, his voice laced with something unreadable. "Are you a doctor or something? You don’t even know me. Why would you help me?"

His words stung, though you weren’t sure why. Maybe because, despite his attempt at indifference, there was something raw beneath them—something that hinted at a man who wasn’t used to kindness.

You met his gaze, steady and unwavering.

"Because you need it," you said simply. "Now, let me help you."

He stared at you for a long moment, and then, with a tired sigh, he let his head rest back against the wall.

"Fine," he muttered. "Do whatever you want."

And with that, you carefully lifted the fabric, bracing yourself for what you might find beneath.

Beneath the fabric, you saw a horizontal wound—deep, but not deep enough to cause internal damage. Judging by the clean slice, it looked like a knife wound. Experience told you that this would need stitches. The amount of blood loss was severe; it was a wonder he was still conscious. Adrenaline, you realized, must be keeping him awake.

The weather wasn’t too cold, so you hadn’t worn a jacket, but you had a silk scarf in your bag—just in case. After a brief moment of hesitation, you pulled it out and pressed it firmly against the wound to slow the bleeding.

“You’re going to need stitches,” you murmured. “It’s not safe to do this here. These stairs are filthy—I don’t even want to think about when they were last cleaned. I have supplies in my apartment. Can you move?”

He let out a slow breath, his face contorting in pain as he tried to shift. For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t make it, but then he gritted his teeth and nodded.

“I’ll manage,” he muttered, voice hoarse.

You slipped an arm under his to help him up, his weight pressing heavily against you. It was going to be a long night.

As you struggled to maintain his weight, you couldn't help but notice the firm muscles beneath your fingers. His toned arm rested against you, and despite the situation, you briefly wondered if he spent time at the gym. He had always seemed distant and unapproachable, but now, pressed against you like this, he felt undeniably human. Vulnerable, even.

You suddenly realized you didn’t even know his first name.

“What’s your name, by the way?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual despite the tension in the air.

A beat of silence followed, his breathing slightly labored as he adjusted his stance. Then, with a weak but unmistakably sarcastic tone, he responded.

“I didn’t know we were doing a chit-chat session… If only I knew, I would’ve brought some tea and cookies.”

Despite yourself, you huffed out a short, amused breath. Even injured, he had the energy to be difficult.

You preferred to ignore his remark, exhaling a short sigh as you fumbled with your keys. Still, from the corner of your eye, you caught the faintest hint of satisfaction on his face, as if he was pleased with himself for the snarky comment. Rolling your eyes, you finally unlocked the door and guided him inside, steering him toward the sofa.

Helping him down, you underestimated his weight. He was heavier than he looked, and as he leaned into you, you lost your balance for a split second. Your body tilted forward, nearly collapsing onto him. At the last moment, you managed to steady yourself, gripping the back of the couch for support.

He didn’t miss the opportunity to tease you.

“Wow,” he rasped, amusement lacing his tired voice. “First, you drag me into your place, and now you’re trying to top me? You’re burning through a lot of steps here… and you still don’t even know my name.”

Your face heated instantly, and you straightened up, scoffing. “You’re delirious,” you muttered, ignoring the way your pulse quickened at his words. Turning on your heel, you hurried toward the bathroom, determined to collect your medical supplies before he could make another comment.

Just as you rummaged through the cabinet, his voice—softer this time—drifted through the apartment.

“It’s Jay,” he murmured. “My name is Jay, by the way.”

The sarcasm was gone now, replaced by something quieter, something almost... sincere.

As you stitched him up in the dim glow of your living room, Jay barely flinched. His eyes remained trained on you, unreadable, though his breathing had evened out somewhat. The tension in the air was thick, weighted by unspoken words.

"You're good at this," he finally said, breaking the silence.

"I should be," you murmured. "It's my job."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Nurse, huh?"

You nodded, securing the last stitch. "And you? Let me guess... underground fighter?"

His smirk deepened, though there was something almost resigned in it. "Something like that."

Your hands lingered on his skin for a moment before you finally sat back, exhaling slowly. "You should rest. You'll need it."

Jay watched you carefully, his expression unreadable. "And what if I don’t?"

You met his gaze, unwavering. "Then I guess you'll just end up back here again."

A quiet chuckle escaped him. "Guess I could do worse."

You tried to ignore his remark and walked to your open kitchen.

“Do you want anything to eat? Or drink? You should get some sleep too. You can sleep on the sofa; it's comfortable enough, I swear. I don't want the stitches to split, you know…”

“Fine, I'll sleep here then. I'm fine with food, but I'll gladly accept a glass of water, please.”

You could hear the tiredness in his voice. He must have been through a lot, even if you still didn't know what happened to him. You didn’t want to be too nosy for your own good. And you were kind of surprised to see him agree so easily, so you nodded and prepared a glass of water for him.

“Here you are.”

As you handed him the water, you realized that he was still shirtless because of the stitches and the bloody shirt he had been wearing before.

“Would you like a shirt to wear for the night? I have some oversized ones if you want. I can wash the one you were wearing before.”

“Oh, you don't need to wash it. It's okay. I’d feel indebted, and I hate that. You already did enough for me,” he muttered. “Besides, I'm used to sleeping shirtless anyway, so it's fine.”

You hesitated for a moment, watching him as he took a sip of water. The way he held the glass—like it was taking every ounce of his strength just to keep it steady—made your stomach twist with unease. He was clearly exhausted, his body pushed to its limits, and yet he still tried to maintain a sense of control, a sense of dignity.

"Suit yourself," you murmured, watching as he leaned back against the couch, his eyes half-lidded with fatigue. The faint glow of the city lights outside painted his face in soft shadows, highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline, the subtle tension in his brow. He looked like someone who had seen too much, someone carrying a weight too heavy for one person alone.

After a moment of silence, Jay spoke, his voice quieter than before. "What's your name?"

You blinked, slightly caught off guard. "Y/N."

He nodded slowly, as if committing it to memory. "Thanks for… everything, Y/N."

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, then closed his eyes for a moment. You thought he might be drifting off, but then he spoke again, his voice quieter this time.

"You should be careful."

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

Jay's eyes flickered open just enough to meet yours, his gaze unreadable. "You're better off not knowing, Y/N. Some things are safer in the dark."

A chill ran down your spine. The weight of his words settled deep in your chest, heavy and unsettling. You had noticed the shift in the city—the strange unease that lingered in the air like an oncoming storm. The hospital had seen more violent cases lately, unexplained injuries, people unwilling to talk. And now, Jay—bleeding, cryptic, sitting in your apartment like some unfinished story.

"What are you involved in?" you asked quietly.

Jay exhaled, a tired, humorless sound. "I told you—you're better off not knowing. Just… be careful."

His voice was softer this time, almost reluctant. You could tell he was holding something back, something that could change everything. But instead of pressing him, you just watched as his eyes slipped shut again, exhaustion finally pulling him under.

You could tell he was holding back details, but you didn't press. Instead, you sat down across from him, studying his face. There was something about him—something that made you want to understand, to help, even though logic screamed at you to stay out of it.

"You should sleep," you said finally.

He gave a slow nod, his body already surrendering to exhaustion. As you stood and made your way to your bedroom, you couldn't shake the feeling that this night had changed something. That Jay had pulled you into something much bigger than either of you realized.

The next morning, the sound of silence greeted you. You stretched, groggy from sleep, and padded out of your bedroom, expecting to see Jay still asleep on the couch.

But he was gone.

The blankets you had given him were neatly folded on the armrest, the glass of water empty and placed carefully on the kitchen counter. It was as if he had never been there at all.

You stood still for a moment, staring at the quiet remnants of his presence. A faint trace of something lingered in the air—his scent, a mix of soap and something vaguely metallic, like the echo of last night's blood. You exhaled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, trying to ignore the strange emptiness settling in your chest.

You should have known he wouldn't stay. A man like Jay never stayed in one place for too long. He was a shadow, slipping between the cracks, existing only on the periphery. And yet, part of you had expected—or maybe hoped—that he'd still be here when you woke up.

Your gaze drifted to the small piece of paper on the kitchen counter. A napkin, folded over, with something scrawled in dark ink.

"Stay out of trouble."

You ran your fingers over the words, as if they might reveal more than what was written. No name, no explanation. Just a warning. A part of you wanted to crumple the napkin and throw it away. Another part wanted to hold onto it.

With a quiet sigh, you placed it back on the counter. You told yourself you wouldn't get involved. That last night was a fluke, a coincidence. But deep down, you had the sinking feeling that this wasn't over.

And somehow, you knew Jay would be back.

Days passed, then weeks, and Jay remained a ghost in your life. You told yourself you weren’t waiting for him, that his absence didn’t gnaw at the back of your mind late at night. But sometimes, when exhaustion from long hospital shifts blurred the edges of your thoughts, you found yourself wondering where he was, if he was alright. If he had gotten himself into more trouble.

Work kept you busy enough to push those thoughts aside. One of your colleagues had taken leave, and you were drowning in extra shifts, barely having time to breathe. The days blurred together—long nights at the hospital, short-lived sleep, and an endless cycle of patients, beeping monitors, and hurried footsteps.

Then, one afternoon, as you were slipping on your shoes, ready to head out and finally catch a breath of fresh air with a friend, a knock echoed through your apartment. It was sharp, deliberate.

Frowning, you glanced at the door. You weren’t expecting anyone.

When you opened it, your breath hitched slightly.

Jay stood there.

It had been weeks, but he looked nearly the same—just as unreadable, just as distant. But there was something else, something in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his gaze flickered over you as if making sure you were still in one piece.

"It's been a while," you said, unable to hide the hint of surprise in your voice.

Jay’s lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something—but then he hesitated. Instead, he exhaled slowly and met your eyes. "Can I come in?"

You were supposed to leave, but you just couldn't say no to him, and you didn't know why. There was something about Jay—something in the way he stood there, his presence filling the space like a quiet storm. His hair had grown a little longer since the last time you'd seen him, and the way his fringe fell against his eyelashes made him look almost boyish, despite the sharp edge of his demeanor. You forced yourself to focus on anything else, anything but his face—or worse, his body.

"Uhm, yeah. Sure, come in." You stepped aside, giving him enough space to enter as you closed the door behind him, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment settle around you.

He moved with a casual ease, making his way to the bar of your open kitchen. It was only then that you noticed what he was holding—your silk scarf. The same one that had been stained with his blood. You had completely forgotten about it, about the mess of that night, but he hadn’t.

"I washed it for you," he said, holding it out. "It was all stained. I tried to stop by a few times, but you were never home… so I couldn't give it back to you."

You took the scarf, running your fingers over the smooth fabric, now spotless, as if that night had never happened.

"Oh… thank you. You could've just left it at my door, you know."

"No," Jay said, shaking his head slightly. "I didn’t want to. I wanted to thank you.

And…" He hesitated for just a moment before adding, "I wanted to see you."

You were caught completely off guard by his words. Your mouth opened slightly, as if to respond, but no words came out. Instead, you shut it quickly, your mind scrambling to process what he had just said. He wanted to see you? That was unexpected—unsettling, even.

Trying to regain some sense of normalcy, you turned away and made your way to the kitchen. You busied yourself with pouring him a glass of water, just like the last time. It was something to focus on, something simple. But the entire time, you were hyper-aware of his presence, of the way he seemed so at ease in your space. He leaned against the counter with a kind of lazy confidence, as if he belonged here, as if he had always been part of your life.

But that wasn’t the case.

The first time you met him, he was bleeding out in the stairwell. That was the reality. Not this strange sense of familiarity that had somehow settled between you two. Not this bizarre comfort in his presence. You barely knew him. And yet, here he was, lingering in your kitchen like a ghost that refused to be forgotten.

And that’s what made you uneasy.

Because the more you thought about it, the more you realized—you didn’t really know who Jay was at all. You didn’t know where he went when he disappeared for days, or why he had been covered in blood the night you found him. You didn’t know if he was bad news or worse—dangerous.

And the worst part?

You should have been thinking about that before letting him have a damn sleepover in your living room.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice what he was doing at first. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught the slow movement of his fingers playing with something—a small, crumpled piece of paper. Or rather, a paper towel.

It took you a second to realize what it was.

The note.

The one he left for you that morning.

“Oh? You kept my note?” His voice was laced with amusement, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “How cute.”

That smirk—it was becoming a habit. Maybe it was his signature look, that teasing half-smile that made it impossible to tell whether he was being serious or just messing with you.

Your stomach twisted slightly as you realized you had, in fact, kept it. Not intentionally. You had been so busy with work, drowning in shifts and exhaustion, that you completely forgot to throw it away. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered, reaching out and snatching the paper towel from his hands before he could say anything else. “I just forgot it was there.”

“Mm-hmm.” He didn’t look convinced.

His eyes flickered over you, studying your reaction with that unreadable expression of his. And for a brief moment, you had the strangest feeling—that he could see right through you. That he knew you weren’t being entirely honest.

That maybe, just maybe, you had kept the note on purpose.

But before you could dwell on it any longer, Jay leaned back against the counter, stretching his arms over his head like he had all the time in the world.

“So,” he said, voice casual, “how long are you gonna keep pretending you’re not curious about me?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

Because the truth was—you were curious. You had been from the very beginning.

And Jay knew it.

You tried to look disinterested by his words, forcing yourself to maintain a neutral expression.

"I'm not. Do you think you're a psychic or something?"

He frowned slightly, caught off guard by your sudden change in attitude. His gaze lingered on you, studying your face like he was trying to decipher a puzzle.

"What's with the change of mood right now? Last time I saw you, you were so nosy about me."

You crossed your arms, not breaking eye contact. "It's called being worried. And last time I checked, it's been days since then. So why do you care to tell me now, huh?"

The atmosphere shifted, heavy with unspoken words. The silence between you stretched, thick and unbearable. Jay exhaled slowly, placing the towel back on the counter. He opened his mouth, as if about to respond, but before he could, the sudden shrill ring of your phone cut through the tension.

"Oh my God—Giselle!" you muttered, your stomach twisting as you glanced at the caller ID. You had completely forgotten about her. Swiping to answer, you turned slightly away from Jay. "Hey, I’m so sorry. Something came up, and that’s why I’m running late. I’ll explain later."

After ending the call, you hesitated before turning back to Jay. His expression was unreadable, his posture tense, like he was weighing whether to say something or let it go. The way he stood there, quiet and brooding, sent a strange ripple through your chest.

"I won't take much more of your time," he said finally, his voice quieter than before. "You have somewhere to be."

Something about the way he said it—flat, detached—made your stomach tighten. You opened your mouth, wanting to say something, but the words stuck in your throat. He gave you one last unreadable glance before stepping back, his presence already slipping away like a shadow.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

Reunited with your friend, you were barely enjoying your evening. You had gone out to clear your mind after all the stress from work, but no matter how much you tried to distract yourself, your thoughts kept circling back to Jay.

Giselle was animatedly recounting how she met her new crush, her excitement evident in the way her hands gestured wildly as she spoke. But you weren’t even listening. Her words faded into the background, blending with the ambient noise of the café, drowned out by the thoughts racing in your head.

You felt guilty—guilty for zoning out on your friend, but even more so for how you had treated Jay earlier. The way you had brushed him off, the sharpness in your tone—it all replayed in your mind, making your stomach twist uncomfortably. He had come to see you for a reason, and instead of hearing him out, you had shut him down.

Giselle suddenly paused mid-sentence, narrowing her eyes at you. "Okay, what’s going on with you? You’ve been weirdly quiet all night."

You blinked, realizing you had been staring into your drink for who knows how long.

"Huh?" you said, attempting to feign innocence.

She gave you a knowing look, crossing her arms. "Don’t ‘huh’ me. Spill."

You hesitated, debating whether to brush it off or tell her the truth. But the weight in your chest was growing heavier by the second. With a sigh, you finally admitted, "It’s... Jay."

Giselle arched an eyebrow. "The mysterious neighbor? What about him?"

You hesitated again, running a hand through your hair. "I don’t know. He showed up earlier, and I just— I don’t think I handled it well."

She leaned forward, intrigued. "Wait, wait. Start from the beginning. What happened?"

You took a deep breath, trying to piece together your jumbled emotions. "He just seemed... off. Like, there was something he wanted to say, but I kind of pushed him away before he could. And now I can’t stop thinking about it."

Giselle smirked, sipping her drink. "Sounds like you care about him more than you’re willing to admit."

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew she wasn’t entirely wrong. And that realization unsettled you

more than anything else.

You hadn’t planned on seeing Jay again.

Not tonight. Not this soon. And definitely not like this.

It was just past midnight when you stepped into the quiet of your apartment, shoes in hand, coat barely hanging off your shoulders. Giselle had insisted on walking you halfway home before giving you a final, pointed look that said: Figure it out. And you had nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

You didn’t know what you were hoping for when you turned your key in the lock. Certainly not Jay, waiting for you in the hallway, seated on the floor with his back against the wall, head tilted up like he’d been dozing off.

Your breath caught.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, voice hushed in disbelief.

Jay looked up slowly, his eyes finding yours in the dim light. “You left your door unlocked.”

“That… doesn’t answer my question.”

He stood, brushing his hands on his jeans. “I figured I’d wait. In case you wanted to talk.”

You blinked. “You could’ve texted.”

“You could’ve answered.”

Touché.

You swallowed thickly, the air around you shifting—dense, electric. There was a beat of silence between you, longer than it should’ve been, until you stepped past him into the apartment. You didn’t invite him in this time. You didn’t need to.

He followed you anyway.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the sound was deafening in the stillness of the space.

“I was out with a friend,” you said, dropping your coat over the back of a chair, your tone deliberately neutral.

“I figured,” he replied, watching you closely.

You turned toward him, arms folded tightly across your chest. “What are we doing, Jay?”

His expression shifted, something unreadable passing through his gaze. “You tell me.”

“You show up bleeding one night, sleep on my couch, vanish without a word, and then come back acting like this is normal. Like we’re normal. We’re not.”

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate. “Doesn’t feel normal to you?”

Your back hit the kitchen counter before you realized you’d even moved. Jay was in front of you now, close enough that you could see the faint scar near his jaw, the way his lashes cast shadows under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders as he leaned down—just enough to be in your space, without touching you.

“No,” you whispered. “It doesn’t.”

His hand lifted slowly, giving you a chance to stop him. You didn’t.

Fingers brushed your jaw, warm and steady, as he tilted your face up to meet his.

“You’ve been in my head,” he murmured, his voice low, roughened at the edges. “Since that night. And I don’t know what this is either, but I’m not going to pretend I don’t want it.”

You could barely breathe.

Your hands found his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric—not pulling him closer, not pushing him away. Just holding. Like that alone might steady you.

“What if this is a bad idea?” you managed.

He leaned in, lips brushing the corner of your mouth. Not kissing. Not yet. Just close enough to tempt.

“Then let’s make it the kind of bad we don’t regret.”

That was all it took.

Your mouth met his in a rush, like you’d been holding back for too long. The kiss was messy, heated—his hands finding your waist, your hips, anchoring you against the counter as if he couldn’t stand the space between you. Your fingers slid under his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders, and he let it fall without a second thought.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t soft.

Jay kissed like he meant it—like he had something to prove. His tongue slid against yours, his hand slipping under your shirt, splaying wide across your lower back, drawing you closer until there was no room left between your bodies. You could feel the tension in him, the way he was holding back, barely.

“Bedroom?” he asked between kisses, voice thick with restraint.

You nodded, breathless.

He didn’t wait. He scooped you up with startling ease, and your arms looped around his neck instinctively. You were in your room within seconds, the door kicked shut behind him.

Clothes came off in pieces—your shirt over your head, his hands tugging at your waistband, his own shirt discarded on the floor. You barely noticed the mess. You were too focused on the way he looked in the faint light of your bedside lamp: sculpted, lean, every movement controlled like he knew exactly what he was doing—and exactly what he wanted.

His mouth trailed along your collarbone, down your chest, until you gasped his name, fingers threading through his hair.

And when he finally sank into you, it wasn’t rushed anymore. It was slow. Purposeful. His mouth found yours again, softer this time, as if to make sure you felt every second of it. Every inch.

“You’re dangerous,” you whispered against his skin, dazed and breathless.

Jay only smiled, low and wicked, as his pace deepened.

“You let me in anyway.”

You lay there in silence for a while, his body warm beside yours, his fingers tracing lazy circles along your arm. The calm was deceptive—too still, too quiet—like the eye of a storm.

But you couldn’t let it go. You had to know.

“Jay,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the hush. “That night. When I found you. Why were you bleeding?”

He stiffened slightly, the motion subtle but noticeable. His hand stopped moving, and for a moment, you thought he wasn’t going to answer.

Then, he sat up, running a hand through his hair.

“You really want to know?” he asked, not looking at you.

“Yes,” you said, sitting up as well, wrapping the sheet around you. “I do.”

Jay exhaled hard, like the truth cost him something just to say out loud. “I’m part of a fight club.”

You blinked. “A what?”

“A fight club,” he repeated, slower this time. “Underground. No rules. No names. Just blood and money.”

You stared at him, heart sinking. “God, Jay.”

“It’s not what you think,” he muttered quickly, sensing your reaction. “I don’t do it for fun. It’s not about the violence. I needed the cash—at first. And then it became something else. Something I couldn’t walk away from.”

“You make it sound like an addiction,” you said, trying to keep your voice level.

He looked at you finally, his gaze unreadable. “Maybe it is.”

The weight of his confession settled over you like a cold fog. You swallowed hard.

“Jay, you can’t keep living like this. It’s dangerous. You could get seriously hurt—worse.”

He pulled away slightly, a flash of something dark crossing his face. “You don’t get it.”

“Then help me understand.”

He stood abruptly, pacing the room. “You don’t know what it’s like. The kind of pressure I’m under. The things I’ve had to do just to stay afloat. This—” he gestured between you two, “—this isn’t part of that world. And maybe it shouldn’t be.”

You flinched, feeling the sting behind his words. “So what are you saying? That this was a mistake?”

He hesitated. Just long enough.

And you filled the silence yourself.

“Maybe it was,” you said, wrapping the sheet tighter around your chest. “Maybe it shouldn’t have happened.”

Jay’s eyes darkened. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like this meant nothing to you.”

“Then stop pushing me away!” you snapped. “I let you in, Jay. I gave a damn when no one else did. And you can’t even let me care without treating it like a threat.”

Silence fell again, heavy and final. Jay looked at you like he wanted to say something more—needed to—but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, he turned, grabbing his clothes off the floor.

You watched, arms folded tightly, your throat burning.

He dressed without speaking, and when he reached the door, he paused.

“Thanks for the scarf,” he said quietly, almost bitterly. “And for the couch. I’ll let myself out.”

You didn’t move.

Didn’t stop him.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence he left in his wake was deafening.

Three days.

That’s how long it had been since Jay walked out of your apartment—out of your bed, out of your life—with nothing more than a quiet goodbye.

And despite everything, despite what you’d told him (and told yourself), your thoughts kept drifting back to that night. His hands, his mouth, his eyes when he looked at you like you were the only thing tethering him to reality. It wasn’t supposed to happen. But it did. And now you couldn’t un-feel it.

You told yourself you were done. You told Giselle you were over it.

But when your phone rang, a number you didn’t recognize lighting up the screen, your gut twisted.

You hesitated before answering. “Hello?”

“Hi—uh, is this Y/N?”

Your brows furrowed. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to call you like this. I’m a friend of Jay’s. My name’s Jake. He… he’s at the hospital.”

Your blood ran cold.

“What? What happened?”

“There was a fight. One of the guys went too far. Jay tried to stop it, but he got dragged into it. He’s okay now, but… he asked for you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. “What hospital?”

The fluorescent lights of the emergency wing buzzed softly overhead as you hurried through the halls, pulse racing. The moment you reached the room number Jake had given you, you saw him—Jay, sitting on the hospital bed, stitches along his eyebrow, a bruise darkening his jaw, IV hooked to his arm.

He looked up when you entered, eyes widening slightly.

“I told you not to come,” he muttered.

You ignored that. “You look like hell.”

A half-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You always know what to say.”

You approached slowly, not sure if you were angry or relieved or both. “Why did you ask for me?”

He looked away, his jaw clenched. “Because… I didn’t know who else to call.”

That hit harder than you expected.

You sat down in the chair beside his bed, letting the silence stretch between you before you finally asked, “Are you done?”

He frowned. “With what?”

“With all this. The fighting. The club. Putting yourself in danger like it’s a game.”

“It’s not that simple—”

“It is,” you cut in, voice shaking. “You’re going to die if you keep doing this. Maybe not today, maybe not next week, but it’s going to happen. And what then? Another anonymous body in a back alley? Another name scratched off a list?”

Jay’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t argue.

“Do you even care what that would do to the people who care about you?” you added.

He flinched. “People like you?”

You stared at him. “Yeah. People like me.”

There it was again—that look. The one that made your stomach flip and your heart ache. Like he was seeing you for the first time and didn’t know what to do with the weight of it.

“I don’t want to lose you, Jay,” you whispered.

He looked at you then, fully. “I don’t want to lose myself.”

You didn’t speak again for a long moment. Instead, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand.

“Then let me help you,” you said. “But only if you want out.”

He looked down at your hand—small, steady, warm over his—and something in his expression shifted. Slowly, cautiously, he nodded.

“Okay.”

Five days later.

Jay had been discharged that morning. You knew because Jake had texted you—short and to the point. He’s home. Still looks like shit, but he’s fine. You hadn’t answered.

You’d told Jay you wanted to help him. That much was true. But part of you was scared. Scared of what helping him might mean. Of what being close to him again would do to your heart, to your sanity. Still, when you found yourself walking down the familiar hallway to his apartment later that evening, you didn’t stop yourself.

You knocked once. The door opened a few seconds later.

Jay stood there in a plain black hoodie and joggers, his hair tousled, dark eyes shadowed but alert. The bruises were fading, but the stitches still held a stark contrast against his skin. He didn’t say anything—just stepped aside to let you in.

“You should lock your door,” you muttered, brushing past him.

“I was expecting you.”

You glanced back at him. “That so?”

He shrugged one shoulder, then leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “I didn’t think you’d stay away forever.”

You turned to face him fully. “You scared me, Jay.”

His gaze dropped for a beat. “I know.”

“I thought I was going to lose you.”

Something about the way you said it made him still. Slowly, he moved toward you—tentative, like approaching something fragile.

“But you didn’t,” he said, voice low. “You didn’t lose me.”

“Yet.”

You hated how small your voice sounded. Vulnerable. But Jay didn’t flinch. Instead, he took one more step, closing the space between you. His hand lifted, hesitating for a breath before it came to rest lightly on your waist.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “I want out. For real this time. No more clubs. No more fights. No more running.”

You searched his face, looking for cracks in the promise, but what you saw was something steadier. Something honest.

“You’re serious?”

He nodded once. “Yeah. But I’m gonna need you to believe in me. Because I don’t really know how to do this… the right way.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you stepped closer, until his chest was nearly brushing yours, your hands sliding slowly up the front of his hoodie.

“Then maybe we start over,” you whispered.

Jay tilted his head, his lips ghosting over yours. “How?”

Your fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt. “Ask me out, properly. Not just showing up in my apartment bleeding, or waiting for me in the hallway.”

That earned a soft, crooked smile from him.

“Okay,” he said. “Y/N… would you go out with me? On a real date. Just us. No blood, no drama. Just… you and me.”

You smiled, warmth blooming slowly in your chest. “I thought you’d never ask.”

And then he kissed you—not like the other night, not wild and rushed and desperate. This kiss was different. Slower. Deeper. Like a beginning instead of a breaking point.

He pulled you closer, his hands moving with reverent ease, like he was memorizing the shape of your back, the curve of your spine. His mouth moved against yours, soft but sure, his lips parting just enough to invite yours to follow. You melted into him, sighing quietly as your body pressed flush against his.

When he finally pulled back, breath slightly uneven, his voice was rough.

“You stayin’ tonight?”

You looked up at him, heart thudding.

“Only if we actually get to sleep this time,” you teased.

He chuckled, eyes gleaming with something dangerous and sweet.

“No promises.”

——

TAGLIST -> @kyunlov @jungwoncatboy @fancypeacepersona @citylightsdoll @rayofsunshineeee @jaylajakey @haechsworld @sukisvr

#enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen imagines #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #jay enhypen #jaystardust #park jay x reader #enhypen jay #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong

197 notes · View notes

pseudonymjones · 2 days ago

Note

how do you be a mom and still have energy to finish comics? I'm asking sincerely as someone who wants to be a mom but is currently too scared that I'll lose my identity if I go through with it. If you've answered this before feel free to just link me to your response. And of course there's no actual obligation to reply.

Who is the mom who still has the energy to finish comics? Is the mom with the energy to finish comics in the room with us right now?

Ok ok, you’re asking sincerely so I’ll be really fucking for real right now. Here is how I manage to maintain my relatively meager comic output:

1. I have a day job that pays me well enough that I don’t need a second job, and I’m able to work remotely so I’m able to spend a little time with my family and do housework in my downtime.

2. I have a partner who supports the fucking hell out of me, recognizes how important Making Stuff is to my mental wellbeing, and does extra work to help me carve out a few hours a week to draw.

3. I cut way, WAY back on the scope of what I was trying to make. It may not look it at first but worm-in-a-rock god is a significant departure from my typical comic work — there’s no dialogue so no lettering or fussing about text layouts. It’s black and white, and each page is usually about 4 panels. Worm-in-a-rock god is about as simple of a character design as you can get. The first chapter barely had backgrounds. All that, and I’m still only clocking in at about a page a week. The whole thing came from a place of: I keep not being able to finish the things I want to make so I’m going to design a thing I can make with the time and energy I have.

So, uh: luck, love, and compromise. And a lot of hard work??? Same stuff that goes into making a kid. Same stuff that goes into making anything I guess. Sorry, I don’t have a secret.

And idk how to say this in a way that doesn’t seem cynical but you’re going to lose part of yourself. You’re 100% of a person now and the part of you that is going to be a mom has to come from somewhere. But it’s not a loss. It’s just a change, and you were going to change anyway. And I really like the part of me that changed into a mom.

Good luck, with whatever you end up making.

#ask pseu everything

245 notes · View notes

pedropascallme · 2 days ago

Text

Happy at Home

Pairing: husband!König x wife!Reader

Summary: "But you humored him, because you enjoyed the ritual of it. You enjoyed being tucked away with your husband, loving on him day in and day out until the two of you decided it was time to really go home, letting him have his peace—being his peace."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) p in v sex, shower sex, fingering, softdom!Köning, tiny bit of size kink (obviously), praise, dirty talk (a lot of it is in German), creampie, if I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Having some big feelings about husband!König and how in love with you he is and how needy he would be after coming home from deployment. Per usual, I don't speak German, so sorry in advance for any straight up nonsense my translations might be <3

The slow tick of the clock hand over the twelve marked another full day of waiting for König.

You sat idly in the living room, waiting impatiently for the mug of tea in front of you to cool. As the days wore on, you became more impatient about everything; unable to quell the excitement you felt at the promise of his return, the suspense of when the door might open with him there on the other side to greet you.

Fiddling with the string of the teabag, you turned your attention to the window, watching the sun dip behind the horizon

The setting was pretty, at least; the peaks and dips of the hillsides perfectly paralleled the waves of anticipation that rolled over you.

König always insisted on staying at the house in the hills when he came back from deployment. It was quiet, peaceful, and he preferred it to being immediately thrust back into the bustle of city life in Vienna after spending months at a time being used as a human battering ram.

He liked the tranquility that the rustic, rural parts of Germany offered; he liked isolating after deployment; he liked waking up in the morning and knowing that you would be the only person he would see all day.

You knew he loved it, but it was a pain to travel over the border, and the house was so far north, you felt you might as well be in Copenhagen.

Being in the house alone was no fun, either—the city, at least, was swathed in light and sound at all hours; here, though, the stillness offered little comfort late at night, and you worried about the old, rusted locks on the windows.

But you humored him, because you enjoyed the ritual of it. You enjoyed being tucked away with your husband, loving on him day in and day out until the two of you decided it was time to really go home, letting him have his peace—being his peace.

In the grand scheme of things, you didn't mind. If he was with you, you were already home, no matter the setting.

So you always got there before he did. You busied yourself with grocery shopping and ensured that the house held the necessities you would require over the days, or weeks, you ended up staying; you knew when he got here, you wouldn't have the time to do errands. You took in the sunshine and the landscape, trying to get through the days without focusing too much on counting down the hours that brought him closer to arriving.

You blew on your tea, still admiring the view from the window. You'd done all the shopping, you'd stared at the hills for long enough; now, all you really wanted was him.

When you heard the door click, it pulled you from your thoughts, and you felt a momentary rush of anxiety; it might be him, but it might be a crazed, chainsaw wielding farmer.

The door swung open, and you were giddy to see that it was the former.

"Meine Liebe—?" König called, dropping his bag unceremoniously by his feet as he trudged in.

His eyes fell to you, watching as you jumped from your seat and greeting you with open arms that swept you up. You reciprocated the action, scrambling to wrap yourself around him and hanging off of his body.

When you managed to pull him down enough, standing on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around his neck, you pressed your lips to his; an eager, passionate welcome for the man you'd missed to desperately. He moaned softly against your mouth, and you swallowed the sound with pleasure.

"Ah...You have missed me?" He teased when you pulled back, petting your hair.

"Yeah," you muttered, not willing to tease him back; not willing to lie by saying that you couldn't care less that he had been gone. "So much."

"And I have missed you, Schatz," he squeezed you tighter. "But I am back."

You laughed quietly against him. He never seemed to grasp the satisfaction, the ease that swept through you when he returned. To him, it was just another day; to you, it was proof that he was still alive.

"You're still in your uniform." You pointed out the obvious as you tilted your head up at him, pressing your cheek into the scratchy fabric of his kit.

"People get out of my way when they see that I am uniformed."

"You're ten feet tall," you cooed, "They'd do that, anyway."

He shook his head, brows knit in vague confusion.

"Ten is too many."

You laughed, and he seemed content to be the source of your amusement.

He'd had the foresight to remove his hood before coming home, at least—he wanted a completely unobstructed view, to be able to see you without the occasional sway of fabric in his peripheral.

And being able to kiss you freely was a plus.

You lifted a hand to stroke his cheek, eager to take all of him in, to openly adore him.

"You're filthy." You pointed out, your admiration of his face forcing you to notice scratches and bruises, the grimy discoloration from mud and blood on his skin.

"Es gefällt dir, Liebling," he chuckled above you, "Or do you lie when I am making you—"

"Different kind of filthy." You pressed a hand to his chest, backing away and smirking up at him.

"Bitte,” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back in. “You will come bathe with me."

You made a face, now more than willing to tease him.

"You're all bloody..." You trailed a finger over a shallow scratch on his cheek, "And I showered this morning."

"You will need another." He stared down at you, expression tender but eyes hungry, starved for you.

"You think so?” You quirked a brow, reciprocating his obvious need but still taunting him.

König said nothing as he picked you up and slung you over his shoulder. He grabbed at your legs, pressing kisses to your thigh and staining you with the dusty remains of the dirt still on his skin.

"Schmutziges Mädchen," he tsked, as if you had been lying, "You must let me clean you."

"Hey!" You pretended to fight his grip on you, wriggling in his arms.

"Sh," he laughed as he carried you to the bathroom, "You complain for no reason, Kleine."

"You would complain, too, if I picked you up and dragged you to the bathroom." You grumbled, giving in and slumping over his shoulder, smiling as you tugged on the back of his shirt.

"Ich würde nicht," he shook his head, finally setting you down on the edge of the bath and looming over you. "I do not see any reason to complain, if a beautiful woman treated me this way."

"I'll remember that." You rolled your eyes, and he grinned down at you.

You took the position as an opportunity to reach up, dragging your hand over his clothed thigh and letting your fingers brush just beneath the hem of his shirt.

"You have a question to ask me, Liebling?" He sighed, folding his arms as he admired you from above and waited to see if you would submit.

“…Take off your uniform.” You hooked your fingers beneath the waistband of his pants.

“That is not a question,” he smirked down at you, letting your hands roam over his form. “You have forgotten your manners? I was not gone so long…”

“Will you take off your uniform?” You smiled softly up at him, “Please?”

You could hear the quiet, satisfied grunt that rumbled from his chest as he bent forward to take your hand in his, kissing your knuckles before straightening up and stripping himself down.

He paused when he got to his belt buckle.

“You as well, Engel.”

You bit your bottom lip, made more eager by his impatience, thrilled to have gotten the okay from him. You stood, stripping off the thin layer of clothing you’d been wearing, tossing them into the pile he’d begun to make with his uniform.

You were barely out of your shorts when König grabbed you by the waist, hauling you off your feet and bringing your face to his.

“Schöne Frau,” he kissed you slowly before dipping his face down and nipping the exposed skin of your neck and chest. “More perfect every day.”

You wrapped your legs around him, supported by his hands and waist as he left love bites on your neck.

“I missed you,” you breathed, closing your eyes and succumbing to the warmth that bloomed in your abdomen, the heat of his palms and the drag of his lips. “I missed you so much.”

“Do not miss me anymore,” König murmured against your neck, “There is no need, Kleine. I am here now.”

You rested your hand on the nape of his neck, desperate to be close, to seal off any gaps between the two of you.

“Are you gonna hold me here like this all night?” You mused, tilting your head back further when he began to suck on your pulse point.

“What is so wrong with that?”

“You’re covered in blood.”

“It is not my own.” König didn’t miss a beat, still pressing kisses to you, grazing his teeth against the marks he made as he argued.

“Still,” you sighed, “You’re d—dirty.” You lost the proper words momentarily when his hand dipped between the crevice of your thighs from behind, fingers barely ghosting over your slit as he changed his grip on you. “Shower with me.”

Now he paused, leveling his gaze with yours again.

“You are asking for the shower now?” He smirked, and you stopped yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Yes.” You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

“You said you had no need to bathe, Liebling,” he tilted his head forward, brushing your nose with his. “What has made you change your mind?”

He wanted so desperately to hear you say the words, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him that joy—especially not when you were itching to say them, to forfeit your previous teasing and cocky attitude and plead for him to do what you both wanted.

“Will you fuck me?” You pressed your cheek to his, purring into his ear. “Please, will you fuck me? Nice and warm in the shower?”

He let out a satisfied sound, and you could feel the vibrations travel through his body where you were pressed up against him.

“If you are insisting…” He feigned disinterest, though you could see right through it—and he knew that.

You laughed against the crook of his neck when he finally stepped over the edge of the bath, wobbling slightly in his arms when he reached to turn the water on.

“I will put you down now.” He said it with finality, easing you onto your own two feet and staring down at you.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy having you close, carrying you around like a doll, but he was eager to get a proper look at you; drink in your nude form as the water danced over your skin.

“Turn around,” you ordered, “Under the water.”

In the fashion of the obedient husband that he was, he turned, swapping places with you to ensure the faucet was spraying him directly.

“You take orders so well, Colonel.” You taunted, grabbing the soap and lathering it over him.

“Nur von Dir,” he closed his eyes briefly when you began washing him, but he quickly opened them, not wanting to miss a single moment; set on admiring you as much as he possibly could. “I am usually in charge, you know.”

“Are you?” You scrubbed grime from his face with only a bit of pushback from him. “They just give anybody authority, huh?”

“Seien Sie vorsichtig, Kleine.” König grabbed your wrist, halting your washing of his chest. “Or I will remind you of my rank.”

“Can’t pull rank on your wife.” You grinned up at him, knowing he was all bark and no bite when you had your hands on him like this.

“I will try,” he smirked, “Come to me.” He kept his grip on your wrist, pulling you against him and dropping his hands to your hips. You could feel him pressing his steadily hardening length to your stomach, and you swallowed the whine that threatened to escape you.

“At least let me wash off the dirt you smudged on me,” You pulled away from him coyly, turning your back to him. “Fair?”

He grunted briefly in protest but continued to let the water soothe him.

He watched you bathe yourself, a small part of him feeling greedy, desperate to have you return your hands to him so that he could bask in your warmth and your tenderness. In a moment of weakness, he almost allowed himself to feel jealous of the bar of soap in your hands, the object receiving the attention he so craved.

You went slowly, scrubbing lightly at the streaks of ashy brown that his hands had trailed over your legs and torso. It wasn’t meant to be teasing, but you certainly didn’t put any effort into going faster.

König huffed, impatient, and pulled you back to his chest, wrapping his arms around you so that you couldn’t move away again.

You let out a quiet sound from the back of your throat in warning; a completely empty threat.

“Do not walk away from me, Liebling,” his words were meant to be domineering, but his voice came out pleading. “Ich will meine Frau.”

His hands traveled lazily up your sides, and you could feel yourself giving in.

“Need to clean up,” you muttered half-heartedly, “Got me all gross.”

“You may clean,” he chuckled behind you, dropping his face to speak into your ear, “I simply wish to be near you, ja?”

He pulled you closer to him, forcing his erection up against your ass and making you shiver.

You loved this game. You loved that even after marriage, there was excitement; that you could play cat-and-mouse and rile yourselves up before giving into the very real, very intense urges you felt for each other.

Being here with him was unparalleled; you could live and die like this and be completely content.

His hands strayed over your stomach, one keeping you in place while the other dipped lower, running his fingers down to your clit before tracing your slit and teasing your entrance.

“That’s—” A quiet whimper escaped your lips when he pushed a finger to the first knuckle into your cunt.

“Sh,” you could hear the smile on his lips, “I will not get in the way.”

He gripped your hip, keeping you steady so that when he finally pushed his finger deeper into you, he had the leverage to thrust it in and out.

“Oh—” You let your eyes flutter shut, immediately forgetting about your prior insistence that you be able to wash yourself.

“It has been so long, Liebling,” König sighed, bending down to kiss your shoulder as he continued to move his finger in and out of you slowly. “I have been worried—what should I do if you forgot how I feel inside of you?”

“Could never forget.” You sighed, meaning it wholeheartedly—there was absolutely no way your body or your mind could erase the pure bliss of having him touch you; of having him stretch you to his liking over and over again.

“Gut,” he smirked against your shoulder, “I will not let you.”

He drew his hand back briefly to add another finger, pushing into your cunt with a quiet groan as he explored you for the first time in weeks. He could get off like this, if he really wanted to; bucking his hips against you as he worked your cunt open with his fingers, listening to the soft sounds you made over the drip of the water.

König felt breathless, leaving any remaining care behind, focused solely on you and the way you felt around him. He stared down at his hand, watching his fingers disappear into you only to reveal themselves again, covered in your arousal.

He reached up awkwardly, smacking lightly at your cheek to hold your attention before placing his hand back on your hip.

“Watch,” he ordered, though his voice was soft in your ear, “You will look at how I open you.”

You craned your neck, watching him thrust his fingers into your eager cunt, slick dripping down over the digits only to get semi-rinsed by the water that still fell from the shower head.

“Do you see?” He mused, grinning at the way you admired yourself, “How beautiful you look on my hand? How you paint me?”

You whimpered, nodding. You kept your eyes glued to the spot where your bodies connected.

“Sprich mit mir, Kleine,” he nosed your neck, eager to hear your voice, to have all of you to himself, “Tell me how beautiful.”

“It’s—it’s pretty,” you whined, back arching to chase his fingers as they exited you, “I look so pretty with your fingers in my pussy.”

He groaned, nipping at your throat to express the gratitude that rushed through him upon hearing your words.

The hand he had perched on your hip traveled up to your chest; calloused fingers running over the peaks of your nipples until they stiffened, giving him the ability to pinch them and roll them between his fingers.

You leaned back against him, searching for stability as the coil in your stomach tightened almost uncomfortably. You waited for the final twitch of his fingers inside of you, and the gruff voice behind you to give you the permission you needed.

You could feel yourself squeeze the digits he had buried in you, walls pulsing around him tightly; he felt it too, groaning out deep huffs with every throb, trying to move his hand further between your legs in an attempt to stroke the delicate spot he knew so well.

You took a shuddered breath, eyes threatening to flutter shut as he just barely ghosted his fingers over your g-spot before pressing down more aggressively.

“Jetzt,” his voice came out soft and low, like he was holding his breath, “Bitte—jetzt, Liebling. Cum, and I will give you anything.”

You grabbed at his wrist, grip solid as you encouraged his movements.

“Just want—” you felt the initial trembles, the familiar constriction of your abdominal muscles as you succumbed to your high. “Fuck—I just want you.”

König moaned; dropping his face to your shoulder to stifle the sound, he moaned deep and wantonly at your admission.

It wasn’t as if he was shocked—of course a wife would desire her husband, crave his immediacy and his touch after so much time apart. But it was the way you said it, the adoration in your breath and the bodily responses he pulled from you.

He only ever wanted you, and to know for certain that the care was mutual, no matter how many times you confirmed it, was nothing short of orgasmic for him.

“Ja,” he sighed, arm snaking around your waist to hold you taut against him, “Gut. Gut, Kleine.”

He stroked lazily at your front wall, delighted by the harsh intake of breath it forced you to take and the way your body seized ever so slightly in his grasp as he prolonged the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Christ—” you finally tugged at his forearm—not irritated but realizing your need for even more. “You’re insatiable.”

“I have a pretty wife,” König chuckled, “It is only natural to want more.”

He removed his fingers from your cunt, bringing them to his mouth and groaning softly at the taste of you.

“More where that came from.” You murmured, turning your body to press your face into his chest, reaching up to stroke your fingers over the nape of his neck.

His cock pressed against your stomach, and you didn’t care to fight the way your thighs so obviously squeezed together, made only more desperate by the way the fingers of his free hand stroked idly over your flesh.

“Ich weiß, ja,” he released the fingers from his mouth, both hands moving to grip your waist. “And will you give it to me, Liebe?”

“Yeah,” you sighed into him, his wet skin absorbing the heat of your breath, “I’ll give you everything.”

You looked up at him, admiring the way the water of the shower flowed down his temples and converged to drip down his chin.

“You can take it from me,” you blinked away the stray droplets that threatened your eyes, determined to appreciate the view of him so close to you. “Just take it.”

He reached for your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek in a moment of tenderness.

“Ich werde.”

His tender grasp on your face dropped as he bent slightly, hungry hands slipping just below your ass to lift you up effortlessly. You laughed at his overzealous actions, the pleasant connection of comfort, trust and eager physicality not lost on you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, as you pulled yourself closer to him.

“I wanted to…” you collected yourself, sighing through the last of your giggles, “I was expecting you to let me go down on you, at least.”

König shook his head, brow furrowed.

“Why would I use your mouth when I can have your cunt?” He moved to press your back to the wall, trapping you between his body and the cool tile.

“Thought you loved my mouth.” You responded haughtily, looking up coyly through hooded eyes.

“Ja,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “But I like even more for you to use it to tell me how good I fuck you.”

You felt your cheeks burn, though the blush was due more to the way your heart pumped frantically in your chest rather than any embarrassment.

Your need for him was absolutely shameless.

König adjusted his grip, letting his hands hook beneath your thighs as he lifted you enough that your entrance was easily accessible to him where he had you against the wall.

“Hold on to me.” He commanded, focused on finally being able to thrust into you.

You didn’t need to be told twice, tightening your grip around him so that he could hold you comfortably in one hand and know that you were secure.

He reached between your bodies, tugging at his thick, leaking cock as he pressed his tip to your hole.

In a moment of clarity, his gaze drifted up to you, meeting your eyes with a look that read as pleading, and who were you to deny him his wishes? Doing so would only be denying you of your own, anyway.

You cupped his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss in lieu of a verbal confirmation that you were ready—but he knew, he always knew, and when he pushed his tongue between your lips so, too, did he push his cock into you.

You cried out. Already slick from his previous ministrations, he had little trouble thrusting into you. But his fingers paled in comparison to his cock, and to be stretched so intensely after such a long period of waiting made your fingers dig into his shoulders on their own accord.

But he liked the pain just as much as you did. Leaning forward to bury himself in you, he bottomed out with a grunt.

“You are—” he was at a loss for words, something that happened so consistently when he fucked you, but still something that made you swell with pride. “I have missed your cunt.”

“Use it, then,” you gasped when he bit a mark onto your breast, beginning to grind against him as best you could, “Show me—wanna feel it.”

König moaned, whiney and unrestrained, as he drew his hips back, pressing yours into the wall as he pulled out almost completely before slamming back into you roughly. You let out another cry for him, grasping at his biceps and tilting your head back.

“I will make you feel it, Kleine,” he grunted, repeating the action, “I will make sure.”

He settled on a less frenzied pace, bucking his hips into you while barely pulling back to ensure he stayed close. He craved your warmth; the heat of your body, the press of your chest to his, the vice-like grip you kept on his shoulders to make sure he stayed put, as if letting go meant he’d disappear.

The thought made him frustrated with himself—he never wanted to leave; he just had to. He had no choice but to submit to the whims of KorTac despite his unending want to do nothing but be near you.

But he would never abandon you as long as he lived, and he’d live as long as he could to ensure that you had anything and everything you wanted.

The rush of guilt eased into a shudder of pure devotion. He was here with you now; he had not a care in the world beyond watching you come undone over and over again.

“Ich liebe dich,” he leaned down to murmur the words into your jaw, letting his voice carry the short distance to your ear. “Ich liebe dich, meine Frau—meine Engel, meine Schatz.”

His head dropped to rest against your shoulder. You smiled at his words, tilting your face to press your cheek against his.

“I love you,” you whispered it, words meant only for him. “I love you. I’m so glad you’re home again.”

He whimpered softly, straightening up to capture your lips and lead you in a passionate kiss that only vaguely captured the increasing possessiveness of his thrusts.

It wasn’t out of an avidity to own you; he wanted you to see that you owned him, that he was yours, body and soul, and he’d do anything to provide comfort and pleasure and love for you.

You clawed at his back, rolling your hips in response to every one of his rough thrusts.

“I thought of you every day,” König’s head leaned back as he lost himself fully in the way your cunt felt around him, “You are on my mind always, Kleine—sheiße—I thought of you every moment. I think of you only.”

You mewled at his words and the depth of his strokes, working in tandem to push you quickly towards what would inevitably be a dizzying high.

“I thought about you all the time,” you whined through needy moans, “Always do, when you’re gone—needed you, needed you so badly.”

“You have me, Liebling,” he growled, “You will always have me.”

Again, his pace increased, and you were left clinging to him desperately, whimpering in his ear every time he nudged your cervix to the point of searing pleasure. One of his hands again snaked between your bodies, splaying over your stomach as his thumb stretched down to toy with your clit.

You bucked your hips, grinding against his cock as you eagerly accepted the friction he was providing you.

“Fuck—yeah,” you moaned, dropping your head to watch him play with you. “That’s—yeah, please, just like that.”

He laughed, smirking, as he pressed down harder on your clit.

“You are desperate, Kleine,” he accused you, lovingly, pointing out your frantic need. “Do you wish to finish so soon?”

He was teasing you now, and you could only whine out your reply.

“Said you’d give me anything…”

“Ja,” he mused, “And you, that I could take.”

He leaned into you again, practically flattening you between his body and the wall as he pushed his cock as deep as your body would allow.

“Will you let me take your pleasure, Liebe?” His lips ghosted over yours, “Bitte. Speak.”

“Ye—es,” you whimpered, “Yes. Please.”

He growled almost animalistically at your plea, slamming himself into you repeatedly as you remained at his mercy.

“I want it, Engel,” his voice carried an almost predatory tone, “I want for you to show me what I have missed so much—on my cock like this, you will give me what I want.”

You nodded dumbly at him, eyes closing slightly as your pupils rolled back at the way he matched the strokes of his thumb over your clit to the rhythm of his unforgiving thrusts. Your walls fluttered helplessly around him, right on the edge of the high you so craved.

When König nuzzled into your neck, juxtaposing the relentlessness of how he fucked you with such a tender display, your back arched, and all bets were off.

“Bitte, Liebling,” his voice was whinier now, tinged only slightly with a dominant edge but almost fully drowned out by desire. “Bitte, bitte—I need it, I need to feel you.”

He pressed down harshly against your clit, angling his body to ensure that his cock nudged the delicate spot at your front wall, and your body responded with shivering enthusiasm.

With a gasp, you could feel yourself cumming for him; tightness met with immediate fluidity, your muscles spasmed comfortably as you clung onto him through your high.

“Verdammt, ja—ja,” König grunted, hips stuttering in response to the way your cunt hugged him, pulling him back into you with every increasingly sloppy movement of his hips. “Gut, Liebe—fühlt sich gut an…”

“Your—you...” you gasped out, letting your words float onto his skin as you leaned into his chest. “Please…want it.”

You didn't have to specify; you both knew what it was you wanted.

“You want it?” König groaned a laugh, “You may have it, Liebling—I will—Gott, perfektes Mädchen—I will give it to you.”

He hugged you to his body, bringing you off the wall enough to slam you down onto his cock as he hurtled towards his own orgasm, rambling in two languages at once about nothing in particular except for how amazing you were; how much he adored you.

“I—I will give it to you, Kleine,” his tone was practically pleading, for no real reason other than to show you the urgency he felt to give you what you wanted and to have you take it from him. “T—take it from me as you would like—bitte, take it all.”

He moaned loudly for you as he came, spend coating your walls; the warmth made you shiver. When he pressed you back against the wall to rest, your shivering was only heightened by the chill that passed through you upon making contact with the tile again.

You took labored breaths, still tilting yourself forward to find comfort nuzzled against him.

After a moment of stillness, his cock still twitching inside of you amidst an atmosphere of pure, endearing intimacy, König spoke up.

“Do you believe we are clean now, Schatz?” He reached for your face, coaxing you to look at him.

He greeted you with a smirk that you returned, blissed out and content.

“Clean enough,” you laughed, “Though I think there’s a spot between my legs that might need a second swipe over with a washcloth.”

“No,” he tsked, purposefully adjusting himself to nestle his softening cock deeper inside of you. “You should not have to clean that yourself.”

You smiled, mewling softly when he readjusted your body in his arms. You pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck before letting your head settle properly on his shoulder.

“Getting all pruney,” you mumbled, “Should probably get out.”

“I will have to put you down, Kleine.” His smirk only widened as he spoke.

“But then you can pick me back up.” You pointed out.

He pretended to think for a moment before finally easing himself out of you with a hiss; you inhaled sharply, as if to protest the loss, but you didn't offer any verbal complaint. He helped you to your feet, an arm wrapped around you for support as you found your footing.

You stepped out of the shower once you stopped wobbling, leaving König to turn the water off. The slick between your thighs now more than obvious as you toweled off the beads of water still stuck to your skin. You had hardly begun investigating the stickiness between your legs, attempting to clean yourself up, when you felt his large hands on your waist again.

“Was machst du?” He had emerged, not stopping to dry off before he grabbed you, picking you up bridal style and looking down at you with wide eyes.

You wrapped your arms around him, unbothered by the notion that his hold on you would make the point of having toweled yourself off in the first place completely moot.

“Messy.” You made a face, legs fidgeting in emphasis of your point.

“I said you should not clean it yourself,” he scoffed, “My wife should not bother with such things.”

He began walking you to the bedroom, trying to shield you from the doorframes he passed through, though his large form ensured he did so rather clumsily.

“You gonna do it for me, then?” You quirked a brow, stifling a laugh when he bumped his elbow on the wall.

“Ja,” he spoke earnestly, “But I will not do it now.”

“No?” You smiled, “Why not?”

“Because it does not make sense to wash what I will only make a mess of again, Kleine.”

Before you could think of a snarky response, he dropped you gently onto the bed, clambering to join you; to give you more until you were properly sated, and then to do it all again.

☆Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi :)☆

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fic #call of duty smut #konig call of duty #konig #konig cod #colonel könig #konig smut #konig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you #cod #cod fanfic #cod smut

223 notes · View notes

pagesfromthevoid · 2 days ago

Note

I literally can't stop thinking about Thunderbolts and how emotional it is. I desperately want to eat snacks with Bob in his reading nook

OKAY BUT SAME. I have a book nook and I just KNOW that man is so content in his corner because it’s my favorite spot too. With one of those big comfy chaise chairs?? Hear me out….

For the first few months after the Incident™️ (as the Thunderbolts group chat has deemed it), Bob isn’t very social. He feels bad, and he’s waiting for any and all of this…niceness to go away.

It always does.

The one thing he finds solace in is this little corner by the window that he’s deemed his. At first, it’s just a pillow and some throw blankets he piles up and sits in because that’s all he really has. But then, a chaise chair shows up one day. Nothing fancy, but big enough for at least three people for some reason.

He tests the waters because he was really content with his little blanket corner. But the chair is really nice, and it’s so comfortable. And it’s nice to have because he sleeps better when he’s around the others so he naps whenever they’re around in the corner.

Then a bookshelf shows up. Not a big one. Just one of those Billy bookcases from IKEA. But it’s sitting there, with the stack of books he had collected set up neatly on it. There’s empty space for him to add more. It’s hard to focus on books for long periods of time but that’s okay, because now he can just…set them on the shelf.

More books show up slowly over time. Little sticky notes from the team on the covers, telling him they thought he’d like them (he uses them as bookmarks).

You leave him a book one day. Bright pink sticky note on the inside cover that says:

Thought of you when I saw the cover. I hope you like it. Let me know —I’m reading it too.

He has to out the note in the back because he gets distracted, reading it over and over instead of the actual book.

He’s about halfway through the book a month later, still trying to focus on it, when he finally feels like he can kind of talk about the book without sounding stupid.

He waits for you to walk by before he says anything.

“Hey, I’m —I’m almost done with that book,” he says, holding it up.

He swears to god that his heart melts when your entire mood shifts. You’re excited, and your smile is contagious and god, he made you smile like that? Can he keep doing that?

“I haven’t had a chance to read it in a week or so,” you explain, but you hold up a finger. “Give me a sec, I’ll be right back.”

And you are right back. Book in hand and a bag of chips. And you don’t even hesitate to take up the empty space next to him, opening to the last page you left on. Bob almost cries when he sees he’s only a chapter behind you.

“Catch up, and we can talk about it.” You offer, settling into the chaise —though you’re careful not to touch him. He appreciates that you don’t mind he’s a little alarmed by touch but he’s too happy to care. He settles in close to you, shoulder brushing yours gently.

The two of you are too absorbed in your book to notice that members of the team keep dropping things off on the shelf.

Yelena brings a bag of M&Ms. Ava two cups of tea. Bucky doesn’t leave anything, but he watches with a soft grin. They ban Alexei from bugging you two, but he leaves a pizza for actual dinner. And John is about to leave condoms —mostly as a joke —but Bucky smacks him upside the head. Then the arguing starts.

That’s what brings you two to attention for the first time in a few hours.

Bob wouldn’t trade it for the world though.

#bob reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x reader #bob reynolds #robert reynolds #sentry x reader #sentry

166 notes · View notes

honeydippedfiction · 3 days ago

Note

Can I get 15. "eyes open. keep looking." and 16. ^ and in the mirror--it's their large hand splayed across your abdomen, another wrapped around your perking nip. as they thrust into you, hard, slow, deep. their teeth sinking into ur neck.

with Joe and Angel, I just know they're nastyyy🤪

Listened to ‘Maybe’ by Teyana Taylor while writing this so everyone say thank you Teyana for the inspo

1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents

#15. "eyes open. keep looking." & #16. and in the mirror--it's their large hand splayed across your abdomen, another wrapped around your perking nip. as they thrust into you, hard, slow, deep. their teeth sinking into ur neck.

Joe Burrow x Angel

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

It was supposed to be a chill weekend.

With baby Zariyah gone to spend two blissful days with Joe’s parents—Robin and Jimmy, who were beyond thrilled to take over spoiling duties—the Burrow household had finally fallen into rare, golden silence. No bottles to warm, no 3 a.m. wake-up cries, no schedules to juggle. Just peace. Glorious peace.

Joe had made plans, quiet ones. Sleep in. Watch a little film. Maybe grill something. Wrap Angel in a blanket and cuddle until neither of them knew what day it was. It was supposed to be recovery—for both of them.

But by noon, Joe was starting to realize something: Angel had no intention of letting him enjoy any of it.

From the moment she rolled over that morning, her attitude had been locked in. Petty. Sharp. The kind of bratty that didn’t come from actual frustration—it came from intent.

“You breathing loud again,” she muttered from her side of the bed, voice low and gravelly with sleep, but lined with attitude like sharp eyeliner.

Joe blinked, still half-asleep. “What?”

“I said you breathing loud. Sound like a busted radiator.”

He frowned, turning his head toward her on the pillow. “I was asleep.”

“Exactly.” She yanked the blanket tighter around her like he’d committed some great offense simply by existing.

Joe stared at the ceiling for a long beat. Okay…

He let it slide. For now.

The day went on like that. Little digs. Passive-aggressive comments with a smile. Petty nonsense that she served up like appetizers at a dinner party. At first, Joe let it slide. He knew Angel. Knew when she got this way it was usually about something deeper—or nothing at all. But this time, there was no mystery. No hidden frustration. She was just… acting up.

On purpose.

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ

Later, he padded into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, hoping coffee might at least smooth things over.

Angel was already there. Perched on the counter in one of his old LSU hoodies—bare-legged, smug, and scrolling her phone like she was too cute to be guilty. She sipped from her mug without looking up.

“Morning,” Joe offered.

She made a noncommittal sound in response. Something between a hum and a hmmph.

He tried again. “I made coffee. Want some of mine?”

She finally looked up, blinking slow. “Did you put that dusty almond milk in it?”

“No. I used the new one.”

She took a sip of her own drink, then wrinkled her nose dramatically. “Well, mine still nasty. Probably your fault. You opened the fridge too long yesterday.”

Joe squinted. “What does that even mean?”

“Means now everything taste like fridge air and disappointment.” She hopped down, walked past him, and added, just loud enough, “Don’t nobody ask you to help and you still messing stuff up.”

Joe turned, confused, but she was already halfway back to the living room.

That was round one.

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ

An hour later, Joe tried to lose himself in film. He pulled up Week 5’s offensive breakdown and plugged in his AirPods. Angel was curled up on the couch beside him, allegedly watching TV—but what she was really doing was finding ways to drive him to the brink of madness without ever raising her voice.

First, she stole the throw blanket from his lap with no explanation.

Then, she took the last two slices of the cinnamon toast she knew he had been saving.

And finally, when he got up to go switch the laundry over, he came back to find the remote gone.

“Angel.”

She didn’t look up from her phone. “Hmm?”

“Where’s the remote?”

“Oh.” She paused for a beat, chewing her nail. “I think I dropped it behind the couch.”

Joe gave her a look. “You think?”

“Or maybe I put it in the laundry basket with the whites. Thought it was a sock.”

He stared at her, deadpan. “You put the remote control in the laundry?”

She shrugged with the exact amount of indifference that could drive a man to madness. “Don’t act like you use it. You just watch the same plays over and over. Ball. Throw. Catch. Repeat.”

He took a slow breath. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Angel turned her head and finally gave him her full attention. That familiar gleam was in her eyes—trouble, dressed up as flirtation. “I do. Question is… do you?”

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ

Later that morning, Joe tried to get a jump on laundry while Angel scrolled through her phone on the couch, pretending not to watch him.

He held up one of his favorite hoodies—the gray Bengals one with the frayed cuffs.

“Why is this in the bottom of the hamper?”

Angel barely glanced over. “Zariyah spit up on it. I used it to wipe the floor.”

Joe looked at her like she’d just confessed to a crime. “You used this as a mop?”

“It was right there,” she said with a shrug. “Quick reflexes. You should be proud.”

“That hoodie is from my rookie year.”

“And? You got a whole closet of free gear. You’ll live.”

Joe closed his eyes and took a slow breath. She’s trying to get under your skin, he reminded himself. Don’t let her win.

He tossed the hoodie back into the hamper and walked away.

Angel smirked.

Round one: her.

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ

By early afternoon, Joe was back on the couch, trying to reset the day. He figured if he could just carve out an hour—maybe two—to review some film, he could salvage some peace. Angel had drifted into her own little world, tucked into the corner of the sectional with snacks and a blanket, one leg draped over the armrest like she owned the place. Which, in many ways, she did.

Joe slipped on his noise-canceling headphones, pulled up game tape from Week 5 on his iPad, and settled in. All he needed was silence. Just enough to dissect a few coverages, double-check a couple reads.

But it didn’t take long for Angel’s show—some chaotic reality series where every scene sounded like a wine-fueled argument— to start bleeding through the headphones.

He paused the video with a sigh, pulling one earbud off. “Babe,” he said, turning toward her, “can you turn that down just a little?”

Angel didn’t even glance at the remote. “You got headphones in.”

“They’re noise-canceling,” he said, with measured patience, “not chaos-canceling.”

Angel slowly turned her head, one brow raised with deliberate sass. “You mad because my show got drama or because yours is boring?”

Joe blinked. “I’m mad because I can’t hear my tight end’s route because some girl named Shayla is screaming about her eyelash business.”

She scoffed, unapologetic. “Well, maybe Shayla got bills to pay. Unlike some people, she can’t afford to sit around analyzing football all day.”

Joe’s jaw ticked. “I don’t sit around, Angel. This is my job.”

Angel fluffed her pillow, adjusting it behind her like she was settling in for a long, loud binge. “Mmm. And this is my couch. I pay rent in sass and vibes.”

Joe dropped his head back with an exasperated groan. “I’m not asking you to go mute. Just lower the volume like… two notches.”

She turned back to the screen and, with all the exaggerated flair in the world, hit the volume up instead. The surround sound blared a high-pitched “YOU AIN’T GON’ DISRESPECT ME IN MY HOUSE” from Shayla, just to hammer it in.

“Seriously?” he said, sitting up straighter.

“Seriously,” she echoed, cool and unbothered. “But feel free to go in the guest room if it’s that serious.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

Angel finally glanced over again. Her expression was smug, unbothered, her whole body language reading what are you gonna do about it?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, voice saccharine. “I’m just minding my business. Watching my stories.”

Joe stared at her, the tension starting to settle into his shoulders. Not angry—but definitely annoyed. She knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t just being difficult. She was playing with him. Poking the bear. Testing how far she could go before he snapped.

Round two?

Definitely hers again.

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ

A few minutes passed. Joe didn’t bother restarting the film. He knew there was no point. Angel had kicked her feet up now, her legs stretched out across the cushions like a queen on her throne. She reached into the bag of Hot Cheetos next to her, crunching obnoxiously as she side-eyed him through her lashes.

“Hey,” she said, casual as ever.

“What?” he muttered.

“You left the fridge open earlier. Everything’s warm now. Might wanna double-check your almond milk before you start blaming me again.”

Joe turned his head slowly. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m adorable,” she corrected.

“You’re a menace.”

Angel smirked, licking red dust from her fingers. “And yet… you still married me.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but then stopped himself, catching the way her lips curled at the corners—the faintest glint of challenge in her eyes. She was baiting him. Hard. And the worst part? She was enjoying every second of it.

That realization settled in his chest like a match on dry leaves.

She wanted a reaction.

And if she kept going like this… she was going to get one.

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ

By dinnertime, Joe was running on fumes.

The kind of mental exhaustion that didn’t come from workouts or playbooks, but from one beautiful, petty little storm of a woman who had clearly made it her mission to test every ounce of his restraint.

He’d stayed calm longer than he thought possible. All day, Angel had poked, pushed, and prodded. The smirks. The side-eyes. The backhanded compliments. And the worst part? She did it all with that same effortless confidence, like she was swatting flies for sport.

He walked into the kitchen with the vague hope that a quiet meal might buy him a few minutes of peace. Maybe food would reset the mood. Ground them both.

But the second he opened the fridge, that idea died.

There, stacked neatly on the top shelf, were three sushi containers. His favorites, even. Tuna, shrimp tempura, avocado rolls. Perfectly chilled. Perfectly untouched.

But there were only three containers—and none of them were for him.

“You ordered food?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Mmhmm.” Angel didn’t even look up from her phone. She was sitting at the table, one leg crossed over the other, typing away like she hadn’t just committed the ultimate disrespect.

Joe shut the fridge door slowly, deliberately. “And didn’t get me anything?”

“You were busy,” she replied with a nonchalant shrug. “Didn’t want to interrupt your little quarterback study session.”

Joe turned, leveling a look at her. “I’ve been home. All. Day.”

She glanced up then, smile faint and maddeningly fake. “I didn’t think you’d want sushi. You’re always talking about mercury levels. Brain health. All that boring stuff.”

He walked over to the table, jaw tight, frustration starting to simmer just beneath his carefully built surface. He didn’t speak right away—just stared at her, like he was trying to read between the lines of her expression.

Angel finally set her phone down, folded her arms, and met his gaze head-on.

“You’ve been doing this on purpose,” he said.

She tilted her head, mock-innocent. “Doing what?”

“Acting like a brat. All day. You’ve been trying to piss me off.”

Angel leaned back in her chair slowly, the smugness in her expression blooming like a satisfied cat. “Maybe I have,” she said. “What you gonna do about it?”

Joe stepped in, closing some of the space between them, shoulders squaring. “Why?”

She stood up too—deliberate, calm. Not backing down, not flinching. She moved toward him like a challenge incarnate, the edge of her voice dropping into something softer, silkier, yet still taunting.

“Because,” she said, stopping just inches from him, “you’ve been walking around here all peaceful and patient. Quiet. Like you don’t see me. Like I’m just background noise.”

Joe blinked. “You think I don’t see you?”

“I know you do.” Her voice dipped lower now. “But you’ve been treating me like I’m some tired wife with spit-up on her shirt and oatmeal in her hair. I wanted to remind you I’m still me. I still need attention.”

“This was your way of asking for attention?” he asked, voice low, incredulous.

Angel smiled then—but it wasn’t sweet. It was the kind of smile that came with danger. Daring. A trap that she knew he would step into. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Joe stared at her, jaw clenching harder. “You really wanna test me right now?”

Angel lifted her chin, gaze steady, unblinking. “I’ve been testing you all day, baby. The real question is—how long you gonna let me?”

That was it.

That was the moment the tension snapped like a stretched rubber band. Joe moved before he had time to think it through. One hand gripped her waist, yanking her close. The other slid up the back of her neck, into the thick curls she’d piled into a loose bun that was now slipping free.

His voice dropped, rough and warning. “You sure you’re ready for what you’ve been begging for?”

Her breath hitched—but there was no fear in her face. Just desire. Hunger. Victory. She’d poked the bear until it finally turned—and she loved that it was her who brought it out.

“I’ve been ready, Joseph,” she whispered, voice velvet. “You’re the one who's been dragging your feet.”

His eyes darkened. “Say one more slick thing.”

Angel’s grin widened, slow and triumphant. “Make me.”

And that was all he needed.

Joe didn’t just respond—he reacted. He pulled her flush against him, locking her in place with the kind of intensity he’d been holding back all day. Every little comment, every eye-roll, every subtle jab had been leading to this. She’d wanted the fire behind the calm. The man behind the quarterback.

And now she had him.

Fully.

Completely.

Undeniably.

Angel had pushed every button he had. Poked every nerve. And now, as she found herself exactly where she wanted to be—held in place, breath short, eyes wide with anticipation—she knew one thing for certain.

She was finally being put back in her place.

And she was loving every second of it.

Joe moved his hand from the nape of her neck to the front of her throat—not gripping, not squeezing, just placing it there. Wrapping around it. Not enough to even slightly cut off her air supply, but enough to make it clear that he could.

It was enough to send a wave of heat straight to her core.

“You wanna play this game, babygirl?” he murmured, eyes boring into hers. “You think you can take it?”

“I know I can,” she replied, voice steady despite the tremble in her legs. She couldn’t help but smirk. “In fact, I’m gonna win it.”

That earned a snort from Joe, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Big words for someone who can’t even last five minutes without running that pretty little mouth of hers.”

Angel felt the challenge spark between them, hot and immediate. “Then why don’t you shut me up?” she said, voice dropping to a taunt. “If you can.”

Something feral lit in Joe’s eyes, and before Angel could take another breath, she was being turned around, her back flush against his chest. She could feel his erection pressing against her lower back, hard and thick through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. His hand stayed at her throat, keeping her in place, while the other gripped her hip, holding her close.

“Is this what you wanted?” Joe growled, his breath hot against her ear. “You wanted me to lose control, didn’t you? You wanted me to snap.”

Angel licked her lips, her heart pounding. “Maybe I did,” she breathed. “Maybe I wanted to see the real Joe. Not the controlled quarterback, not the calm, composed husband. I wanted the man underneath it all.”

She could feel his grip tighten on her hip, his fingers digging into her skin. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he warned. “The man underneath it all? He’s not always pretty. He’s got rough edges, dirty thoughts, and a hunger that never quite goes away.”

Angel shivered, a thrill running down her spine. “Then show me,” she whispered. “Show me all of it.”

Joe let out a low growl, his hand moving from her hip to the front of her thighs, pushing them apart. “Spread your legs,” he ordered, and Angel complied without hesitation, her breath coming faster now.

His hand slid up, fingers tracing along the seam of her leggings, finding the wet spot between her legs. “Look at you,” he murmured. “Already soaked for me, aren’t you? So ready to be fucked.”

Angel couldn’t speak, her voice caught in her throat. All she could do was nod, her hips moving involuntarily against his hand.

Joe chuckled, the sound low and dark. “But you don’t get to come that easy, babygirl. Not this time. This time, you’re gonna work for it.”

Angel felt a surge of heat at his words, but she couldn’t help but push a little more. “Work for it?” she repeated, glancing at him over her shoulder. “I thought you were going to shut me up, not make me work.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in them. “That’s it,” he growled. In one swift motion, he picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. Angel let out a surprised squeal, her legs kicking instinctively.

“Joe! What the hell—”

But he ignored her protests, carrying her out of the dining room and down the hall to their bedroom. Angel’s heart raced, her mind buzzing with anticipation and excitement. She’d pushed him, and now he was pushing back.

Hard.

Joe kicked the bedroom door open, then slammed it shut behind him. He set Angel down on her feet, then sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at her with dark, hungry eyes.

“Strip,” he said, his voice low, not playing around.

Angel felt a shiver run down her spine, but she didn’t hesitate. She reached for the hem of her shirt, slowly lifting it over her head. Joe’s eyes followed her every move, drinking in the sight of her exposed skin.

“Faster,” he ordered, his voice rough.

Angel bit her lip, her hands moving to the waistband of her leggings. She hooked her thumbs underneath and began to push them down, slowly revealing her panties. Joe’s eyes locked onto the sight, his jaw clenching.

“Keep going,” he said, his voice strained.

Angel stepped out of her leggings, then reached back to unclasp her bra. She let it fall to the floor, her breasts bouncing free. Joe’s gaze was fixed on them, his eyes dark with desire.

“Panties too,” he said, his voice husky.

Angel complied, sliding her panties down her legs and stepping out of them. She stood before him completely naked, her heart pounding, her body trembling with anticipation.

Joe didn’t move for a long moment, just looked at her, his eyes roaming over every inch of her exposed skin. Angel felt exposed, vulnerable, but also incredibly turned on. She’d never seen Joe look at her like this before, with such raw, unfiltered desire.

“Come here,” he finally said, his voice low.

Angel took a step forward, her legs trembling. Joe reached out, gripping her hips and pulling her closer. He looked up at her, his eyes locked on hers.

“You wanted to know the real me?” he said, his voice dark. “This is it. This is the man you married. Now bend over my knee.”

Angel felt a surge of excitement mixed with a hint of fear. She knew what Joe had in mind, and while part of her was nervous, another part of her—the part that had been poking and prodding all day—was eager to see where this would go.

She bent over Joe’s knee, her ass up in the air, her face burning. Joe’s hand rubbed over her buttocks, the touch firm but gentle.

“You ready, babygirl?” he asked, his voice low.

“Ready for what?” Angel shot back, her sass coming through even in her vulnerable position.

Joe’s hand stilled, then he brought it down hard on her ass. Angel let out a yelp, her body jerking at the sudden impact.

“What was that?” Joe asked, his voice firm.

Angel bit her lip, trying to catch her breath. “I’m ready,” she said, her voice muffled.

Joe’s hand rubbed over the spot he’d just spanked, the touch soothing. “Good girl,” he murmured. Then, without warning, he brought his hand down again, this time on her other cheek.

Angel let out a moan, her hips moving instinctively. Joe spanked her again, and again, each blow landing in a different spot. Angel’s ass began to burn, the pain mixing with pleasure.

“You gonna keep being a brat?” Joe asked, his hand pausing to rub over her heated skin.

Angel nodded, her eyes squeezing shut. “Yes,” she whispered.

Joe let out a low laugh. “We’ll see about that,” he said. And then he started again, his hand coming down hard and fast, alternating between her cheeks.

Angel’s moans filled the room, her body jerking with each impact. The pain was intense, but so was the pleasure. She could feel her pussy throbbing, wetness dripping down her thighs.

After what felt like an eternity, Joe stopped. Angel lay over his knee, panting, her ass on fire.

“How many was that?” Joe asked, his hand rubbing over her sore skin.

Angel tried to think, but her mind was fuzzy. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted.

Joe let out a sigh. “Then I guess we’ll have to start over,” he said.

Angel groaned, but before she could protest, Joe started again. This time, he made her count out loud.

“One,” she said after the first spank. “Two,” after the second. She made it all the way to eight before losing count again.

Joe sighed again. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”

Angel shook her head, her face burning with embarrassment.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Joe said. “So for every time you lose count, you get five more.”

Angel groaned again, but didn’t protest. She knew she’d asked for this, and a part of her wanted it—wanted to be pushed, wanted to feel the sting of Joe’s hand on her ass.

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ

Joe made her start over three more times before he finally stopped. By then, Angel’s ass was bright red, the skin hot to the touch. She lay over his knee, breathing hard, her body trembling.

Joe’s hand moved over her sore flesh, then dipped between her legs. Angel let out a gasp as his fingers traced over her slit, feeling her wetness.

“You’re soaked,” Joe murmured, his fingers teasing her entrance. “So wet for me, even after all that.”

“You want to come, babygirl?” Joe asked, his fingers continuing their torment. He circled her clit with one fingertip, feather-light. Angel jerked at the touch, a small sound escaping her.

“Yes,” she said quickly. “Please, I need it.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dark. “I know what you need. But do you know what I need?” He didn’t wait for her to respond, dipping two fingers inside her again. Angel’s back arched, a whimper escaping her lips.

“You need to admit it,” Joe continued, his fingers moving just enough to tease but not enough to satisfy. “Tell me what you are.”

Angel frowned, confusion cutting through the haze of pleasure. “What I am? What are you—”

“You know what I’m talking about,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “Tell me why you’ve been acting out all day.”

Angel bit her lip, trying to focus through the pleasure. “Because I… I wanted your attention?” It came out like a question, uncertain.

Joe shook his head, fingers stilling. “No, that’s not it. Try again.”

She squirmed under him, trying to get him to move his fingers. “I was bored?”

Another shake of his head. “Wrong again.”

“Then tell me!” Angel snapped, frustration mounting.

Joe leaned down, his face inches from hers. “You’re a brat, Angel. You love pushing my buttons because you want me to put you in your place. You want me to remind you who’s in charge. Admit it.”

Angel glared up at him, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of anger and desire. “Fuck you, Joseph.”

But even as she said it, she knew he was right. She had wanted to push him. She’d craved this—his intensity, his dominance. She’d missed it, truth be told. With the baby, they hadn’t had much time for anything like this. And she’d been getting a little… restless.

Joe’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t get angry like she expected. Instead, he just sighed, resigned. “Alright, Angel. If that’s how you want to play it…” He pulled his fingers out of her, ignoring her whimper of protest.

“Joe, wait—” but she didn’t get to finish. In one smooth move, he threw her to land in the middle of their bed, flipped over on her back, pulling her to the edge. Before she could even process the move, he’d knelt on the floor.

He found his home between her thighs, and he made sure she knew it. Every lick, every suck, every tease was deliberate. It was a promise of what was to come—and a punishment for what she’d put him through. Angel had wanted a reaction? She had it. And more was yet to come.

Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him grunt against her pussy. The sound vibrated through her, drawing a guttural moan from her throat. He licked a broad stripe from her entrance to her clit, slow, savoring the taste of her. The way she shuddered, the way her breath caught—it was all fuel to the fire he’d been stoking all day.

Angel gasped, hips bucking involuntarily. Joe’s hands clamped down on them, holding her still with a grip that was anything but gentle. She tried to move, to grind against his mouth, but he was immovable. His control was absolute—and she hated how much it turned her on.

“Joe, please—” she broke off with a sharp cry as he sucked her clit between his lips, tongue flicking mercilessly. Her thighs trembled around his head, the muscles taut with the effort of staying still.

He pulled away, a string of spit still connecting his lips to her pussy. “Please, what? Tell me exactly what you want, Angel.” His voice was a dark rumble, eyes glinting with a mixture of desire and something far more dangerous.

Angel’s chest heaved, trying to catch her breath. “I want—I need—” She couldn’t find the words, her mind a haze of pleasure and need. But she didn’t have to find them. Because Joe knew. He always knew.

And with that, he leaned down and licked a long, hot stripe from her entrance to her clit. Angel cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Joe didn’t stop there. He continued to lick and suck her, his tongue delving inside her and then moving up to circle her clit. Angel writhed beneath him, her hips bucking up to meet his mouth.

“Joe,” she cried. “Oh god, Joe. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Joe hummed against her, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure through her body. He continued to eat her out, his tongue and lips working her into a frenzy.

Angel was close, so close. She could feel her orgasm building, coiling tight in her belly. She was almost there, just a little more…

But then Joe pulled away. Angel cried out in frustration, her hips chasing his mouth. But Joe held her down, his grip firm on her thighs.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice husky. “You don’t get to come yet, babygirl. You have to wait until I say so.”

Angel whined, her entire body shaking with need. “Please, Daddy,” she begged. “I need to come. Please let me come.”

Joe smirked, his thumb brushing over her clit. “Not yet, we have all night. And I plan to take my time with you,” he repeated. “But soon. I promise.”

Without another word, he dove back in. This time, there was nothing teasing about it. It was all consuming, relentless. His tongue worked her clit in tight, focused circles while his fingers pressed inside her, curling just so. Angel arched off the bed, back bowed in a perfect arc of pleasure.

“Yes, yes, yes—” she chanted, hips moving of their own accord now. Joe let her, one hand releasing her hip to grip her thigh instead, spreading her wider. He sucked her clit harder, fingers thrusting in time with his tongue.

She was close. So close. She could feel it building, that coiling tension in her lower belly, the sparks of pleasure that started at her core and spread out to her fingertips. She was almost there—

Joe stopped. Pulled back completely, leaving her empty and gasping. His fingers slipped out of her with a wet sound that made her face burn with embarrassment and need.

She propped herself up on her elbows, glaring at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious.” He leaned in, crowding her space until she was flat on her back again. His weight pressed her into the mattress, his erection hard against her hip. “You’ve been a little brat all day, Angel. Pushing my buttons, testing my patience.” He nipped her lower lip, none too gently. “Now it’s time to take your punishment.”

Angel’s breath hitched, a thrill of excitement mixed with trepidation racing through her. She knew that tone, that look in his eyes. He wasn’t joking. And as much as she wanted to keep pushing, to see how far she could go… part of her wanted this. Wanted to give in, to let him take control.

Because when Joe took control, it was never just about him. It was about her pleasure, her needs, her desires. It was about pushing her boundaries and bringing her to heights she hadn’t known existed. It was about trust and vulnerability and connection on a level that transcended the physical.

And right now, she wanted that connection more than she wanted to keep fighting.

She whined in frustration, her hips bucking against his hand. “Please touch me,” she begged. “Please make me come.”

Joe’s chuckle was dark and sinful. “You’ll come when I’m good and ready for you to come,” he said. “Now be a good girl and take what I give you.”

Joe didn’t let her rest for long. His hand slipped between her legs, his fingers finding her clit. Angel let out a moan, her head falling back.

Angel wanted to argue, wanted to push back, but the way Joe’s fingers were moving between her legs made it impossible for her to think straight. She could feel her orgasm building, could feel it just out of reach, and she was desperate for it.

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ

Joe kept her on edge for what felt like hours, his fingers teasing her, bringing her close to the edge, only to pull back every time. His mouth found her, tasting her, devouring her, but always stopping just before she could tip over into climax. He played her body like an instrument, knowing exactly which buttons to press, which strings to pull.

He looked up at her, lips glistening, eyes dark with lust and a hint of amusement. “What’s wrong, baby? Cat got your tongue?”

Angel groaned, frustration and desire warring inside her. “Why did you stop?”

Joe sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Because you were about to cum. And you don’t get to cum until I say so.” His voice was calm, almost conversational. But there was an undercurrent of steel in it that made Angel shiver.

He started again, this time with fingers first. Two, thrusting deep, while his mouth found her clit. Angel’s head fell back, a low moan escaping her. He was relentless, working her up again with practiced ease. She was sensitive now, her nerves alight with the aftershocks of her interrupted orgasm.

This time, when she started to get close, she felt it sooner. The tension built faster, the pleasure sharper. Joe noticed it too. He could read her body like a book, every twitch, every tremor. And when she was on the edge, he pulled back again.

Angel whimpered, hands reaching for him. “Joe, please—I need it. I need to cum.”

He caught her wrists, pinning them beside her head. “You need to learn your place. You think you can push me around all day and then just get your reward? That’s not how this works.”

His hips settled between hers, the hard length of his erection pressed against her thigh. Angel tried to tilt her hips, to get that friction where she needed it most. But Joe held her still, her wrists immovable in his grip.

Angel bit her lip. She wanted to come so badly, but a part of her didn’t want to give in. “I… I…”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter, babygirl? Too fucked out to speak? What happened to all that back talk earlier?”

Angel glared at him. “I don’t want to admit it.”

Joe shrugged. “Then you don’t get to come.”

Angel let out a frustrated growl. “That’s not fair,” she said, stamping her foot.

Joe chuckled. “Life’s not fair,” he said. “But if you’re a good girl and admit what you are, I might let you come on my cock.”

Angel’s eyes widened. The thought of taking Joe’s thick length after all this foreplay was too tempting to resist. Slowly, she nodded.

“I’m a brat,” she said, her voice soft.

Joe smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Good girl,” he praised. Then he stood up, lifting Angel onto her feet. He kissed her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth.

When he pulled back, Angel was breathless. “Now,” Joe said, his voice low. He began to strip off his clothes, his eyes never leaving Angel’s. Once he was naked, he laid back on the bed, his back against the headboard.

“Come prove to me you’re sorry,” he said, his cock hard and ready.

Angel didn’t hesitate. She crawled up the bed, straddling Joe’s hips. She reached between them, gripping his length and lining him up with her entrance. But before she could sink down onto him, Joe gripped her hips, stopping her.

“Only good girls get to look at my face,” he said, his eyes dark. “Turn around and watch yourself in the mirror.”

Angel bit her lip but complied, turning her back to Joe. He helped her, placing his hands on her hips and lifting her, then turning her so she faced the mirror that hung on the wall across from the bed.

Angel’s breath caught as she caught sight of herself—naked, legs spread, Joe’s thick cock nestled between her thighs. Joe’s hands gripped her hips, holding her in place.

“Bend forward,” he ordered.

Angel did as she was told, bending at the waist. Joe’s cock slid between her legs, the head catching on her entrance.

“Now ride me like you mean it,” Joe said, his voice rough. “Show me how sorry you are for being a brat all day.”

Angel didn’t need to be told twice. She slid down onto Joe’s cock, taking him to the hilt. The stretch burned, but it was a good kind of pain. She began to move, lifting herself up and sliding back down.

Joe let out a groan, his hands gripping her hips tighter. “That’s it, babygirl,” he praised. “Just like that. Show me what a good wife you can be.”

Angel rode him hard, her hips slapping against his. She could see herself in the mirror, her tits bouncing, her face flushed with pleasure. Behind her, Joe was moaning, his hips meeting her thrust for thrust. Suddenly, his hand came down on her ass, the slap ringing out in the room.

Angel yelped but didn’t stop moving. Instead, she rode him faster, her pussy clenching around his cock. Joe spanked her again and again, the pain mixing with the pleasure.

“Talked so much shit,” Joe growled in her ear, “now look at you. Taking my cock like a good little slut. This all you needed, baby? Your husband to fuck the brattiness out of you?”

“Yes,” Angel breathed. She was close, so close. She could feel her orgasm building, coiling tight in her belly.

Joe’s hand gripped the back of her neck, pulling her up until she was laying back against his chest. His other hand slid around to her front, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed her in fast circles as he fucked up into her, deep and slow.

Angel could feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. The pleasure was overwhelming, too much and not enough all at once. “Joe,” she begged. “Please, I need to come.”

“You need to come?” Joe repeated, his voice mocking. “Well, that’s too bad. I don’t think you deserve it.”

Angel let out a sob, her hips moving faster. “Please,” she begged again. “I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll be the best wife, the best girl. Just please let me come.”

Joe reached his other hand up, wrapping it around her throat. He slowed his thrusts, fucking into her with long, deep strokes. “Hmmm, are you done being a brat?” he asked.

Angel nodded frantically, her eyes wide. “Yes,” she said, her voice choked. “I’m done, I promise. Please, Joe. Please let me come.”

Joe chuckled, the sound dark. “Such a good girl now, aren’t you?” he murmured. “Eyes open. Keep looking.”

Angel did as she was told, her eyes opening to look at her reflection in the mirror. She saw the large hand splayed across her lower abdomen, the other wrapped around her throat. She saw Joe’s broad chest behind her, his muscles rippling as he moved. She saw his thick cock, buried deep inside her pussy.

And she saw his eyes, dark and intense, locked on hers in the mirror.

“Good girl,” Joe praised, his hips never stopping. “Keep those eyes open. Keep watching yourself get fucked. Watch yourself come undone on my cock.”

Angel couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. She was mesmerized by the sight of herself, by the pleasure coursing through her body. Joe’s hand on her throat tightened slightly, and his fingers on her clit moved faster. His teeth sank into her neck, biting down on the sensitive skin.

“Come for me, babygirl. Show me how much you love your punishment.”

Angel couldn’t hold back anymore. She came hard, her eyes rolling back in her head, her scream echoing off the walls. She squirted all over Joe’s cock, her juices flowing out of her and down his balls.

Joe groaned at the feel of her coming, his fingers never stopping on her clit. He kept rubbing her, drawing out her orgasm until she was a shaking, sobbing mess in his arms. Then, after a few more thrusts, he came too, his seed shooting deep inside her.

Angel collapsed against him, her body spent. Joe wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. They stayed like that for a long moment, both breathing hard. Slowly, Joe released his hold on her throat, his fingers gently massaging the skin. He pressed a kiss to her neck, then her shoulder.

“Good girl. There’s the woman I married,” he murmured again.

Angel smiled, her body lax against his. “Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet.

Joe chuckled. “For what? Fucking you into next week?”

Angel laughed. “No, for putting me in my place.”

Joe pulled out of her, then turned her in his arms. He looked down at her, his eyes softening. “You’re perfect just the way you are,” he said. “Brattiness and all.”

Then Joe gently lifted her off his cock and laid her down on the bed beside him.

He pulled her into his arms, kissing her softly. “You okay, baby?” he asked, his thumb rubbing over her cheek.

Angel nodded, snuggling closer to him. “I’m perfect,” she said, her voice filled with satisfaction.

Joe chuckled. “Good,” he said. Then, after a moment, “You’re still a brat, though.”

Angel laughed, slapping his chest lightly. “Shut up.”

Joe just grinned, kissing the top of her head. “I love you, baby,” he said softly.

Angel looked up at him, her eyes shining. “I love you too.”

As they laid there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, Angel knew that she’d gotten exactly what she needed. She’d needed Joe to put her back in her place, to remind her who was in charge. And he’d done just that.

But more than that, she’d needed to be reminded that no matter what, Joe would always love her. That he would always be there for her, even when she was being difficult. That their love was strong enough to withstand anything, even a bratty wife.

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ

Just as Angel’s eyes began to flutter shut, the soft haze of sleep tugging at her, she felt herself being lifted gently off the bed. Joe’s strong arms wrapped around her, his chest warm against her cheek as he cradled her with practiced ease. She murmured something unintelligible, half-protest, half-contentment, but he only kissed the top of her head and kept walking.

The en-suite bathroom was softly lit, the overhead light dimmed to a golden glow that made the marble countertops gleam. Steam curled up from the large soaking tub, where fragrant bubbles danced on the surface of the water. Lavender and eucalyptus filled the air, wrapping around them like a warm embrace.

Joe knelt beside the tub and slowly lowered her into the water, careful to ease her in rather than startle her with the heat. Angel let out a long, luxurious sigh as the warmth seeped into her muscles, dissolving the aches of the day. Her head fell back against the edge of the tub, her curls brushing the porcelain.

“Hold still,” Joe said gently, grabbing a silk scrunchie from the counter. He gathered her curls with care, tying them up into a loose bun to keep them from the water. “There we go. Perfect.”

She watched him move around the bathroom, his steps quiet but purposeful. When he turned toward the door presumably to go change the sheets on their bed, she made a small noise of protest, eyes fluttering open again.

Joe paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “Shhh,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I’ll be right back, baby. Just gonna get the bed ready.”

She let him go, the sound of his footsteps fading. In the silence, the soft pop of bubbles breaking on the surface of the water became almost meditative. The warmth, the scent, the quiet—she could’ve stayed there forever.

But only a few minutes passed before he was back, stepping carefully into the room with two tall glasses of ice water balanced in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Hydration, my love,” he said, placing the glasses on the ledge within reach. Then, with a contented groan, he climbed into the tub behind her, water lapping up the sides as his weight settled in.

Angel shifted slightly, nestling herself between his thighs, her back resting against his chest. Joe’s arms came around her, one hand finding hers under the water, fingers intertwining.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then nuzzled into the curve of her neck. “Music?”

“Anything,” she murmured, her voice nearly a whisper.

Joe chuckled against her skin, the vibration of it soothing. “Dangerous thing to say to a man with questionable taste.”

“You’re lucky I’m too relaxed to argue,” she said, smiling sleepily.

He opened his music app and started scrolling. “Let’s see… Jazz? R&B? Or are you in one of those movie-soundtrack-mood kind of nights?”

“Surprise me.”

He started reading off a few titles, his voice deep and warm, the cadence of it washing over her. By the time he settled on a mellow playlist and set the phone aside, her eyelids were already growing heavy again.

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ

Minutes passed—or maybe longer—and eventually Joe reached in front her and pulled the plug. The water gurgled and swirled, draining away in a slow spiral. Angel shivered as the steam dissipated and the cool air of the bathroom returned.

Without a word, Joe stood and stepped out, wrapping himself in a towel before returning to help her up. He grabbed a warm towel from the towel warmer and wrapped it snugly around her, patting her skin dry with gentle hands. “You good?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers.

She nodded, still wordless, letting him take care of her.

He lifted her again, as easily as if she weighed nothing at all, and carried her back to the bedroom where the bed now lay freshly made, the sheets crisp and cool. He laid her down carefully, smoothing a hand over her back before returning to the bathroom to hang the towels.

When he came back, he had the ointment in hand. Angel was already on her stomach, her arms tucked under her pillow. He sat beside her, uncapping the bottle, and squeezed a generous amount into his palm. The smell of menthol mixed with something floral rose into the air. He rubbed a generous amount onto her ass, the coolness of the ointment soothing the heat there.

She winced at first as he began to rub it in, but then her body gradually relaxed, melting beneath his hands.

“Mmm… thank you,” she mumbled into the pillow.

He smiled and didn’t reply, just continued the slow, soothing motion of his hands until every trace of tension was gone. When he was done, he wiped his hands off and tossed the towel into the hamper with practiced ease.

Without missing a beat, Joe grabbed one of his oversized T-shirts—soft and worn, smelling like him—and helped Angel into it. Then, from the nightstand drawer, he pulled out her satin bonnet.

She looked up at him with a grateful smile as he gently slid it over her curls. “You know I hate waking up looking like a madwoman,” she murmured.

“Which is why you never do,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

With that, he shed his towel and pulled on a clean pair of boxers. Then he climbed into bed, pulling the comforter over them both and wrapping his arms around her.

Angel curled into his chest, her cheek resting over his heart. The steady thump of it was her favorite lullaby.

“Love you,” she whispered.

“I love you more,” Joe replied, kissing the crown of her head.

Sleep claimed her swiftly, the weight of his arms and the beat of his heart anchoring her in a safety she never took for granted.

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the car windows as they cruised down the highway, soft music playing low from the speakers. Angel’s phone buzzed in her lap. She picked it up, swiping the screen, and smiled instantly.

Joe glanced over from the driver’s seat. “What’s got you grinning like that?”

She turned the phone toward him. A picture filled the screen—Zariyah, their six-month-old daughter, laying on her little baby gym. She wasn’t playing with the hanging toys like usual. Instead, she had her head turned to the side, her eyes closed in serene contentment, a smile tugging at her lips as she sucked her thumb.

Joe chuckled, his eyes flicking from the road to the image and back. “Looks like our girl’s a little brat… just like her mama.”

Angel gasped in mock offense, swatting his arm. “She’s a baby, Joseph! Don’t even start.”

“She is your daughter though,” he teased, clearly trying to hide his grin now.

“Whatever,” she muttered, rolling her eyes—but her cheeks were flushed with affection.

Joe reached over and took her hand, lacing their fingers together with a gentle squeeze. “I love you,” he said, the words simple but deeply felt.

Angel looked at him, her heart full. “I love you too.”

And in that moment—sunlight on their faces, laughter in their voices, and love thick in the air—everything felt exactly as it should be.

158 notes · View notes

velvetinks · 2 days ago

Text

Parent-Teacher meeting

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive dialogue, mutual pining, emotionally charged moments, domestic undertones

Joel Miller was late.

Not by a few minutes—by almost half an hour.

You were halfway through grading math tests when the door creaked open and he stepped into your classroom with wind-tousled hair, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, and an apologetic half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he muttered, Southern drawl warm and rough. “Ran into traffic, and the damn jobsite kept me longer than it should’ve.”

You glanced at the clock, then smiled softly.

“It’s alright. I had a feeling you’d be cutting it close. Joel, right?”

His eyebrows lifted, a little surprised you remembered.

“Yeah,” he said. “Joel Miller. Sarah’s old man.”

You gestured toward the seat across from your desk. “Take a breath. We’ve got time.”

He settled in, and when your eyes met, dark and deliberate, something unspoken passed between you.

You cleared your throat and got back to business. “Sarah’s a great kid. Sharp, sweet. Definitely has your sarcasm, though.”

That made him chuckle.

“God help us both,” he muttered. “She’s got her own mind, that’s for sure.”

“And that’s not a bad thing,” you replied, lips curving. “She’s growing into herself. Confident. Capable.”

Joel watched you speak with a focused kind of stillness, like every word coming out of your mouth mattered more than it should.

You noticed.

The meeting wrapped up, but he didn’t get up right away. His gaze lingered—on your eyes, your mouth, the neckline of your blouse that dipped just enough to be noticed.

“She talk about me?” he asked, a little rougher than before.

You smiled again. “All the time. You’re kind of her hero, you know.”

He ducked his head like he wasn’t sure what to do with that kind of praise. “I try.”

You hesitated. Then, just a little teasing:

“You’re not so bad, Joel.”

His head lifted, eyes flickering over you. “No?”

“No,” you said, slow. “Not at all.”

He stood, finally, but didn’t leave right away.

“You always this kind to the dads?” he asked with a small smirk. “Or is it just me?”

You tilted your head, matching his smile. “Depends. Are all the other dads this charming?”

Joel’s laugh was quiet and low. “I doubt it.”

The next week, he showed up at dismissal with two coffees—one held out to you casually, like it was nothing.

“Thought you might need a pick-me-up.”

You took it, hand brushing his on purpose. “You’re learning.”

“Fast,” he said, eyes warm. “Real fast.”

From then on, it became a thing.

Coffee on Thursdays. Friday drop-offs that turned into conversations that ran too long. Little glances that said more than either of you were ready to.

Sarah started noticing, too. The raised brow when your hand lingered a little too long on Joel’s arm. The way her dad stood straighter when you walked over.

“She likes you,” Joel said one day, voice soft. “Sarah, I mean.”

You looked at him. “Do you?”

His smile was slow. “I’m still decidin’.”

“Mm. Take your time, Miller.”

“Dangerous thing to say to a man like me.”

You sipped your coffee and smirked. “I can handle you.”

That made his throat bob, his gaze dip once to your mouth.

The air between you sparked, thick, silent, loaded.

He didn’t kiss you.

Not yet.

But the way he looked at you said he would.

Eventually.

And when he did, it wouldn’t be sweet.

It’d be months of tension and missed chances and quiet craving poured into one hungry, hands-everywhere kind of kiss.

You were both just waiting.

And oh, was the wait worth it.

#the last of us x reader #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel tlou

110 notes · View notes

lelfleur · 1 day ago

Text

10 things I hate about you ⋆˚꩜｡ hockey player! gojo x alt! reader

pt. 1/2

pairing ｡𖦹°‧ college au - hockey player! gojo x reader

summary : getting accepted into one of the ivy league universities was supposed to be you getting the best education you could get, not the centerpiece of a bet created by none other than the hockey team, the players challenge satoru that he can't make you fall for him in 10 days in which he allows his pride take over to go out of his way to take on the bet thinking it would be easy. what he didn't expect was to fall for you instead, but after you find out his ulterior motives, your trust in him shatters and so does his heart. now with the truth out, he is now more determined than ever to get you back, but this time, he isn't playing games.

warnings/tags .ᐟ.ᐟ fluff, angst, brief smut, college au, this fic is based on the film '10 things I hate about you', partial angst with readers father regarding sickness, reader is low income.

wc . 10k

a/n ꪆৎ this is a rewrite of one of my old fics, so you might recognize some scenes that I reused. remembered I wrote it after rewatching 10 things I hate about you. if you see any typos, ignore them. out of sight out of mind. song for this fic : no one noticed by the marias.

transferring from a community college to one of the top 10 universities was a huge step for you. you weren't even sure how you did it. but those two years of attending your local community college that wasn't even ten minutes away from your house paid off. one that made you feel ashamed in going since it felt like a detour from your actual goals.

growing up, you promised your family members that they'd see you majoring in the best schools and in becoming something they would be proud of to call a daughter. thats why you studied so hard in grade school, getting the best grades not allowing them to go below an 85%. but after your mother left shortly after your father got diagnosed with cancer. your dreams had to take a backseat to allow you to become the backbone of your family that consisted of you, your father, and your two younger brothers.

money came in short with your minimum paying job and it just wasn't enough to pay off any college funds. your brother who just turned sixteen always helped you out with groceries and bills now that your father retired from his job, after you forced him to, making sure he was taken care of at all times. hospital bills were also pricey, sometimes your insurance wouldn't cover all the costs and they had to be paid directly from your personal money.

so after applying to yale and actually receiving an acceptance letter in the mail a week after had you trembling in both excitement and fear. you were happy you could finally get the education you've been longing for, but on the other hand you wouldn't want to leave all the responsibility to your brother. he disagreed and encouraged your dreams instead when you sat him down to talk.

"y/n you've always been wanting to go to university. im sixteen now, im not the ten year old you know anymore, I am more than willing to take care after dad and matt."

you let out a sigh as you averted your gaze back down to the letter in your hands. the bold lettering called out your name and you tried to resist. but you couldn't.

"anything happens, you call me immediately." you firmly ordered. the pink haired boy chuckled, the corner of his lips lifted up as well as the corners of his eyes wrinkled before nodding. "got it."

thats how you found yourself packing the last bit of your shirts. no matter how hard you tried to, you just couldn't help the bit of tears that spilled from your eyes. you paused, letting out a shaky breath before feeling a pair of arms wrap around your waist. you looked down to see the soft face of your brother, Matt.

"sissy dont cry. me papa and yuji will be okay!" he promised.

you knelt down to wrap your arms around him as well, holding onto the warmth you were going to leave behind in a few hours. then, another pair wrapped around you both, a much stronger set of arms, then another, your fathers, who was weaker than before but still full of love. before you knew it, your whole family was cuddling together in the comfort of your own room.

no words were exchanged for a few minutes.

"ill miss those blueberry pancakes you make" your father whispered, making everyone giggle. you raised your head up, propping it on top of matt.

"ill leave the recipe for you guys."

your father placed a small delicate peck on your forehead.

airports were your least favorite method of transportation. you couldn't handle hearing the incoherent voice in the speakers call out the plane that was about to board in twenty minutes, or the panicked looks on peoples faces when they realize they booked the wrong flight, or the people just in general, so many people. the whole process was messy and annoying.

your family walked you to where the escalators headed up to your gate. with a sigh, you turned to face them watching as they held back tears. "ill miss you guys." a beat passed. then another. and you found yourself in another family hug.

it was still weird with the missing pair of warm arms that belonged to your mother. but looking back, maybe they weren't warm at all. they were always cold and empty whenever you hugged her. you reminded yourself that she left willingly. you quickly pushed those negative thoughts behind, not wanting to think about her when you had the next best four years of your life right ahead of you.

"call me if you need anything." you said with your voice more steady.

your father nodded before everyone let go at the sound of the speakers calling out your gate number. with one final look and a last goodbye, you stood on the escalators holding back tears of your own.

if the process of checking into the airport wasn't annoying enough, the next five hours boarding the plane itself would be. the man snoring next to you couldn't be any louder, the baby crying behind you wouldn't shut up, and the women gossiping in front of you was the only source of entertainment you could get.

but it all came to this. yale. the beautiful sight of the university's campus. you took it all in, seeing how students walked in with luggages or boxes of their own with the assistance of their parents or friends.

the sun casted a glow on the building itself making it appear straight out of a movie. you stood there for a moment, continuing to take it all in before your main character moment was interrupted by someone bumping into you.

he had white hair that resembled snow itself. he stumbled a bit before regaining his balance. the boys behind him that you figured were his friends laughed at the sight.

"oh uh sorry." he quickly apologized, glancing your way smiling like he meant the entire opposite of his apology before playfully nudging his friend as they continued making their way into the building. you blinked, continuing to watch as he disappeared. he was oddly.. beautiful.

after picking up a few papers form the directory, you followed the directions on the map to where the dormitories were located. you found out that you would be sharing your dorm with a roommate, you didn't mind as you saw this as an opportunity to make your very first friend.

and you were right because the second you twisted the door knob, not fully getting to turn it around before it swung open on its own, introducing a rather tall girl with the prettiest aesthetic and the sweetest smile plastered on her face that comforted you in ways you didn't know you needed.

"hi! I'm miwa!" the girl said in which you returned her greeting with your name. she moved to the side allowing you to step in. you took in the large room. it looks like she already has claimed her part of the room on the left side. band and show posters plastered all over her walls neatly with stuffed animals lying peacefully on her bed. it reminded you fondly of matt recalling how he has millions of plushies on his bed.

"need some help with that?" she pointed at your suitcases. you hesitated at first not wanting to bother her but it wouldn't hurt, right? "yes please." you chuckled which made her grin.

"great, roommate bonding begins now!"

hours pass by full of cleaning and organizing and chatter between you and the blue haired girl. you found out that she's been here for the past two years and you explained to her that you were a transfer. somewhere in between hanging fairy lights and folding blankets, she let it slip that she's crushing on a boy that is on the hockey team.

"didn't know they had a hockey team here." you said as you placed the last piece of clothing in the closet provided by the school. miwa gasped dramatically. "okay now I need to take you out to watch a game sometime!"

she flopped down onto your bed next to you. "its like an essential yale culture."

"deal. i'd like to see how good looking this boy you claim is the most handsome boy in all of yale to exist really is."

"he is!"

the first day of school wasn't until next week, yet you could already feel the nerves setting in as well as the homesickness. you pulled out your phone, dimming the brightness now that miwa was asleep and all the lights were turned off. pressing on yujis contact you sent him a message.

you || 9:04 P.M

everything alright?

yuji || 9:10 P.M

everything's great

you let out a sigh of relief at his words.

the first day was full of chaos, at least for you. you woke up a bit late after your alarm failed to do its job, you lost your map that showed the entire campus, and on top of that you had no idea what to wear.

after brushing your teeth and washing your face, you quickly slipped on a pair of pants and a cute top before rushing out of your dorm all while brushing your hair. you made it on time thankfully, but you surely learned your lesson to set your alarm to full volume.

your classes finally came to an end and you dragged your tired body that was aching from carrying all the syllabus and textbooks in your bag towards your dorm. miwa was already there scrolling through her phone.

"oh hey!," she flinched as she took a closer look at you. "you look rough"

you placed your bag down on the floor before flopping on your bed. "I am rough" you said with a grumble. she moved from her bed towards yours. "hey lighten up, tomorrow will be better. its the second day of school and the first hockey game"

"already?"

"yeah. since its the same previous team as last year versus some other school. coach said he wanted to kick off this season early for some reason. im not complaining, I get to see kokichi!"

"oh right your man" you teased which made her chubby pale cheeks turn a light pink shade before she bolted towards her closet pulling out two tops. "okay so which one says 'hey cute hockey player over there! wanna go out with me?'"

you burst out laughing before pointing at the one on the right hand. "that one, definitely that one."

you were never the type of person to enjoy sports. your brothers and dad enjoyed them though. they always connected both the couches together and gathered a bunch of blankets and snacks whenever a big game came up. now you are here witnessing one happen right in front of you, not on a screen.

you pulled out your phone to snap a picture to send to the family group chat. one you created after you had to delete the previous one with your mother in it. you angled the phone carefully, snapping a picture of the players already spread out ready to kick off the game.

you stared at your screen for a second before sending the message to the group chat. the second you sent it, the announcer's voice came to the speakers and the crowd erupted.

"there he is!" miwa squealed as she pointed at the dark haired boy, kokichi. he was rather attractive and you could see why she liked him. they definitely would make a cute couple. he was walking with a friend who had white hair. your eyes squinted as you looked a bit closer.

it was the same boy who bumped into you a week ago. his white locks were messy and he had a grin plastered over his face. it seemed that he was popular with the girls because they went wild at the sight of him.

you were interrupted from your thoughts when miwa's elbow made contact with your shoulder. "look, he waved at me!"

your eyes traced back to kokichi. "yeah, I saw." but your eyes kept wandering back to the boy with white hair. number ten. you watched as he placed his helmet on and slid across the rink to get into position.

a buzzer sounded across the arena, putting the game to a start and sending the crowd into a loud roar. you sat a bit straighter as you tried to keep track of the hockey puck. all the players were a blur of white and blue as they slid through the ice rink.

number 10 was sharp.

he was focused and quick, weaving through the other players. he stole the puck clean with a swift movement of his stick, gliding towards the opposite teams net. the air was thick with anticipation and it seemed that the entire arena was holding it's breath, and you didn't realize that you were holding yours as well.

then he hit it straight into the back of the cage with a satisfying clank.

applause echoed and so did the screams of the players' name.

satoru.

he rushed to his teammates doing a small celebration before continuing the game. maybe hockey wasn't too bad.

the game ended as soon as the buzzer could be heard, with your school winning. people made their way towards the exit or down to the rink. the hockey cheerleaders, glittering with their tiny ass skirts, made their way to their boyfriends who were players.

but most of them?

they went to satoru, congratulating him like he had just saved the world itself from an apocalypse. his hands reached to take off his gear, forehead dripping with a thin layer of sweat.

"im gonna go talk to kokichi." miwa said as she stood up from the bleacher already feeling the nerves settling down her stomach. you nodded, following her. she wrapped her arms around the boy, a hug in which he returned as well.

"thanks for coming." he said in a low voice placing his lips on hers practically melting the poor girl setting her rosacea on fire. you stood there a bit awkward not realizing that a pair of eyes was placed on your figure.

"hey, is she new?" a player asked his friends, pointing directly at you.

the other boy shrugged. "I guess, never seen her before." he turned to satoru who was busy untying the shoelaces of his skates, whistling at him. "yo satoru! remember when you were whining about not having any other girl to crack?"

satoru's eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a bit before he approached his friend. "yeah, what about it?" the guy grinned, jerking his chin toward the bleachers.

"what about her?"

he could barely see you due to his poor eyesight now that he had taken off his contacts. he saw you with a girl he knew was in a situationship with kokichi, his friend. "who the hell is that?"

"she's new. go after her."

satoru grumbled. "she looks like a total loner." his friend shrugged, untying his long black hair. "you like a challenge though, don't you?" he tossed his stick into his bag. "ten days. thats the bet"

"woah we're making this a bet?" satoru raised his eyebrow. there was a beat of silence, long enough to make him think this through. it's been a while since he's been laid, not wanting to continue the life of being a frat boy and a 'play boy.' he really just wanted to focus on his studies and hockey as well, if he found a girl somewhere throughout that then he'd settle down.

he grabbed his water bottle, taking a sip from it. "ten days." he repeated, mostly to himself. "suguru I don't know-"

"you backing out?" suguru questioned, wanting to stir something.

no matter how much he wanted to resist, he just couldn't because no matter how much he swore that he stopped doing that shit, he missed it just a bit. "fine, ten days."

his jaw was tightened watching as his friend smirked. the group chuckled a bit, like it was just another 'harmless' game. satoru glanced at you.

pretty.

you and miwa made your way to the exit after the little make-out session with her now new boyfriend. she kept squealing about how she couldn't believe she finally got together with him. you were incredibly happy for the both of them.

"he kissed me! like he actually kissed me! I thought I was going to pass out!"

satoru debated, standing still for a moment. you were a step away from leaving, your arm wrapped around your friends, chattering about whatever. part of him wanted to plan this through, something smoother than just..

"fuck it." he mumbled.

his legs moved before his brain ordered them to. "hey-" he called out, jogging a bit to fully reach you. you turned slowly, miwa did too with her eyebrows furrowed. he realized that maybe this wasn't the best option. his lips parted a bit before continuing.

"uh.." he scratched the back of his neck. "you dropped something."

you stared at him in confusion. "no I didn't.." you looked down to confirm that you in fact, didn't drop any item.

"right uhm, that was supposed to be my opening line" he cursed at himself, but it made you chuckle. satoru was dorky, you thought. he had an uneven smile before he looked back at you.

"im satoru"

"I know" you felt like everyone in this damn school knew who he was. "oh im y/n." you quickly introduced yourself after the small pause. for some reason, satoru didn't feel like this was the beginning of a bet he agreed to, but a beginning for something he wasn't ready for.

"go out with me."

miwa snapped her head so fast towards you, you could have sworn you heard a crack. you blinked at satoru, unsure if you heard him right.

"what?"

"go out with me, please." he repeated confident just like the first time. you weren't entirely convinced. "is this a joke?" satoru froze. of course this was a joke. he always played around with random girls so why did it make him feel guilty this time.

"no. I want you, pretty." he smiled softly, showing off his pearly whites that could have any girl soaking her panties in under 10 seconds.

you could feel miwa vibrating next to you, begging you to say yes, or at least something. "I think i'll pass." you mumbled, not unkindly just firm enough to make your point, staring at him for a bit before turning your heel to leave with miwa who now had a disappointed look on her face.

"whyyy?" she whined.

a grunt left satoru's lips. "I can take you out somewhere, anywhere! real nice places sweetheart!"

"like the 7/11 in broadway?" you shot back. he froze before chuckling a genuine laugh, shaking his head. "even better!"

the corner of your lips tugged up a smile as you giggled with miwa at his advances as you both left.

"well look at you missy, pulling mr captain of the hockey team."

"im just that good." you continued to hold your smile, not letting it drop.

and neither did he.

every night at eight, you'd have a video call with your family, just to make sure everything was alright back at home.

"he had an appointment today." yuji said while he was washing the dirty plates, handing them to matt to dry. you used to always put the dishes away back to their original places, but you were no longer there to do your job and that hurt you a bit.

it stung seeing how they had to adapt to live without you and you recalled how you all had to do the same when your mother left. you watched how matt didn't hand it to anyone, he just placed them down.

"and the results?" you asked, your voice quiet and steady but ready for any news you didn't want to hear. not yet.

"not out yet, but im sure nothing has changed since last time he got checked up."

yuji turned off the sink, handing the smaller kid the last dish before drying his hands with a towel. "how's yale treating you? saw the picture you sent."

you hummed looking back at how the day went. "it's going great I guess. our school won the game by the way, oh and a boy wants to take me out."

"you agreed?" yuji has always been the overprotective type, despite you being older.

you answered by shaking your head. "no, he's sketchy."

"how come?" now he was completely alert. a boy is hitting on his sister hundreds of miles away from home? not on his watch. you shrugged.

"he has a whole fangirl club or something."

matts voice could be heard from afar. "he's a red flag!" his words made you chuckle. "you been teaching him new vocabulary?"

yuji rolled his eyes. "its the kids at his school. but seriously, trust your gut. if you don't feel like something is right about that gut, don't take his offer."

you nodded, pressing the sleeve of your sweater up to your nose taking in the scent of old memories. it hasnt been washed since you left home and that nostalgic smell lingered.

one that you desperately wanted to go back to.

satoru could've sworn he left dissecting frogs back in high school, but here he was again, poking around at the laid back amphibians internal organs. "no way am I doing this shit." with a mutter, he placed the tweezers down gagging, shaking his hands in disgust before pulling out his cigarette box, sliding one out placing it in between his pretty pink lips, far too pretty for a man. "smoking in class? you'll set the smoke alarm off." suguru scooted closer to his friend.

"better than doing a bbl on a frog." satoru grumbled, looking away not being able to stare at the gross mess that was right in front of him. "that girl from yesterday.." he narrowed his eyes in thought, trying to remember your name. "y/n" he mumbled after it finally reached him.

"she didn't want to go out with me." he continued. the black haired boy scoffed, not comprehending the words that were coming out of the school's playboy. " you're satoru fucking gojo, this should be easy as hell for you!"

"look man, I dont do this shit anymore."

suguru rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he looked at the frog's corpse. "I'll pay you." satoru grunted bringing the lighter up to his cigarette, huffing it slowly before blowing it towards suguru, in which he looked down at the smoking boy unimpressed.

"I have enough money, I don't need your pocket change."

suguru paused in deep thought. "you're right, heard she's only into pretty guys anyways." satoru brought a hand up to his chest as if he was truly hurt, because he was.

“are you telling me im not a pretty guy?” he took out the cigarette from his mouth, before crushing it down against the table, which left a nasty dent on the cheap laminate. "why do you want me to play with her?"

suguru brought his pierced tongue out to lick his dry lips. "I guess I just miss the old you. seriously satoru, I'll pay you. 300 bucks if you take her out on a date," he scooted closer to his friend. "500 if you get in her panties. and 1000 if you manage to make her your date to hoco."

as if divine intervention occurred, the door creaked open, pausing the chatter between the two boys. there you were. wearing a well put together outfit that just made satoru's hormones run crazy, as you made your way to your desk. the sight of you made gojo straighten his posture suddenly hyper aware of every detail of himself. quickly running a hand through his hair and gulping, his adams apple bobbing.

he turned to look at suguru who was already giving him a pointed look.

"bet."

another thing that you like about yale's campus is that its not too far away from shopping areas. you found a nearby barnes and noble not even a few blocks away from the school. it soon became your go to stop where you would buy books and cd's. you weren't able to fit any of your beloved music or novels when you were packing, so you started a new collection that was placed neatly back at your dorm.

you entered, the bell placed on top of the door notifying any workers of your entrance quickly making your way to the music disc section, straight shelves full of cd's. you're surprised to see many new arrivals.

some were year old music, and some were rare old ones from the 2000's. you reached out to grab a few, a soft smile plastered on your face as you scanned the labels. so deep into it, you didn't notice the bell chiming again.

'debut' by bjork was being held by your hand right now, having an inner battle with yourself whether to be financially responsible for today. you placed the cd back when you remembered that the hospital bill from your fathers last visit would soon come back. and you were not looking forward to seeing the multiple zeros behind whatever number was in front of it.

"excuse me, have you seen any cd of bjork?" the smooth voice behind you asked. "oh yeah-" you answered, turning to look back at the voice.

halfway through your sentence, you took a good look at who was behind you. satoru. "oh, it's you." your eyes narrowed as they focused on him. the boy slid his glasses on the crown of his head. you didn't know he even wore those. satoru seemed to have noticed your observation.

"lost my contacts."

"are you stalking me?" you asked defensively which just made him laugh. his body got closer to yours as he skimmed through the cd's.

"you not getting that bjork one?" he asked tilting his head as his long pale fingers slid the music disc right out of its place. the plastic creaked the second he held it.

"uh its a bit expensive.." the words came out in a mumble, almost embarrassed to admit you couldn't afford a fifty dollar cd. you shifted your weight onto your right leg, looking anywhere but him.

he looked at you before looking down at the case. "guess I'll get it."

you blinked. "didn't know you liked her."

"I dont. but I like you, so I'll get it for you, baby. anything else you want?"

you head snapped towards him, watching how he didn't even let you answer as he placed the bjork case that contained the disc you've been wanting for a while into a shopping basket. you were so shocked you didn't even realize the term of endearment.

"its fifty.." you reminded him.

"be a sweetheart and dont mention the prices, I dont care one bit about it." your eyes dropped to the basket, lips parting to say anything but nothing came out. nothing but a, "can I get the post one..?"

you couldn't find how much one has ever spent at barnes and nobles, but you were pretty sure you may have broken whatever record there was. satoru didn't mind, just like he said.

when the cashier asked how he'd like his receipt he declined it. when he saw the total on the screen in bold green letters, he ignored it. and when he handed you the bags full of books, cd's, and figures, some that you didn't even ask for. he just noticed you staring at them for a little too long and he'd just grab it and place it in the basket, he had a smile plastered right on those pink lips.

"I think I deserve a kiss for all of this.."

its the least you could do, right? besides he didn't tell you where he wanted the kiss. so you stepped up on your tippy toes a bit to place your lips on his cheek.

"thank you. seriously thank you." his smirk softened to a smile, returning the kiss but on your forehead making your breathing stutter.

"any time," he mumbled kissing your nose before backing up. "oh here, give me your phone"

your hand pulls out your phone from your back pocket, handing it to him. "what for?"

"im putting my number in.." his fingers typed quickly, the dumb smirk on his face not leaving, before slipping it back into your hands.

'my sugar daddy'

you visibly cringed at the name he chose. "you've got to be kidding me." you said with pure disbelief. he nodded, proud of his decision. "I did buy you all this didn't I?" he tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear, leaning down to whisper into it.

"ill send you a picture to set up as my contact photo. perhaps a nude?"

"perhaps not."

miwa's eyes widened when she saw you stumble into the shared dorm with heavy bags on each hand. "woah.. didn't know it was black friday." she half joked, getting up from her bed to help you out. you exhaled in relief when the weight was taken from your poor limp arms. "and I didn't pay a single penny."

she averted her gaze from the bags up to you. "who did pay for them? your sugar daddy?" your face burned at that damn name. "you're not wrong. it was satoru." you held up your phone, opening this contact name you knew would have miwa laughing.

she squinted, looking at it before she burst into giggles.

"hes so extra." you set the bags down on the desk, taking one thing out at a time. miwa wiped the tears that spilled from her eyes. "how'd this happen?"

you dragged a hand down your face, shrugging. "he saw me at the store and offered to buy me whatever. but I swear I didn't ask for all of this."

"he likes you."

you paused for a second. "does he now?"

it was a dumb question. who else would buy a random person they have no interest in hundreds of dollars worth of barnes and noble? no one, except him of course.

you retold the same ridiculous events to yuji, who still wasn't pleased at the idea of you getting hit on not even a month into school. his arms were crossed over his chest as he was lazily sitting on his desk chair, same as you.

"return everything."

you scoffed. "no way! even if I did I wouldn't be able to, he didn't ask for a receipt."

"he shouldn't be buying you shit. didn't you tell me yesterday how your gut was telling you something was off?"you moved from your desk to your bed, sighing as your back hit the mattress. "well maybe I was wrong about him."

satoru felt proud of being able to treat you like a princess, buying you all sorts of things, showering you with everything you wanted. he remembered how you hesitated on buying that cd. it bothered him a bit.

'did she have a problem with money?'

his phone rang with a message from suguru.

'party tonight at the frat, you coming?"

of course he was, he hasn't missed a single function since he joined yale. his fingers typed out, "Omw!" but before he could send it, he stopped, and then deleted it. why was he thinking about you right now?

why is he declining a party?

"im not in the mood tonight."

he stared at the screen for a moment, realizing that he actually sent that. a calloused hand rubbed his cheekbone, exhaling before he received another notification, this time not from any of his friends but from spotify.

'the marias are performing near you! click to see ticket prices and shows available!'

the marias? where had he heard that name.. his mind instantly flashed to you. you were holding the marias disc, the one he bought you along with all the other cd's. it was as if his body was moving without him knowing because a second later, he was buying two tickets.

your first day was an unconfirmed barnes and noble date. but your second day, the concert, would be an actual date.

he clicked the 'pay now' button without hesitation.

you weren't expecting to see a screen showing the digital receipts slip right into your line of sight while you were halfway through placing some textbooks in your locker. the bold blue letters read, 'THE MARIAS'

"hi pretty.. got these for you and me." your eyes widened at the familiar voice. the white haired individual really had a habit of sneaking up behind you didn't he? "you.. you got-" you stammered, blinking at the sight of the tickets, then back at him.

"got these for you and me." he repeated himself, both his voice and gaze softening. not sure to be flattered or continue being suspicious, you slowly reached for his phone, taking it from his pale hand to make sure what you were seeing was real.

not only did he buy you both tickets to a music artist you liked, but he also got the best seats. "you got the marias tickets.." you said mostly to yourself. his smirk was still there, but it showed no sign of being cocky.

"mhm, thought you'd like it."

"satoru.. you already spent so much on me yesterday.." how come a boy you barely knew was dropping a thousand on you each day. "I told you I like you. this can be our first date." he gently grabbed back his phone.

you swallowed, your mind trying to wrap itself around the unexpected layers of satoru you’d been seeing over the last few days. and you wondered if you were the first one to see this version of him.

"one date." you said firmly as you lifted up your finger, finally agreeing to his advances. his charm was different.. it was bold, yes, but real. "don't push your luck, im only accepting because its bjork."

"there will be more than one date, pretty." there was short pauses between his words allowing each syllable to sink in. like he meant it.

you had no idea why you were allowing him to score another point at this game he was forcing you to play. "at least let me pay for the gas.. or for the food." you offered but satoru only scrunched his face up shaking his head.

"don't do that."

he had some extra cash on him. 300. just like suguru promised when he said he'd pay satoru 300 if he managed to take you out on a date.

"just wear something pretty for me, and easy to remove."

you rolled your eyes. "im not sure about that second part, you're pushing your luck here sir."

"mm no not sir baby, its sugar dadd-"

your hand shot out to cover his mouth, cutting him off before he even had the chance to finish. he was shocked for a bit before he licked a long stripe against your hand moaning.

you recoiled immediately, gagging with a mix of shock and disgust. he chuckled at your discomfort and the sight of you wiping your hand on his chest.

"you like that baby?"

"no!" you shot back, closing your locker before rushing to the bathroom to properly clean your hand.

"ill see you later my love!" he called out.

miwa helped you get ready for the concert date after school. she straightened your hair pin straight while you both talked about what could happen later. your phone vibrated with a notification from 'sugar daddy'

"you still wearing something easy to remove right?"

you stared at the message. any past thoughts of him not being that bad quickly vanished. obviously, you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of your reply, so you left him on read. guess that hurt his feelings because a few minutes later he texted again.

"im joking baby :("

"still haven't changed that contact name?" miwa asked, finishing up the last strand for the final section. you grumbled a little 'shut it'

"im kind of nervous.." you admitted. this was going to be your first date after all.

miwa stopped, her hands hovering in mid air, before she turned your chair to face each other. her expression softened, a mix of understanding and excitement. "hey, it’s okay to be nervous. besides you kind of already know him.."

"briefly." you couldn't help but sigh, your eyes following her figure as she chose an outfit from her side of the closet to lend you.

"he wanted something easy to remove right?"

"dont."

you both met up to where you agreed, which was just outside the girls dormitories. the second he saw you, his heart fluttered.

you looked, no, you are gorgeous.

"...hey" a smile crept up on his face. he was dressed casual while you went all out thanks to miwa.

"hi" you smiled softly.

"you're so beautiful.." you'd be lying if you said you weren't flustered. even if you tried lying, the dark tint of pink on your cheeks would say otherwise. "thank you"

with a chuckle, he led you to his car. a model of the year, typical for a rich ass boy like him. being the gentleman he was, he opened the passenger door for you before closing it as you settled yourself down.

he made his way over to the drivers seat. "can't believe I finally landed a date with you" he mumbled before reaching over to hold your hand in his.

why was he acting like this? it was just a bet.. right?

you stared down at your hands that were now intertwined. you'd expect his to be cold from how pale they were and the amount of time he spends playing hockey in the cold rink.

your eyes lifted to his face, he was focused on the road now, a quiet little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, like just having you next to him was enough.

"im going to be honest, i don't know any of this bands songs."

your breath caught in your throat. "you bought the tickets without knowing how they were?"

he shook his head. "I bought the tickets because I knew you knew who they were." his hand squeezed yours, keeping his eyes on the road. "have I told you how absolutely sexy you are? I mean look at this.." his hand moved from yours to tug at your skirt, making you gasp.

"feel good, baby?" he continued squeezing your thigh, biting his lower lip as he felt the warmth of your skin.

he slapped it playfully, moving his hand onto the steering wheel leaving you flustered.

"pervert.."

the concert was beautiful. the music reached your heart it made you tear up, of course some songs hit close to home. gojo couldn't help but admire you from time to time. watching as your pretty mouth sang along to the unknown lyrics.

"lets take a picture pretty." he said out of nowhere. "a picture?" he nodded before pulling out his phone, wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing his cheek against yours, snapping a few pictures of you and him throughout the night, mostly of you. you did the same, filling up your gallery with endless pictures and videos.

he pressed his lips on your temple before pulling away to continue enjoying the performance.

as the night came to an end, he drove you safely back home, both of you discussing the songs you enjoyed being performed the most.

"I think I enjoyed back to me the most"

"no way! paranoia was clearly the most enjoyable."

he rolled his eyes. "yeah well I think what I enjoyed the most was seeing you sing. you're gorgeous baby."

"you already told me that like twenty times."

"and ill continue to tell you for the rest of my life and beyond that." his words made your stomach twist. not in a bad way. definitely not. you watched how the dim light lit up his face making him look even more handsome than he already was.

"want to go to the ice rink?" he asked.

'right now? I dont think im wearing the appropriate clothing for skating.."

satoru grinned, pulling up to the building where the arena was in. "good thing I came prepared then." he reached towards the backseat, pulling out a duffel bag.

"you can thank your friend miwa."

you stared down at the clothes, which belonged to you, now on your lap. light pink thighs and a sweater as well as leg warmers. "you guys planned this?"

"she helped me out. I wanted to make this the best first date."

it was late, so the place was quieter than usual, dimly lit, making the place peaceful. the cold air nipped at your cheeks as you both stepped inside, and you tried your best not to show how nervous you were.

"ive never skated before." you admit.

"good thing your man is a hockey player." he finished tying up his laces before getting down on one knee to tie yours. he said it so casually. 'your man'

satoru looked up at you all while he continued fumbling around with the laces on your skates. "I really hope we have that romcom moment where you slip on the ice and fall right into my arms."

"what type of movies are you watching?" you giggled, feeling the heat creep up to your neck.

he finished the second skate, placing it on the ground before gripping your thighs. "like I said.. romcoms." he murmured, bringing you closer to his face. he darted his tongue out to lick the inside of your thigh.

a gasp left your lips. "h-hey.."

he didn't stop there.

he was starved. his lips traveled all throughout your inner thighs, nipping once in a while. "pretty.."

a shaky hand pushed his head away, watching as a string of saliva connected his lips with you. "so uhm.. you gonna teach me how to skate..?"

the fog of tension shattered the moment you placed your hand on his forehead, pushing him away. he licked his lips before chuckling. "yeah, come on."

the second you stepped onto the ice, you were already struggling. it was more slippery than you'd expect it to be, but satoru's large hands, placed on your waist, kept you steady.

"lean on me."

you held onto his arms, following his step wobbling once in a while.

"I got you doll."

twenty minutes was all you needed to learn how to maintain your balance on the ice. you excitedly followed satoru, holding his hand as you both made rounds around the rink, your skates gliding smoothly. he glanced at you, smiling as he watched you. "look at you... natural born skater" just as he said that, you bumped into his shoulder.

"natural born liar."

he chuckled seeing how your eyes showed signs of being tired. he wrapped his hands around your waist, lifting you up with ease. "lets get you out of here. kind of sad we didn't have that cute moment."

"what cute moment?" you wrapped your arms around him before he placed you down the carpet when he got you both out the ice rink. "the one where you fall right into my arms and we kiss."

you rolled your eyes. "maybe next time."

he raised an eyebrow, kneeling down again to take off your shoes. "so is that a confirmation that we will have another date?"

"mhm." you hummed quietly and before you knew it, you were leaning into a kiss with no control over your body, like it was possessed by a curse or something.

he hesitated for a second, deciding not to kiss you back. it was just a bet.

"lets go."

you stared at him in hurt and betrayal. this is what he wanted wasn't it? you felt your heart sink deeper as the seconds passed. you didn't allow him to put your shoes on, doing it yourself instead.

"baby.."

"dont." your voice wasn't firm, it was soft. barely even a whisper to be honest. "you're just messing with me aren't you?" he looked startled, like he had gotten caught with his hand down the cookie jar, because he did.

"no..no you're not something to play around with."

you were mad. furious even. "feels like it."

opening the door after gathering your clothes, you left without a goodnight. or a kiss. once you were out of view, satoru dragged his hands down his face groaning. he's grown attached to you without knowing it in the span of three days. and he's hurt you by denying your kiss.

he rushed after you.

"let me walk you."

"its fine. my dorm isn't that far."

"damn it y/n." he pressed his lips against yours, cupping your jaw. the kiss was full of frustration and it was desperate. his other hand found your hip, bringing you closer to him. he wanted to deepen the kiss, but he noticed you weren't kissing back.

he pulled away before smashing his lips against yours again, hoping that you'd kiss back this time but you didn't.

"I'll see you later.." you mumbled out.

he watched you walk away quickly in the direction of your dorm. now it was his heart who was sinking. he didn't remember any of his last 'bets' hurting this much.

so why does it feel like you were ripping out his heart right now?

when you reached your dorm, ready to get any call from your brothers, you already planned not to mention anything. not the concert date with satoru and definitely not how yuji was right about him. you couldn't let him have that 'I told you so' moment.

your phone vibrated at the back of your pocket as soon as you dropped your bag onto the floor. miwa was staying over at her boyfriends tonight, giving you and satoru any privacy if things went to a more heated direction.

it did. sorta.

with a sigh, you slid your thumb across the screen, answering the call from yuji.

"took you a while."

you forced a laugh. "sorry, you woke me up." you allowed your body to rest, flopping down on your messy bed with a 'thump', the back of your head sinking into the pillows.

"I'm just calling you to let you know that a hospital bill might reach you."

you quirked an eyebrow, staring at the ceiling. "its going to be sent out to me? all the way to yale?" yuji let out a small 'mhm', casual like he was commenting on the weather.

"yeah, from dad's last check up."

"oh," you rubbed your face, feeling a different kind of tired. "thats right."

"its just from his prescriptions and shit.. I would've paid it myself but.." his voice trailed off.

"no, no dont worry about it. not like i'm already drowning in student loans or whatever"

"of course not." you could hear him chuckle from the other side of the phone.

after the call ended, you let the silence settle. you received your mail usually by the end of the week in your small issued mailbox that was located in the front of the school. most of the time it was just flyers for clubs you had no intention of joining. but soon, a hospital bill that you desperately wanted to leave behind home, where it belongs, will appear right inside the small box.

after dreading to see the ridiculous amount you had to pay for oral chemotherapy medication, your mind circled back to satoru, a finger brushed against your lips, reliving the moment he placed his against yours in a kiss you wanted to return, but didn't.

you felt like it wasn't real.

why would he hesitate in the first place? your hand dropped back down against the mattress, gripping the bed sheets to brace yourself from any tears that might come out.

miwa dragged you to watch kokichi practice in the ice rink. the memories from last night hit you like a wave every other minute you sat on the bleachers. the same spot you were rejected.

you were annoyed.

no. pissed. pissed at how he dodged your kiss like it meant nothing and honestly you have every right to be. because why is he hesitant to kiss you when he’s the one that was so desperate. is this some sort of sick joke?

you didn't want to mention it to miwa or anyone. you were too embarrassed and the poor girl was happy she even had the opportunity to help out satoru with last nights date. you couldn't take that away from her. when she asked how it went you spared the details and just gave a brief summary.

"it was fun, he took me to the concert, we sang. then the ice rink, thanks by the way, and he taught me how to skate."

"thats so cute!" her face lit up.

you both continued to see the hockey players glide across the arena. but someone was missing. number 10. your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a microphone starting.

“can't take my eyes of off you..” a voice murmured into the microphone, a voice you instantly recognized. satoru. you blinked once. and then again-unsure if you were hearing correctly or if the loud ass volume you listen to your music in was finally catching up to you.

you squinted your eyes to see the white haired boy stand right in the middle of the rink, the whole team joining him as well. his body stepped forward, then another, until he broke into a dance. you let out a few chuckles of disbelief as you watched him make a fool of himself.

“i love you baby!” you wanted to crawl into a corner and die from embarrassment. “and if it’s quite alright, i need you baby..” his finger pointed right at you. a few people around you chuckled as well, one yelling, "go verona!"

you brought your hands up to you face covering it in embarrassment as a flush appeared. he was so off key now, yelling out the lyrics as he did little tricks around the ice, nearly slipping but catching himself with a dramatic spin. he made a bee line towards the top of the bleachers. you wanted to escape but he was quick, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“oh pretty baby..” he panted as the chorus died down. he placed the microphone down, grabbing your cheeks without a warning with both hands planting a long and sweet kiss on your plump lips. this time, you kissed back without hesitation from either of you.

"satoru.." you managed to say before he continued his desperate kisses, sliding his tongue into your mouth leaving no room for the words that were swirling in your head. miwa was ecstatic, clapping with others, who were surprised that the ex-playboy was acting straight out of a 2000's movie.

"shut up.. let me just kiss you." his fingers threaded through your hair.

and kisses continued all the way to his dorm, no sign of stopping any time soon as he pushed you down his bed.

"im sorry about yesterday.. let me make it up to you."

"I think you did already with your little performance."

he chuckled, shaking his head. "nah, you need more than a song."

satoru wears everything on his face. like everything. you could tell what he was feeling with just a glimpse at his blushed face that turned from his usual pale color to a deep red. his mouth was open when he sank into you.

he smirked when he watched you struggle to take him. the small moans you let out made him twitch. "you look so fucking good. taking my cock like this." he wrapped your legs around his bare waist before his large hand found your neck, wrapping lightly around it.

"sa..satoru.." you whimpered.

"mmf- yeah that feels good. so.. tight and wet f'me. should've done this yesterday." he rolled his hips against yours gently. satoru has never been this gentle during sex towards anyone. he slid in and out of you slowly, making sure you felt every single one of his veins.

"oh fuck.. not going to last long inside this warm fucking pussy."

he licked your lips before shoving his tongue down your throat. satoru pulled away, forcing your jaw to open to spit right into your mouth.

"swallow."

you obeyed, swallowing his shared spit, opening your mouth to show him.

"good girl."

you screamed, gripping his shoulders when he slipped almost all the way out before slamming all the way in. he was loving this, almost forgetting the amount of money he would receive for getting into your panties.

it wasn't until you both finished, and his arms were wrapped around you in a comfortable position to cuddle, placing loving kisses on your forehead, that he finally remembered that this was all a bet. was.

he was scared that maybe he didn't want this to be just a game. his breath stilled, his fingers still tracing random shapes on your back as he pulled back slightly, taking a close look at your peaceful expression.

he didn't want it to end.

he took a look at his calendar that was placed on his nightstand. he counted the days knowing he didn't have that much left with you.

"love?"

you hummed, opening your eyes, your expression soft, when he called out to you.

"i'm playing tomorrow.. then we're having a sort of 'hoco' type of thing at the frat.. come with me?"

you nodded, placing your head on his chest listening to the way his heart beat at a steady pace. "course.." you murmured, he did tire you out after all. his body relaxed at your answer. there were still so many things left unsaid, so much you both needed to figure out. but he was okay with just having you this close to him right now.

you didn't call your family that night. your phone was put on do not disturb, laying on top of the nightstand. satoru's arms were still wrapped tightly around you.

but across the country, yuji grew worried, because not only were hospital bills going to reach you, but terrible news as well.

he paced back and forth outside the hospital room, the one where your father was currently staying, checking his phone every second to see if you have seen his messages or calls.

nothing from you.

he tried to come up with a reason. you were probably studying, or just busy in general. he wanted to cry because the feeling of being the one now responsible for everything was finally sinking in. he didn't know why your father collapsed. he didn't know if your aunt was on her way to pick up matt from school. and he didn't know when the hell you would answer your phone.

"answer.. please." he prayed.

the next day when you woke up to the sound of shuffling, you were met with several forehead kisses.

"sorry baby, have to go straight to the rink." your eyes fluttered open slowly, eyes adjusting to the morning light. you remembered the game today, and the party as well.

"practice hard.." your morning voice came out groggy, in which he let out a soft laugh.

"ill see you later baby." with that he left.

you looked around, still groggy, seeing the clock on his wall. eleven o clock.

your eyes widened. shit. you were late for class. you threw the blanket off of you, quickly putting on the same clothes from yesterday. when you reached for your panties, you noticed they were ripped. the sudden pain you felt on your stomach was a reminder of your poor decisions from last night.

you slipped on your skirt, praying you wouldn't flash anyone by the time you got to your dorm. after grabbing your bag, you reached for your phone before bolting out of his room.

when you made your way to class, you felt a deep feeling in your gut telling you, no, yelling, that something wasn't okay.

the cold air of the rink hit you the moment you stepped through the doors, crisp and biting against your skin. the faint sound of blades carving across ice echoed through the space, mixed with low shouts and the occasional laughter of teammates mid practice.

miwa was buzzing beside you, excited to see her boyfriend play, and for the party he asked her out to. you caught sight of satoru not that far away talking with a boy with gauges.

"I'll be back: you said to her.

"okay! I'll go grab us some seats then!"

you watched as the blue haired girl quickly made her way up the bleachers, snatching a good spot for the both of you. you approached satoru, ready to scare him as you snuck behind him.

"dude, I'm telling you I fucked her already, pay up." he grumbled.

your entire world stopped for a second. were you hearing correctly? the other boy laughed. "thought you didn't want to take this bet?" his hand reached for his pocket, pulling out his wallet to slip out a few hundred dollar bills.

it all suddenly clicked.

"it's whatever. honestly, she's everything i've wanted in a girl." the boy you thought you could trust accepted the bills into his hand. how could you have thought that this actually meant something. that you actually meant something to satoru.

"are you fucking kidding me?" you stared at him, feeling so many emotions all at once. anger, betrayal, and even denial. your mind was processing what you just heard. you wanted to hear it wasn't real, that he wasn't only after you because of a bet and that he actually likes you. but you knew you were better than that, you couldn't help but connect all the dots. the way he just randomly went up to you? the way he spent so much money on you?

it wasn't fate. it was orchestrated. and you felt stupid for now realizing.

there was horror written all over gojos face. "no baby.. baby listen to me." but you refused, shaking your head. you refused because the following words were going to be the confirmation that you dreaded to hear. without another word, you turned away pushing though the crowd. "y/n!" he shouted, but you didn't turn back. as you made your way down the hall, his hand wrapped around your wrist, "please, PLEASE listen to me!" in which you yanked back.

"it was all a bet huh? and for what? I knew I shouldn't have trusted yo-" you were interrupted by his lips molding against yours. no matter how much you wanted to melt into it, you didn't. your hands landed on his chest, pushing him off you before wiping your lips. the boy stood there, stunned, as his sad blue eyes watched you walk out.

how could he do this to you? after you accepted his dates. after you let him use your body for pleasure. after everything?you felt horrible for leaving miwa alone, but you didn't want to ruin her day. her boyfriend was playing hockey, with satoru.

it was when you pulled out your phone, ready to block him, when you saw the several missed calls from yuji and from your fathers doctor. your heart sank even more. you quickly found a secluded spot.

satoru wanted to follow after you, desperate to fix things. but he couldn't, not with a game he needed to play. but in all honesty he was done playing.

yuji was screaming at you through the phone. his voice was raw. one you haven't heard in years.

"I called you twenty fucking times y/n! all of last night, where the hell were you?!"

you were hyperventilating. the situation sinking in, the one with gojo and the one where your dad was on the brink of death. "with.. with this guy.."

silence.

"with a guy?" he spat. “you were with some guy while dad was- y/n, he’s in critical condition. they had to resuscitate him last night. and im over here wondering that something important was going on with you only to find out you were busy sucking some guy off. was it the guy you told me about?"

"..yeah..but it didn't end well."

"I dont fucking care about that right now. honestly im glad, let this be a lesson. we thought we were gonna lose him. and you were out playing house with some asshole?”

you didn't answer, too busy trying to even breathe. "im sorry... im sorry." yuji didn’t respond right away.

"i already paid half of the shit," his sharp voice continued. "if you could send some money over that would be great. and those bills, have you paid them yet?"

you swallowed hard, tears stinging the backs of your eyes. “o, I… I haven’t had time, yuji,”

“you haven’t had time?” he repeated like the words physically hurt him. there was a long pause. when Yuji spoke again, his voice had softened.

".. just please pay his medication.. my job isn't paying that well."

"I will.." you said quietly. "where is matt?"

"he's with aunt teresa. i'll call you if anything happens again, please answer next time."

you sniffled, wiping your runny nose. "okay. I love you."

click.

the call ended with him not saying those words back. you still had your phone up to your ear, wishing that magically yuji would say it back.

you felt so unwanted

unloved.

you could feel your eyes stinging even more and your throat closing up on you. you felt like you were losing everyone, your father slipping away in a hospital bed miles from here, your brother who had always been your anchor, your voice of reason, now too exhausted to carry you, and satoru.

satoru.

that night your phone was blowing up. call after call, text after text- all from him.

satoru : y/n please.

satoru : call me, return my calls lets talk pretty.

satoru : it was a bet, but believe me when I tell you that I truly love you.

satoru : I love you. say it back baby. please I need you. can't lose you, im sorry love please don't leave..

you remembered when you planned to block him before the call with yuji, your finger hovered over the red block button. but you simply put your phone on dnd and headed to sleep recalling the horrible events of tonight. tear stains were placed on your cheeks, mascara ruined, just like how your life felt.

miwa had tried, she really did. she tried her best to comfort you, but she understood you needed space. the sweet girl provided you with extra blankets as well as water, she even rubbed off the remaining makeup on you.

satoru hasn't felt this horrible since he accidentally flushed down his sisters goldfish back in first grade. but it wasn't the same.

the goldfish didn't hate him. you did.

and he hated himself for how he made you feel. he hated himself for doing this to you. but god was he grateful to have taken on that bet. not for the money, but for you. because of the bet, he met such a wonderful girl who he was completely smitten for. too bad that the girl now hates his guts.

the weather matched how gojo felt. he looked like hell.

his usual outfits was replaced by a simple white t-shirt with sweatpants. the confident boy was now just a regular burnt out college student who looks like he missed out on eight hours of sleep to study for his physics final. he hasn't eaten since yesterday, deciding his body didn't deserve to be rewarded with food.

he made his way to the small mailroom provided for students. his face lit up when he saw you there, not looking so good like him.

"baby."

his voice startled you, making you drop your mail, watching as they scattered all throughout the tile floor.

you crouched down to gather your mail, avoiding his eyes, heart pounding in your chest from too many things at once, his voice, your brother’s call, the reminder of your father, the unbearable guilt, and now him standing here, looking like someone you didn’t know how to love right now.

satoru knelt beside you, brushing your fingers by accident as he helped you collect the envelopes. the moment your skin touched, a sharp breath escaped his lips.

thats when saw it. a bunch of letters from kaiser permamente.

"what's this..?"

you froze, hand curling tighter around the envelope like you could hide it, like you could make it disappear if you just willed it hard enough. but he had already seen.

you stood quickly, clutching the papers to your chest. “it’s nothing.”

“sweetheart…” His tone shifted, serious now. “that’s a hospital.”

"i know, i can read." you shot back.

satoru rose to his feet slowly, eyes still locked on you, his earlier exhaustion now sharpened with concern. “y/n?” His voice cracked. “is everything okay?”

you didn't know how it came to this. but you were hugging him tightly, crying into his chest like he wasn't part of the reason why you were going through it.

ending a/n : I hope you guys enjoyed reading the first half of 10 things I hate about you !!

133 notes · View notes

killmeleatherface · 2 days ago

Text

It Had to Be You

Part 1

Warnings: smut, so much smut. P in v, handjob, shower sex, lots of kissing, cheating, age gap relationship (not defined but reader is assumed to be in late 20s and Michael is early 50s) mention of kinks. Pls let me know more!

Established relationship/Engaged.

Dr Robby x F! Attending

Summary: You and Dr Michael Robinavitch started as friends, attendings exchanging information. Until he asked if tou wanted to go to a diner to talk about an especially hard shift. The rest was history. That was years ago and your forbidden fling became an actual relationship, boyfriend and girlfriend. And then the love of your life proposes. Life couldn’t be better, until it comes crashing down. You catch the person you couldn’t be more in love kissing his ex girlfriend in a trauma room when they obviously thought no one was looking. You instantly react with fight of flight instinct and flee home, using all your vacation and sick time. You escape, leaving behind no call or text for your fiance and get the first flight out of there. Now you’re back. And life didn’t wait for your arrival, it just kept on coming like a freight train at The Pitt.

——-

Fuck.

You couldn’t believe you were up at this hour, let alone 2 hours before. It never gets easier, especially after a prolonged vacation. You were on the day shift because The Pitt was severely lacking in staff and you were happy to cover when you could. And you definitely could, because you owed a majority of the day staff a big favor.

You walk through the metal detectors and give Ahmad a smile. He returns after a facial stutter. Ugh. Already?

You pull your bag tighter over your shoulder and keep going. Past the full chairs of the waiting room, past the eyeing nurses seated at intake. You just ignored their looks and said thank you with a smile as they buzzed you through the double doors of the emergency room.

“Well you’re a sight for sore eyes!” Dana immediately beams as she sees you walking in. “It’s good to have you back, kid.” You walk over to the short blonde nurse that is like a best friend and second mother to you. Langdon walks around the corner the same time you’re dropping your bag under the counter and says, “Oh! Didn’t realize you’d finally choose today to be gracious enough to offer us your presence, Spencer” in a very annoyed tone.

Fuck. How many more times were you going to say that today? You really should stop cursing you think, but maybe that habit can die another day. Today was definitely going to be a day where a substitute word wouldn’t suffice. “Hi, Langdon. Yes I’m back and yes I’m sorry. I owe you and Dana and pretty much everyone else in the department on days pizza.” Langdon looks at you still very unamused.

“That’s a start.” He walks away, picking up an iPad and heading away into a patient room. Dana walks next to you.

“Ignore him for now. He’ll forgive you. He’s more annoyed with you know who then he is with you. He’s been let’s say, less cheery than usual.” You pull your long black hair halfway up into a claw clip and turn to your friend, silently eyeing her to continue.

“Look, I don’t want to get into your business, but he’s been a wreck for the past month and a half. He definitely hasn’t been sleeping, I don’t know if he even goes home half the time. I know what he did was and is majorly fucked up and I’m on your side. I’m not saying forgive him by any means but just be warned, he’s not himself without you.” She reaches a hand up to put it on your shoulder.

“Also, you picked a hell of a day to come back because he’s on shift.” She eyes behind you.

————

10 weeks ago

The way Michael Robinavitch kissed you was electric. You’d never felt something so substantially soul taking until you knew his lips on yours. He was a drug you wished you could have more of, always itching for a fix of when you weren’t together.

Right now he was placing soft kisses up your neck, gliding by your clavicle, up to your jugular and finally nipping at your ear and whispering “is that right sweetheart?” When you moan in want. More. More. You could never get enough.

“Michael” you gasp.

“Tell me more” He replies through lips kissing back to yours. He leans back and looks at you in admiration. Like a proud hunter who’s bagged his prey.

You reach up to cup his face. His beard longer than usual, just the way you liked it. You raked your fingers through his facial hair and back to his hair, grabbing a gentle hold and pulling, just a bit of roughness to add to what you were hoping was foreplay.

Robby closes his eyes and tilts his head back. “Oh you’re naughty baby. Okay let’s see.” He says with a wicked smile. His large hand cups your jaw and you manage to suck his thumb into your mouth, causing him to pause momentarily, watching your pink lips wrap around his thumb.

He doesn’t stop long and instead glides his hand down your throat, putting pressure where he knows will make you feel a sort of dizzy but not cause any problems breathing. You moan and he responds by dipping his head to your shoulder, moving your oversized t shirt down. He kissed down your arm and said “I think we should lose this.” As his hands moved from your neck down and head under your shirt. You happily let him and he pushed himself up, straddling your waist. You pulled your shoulders up and he easily lifted the shirt above your above your head, throwing it in a random direction, taking his off and doing the same. Now you both were in your underwear, an obviously hard Robby beaming down at you.

“Beautiful girl. My beautiful girl. I could look at your forever.” He says in a gravely low voice. Sounding like he’s trying not to break. Trying not to rip your underwear off. Trying not to claim you in the most savage ways.

You bring your left hand into both of your views and smile.

“Well good thing you put a ring on it, baby.” You say, eyeing your large engagement ring that he surprised you with 6 months ago.

“Mmm I did, didn’t I?” Robby runs his hand back down your neck to your chest and palms your right breast, holding on to a nipple and twisting it. He eyes you and says “Baby I hate to do this but if we both want to get what we want then we need to have a quickie or you can let me take care of you in the shower.”

So that’s what you do. Immediately pushing him off, simultaneously saying shower and stripping your panties off. You run to the shower, turning it on to a warm temperature and feel Robby behind you. He glides his hand down your stomach and before he hits your most sensitive spot he says against your neck, “Before we get in, condom or no condom?” You crane your neck and close your eyes. You’d talked about going condom free since you guys were going to be officially married soon, but never got around to actually practicing it. You thought about it for a few seconds and you knew you wanted to feel him all the way. As an answer you turn around smile and reach down to his shaft. He’s so thick, your hand barely fits around it. You give it a few strokes and kiss him. Cupping his jaw and slowly waking backwards, into your steaming shower.

Robby senses what you’re doing and smiles through the kisses and moans. He pushes you against the wall and crashes into you. “Fuck baby I’m wound up, if you keep going I’m-” he says as you twist your wrist. He plants a hand against the shower wall and lets the water stream down his head and enjoy the moment. Finally he pulls your hand away him and in one quick motion he’s leaning down and grabs your ass, pulling your legs around his waist. He kisses you hard and walks the 3 steps to sit down. He has a larger shower in his apartment, one made of stone that’s about 10 feet by 10 feet. It’s very spacious and appreciated in activities such as what you’re partaking in.

Robby sits himself down and positions you on top of him. You tease the tip of his hard cock, rubbing yourself on it with your slick wetness. You make small circles with your hips, doing a sort of secret dance to entice your partner. You feel his cock jump.

“Come on baby, you’re killing me.” Robby moans with ecstasy. You don’t listen and keep going, but don’t get far when he puts both his hands on either hip and pulls you down slowly.

“That’s right baby. You know who’s in charge.” He slurs in a sex fueled drunken state.

You start riding your fiancé up and down feeling every inch of him until you hit 100% and you both groan. It’s amazing. He’s amazing.

After just a few more movements of your hips a familiar heat makes its space known in your belly. Wow, this is fast, even for him.

“Fuu-I’m gonna” you moan.

“Good baby, good. Me too. Let it go” he kisses your neck and thrusts up to you. You lose it and your heat spasms around Michael’s cock and you scream. It feels like it goes on forever and then Michael follows suit, finally erupting and filling every spasm of his cock be let go into you. His orgasm is loud and beautiful and you love watching him unravel.

It feels like an eternity has passed when your vision returns to normal and you sit yourself up. Robby hazily looks at you and smiles.

“Let’s finish this shower before we’re both late for work.” He says.

——

You couldn’t believe it. Of all days. Of all fucking days. Ugh! You should’ve checked with Dana about starting today, but you also felt if you called anyone and said anything, you’d lose your gumption and never come back. You still wouldn’t be here today, but you’d ran out of time to take off and you needed a job.

Whatever. If Robby is here, you’ll avoid him. It’s just for a day, you can make sure you’re on opposite shift of him after that. You stay in the back of the group for rounds. You’re an attending, it’s not like a resident who needs to impress anyone.

Mohan slides up next to you.

“Hey stranger.” She whispers as she bumps your shoulder. You look over to your best friend and smile.

“We’ve missed you here.”

You don’t know about that. From what you’ve already heard it’s been almost a shit show, more than usual, at least partly because of your absence.

“Thanks dude, but you’re a bad liar.” You smile.

“Well, I missed you. That’s not a lie. It’s so much more fun working a case with you than it is with anyone else, especially he who may not be named Mr Grumpy Pants.”

She’s talking about Robby and trying to be nice about it, since you’ve told her you don’t want to hear his name.

“Speaking of him, what are you going to do about it? Have you talked to him?” She inquires.

You look past the small crowd and directly at the man you’re talking about. He’s in a black hoodie and his signature cargo pants. He has his stethoscope around his neck and he’s talking with his hands about a case that the previous shift had. He always does that, he’s always doing something with his hands. It’s almost endearing, like a nervous tick. Like he can’t let them sit still or they’ll come off his arms and fly away.

You look at your friend who’s waiting for an answer. “No, no I haven’t. And I don’t plan on it. He doesn’t deserve it.” You say matter of factly.

Robby claps his hands and says have a great shift. Your immediately turn around trying to disperse with the group, meaning to sneak away, and you’re almost successful, until you realize you’ve left your phone in the kitchen on your last coffee run. Ugh. You head that way.

You open the door and you’re looking down at something on your badge when you come face to face with the last person who ever want to talk to.

“What the fuck.” Robby says almost too loud.

You roll your eyes and don’t make eye contact. “Just left my phone in here, that’s it.”

Robby puts his coffee mug down on the counter and says “You just left your phone in here?! You. Just. Left. Your. Phone.” He rubs his hands down his face. Another signature move with a part of his body your body is way too familiar with.

He’s malfunctioning. You don’t blame him. His fiance who he spends almost every waking moment with is right in front of him again. The same fiance who disappeared without warning 6 weeks before. It’s like you’re a ghost. A ghost of all things good that’s come back to haunt him in a way to hint at what a good life you can have. And he could’ve. He could’ve had you as a wife, a partner, a best friend, a confidant that will do anything for him. But he lost that privilege with a loss.

You don’t say anything to him. You try to turn around and he grabs your shoulder. “Come on, Y/N, that’s all I get? You disappear for 6 weeks and don’t answer any of my calls or texts and all I get is some bullshit about forgetting your phone? You show up back here without even an acknowledgement to me and I don’t get a simple explanation? I have to find out from Dana that you’ve gone home to your moms and you’re safe. I even called your mom, you know that? I never thought I’d have to call your parents on you. Like some sick fucking daddy daughter joke because of our age gap. It’d be almost comical if it was another situation. And now you’re here in front of me and can’t even-Youre my fiance and you won’t even speak to me!” He runs his hands over his face and through his hair. He leans his head down on his arms through the counter. He looks up at you. He’s eyeing you as if he’s searching for something. Searching for words you’re not saying, things he can help, anything. He needs something. Hes silently begging you to stop. But you haven’t really done anything. You can’t stop what’s already in motion, no matter how desperately you wish you could.

He’s unraveling. Actually, he’s already lost it. He’s broken. You broke Michael Robinavitch.

But you don’t care. You really couldn’t care less. You cross your arms and for the first time ever you wish someone would interrupt you and the man in front of you at work. Anything to get you out of this situation. You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t even want to look at him. You thought your vacation away would allievate the pain you hold in some fashion but you realize now it hasn’t even touched it. Robby has you seething with anger. The man you said yes to spending the rest of your life with. The man you dreamed of getting a house and picking out every little detail with. The man who could say sweet nothings to you as long as he was stroking your hair and laying next to you in bed. The man that at some point became someone who felt like was your missing piece without. Like you weren’t whole unless he was there. Now, standing in front of the tall doctor who’d you’d just decided flower choices for your wedding with made you physically ill. Or actually you were really nauseous. Ugh.

“Please, I’m begging you. Tell me what’s been going on. I’ve been this close to checking myself into the 9th floor. Please baby.” Robby steps closer.

He’s reaching for you. You step back.

“Robby, I’m not doing this now. Or ever. Ya know for a really intelligent guy you’re being a huge idiot right now. Think about it bud.” You point to your head. “And I’m not your baby anymore.”

You turn and head towards the door feeling instantly more nauseous. Fuck. Fuuuck. You cannot puke right now.

Robby again reaches for you. He manages to grab your wrist and flip you around. Your almost toe to toe with him touching shoes and you finally allow yourself to look up at his deep brown eyes. Man, you let your self think for a moment, how truly handsome he is.

Then he cups your jaw as he’s done dozens of times before and you grab his wrist, pulling his hands off of you. Something you’ve never done before. Robby tenses. He closes his eyes. In your relationship, you don’t just take your significant others hands off of you. He doesn’t know what to do. There’s always been such clear boundaries before, something you’ve had since your very first actual date. Where you learned Michael was a dom and wanted his girl to be comfortable being a sub. You weren’t at all unfamiliar with what he was asking for, and something ignited in you to prod him with your extreme interest. You weren’t surprised either. He had to be demanding for his job. He had to be in charge. He couldn’t lose his cool. That’s what a dom is. And right now he’s losing his cool. You know what he wants to do. He wants to pin your wrists above your head and leave tingling bite marks down your neck to claim his territory. He’s wondering how dare you take your hands off what’s his but he’s also tired and confused and seemingly malfunctioning. This is brand new territory for both of you and you wish you weren’t here.

Something ignited in you suddenly and you have the sudden empathetic bone you didn’t know you still had for Robby. You’re fully aware this man was your everything. And you were his. It wasn’t always such a clustered mess.

You step back and look at the ceiling, willing yourself not to cry.

You can’t break down. You can’t puke. Your body is fighting so many things at once. You put your head down and meet your match’s eyes. He’s watching you. Waiting. His mind still reeling.

“Listen, just box up whatever’s mine at your place and drop it to the girls at intake. Tell them to let me know it’s there.” You throw your hands up in defeat.

“Y/N, we’re supposed to get married here soon. What do you mean put everything in a box? You don’t want to get married anymore. What a fucking day.” You eye him.

“What a fucking day? What a fucking day? How about what a fucking month? What a fucking life I’ve wasted! Of course I don’t want to marry you!” You scream.

“You disappear for over a month, I almost put an amber alert out on you, I get no information , and now you’re calling off our engagement?” He steps closer to you.

“If you don’t want to marry me, why are you still wearing my ring around your neck?” He inquires. He’s reaching. He’s assuming. He’s calling your bluff. He’s doing anything he can to stop this conversation but still keep you in the room. You reach into your scrub top and pull out the chain, exposing a circle pendant with the letter of your first name. Not your engagement ring that you usually kept on a necklace while working because you loved to show you were claimed even if it wasn’t outright obvious. You reach into your scrub pocket and feel the cold of your engagement ring. You pull it out and hold it out to him.

“Here.”

Robby’s eyes widen.

“Besides I thought you’d be shacked up with Collin’s and my shit would be thrown away by now.” You say coldly.

That was it. That was what truly broke him. He lost it and tears formed in his eyes.

“Collin’s? What?” And then it dawns on him. “You saw that didn’t you? Please let me explain. I, uh, she, she kissed me and I froze. I know I shouldn’t have and I should have pushed her away immediately and I’m so so incredibly sorry.”

You don’t hear the rest of it before you feel bile race up your throat and you sprint to the trash can, pulling your hair back by instinct. You throw up whatever’s left of your breakfast and wipe your mouth.

Robby’s hand is on your lower back, rubbing circles. He’s over you obviously concerned. “Y/N, please let me..are you okay?”

“No. No I’m not okay.” You look up at him. Whatever, it’s not the perfect time but he doesn’t deserve perfect. You didn’t get it.

“But I am pregnant.”

AN: this will definitely be a series don’t worry! Idk how many parts but between flashbacks I have in mind and the future possibilities, it will be at least a few more parts :)

#the pitt #dr robby #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch #michael robby robinavitch x reader #Michael Robinavitch m #dr robby the pitt #Dr Robby t #smut #dr Robby smut #the Pitt smut

142 notes · View notes

killerplink · 1 day ago

Text

HOMECOMING

Pairing: Roy Harper x Female Reader

Plot: Roy's finally home after three long weeks, and you're not wasting a second apart. You missed his touch, his voice, the way he f*cks you like he means it, and tonight, you're making up for every minute.

Words: 9,3k

A/N: so uhm... 🥹 at some point some of you asked if I'd ever write for anyone other than Jason and Dick and I was like "nah I'm too obsessed" and then *cough cough* and THEN, Pinterest decided to show me some Roy Harper panels and my brain short circuited and went "this redheaded menace is so fucking hot and you WILL write for him" and uhm... I did. I spiraled. I wrote. I have zero regrets. hope y'all enjoy this horny little detour, besties 🏃🏻‍♀️

You're pacing around the apartment, practically vibrating with need.

It's been three weeks—twenty one fucking days too long without Roy. No lazy mornings tangled in the sheets, no filthy little whispers in your ear before bed, no warm weight of him sprawled half on top of you like you're his favorite pillow. Just the cold, empty space in your bed and the stupid ache between your legs that not even your own fingers can chase away right. Not the way he does.

Sure, he made sure to talk every night. Sweet little check ins, low raspy voice through the phone saying, "Miss you, baby. You doin' okay?"

There were even some breathless video calls, camera tilted just right while you touched yourselves together, whispering each other's names and pretending it was enough. But it's not.

You're so fucking pent up you can barely think straight, and it's all hitting you at once now that you know he's almost home. Your phone buzzed earlier, just a casual, "On my way, sweet girl", like he didn't just break you with five fucking words.

And now you're here, fresh from an everything shower and after digging through your whole lingerie drawer only to end up in one of his old t-shirts—because let's be real, he'd just rip anything else off anyway—pacing the living room, heart racing, thighs pressed tight every time you think about how desperate you are to feel his mouth, his hands, his dick.

You pause by the couch, biting your lip. You hadn't realized how much not sleeping next to him had fucked with you. You couldn't even rest properly these past few weeks, just rolled around at night in a nest of pillows, trying to trick your body into thinking it was him, but it didn't really work. Nothing works except Roy.

He's gonna be just as bad, you know that. That man clings like a damn koala when he's home, always got some part of him wrapped around you. Arm over your waist, leg slung over yours, face nuzzled into your neck while he murmurs half asleep all kinds of sweet nothings.

God, it's already been an hour since he texted, and you've been watching the clock like your life depends on it. Every little sound outside has your heart leaping into your throat, and you're this close to calling him, not even for an update, just to hear his voice, to make sure he's real and on his way and not just something you've been imagining for the last three weeks with your fingers stuffed between your thighs and your heart cracked wide open.

You're heading toward your phone when you hear the jingle of keys at the door.

Then comes a soft curse from the other side, metal fumbling against metal like he's trying to get the damn thing in the lock and not having the best luck. He's always been a little shit with keys when he's tired, and that sound—that exact sound—sends something wild rushing through your chest.

You don't even think, you fucking bolt. Your bare feet slap against the hardwood as you rush to the door, yanking it open just as Roy finally manages to get the key turned, and then he's there. In the flesh. Broad shoulders, wind tousled red hair, bag slung over his shoulder, that worn leather jacket, and a tired, hungry look in his eyes that softens the second he sees you.

You don't give him time to speak, instantly launching yourself at him, and he drops his bag, catching you effortlessly, arms locking around you as your legs wrap tight around his waist, hands tangling into his hair like you need to touch him just to believe it.

"Fuck, baby," he huffs out with a low chuckle, stumbling inside as the door swings shut behind you both. "Knew you were gonna hit me like a damn freight train."

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, eyes squeezed shut as you breathe him in—leather, smoke, that stupid cologne he knows you like. Your heart is going a mile a minute and your grip on him is borderline bruising, but Roy doesn't even dare to complain.

One arm stays wrapped around your waist, keeping you flush against his body, while the other snakes up your back to cradle your head, his palm splayed wide as if he's trying to cover every inch of you.

"I missed you, Roy," you whisper, breath hitching against his skin. "Missed you so fucking much."

He exhales hard through his nose, lips brushing your hair. "Yeah? Missed you too, sweet girl. So much it fuckin' hurt."

And God, he sounds wrecked. Not just tired, but starved. For you. For your skin, your scent, your warmth. His arms tighten around you again—gentle, like he doesn't quite trust himself not to crush you—and he just stands there, right in the doorway, breathing you in like he's been drowning for weeks and finally got to come up for air.

You don't even realize how long you've been clinging to him until your heart starts to calm just enough to breathe again. Your hands slide through his hair, fingers tugging gently, and you finally lean back, just enough to look at him. His face is flushed, eyes heavy lidded and fixed on you like you're the only thing on the damn planet.

And then you kiss him, crashing your lips into his with all the weight of the last three weeks behind it. It's messy and eager and needy, and he doesn't even hesitate—his lips part instantly, like he was just waiting for you to give him the green light to fall apart. His tongue brushes against yours, and you moan into his mouth, swallowing the sound of his own as you suck on it just to make him feel how badly you missed the taste of him.

You can feel the shiver that runs through him, feel the way his hands shift under your thighs and then move up, gripping your ass in both hands like he's been fantasizing about it every goddamn night. Which, he has.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he mutters against your lips, voice low and frayed at the edges. His fingers dig in harder, palms rough and warm on your bare skin. "You tryin' to kill me, baby?"

You just hum against his mouth, hips giving a little roll against him, just enough to feel it. That perfect dick, already straining against his jeans, rubbing against your bare, needy pussy like it belongs there. And it does.

The heat of his cock makes you gasp into his mouth, eyes fluttering as you tighten your hold around his shoulders. You weren't ready for how fucking good it would feel, even through his clothes. You weren't ready for how your body would light up the second he touched you like this.

And Roy? He's just trying to breathe. He's been going crazy these past few weeks. He missed you so fucking much. He missed your lips, missed the way you kiss him like you're starving, like you're trying to swallow him whole. Missed your hands in his hair, tugging at the strands when he kisses you. Missed the weight of you in his arms.

And now you're here. Warm and slick and so fucking wet for him already, the heat of your pussy grinding down on his cock like you're trying to mark him through the fabric. Like you're gonna burst if he doesn't fuck you soon.

"Fuck, trouble," he pants, forehead pressed to yours, hips bucking up into you once, rough and needy. "Gonna fuckin' cum in my pants at this rate."

"Roy..."

His name leaves your lips in a moan that's all breath and heat and broken need, and fuck if that doesn't go straight to his dick. He's got both hands on your ass, kneading it, gripping it like he's not sure whether to hold you tighter or just tear the damn shirt off you already. You can feel every slow drag of his cock beneath you as he grinds up into you—hard and hot and perfect, even through the denim.

He groans again, jaw tight as he kicks off his boots, barely managing to toe them off without stumbling. But he doesn't stop moving. Doesn't stop kissing you, doesn't stop rutting up against you.

His brain is absolute fucking mush, straight up short circuiting. Bedroom? Bed? Couch? Fuck that. He can't think that far right now. The only thing in his line of sight that can support your weight is the living room table, and that's exactly where he goes.

He steps in, crowding you up against it, and your ass meets the cold surface with a little gasp that makes his cock twitch hard in his jeans.

"Oh shit, sorry, baby," he breathes, but you're already tugging him in, not caring in the slightest.

One of his hands flies to the back of your neck, guiding you into another kiss—hot, open mouthed, messy. He kisses you like he's starving, like he's dying and you're the only thing that'll keep him alive. Lips plush, tongue greedy, teeth catching your bottom lip before he sucks on it. Your fingers tangle in the collar of his jacket, dragging it off his shoulders as you writhe beneath him, the kiss all tongue and spit and helpless little whines.

The second his arms slip out of the sleeves, the jacket hits the floor with a heavy thud, but his hands are back on you in an instant. Gripping your thighs, your waist, anything he can get his hands on, really.

Your legs lock around his hips again as he pushes in close, grinding against you harder, faster. The thick ridge of his cock drags right through your soaked folds and your slick is everywhere, soaking through the front of his jeans with every filthy, desperate little rut.

"Fuck," he mutters, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged. "Y'gonna ruin my fuckin' jeans, baby. Feel that? You're so wet, Jesus Christ."

But even as he teases you, he loves it. Loves how wet you get for him, loves how needy your little pussy is when he's been gone too long. His cock is so hard it hurts, boxers clinging to him from how much precum he's leaked already, but he doesn't give a shit. Nah, he can't even think about getting his dick out yet.

Because all he can fucking think about is how long it's been since he had his tongue buried in your pussy.

Three goddamn weeks. That's twenty one nights of jerking off in some shitty safehouse, fingers wrapped around his dick while he groaned into his pillow, thinking about the way you sound when you cum on his face.

Twenty one fucking nights without feeling your thighs trembling around his head, without tasting how sweet you get for him, without you grinding on his mouth, whimpering like you're losing your mind. He needs it. Desperately.

"Lay back for me, baby," he murmurs against your lips, all needy and hungry. "Let me taste you. Shit—I need it. Missed this sweet little pussy so bad..."

And God, you're already melting for him. You whimper the second he pulls back, even though it's only a little, even though you know what's coming because the absence of his body feels unbearable after feeling him again. But he's not gone for long. Just enough to grab the hem of the t-shirt you're wearing and drag it up and over your head in one smooth pull.

Your nipples are already hard, your chest rising and falling with shallow, desperate little pants, and Roy's brain just... shorts out. His hands come up like he's on autopilot, big palms cupping your tits with reverence, with possession, thumbs brushing over your nipples in slow, teasing circles that make your thighs twitch.

"Fuckin' hell, baby..." he mutters as he leans in, eyes locked on your tits like he's about to devour them. "You're so goddamn pretty. Missed these tits so much."

And then his mouth is on you. He licks one of your nipples first, slow and deliberate, flat of his tongue swiping over the sensitive bud before his lips close around it with a wet pop. The heat of his mouth makes you moan, your back arching, pressing more of your tits into his face like you need him to bury himself there—and he fucking does.

He groans, sucking your nipple into his mouth while his thumb keeps teasing the other, tongue swirling, flicking, mouthing every inch of your breast.

"Fuck, baby, you're so sweet," he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin. "Love these tits. My perfect girl."

Your fingers bury themselves in his hair again as you shiver under the attention, head tipped back, thighs trembling around his waist. But he doesn't stop. His mouth moves to your other nipple, giving it the same greedy treatment—licking, sucking, moaning into your skin like he's getting drunk off it before he starts kissing his way down.

Down your sternum, over your stomach, his lips soft and hot and slow. He licks along the curve of your waist, his hands sliding down your sides, gripping your hips, kneading your thighs like he can't wait to spread them open. He sinks to his knees in front of you like it's instinct, like it's the only thing his body knows to do.

And the moment he gets a look at your pussy—already glistening, so fucking wet you're dripping onto the table beneath you—he groans.

"Jesus, baby," he breathes, voice full of reverence and pure lust, his thumbs spreading your lips open so he can get a full view. "You're fuckin' soaked. Look at that pussy. Missed me that bad, huh?"

You clench around nothing at the sound of his voice, already trembling with need, and he sees it. Watches your pussy flutter like it's begging for his mouth, and that's it. That's all it takes. He's fucking gone.

Roy dives in without a second of hesitation, tongue darting out to give you one long, slow lick from your slick little hole all the way up to your clit, the flat of it dragging through your folds, and he moans right against your pussy.

"Fuckin' knew you'd still taste this sweet," he pants, mouth already back on you, licking and lapping and sucking like he's been in the desert for three weeks and your pussy is the only goddamn water source. "Missed this. Missed you."

And you're already shaking because Roy eats pussy like he's on a fucking mission.

His mouth is everywhere—lips wrapping around your clit as he sucks, wet and messy, tongue flicking over the swollen bud in fast little strokes that make your back arch and your fingers yank hard on his hair.

And fuck, when you do that? He moans—a deep, desperate sound that vibrates through your whole body—and it makes your pussy throb, makes your hips jerk up into his face.

"Ohh fuck, Roy—" your voice is ragged, gasping, wrecked already. You're panting, writhing, barely able to hold yourself up on your elbows while his mouth works you over. "Right there, baby, holy shit—"

You're so fucking close you can feel it. Your clit is swollen, pulsing with every flick of his tongue, and it's almost too much, too sharp, too intense, too fucking good. You're leaking all over his mouth, slick dripping down to his chin, your slit wet and aching, and he's making such a mess of you.

Then his tongue slides lower. You let out a shaky little moan when he licks down through your folds and fucks his tongue into your pussy—deep and slow at first, and then harder, faster, like he's trying to tongue fuck the orgasm out of you.

And it's so wet. His spit and your slick mixing, drool running down his chin as he thrusts his tongue in and out of your hole, groaning every time your walls clench around it.

Every moan you let out, every whimper and curse and breathless gasp, he feels it in his dick. Feels it pulse through his jeans, soaked with precum, the ache unbearable, but he doesn't stop. Doesn't even think about stopping.

Because Roy Harper's got a problem, aaand it's between your thighs. He's obsessed. Fully, helplessly addicted to making you cum on his tongue. Doesn't care how hard he is, doesn't care if he's leaking through his fucking jeans, his only priority is you falling apart under his tongue.

He lives for it. For the taste of you, the feel of your pussy clenching around his tongue, the sounds you make when he does it just right. And the way you look at him—eyes half lidded, mouth parted, sweat on your brow—it drives him fucking wild.

He keeps flicking his eyes up, checking your face like he always does. Making sure you're still coming undone for him, that your thighs are shaking, that you're using his mouth just how he loves.

"That's it, baby," he pants, pulling back just enough to breathe before he dives in again, sloppier this time. "Tastes so fuckin' good… c'mon, pretty girl, cum on my fuckin' tongue—lemme have it."

His tongue slips out of your pussy with one last languid lick, your walls clenching around the empty space he leaves behind, and then he's back on your clit.

Sucking hard, lips sealing around it, the tip of his tongue flicking fast, hot little taps that make your thighs twitch. And then you feel his fingers. Two of them, thick and calloused, slick with your arousal as he sinks them inside you like he knows your body better than you do. And he does.

"Roy," your voice breaks into a moan as your head drops back onto the table with a dull thud, legs falling open wider to take him deeper.

He's curling his fingers with each pump, stroking that spongy spot inside you like he's trying to milk your orgasm out of you, all while his mouth stays locked to your clit—licking, sucking, moaning.

And oh God, the sounds. The wet, filthy squelch of his fingers fucking into your soaked pussy, the slurp of his mouth on your clit. Your moans, high and gasping, getting louder with every second. You can barely breathe, barely think.

Your hips start moving without you even realizing it, grinding against his face, desperate for more, for everything. Your pussy clenches hard around his fingers, slick gushing around them, and he groans into you like it's his favorite fucking song.

"Fuck—Roy, fuck, I'm gonna—" you sob, eyes fluttering shut, nails clawing at the table as your whole body coils tight.

And then it hits. Your orgasm crashes through you, sharp and overwhelming and so fucking deep it knocks the air out of your lungs. You cry out—loud and shameless—as you grind your clit against his mouth and your pussy clenches wildly around his fingers.

You're shaking. Full body trembles, thighs twitching around his head, hands flying to his hair like you don't know whether to pull him closer or shove him away.

But Roy doesn't stop. No, he's obsessed, completely fucking gone. He keeps sucking on your clit, keeps fucking his fingers into your spasming cunt like he wants to wring every last drop of pleasure out of you. Moaning into your pussy, licking you through it, soaking his face, smaller aftershocks tearing through your nerves, your slick dripping down his wrist, making a mess on the table under your ass.

"Roy—baby—I can't—"

You're gasping, voice wrecked, chest heaving as overstimulation starts to hit.

Your clit throbs under his mouth, every flick of his tongue sending sharp little shocks through your spine. And usually? You love it. Usually you'd let him keep going, let him tease another orgasm out of you while you cry through it. But right now? You need his dick.

You squirm, moaning again, fingers tugging hard at his hair. "Roy—baby, I need you—fuck—I can't—I need it, please—"

He groans against your pussy, nose pressed to your mound, but you're twitching, panting, too sensitive to take any more, and finally you yank him away from your clit with shaking hands.

He pulls back, lips wet, chin slick, his pupils blown wide as he pants against your thigh, fingers still slowly fucking into you.

He presses hot, open mouthed kisses to your skin, your inner thighs damp with arousal, your body limp and needy on the table.

"Please, baby," you whimper, voice all soft and wrecked, thighs trembling as your hands cling to his hair, "fuck me... please..."

Roy lets out a low, broken groan like he's trying to stay calm, but then he dips his head and sinks his teeth into your thigh, sucking a bruise right into the soft skin just inches from your swollen, wet pussy. You twitch and gasp, hips rolling up toward him, and he groans again, his mouth still hot against your skin.

He pulls back, breath ragged, and his fingers slide out of your still clenching cunt with a wet, obscene schlick. He doesn't even think, just lifts them to his mouth and licks them clean, tongue dragging over each finger.

And then his mouth is on yours. You moan into it immediately, hands threading into his hair, dragging him down as his lips crash into yours. The kiss is deep, messy, tongue and teeth and desperation, and you whimper when you taste yourself on him—salty and sweet and so fucking much. His tongue licks into your mouth like he owns it, groaning when you suck on it, both of you grinding against each other.

His hands are already on his jeans, fumbling with the button, the zipper, like he can't get them down fast enough. You hear the rough clink of metal, the drag of denim, and then he shoves them and his boxers down just enough to free his cock.

And God, you feel it. The heat of his dick, heavy and hard, dragging across your soaked folds, and you moan into his mouth, your whole body arching off the table as the head of his dick catches on your clit.

"Oh my God—" you gasp, breaking the kiss as your eyes flutter open, pupils blown wide.

Roy groans like he's in pain, forehead pressed to yours, hips rolling slow and filthy between your thighs. His cock drags through your slick, the head sliding back and forth, smearing precum over your already soaked pussy.

"You feel that, baby?" he rasps, voice dark and fucked out, one hand gripping your thigh as he rolls his hips again, "how wet you are? That's all for me, huh?"

You nod frantically, gasping, "Y-yeah, all for you—fuck, Roy, you're so hard—please, just—"

He cuts you off with another kiss, all tongue and groans, grinding his cock harder between your folds, the head nudging your clit again and again, until your whole body is shaking from the pressure.

"God, I missed this pussy," he growls against your mouth, "missed how she fuckin' melts for me..."

You pant into his mouth, barely able to kiss him back at this point, lips trembling against his as you whisper, "Please, Roy... I need you inside me—please, baby, I need it."

He lets out a breathless, choked off curse, his hips jerking forward instinctively like your words pulled the movement out of him. "Fuckin'shit..."

He reaches down, his cock thick and throbbing as he fists it, lining up with your soaked, fluttering entrance. You can feel the heat of his dick, that heavy weight just resting against you, and your hips roll up in pure desperation as he groans like he's about to lose it already.

"God damn, look at you, pretty thing," he breathes, one hand sliding into your hair, cupping the top of your head, holding you close, "you're fuckin' perfect, baby—so soft, so ready for me... always are."

The thick head of his cock stretches you open slow, dragging against your slick walls, and both of you shudder—your fingers clutch at his shoulders, your moans spilling into each other's mouths.

"F-fuck, Roy—" your voice breaks into a gasp, and he swears under his breath, forehead pressed to yours, eyes squeezed shut as he sinks deeper.

"Jesus—tight," he pants, voice all fucked out and shaking, "this pussy's still so fuckin' tight, even after all that—shit, I missed this, baby."

You whimper, arms tightening around his neck as his hips roll forward again, slow and deep until he bottoms out—all the way, his cock buried to the hilt inside you.

The stretch is unreal, perfect and overwhelming, and your pussy clings to him like it's been starved for this. You're both trembling, breath mingling in hot little gasps, your walls fluttering around him as he stills for a second, groaning low against your neck when he feels you squeeze around him, tight and pulsing like you're trying to milk him already.

"Fuck," he murmurs, voice thick with need, "You feel—shit—baby, you feel so fuckin' good. This pussy's got a fuckin' chokehold on me."

You moan at that, hips twitching against his as you grip him tighter. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your legs wrapped around his waist, holding him there, keeping him deep. Every inch of him buried inside, stretching you open so perfectly you could cry.

He doesn't move yet—he can't—just grinds in tiny, slow circles that make your head spin, the base of his cock nudging all the right places while your pussy clenches down around him.

He kisses you again, slow and lazy, tongue sweeping into your mouth, groaning into every little gasp you give him as he finally starts to move.

Long, deep thrusts, like he's trying to feel every inch of your tight little cunt, his cock dragging against your slick walls, making you cry out every time he pulls back just to slide in deeper.

His hand stays in your hair, keeping your forehead against his as he fucks you, the other sliding down to grip your thigh, holding you wide open for him.

"Taking me so good, baby," he rasps, eyes locked on yours, "fuck, this sweet pussy's made for me, huh?"

You pant against his mouth, noses brushing, lips barely parted between gasps as you breathe out, "Yes—"

He groans, low and shaky, like your voice pours straight into his cock. His lips brush yours, tender and breathless. "God, I've missed you so much," he says, barely more than a whisper, hips pressing forward in another slow, deep thrust.

You cry out, head tipping back just a little as your back arches off the table, and he chases your lips, his hand tightening in your hair to keep you close.

"I missed you too, baby," you moan, breath hitching with each grind of his hips, "so fucking much."

You feel everything—his lips brushing yours, his hands gripping you like you're the only thing keeping him upright, the hot weight of his cock grinding into your soaked, fluttering pussy. He bottoms out again, slow and deep, and your mouth falls open, eyes fluttering shut.

"God, you feel so good—"

That earns you a sharp inhale through his nose, his mouth ghosting over yours as he rocks into you again, slow but deep, each thrust forcing needy little sounds out of your throat.

"Yeah, baby?" he murmurs, voice wrecked. "You missed this dick, huh?"

"Y-yeah, fuck—"

"My sweet, good, hot fucking girl," he groans, hips slamming forward just a little harder, like he can't help himself anymore. "You got no clue what you do to me."

You swear your pussy clenches around him even tighter just from the way he says that.

His dick is drenched—slick, obscene, wet sounds filling the room every time his hips slap into yours. You can feel how soaked he is, how your pussy just keeps milking him, precum spilling and mixing with everything dripping down your ass. Every slow drag of his cock makes you twitch, and he's so thick, so hot, pulsing with every stroke like he's losing it inch by inch.

Your thoughts are a messy tangle because yeah, you missed his dick. The stretch of it, the way it fills every part of you, hits every sweet spot like it knows your body better than you do.

But it's him—his lips on yours, the way he holds you like you're something precious, the soft, desperate moans he makes into your mouth. His eyes locked on yours like he needs to watch your face. The way he fucks you slow like he's trying to memorize you from the inside out.

Every single part of him. His weight pressing into you, the smell of him, the warmth of his body, the feel of his calloused fingers brushing your skin as he whispers praise into your mouth.

You swear you could cry from how good it feels, how badly you needed this. Roy's hips rock into you again, slow and deep, dragging a broken moan out of your throat as he grinds against your clit. You're so wet, the slick squelch of your pussy echoing every time he sinks into you—it's filthy, raw, like the sounds alone could make him lose it.

He watches your face like he's starved for it, like the sight of you all flushed and desperate beneath him is the only thing that's kept him breathing the past three weeks. Your lips are parted, glossy from kissing him, moaning so pretty for him, all soft and whiny. You're fucking glowing, flushed and damp and trembling and perfect.

God, he missed this. Missed you.

He never stops thinking about it—about you. Not when he's out there, not when he's trying to sleep in some shitty cot somewhere, not even when he's jerking off to your voice in his ear while you moan his name through the phone.

Yeah, he's gotten himself off—fuck, he had to—but it's not the same. It never fucking is. His hand doesn't feel like you. Doesn't squeeze and flutter and pull him back in like your pussy does. Doesn't make him feel like he's home.

You moan again, soft and needy, and his whole body jerks, a growl rising from his chest as he grinds deep into you, just a little firmer, like he can't help it. Your pussy is so wet, soaking his cock, slick gushing out of you with every slow thrust.

He can feel the way your walls clench every time he drags over that spot inside you, the way your breath hitches when he grinds down right against your swollen clit.

His balls are tight, his dick twitching inside you, but he bites back the groan because he's not fucking stopping. Not until he makes you cum again. He needs it. Needs to watch you fall apart on his cock. Again. Slowly. Properly.

His voice is low, rough, nearly trembling when he murmurs, "That's it, baby... taking me so good..."

Your thighs twitch around his hips, and he moans as your pussy flutters around him, that delicious squeeze making his hips stutter.

“Fuck, you're perfect. Feel so good, baby. So warm, so wet," he pants, his forehead pressed against yours. "Could stay buried in this pussy all night."

And he means it. God, he means every word. He's obsessed—utterly, shamelessly obsessed—with every part of you. How you sound, how you smell, how you feel wrapped him, around his dick. He'll give you whatever you want, over and over again, but right now?

Right now, he just wants to keep fucking you like this.

"Look at you," he whispers, hips rocking into you again, dragging out another desperate moan. "My pretty fuckin' girl. So needy for me, huh?"

You brush your lips over his, a breathless little whimper caught between your panting as you gasp out, "Roy, baby... I need your cum... please—"

And that's it. That's all it takes. He fucking snaps.

His cock twitches deep inside you, and suddenly he's fucking you a little harder, a little faster, just like your needy little voice told him to. Every wet slap of skin against skin is filthy, your slick leaking down to the table with each stroke of his thick cock.

"Fuck, baby—fuck, you want it that bad?" he moans, voice cracking as he buries himself deep again, your pussy sucking him right back in like it owns him.

And it does. It fucking does. His thrusts grow desperate, hips jerking as his dick throbs deep inside you, the head swelling just before he spills, moaning into your open mouth like he's losing his mind.

"Take it, baby," he pants, eyes squeezed shut, forehead against yours, "fuckin' take all my cum—"

His cock pulses, and you feel every hot, thick spurt of cum filling your clenching pussy, each throb making you cry out as it hits deep inside you. You're already so close, your clit aching, your walls fluttering, and the second you feel him fill you, feel that warm gush deep inside? You snap too.

Your orgasm crashes into you all at once, a full body tremble that has your back arching, your pussy squeezing down on him, milking every last drop. Your thighs shake around his hips, breath catching as you gasp his name again and again, almost sobbing as the pleasure takes over.

He feels the way your cunt flutters and spasms around his cock, still trying to suck him in, and it drives him insane. He moans into your mouth again, hips jerking once, twice, before he stills, buried to the base, your soaked pussy choking his dick with how fucking tight you are.

His lips brush yours, hot and wet and messy before he leans in and licks into your mouth, hungry and desperate. You whimper into it, clinging to him, your tongues slick against each other as he keeps kissing you like he's trying to breathe you in, like he can't get enough even as he throbs inside you, his cum leaking around his cock.

You're both panting into each other's mouths, bodies still shaking, the table creaking beneath you as you cling together—his hand in your hair, yours fisted in the front of his shirt, both of you completely fucking lost in it.

You break the kiss, panting, lips slick and swollen as you lick them slowly, eyes half lidded, fucked out and begging. "Roy?"

His forehead stays against yours, hand still in your hair, the tip of his nose brushing yours. "Yeah, baby?"

You gasp softly, hips shifting under his, your voice a breathless little whimper, sweet and so, so dangerous. "Fuck me."

And he knows exactly what you mean. Knows this slow, sweet, deep thrust shit you've been doing? That's not how you two usually fuck unless one of you is half asleep or coming off a long night. This? This was the appetizer. You want the real thing. You want him rough, messy, fast, you want your brains fucked out and your body wrecked.

He doesn't even blink. He pulls back and slides out just far enough for the head of his cock to catch at your dripping entrance, the tip slick and soaked in your juices and his cum. And then he slams back in.

The wet, obscene slap of it punches a gasp out of your throat, and his cum spills out around his cock, leaking down your ass and pooling beneath you on the table. He swears under his breath when he sees it—feels it—and God, it just makes him go harder.

His hands grip your hips, fingers digging in bruisingly tight as he starts pounding into your pussy, dick drenched, driving in and out of your soaked hole like he's got a fucking death grip on your orgasm.

"Fuck—that's it, baby, that's what you wanted, huh?" he groans, jaw clenched, hips snapping forward so fast the table under you starts to creak dangerously. "Wanted me to fuck this needy little pussy just like this, yeah? Jesus Christ—"

And you're babbling, moaning so loud you're not even sure what you're saying, head thrown back, hair a mess, eyes rolling as he wrecks you. Every thrust hits deep, hard enough to jolt you against the table, the angle perfect every time he slams back in. You can feel him everywhere—his hips slapping yours, his nails biting into your skin, the wet drag of his cock, stretching you out, making your cunt flutter all over again.

You swear you're gonna cum again already just from how filthy it is. Just from the sound of him, the feel of his body driving into yours like he owns you. And he does.

"Look at you," Roy groans, breath coming out rough as he fucks into you, watching the way you whimper every time he slams his hips into yours. "So fuckin' perfect—"

Your tits bounce every time he drives in, fat and soft and flushed, and his gaze keeps dragging up to your face—that face, all scrunched up in pleasure, lips swollen from his kisses, eyes glassy and wild. You're a mess. His favorite kind. His perfect fucking mess.

"Fuck, you're tight—shit, baby, you missed this dick that bad?" he pants, eyes locked on your face, the way your lips fall open, the way your lashes flutter every time he bottoms out.

You whimper so sweet and broken he almost folds. Every word, every praise from him sends another pulse of heat through you, your pussy fluttering around his cock like it's starving. You're so wet you can hear it—slick squelches and obscene little pops every time he thrusts in and out, your walls clenching down like your body is trying to milk him dry. And Roy's losing it.

His jaw is tight, brow furrowed, face flushed and chest heaving as he looks at you—really looks at you. Fucked stupid on his dick, hair messy, tits bouncing, lips swollen from his kisses. You're beautiful like this. You're his like this.

"God, baby, you've got no fuckin' clue how much I missed you," he grits, voice ragged, hips stuttering for just a second before he slams back in. "Three weeks without this pussy? Without you? Nearly lost my goddamn mind."

You cry out when he grinds into you just right, clit catching the base of his cock, your pussy clenching around him like you're gonna cum again, wrecked and desperate and so fucking needy.

"Roy, fuck—" you choke on it, back arching off the table when his thumb finds your clit mid thrust, rubbing quick little circles over the swollen nub, and it's over.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a fucking wave—hot, overwhelming, dizzying. Your clit throbs under his touch, cunt spasming around his cock like it's trying to milk him, to keep him right there. You're moaning, twitching, shaking, your whole body slick with sweat, and all you can do is cling to him as he fucks you through it.

"That's it, baby," he pants, voice dripping with praise as he watches you come undone for him. "God, you cum so pretty for me. Look at you, fuckin' perfect."

Your thoughts spiral, scrambled and filthy and sweet all at once. You love the way he fucks you, love it. But every time he's been away for a while, every time he's had to go without, he always fucks you like he's starving, like he's never gonna get another taste of you again. And it drives you insane in the best, nastiest way. Like he's trying to crawl inside you, like he needs you.

And God, you love being needed like this.

He leans over you again, growling low in his throat as he grabs your thighs, lifting them higher, folding you nearly in half so he can stuff his cock deeper into your soaking wet pussy. He's buried to the hilt when he crashes his mouth against yours, desperate and messy, all tongue and teeth and spit. He licks into you like he's still tasting your cunt on your tongue, like he wants to drown in everything you are.

Your lips are slick, swollen, parted just enough to let him fuck his tongue into your mouth, and you're both groaning, panting, needy—his hips still grinding down, cock thick and heavy and pulsing inside you as your walls flutter around him from the aftershocks.

And when he pulls back just a little, he doesn't go far, just enough to mutter, "Fuck, baby, you're squeezin' me so tight," before he slams his cock in again, hips snapping forward, filthy, deep, obsessed.

Your arms wrap around his neck like instinct, your body already knowing what's coming, your thighs twitching from the last orgasm, your pussy still clenching around his cock when he groans, low and hungry, and slips his hands under your ass.

"Hold on, baby," he grits out, voice wrecked, sweat glistening on his forehead before he fucking lifts you.

Your pussy slides up on his cock and your head falls back with a gasped, "Roy—fuck—"

He doesn't even hesitate. He plants his feet, tightens his grip on your ass, and slams you down on his dick like a man possessed.

"Oh my God," you sob, clinging to him like your life depends on it. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your body bouncing as he starts fucking you, panting, sweat slicked skin smacking loud against yours with each brutal drop. "Baby—f-fuck—it's so—so fucking good—"

Your words break, stutter, melt against the heat of your own tongue because you're already gone. Dick drunk, legs trembling, head spinning from how deep he hits like this. Every thrust is dizzying. Every time he drops you onto his cock, it feels like he's rearranging something inside you—stretching you wide, fucking you open from the inside out.

And Roy? He's grunting with every bounce, eyes dark and locked on your face.

"You feel that, baby? Fuck, this pussy—"

He can't even finish that. He's too obsessed, too overwhelmed, every muscle in his arms flexing as he fucks you through midair like you're weightless, like you're his favorite addiction. Because you are.

"Tight little pussy takin' me so good," he hisses through gritted teeth, voice so rough it scrapes through your chest. "Mine. Fuckin' mine."

"Yours," you gasp into his neck, all breath and heat and raw need.

And it does something to him, snaps something in that already obsessed brain of his. Roy moans low in his throat, slamming you down harder, his cock plunging deep into your pussy with a wet, obscene sound that makes you wail.

"Fuck, baby—" he huffs, voice punched right out of him, your cunt so wet and tight and slippery that he has to fight not to slip out with every brutal thrust. "You're gonna make me lose my fucking mind."

You're both soaked, your thighs sticky where they wrap around his waist, his cock absolutely slicked up with your cum, his own mess still dripping out of you, making every thrust louder, wetter, nastier.

You can barely breathe, let alone think. Your moans stutter out in broken, breathy sobs, your head thrown back one second, then lolling forward against his shoulder the next, your body clinging to him like your bones have melted.

His cock hits so deep, nudging that perfect spot again and again, dragging against your walls on every thrust. You can feel every vein, every twitch, every desperate pulse of him inside you. And your pussy? She's greedy. Clenching around him like she knows he's close, like she wants to milk every drop he has to give.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging hard, dragging his mouth back to yours, and you don't kiss. Not really. You moan into each other's mouths, open mouthed and messy, tongues licking, teeth grazing, panting and gasping as you chase that high together.

"So good," he moans into your mouth, hips slamming up into you. "So fuckin' good, baby—shit—"

There's no rhythm anymore, no pattern. Just desperate, sweaty fucking, bodies pressed together like magnets, like you'll fall apart if you let go. No thoughts. Just you, him, and the filthy sounds of skin slapping and soaked cunt getting split open by the man who loves you more than anything.

"I'm so close, I—" Roy chokes out, voice rough and wrecked, every thrust getting sloppier, harder, needier.

And you cut him off, moaning right in his ear, "Yes, yes, fuck me full, baby, please, please—"

That's all it takes. Roy growls, a raw sound tearing from his throat as his hips jerk, once, twice, then he freezes, cock buried deep, his whole body shuddering against yours as he cums.

Hot, heavy spurts of cum flood your cunt, thick and deep and so fucking much of it you feel it bloom inside you. You sob out a moan, body arching, pussy clenching down hard as your own orgasm hits again, just from the sheer pressure of him filling you.

"Fuck," he pants, arms shaking as he holds you up, your body jerking with every throb of his cock, every pulse of cum painting your insides. "Fuck, baby, your pussy—"

You bury your face in his neck, whimpering, gasping, your thighs twitching as your cunt clenches greedily around him, sucking up every drop he gives you. The pressure of his release, the way it spills so deep it pushes against your cervix—it's overwhelming, hot, perfect—and your walls just keep gripping him, milking him for more.

Roy groans again, low and deep, hips twitching as he spills one last spurt of cum into your pulsing pussy. His arms tighten around your waist and he buries his face in your hair, inhaling you like you're the only thing anchoring him to this earth.

You're both trembling, breathless and sweaty, still fused together, stuffed full and soaked and so fucking in love it aches.

Roy finally kicks off his jeans and boxers—those poor things had been bunched around his ankles this whole time—and carefully shifts onto the couch, bringing you with him, still snug on his cock.

You let out a soft, breathy whimper as he settles down, and he rubs his big hand up your spine immediately, murmuring, "Shhh, I know, pretty thing... I know."

You stay curled into him, face pressed into the crook of his neck, still panting, still sniffling a little as the intensity of everything starts to settle. Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, and he just holds you tighter, rubbing slow, calming circles into your back.

"You did so good, baby," he whispers against your hair. "So good for me." Another soft kiss, this time on your temple. "My perfect girl."

It takes a few minutes before you can even move again, before your heartbeat starts slowing down, your breath stops hitching, your body remembers it's not made of jelly. Eventually, you pull back just a little, blinking at him, eyes glossy and dazed but so, so full of love.

Your shaky hands rise to cup his face, thumbs brushing tenderly over his flushed skin. He melts into it, gaze soft as you lean in and kiss him.

It's not hungry like before. It's slow, gentle, deep. Tongues gliding together lazily, little moans slipping from both your lips as you kiss through slow breaths, like you're tasting every second of it. His dick twitches inside your cum filled cunt with each little shift, but neither of you move. You love it like this—full, warm, wrapped up in each other.

When you finally pull back for air, you don't go far. You keep pressing soft little kisses to his mouth—one, two, three, like you can't help it. He chuckles, low and warm, and you giggle, brushing your nose against his like you've got nowhere else to be but here.

"God, trouble," he murmurs as he cups your cheek, "I love you so much."

You grin, cheeks aching from how hard you're smiling, and you kiss him again, light and sweet. "I love you too, baby."

He presses a kiss to your forehead, lips warm and lingering. "You okay?" he murmurs, voice low and soft against your skin.

You don't even have to think. You just sigh, heart full, and whisper, "I am now."

Roy chuckles quietly, one arm tightening around your waist. "Yeah?"

"Mhmm," you hum, nuzzling back into the crook of his neck like it's the only place you wanna be. And it is.

You're both still wrapped up in each other, still full of warmth and cum and that slow, aching kind of love that settles deep in your bones when someone comes home to you. When he comes home to you.

Eventually, though, he mutters, "C'mon, let's clean up, yeah?" already bracing, because he knows exactly what you're about to say.

And of course, you start to whine immediately. "I don't wanna move," you mumble against his neck, brushing your nose there just like he knew you would.

He laughs, full and fond, pressing another kiss to your hair. "Trouble," he grins, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm all yours, baby. But we're sticky, and messy, and sweaty. And I'm starving."

You pout, just a little, lips brushing his throat as you sigh dramatically before pulling away. "Okay," you huff, and he chuckles again before kissing your forehead.

"Good girl," he teases as he cups your ass, and before you can even protest, he's lifting you up with ease.

You gasp and wrap your arms around his neck, legs around his waist, laughing softly as he starts walking toward the bathroom.

The second he steps inside, he pauses to set you down gently on the edge of the counter. You're still clinging to him when he finally eases his cock out of your pussy, and the sound you make is somewhere between a whimper and a gasp. His cum trickles out in thick, warm drops, sliding down your thighs, dripping onto the floor, and you both kind of pause to look at the mess before exchanging amused glances.

"Fuck," he mutters as he watches, "that's a mess."

You blink down, dazed, cheeks flushing a little. "That's your fault."

"Proud of it," he grins.

He finally pulls off his shirt, tossing it straight into the laundry basket, and you can't help but admire him—tattoos, muscles, that smug little grin that never goes away when he catches you staring.

You cling to him even as he leans forward to turn the shower on, arms wrapped around his waist, face smushed against his bare chest. He doesn't complain—he never does. If anything, he presses a kiss to your temple and runs his hand over your lower back like it soothes him as much as it does you.

He turns on the water, testing the temperature before guiding you under the spray, arms still around you. And the shower? It's not even about getting clean, it's about being close. You wash his hair slowly, fingers gentle as he leans into every touch, and then you press soft kisses to each of his tattoos as you rinse him off.

He does the same to you, taking his time, rubbing your back, cupping your ass, smiling when you squeak or shiver under his hands. You giggle into his chest as he kisses your wet hair and groans like a man tortured.

You're both clingy and silly and tender, laughing when the soap gets in your eyes, moaning dramatically when he kneads your sore ass in apology. You help rinse the sweat and sex off him, and he makes sure to wash you thoroughly, though his hands do linger in a few places, not that you're complaining.

Eventually, you towel off, still dripping a little as he grabs one of his shirts—soft and worn and way too big—and slips it over your head. You giggle again when he helps you into a pair of panties, tugging them gently over your hips with a kiss to your tummy.

"You're so cute like this," he mumbles, sliding his arms around your waist. "Drives me fuckin' nuts."

You help him pull on his boxers and shorts—because if left to his own devices, this man would just walk around naked—and the two of you head back into the living room to deal with the... aftermath.

He grabs some wipes and a cloth, scrubbing the table down with a shake of his head and a smile tugging at his lips. "Jesus, baby. We really did a number on this thing."

You snort as you gather your scattered clothes—his too—and toss them all into the laundry basket. "You mean you did."

He just smirks, glancing over his shoulder. "Oh, you weren't complaining."

You pass by him with a little smirk, and he swats at your ass playfully, catching the soft giggle you try to hide behind your hand.

You wander over to him, quiet footsteps across the floor, and wrap your arms around his waist from behind. His skin is still warm from the shower, bare under your cheek as you nuzzle into his back.

"Pizza?" you murmur softly.

Roy lets out a little laugh, all fond and low. "You read my mind, pretty thing."

You smile against his back and press a kiss between his shoulder blades before he turns around in your arms, hands sliding to your hips as he pulls you flush against him. He leans down, those warm green eyes locked on yours like you're the only thing he ever wants to see again, and then he kisses you.

It's soft—so, so soft. The kind of kiss that tastes like home, like love, like everything being exactly where it's supposed to be. His lips linger against yours, slow and gentle, his nose brushing yours before he finally pulls back just enough to press a kiss to the tip of it.

"On it," he whispers.

Neither of you moves at first. You just stand there, clinging to each other in the soft quiet of your shared space. But then he grins, and with no warning at all, he scoops you up into his arms, making you yelp as you grab onto him with a laugh.

"Roy!" you squeal through a giggle, and he laughs, walking you to the couch like it's nothing.

He plops you down gently and kisses your forehead. "Stay here. I'll order it."

You hum, pleased, and smack his ass as he turns to walk away. He throws a look over his shoulder, biting back a grin, and grabs his phone from the pocket of his jacket hanging on the hook.

You watch him as he orders, his voice calm and casual as he rattles off your go to order, the one you've both settled on after many lazy nights and far too many toppings.

Then he heads to the fridge and calls over, "Want some Coke, baby?"

"Yes pleaaase," you say, already curling up on the couch, voice all sweet and eager.

He chuckles under his breath. "Comin' right up."

As he pops the caps off two bottles, he catches himself smiling again. God, he missed this. Missed you. Missed being home, being around the little things that make it all feel worth it—your voice echoing down the hall, the smell of your shampoo in the bathroom, the way your laughter feels like sunlight.

He turns around, and his heart just fucking squeezes. You're already tucked into the couch, buried in that absolutely ridiculous fluffy blanket with his face printed all over it, the one he gave you as a joke a year ago, thinking you'd laugh and never use it. But you have, every damn time. It's far too big on you, swallowing you up completely, but it just makes you look that much smaller and softer as you flick through the TV with the remote, lips pursed in concentration.

His pretty little trouble, cozy and warm and waiting for him, and fuck if this isn't the best thing in the whole world.

74 notes · View notes

songmingisthighs · 1 day ago

Text

Pitiful, You’re Pitiful

<< prev | fic m.list | next >>

ch. viii

group : ateez

pairing : aged up!wooyoung × aged up!reader

genre : angst, mature

word count : 3,6 k

warning : mentions of loss, pregnancy, angst, talks of divorce, confrontation, emotional turmoil, i don't suggest reading this (at all) when you're in a dark place alr

a/n : O H E M G E E I'M FINALLY UPDATING THIS STORY !!!!! i'm sorry this took like a whole ass minute, hour, day, weeks, and then months. I've explained that I'm truly trying to find time update my written stories and i really wanna do it, but considering my change of career and other responsibilities, I'm left with the option of just making do with what is available to me at this moment. i apologize to everyone who have been waiting for an update for too long, i hope this update is worth the wait!!

buy me coffee ?

The day felt long. Too long.

From the time you met up with Yunho to the time you got to the doctor, it felt somewhat normal but now it felt like time was stretching so far that it felt like a month had gone by.

Now, standing at your front door after getting an ultrasound of the baby, your mind raced to the time you brought back news about Woohyun to Wooyoung.

You remember that it was spring; the sun was shining delightfully and there was a pleasant floral scent that filled the air, courtesy of your neighbour. You finally got the actual confirmation that you were indeed pregnant after weeks of feeling unwell. It was probably two months into your pregnancy when you were finally able to go to the doctor as Wooyoung had finally came home from his time touring with his friends, dancing with singers at festivals, concerts, and stuff. You waited so long to confirm because you wanted Wooyoung to be able to spend one-on-one time with Dayoung as you go to the doctor and if something were to go wrong, you tried to have Wooyoung by your side.

The moment you opened the front door, you were greeted with the sight of Wooyoung who had Dayoung on his shoulders, pretending to be an airplane as they goofily ran around. You couldn't help but smile at the thought that your mother-in-law was absolutely spot-on with her prediction that this was how Wooyoung was going to play with his kid so her and your father-in-law's gift in the form of a house was absolutely justified.

"Watch out for Mount Mama!" Dayoung giggled, causing Wooyoung to glance your way and visibly brighten. "I'm going to crash into Mount Mama!" he joked, rushing forward as quickly as he could while still being safe to swoop in a kiss from your lips as Dayoung squealed from the rush. "How was the ute doc?" he asked to which you rolled your eyes at him, "You need to learn the word OBGYN, Woo, you can't keep calling her the ute doc," you chastised. He cheekily grinned and shrugged as he carefully put Dayoung down on the floor, "Too many letters, not enough brain space. What's the verdict on the checkup? Can I boink you tonight or is there a gnome living inside?" You gasped and punched him straight on his shoulder, causing him to groan out loud and sputter slightly. "Jung Wooyoung, watch your mouth in front of your daughter! And why do you think there is a gnome living inside me?" Wooyoung cheekily shrugged and was about to say something smart when you felt something bubbling in the back of your throat and you cut him off, "I'm pregnant!"

Wooyoung froze with his mouth hanging open.

The words entered his brain quickly enough but his understanding was rather blocked. "Really? A-are you- WHAT!?" he screamed, jumping backwards, causing Dayoung to jump to the side in surprise, not understanding what's gotten her dad so... leap-y. With his knees on the floor, Wooyoung grabbed onto your hips and his eyes stared at you like you held the whole universe, "You're telling me there's a baby in there? Our baby? There really is a tiny gnome in there?" Though his phrasing was peculiar, you couldn't help but crack up while shedding a tear or two as you saw the love in his eyes. "It's only tiny because it's yours, you dork."

In one sweeping movement, Wooyoung swept you off your feet and twirled you around in happiness, causing Dayoung to screech, telling him to be careful not to drop you. Once you were down, Wooyoung grabbed Dayoung and twirled her twice before letting her down in front of your belly, "Here, here, Dayoungie, you see this?" he gently placed a hand on the left side of your belly and Dayoung followed suit on the other side, "Belly," she confidently stated with her firm lips and unblinking eyes, causing you to chuckle at how sure of herself she is. "There's a baby in here, Dayoungie, your little baby sibling!" Wooyoung excitedly claimed. Dayoung gasped and her eyes widened in wonder, "I'm gonna have a baby gnome sibling?" she whispered to herself in amazement. You slapped the back of Wooyoung's head when he burst into laughter due to Dayoung's answer, "See, this is why you should mind your words in front of our OBVIOUSLY innocent daughter!" you screeched but the smile on your face didn't shrink. "Well hell, it'll be a funny story to tell him! Who wouldn't laugh knowing that his sister thought he was a gnome?" he grinned teasingly.

Your breath hitched at Wooyoung's use of the male pronoun. "Boy?" you asked, "You think we're gonna have a boy?" Instead of saying something sarcastic or smart, Wooyoung simply smiled at you and stood back up, "Don't you?"

That one simple question made you burst into happy tears as you laughed happily. Dayoung thought Wooyoung had made you cry so she started screeching at Wooyoung while hugging your leg.

It was at that moment of absolute chaos that your family found out about the newest addition to your family. It was a news that no one expected but everyone welcomed so greatly.

"And now this..." you muttered to yourself, even more reluctant to proceed with what you needed to do at this point. The small ultrasound picture felt heavier than a truck and you couldn't do anything but shove the picture down the pocket of your pants, thinking that you'd know what to tell Wooyoung when the time came, probably after he told you that it would be wise for the both of you to separate or something.

You've never hated having to come home before, not even when you found out that Wooyoung had cheated. It was always you not wanting anything to do with him, not the house in itself. You found that the house itself is your sanctuary, somewhere you can rest assured about your decision and your life. But it was at that moment that you felt some resentment towards Wooyoung for making you feel such a way towards your own home.

"I'm back," you called out as you opened the door, taking now of the eerie silence of the house that was almost suffocating.

From the kitchen area, you heard some clanging before you saw Wooyoung trodding out in an outfit that was almost too domestic for your liking; a cream sweater and some linen pyjama bottoms with his soft blue-green house slippers, all supported by his untouched, softly-tousled hair. You almost lost all of your resolve right then and there, but the weight of recent events were so big on you that you had no choice but to pull away from any and all sense of delusion that might have clouded your mind.

Wooyoung sent you a small smile that almost brought you to tears but you had to stand firm. "I-" "Can we-" you both started at the same time. Realizing this, Wooyoung cleared his throat and put his hand out to gesture to you, "Please," he said but you shook your head, "No, no please, what were you going to say?" you offered back. Hearing you talk to him in a tone that was not sarcastic, cold, or detached made Wooyoung's heart ache as it reminds him of how things changed because of his stupidity. One wrong move pushed him into a spiral where he forced himself into the arms of another woman because he displaced his grief and sorrow just because he thought as the patriarch, he was expected to not break down, to not show any emotion especially when the rest of his household was hanging on by a thread. But it wasn't like Wooyoung could defend himself. How can he? Though he too lost a child, you didn't went out of your way to seek comfort in the arms of the first guy who allowed you to break apart to your heart's content.

"I... Should we talk in the kitchen? I'll make a pot of tea and we can just... Talk, I guess?" he offered. Hearing him wanting to... talk, it made you nervous beyond belief because while you have something to tell, you knew Wooyoung have something to tell also and you couldn't be sure about how the situation would unfold. Nevertheless, you nodded at his suggestion, opening your mouth to agree and let him know that you had something to tell him too.

Before you could utter anything, the front door opened and Wooyoung's mom came in, looking slightly dishevelled as she rushed in. "Oh, thank god you are here," she said as she moved to remove her shoes, "I was worried that I might have to track you down a little bit but you are, you are here," she rambled on, obviously intending her relief towards you.

"Mom?" Wooyoung called out to her, confused and unsure as to why she was there, "Wha- What are you doing here?"

His mom glared at him and stomped forward before she stopped and smacked her purse on Wooyoung's shoulder, causing the taller man to yelp like how he used to when he was a child. "You rotten selfish little idiot! I came here to save your marriage!" she exclaimed, turning around to you and her expression immediately softened as she grabbed your hands, "Dear, I... I... How are you?" she asked you, tone completely different than the one she used on Wooyoung which caught you off-guard. "I.. I..." you stuttered, trying to form words because the last thing you expected was to see Wooyoung's mother as you were not prepared mentally to deal with her, "I'm... Mom, what are you doing here?" You repeated Wooyoung's question, hoping to get some answer.

The way you called her mom almost brought tears to the middle-aged woman's eyes. With your divorce looming in the corner, Wooyoung's mom was holding onto every bit of connection she had to you. She had never felt such connection to any other people than you, people who are not her children at least. Not even Wooyoung's sister-in-law, who got married to Wooyoung's brother before the two of you and even knew the family LONG before you were introduced, is that close to your mother-in-law. She had even told you to call her mom almost right off the bat, somewhere shy of your first month mark of being Wooyoung's girlfriend. You never knew this, but one of the driving force of Wooyoung settling down with you was because his mom had told him that you were special, you brought all of Wooyoung's best qualities and even brought up qualities he never knew he had. That was why she took care of YOU so well. You'd joke that she was nice to you because she wanted to make sure that her son was taken care of well, but she immediately shot that down, saying that her son is a grown-ass man and she didn't need to nor did she want to handle the play-by-play of someone who could pay his own bills.

Knowing how strong her feelings for you were, it took Wooyoung quite some time to come clean about this mistake as in he had just told his mom the situation in details at 8 am when he finally broke down at the realization that there were no other possible road that the two of you could trudge other than divorce, and he just came clean. His mom didn't even say anything, she simply turned the call off and didn't talk to him for the rest of the day so Wooyoung took it as her being so angry she had to avoid him for some time or else she might blow up or blow him up. But apparently that was not the case as she showed up unanounced, probably ready to whoop his sorry ass.

"(y/n), dear... I can't begin to apologize for Wooyoung's mistakes and I know how much you must hate him right now, I... I had the privilege of not having to experience what you experienced but I beg of you, please don't tear your family apart," she said, voice shaking at the thought of her grandchildren having to be put in a broken family. You were surprised by her words, not knowing how to deal with the fact that your mother-in-law was begging you for something like that and it left you gaping like fish out of water.

"Mom, I... I don't know-" she cut you off by grabbing your hands in her dainty, more frail ones, "I- I know I'm asking a lot, I know I shouldn't even be asking you this but please, please, please don't leave things like this," she begged.

Wooyoung let out a loud sigh when he heard his mom beg you. He didn't know which was more of an issue for him, his mom putting herself in the middle of your family or his mom putting you in an uncomfortable situation by saying things she don't even quite understand yet.

"Mom, come on," Wooyoung walked over and pulled on his mom's arm gently, "Let's,,, Can we please not do this?" he softly spoke.

Much to his surprise, his mom moved swiftly, as if it was simply her reflex, to grab him by the back of his neck and stood him next to you.

"How dare you tell me not to do something when you can't even stop yourself from having an affair! With your employee no less! My God, Wooyoung, have you no scruples? Have you no shame- have you no STANDARDS!?" she yelled at him as if he was nothing more than an 8 year old who just got caught stealing candy.

You had every right to do... something. Team up with Wooyoung's mom to absolutely berate him, break him down, call him names, take a video of the whole interaction and put it up on the internet, monetize the drama so could get something in return like a nice Gucci Bag or something, or hell, you could simply kick him and his mom out on the basis of them ruining your peace. God knows you were owed at the minimum that much. But no, you simply sighed and shook your head, not wanting to delve too deep into this particular issue at that moment. "Mom, I... Can we please not do this right now? Wooyoung..." Even his name made you swallow the bile that was rising, "We need to talk about really personal and important things right now."

Of course, seeing as how her son was like, your mother-in-law shook her head and grabbed your hands tightly, "You can go ahead and call me names, hit me, scream at me, or cuss me out, i deserve all that for being a bad mom. I deserve all that for raising him wrong, I know that. But don't leave him, please, I beg of you, don't do it. M-my reason might be selfish, I might be doing this partly because I don't want my son to be a divorcee, but I'm also thinking about your children."

The sudden mention of your children caught you by surprise and the more you let the thought linger, the more hurt your felt because you realized that she was right, your children needs to be accounted for, especially the one that Wooyoung doesn't even know yet.

Your mother-in-law saw your demeanour falter, and she thought that meant your resolve was faltering, so thinking that she was doing some kind of favour to someone by speaking up, she continued. "(y/n), you... I have always loved you like my own daughter. I think of you as not just a part of my family, but I think of you as part of us, me, as a person. So please," she proceeded to drop to her knees with her hands still shakily grabbing yours, effectively causing your eyes to widen and panic spread all over you, "Please, don't leave just like this."

You were absolutely horrified to see your mother-in-law on her knees in front of you, begging like she had just been caught committing a crime. It was a well-known fact that your mother-in-law is a prideful person, and rightfully so, considering what she had gone through and how it shaped her. So to see her reduced to someone who had to be on her knees, begging like this, tugged at your heartstrings.

Immediately, you reached down, grabbed her by her elbows as gently as you could, and tried pulling her up. "Mom, mom, come on, you can't be on the floor like this, what about your knees?" it was your turn to beg, but the elder woman was having none of it, adamantly shaking her head like a petulant child. "Punish me if you must, but," you cut her off by trying to get her up even harder, "Mom, please, I- I can't do this right now, not today, please."

Even when Wooyoung stepped in, your mother-in-law still wouldn't budge, not even a little bit. "Mom, get up, please. You're making (y/n) worry," he tried coaxing but apparently it only made her even mad as seen from the way she pushed Wooyoung's hands off of her. "Oh, what do you know about making (y/n) worry!? After the things you did to her, are you really one to talk about what's best for (y/n)!?" she yelled at him before returning to look at you, this time desperately rubbing her hands together as tears brimmed in her eyes, "I will do anything so you could forgive my son and I will take full responsibilities for not raising him right. I will let you verbally tell me off and tell me how much I have failed as a mother because I have, I truly have and it is all my fault. Blame me, just blame everything on me, dear, but don't punish your family for it."

Seeing how the situation had turned out, you realized you couldn't keep your little secret anymore. This was not how you wanted to break the news, especially to your mother-in-law, but the situation was preventing you from having your way, so you had to roll with the punches even if it meant that you will definitely get hit.

You crouched down in front of your mother-in-law and gave her the softest smile you could muster without completely breaking down, "Mom... I... I really... After the loss I experienced today, can we please not do this right now?"

That seem to shut your mother-in-law up and simultaneously confuse the hell out of her son, as seen from the way their faces scrunched in confusion, which looked comically too alike. Through teary eyes, her eyebrows furrowed but she wasn't saying anything. You weren't sure if she was wordlessly urging you to explain or if she was simply trying to put 2 and 2 together. Nevertheless, you took a deep breath and finally the gravity of the news you received not an hour ago settled deep in you, turning your own eyes teary, "Mom, I had another miscarriage. I... I was pregnant through all this a-and I went to check earlier but they couldn't find a heartbeat. I'm so sorry for doing this again, mom," you croaked, voice and demeanour finally breaking as the confession left your lips. While it felt freeing, knowing that the secret you had been holding onto for some time was finally let go, it felt awful because verbalizing the event further pushed you into a reality where you lost yet another baby. You couldn't help but turn to look at Wooyoung, who had a look that was a mix of horror, disbelief, surprise, and denial all at the same time. "I'm sorry Wooyoung... I'm sorry for doing this again," you said before finally breaking into sobs.

It took a while but once the news settled in her mind, your mother-in-law finally reacted. The reality seemed to set your mother-in-law off because the next thing you know, she was wailing and hitting Wooyoung over and over again, screaming about how cruel he was to put his pregnant wife through such thing, telling him that if in the end he goes to hell, that would have been the mercy the gods graced him with. Your mother-in-law was never one to be this kind of emotional and considering her age and health, you were worried that she was overexerting herself so you tried to calm her down or at least pull her away from Wooyoung, who stood frozen like time decided to trap him in a loop where for eternity, the only thing he would hear was your voice telling him that you were sorry for another miscarriage. Millions of thoughts running in his mind, dulling all of his other senses, which made him somewhat desensitized to his mother's attacks. His thoughts varied but one seem to always come back; how could he put you in such a position while you were in no position to take in more stress?

"I..." Wooyoung tried speaking, he wanted to say something. Perhaps he wanted to start by apologizing for his mistake. But maybe he should start with how sorry he was for your loss, only it was also his lost. Should he begin by listing all of his wrongdoings from the very beginning? As hard as he tried, he couldn't even begin to say anything. But considering the cries that filled the room, maybe it was best if words were left unsaid at that moment.

network :

@sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

taglist :

@atinyreads @strawberry-yeo @soobiverse @vixensss @smally97 @maidens-world @yunhoswrldddd @imcoenffl @nescaffei @miaatiny @showmehoseok @tmingi @wlv-asteria @sunwoosbaby @hyukssunflower @remi-young @roguesthetic

@staytiny816 @dearinsaniiity @scentednerdenemy

permalist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17

69 notes · View notes