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ggukivrse · 22 days ago

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the art of pretending – jjk | 01

summary. when you and jungkook show up to your much anticipated graduation trip and realise neither of you had the guts to tell your friends about your recent break up, there’s only one thing you can do to keep the trip from falling apart: pretend.

but somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, you start to wonder if letting go was ever the right choice at all.

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings: exes to lovers, fake dating, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, angst, fluff, (eventual) explicit sexual content, swearing, ft. seokjin, namjoon, hoseok, jimin, taehyung, yoongi + four female ocs

word count: 4.9k

notes: the first chapter is here!!! i ended up cutting this into two parts so everything that’s going to be in chapter two was originally planned to be in this chapter loll. tysm to my bae @page-isa for beta reading and putting up with me :> as always, feedback, likes, comments, reblogs and asks are so so appreciated, like i love yapping on here loll. enjoy reading my angels <3

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⤷ chapter one — the way things go

and there’s too much on my mind that i don’t even want to try / guess it’s not far from the ordinary, they do say love is blind

The road stretches out ahead, long and quiet, humming under the tires. You lean into the car door, forehead pressed against the glass, fingers mindlessly tugging at the threads on the hem of your shorts.

Summer air seeps through the half-cracked open window, warm and heavy with the scent of trees and sun-baked asphalt.

You should be excited. Everyone else is.

A full week away — just your group, no classes, no work shifts, no group projects hanging over anyone’s head for the first time in four years. A final trip before the “real world” starts to pull everyone in different directions.

But your stomach’s been tight since the moment you packed your bag. And now, with every mile you put between yourself and home, it just gets worse.

“You’re really quiet,” Kiara says, glancing at you from the driver’s seat. She’s got one hand on the wheel, the other flipping the volume knob down on the music. “Like... unusually quiet. Do I need to be concerned?”

You shake your head without looking at her. “Nah. Just tired.”

Kiara makes a sound like she doesn’t believe you, but she doesn’t press, and you're grateful for it.

You glance over at her. She’s in an oversized T-shirt, dark brown hair falling in curls past her shoulders, sunglasses balanced on top of her head instead of over her eyes.

“I thought you’d be in full DJ mode by now,” you say, nodding toward her phone. “Where’s the summer playlist?”

She smirks. “I’m easing you into it. Jimin says my music tastes give him whiplash.”

“He has a point.”

She scoffs. “Please. Hoseok says my music’s amazing.”

“He says that about everything you do," you say with a smile.

She shrugs, casual. “He’s not wrong.”

It’s adorable how hopelessly smitten they are. Even after a year together, Hoseok still looks at Kiara like she hung the stars.

You remember when they finally got together, after years of dancing around it. Everyone in the friend group had seen it coming — everyone except them.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Kiara laughs, and you can’t help but join in. For a second, the knot in your chest loosens. Just a little.

"Speaking of Hoseok," you start, glancing over at her. “How come he's not coming with you?”

She sighs. “Shift at work. He tried to switch but his manager’s being a dick. He’ll drive up tomorrow morning.”

You nod. “That sucks.”

She hums in agreement, but you’re already half-lost in your thoughts.

As much as you feel bad for Hoseok, you're quietly grateful Kiara asked you to come with her. The idea of doing this drive alone — just you, a quiet car, and way too much time to sit with everything you haven’t let yourself feel — would’ve made the weight in your chest unbearable.

She hasn’t said much, but she’s always had good timing. Maybe she didn’t even realise how much you needed the company. Or maybe she did.

“Lucky me, I got upgraded,” you say lightly.

She grins. “Damn right you did.”

The playlist switches songs, something soft and nostalgic. You stare out the window again, at the lazy sway of trees and the occasional flicker of a passing car.

“I can’t believe we actually pulled this trip off,” Kiara says, after a beat. “Twelve people committing to anything at the same time? Miracle.”

You nod. “Taehyung’s been talking about it since first year.”

“Yeah, and threatening to disown us if anyone bailed.”

You huff out a small laugh.

Back when this trip was just an idea tossed around during late-night study sessions and half-finished group projects, you'd been genuinely excited — borderline giddy, even. The promise of a full week at a fancy resort with your closest friends had felt like the perfect reward after years of deadlines, breakdowns, and pulling all-nighters on cheap coffee and instant noodles.

It was one of those plans that didn’t feel real at first — the kind of thing you talk about just to survive the semester — but then slowly, it started taking shape. Rooms were booked. Deposits paid. Group chats flooded with outfit ideas and packing lists.

You remember counting down the months, then the weeks. You’d imagined bonfires and inside jokes, sunsets by the water, slow mornings in a warm bed.

Back then, this trip had felt like the light at the end of a very long tunnel. Something to look forward to. Something certain.

Now, you can barely keep the dread from crawling up your throat.

“You sure you’re good?” Kiara asks again, gentler this time.

You blink, pulled back to the present. “Yeah. Just... a lot on my mind.”

Again, she doesn’t push. Just gives you a side glance and says, “Well, don’t overthink it. We’ve got a whole week of sun, overpriced cocktails, and probably at least one group fight. You’ll be fine.”

You offer a small smile. “Yeah, you're right. I’ll be fine.”

But your stomach’s still a mess, and the name you’ve been avoiding thinking about drags itself right back to the front of your mind.

Jungkook.

You haven’t seen him in a month.

Not since it ended.

And in about an hour, you’re going to be standing under the same roof as him — spending an entire week in the same space, breathing the same air, pretending it doesn’t feel like your insides are still bruised from the last time you spoke.

A small, irrational part of you hopes he won’t show. That something will come up. That he’ll decide it’s not worth it.

But you know him. He’ll be there.

Of course he will.

Kiara says something — probably teasing, probably meant to distract you — and you laugh on instinct. Keep the smile on your face, even as dread pools low in your gut.

This was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime.

You glance out the window again, the road narrowing in the distance.

Now, a part of you can't stop looking for the nearest exit.

You and Kiara are the first ones to arrive.

She pulls into the sandy lot just off the coastal road, the tires crunching softly over sunbaked gravel before the car settles into park. The air smells like salt and sunscreen, and the soft hiss of waves reaches you even before you open the door.

You step out slowly, blinking against the late afternoon sun. It’s warm but breezy, the kind of weather that clings just right to your skin.

The place looks exactly like the photos Namjoon sent in the group chat months ago — quiet, tropical, and beautiful.

Curved thatched-roof villas nestle into thick palm trees, wrapped around a smooth wooden deck that opens to a private pool. Soft lights glow under the railings, giving the whole place a warm, cosy feel. White umbrellas shade loungers facing the ocean, just a few steps off the deck and onto clean, untouched sand.

Seokjin had pulled a few strings to make it happen — his aunt owns the place, a family-run beachside resort tucked just far enough from the touristy areas that it still feels private. He managed to get the whole property reserved just for the twelve of you for the week. No strangers. No noise from other guests. Just your group, the ocean, and time that doesn’t need filling.

It's quiet. Calm.

You breathe in, hoping the calm will seep into you too. It doesn’t.

Kiara rounds the back of the car and stretches with a loud groan, sunglasses pushed up into her hair. “This is so cute,” she says, scanning the view. “God, I’m so glad we actually made it.”

You nod, eyes skimming the road. She leans against the car beside you, and for a while, neither of you say much.

The parking lot doesn’t stay quiet for long.

Taehyung and Yasmine roll in first, their white SUV kicking up dust as it slides into the spot next to Kiara’s. The engine barely cuts before Taehyung pushes open the door and steps out.

You’re already walking over but he gets to you first, greeting you with a wide boxy smile and outstretched arms. You let him pull you into a warm hug that's just dramatic enough to be on-brand.

Yasmine climbs out slower, adjusting her sunglasses with one hand while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She beams at you, dimples on display.

"God, I haven't seen you in forever," Taehyung sighs as he steps back. "Thought I'd catch you at Ari's birthday but you weren't there."

"I've just been busy."

It's not quite a lie, but not the complete truth either.

"Quite being such a workaholic, yeah? You have all the time to do that once summer ends

Yasmine laughs softly under her breath. “You cannot be talking right now, babe."

You snort as he playfully rolls his eyes.

Yasmine steps forward and pulls you into a hug of her own — tighter, less showy than Taehyung’s, but no less sincere. “We did miss you though. Go MIA on us again and we will track you down,” she says simply.

“I missed you guys too,” you murmur. The smile on your face has started to hurt your cheeks, but you can't stop grinning. It's been too long since you've genuinely felt so content, and the trip hasn't even properly started yet.

A familiar hatchback glides into the lot just as Yasmine and Taehyung pull Kiara into matching hugs, loud and overlapping. You squint into the sunlight, shielding your eyes until you catch the unmistakable sight of Ari behind the wheel — one arm slung casually over the open window.

The sun glints off the gold hoops in her ears, the fine chain around her neck, the chipped red polish on her fingers tapping the side of the door. She parks smoothly with one hand, and a wide smile curls across her features the moment she spots you.

Namjoon climbs out of the passenger seat with a long, slow stretch, like he’s waking up from a nap.

“Finally,” you call out, grinning, arms already out.

Ari steps out and shuts the door with her hip. “Bro, we passed the same creepy fruit stand three times. I was ready to fight the GPS.”

She strides over, pulls you into a hug that’s tight and real. She smells like grapefruit body spray and road trip exhaustion. “God, you’re alive,” she mutters into your shoulder. “I was convinced you bailed.”

You laugh. “I thought you would. You hate driving longer than thirty minutes.”

“Don’t remind me. Namjoon promised vibes and delivered car sickness.”

“I heard that,” Namjoon says, pulling you into a side hug of his own. He’s warm and solid, and his smile is small but real. “Still made it before sunset. That’s what counts.”

“Barely,” you mutter. “Kiara drove.”

“I heard that,” Kiara calls from behind the SUV, dragging her bag out with one hand and an iced tea in the other. “And we didn’t even get lost.”

You’re about to fire back a reply when the loud, familiar hum of a motorbike engine reaches your ears.

The sound hits like muscle memory — instant recognition, not even a second of doubt.

You don’t turn. You don’t have to.

And still, your body goes tense. You keep your gaze low, focused on the faded scuff mark near the toe of your shoe, but your ears are tuned in with brutal clarity.

The engine cuts.

Then boots hit dirt.

“Hey,” a voice calls out — easy, warm, annoyingly smooth. “Sorry I’m late.”

You finally look up.

Jungkook pulls off his helmet, a lazy sort of grin spreading across his face as he scans the group. His hair’s slightly flattened from the helmet, but it somehow works — messy, effortless, and still irritatingly pretty. He adjusts his shirt with one hand, and the fabric clings to the lines of his chest like it has a personal vendetta against your peace of mind.

He looks… fine.

Normal.

Like nothing’s weird. Like there’s no history. Like he didn’t once hold your heart like it was breakable and then drop it like he didn’t even notice.

“Look who’s finally here,” Namjoon calls, smiling like Jungkook isn’t at all late. “Took you long enough.”

“My bad,” Jungkook says, laughing a little as he walks toward the group. “GPS had me driving everywhere but the correct place.”

He makes the rounds casually — daps up Taehyung, hugs Yasmine and Ari in turn, nods at Kiara with that friendly chin-tilt he always does. When he reaches Namjoon, they exchange one of those quiet, guy-coded, half-shoulder embraces.

And then his eyes flick to you.

For half a second, his smile doesn’t change. It just softens at the edges — subtle, like a reflex.

Your stomach tightens.

“Hey,” he says.

You manage something that feels like a nod. “Hey.”

That’s all. No hug. No small talk. Not even eye contact that lasts longer than it needs to.

He doesn’t push it.

You try to focus on the group again, on Ari saying something about which rooms have outlets, but the back of your neck is hot. You’re not sure if it’s the sun or him or both.

You think that’s it — that maybe you’ll be able to forget he’s even here for a bit — when suddenly, from just across you, his voice cuts in again.

“Oh— I brought that thing you left at my place, by the way.”

You blink. For a moment, you’re sure he’s talking to someone else — but when you look up, he’s already looking at you.

“What?”

“That thing,” he says again, like it should be obvious. “You left it last weekend. I figured you’d want it back.”

Your brain stutters.

Last weekend?

You haven’t been to his place in weeks. You’ve barely even texted since the breakup. You definitely didn’t leave anything there last weekend because you were nowhere near there.

He says it so casually. So matter-of-fact.

You look at him — really look — and for the first time since he arrived, you see something behind the relaxed exterior. It’s quick. Too fast to name. But it’s not nothing.

“What… what are you talking about?” you ask, quietly.

He just jerks his head toward the bike. “C’mere for a sec. I’ll show you.”

And just like that, he’s already turning, walking back toward the motorbike like this is completely normal.

You don’t move at first. You just stand there, frowning, trying to make sense of what he said.

You didn’t leave anything. You know you didn’t.

So what the hell is he doing?

You glance back at the others — still busy, still loud, still completely out of earshot. No one even seems to notice that Jungkook is beckoning you away like it’s just another part of the day.

You hesitate.

Then, against your better judgment, your feet move anyway.

The gravel crunches beneath your shoes as you follow him, the group's voices turning to background noise — laughter, zippers, the thunk of a cooler hitting the ground. Faint but fading.

He stops near the bike, facing away, like he’s waiting for you to say something first.

You take the bait.

“What the fuck are you on about?” you say, sharp, not bothering to soften it.

He turns then. Slowly. His face is tighter now — still calm, but the easy smile from earlier is long gone. There’s something clipped in the way he exhales.

“You didn’t tell them?”

You blink. “Tell who what?”

“The group,” he says, like it’s obvious. “You didn’t tell them we broke up.”

You stare at him.

A breeze cuts through the clearing, rustling the edge of your shirt. You feel it but don’t move. Your brain is still catching up.

“I thought you told them,” you say finally, frowning.

He huffs a short, disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. “No. I didn’t. Clearly.”

Your stomach sinks.

You shift your weight, eyes flicking toward the group — still too far to hear, but not far enough to not feel it.

“So,” you say slowly, “you’re telling me… they all still think we’re together?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately. He just gives you a look. A quiet, restrained yes.

You blink again, the weight of that landing hard and uneven in your chest. Your thoughts start tripping over each other.

“That’s fine,” you say quickly, stubborn. “I’ll just tell them. I’ll— we’ll clear it up.”

“No,” he says, almost before the words leave your mouth. His tone is firmer now, more certain.

You narrow your eyes. “Why not?”

He looks at you, and for a second, he seems like he’s debating whether to say anything at all.

Then he sighs and leans back slightly, arms crossed.

“Because I’m like eighty percent sure Seokjin’s planning to propose to Haeun at the end of this trip.”

You blink.

“What?”

“He asked me about ring sizes a month ago. And he’s been weirdly nervous in the group chat. You didn’t notice?”

You hadn’t. Or maybe you had and just didn’t register it. You're mind has been hazy for the past few weeks, and the person to blame is standing opposite you.

Jungkook shakes his head like it’s obvious, then gestures vaguely toward the resort. “He’s gonna do it. Probably by the beach. Probably with fireworks or some corny shit. It’s gonna be a big thing.”

You stare at him, arms crossed now too, trying to piece it all together.

“And if we drop this whole breakup bomb now,” he continues, “that’s all anyone’s gonna talk about. Not the proposal. Not the memories. Just… us. Ending.”

You don’t answer right away.

Because he’s not wrong. You know he’s not wrong.

You can already picture it — the weird silences, the whispered side conversations, the heavy tension whenever someone says “remember when—” and then catches themselves. All of it looping back to you two. To what used to be you two.

And Seokjin — the guy who makes toast like it’s a grand gesture, who once cried at a dog food commercial — he doesn’t deserve that. Not on his big moment.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fuck.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything.

You look at him again.

And there’s a flicker of something you can’t name on his face. Not smugness, not satisfaction. Just… tired honesty.

Neither of you wanted this.

But here it is.

And now you have to deal with it.

You cross your arms tighter, trying to ground yourself with the weight of them. The sun’s lower now, casting long shadows behind the bike, and you can hear the faint sound of Kiara yelling something, probably about food or wine.

But none of it matters.

Not when your very existence here suddenly feels like a live wire.

You glance at Jungkook again, brows drawn. “Okay… so what are you planning to do?”

He hesitates — just a breath, but you catch it.

Then he gives you a look. One you know too well.

That don’t be mad look.

“...You’re gonna hate me for this,” he says, almost like he’s bracing for impact, “but I think we should just… pretend. For the week.”

Your head jerks back a little, eyebrows raised. “Pretend?”

“Yeah,” he says, quickly, like speeding through it might make it sound less insane. “Just for now. Just until the trip’s over.”

You stare at him like he’s grown another head.

“Jungkook.”

“You already said it — you were gonna tell them anyway, right?” he shrugs. “So you’re not lying, technically. You’re just… delaying.”

Your mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. “We broke up one month ago.”

“Yeah. I know. I was there.”

“And now you want us to pretend that we’re still dating.”

“For one week,” he says, holding up a finger like that somehow makes it reasonable. “We dated for four years. What’s one more week gonna do?”

You blink at him.

Hard.

A part of you still doesn't want to believe that you spent four years in a relationship that ended up leading to nothing. All of your college years spent focusing on you and Jungkook, just for everything to just end so abruptly.

“This is not the same as being together for four years.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“You’re actually being serious.”

“I am serious,” he says, voice exasperated. “Look, the rooms are already organised. All the couples are paired up. If we tell them now, we'll have to crash someone else’s setup and that'll just ruin the trip more.”

You hate that he’s thought this through.

You hate even more that he’s not totally wrong.

You groan under your breath, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. “God. This is so dumb.”

“I know.”

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“Yeah, well… you did.”

You drop your hands, exhaling hard. Your eyes meet his again. His face is calm, but there is a flicker of tension behind his eyes. Like he’s holding something in. Like this is costing him, too, but he’s choosing not to show it.

You want to fight it. You should fight it.

But then you think of Seokjin’s dumb soft smile, the way he talks about Haeun like she built the stars, and how excited everyone is to be here together.

You can’t ruin that. You won’t be the reason this trip turns into a bad memory.

So you sigh. Heavily. Like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the ground.

“Fine,” you mutter.

You don’t meet his eyes when you say it. You just brush past the stubborn knot in your chest and take a step forward.

Jungkook shifts his weight, then holds out his hand toward you like it’s nothing. Like this is casual. Normal.

“Okay,” he says, almost too breezy. “Hold my hand.”

You blink. “What?”

“C’mon,” he says, like you’re the one being weird. “We’re walking back. We’re gonna act like a couple, or someone’s gonna know something’s up.”

You stare at him.

Because it’s not that he’s wrong. It’s that he said it so simply. It annoys you how easy this seems to be for him — to just pretend to be in love with you again.

It makes you wonder if he had been putting up an act for the entirety of your relationship.

You open your mouth to argue, but then close it again. You guys were never lowkey when you were together. You didn’t do subtle. If you suddenly walk back ten feet apart and barely acknowledging each other, someone will notice. Probably Ari first. She always knows when something is up.

You exhale, slow and resigned.

“God, we were so annoying with the PDA,” you mutter, almost to yourself.

Jungkook snorts. “Yeah. That’s kinda on us.”

You eye his outstretched hand, hesitate for another second. And then — with every ounce of reluctance you can physically manifest — you slide your hand into his, fingers fitting between his like muscle memory.

He curls his fingers around yours automatically, warm and easy.

Too easy.

You stare at your joined hands for a second longer than you mean to.

It’s ridiculous how fast your body remembers this. How natural it feels — the shape of his hand, the calloused pads of his fingers, the way his thumb always rests along the side of yours without even thinking.

You look away quickly.

Your chest does something strange and quiet, and you shut the door on it before it can speak.

It’s not real. Not anymore.

The sound of tires on gravel cuts through your thoughts.

You glance up just as a car eases around the bend, pulling into the last open spot in the lot. It's Seokjin’s car — you recognise it immediately — and the moment it comes to a stop, the passenger doors swing open in near perfect unison.

Jimin hops out first, stretching like he’s just stepped off a ten-hour flight instead of a two-hour drive. He runs a hand through his blonde locks, a smile enveloping is features the moment he spots you all.

He’s dressed like he put thought into looking effortless — loose tee, chain glinting at his collar, a wrist stacked with bracelets that clink faintly when he moves to grab his bag from the seat.

Yoongi follows behind him, slower, more deliberate. He slings a canvas duffel over one shoulder and shuts the car door loudly.

You watch as they start walking toward the group — Jimin already waving, Yoongi just nodding at someone — and then the driver’s door creaks open.

Seokjin steps out with one hand braced on the roof, blinking against the sun. His shirt’s a little wrinkled from the drive, but his hair is neat, like he smoothed it down at the last gas station stop. He circles the car, pulls open the back door, and starts hauling out bags with a quiet sort of efficiency.

Haeun steps out more carefully, eyes scanning the scenery, one hand smoothing the back of her hair. She adjusts her sleeves, then quietly shuts the door behind her. No big entrance — just a soft, polite smile as she approaches the group a few steps behind Seokjin.

"This isn't bad," Yoongi says, giving the area a once-over as he adjusts the strap on his shoulder.

Jimin grins, throwing a look back at him. “You sound almost impressed.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Just expected more bugs.”

“There will be bugs,” Kiara calls from the trunk of her car, holding up a bottle of bug spray like a threat. “But I brought protection.”

“Of course you did,” Jimin laughs.

Jungkook steps in, releasing your hand briefly to clap Jimin on the back before pulling him into a hug. “Good to see you, dude. You took your sweet time getting here,” he says.

Jimin just grins. “Fashionably late.”

Without looking, Jungkook reaches back for your hand and finds it on instinct, fingers sliding back between yours like he never let go in the first place.

Taehyung slings his hands around Yoongi dramatically, even to his standards. Yoongi lets it happen for about three seconds before grumbling, “You’re clinging.”

“You love it,” Taehyung says, squeezing tighter.

“I tolerate it,” Yoongi corrects, deadpan, though the corner of his mouth twitches upward.

Taehyung lets go with a satisfied grin, already reaching for his bag, and Yoongi just shakes his head, muttering something under his breath as he adjusts his duffel.

Jimin’s halfway through complimenting Haeun — something about how her top matches the sky, or the sea, or maybe both — and she just smiles, quiet and a little bashful, before mumbling a thank you and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Seokjin glances over at the exchange with a faint smile but doesn’t say anything, just lifts something from the trunk with a grunt.

It’s starting to annoy you how in love all your friends are. It feels like the universe mocking you — like every laugh, every shared glance, every easy touch is some private joke you’ve been left out of.

Yasmine resting her head on Taehyung’s shoulder, Namjoon glancing over at Ari every time he makes a joke just to watch her eyes crinkle into crescent moons, Jimin and Yoongi refusing to admit that they like each other despite the constant glances and smiles that everyone notices.

None of it is loud or showy, but it’s everywhere. Quiet affection humming underneath everything.

And the worst part? No one’s doing anything wrong. They're just happy. Which, somehow, makes it worse.

Namjoon scrolls through something on his phone nearby, then looks up just in time to catch Seokjin trying to drag three bags at once.

“You good?” he calls.

“I’m thriving,” Seokjin says, winded. “But I won’t be carrying anything else for the rest of the trip.”

A few laughs ripple through the group. The sun’s dropped just low enough to cast long, soft shadows across the lot, golden waves illuminating against everyone's skin.

“Alright,” Namjoon says, raising his voice just enough to cut through the chatter. “Let’s grab our stuff and head in. Hyung, you've got the keys, right?”

You all look over at Seokjin, who holds the keys up briefly.

Everyone moves back to their own cars, reaching for bags, slinging backpacks over shoulders, tugging at zippers and slapping closed trunks.

You slip your hand from Jungkook’s and head to Kiara’s trunk, digging out your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. When you walk back, he subtly extends his hand toward you — a quiet invitation.

You don’t take it. You just keep walking.

You told yourself you'd only do what was necessary — the bare minimum to make it believable. Holding hands in front of others? Sure. Smiling for the occasional photo? Fine.

But extras, like this — when no one’s watching — felt like the kind of thing that could make you slip up without meaning to.

Ari falls in beside you, and without thinking, you hook your arm through hers, quickly falling into an easy conversation.

Behind you, you faintly hear him sigh.

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vampzwon · 28 days ago

Text

양정원 ✸ — silence where heavens speak !

ⓘ; the man you’d once swore you’d least likely fall in love with, now you spend your days chasing and teasing in the gardens, and your nights kissing and cuddling up too. no one ever said marriage would be easy- but with him, you realize that your union isn’t just about romantic love—it’s about building something far greater: a family, a legacy of care, and a lifetime of shared, unbridled joy.

i. ⊹”mlist.

﹏ ⌗ 𝓹airing: 𝓎!jungwon x 𝒻!reader ❨2963❩

⏖’ 𝑔enres, fluffflufffluff. historical. hints of angst ?

𝓦arnings: formal english, mentions of parent death, proximity, kissing, crying, just super emotional :,)

𓏵-, 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒. was smiling like a mf idiot writing this ohhhh royal jungwon save me save me i #needthat jokes aside woah i got emotional writing this made me think of children all over the world who don’t get nearly as much as i do and i had to stop writing and think for a moment. reblogs and likes r much appreciated tysm for reading🤍

⌗𖹭.ᐟ “for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?” — much ado about nothing, william shakespeare.

“𝓟ass me the pliers, please,” You huffed, gloved hands deep in rich soil. You crouched behind a freshly blooming rose bush, patting your sweat away with your forearms in true unladylike fashion as you busied yourself within the opulence of the royal gardens. “Unless you’d rather I rip the wire out with my teeth.”

Lingering somewhere beneath, your husband chuckles softly, breathing ever so slightly labored with the heat of the summer sun.

“You do realise you are, by all accounts, a baroness,” Jungwon drawled, reclining lazily on the shaded edge of the stone path, arms propped behind his head. “There are approximately twenty-seven servants within a ten-yard radius. Any one of them could assist.”

“And yet here I am, my lord,” you replied without glancing up, voice flat with mock boredom, “elbow-deep in mulch, while you lie about like a particularly handsome-yet-useless sack of flour.”

“You find me handsome?” He grinned, obviously completely missing your point.

“I said particularly.” You pointed a fallen, dead rose, thorns navigated his way. “Don’t you get cocky.”

With an amused hum, he rose and walked over, shadows of rose leaves flickering over his crisp sleeves. He handed you the pliers wordlessly, then stood watching you—forearms streaked with soil, lips pursed in determination—as though you were a rare painting he could not place, but could not stop admiring.

You felt his gaze and looked up with narrowed eyes. “If you’re going to hover and gawk, at least be useful. Hold this wire while I fasten it.”

“Ever the romantic,” he murmured, but obeyed.

Minutes passed in companionable silence, save for the distant rustling of wind through the hedges and the occasional hum of bees. Once the roses were secured and thus cleaned up, you peeled off your gloves, brushed off your skirts, and marched back toward him.

He looked up from his lounging chair and invited you towards him with nothing more a warm smile. He barely had time to think before you lowered yourself unceremoniously into his lap with a contented sigh, back pressing to his chest as your fingers then found their usual place over the buttons of his shirt.

Circles. Always slow, thoughtful little circles. You’d stare at your fingers tracing against his warm skin, for hours at a time. He’d stay as still as a statue, letting you use him as pleased:

“I do adore a man who lets me use him as furniture,” you whispered with a giggle, eyes wincing with the waves of unbeatable sun, cheek now resting on his shoulder as you looked up at him. The sun highlighted slight stubble, and brightened his eyes even more, if that were even possible.

“And I adore a woman who can disarm a man with both a glance and a gardening tool,” he murmured back, placing his chin atop the crown of your head with a sigh. You laughed softly, hitting the pane of his chest teasingly. “Are you flirting with me, Husband?”

He grinned, the sound of it blooming in his chest beneath your cheek.

“Why, yes,” he replied, smug as ever. “It seems I’ve quite the affinity for pretty girls who talk back and smell of roses and dirt.”

You let out a scoff, though your lips curved despite you. “Then I fear you’ve married a menace.”

“A beautiful menace,” he corrected easily, fingers drumming a gentle pattern over your waist. “The most beguiling one of the whole estate. Dare I say, the nation?”

“I must warn you, my Lord, that flattery does not have it’s way with me.”

“Liar.”

“Flatterer.”

“That isn’t even a word!” He exclaimed through laughter, his head tipping back as the sound rang out across the hedgerows.

You lifted your chin with exaggerated grace. “And yet, you understood me perfectly. Curious, isn’t it?”

He regarded you with a look that was both fond and entirely exasperated. “Heavens preserve me,” he muttered, pulling you closer into his lap. “I married a woman who invents words to win arguments.”

“And I married a man who thinks he’s won one.”

That made him pause, grinning. “Touché.”

You smiled smugly, fingers tapping idle patterns across his chest as the breeze rustled through the garden, heavy with the scent of roses and late-summer warmth. He sighed wistfully, fingers ringing around your hair-ribbon, another one he’d gifted you. You let your hand rest over his heart, thumb brushing absent-mindedly through the thin fabric. “You’re hiding something.”

He grinned, the action wide and inviting. “Perhaps I plan something.” He exhaled, one hand curling gently around your waist, and then a wink. Two winks. You groan, rolling your eyes before you wack him square in the stomach. “Do not jest with me, man, I am impatient in nature.”

He wheezed a laugh, doubling ever so slightly as he caught your wrist and pressed a kiss to the inside of it. “Impatient, violent, cunning—what a jewel I have secured.”

You arched a brow. “A jewel with excellent aim, I might remind you.”

“That, woman, you needn’t remind me.” He murmured cheekily, making you wack him once again. He laughed harder, his chest rumbling beneath your palm as he caught your hand for a second time. This time, instead of kissing it, he pressed it flat against his chest, right over his heart.

“Careful, or I’ll think you’re trying to beat some sense into me,” he said, breath still light with laughter. “Though I fear it’s far too late for that.”

“You were doomed the moment I agreed to marry you,” you retorted, tilting your chin high with mock pride.

“Agreed? Oh, my lady, you pleaded.” He grinned annoyingly, and you huffed, but allowed yourself to lean further into him, your cheek resting just over his shoulder as your legs tangled together lazily beneath the creeping sun.

“You jest,” You scoff, looking up at him with the hardest glare you could muster (which wasn’t much with the sun in the way. “You’re the one obsessed with me.”

“Hopelessly,” he said without hesitation, the word leaving his mouth like a vow. You blinked.

He turned his head slightly, brushing his nose along your temple. “Tragically. Madly. Devotedly obsessed.” A pause, and then he shrugged, as if it were common knowledge. “It’s quite humiliating, really.”

A soft snort escaped you, though you tried to hide it behind a scoff. “Then you’d best keep humiliating yourself, husband. I find it terribly charming.”

His hand wandered up your back, slow and lazy, dragging gloved fingertips over the ties of your blouse. “I think you’d find your surprise ever the charming, too.”

“Does it involve your poetry?” you asked, barely opening one eye.

“No.”

“Gardening?”

“No.”

“Does it involve you feeding me strawberries by hand while serenading me with a live band?”

“No, but that idea is now brewing.”

You smiled against his shirt. “Then I suppose I’ll allow it. But only if it involves cake.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Everything with you involves cake.”

“Because I’m a woman of sense and culture.”

“And because you never eat your breakfast.”

“Hush, and let me daydream, Husband.”

“Do whatever it is you please, Wife.”

Sitting there beneath the climbing roses, sun-warmed and soil-speckled, your legs draped over his and your hands drawing endless circles on his chest, it was easy to pretend you were simply two people in love, not nobles, not anything extraordinary. Just him, just you, and the promise of tomorrow.

The carriage rocked gently over the cobbled path, wheels clicking beneath you in a steady rhythm that should’ve been predictable by now—except, of course, for the fact that you were very much blindfolded.

“Are you certain I won’t be led directly into a river?” you asked flatly, arms crossed, lips twitching with amusement as the ribbon tied around your eyes tightened slightly with the sway of the ride.

“I’ve considered it,” came his easy, far-too-casual reply. His voice was low, teasing, and completely unrepentant. “But I thought today, perhaps, I’d keep you.”

“You’re a menace.”

“A menace you married.”

You scoffed. “Out of pity.”

“And for my poetry,” he added quickly.

“That was one poem. And it was about your boots.”

“They were very clean.”

You both laughed. It echoed in the small cabin like sunlight might echo off glass—light, effortless, real.

Eventually, the carriage slowed, the reins clicked twice, and the world outside seemed quieter. Still blindfolded, you felt him shift beside you. Then warm fingers took your hand, drawing it gently to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Stop that. You’re making me feel all fluttery.” You whined, prodding at his arm weakly. You let him help you down, careful steps guided by his steady touch, your gloved fingers wrapped around his forearm. The breeze was sweet, familiar somehow. The air held something soft.

He paused behind you. And with the gentlest whisper, “Now,” he untied the ribbon. Your lashes fluttered beneath the soft pull of silk, and when the ribbon finally slipped free, your breath caught.

Before you stood a modest estate—not quite a grand palace, no—but warm and old and full of charm, wrapped in ivy and laughter. The front gates were open wide, the sound of children tumbling through the garden drifting in the breeze.

Your lips parted, but no words came.

It hit you like a sudden wind, all at once and everywhere. The scent of summer soil. The swing creaking gently in the corner. The soft, melodic sound of little shoes tapping against stone.

An orphanage.

You grew up an orphan. You had no idea what parental love felt like—only the stories other children whispered about warm hands and lullabies and mothers who braided their hair with patience. But alas, you did not live under the brutal thumb of the institutions meant to care for those like you. You were spared that fate.

Privileged, in a sense. Fortunate enough to be raised within the quiet walls of your uncle’s estate—a man of strict order and rigid affection, who clothed and fed you and ensured your posture was proper and your laughter raw with genuine.

These children had never known privilege. No gentle homes. No warm kitchens filled with the smell of bread or a bed to call their own. You’d heard the stories growing up—tales of cruel matrons, hunger that ached like bone-deep winter, and the way children learned to stay quiet, to stay small, just to survive.

And even in the comfort of your uncle’s halls, even as you dined beside nobility and wore the silks of a life you hadn’t asked for, you never forgot. You’d always spoken on it—at dinners, in letters, in furious debates with guests twice your age. You had a fire in you for those children. For what they deserved.

“Oh,”* you whispered, your voice breaking before the thought could form.

Jungwon stood beside you silently, hands clasped behind his back, head tilted as if to study your expression like fine art. There was no grin now. No teasing remark. Just his eyes—so full of reverence it made you ache.

“I’ve been working with the board for a few months now,” he said softly. “A quiet restoration. Better staff. New funding. There’s a tutor coming next week. A physician, twice monthly.”

You turned to him slowly. “You—”

“I remember the way you spoke about them,” he said. “You didn’t grow up in one, no—but you saw enough. Heard enough. Knew enough to hurt for them. That was enough for me.”

Tears stung the corners of your eyes. “You rebuilt it.”

He nodded. “For them. And for you.”

You turned fully now, looking up at him, a slow, breathless disbelief colouring your features. “You wonderful, ridiculous man—”

He barely had time to laugh before you threw your arms around his neck, hugging him like the world might disappear if you let him go. “I love you,” you whispered into his collar, the words trembling on your lips.

“I know,” he whispered back. “But say it again. I’ll never grow tired of hearing it.”

You pulled away, just enough to look at him. “I love you.” You kissed his neck. “I love you.” You kissed his cheek. “God, I love you.”

Your lips crashed onto his with such a ferocity it knocked the breath right from both your lungs. He held you like you were something sacred—his hands framing your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t even realised were falling. There was nothing restrained about it. Nothing courtly or composed. And weirdly enough, that’s exactly the way you liked it.

He rested his forehead gently against yours, his breath fanning across your lips in a rhythm as steady as his heartbeat beneath your palm. His eyes, usually so sharp and unreadable to everyone else, were soft—utterly open, utterly yours.

With one final, grounding breath, he kissed your forehead and whispered, “Come, my love.”

His fingers threaded through yours, firm and warm, and with that he led you forward—through the creaking orphanage doors and into the soft amber-lit halls that smelled faintly of ink and milk bread.

The matron met you at the door with a knowing smile and a gentle nod before stepping aside, ushering you both into the sun-drenched hallway lined with little shoes and soft laughter.

And there—just past the corridor, seated on a rug beside a basket of wooden blocks—was a small girl.

She was no older than two. A quiet thing with inky black hair that curled at the nape of her neck and deep, thoughtful eyes that made her look startlingly like him—and, in some odd, inexplicable way, like you. Her cheeks were round, lips plush and pink, and her tiny mouth curled into a hum as she looked up at you with curiosity.

“She’s…” You couldn’t finish the sentence.

Jungwon knelt beside her, offering a soft smile as she toddled toward him and leaned against his knee. His hand found her back instinctively. “She’s been here nearly a year. They told me she doesn’t speak much, but she listens. Observes. I met her during the restoration. She wouldn’t let go of my coat.”

You knelt too, fingers trembling as you reached out—and she waddled right into your arms, resting her head against your chest like she’d always belonged there. Your throat tightened. A child, so vulnerable and quiet— running right to your arms as if you held the answers to the universe. You sobbed.

Jungwon’s hand came to your back immediately, grounding you as your entire world shifted in the span of a single heartbeat.

She stayed still, pressed to your chest, impossibly small in your arms—yet the weight of her, the warmth of her, felt like something ancient and long-destined. As though the space she now filled in your heart had always been carved out for her. As though you had simply been waiting.

You stroked the back of her little head, her hair softer than anything you’d touched, her breathing steady against your collarbone. “She’s so quiet,” you managed, voice thin and wavering.

“She’s strong,” Jungwon murmured beside you. “You said once that quiet doesn’t mean weak. She watches everything. I think she’s just been waiting to feel safe enough to speak.”

You looked down at her. Her eyes were closed, lashes brushing the tops of her round cheeks, and a tiny fist was curled loosely in the folds of your gown. She made a faint, squeaky hum—something like contentment, something like a sigh—and the sound sent a fresh tear sliding down your cheek.

“Is she ours?” you whispered.

Jungwon looked at you with eyes that glowed with something deeper than joy. Something reverent. “If you want her… then yes. She’s ours.”

You kissed the crown of her head, voice trembling as you whispered, “Hello, my darling. We’ve been waiting for you.”

She nestled closer at that, tiny arms wrapping clumsily around your neck, her warm cheek pressed to your shoulder like she’d always known the shape of you.

Jungwon’s hand found the small of your back as he leaned in, resting his forehead against your temple. You could feel the way his chest rose and fell—unsteady, as though the moment was too much, too big, too precious to contain. “You’ll be so loved,” he whispered, his voice low and hoarse, “for every day of your life.”

You nodded, unable to speak, brushing your fingers through her soft curls. She made a tiny noise—a sleepy little sigh—and your heart broke and rebuilt itself all at once. “You’ll be strong,” Your voice wavered with the weight of your emotion. “Even when you don’t feel like it.”

“And you’ll be so adored,” Jungwon finished gently, his voice barely above a breath as he tucked a curl behind her tiny ear. “Even when you think you don’t deserve it.”

The child blinked slowly, then gave a small squeak, burrowing herself impossibly closer into your chest. She made no sound beyond that, just the soft hum she always gave when she was content, as if she’d found the exact place she was always meant to be.

Jungwon pressed a kiss to your hair, then to hers, his arm wrapped around the both of you like he’d never let go.

“You’ll never go without,” you whispered against her temple, eyes brimming again. “Not food. Not warmth. Not love. Never love.”

She yawned then, her lips forming the softest little pout, her hand reaching instinctively for your collar as though she knew this was home. And in that moment, surrounded by everything that had once only been a dream, you looked at Jungwon with tears in your eyes and the whole world in your arms.

Because this was the family you’d never imagined you’d have, but would now fight for with every living heartbeat and every lasting breath.

taglist @wonys-won wow i have such an emotional connection/attachment to this jungwon idk how i will ever move on from this.. thank you guys for reading my baby💘

©VAMPZWON

#gracie’s works #jungwon #enha x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #jungwon x reader #enha #enha imagines #jungwon fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen au #enhypen royal au #jungwon fanfic #jungwon fic

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tinyluvs · 2 years ago

Note

Soft Reid NSFW headcanons? PLEASE !!

your wish is my command, tysm! *mdni!!*

he loves boobs, making you lay down so he can flop down on top of you, using them as pillows, big hands cupping them through your top, thumb stroking against the side gently

he's a fiend for your pretty lingerie, rubbing his fingers over lace and embroidered flowers, eyes widening when you gasp at the friction over your nipples

it escalates most times, his hands slipping under your top to inch it up until cold air is causing your nipples to perk up just before he's pressing gentle kisses there and when your hands find their way into his hair, he starts to suck and pinch

you whine for him to touch you more, just anywhere and he's all, "i know honey, i'm getting there," while pressing kisses over your ribcage, hips and tummy

he will eat you out for hours. laying between your legs, letting you pull at his hair, just making you come over and over again while his fingers stroke up and down the backs of your shaky thighs

he ruts against the bed, whining and huffing to himself, muffled by your wet cunt, almost edging himself over and over again but never giving in

your mouth around his cock? he's a mess, "fuck, baby, wait" when you're trying to swallow him down in one, "honey, please" when your tongue is tracing up the vein on the underside

he's so gentle though, raking his fingers from your hairline and backwards, keeping your hair off of your face while you suck him

a tad harsher when you don't listen to his warning, "i'm gonna come, no," he's tugging on your hair pulling you off until the tip is just between your lips, "shit, please, wanna come in you" he's all whiny, eyes pleading until you pull off of him

he's a sucker for missionary, wanting to be able to see your face when he pushes into you, stretching you around him. wants to be able to look down to where your joined to see how wet you're getting him

did i mention he whines? face hidden against your neck, whining and panting, raspy and light, breath fanning against your skin

praise !!!! "feels so good angel," "you're so good for me, doing so well, i love you so much" "look at you, my sweet girl"

he knows when you need to come, watching your chest, tits, rise and fall faster, feels your thighs practically vibrating against his hips, huffs when you tighten around him

"i know angel, hold it for me," his lips press against your forehead, "i'm so close, you're doing so, so well"

he kisses you when you both come, it's messy while you whimper into his mouth and he grunts into yours, kissing you all the way through it

he keeps kissing you after, letting it get slower and slower, your bottom lip slipping between his as you tap out. he repeatedly mumbles about how much he loves you while you're brain kicks back into gear

cockwarming is always guaranteed, he turns you both slowly until you're on top of him, head lolled against his shoulder while he strokes gentle patterns all over your back

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily !! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

#❥ my works #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #❥ my spencer works #❥ spencer reid headcanons #❥ spencer reid #❥ spencer reid fic rec

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brairslair · 1 year ago

Note

(i debated whether or not to ask this anonymously)

so yknow how eddie has a W.A.S.P pin on his vest? can you plz write an eddieXreader scene inspired by their song

Animal (F*** Like A Beast) ?

😅😊

i absolutely love this reqqq, tysm for letting me run with this! hope you like how it turned out @nerdyhooker

Like an Animal - E.M.

18+ ONLY (minors please dni)

a/n: finally figured out an idea i liked for this, and i think it turned out pretty good! although i may have gotten a bit carried away lmao. not sure if this is as rough as you might have had in mind, but i tried to pull as much from the lyrics as possible! i hope you like what i ended up with <3

wc: 5.8k

cw: eventual smut, fem!reader, bartender!eddie + english teacher!reader, kinda fuckboy eddie vibes?, enemies to lovers vibes, light bondage (handcuffsss), p in v sex, unprotected sex (do not do this), oral (fem receiving), pet names (princess, sweetheart, honey, baby), technically drinking and driving, smoking (cigs + i don’t smoke so idfk what i’m talking about), brat reader but she gets super subby, kinda mean but soft dom eddie?, light dacryphilia, these idiots have been head over heels for each other since high school and neither of them knew it bc they’re stupid and stubborn, extremely vague mention of aftercare, not proof read, lmk if i missed anything!

don’t forget to like, reblog, follow, and comment to support my work! it always makes my day, mwah

“well if it isn’t the little princess”

Just like that, nine months down the drain. You massage your temples as you recall the past few days. The countless arguments between you and your, now ex, boyfriend form a persistent migraine between your eyes.

In hindsight, you really should have seen it coming. Your relationship had been rocky for months, but you were so busy with other obligations that you hadn’t had the time to confront any of it head on. Fortunately for you, he was more than willing to step up to the plate.

You wouldn’t let yourself admit it out loud, but you almost felt relieved with his absence in your small apartment. That was until you remembered the loss of his half of the rent.

Everything happened so fast, it was hard to process any of it. It all felt like it was swirling around and around too quickly for you to pick any one thing out. Your solution? Alchohol.

You grabbed your keys and hopped into your polished, clean, mint green beetle, setting off for the local dive bar. You could only recall one other time you had been to the small bar, having been dragged there by colleagues in the name of “bonding” after a particularly long day at work.

Drinking wasn’t something you did often, reserving a glass of wine for holidays and special events. Tonight, you decided you needed to make an exception.

As you parked and stepped out of your car, you felt nerves twist in your gut. The place was undoubtedly busy, which wasn’t shocking for a Friday night. People were smoking and talking out front, and you couldn’t help but notice how out of place you must’ve looked.

A knee length grey skirt fell loosely over your hips, paired with a rose colored, ruffled blouse, and a pearl necklace with matching earrings to top it off. Not a single tattoo in sight, and certainly no cigarette in hand. Your heels clicked against the pavement, smoothing down your skirt as you made your way inside.

The second you enter, you’re hit with a haze of smoke and the overwhelming smell of alchohol, nicotine, and sweat. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting before you head for the bar.

You shuffle your way over to an empty stool at the front and take a seat, plopping your beaded purse on the counter. As you wait for the bartender to make their way to you, you take a better look at your surroundings. The place felt oddly cozy for being in such a frumpy looking building, and a band was playing some sort of aggressive rock song you had never heard before. Despite it being a little too loud, and a little too cluttered, you were already starting to relax a little.

“Hey there, what can I get for ya?”

You whip your head around at the voice, and your stomach instantly falls into your shoes. It would be impossible not to recognize the dark mop of curls that you got so used to seeing bouncing about the halls you shared all those years ago.

Although now it was pulled back into a sloppy bun at the back of his head, loose curls falling around his face. You’d hate to admit it, but he looked really nice.

“Well if it isn’t the little princess.” he laughs, and you feel your fists clench at the old nickname. “Didn’t think this was really your scene.”

“Well that would be a correct assumption, Munson.” you bite, bouncing back from the initial shock, “Unfortunately, it was the closest bar to my apartment, and I wasn’t in the mood to drive across town.”

Your grumbling makes you feel like a petulant child with a grudge, but you can’t help it. Eddie just always has getting on your nerves.

“I didn’t know you worked here, or I would have made the sacrifice.”

Eddie smiles his big, toothy, infuriatingly smug smile, and shakes his head, “You haven’t changed one bit, huh princess?”

“Don’t call me that.” you demand through gritted teeth, holding on to every ounce of restraint you have not to scream at him to just get you a drink.

He leans forward on the counter with a lopsided, goofy sort of expression, invading your space and ignoring your little outburst. “So what brings you in here tonight, princess? Boy troubles?” he mocks with a pouty tone.

You glare daggers into his skull, and he knows he’s hit the nail on the head. “Just a beer will do.”

He gives a small salute before leaving to get you your drink of choice.

The rest of the night is spent drinking, wallowing, and actively avoiding any and all interactions with the familiar bartender. The minimal interaction you did have involved him pushing every button in sight, and you fighting to maintain an ounce of self control.

Any time your eyes made their way over to him, of their own volition, his eyes were already on you. He had this look, like he knew something you didn’t, and it infuriated you. Oh how you hated him.

It had always been this way, ever since high school. He made it his mission to push you to your limit, and you always had to one up him somehow. It became almost like a game. You weren’t surprised to see he hadn’t changed after all this time. It was almost comforting in way, if you thought about it long enough.

As the night went on, the activity slowly started dying down, and the atmosphere got quieter. You were on your second beer of the night, trying to let the cold liquid take the edge off. Even still, you felt your fingers tap against the counter with anxiety.

How could he leave you to fend for yourself at the drop of a hat? After nine months? Did your relationship hold that little of value? How were you supposed to afford next quarter’s rent? There’s no way you could afford to live in your current apartment. You would have to move. How would you find somewhere decent to stay in such a short amount of time? You were screwed.

“Hey sweetheart, we’re gettin’ ready to close up.”

You were pulled out of your thoughts, looking up to see the one person you wanted to see the least right now. His expression was soft. Softer than you’ve ever seen it aimed in your direction. It made you want to dig your nails into his skin.

“You alright?”

The question takes you aback, your brows furrow at the uncharacteristic behavior. “Fine, thanks.” you mumble, taking another gulp of your drink.

He looks at you with what can only be described as sympathy, and you feel your chest tighten. “Wanna step out for a smoke?”

You mull over the words for a moment. The answer should be so simple. You don’t smoke. In fact, you’ve never smoked once in your life. Why would you ever agree to smoke with him of all people?

But then his hand is outstretched across the bar for you to take a cigarette, and his eyes look so… kind? You’ve never thought of that word to describe him before. Maybe it was the alchohol, or maybe he put some sort of curse on you, because suddenly you’re taking the cigarette and following him out front.

You can’t help but watch as his thumb flicks at the lighter, putting it up to your lips before bringing it to his own. You follow his lead inhaling the smoke, and then you’re instantly coughing and spluttering it back out of your lungs.

He laughs lightly as he cooly blows the smoke to the side to avoid getting it in your face. “I take it you’ve never smoked before? If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was ask.”

“Shut up, Munson.” you spit out, face heating up with embarrassment as you make another attempt, ignoring the burning in your throat.

It’s silent for a while, before anyone decides to break it.

“So,” he starts, “You a big time writer now?” he asks, staring at the pavement.

He remembered you wanted to be a writer? You didn’t even think he knew that about you. “English teacher, actually. Hawkins High.”

He looks at you then, dropping the butt of his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. “You stuck around that hell hole? No wonder you’ve still got that stick up your ass.”

You scoff bitterly, “Well I guess some of us are more academically inclined than others.” you glare, “I actually enjoy my job, shocking as that may be to you.”

“I'm sure you do, sweetheart.” Eddie replies smugly, causing you to grit your teeth as he leans against the brick wall of the building. "Gettin' to boss people around all day must be a dream come true for you." The parking lot is almost completely empty at this point.

Of course his civility was just a calm before the storm. You mentally pinch yourself for your momentary lapse of judgement. “God, you are such a-“

“Comedian? Kind soul? Sight for sore eyes?” he offers dramatically, eyes twinkling at your grimace.

“I was going for obnoxious, conceited, prick.” You hiss, stomping out your cigarette, “and I do not have a stick up my ass!” you shout, turning on your heel to leave.

Eddie rushes to catch up to you, laughing boyishly in a way that makes you speed up. “Aw come on, princess, don’t be like that. I was just teasing.”

“I said not to call me that-” You whip around to face him, and suddenly you’re practically chest to chest, craning your neck to meet his eyes. You’re so close you wonder if he can feel your heart racing behind your ribs.

Then he’s looking at you with that look. The one that makes your insides bubble over with fury. The one that makes you feel like he knows some sort of deep secret about you. It makes you want to slap him in his smug face. Yet, for some reason, you can’t seem to look away from his gaze.

Finally, you pull yourself away, and march over to your car. Just as you open your door, you hear a retreating shout of, “Next drink’s on me, princess!” and then you’re out of there faster than you can process your heaving chest and shaky hands.

After that, you somehow end up back in that same bar every Friday. Some sort of force, unbeknownst to you, seemed to draw you in like a magnet. As promised, the next drink was on him… and the next, and the next, no matter how many times you tried to refuse.

No matter how much you tried to talk yourself out of it, you always ended up sitting on the same stool, at the same time, with the same drink in your hand. Every week, without fail, you would leave the bar a fuming, heated mess with only one thing on your mind. Eddie fucking Munson.

This week in particular was different. You were absolutely swamped with assignments that needed to be graded, and you spent all of Thursday night and Friday working on getting them done.

It wasn’t until you woke up the next morning that you noticed the hiccup in your routine, and for some reason it made you sad. It wasn’t like you were obligated to go every weekend, but a part of you had grown to enjoy your Friday nights at the bar. Then some sick, twisted part of you wondered if he had noticed your absence, but you shoved the thought away as soon as it surfaced.

As the day went on, you convinced yourself it wouldn’t hurt to just go tonight instead. After all it was a Saturday night, and you had already cleared your workload for the week, so it’s not like there was any real harm in it.

Alternatively, it was a Saturday night. Eddie’s band performed Saturday nights. You didn’t want him to think you were there to see him, because you most certainly were not. You just didn’t want to miss out on your weekly drink, that’s all. Nothing more.

Still, it was a Saturday night. It would do you some good to look a little nicer, right?

You start to regret it the second you park your car. The shift in the air is blatantly obvious as you enter walk towards the crowded space. Men out front whistle at you as you walk to the door, and you can feel eyes practically digging into your skin as u head for your usual seat at the bar. Your leg bounces with nerves at the attention. You've never worn this dress before. Never had a reason to. You don't allow yourself to wonder why you chose to wear it tonight.

You ask the bartender for a long island iced tea, and catch yourself checking the small stage in the back of the room. You internally scold yourself and glue your eyes to your drink.

It isn’t long before cheers are heard around the bar, pulling your attention up to see Corroded Coffin walking out on stage.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” Eddie’s voice booms out of the speakers, causing people to whoop and holler in reply. You feel your leg begin to bounce.

He continues talking to the small crowd while his band finishes setting up, and you can’t stop yourself from ogling at him. You desperately want to pull your eyes away, to look at anything else, but you can’t.

He’s wearing an old band t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, showing off his arms, chest, and a sliver of his waist. Your eyes trail across the exposed skin, noticing he has quite a few new tattoos littering it, and your stomach twists. He has leather and chain bracelets decorating his wrists, curls falling wildly around his face, and you notice light bouncing off of his signature rings still adorning his fingers. You definitely don’t remember him looking like this in high school.

As he moves around the stage it’s abundantly clear how confident he is up there. His stage presence is truly impressive, and his voice is really something. It's gotten deeper since the last time you heard it. You subconsciously wet your lips as you watch his fingers move around the neck of his guitar. He’s come a long way since the last time you saw him perform. You can’t help but smile as you watch him in his element.

Then the smile is wiped clean off of your face when he makes direct eye contact with you from across the bar. You freeze, feeling like you suddenly have shards of glass lodged in your throat. Has he known you’ve been sitting here the whole time? If he saw you smiling you might have to run into oncoming traffic.

Then you notice what he’s singing.

“I'm on the prowl and I watch you closely I lie waiting for you I'm the wolf with the sheepskins clothing I lick my chops and you're tastin' good”

Your stomach flips and you can feel your whole body heating up. Something tells you he notices too, which makes it a million times worse. What the hell is wrong with you?

“I do whatever I want to do ya I'll nail your ass to the sheets A pelvic thrust and the sweat starts to sting ya I fuck like a beast”

You shift in your seat, the eye contact becoming far too overwhelming. You opt to look down at your lap for the remainder of the song to prevent yourself from doing something embarrassing.

Soon enough the set is over, and the band starts breaking down their set up. You’re so deep in your own thoughts by the end of it that you fail to notice the man approaching you, until his arms are caging you against the bar.

“Well hello there, pretty lady.” You gasp at the familiar voice speaking directly into your ear, feeling his shirt graze your back. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” He beams down at you, watching you huff and roll your eyes as you turn to face him. Your fingers wriggle with the efforts not to hit him.

“It was an impulsive decision.” You mutter quietly, eyes briefly darting to his toned arm beside you before snapping back to his face, “I didn’t come yesterday.” You concede, unsure of what else to say.

He smiles, seemingly amused. “I know. Your seat was empty all night.” he says lowly, face so close to yours that you can feel his breath against your lips. For a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, and then he’s pushing off of the counter to head back behind the bar and help clean up.

So he did notice. Did he miss you? Was he saving your seat, or is it just a coincidence?

You feel dizzy with a million questions. Why did you let him get so close? Why were you going to let him kiss you? Why does he look so good. Why do you care so much? You should have said something, anything.

You finish your drink in silence, watching Eddie as he flits around tidying up the place, and then the bar is closing. You feel your gut twist at the thought of going home, and you don’t quite understand why, but you blame the alchohol.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Eddie jogs up to you as you grab your purse, arm outstretched and offering a cigarette. His hair falls prettily around his shoulders, and you only now notice that he takes much better care of his curls now than he did in high school.

“Care for a smoke?”

His charm must be cranked up to 100 tonight, because, once again, you agree with less hesitation than you would have liked.

You stand out front, Eddie waving goodnight to Garret as he heads to his car, and you watch as the last car whirs out of the lot. Then you are alone. Just you and Eddie. Your heart hammers in your chest.

“How’d you like the show?” he asks, exhaling a puff of smoke in the process.

You handle the burn better this time, holding back a cough from erupting as you take a drag. “It was… good.” You say hesitantly.

He quirks an eyebrow at you, “Just good? Wow, then we really need to get our shit together if we're gonna-“

“You were amazing.” You blurt out, unsure of why you felt the need to boost his ego. You clear your throat before amending your statement, “It… The show was amazing.”

Eddie hums in satisfaction, smile tugging at the corners of his lips around his cig. “You know, you didn’t have to dress all fancy for lil ol’ me.”

You wore a tight, low-backed, black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, sheer black stockings, black boots, and some dainty silver jewelry. Nothing too crazy, but definitely much different from how you would normally dress. Admittedly, you felt a little self conscious.

“Well good thing I didn’t dress fancy for you.” You huff, starting to feel a little silly for trying so hard to fit in. God, did he always have to be so cocky?

“I mean, I’m not complaining.” He starts, pushing off the wall to step towards you. “You look fucking incredible. Of course, you always look incredible.”

Smug bastard.

“Thank you.” You feel yourself flushing at the words, immediately getting sick to your stomach at how much you care what Eddie Munson thinks about how you look. “Glad I got your seal of approval.” You quip sarcastically, desperately trying to pick a fight. Anything to stop you from feeling whatever it is that you’re feeling right now.

Why did he always find a way to get under your skin? No one else makes you feel as utterly frustrated as he does.

He’s absolutely unbearable.

You force down another inhale of smoke as you watch Eddie slowly make his way closer to you. The way he’s looking at you makes your mouth go dry. You can’t tell what he’s thinking and it’s driving you up the wall.

“You know, you don’t always have to be such a brat.” He exhales casually, pausing in front of you. Your heart stops. “It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to me every once in a while.”

“It might.” You rasp out curtly, just now realizing how out of breath you suddenly feel.

He laughs, and the sound makes your insides flip.

“You have such a big fat crush on me, don’t you sweetheart?” He smiles down at you wolfishly, and it almost makes you shrink under his stare. You suddenly are acutely aware of your surroundings.

You scoff and cross your arms defensively, “I most certainly do not have a crush on you, Munson.” You spit out venomously. How dare he even suggest such a thing? It couldn’t be farther from the truth. You loathe him.

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, taking a stride closer to you, making you step backwards.

“Think I don’t notice how you stare at me? How you sit up a little straighter when you see me?”

Your back hits the wall.

“You aren’t subtle, princess.”

You feel like a fucking deer in headlights.

“Staring and glaring are two very different things.” You pant, desperately searching for oxygen. Anger burns in your throat at his absolute audacity, and your skin feels like it's buzzing.

“Is that so?”

You can feel his chest press into you as the brick digs into your shoulders. He takes a long inhale of smoke, and your head is screaming at you to push him off of you and curse him the whole way home, but you can’t bring yourself to move.

It feels like everything is moving in slow motion as he grabs your chin, and then, unexpectedly, he‘s pulling your jaw down to part your lips. All you can do is stare at him and his cocky fucking smile at your compliance. You feel like you’re in a trance.

Before you can even think, his lips are pressed against yours and pushing smoke past your lips. You gasp at the contact, effectively inhaling the smoke and sighing against his lips. Your brain short circuits and goes completely numb. His lips feel like the cure to a disease you've been plagued with for years.

For a moment, you almost forget who you’re with, until he pulls back to look at you.

“Well if you hate me so much, then why are you squeezing your thighs together?”

You immediately rip your legs apart, not even realizing what you were doing until it was too late. You can feel steam pouring out of your ears at this point.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

He’s right. For some reason, you do love it. Something about him makes you crave more, and you’re starting to believe he may be an incubus. It’s making you go insane.

So you finally wave the white flag.

“Just shut up and kiss me, Munson.”

So he does. Again, and again, and again, until somehow you end up back at Eddie’s trailer with your wrists handcuffed to his bed frame and your clothes thrown around his room.

Hard rock music plays faintly in the distance, and the room smells vaguely of incense and weed. You feel like you've been transported to an alternate dimension.

His lips feel like they’re everywhere. Your mouth, your jaw, your neck, and then he’s leaving sweet little kisses on your tits, making you whine and arch your back towards him.

“Gotta teach you how to let loose, yeah?”

He gently tugs on one of your nipples and you gasp, and Eddie can’t help but laugh as he kisses his way further down your body.

“You’re fucking adorable when you’re not being a pain in the ass, you know that?”

You groan as he spreads your legs open, kissing and biting at your thighs. “Shut up, Eddie.”

“Oh I’m Eddie now?”

Your hips buck up in frustration, glaring down at him with a scowl. It feels like he’s been teasing you for forever. “Eddie” you whine out, “Stop teasing.”

He slowly starts kissing closer to where you need him most, but not quite close enough. “You don’t think you deserve it? Why do you think your wrists are locked up then, sweetheart?”

You wiggle and writhe beneath him, but don’t answer. Eddie moves his face closer to your cunt, and you finally think you’re going to get what you want, and then he blows on your clit. You whimper and clench around nothing, flinching away from him. It's absolutely pathetic, getting so worked up when he’s barely even done anything yet.

“I asked you a question.” Eddie tries again, rubbing soothing circles into the back of your thigh while he waits for a response.

“My wrist’s are locked up because…” You take a deep sigh and force yourself to just spit it out so that he’ll touch you already. “because I was being a brat." you grumble. He’s lucky your wrists are locked up right now, you think.

Eddie kisses your thigh in approval, “That’s right, and bratty girls don’t get to call the shots. Right?”

You huff and pull against your restraints once more, before ultimately complying. “Right.”

You figure it won’t do you any good to act out, especially given your current position.

“There you go, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Eddie grins up at you, before finally leaving a gentle kiss right on your clit.

You throw your head back into the pillows, immediately feeling relief at the small touch. He then runs his tongue up your slit, swirling it nice and slow around your little button, making you sigh and melt into the bed. His curls tickle your thighs where he works diligently.

It quickly becomes apparent that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and that makes you wonder how many other women have been in this exact same position. The thought makes you dig your nails into your palms, but the it’s is quickly forgotten when you feel him slide a finger into you.

"See?" He starts, words muffled by your folds, "Just needed someone to put you in your place, huh? To take the reigns?"

You flutter around him, and every fiber of your being wants to say something snippy in response, but all you get out is a blissed out sigh. He hums happily.

His fingers are much thicker than your own, calloused from his years of playing guitar. Looking down you notice he took all his rings off and set them next to you on the bed. He never takes his rings off, ever, you remember that. For some reason the simple act makes your heart leap out of your chest.

He pulls his face back from your slick for a moment just to watch the way you suck in his finger, and he moans at the sight of you. The sound makes your brain feel like static. “Fuck, baby, you needed it bad, huh? You’re fucking dripping all over my sheets and I've barley started.”

All you can do is nod your head and hum in response, and your jaw drops open with a soft moan as he slides in a second finger with ease.

“How long have you been wanting me like this, sweetheart? Be honest.” He asks, never faltering in his pace.

You whine at the question, embarrassment flooding your features as you turn your face to hide it in his pillow. He quickly kisses up your body, gently turning your head back to look at him. “You can tell me. No need to be embarrassed.”

You take one good look at his face, and you know that he already knows. He’s giving you that look. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Mm… Since-” you hesitate to finish your sentence, and then a particularly hard thrust of his fingers does it for you. “Since fucking high school! Christ, Eddie-”

A groan erupts from the back of his throat as he kisses you hard, licking and biting at your bottom lip, and then suddenly his mouth is back on your clit and you feel like you’re floating. He picks up the pace, eating you out like a man starved, flicking his tongue in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

You feel your hips start to move against him, and he groans into your pussy making you cry out. “Yeah, that’s it.” He mumbles against your core, “Ride my face, honey.”

You can’t control the plethora of sounds that escape you, and your body seems to have a mind of its own. You writhe on the bed as Eddie devours you, holding your thighs over his shoulders. He searches for your sweet spot with every thrust of his fingers, and he knows he’s found it when your eyebrows pinch up, a high pitched whine reverberating throughout his bedroom.

You can feel him smile against your cunt, continuing his assault against that spot that makes you see stars. He never stops looking up at you to watch your face contort with pleasure. His already dark eyes are now fully eclipsed with lust and need.

“Oh my god-” you gasp out, heaving for air as your legs begin to shake around his head.

He can tell you’re close from the way you’re squeezing his fingers and writhing under him. He doesn’t speed up or change his pace, he keeps doing exactly what he’s doing, moving the flat of his tongue back and forth against your clit and curling his fingers up into you just right.

“Eddie, mm… i’m so close-”

The second the words leave your lips, he pulls off of you. His mouth and fingers are completely gone in an instant, and you feel like you’re about to cry.

“What the fuck?!” You shout at him, voice weak with tears threatening to spill, “Why did you stop?”

Eddie grins from ear to ear, lips and chin glistening with your slick, “We talked about this, remember?” he says cockily, leaning down to lick a bead of sweat from your chest, “Brats don’t get to call the shots. You’ll take what I give you, won’t you sweetheart?”

You grumble and kick your legs out in frustration, but he kisses you to make it better. You slowly let him melt you back into putty in his hands, tasting yourself on his tongue. He presses his knee directly against your puffy cunt, groaning at your wetness against his skin as you sigh into his lips. You go to move your hips against him but he quickly stops you, moving his hand up instead to push down his boxers, his dick already hard and aching to feel you.

“Promise I’ll make you feel so good, just gotta be good for me first alright?”

You nod your head frantically, completely and utterly at his mercy. He looks like sex personified, and you just want to feel him. “Please, Eddie-”

He smiles sweetly at you, kissing your cheek as he slides the tip of his cock through your folds. “Awh, look at you and your manners.” he taunts, but this time you can't seem to care. In fact, you realize, you kind of like it.

You like hearing his voice.

You like it when he’s mean.

He pushes just the tip against your dripping hole, and you’re practically sobbing. “How can I say no when you asked so politely?” and then he’s sliding all the way into you, and you’re already a wreck.

“Holy shit- you feel so fucking good” he groans and huffs as he starts to slowly pump in and out of you, making sure you feel every drag of his cock inside you.

You’re already panting, stretching your hands against the cool metal to try and grasp for anything that can ground you, but you come up empty. He’s so much bigger than you expected him to be, and the stretch is practically making you drool.

“Eddie, fucking- god”

“That’s it, keep screaming my name just like that baby.” He encourages, kissing and biting at your collar bone, sure to leave marks, “You sound so goddamn pretty when you say my name.”

Eddie adjusts your position, pulling your leg over his hip and pushing it against your chest. The new angle has your back arching off the bed, a whimpering mess as you claw at the handcuffs.

Eddie leans his head to rest in the crook of your neck, panting and whining into your ear. “Shit, princess-”

Your cunt squeezes him at the nickname, and the moan that slips past your lips is guttural. “Oh, fuck-” He clamps his eye shut with a deep groan, gripping your thigh so hard it’s sure to leave little bruises.

That’s the first time he’s used that nickname since you started, and he knows it. He did it on purpose.

He lifts his head to look at your blissed out face, a goofy, lopsided, fucked out grin on his lips. “I knew it.” he gloats, thrusts getting harder, “Look at me.”

You muster up the energy to flutter your eyes open and look at him. The pretty smile on his face makes your legs shake.

“You like it when I call you that,” he beamed, “That’s why you hated when I used that name for you in public, huh. Cause’ it made you fuckin’ soak your panties?” he laughed meanly, watching tears fill your waterline. He leans down to brush his lips against yours, voice lowering into something sweeter. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you practically scream. He looked so pretty, and he felt so good, and you wanted him closer. It was all too much, you needed to hold something, anything. You needed to pull yourself back down to reality.

“Eds- Eddie, please can I touch you?” your fingers twitch where they’re held above your head, “Wanna feel you- please, i’ve been so good-”

Eddie whines at your sweet pleas, but maintains composure. He wanted to stick to the plan.

“Oh, honey, no” he pouts out at you mockingly, watching the way you strain for anything to grasp and his dick twitches inside you, “No, you gotta give me one first. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Too fucked out to formulate a simple response, you simply sob and nod your head. Your hips start to rock up into his thrusts, but Eddie grabs your hips with one hand and pushes them back down into the sheets. You feel like a live wire.

Then he brings his thumb down to your clit, gently rubbing circles on it, and your eyes clamp shut. He kisses your open mouth and you try your best to kiss him back, but he’s moaning into your mouth, and he’s touching you, and fucking you, and Eddie Munson is fucking you, and it’s all so good that you just can’t.

“Eddie, i’m gonna-” you babble, almost incoherent, feeling the knot getting tighter and tighter, “Please please please don’t stop!”

He puts more pressure on your clit and leaves sweet little kisses on your neck, “I’m not got stop, it’s okay.”

You’re so close you feel like you’re about to explode.

“You can cum for me, princess”

That’s all you needed to see stars, black clouding your vision as he rides out your high, not once stopping or slowing down his pace. You can vaguely hear him talking you down, but nothing registers past your ears ringing.

Then your wrists are released and he’s flipping you over so that you’re on top, straddling him, and your hands and lips are all over him in an instant. In this position he hits your g-spot perfectly, and you can’t help but sob against his chest at the overstimulation.

“Just one more for me, I promise.” he soothes, gently rubbing your hip as his guides your hips back and forth on his cock, making you both cry out. You start to set your own pace riding him, leaning back against his legs to give you the perfect angle.

“You’re so perfect.” He mutters, breathlessly, “My pretty girl- fuck.”

Eddie was now moaning and whining louder and more freely than before, you can tell he’s getting close now too, and you’re already reaching your second climax of the night.

“Wanted you for so long,” Eddie admits, gripping your hip tighter, “can’t believe this is real.”

You whine at the confession, leaning forward to press your lips to the shell of his ear. You make sure to let your pretty noises and praises flow freely, just for him. Your fingers gently brush hairs from his forehead before scratching your way down his chest.

“You fuck me so well, Eds”

“Oh my god- you feel so good”

“Please, Eddie, I wanna feel you cum”

He’s an absolute mess, wrapping both hands around your hips and bending his knees up so that he can fuck you down onto him. “Wanna cum with you sweetheart. Want you to give me another one.” He rambles against your chest, and your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving little red marks behind.

“I’m so close, honey, c’mon. You can give it to me."

You bite and claw at his skin, so close to tipping over the edge.

"Soak me.”

You collapse forward as tears of overstimulation fall onto his inked skin, and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder to ground himself while he paints your walls white. You ride out your highs, clutching each other like a lifeline. When you’re both back on planet earth, he cleans you up nice an gentle, and whispers pretty little praises into your skin as you fall asleep with your limbs intertwined.

“Knew you had a crush on me, princess.”

Let’s just say you no longer have to go apartment hunting!

asks are open!

549 notes · View notes

namisin · 1 year ago

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❝ HOPE WHEN THE MOON GOES—

(—THAT YOU DON'T GO.)

⚝ pairing : gojo satoru x reader.

⚝ synopsis : satoru likes you to a painful degree, dare he say he loves you. everyone but you can see it. the problem? you only want to be friends (with benefits).

⚝ content : 18+, fem reader, tiniest bit of angst, fwbs to lovers, oral (m receiving), college au, piv, pet names, brief mention of dubcon? (drunk reader), mentions of alcohol, rated w for whiny gojo, pet name(s), prὁne-bone, possessiveness, praise bc he's just a sweetie, choking, reader is spoiled but so is he, MDNI.

⚝ word count : 3.2k | 11 min read. y'all idk how this happened

⚝ a/n : gege please dpwm i need my man back this INSTANT. but tysm u guys for the warm welcome !! like, comment &/or reblog for smooches on the mouf ♡

𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 friday night, another club outing satoru did not wanna be on.

granted, it was a setting that would otherwise be right up his alley. satoru was the life of the party after all, the loudest one in the room without fail. but he could distinctly remember the point before your arrangement began, and after.

it didn't matter before that he could get anyone he wanted, have any warm body take up space in his king-sized bed. it didn't matter that you could do the same; dance up on anyone, grind your perfect ass against them until they had no presence of mind but to follow your piper's song to the nearest empty room. then regale your best friends with the details the next morning.

however, after the first time you propositioned him, drunk out of your mind but purring in his lap like a needy cat, it only became harder and harder for him to keep his hands to himself in public. his patience to wait out these parties to get you home wore thinner, to the point of near-nonexistence. obnoxiously thrumming bass, bodies smacking together like mindless fish caught in a net, having to yell and strain to hear his friends standing less than a foot in front of him...things he never minded at all before became all too fucking annoying.

but you've always acted as his life raft, bidding his escape with a, "wanna get out of here, toru?"

and he followed every single time, ignoring shoko's wiggling eyebrows and geto's smirking as you led the way out the door. their jeering bounced right off his skin; he felt damn-near invincible knowing he'd be having his own kind of fun, with much better music.

tonight was no different. you stood by the bar, drumming your fingers against the counter while waiting for the bartender to return with two drinks. satoru's eyes roved over your body shamelessly over the rim of oval glasses, taking in the expanse of your legs that weren't covered by your leather miniskirt and the way your top hugged to your figure. he approached with his bottom lip tucked, much like his hands in the pockets of his pants.

by the time he arrived to stand next to you, the glasses were placed down with a muted "clunk," just barely perspiring as his usual was passed into his freed palm.

"my saviour," he greeted, bent over at the waist to let the words brush against your ear, "what would i do without you?"

"mmm-mm," you shrugged, grinning in return, "probably die of thirst."

satoru exhaled sharply through his nose, rightening his posture to take a sip of his drink. he caught the double entendre he wasn't even sure you meant to drop — there was a constant thirst inside him that you really were the only cure for. a thirst to hear you whine and beg for him, call him toru in that sweet tone that made him want to legally shorten his name.

another long sip.

the way he wanted, no needed, you was almost obsessive. he knew that. but could he be blamed? you were pure temptation wrapped in the most enticing body; you were the raging flame and he was but a moth, acting on pure instinct to capture that warmth for his own. every night he spent with you was a testament to that effort, prodding and caressing your body in every way he knew how. he pulled every trick out of his book to have you writhing on his sheets. satoru was sure the neighbours hated you both, but at least they knew his name well.

"you lovebirds coming over to the table?" shoko raised a thin brow at the pair of you, an unlit cigarette hanging from her lips.

"lovebirds? sho please, you know better," you laughed, crossing the space to link arms with her.

ah. satoru felt a twinge of something pinch in his chest. that problem still remained.

he worshipped the ground you walked on, blessed your name like you were his deity, but you still only saw him as a friend. granted, he was a friend with extensive benefits, but a friend nonetheless. hell, for as long as you two have had this arrangement, you've never spent a full night with him — instead opting to scoop your clothes off the floor, grab a quick shower and bid him a soft goodnight, simultaneously calling yourself an uber as you left his apartment.

his face was much dimmer following behind you and shoko, having dropped a small wad of cash he didn't count on the bar-top, and he drew his glass back to his lips in an attempt to quell that pinching feeling.

it wasn't as if he never offered for you to stay the night, never lifted his messy sheets on the opposite side he always kept vacant for you. but, it was hard to stay persistent when you always answered with some variation of, "thanks toru, but we're just friends, remember? i don't wanna make it weird for us."

he watched your hips sway under your skirt with a furrow in his brow. the hem flapped around the very tops of your thighs, drawing other eyes that weren't his own cerulean pair to its attention. he itched to make a show of you being his — maybe throw an arm over your shoulders or lean down to peck your lips — but knew how well (not well at all) it would go down with the other party if you caught on.

it just meant he had to be the one to get you out of there sooner.

satoru let you have your fun, down a responsible-enough number of shots, twist your hips this way and that on the dancefloor with geto and shoko. they both towered over you, almost forming a protective ring of raven black and coffee brown around your twirling body, and he was grateful for it. the imagery alone of some other person creeping up behind you, grabbing at your waist in an attempt to steal a dance, was enough to tighten that vulnerable spot in his chest.

after downing the rest of his second drink, he stood, leaving another roll of money in shoko's purse and making a beeline for you on the dancefloor. geto parsed him with a knowing look as he squeezed passed them, shoko only gave a thumbs up and a wide grin. they both knew all about what went on between you two, and they knew all too well how much satoru pined over you.

if it wasn't the way he looked at you, or the way he'd mindlessly put his hands on the small of your back, on your hips, around your shoulders, then it'd have to be the fact that he grouched about it at every given opportunity. the minute you left him alone, he'd go on and on until one of them had to smack him in the back of the head to shut up.

so, watching him slot his hips to yours, immediately winding them in tandem to the beat, they understood quickly to leave the pair of you to your little world.

"let me take you out of here, y/n," he murmured, you spun in his toned arms to settle into his torso. your arms circled his neck as he pushed his nose closer to yours to bump them together.

"you stole my line," you drawled, "getting impatient on me, toru?"

satoru bit back a groan, the way you spoke coupled with the eyes you gave him from beneath the canopy of your lashes was staggering.

"maybe i am, you're holdin' out on me."

you blew a raspberry of a laugh at his frown, "you saw me last night, you baby."

"twenty-four whole hours too long."

your eyes rolled unconsciously, he could be such a little shit when he didn't have his way. still, you were never one to deny him.

"take me home then, before you start sobbing for pussy in the club."

a triumphant beam overtook his face at that, he actively disregarded the teasing lilt to your words. all he heard was "take me home," and it was like you waved kikufuku in his face.

he picked up you up easily, princess-style, making you squeal and nearly kick a patron close by. you giggled out your apologies, but satoru was already leaving, carting you off to the exit of the club.

your back landed hard against his front door when he put you down again, and his body followed right behind. your lips crashed together with fervor, teeth colliding and tongues looping around each other. you mewled so sweetly into his mouth as his hands wandered up under your top, grabbing hold of your tits over your bra. his cock twitched in its confines, you had an effect on him that would be scary if he didn't relish in it so much.

"lose this shit already," satoru huffed against your lips while tugging the hem of your blouse upwards. you obliged with the nth roll of your eyes, and with the top gone, you pulled him back down for another searing kiss.

you marked your path downward after switching your positions, pushed his shirt up to his chest to lick a wet stripe down his abs, until you came face-to-face with the sizeable bulge in his pants. he smoothed your hair away from your face while you pulled his belt buckle apart. an exhale stuttered in his chest — you mouthed around his bulge from the outside of his boxer-briefs, though with the sounds satoru made, you may as well have shoved the whole thing into your mouth.

deciding to end his misery, you hooked your manicured fingers into the waistband of his underwear, pulling his cock free to smack against your cheek. you licked another matching stripe up the underside, shadowing the pulsing trail that was his most dominant vein, then kitten-licked at his slit once you hit the peak.

with one hand wrapped around the base of his cock and the other on his thigh, you took his pretty pink tip into your mouth, and his face absolutely crumpled.

satoru groaned, long and low, his head thumping against the door as it was thrown back. you could feel the corners of your mouth tingling from the stretch, straining a little to fit around his girth despite making this journey countless times by now.

he stammered out a hiss when his tip hit the back of your throat, you would've laughed if not for the fact that you desperately held off your gag reflex. his grip on your hair tightened, coming to hold it in a fist to both keep the hair out of your face and guide your movements as you sunk further down his length. you breathed through your nose and willed your throat to relax, more broken sounds sprang from his lips as you let him in.

"f-fuck, just like that, pretty," he praised hoarsely, gently bobbing your head up and down his length with his grip on your hair. you powered through the tears flooding your lashline and the rivulets of spit accumulating to drip down your chin.

while he worked your mouth, you pried your lids apart to peer up at him, eyes rimmed red and pupils blown wide.

and that was his undoing.

his body tensed hard as he held your head down, nose right up against his pelvis and tickled with snow-white hairs. his abdomen spasmed under the point of it, undulating as he painted your throat white.

"you're so fucking good to me," he mumbled against your lips after helping you back to your feet. satoru, of course, was the shameless type to make the fuck out with you right after dumping his cum into your mouth; and he did just that. he picked you up again while his tongue swiped over yours, blindly walking you up the stairs to his bedroom.

he plopped you down unceremoniously, pulling your legs apart to sink between them. you'd lost the skirt somewhere along the way, that left nothing but your thong to separate you from satoru's still-leaking, still-hard dick. however, even those got ripped down your legs and tossed to the side — every article of clothing was a victim in his ever-expanding need for you.

"i need to fuck you, will you le'me fuck you?" he babbled in a pitchy, fissured voice, circling your clit with his fingers. he dipped them shallowly in and out of your hole to smear your wetness right across your folds. all he needed was for you to nod the affirmative before he was rapidly replacing his digits with the head of his cock, gathering your syrupy arousal to drench him.

"just suckin' me off has you this wet, hmm? i knew you liked me."

"sh-shut up and put it in already, toru- hate it when you tease."

satoru snickered, but complied, grabbing at your legs again to flip your body over. he knew you loved getting fucked prone the most, you didn't even hesitate to grab a pillow to hold on to. something about the way you seemed to scream for him that much louder, claw at the sheets and burble for him to give you more more more— made it his new favourite position too.

so, with little hesitation, he positioned and pushed his cock into you, slowly enough for you to adjust to his girth. your eyes rolled back almost immediately, the way he filled you up could never get old.

you mewled into the pillow once he found a good starting pace, dragging his cock deliciously slow against your spongy walls. still, it was only a taste of what you knew he could give to you.

"more, toru, want more- shit!"

you barely started getting the greedy words out before satoru was settling a hand on the small of your back, using it and his palm flat against the bed as leverage to drill into you. now that he knew you were adjusted, he didn't hold back — what kind of guy would he be if he didn't give his girl everything she wanted (and then some)?

drool and tears soaked into the white pillowcase while your sticky essence doused his cock, collecting in a ring at the plinth of it. repetitive strings of "fuck yes!" mingled with his deep groans to ring throughout the room, bouncing off the walls in conjunction with his hips bouncing off your plush ass. he couldn't help but free up a palm to smack it, then two, three more times when he heard how much more noisy it made you.

"g'nna cum for me? yea?" he took note of the way you started to quake beneath him, your cunt clenching and releasing uncontrollably around his length. he knew your tells by now, and that quiver in your moans told him everything without you needing to say a word. satoru secured his hand around your throat, squeezing just enough at the sides for your brain to go foggy and remaining thoughts turn to mush.

like a thief in the night, your orgasm stole through you, bringing the simmer in your blood to a boil. heat flashed through your body, collecting to pulse through the walls of your cunt that clamped down against satoru's battering. with another ruined groan, he was right behind you, cock twitching and throbbing wildly inside you. rope after rope splattered your insides, though that didn't stop his hips from jerking in a fractured pattern.

you both came down panting. you turned in his arms to look up at him, his softened eyes were already centered on your face. as mean as he was when he fucked, he was always otherwise gentle with you — tender in a way that made a part of you melt with every touch. but he was your friend, and you both had a good system going. what would be the point of ruining it?

"what're you thinkin' about so hard already?" satoru's usual pouty cadence returned quick, successfully knocking your thoughts off track.

"i need a shower," was your only reply, and you moved to crawl from beneath him. your bed-partner's features toppled into a genuine frown; he knew exactly what that meant.

you were leaving him again.

but he wouldn't let it happen this time, not if he could help it.

"wait, y/n," he moved to gently grasp your arm before you could scoot off the edge of the bed. you turned to him with question in your gaze.

"let me join you," he propositioned, and a hint of a smile pulled at your lips.

"i don't know if i have the stamina left, toru."

"i won't- we can just shower. y'know, together," he started, freeing your arm to rub at the back of his neck, "and you could, y'know, stay."

your expression turned wry, "toru, you know why i can't-"

"no, actually, y/n. i don't," he scowled, "why can't you? why don't you? we've been close enough for so long, slept together for so long. you know i can take care of you."

exasperated, you stood. he followed quick, moving to hold your arms again. even in his own displeasure, he was mild. you were melting again.

"you tell me all the time we're just friends, but what if- what if i want more? need more, than just friendship with you?"

you gawped up at him, blinking in place of something to say. of course, you always had a kind of a feeling — satoru was not the man known for his subtlety — but it was another thing to hear him say it to you, much less with this desperately pleading intonation.

"satoru, i..." you sighed, "i can't fuck this- we can't fuck this up. you're too precious to me."

"but what if we don't? you're precious to me too, y/n, more than you even know."

and for all you knew, he could be right. he was always sweet with you — patient, attentive, doting, so painfully soft. it wasn't like the thought hadn't crossed your mind before, either. you contemplated staying with him several times before, fantasized on what a 'morning after' — many 'morning-afters' — would even look like. but shit, what would you do if you one of you found a way to mess things up? topple a best-friendship you've had going for more years than you could even trace back?

"i just- i can't lose you, satoru."

"you won't. you're stuck with me forever, pretty, we promised."

he moved to cup your cheeks, holding your face akin to the way someone held precious china.

"i like you way too much. shit, at this point i think i love you."

your bottom lip wobbled. this snow-haired fuck really did always make it hard to say no to him.

"i-i like you too, toru. a lot."

"so you'll stay," he gleamed, making a statement more than he was asking a question, "please say you'll stay."

"yes, toru, fine. i'll stay."

with his smile still very much in place, he leaned down to kiss you.

god, he couldn't wait to finally wake up to you tomorrow.

942 notes · View notes

vettelsvee · 10 months ago

Note

Hey, how's it going?I have been thinking, for me, Seb gives off a GREAT vibe of a big family guy, who has a big family with the person he loves, my opinion of course. Could you write something like this?

E a propósito, adoro tudo o que você escreve!!

ROADTRIP TO MONACO | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

retired sebastian vettel x wife!reader

word count: 2894

summary: seb and a pregnant y/n go and have a trip to monaco with their three little ones after seb's retirement

warnings: none, just mentions of pregnancy sickness as y/n is on her first term of her pregnancy! fluff, lots of fluff, and dad!seb

a/n: i love that seb. i actually love seb and oscar so much that the only thing i want to do is write about them. i'll be waiting your feedback, comments and requests please! and also, don't forget reblogs are truly appreciated (also, so close to 1k! tysm to you all because i most of the times feel surreal with all of this and how much you seem to enjoy my fics). also, anon: hope you like this!

The soft melody of an alarm broke through the darkness of the bedroom Sebastian and you shared around one-thirty in the morning, interrupting the couple's deep sleep. Sebastian, still startled by the noise, managed to quickly stretch his arm to turn off the alarm in an attempt to fully wake up. Meanwhile, you rubbed your eyes, fighting against the tiredness.

"Is it already time to get up, sunshine?" you asked sleepily.

"Yes, darling, it's time," Seb nodded as he sat up in bed. "If we want to get to Monaco on time and avoid Charles from killing us. We should leave in about an hour and a half."

You yawned, curling up under the blankets.

"But it's too early, love… Don't you think we could, and should, sleep a little longer?"

Sebastian approached you and gently stroked your hair. He was aware that the fourth pregnancy was being a bit challenging for you compared to the previous three, despite being only in the second month.

If fatigue, nausea and dizziness were making life difficult for you at the moment, he didn't want to imagine how you would feel four months from now.

"Y/N, sweetheart, don't worry. Let me be in charge of waking up the kids and getting everything ready. You stay here and rest a little longer, okay? I promise I'll let you know when everything is ready so you only have to get in the car."

You looked at him with a tired but grateful expression. Still, you knew you had to help prepare the final details of the trip, and most importantly, make sure the kids were perfectly ready..

"Are you sure? I don't want you to take on all the work, really," you expressed with concern in your voice. "Even though I'm tired, I can help you..."

"I'm absolutely sure, darling," the man interrupted, smiling and giving you a warm kiss on the forehead. "These are the kinds of things I retired for, so focus on going back to sleep, alright? I'll see you in a bit, liebe."

"Sebastian…" you spoke again. "I'm really serious: we're in this together, and I don't want you to handle everything alone. It's a family trip, not a trip of Seb with his three kids. I want to help."

He admired your determination, but he wanted you to be treated as you deserved.

"I know, Y/N," he explained, "but I also know how tired you are. Really, allow yourself not to worry about your kids for once. I promise I'll wake you up soon enough so you can get ready."

You nodded, trying to avoid continuing the conversation and settling back into bed, closing your eyes and trying to sleep without thinking about how long your husband might take to prepare your kids.

Meanwhile, Sebastian left the room with determination and headed towards the children's rooms. Emily, Charlotte and Matilda slept all in different rooms, so he went from door to door, opening them gently and affectionately, and then approaching each bed.

He first woke up Charlotte, the middle one, who rubbed her eyes and looked at her father, confused.

"Dad, what's going on?" she asked, puzzled. "Did you have a nightmare and want to sleep with me? Or is mom having the baby?"

"No, no," Sebastian chuckled at his seven-year-old daughter's antics. "It's time to wake up. Remember we're going to Monaco today."

The little girl's eyes lit up immediately.

"Yes, that's right! We're going to your old workplace!"

After letting her fully wake up, the head of the family went to the room of the youngest, Matilda, who was four years old.

"Matilda, wake up, honey," whispered Vettel, giving her a gentle tap on her shoulder. "We have an exciting day ahead. We're going to see those fast cars daddy used to drive."

The youngest Vettel lazily stretched in his small bed and yawned. Sebastian then smiled, picking her up while she just wanted to hug Seb.

"That's what I like to see, little one," he commented, tousling her hair. "Let me dress you so mom doesn't have to worry too much, okay?"

Both the children and Sebastian hurried to get ready. There was no doubt that, despite the sleepiness, the family was full of energy and excitement for what awaited them in the country about seven hours from their residence.

After also waking up Emily, your eldest, and making sure all of them were ready, Seb put cartoons on the living room TV to keep the children entertained and returned to his room, where you were still resting, seemingly peacefully asleep.

"Honey, the kids are ready. They're waiting for us in the living room. Are you feeling better?" he whispered as softly as he could, gently stroking your arm.

You opened her eyes and sat up in bed, stretching aggressively. “Thank you so much for getting our little devils ready, I owe you one."

He tenderly kissed you on the lips.

"You don't owe me anything, you did enough effort to bring them into the world and act as both father and mother when I wasn't around. Let me help you get ready, we have a great day ahead."

Quickly, Seb helped you change you clothes, gently touching your small but already slightly prominent pregnant belly. Once you were finally dressed in sportswear for comfort, you both walked hand in hand out of the room and headed to the living room, where your children were already waiting impatiently.

After making sure everything was ready and the kids had no further needs, you all headed to the garage, quickly getting into the family car. While Sebastian made sure the suitcases fit perfectly in the trunk, you took care of buckling the children up and offering them a few games or movies to keep them entertained on the way, although you were quite aware they would end up asleep.

"Are you all ready?" you inquired, turning around from the passenger seat and looking at her children with a smile as Seb began to start the car.

"Yes, mommy, let's go!" exclaimed little Matilda, who received cheers from her sisters.

With the car's engine purring softly, they set off on the Swiss roads amidst the darkness of the night, which, despite being synonymous with tiredness, brought a surge of energy to the youngest members of the family, where conversations and plans for Monaco came to the forefront.

"Do you think grandpa Norbert is going to come, Dad? I heard you talking to him the other day," exclaimed Charlotte, once again showing her admiration for Sebastian's sister. "Is grandma Heike coming too?"

"I want to hear the loud noises of the cars and see how fast they go," Emily added immediately, excited.

Sebastian smiled as he drove, very happy to hear the excitement of his children and, especially, to be sharing such an experience with you all not only after his retirement.

As the hours went by, tiredness arrived, and the children fell asleep. Quite the opposite happened with you: you woke up when you no longer heard the sudden conversations between the siblings. As you progressed along the winding roads and approached Monegasque territory, the sky began to lighten, giving them a beautiful sunrise.

"Look, honey, the sun is rising," you commented to Seb, pointing to the horizon stained with warm colors. "I can't believe we're finally arriving in Monaco after weeks of waiting..."

After a couple more hours of driving, and lively conversation among the family resulting from a brief stop for breakfast and in your case, vomiting a couple of times, you arrived in Monaco. The city looked completely different from any other time of the year as the streets were adorned with flags and banners for the Grand Prix. Furthermore, the grandstands, the paddock, and the countless yachts docked in the harbor made Monte Carlo seem even richer than it already was.

"We're here, guys," Sebastian announced to his children sweetly. "If you need something, just make sure to tell me, alright?”

Seb parked the Mercedes in a parking lot reserved for VIP guests, and then got out of the car to help you. He made then a phone call, possibly to Leclerc, your kids began to stroke your belly. You reacted early and quickly moved them away, aware that journalists and paparazzi could discover the secret.

"Let's follow dad, guys," you whispered to them, getting down to their level. "And remember: no one, not Uncle Charles or anyone who asks you, can know that dad and I have made a little baby, okay?"

The children nodded in response to your question, which somewhat reassured you were still nervous. However, the excitement began to set in as you walked alongside your kids, following Seb towards the place where the free practice sessions would take place, partially pushing aside your worries. The sound of the engines grew louder with each step you took, with the youngest of the family covering her ears with his little hands.

"Look, mommy: there's the Ferrari team!" exclaimed Emily pointing towards the red team's garage.

Charles appeared in his racing suit, as Free Practice was set to begin in just thirty minutes.

As soon as he spotted your husband, who was slightly ahead of all of you, he raised his arms in the air with great joy at seeing him again on the circuits, a wide smile adorning his face.

"Charles!" exclaimed Seb when he finally reached the Monegasque, giving him a strong hug. "Thank you so much for inviting us. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. The kids are very excited to be here, and especially to see you."

Leclerc returned the hug to the German, reminiscing about the two years they were teammates.

"You don't have to thank me, Seb," replied the Ferrari driver. "I'm sure Emily and Charlie remember something, but I know it's all new for Matilda. Anyway, I'm sure they'll enjoy it like the first time, just like Y/N!"

As the conversation continued between the two men, you and the kids surrounded the Ferrari driver, who felt a bit shy seeing the children's excited faces.

"Thank you, Charles," you expressed with your little ones embracing you somewhat shyly. "We're very grateful that you made it possible for us to come," you leaned closer to the Monegasque and whispered: "and don't tell anyone, but despite Ferrari's shitty strategies, you're doing great."

After a few minutes of conversation catching up on your respective live, and where Seb almost revealed you were expecting your fourth child, Charlotte, Emily and Matilda crowded around Charles, excited to see their father's former teammate again. Despite the constant denials from the team engineers, he managed to let your kids have a close look at his car.

"Look," said Charles, excitedly, pointing to the vehicle, "this is the car I'll be practicing with today, and that's my teammate's, Carlos," he pointed to the car beside it. "What do you think?"

The children's eyes widened with passion as they began to examine the car closely.

"Can we touch it, Uncle Charles?" asked the four-year-old, grabbing Leclerc's race suit pants.

Charles smiled, nodding enthusiastically, inwardly melting at the scene he was witnessing. He wished he could see himself like that with Olivia in a few years.

"Of course, but do it quickly so you father doesn’t get fined again," he said jokingly.

While the kids explored the car, and after you joined them shortly after, Charles and Seb began to converse animatedly yet seriously about the expectations for the Grand Prix and the sensations he had so far in the 2024 Formula 1 season.

The sudden hustle in the Ferrari garage made it clear that Free Practice 1 was about to begin. Sebastian and Charles had their conversation interrupted when Leclerc's beloved engineer insisted he get into the car as soon as possible. It was finally time for you to head to the corresponding grandstand to enjoy the practice session.

The Monegasque was forced, much to his regret, to interrupt his conversation with the your husband. Seb, however, understood, and immediately turned to you all, who were eagerly waiting to go to the best spot to watch the cars go around.

"Come with me, kids," notedhim, "it's time to go up to the VIP grandstand to get a better view of the session."

Taking Matilda in his arms, holding his daughters' hands with his free hand, and with you on his left, you all formed a little chain to avoid getting lost in the commotion on you way to the designated spot.

You were moved by the scene you were witnessing. Holding onto Seb's free arm, you tried to control your tears as your followed your husband's lead.

Minutes later, you had found your reserved seats, but numerous fans who had recognized Seb had delayed him. You were used to this, as were your kids. Moreover, none of your minded as they were aware that Seb had done great things for and in the world of motorsport.

“Look dad!”, exclaimed Emily excitedly as her father sat down next to her, “That's Charles! He's going really fast!”

"Yes, he's going fast indeed, Emily," Seb answered, still in shock at what he was witnessing after many time.

As the practice hour progressed, you captured some moments of the family with your camera, all of them fully caught up in the energy emanating from the circuit at that moment. The applause and words of encouragement, though impossible to hear for the drivers, were felt as the local hero made his appearance on the track.

When it came to an end, faster than they thought, you all made your way back to the Ferrari garage, where Charles had promised to meet his former teammate after the session.

Once there, you saw the blue-eyed with his girlfriend, Alexandra, engaged in lively conversation, likely about what had happened on the track during the previous hour. Charles, upon seeing Sebastian with you at the garage door, hurried over as fast as he could.

"Seb, I thought you'd be gone!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I didn't get to see you: you know, speed problems," he laughed at his own bad joke, "but I'm sure you had a good time, and your amazing wife and kids did too, right?"

Matilda and Charlotte shouted in unison. You and Emily nodded quickly.

"I'm really impressed, Charles," Vettel said enthusiastically. "Apart from the track being in wonderful condition, the weather cooperating, and not having too many idiots running around today, your performance has been incredible."

Alex joined the conversation, greeting your and the kids first, and then Seb.

"It's been wonderful seeing you in the stands. I wish I didn't have to stay locked up in the garage all day, but there are these crazy Charles fangirls out there..." she joked.

You laughed at the comment. If she only knew all that you had to go through in the early years of your relationship with Seb…

"Anyways…" Leclerc began, placing his arm around his girlfriend's waist. "Alex and I have been talking these past few days and we'd like to ask you if you'd like to join us for dinner tonight. It would be nice for us to spend some time together, just relaxing, and celebrate that you've finally come back around here," he explained, looking directly at your husband.

"But really, if it's any inconvenience for you," she hurried to add, "or if you need to head back home or..."

Sebastian looked at you, who nodded excitedly at the proposal.

"It would be an honor, Charles."

After exchanging details for the dinner, they bid farewell momentarily due to Leclerc's press commitments. During that time, you returned to the hotel where you would stay for a couple of days to freshen up and prepare for dinner, as managing three children wasn't an easy or simple task.

When you met again, this time at the restaurant, you were warmly welcomed by its members. Dinner unfolded amid laughter and lively conversations, mostly revolving around Formula 1 anecdotes and your private lives.

As the night progressed, Seb and Charles delved into deeper topics about the world that absorbed so much of their lives. Alex and you, on the other hand, got to know each other more and realized they had more in common than you initially thought.

The children, meanwhile, were having the time of their lives: Charlie, Emily, and Matilda, who fell asleep early, spent the night playing games with the young couple, who still seemed like kids in your eyes.

"I hope you've enjoyed the day, guys," Charles said, raising his glass of wine. "I hope we can enjoy many more moments together, especially when the little one comes because, Y/N, I know there’s a reason why you’re not drinking alcohol when you like wine so much."

"Cheers!" you all exclaimed while you tried not to get nervous and more shy than you actually were, laughing at the revealed secret.

As you continued to enjoy the delicious food, along with the laughter and entertaining stories, you knew that trip to Monaco would become a cherished memory in the years to come. There was no doubt you should definitely do this more often and, above all, around the world if given the chance, something you had been waiting for years.

339 notes · View notes

strangelysamantha · 6 months ago

Note

Could you do a Y/n x Rafe Cameron fluff where they go from friends to dating but they start dating bc of topper was texting y/n to talk rafe that she likes him and all that stuff but topper didn’t know that rafe was on her phone when he sent those messages, and make it super fluffy and stuff!! Please and Thank you!! Btw I love your work!

exposed ❀

rafe cameron x reader.

warnings: none.

words: 740.

summary: rafe sees a text from topper, exposing your little crush on him. at first you try to play it off, but you gain enough confidence to tell rafe about your feelings.

request: yes!!

a/n: this is such a cute idea tysm! thank you for requesting i really appreciate it. love and reblog if you enjoy, possibly a follow if you're feeling generous. im so happy to have an audience to share my stories with. :)

masterlist link

-------------------------------------

rafe cameron was the sexiest guy you had ever met. unfortunately, you were stuck in the friend zone. you never attempted to make a move, too nervous to ruin what you already had. the friendship was nice, and rafe was too difficult to read.

he was currently at your house for a hangout sesh. you two started with watching a movie, eating popcorn, laughing at the cheesy lines. you guys' shared looks, cringing at the poor acting. "would you be down to order some food?" he questions. "i'm down! what would you like?" you open doordash on your phone, quickly handing it to him. "let me see what they have." he scrolled the app, overwhelmed by all the choices. he chose a restaurant, now searching for what meal he wanted to order. he laughs suddenly. and you get nervous. "what?" you question, he points your phone towards you, a text from topper. are you with rafe right now? you need to tell him how you feel.

a red tint lifts to your cheeks, you bite your lip nervously. you are unsure of what to say, so instead you stay silent. topper texts again, come on you know he likes you back it is so obvious. you dramatically grab the phone from rafe, "maybe let's wait to order food, or we can use your phone." you set it behind you, ultimately pissed at topper for exposing your secret so carelessly.

"do you like me?" he's calm and curious, his face completely unreadable and now your stomach is flipping at the thought of telling rafe the truth. "i don't know what topper is talking about, were just friends." you laugh gently, quickly glancing away. when you look back, you see a moment where his guard is down. sadness flashed over him, but he quickly covered it up. "right, why would we ruin what we have?" silence settles between you two, time slowly passes as you stay on the couch, unable to move. "why would topper even think that?" he questions, smiling. he elbows you gently, "i don't know. i think he just feels bad because i haven't had a date in a month." rafe nods, looking away. you think for a moment, and after that moment passed you came to the realization that topper was right. the longer you wait to tell rafe, the more time you give your feelings to fester. it's better to rip the band aid off, cut the plug before anything got too far.

"topper knows that i like you rafe." you straighten yourself out, finding courage to admit everything. "all summer he's been urging me to express how i feel, but i've been too scared." rafe is shocked at your words, his heart starts to race. he stays quiet, letting you continue. "i never thought i'd tell you, because we are great friends. and i'd rather be just a friend, then risk losing you entirely. but i can't hide it anymore. my feelings are real..." you lower your voice, "my attraction to you is real too." you look at rafe, desperate for him to say something, "i really like you too, but i didn't think you could love someone like me." you shake your head, shushing him gently. "don't say that. you deserve so much love rafe." he forms a small smile, you lean in, "would you consider going on a date with me?" he shakes his head and for a moment your heart stops. "i'd rather be your boyfriend." you sigh with relief, "of course rafe." you lean in for a kiss, his arms immediately wrapping around your waist. "i've been dying for this moment." he whispers, close to you. the close proximity to rafe fills you with nerves, his scent strong, and his eyes soft. "me too, so bad." you kiss him again, hungrier this time. desperate for his taste and touch. you pull away, "i should have said something sooner, huh?" he grins. "definitely. but at least you did today." you frown.

"why didn't you make a move first?" your question was endearing to him, he shrugs, "well i didn't know if you actually liked me or not, and i figured if you did like me, you would have said something already." you pull him into a hug, and he snakes his arms around you. "let me take you on a date tomorrow." you grin, "yes please." he looks at you, "it's a date."

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fluffy #rafe cameron x reader fluff #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron story #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fluff

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xoxotiamathh · 5 months ago

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GAME !

A Channelled Moment between you and your SP

Note: hi guys, no minors allowed xx, please fr, ok so for this game I wanted to do a PAC but idt i can rn so I'll make it a game, a channelled sexual or sexually charged moment between you and your specific person, the specific person can ONLY be either your current partner, next partner or future spouse. Have fun and stay hydrated if you wanna join please do tysm, my paid readings are open if you'd like to support me further that being said let's get on w this!! <33 sfw acc: @tiamathh

Masterlist • Paid readings

Rules

- NO MINORS tysm

- Be nice be patient

- No anons, I'll send it over privately dw

- Provide Initials

- Check Status

- Like and Reblog this post

- Like and Reblog my last PAC (optional)

Status

CLOSED

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fics-lovebot · 2 months ago

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jujutsu kaisen fic recs pt. 2

main masterlist - jjk fic recs pt. 1 - jjk fic recs pt. 3

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

these are my personal favs, so pls reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

big ttity gf - ( @cckaisen ) smau, suggestive, crack- LMAOOO THE INUMAKI ONES ALWAYS MAKE ME UGLY CACKLE

hey so i, like, want u or wtvr - ( @leyiorr ) CRACK, fluff, accidental confession smau. bro i swear, the inumaki ones kill me everytime i can´t, he is SO outta pocket

good! now punch his face! - ( @tender-rosiey ) crack, slice of life, jjk men and their kids being two peas in a pod, love it sm

i know you still think about the times we had - ( @saetoru ) angst, fluff, rich bf!gojo, his father makes you break up with him, it´s so angsty omg, they get into this HUGE argument bc gojo´s dad is a controlling mf

sanctuary - ( @arminsumi ) fluff, lowkey angst, weak!reader, bully!gojo, nah he´s just in love but doesn´t know how to say it

flicker of flame - ( @tteokdoroki ) fluff, nervous soon to be dad!gojo, pregnant!reader, he´s going to be the best dad ever

mirror´s pov - ( @teddybeartoji ) smut, "satoru likes jerking off in front of a mirror" YUP, a whole POV of him beating his meat to the thought of you BEAUTIFULLY written, very detailed

thatgirlis..poison!! - ( @gojosprettyprincess ) gojo smut, overstimulation. this is some gewwwd pwp, we love to see it

the weakeast - ( @screampied ) gojo ANNngst, character death mention. yall already know when it comes to angst i´m that girl, i know i good, well written angst when i see it

edging - ( @pseudowho ) smut, pwp, fluff, this,,,,this is one the BEST nanami smuts out there, i just know the description of the whole thing is 100% accurate, the details, the way this is written, the visuaLSsss ldskjfhjsalfh go read it pls

riding - ( @screampied ) smut, hubby!nanami, "riding nanami so good that it makes him want to propose", LASJHLSFJH THIS IS SOME GOOD STUFF, the ride was so good he had to propose.. again

my wife - ( @chastiefoul ) FLUFF, period. married!nanami and his obssession with the word "wife", I WANT TO KMS HE´S SO :((((((

husband vibes - ( @rayveneyed ) nanami fluff. read it, just do it, YOU NEED THIS POV IN YOUR MIND I PROMISE

forgotten lunch - ( @nanaslutt ) SMUT, fluff, possessive husband!nanami. RAAAAAAAH ( insert picture of that one werwolf ripping his shirt) this is crrraaazzzyyyyYYYYYYYYYY, nanami makes me go fucking FERAL

furniture shopping - ( @cursingtoji ) suggestive. this is such a toji thing fr lmao

more than a gym crush - ( @suguae ) toji smut, fluff. this one´s for us maladaptive daydreaming girlies

u still mad at me? - ( @dilfl0v3rss ) toji smut, praising, multiple orgasms, fluff if you squint. THIS IS SO- I FUCKIGN HATEHIMMMMMM, AND WHY DOES HE LIKE TO SUCK TOES I-plsiwanthimsobad

phoque - ( @slttygeto ) crack, teacher!suguru, twin girls dad!suguru, he accidentally curses in front of his daughters and now he´s gotta make up some bullshit story to save his ass, SLFHSLDKJHSLDH this is funny

fingers in his hair - ( @garoujo ) smut, choso loves having his hair pulled when he´s eating pussy,,,,,,,CALL A MF AMBULANCE a bitch just died

cherry blossoms - ( @sellenite ) smut, virgin!choso, phone sex, it´s his first orgasm yall, not yuji talking about a "sloppy toppy" LSJFHLSJDFHLFDH he´s so outta pocket

asleep - ( @tired-biscuit ) suggestive kinda, fluff, slice of life. "choso looks like a guy that would fall asleep with your titty in his mouth." you know what,,,hell yeah, he does

meanie - ( @arminsumi ) smut, mean!choso, “Why you actin’ like some dick-starved whore? I fucked you good this morning" THE WAY I SCREAMEDDDDDDDD “Is that what you needed, princess? Some good dick?" STOOOOOOOOOPPPP

it´s too much - ( @vienssunshine ) smut, dom!reader, inexperienced!choso and sub!chose fics are like crack to me, i´m obsessed, this is so detailed, he is eager to please sdlfjls and wants to try it all at once

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ggukivrse · 14 days ago

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henna kisses | jjk

summary. in which you're stuck waiting for your henna to dry, and jungkook takes full advantage to pepper you with kisses

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

word count: 0.6k

genre/warnings: established relationship au, FLUFF, they’re just very much in love it’s sick

notes: first of all, TYSM FOR 500 FOLLOWERS OMG :0 i literally started this acc 3 weeks ago so this is wild to me, but genuinely, thank you so so much ☹️ i wrote this drabble as a baby army so it’s very self indulgent loll, but some of you wanted to read it when i mentioned it here, so here it is :> likes, comments, reblogs, asks & feedback are very appreciated! enjoy reading <33

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback

Your hands are frozen in mid-air, fingers spread, palms facing the ceiling like you're offering up something delicate to the universe. The henna glistens wetly against your skin, intricate patterns looping and curling over your fingers and wrists.

You can't move. You can't touch anything. You can't even scratch the itch teasing the inside of your elbow. And Jungkook knows it.

He's sitting cross-legged in front of you, chin resting on one hand. He looks far too pleased with himself, far too comfortable.

"You know," you say, careful not to shift too much, "this is your fault."

"My fault?" he echoes, all fake innocence, the corners of his mouth twitching. "You're the one who wanted henna."

"You're the one who did the henna," you argue, looking down at the designs blooming over your skin. Tiny flowers, delicate vines, little stars tucked into the spaces between your knuckles. "And you made it so pretty. I didn't know you could even draw like this."

He beams, the kind of smile that makes your stomach flip even though you're firmly planted on the couch. "I had good inspiration."

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks are heating up. You can't even hide it; your hands are too occupied to pull a pillow over your face or smack him playfully like you usually would.

And Jungkook knows. He scoots closer, the couch cushions dipping under his weight. You narrow your eyes at him.

"Kook," you warn. "Don't you dare."

He grins, devilish, and before you can do anything, he's leaning in, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, feather-light. You squeak, trying to recoil, but you can't do much without ruining the henna.

"You're defenseless," he singsongs, poking at your cheek with the gentlest tap of his finger. You jerk your head away instinctively and he laughs, low and breathy, the sound vibrating right into your chest.

"I hate you," you mutter, glaring.

"You love me," he corrects, like it's the simplest truth in the world.

And he doesn't give you a chance to argue, swooping in to press a kiss to your forehead. Another to your temple. One to the tip of your nose. He's quick about it, peppering kisses wherever he can reach, giggling when you try to dodge.

"Jungkook," you whine, laughing despite yourself. "You're going to make me mess it up!"

"I'm helping," he insists, kissing the corner of your mouth, so soft and sweet it makes your heart ache a little. "Distractions make time go faster."

You groan, slumping against the couch, careful to keep your hands up. "You're impossible."

"You picked me," he reminds you smugly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. His fingertips are warm and careful, like he knows you can't retaliate and is being extra gentle to compensate. "You and your pretty hands."

Your voice is small when you say it, but it slips out anyway. "You really did a good job."

Jungkook's smile softens. He leans back just enough to look at your hands, admiration flickering across his face like he's proud of the art and proud of you just for trusting him with it.

"You look beautiful," he says simply, no teasing now, just honest, overwhelming affection. "Hands and all."

You can't hug him. You can't kiss him back. All you can do is sit there, heart pounding out a rhythm that's almost as intricate as the designs he drew on you, and wait for the henna — and maybe your own overwhelming feelings — to dry.

taglist | click here to join: @thegreatdepressionme @golden-loona @kissyfacekoo @cookysstuff @whoa-jo @minghaosimp @dark-enigma1806 @yooniepot @levisnumber1 @blueofocean @oumy221 @uarmygguk @libra04 @parkinglot-nights @jungkook1love @eyesforjungkook @ronyiboniyy @sebastianlover @nikkinikj @kenzierj11 @bugbxte @operation-619 @gguklovrr @annyeongbitch7 @sheshya @mswannadiesworld @yunhoswrldddd @myenergyandstuff @stardustbaee

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pocketjoong · 2 years ago

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❥𓂃𓏧EARLY MORNINGS

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS): You wake up to find Hongjoong in your studio. What started with you helping Hongjoong, turns into an unexpected confession from the idol himself.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) idol!Hongjoong x afab!producer!Reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (GENRE AND AU/TROPE): friends/co-workers to lovers. idiots in love.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) smut. pwp. use of pet names (princess, love, etc). choking. oral (f!recieveing). orgasm denial. soft joongie. joongie is whipped. lmk if I am missing something. MDNI.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 3.3k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (NOTES) Happy Hongjoong Day everyone!! I wanted to write something sappy, but I'll just keep it to myself, mostly bc I really don't have the words to express my admiration and love for this precious little human. So, if you enjoy this, please do consider reblogging or leaving feedback! shoutout to @joong-of-gold for beta reading this! TYSM

You awaken to the distant, muffled rumble of thunder, a gentle intrusion on the stillness of your soundproof studio. The first glimmer of awareness reveals the early morning hour, for light filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow throughout the room, but the sun is nowhere to be seen. You can also tell that it rained a few minutes back because you can see the wet streaks on the window and the fog that lingers outside.

In the haze between wakefulness and sleep, you realise that you are covered with a jacket that is definitely not yours. Inhaling deeply, you catch the scent of familiar cologne that clings to the soft material. Your gaze shifts, and sure enough, you spot him seated on your chair, bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of the computer screens. Hongjoong looks beautiful in the soft light of your studio, akin to an angel, as he works on something you’re unable to discern from the couch. You blink away the remnants of sleep, confused as to why Hongjoong is using your studio when he has his own a couple of doors away.

“Hongjoong?” Your voice is a mere whisper in the silence of the studio as you sit up, absentmindedly watching the way his jacket falls and pools onto your lap.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re awake?” Hongjoong leans back into the chair, his fingers running through his recently dyed hair, which appears somewhat tousled as if he'd been frustratedly tugging at the strands. His hair is a dirty blonde and way shorter than it was when you saw him yesterday morning, a few inches away from being a buzz cut, but it suits him well. But then, you suppose he looks good in all hairstyles. After all, you’re yet to see him in one he’s unable to pull off.

Your curiosity is piqued, and you tilt your head as you regard Hongjoong, noting the fatigue etched across his features. A quick glance at the wall clock tells you that it’s just past five in the morning, prompting you to wonder how long he has been in the building. Given that the last time you checked, the time was before 4 a.m., it dawns on you that he must have entered your studio sometime within the past hour. The realisation that he didn't return to the dorms last night tugs at your heart, and a sigh escapes at the thought as worry for him grips your heart.

“Sorry for barging in unannounced,” Hongjoong begins, his voice carrying slight remorse. “I was working on something, but then I got stuck. I thought being here would provide some inspiration... But..." He trails off, shoulders lifting in a half-hearted shrug. As he begins to rise up from your chair, you quickly shake your head to signal him to remain seated.

"Just," you reply with a sigh, pushing yourself off the couch and stretching, wincing at the satisfying crack of your joints. "Lemme freshen up and get some caffeine into my system. Would you like some?"

Hongjoong politely declines with a shake of his head, already returning his attention to the screens. “It’s fine. I had a cup about twenty minutes ago.”

“Mmhkay,” you mumble as you exit the studio to wash up. Upon your return, you feel notably more alert, though you're confident that a cup of strong coffee will definitely help you more. You search the closet for the coffee grounds, tiptoeing to reach the packet.

“You know, you look…” Hongjoong’s voice trails off, his gaze sweeping over your figure as though he's searching for a gentler way to phrase his thoughts. You've barely managed an hour of sleep in the past 48 hours, and you’re sure exhaustion has taken its toll.

“Like a mess?” You interject with a wry chuckle, playfully finishing his sentence while switching on the coffee machine.

“Nah, you're too pretty for that,” he smirks, causing you to roll your eyes in response, even though his words send a delightful pang through your heart. “But you look like you haven’t been getting much sleep, which is surprising since you were in dreamland when I arrived.”

“That's because I haven’t,” you admit, watching the coffee streaming into the cup you've placed beneath the machine. You hum happily when the smell of coffee permeates the room, making you relax further. “If you don't count the one-hour nap I managed after finishing that video call.”

"Video call?" Hongjoong echoes, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Yeah, there's this American band that's eager to collaborate on a track with me, so we were hashing out the details until the wee hours, around four a.m.,” you explain, picking up the cup of coffee and turning to look at Hongjoong, who now appears to be deeply engrossed in the contents on the computer screen. “You sure you don't want some coffee, Joong-ah?”

"Mhmm, I’m good," he responds, brows furrowed as his attention is momentarily diverted by your offer.

You nod, even though he can’t see it and take a sip from the cup, savouring the rejuvenating warmth. It breathes life back into your tired form, revitalising you in a matter of moments. Crossing the studio, you lean against the wall, observing as Hongjoong plays with the sounds.

You both share a quiet moment, with Hongjoong immersed in his work and you taking intermittent sips of your coffee. In the silence of the studio, your thoughts drift back to the day Eden introduced the two of you. Despite being Hongjoong's age, you had already earned a degree in music production and established a modest reputation in both the Korean and Western music scenes. Eden had recognised your talent and had been quick to scout you, asking if you'd like to work for KQ. It was an appealing proposition, one that offered you the flexibility to pursue personal projects without forfeiting your earnings from outside ventures. So you had agreed without any hesitation.

Not long after, the older man introduced you to Hongjoong. You had already heard of him, the sole trainee at KQ for several months, eager to delve into the realm of music production. So, Eden entrusted you with the task of guiding Hongjoong’s musical journey since you had a professional degree. Although you were initially hesitant, circumstances conspired, and over time, a strong friendship blossomed between the two of you.

“So,” you begin, finally setting down your half-empty cup of coffee on the cabinet on noticing Hongjoong’s visible frustration. “What's got you all worked up?”

“I want to remix a track for the new album,” he replies, gesturing toward the computer screen in a state of vexation. “I had this vision when Eden hyung told me about it, but nothing seems to click.”

“Can I see what you’ve done so far?” You inquire, moving closer to lean over his shoulder, regarding the screen with pursed lips. You hold out your hand, requesting for the headphones. When Hongjoong doesn't immediately pass them to you, you turn to face him, only to find him peering at you through half-lidded eyes, his expression inscrutable. In a sudden, surprising move, he pulls you onto his lap, eliciting an involuntary squeak from you and a hearty laugh from the mischievous idol.

“Sorry, love,” he says, though there is a distinct lack of remorse in his tone. “It'll be easier for both of us this way.”

He removes the headphones from around his neck and allows you to wear them before pressing play. As the music fills your ears, you’re acutely aware of Hongjoong’s arms encircling your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder. Despite the delightful distraction, you focus your attention on the remixes he's crafted thus far. It becomes evident why he's been wrestling with frustration; each track seems to lack the spark that’s needed for them to stand out.

“Did you have any other ideas?” you ask, swallowing hard as he nonchalantly shrugs while still entwined with you. His movement causes his chest to press against your back, and you can’t help but be flustered. You knew that he had been working out, but actually feeling his defined muscles beneath his shirt is a different sensation.

“Not really,” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear as he responds.

“Hmm,” you hum, doing a run-through of ATEEZ’s songs and attempting to conceive something more fitting while nestled against the group's leader. The endeavour turns out to be a more difficult enterprise than you initially anticipated. But you won’t complain; after all, he isn’t one to indulge in casual skinship, so you attribute it to sheer exhaustion and his mounting irritation. “I don't know if you've considered this... but there might be something that could work. Remember the beats I shared with you last week?”

“Do you mean this one?” he responds by humming a fragment of the track you had shared with him. With his chin still resting on your shoulder, his lips linger perilously close to your ear. You muster every ounce of restraint not to shiver pleasantly at his honey voice. “I had thought about it initially, but I didn’t want to use it without asking you.”

“Allow me to give it a try. I’m not entirely convinced either,” you assert, clearing your throat as you carefully get off Hongjoong’s lap. Retrieving your coffee mug, you lift it to your lips for a sip to regain your composure. Yet, in the very next moment, Hongjoong deftly snatches the mug from your grasp and takes a sip himself, letting out a light chuckle as your eyes widen in astonishment. You could swear you catch a whisper of “so cute” slipping from his lips under his breath, but you can’t be entirely certain, as he surely wouldn’t utter such words about you. Or would he?

Opting to dive into work, you retrieve the laptop and settle onto the couch, immersing yourself in the process. Lost in the task at hand, you’re completely unaware of Hongjoong’s intense gaze on you. It is only after you have a basic idea ready that you glance up and freeze. Shifting awkwardly in your seat for a brief moment, you bite your lips before patting the vacant space beside you on the couch. Silently, you press play as he takes his place by your side, watching him curiously as he focuses on the music filling the room.

“Wow,” Hongjoong breathes when he's done listening to the raw remix you’ve created. It's nothing extraordinary, merely an attempt to know if you’re going in the right direction, but the way his eyes sparkle as he looks at you tells you that you’ve struck gold. Before you know it, his lips are lightly grazing your cheek in a tender kiss, his proximity allowing his nose to gently brush against your skin.

It should alarm you, how quickly you’re melting into his touch, so easily giving into him. This feels inappropriate; you're coworkers first, friends second, and you're uncertain about the ethical implications, considering you both work for the same company. But as he nuzzles into your cheek, all rational thoughts fly out of the window.

“Damn it, Y/N,” you shiver at the rawness in his voice. “You're so cruel. How am I supposed to contain my feelings for you when every time I convince myself I'm content with just being your friend, you do something like this, and I'm head over heels for you all over again?”

“Hongjoong,” Your voice is breathy, and the way you say his name with a gasp almost sounds like a prayer.

He swears, drawing you closer and gazing into your eyes with an intense longing that leaves you wordless, “Don't say my name like that if you don’t want me to kiss you senseless.”

“Who's stopping you?” You whisper, fisting the front of his shirt in your hands, desperately searching for something to ground yourself.

Eagerly, he closes the distance, lips meeting yours with an ardour that takes you by surprise. He nips at your bottom lip, and you feel your resolve crumble. You allow him to dip his tongue into your mouth. As he pulls you onto his lap, you straddle him, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, drawing him closer. Abruptly, Hongjoong breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathes, closing his eyes when you shake your head. “If I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to hold back.”

“Joong,” you murmur, cradling his face between your hands, your lips finding his jaw. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” He whispers, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “I’d planned on asking you out on a date first, to be honest.”

You giggle at both the unexpected confession and his endearing hesitance, causing him to pout in response. You understand where he’s coming from; he’s usually steadfast, not easily swayed by desire or impulse, but it appears that his usual unwavering patience is slowly unravelling.

“We can do that later, I’m not going anywhere,” you say, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Although, if you're not comfortable going further, we can stop.”

Hongjoong shakes his head, his lips finding yours once more in a slow, sensual kiss. “I want you,” he mumbles between each lingering kiss. “I always have.”

His words elicit a whimper from you, and you grind your hips against him, causing the denim of his jeans to rub deliciously against your aching clit. Gasping at the contact, you meet his gaze, finding his lips swollen and rosy from your kiss, his pupils dilated with desire. The next moment, he pulls away from you and eagerly tugs at the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. You giggle at his eagerness, “Greedy, are we?”

Hongjoong smirks and leans down to press his lips against the top of your chest, murmuring, “Only for you, my love.”

A quiet moan escapes your lips as your hands find their way into his dishevelled, dirty blonde locks, tugging just hard enough to coax a groan from him. Hongjoong retaliates by sinking his teeth into your neck, biting down gently before withdrawing. When you practically melt into him, he smirks teasingly, “You like that, princess? Want more?”

You nod, gasping as one of his hands darts to your back, skillfully snapping open your bra. His other hand slips to your throat, exerting gentle pressure, almost experimentally, just enough to encourage a deeper breath.

“Mmm. Not like that, doll. Use your words,” Hongjoong pulls away fully, allowing you to see the smouldering desire in his eyes, a sight that sends your head spinning. It takes you a moment to find your voice, long enough for him to caress your cheek with one finger, prompting you to close your eyes. “Don’t leave me hanging, Y/N.”

Your eyelids flutter open, and you gaze at him with a sultry intensity. “I want you to touch me.”

A sly grin curves his lips as he leans in, nipping your lower lip provocatively. “See, now, that wasn’t too difficult, was it, princess?”

You let out a whine as his thumbs rub over your breasts, teasingly tracing patterns. He lowers his head to suck on the skin around your nipple, his lips leaving faint marks. Hongjoong’s mouth is warm and wet, and every time his tongue brushes over your sensitive flesh, your body arches up against his in yearning. When his teeth graze over the tender area, you can’t help but grind against his pulsing erection, desperately needing friction against your clit. “Joong, please.”

“I’ll make you cum, princess. I promise,” he says, offering an innocent smile that contradicts the desire blazing in his eyes.

You're on the verge of delivering a clever retort, but any semblance of wit vanishes when his fingers push your panties aside and plunge into your heat. Your mouth falls agape as his skilled fingertips find the sweet spot deep inside of you, making your toes curl. A primal need stirs within you, and you roll your hips to meet his fingers, and it’s not much later that your legs begin to tremble. You’re close, so close, but just as you're on the cusp of ecstasy, Hongjoong yanks his fingers back, causing you to let out a desperate sob.

He hushes you softly with a soft kiss, his lips a tender apology, “Just a bit more, princess. Can you hold on for a bit longer for me?”

As Hongjoong gently eases you down on the sofa, you notice that he’s still dressed. You pout, tugging at the edge of his shirt, “Joong… off, please?”

“Patience, my dear. I promised I’ll make you cum, didn’t I?” He moves off the couch, pulling you closer to him to spread your folds.

“Fuck—” You arch off the couch, a sharp gasp escaping your lips the second his lips close around your throbbing clit. One of his hands keeps your legs pressed to the side, not allowing you to close them. For what feels like an eternity, he keeps you pinned, fucking you with his tongue and fingers but never allowing the release you so desperately seek. You’re a sobbing, sensitive mess by the time he pulls away for what seems like the hundredth time and sweetly wipes away your tears. It’s not until you hear the crinkling of a condom wrapper that you realise Hongjoong is kneeling on the couch, already undressed and ready.

“You did so well, princess,” he smiles warmly, guiding your legs to wrap around his hips. “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

You nod eagerly, your voice almost desperate as you implore him, “Please… Joong, yes.”

He takes his time as he eases into your folds, knowing that you’re sensitive and you’re grateful for his consideration. Once he’s fully inside of you, he withdraws slowly, repeating the motion with a gentleness that leaves you breathless. Your nails dig into his shoulders, pulling him to you as you yearn to be as close to him as possible.

“Y/N, my love.” Hongjoong coaxes your eyes open gently, his eyes filled with concern. “Loosen up, please. I won’t be able to move otherwise.”

Taking a shaky breath, you relax, prompting him to smile. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

He slowly works up a rhythm, and it doesn’t take long for you to feel your high approaching. Sensing that you’re close, his warm fingers close around your throat to apply just the right amount of pressure. You clench around him in response, making him moan, deep and loud, as his eyes roll back.

“That’s it, princess,” he whispers, his hands trailing down to rub at your clit while he thrusts in and out slowly. His eyes draw shut as he revels in the sounds of your moans, your words unclear as you gasp out his name. “Will you cum for me, Y/N? Hm?”

You finally snap, your body feeling like fire as you succumb to pleasure. Hongjoong grabs you to keep you still. “You feel incredible, princess.,” he gasps, voice laced with desire. “You’re so good for me.”

All the sensations are too much for him, and he curses, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he chases his own release. The room fills with the sounds of both of your moans before Hongjoong collapses on top of you, showering affectionate kisses on your face and neck.

For a brief moment, neither of you utters a word, still caught in the hazy aftermath. Your legs feel like jelly, and you’re still a bit woozy, so you simply watch as Hongjoong eases back. He ties off the condom and drops it into the trash can near the door, dressing quickly. Then, he returns to you with damp tissues that he borrowed from your cupboard. “Are you okay, love? Feeling sore?” He inquires, concern evident in his gentle voice.

“A little, but it was absolutely worth it. I knew you had it in you,” you tease, playfully winking at him, and both of you share a tired yet content chuckle.

“Good,” he responds with a warm smile, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “Do you need anything?”

“Cuddles?” You pout, gazing up at Hongjoong.

“Anything my princess wants, she gets.”

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