#pushing thoughts of angst away and trying to make his escape
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touchy subject pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of a miscarriage, just pure agony! wc: 1.8k inspired by the song 'touchy subject' by peach prc. part 2
a white baby gate fixed in my hallway stays haunting the house with the angels we made; sometimes, i dream, a decade away, we meet in a grocery store; you look the same, with just a few grey hairs. the blonde little girl who tugs on your shirt with your smile looks nothing like me.
it had been four years since you had last been on kildare island; four years of trying to forget the life, or the ruined bones of one, that you'd been escaping from.
after ending your engagement with your fiancé, you'd traveled all around the country in your beat-up truck, hoping to find a place where you'd belong; only to end up back in the outer banks. they say there's no place like home, and in a way, it was true. you can leave kildare island, but kildare island will never leave you.
"everything okay?"
you're startled out of your thoughts by the melodic sound of your mother's voice, and when she follows your gaze to the baby-gate attached to the door leading to the kitchen, her mouth twists into a frown. "i was meant to take that down before you got here..." she chewed on her lower lip, a pang of guilt almost punching her in the chest.
"it's fine." you shrug, trying to lift the ends of your lips into a smile, only for it to look artificial and rehearsed. "i should start unpacking."
"alright." your mother placed her hand on your shoulder, but should've been a comforting gesture, made you feel like you were underwater and the hand was simply pushing you deeper.
you stood alone in the living room of your apartment, the only thing to be heard of was the ticking of the clock your mother had already mounted on the clock, mixed in with the sounds of passing cars, so unlike the day you first moved into the apartment, yet so much like the day you were last there.
"you should keep the apartment."
"rafe, i can't do that. it's way too much, and i'm leaving-"
"it's already in your name." the man sighed, smoothing his hand over his shaved head; he looked so different than usual, the dark bags under his eyes making him look like he had aged ten years, his usually tan face almost pale. "you can do whatever you want with it. keep it, sell it, i don't care. it's yours. i never want to step foot in this place again."
your feet were almost moving on their own, the hardwood floor cold under your feet, leading you to that door, and even though you felt your blood run cold, every cell of your body telling you not to open it, you couldn't help but nudge the door open.
you didn't know what you were expecting.
stepping into the room, you let your hand trail over the soft-pink wall, still remembering the smell of paint.
"you know, you shouldn't be doing that." he sighed, leaning against the doorway. "i can just hire someone to paint the walls."
you roll your eyes, your denim overalls covered in the soft pink paint as the paint stained the white wall, "i want to do this. i'm not gonna hire someone to do everything for me when i'm perfectly fine doing it on my own."
"you're not-"
"hush." you pointed the paint roller at rafe, "i'm doing this. now pick up a paint roller or quit whining."
you look down at the crib, lined with white lace, picking up the brown teddy bear that used to belong to you when you were a child, brushing your hand over the fur, straightening the pink bow around its neck.
hung above the crib, was a picture of a couple that had just gotten engaged, wide smiles on both of their faces; a couple that had once been so familiar to you, but now, it was like you couldn't recognize either of the people in the photos.
it felt like everyone was staring at you as they walked past you; four years clearly hadn't been long enough to make the people of outer banks forget about you, and as you made your way towards the local cafe, you couldn't help but think about how long it'd take for the person you didn't want to know you were in town to find out.
you were strolling down the street, rafe's hand in yours, your fingers intertwined. you licked the ice cream cone, deep in thought, letting rafe take the lead.
"what's going through that pretty head of yours?" he chuckled softly, bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, your engagement ring glimmering under the sunlight.
"baby names." you shrug, "what should we name her?"
"do you have any names in mind?"
"i was thinking..." you pursed your lips, not sure if the name you had been considering would be appropriate or not, chewing on your lower lip as you turn your head to face your fiancé, an expectant smile on his lips and his brows lifted in question, "evelyn."
when the name left your lips, you saw his mouth fall open, and for a moment you thought that you never should've spoken, but after rafe cleared his throat, there was a clear smile on his lips, his blue eyes glassy.
"you- you uh, wanna name her after my mom?"
"yeah." you smile, squeezing his hand. "i do."
for the millionth night, you were laid in bed, looking through pictures, featuring the faces of the couple above the crib in the room next door. pictures with the man's arms wrapped around the woman's waist, ones of them holding hands, ones where one was pressing a kiss the other person's cheek, ones from the several midsummers parties they spent together, ones from halloween, thanksgiving, christmas...
the girl in the dress she had planned to wear on her wedding day.
"rafe, where are you taking me?" you laughed, the blindfold covering your eyes, "if the blindfold's for some kinky purpose, you better forget about it."
rafe laughed, continuing to lead you, his large hands on your waist, "come on, have a little faith in me. i'm not that bad, am i?"
"oh, you definitely are. just last week we were an hour late to ava's party because you just thought i was irresistible."
rafe snorted, "well, that's because you were." he pressed a kiss on your cheek, "you can take it off." he whispered, taking a step away from you.
untying the blindfold, you blinked a few times, letting yourself get used to actually being able to see again, only to be startled by the sight of your boyfriend on one knee in front of you, a small velvet box in his hand, "rafe...?"
you wiped away the stray tear that had left your eye without permission before it could reach your jaw, continuing to scroll through the pictures, knowing that it'd be yet another sleepless night, but when you saw a picture of her, you paused.
you weren't sure who was more nervous, you or rafe, even though you were the one in the examination chair, your shirt pulled up and your rounded stomach on full display. his hand was tightly gripping yours, the man's jaw clenched.
"let's take a look, shall we?" the ultrasound technician smiled, and you nodded, feeling her spread the cold gel onto your stomach, a slight yelp leaving your lips, making rafe squeeze your hand even tighter. you looked to him, nodding reassuringly, speaking softly, "it's okay."
rafe's grip loosened slightly and he softened his grip, both of you turning your heads to the screen, and the moment you saw the little lump on the screen, you couldn't help but feel tears stinging in your eyes.
"look. that's our baby."
"shit..." rafe stared at the screen wide-eyed, letting out a low breath, "that's our baby."
just like on any average day on the island, the sun was shining, your skin radiating with warmth as you walked down the street, looking in through shop windows; it had been a few days since you'd first stepped outside, and it seemed like your arrival had become widespread news, and you didn't receive as many stares as you did before.
you arrived at rafe's door, bringing your hand up and pounding on the door before you could stop yourself and chicken out for the third time that week. you were a wreck, unable to sleep, to think about anything other than how much you knew you needed to talk to rafe.
you waited, tapping your foot against the ground and biting down on your lip, when finally, the door slowly started opening, a small smile forming on rafe's lips when he realized that it was you.
"hey baby," he chuckled softly, placing his hands on your waist, "you miss me so much you couldn't even text me to let you know you were coming?" he grinned.
"i have to talk to you." you pull away from his embrace, taking his hands off your waist, the blonde looking down at you with furrowed brows, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest, clearly alarmed by the slight frown on your lips.
"what's wrong?"
"i'm pregnant."
without even realizing it, you had stopped in front of a jewelry store, gazing inside at the things on display as you were going down memory lane inside your head. you let out a small chuckle, about to step back and continue walking, when your blood ran cold, the smile fading away from your face, feeling as if someone had stabbed you in the heart.
to anyone else, it would've just been the backs of two random people. but even without seeing his face, you could recognize the only man you'd ever loved no matter where you went.
his short-sleeved white collared shirt was tucked into his dark jeans, riding up slightly as he ran a hand through his hair, having grown out slightly since the last time you'd seen it, his signet ring on his middle finger.
you saw him let out a chuckle, and you could almost picture how it'd sound, his hand going to rest on the back of the person he was with.
a younger woman smiled up at him, and even just from her side profile, you could tell that she was gorgeous, her flaming hair flowing over her shoulders, the smile on her face genuine, matching his.
and when you saw what she was holding up and showing to him, the knife in your chest was twisted.
an engagement ring.
#🫀𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#drew starkey#outer banks fanfiction#rafe fanfiction#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe obx#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron obx#outer banks rafe#obx season 4#obx4#rafe cameron angst#angst#rafe x you#rafe fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#outer banks fic#rafe cameron fluff
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"lacy"
⭒"i see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear"⭒ Arcane characters when jealous {fem reader}
cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel
cw ☞ slight angst but they all have a happy ending, kissing, and the usual stuff (slightly pervy Jayce)
♞Vi♞
♞Making Vi jealous is a terrible game. She is about that action and absolutely loves to fight, nothing beats that flow of adrenaline as she chases someone down to bash their face in. I feel like she would also get a bit mean. Jealousy is a nasty thing, it bites, and she bites back harder. The pit it creates in her stomach tries to swallow her whole and sometimes she wants to bring you down with her
♞She doesn't understand why you would want or need the attention of anyone else when you have her. Chiefly at the beginning of your relationship, it would cause a rift, intention or not. Vi doesn't have a proper education, she’s constantly guilt ridden about her childhood and her sister, she's broke, and an absolute hot mess. She's already constantly questioning why you're with her in the first place and the last thing she needs is some random coming up and flirting with you and you even bothering to dignify their presence with a response.
♞She would go dead silent, brushing you off for what feels like weeks, stewing in her increasingly negative thoughts. She doesn't even think you're cheating, but she feels like it's only a moment of time before you realize there's something better out there. Always the one to make the wrong decision, she pushes you away for a bit. She's very short with you, brushing off your attempts to make peace, playing a mean game to see if you're gonna give up on her so she can use it against you. This is definitely her biggest red flag.
It's dark and rainy out, rain pelting at the ground, seeping and sliding into its cracks to rehydrate the already soft foundation. It was supposed to be a calm night out at the Last Drop involving a few drinks to get Vi out of her current terrible mood, bookended by an unstable walk home as you both barely support each other under your weight and constant fit of giggles. Instead, Vi was a few paces ahead of you, hands shoved into her pockets, her head down rather than putting her hood up to keep her head dry from the rain. Every time you approach her, she slightly leans away. At first you thought it was an accident, maybe she was trying to avoid stepping on a rock or into a puddle, but after the umpteenth time it happens, the message becomes clear. She's avoiding you. As argumentative as she is, you may even be worse. "What the fuck is your, problem?", you bark, the alcohol in your veins curving the embarrassment of passersby clearly tuning into the argument they think is about to break out. "You've said some choice things and have been awfully rude these past few days, and I really don't appreciate it, Violet." But she doesn't have it in her to make a big scene. It's definitely the alcohol, because she's genuinely scared that if she starts a screaming match with you right now, she'll cry. She turns to you swiftly, hair dripping wet, stray dye rolling down her cheeks and down the slope of her nose. You had just dyed it together a few days ago, back before she decided to be mad at you for who knows what reason. "Look at me", she grabs your chin before you even get the chance to break eye contact with her. Petty, pissed, and unable to jerk your face out of her grip without giving yourself whiplash, you close your eyes. This pisses her off even more. "What, you don't have any more charity work left in you? You can giggle with what-his-face for hours, but you can't even look at your girlfriend?" That gets you to open your eyes, at first confused as to what the hell she was talking about then glittering with amusement that causes her to immediately let go and continue her fast paced walk back home. She isn't far enough to escape your light voice, cheery with the realization that you finally broke her down and occupied with what you think is the silliest thing in the world. "Oh, my gods, you're jealous about that guy from last night! Vi, you're so ridiculous, I don't even remember his name." And she is still teeming with anger, but that anger will dissipate soon after that last admission. Once you sober up, you don't find it as funny, but she's at your every beck and call trying to convince you it won't happen again.
♞After a little while together, she feels more stable in the relationship. Trust, she still gets jealous, but it usually looks like a smirk on her face before she pulls you into a heated kiss in front of whoever is bothering her. She makes a real show of it too, prying open your mouth to slip her tongue inside, her hands squeezing your sides and hiking up your dress, knee pressed firmly in between your legs. She continues long after the person leaves, before shrugging and sarcastically wondering where they possibly could've gone off to. You often scold her for this. You've never been to jail, and you'd hate to go for a public indecency charge.
★Ekko★
★Ekko doesn't really get jealous, like out of everyone I think he would get the least jealous so most of this section would be about his complete lack of jealousy. He doesn't believe in getting into relationships without trust first and it's because of this confident trust that he wouldn't get jealous. If anything, he wouldn't be jealous as in feeling like your relationship was in danger but jealous when it comes to your time. Like he would get slightly pouty if he felt like you were spending too much time with your friends, and it was significantly cutting out of your time together. Even then, he wouldn't really act on it.
★Ekko would be a "I don't care what my girlfriend wears, I can fight" kinda guy. Especially because he likes picking out your outfits, he does it with the intention of showing off the goods. He likes looking at you, he knows the world likes looking at you, he sees it as doing a favor to society. He is the first to tell you your tits look scrumptious in that top.
★Same concept with you being approached or flirted with. If they have the gall to do it in his direct presence, he has a great many words to say about it, but if he's watching it go down, he likes to watch it happen. He'll get involved as soon as he gets the feeling you are uncomfortable, but for the most part he sits amused a few feet away laughing at the glances you give him as the conversation goes on.
★I feel like if anyone was to get jealous, it would be you. Ekko spends a lot of time with a lot of different people which leaves space for certain people to not know that he's spoken for. I think he would be less aware of this than you. You are always at the forefront of his mind; he cannot fathom giving his attention to other people. Especially because he talks about you so often, he makes it quite clear that he is not single and when people choose to ignore that fact, he doesn't notice.
Warm light flitters into your shared room through half open blinds that reveal the orange and yellow that the blue sky had faded into. Ekko had just gotten home eager to strip down into some old, tattered tee shirt and some boxer shirts. Instead, he was met with a slightly agitated girlfriend, and he notices this immediately. He gives you space at first, greeting you at the door and asking you how you were and listening to your expectedly short answer. He only lasts a few minutes of this passive aggression before sliding beside you on the couch, sliding his arm around you and pulling you in close. You reluctantly lean in, trying to ignore how inviting he smells and how warm he feels. "Baby," he draws out, scooping you completely into his arms to straddling your thighs over his waist, his large palms remaining on your upper thigh. He's trying to whittle down your resolve and it is working. "Don't you wanna tell me what's wrong?" You rolled your eyes. "I've already told you what's wrong." He thinks it's cute that you're jealous. He likes the way your arms cross over your puffed chest, and you furrow your brow to try and appear serious but all you look like to him is a rabbit about to thump its foot. "And I have already told you, I am completely yours." It's cheesy and he knows it and he amps it up by scattering kiss all over your face, even as you try to evade his touch. "I don't doubt that, it's just..." He derails your sentences as his kisses move lower and his hands get more adventurous, exploring your upper thigh and the curve of your ass and the small of your back from underneath your shirt. "Hey!", you snap, "I'm being serious, Ekko." He pauses, withdrawing his hands to the fat of your hips and, reluctantly, his lips from your neck. "I'm listening, baby." "I've told you I don't know how many times that I do not like that girl. She is all over you." His mouth opens to try and protest, but you cut him off. "I can literally smell her perfume on you." He gets slightly defensive at this. "You don't think I'm cheating on you, do you?" A look of hurt flashes across his eyes. "Of course, I don't, Ekko. I'm not questioning you; I'm questioning her. I know she knows we're together and she just doesn't care, and you don't shut it down. Why else do you think she kept you out this late? What were you two doing?" Nothing. A whole lot of nothing, actually. The girl you were referring to, Thalara, had been a topic of conversation before. She was new to the commune, which landed her the benefit of the doubt with you, but it's been months now and she still hasn't laid off. Ekko, ever trusting of his people, never assumed malintent, but you saw right through her. You cup his head in between your hands, looking him in his eyes to make sure that the message is clear. "I love you, and I'm not mad at you, but she's pissing me off. You need to make it very clear that she needs to leave you alone or I will send the message for you." And you meant that. He makes it very clear to her the next day that he has absolutely no interest and comes back to you the next day beaming in accomplishment.
★Jealous you turns him on so incredibly much. Whatever you say goes, he is not one to turn you down when you're in a jealous mood.
❂Jayce❂
❂I feel like you would both get jealous, but he would get far more jealous than you do. While he is far from someone who would tell you to change what you're wearing, he does try and tag along with you when you're wearing something low cut. Like babe, what do you mean you don't want him to join girls night? Are you sure you're not cold?? You must be cold; your ass is hanging out, why won't you take his jacket?? Please take his jacket!!! Because of this he walks behind you, making it much harder for those undeserving to stare at you like he does.
❂While he loves showing you off at fancy events, ain't shit funny if you look too good. If you're lucky enough to make it out the house on time (he insists on helping you zip up but then gets confused which way zippers go), being there is a struggle. He likes staring at you and did not have the forethought to think other people would enjoy staring at you too. Let someone make a comment too, he is glued to your hip for the rest of the night.
He waits anxiously for the stupid gala to be over. Had he been more of a drinker, he would've been content to have a few glasses of the fancy champagne they brought around, but he hates the ethanol aftertaste it leaves behind and that is the last thing he needed after already feeling nauseous. He was trying so hard for you, he knew he had to give you your space, and he knew you were excited to go out to his Hextech showcase to show your support. He's being bitter and he hates it, he hates biting his tongue while watching you giggle with a councilman and the fact that he feels like a petulant child watching some other kid play with his toy He's been getting better with his jealousy, honest! That's why he's self-aware enough to know that his urge to go after you, sling you over his shoulder, and carry you home himself is childsh and silly and that you would chastise him over it as he looked at you like a kicked puppy. Gods, this was stupid. But he puts a smile on his face anyway, making his way over to you from the balcony he was just standing on, and sliding his hand on your shoulder. You look over at him, startled for a second, but relax when you see his amber eyes and slightly gapped smile. And then you say the magic words. "Oh, I was just about to go looking for you. Are you ready to go?" He cannot say yes fast enough. After he has you all to himself, he is insatiable, kissing you deeply as soon as you step foot in the carriage taking you home, losing balance and nearly sending you both toppling onto the floor of the moving vehicle. The seats are awkward and not long enough to properly lay you down, but he's too desperate to care about the discomfort, his hand cradling the back of your neck to make sure you are as comfortable as you can be. He's ruthless, the force of his kisses knocking the breath out of you and you can never catch up. You're almost dizzy, his desperate whispers nearly going through one ear and out the other. "You love me, right? Me and only me? You don't need anyone else.", and he's trying to find your zipper again, but his hands are clumsy and cold, and it only serves to arch your back further into him, not that he's complaining. When you do come to your senses, you giggle, running your nails through his hair as he looks up at you with wide eyes. "How long have you been holding that in." He looks at you sheepishly, fighting the urge to hide his embarrassment in the crook of your neck. "All night." You shake your head at his ridiculousness, pulling him in for a slower kiss, properly savoring the moment, before pulled away to peck his nose. "You are the only one for me, handsome, I don't know how many times I have to say it." He shrugs his broad shoulders. "A few more times wouldn't hurt." You roll your eyes and ask if he wants a collar, and he does not look as adverse as you expected.
❂He is so incredibly unhinged when it comes to jealousy. He doesn't act on it, but his mind goes to wild places. In a modern AU, if you dare not reply to a text in ten minutes he's asking, "What position he got you in?" Even worse, he knows he's being senseless, it's his way of asking for reassurance in a joking way. It's so absurd, you don't take him seriously which slightly frustrates him because he wants you to reaffirm him on what he already knows.
❂He gets really pouty when jealous too. He'll usually try and thrust himself into his work to occupy his mind and get it back to a rational place. Viktor calls you immediately because he ends up talking to him about it and he thinks the entire ordeal is unreasonable and doesn't have time to be asked at the ass crack of dawn "I know she loves me, but what if (insert insane scenario here)." He is a chronic overthinker and sometimes you just have to shut his brain off.
☽Viktor☾
☽Viktor is another one who doesn't get super jealous, but when he does, it usually stems from insecurities surrounding his leg. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes, especially as his condition gets worse, he gets frustrated that he can't do the things as easy as he used to be able to. However, he is entirely too proud to admit it or act on it. You probably wouldn't even notice, to be honest, and he wouldn't want you to.
☽I think he would absolutely throw himself into work when jealous. He's already at the lab damn near day and night, but unlike usual when he'll try for conversation here and there and be more lively, he's throwing himself into it out of necessity. It is one of his pride and joys, when his ego takes a hit, work is his refuge. This, of course, hardly ever works because he does not get good work done when it's being forced. He'll usually end up staring at the photo he keeps of you at your desk and feel lonely.
☽He'll invite you around to his lab more, though he is uncharacteristically stiff and rigid. He's trying too hard to focus but he just can't. His leg is tapping furiously beneath the table, he's biting the inside of his cheek, his hand is running through his hair every couple minutes. Things just aren't computing like how he wants them to and he hates it. His pride is a double-edged sword here, jealously is Jayce's thing. He thinks he is leagues above it and he gets frustrated with himself when he feels that green sickness in his heart.
☽He would be the type to address it head on. Once again, he's very analytical. He will tell you what exactly got him upset, why exactly it upset him, be very clear that he isn't blaming or upset at you, and silently hope you go overboard with affection for the next few weeks for the sake of his ego. After he does, he likes to ignore it even happened. Him? Jealous? You must have him confused with another ridiculously attractive, impaired, Czech-accented man. Jealous isn't even in his very extensive vocabulary, he has no idea when or why you dreamed of this completely fictitious scenario. He wouldn't try and gaslight you that it never happened, but he is petty enough to get selective hearing when it comes to mentions of it
For the first time since...ever, Viktor is home before the sun goes down. To say it catches you off guard is an understatement, so unused to the doorknob jiggling before the wee hours of the morning, you had a knife in your hand before you heard his keys in the door. You had been making dinner, and the smell alone makes his heart skip a beat. He hardly ever gets a warm dinner and for a minute, he deeply regrets being in his lab all the time. He slides off his shoes and loosens his tie as he pads over to you in the kitchen, wrapping one hand around your waist and the other gripping the counter for support. "You're home early.", you chirp, turning around to face him to peck his lips. "I was just making dinner, you want a taste?" Though he would never say no to that, you already have the spoon to his lips with a hand under to catch anything that might fall before he can even answer. He indulges, of course, and as the warm liquid soothes his throat, he hates that lab even more. Soup is one thing; but warm soup is to die for. "It's delicious, tchotchke." You smile as you turn back around. "Any reason you're home so early." He looks back the new ceiling fan you called Jayce over to put up and lets out a sardonic chuckle. He understands why you called him; he'd need to get on a ladder to put it up and have to abandon his cane for however long it took to hold the thing up and take care of the wiring. He wouldn't be able to balance himself and if he came down, the fan was coming down with him, probably on top of him. And yet, he still would've rather done it himself than you call Jayce to do it. "Yes, but it's admittedly a very stupid reason." You cannot fathom this. You remove the pot from the stove and onto a folded cloth on your counter and desert the stove. "Did something happen?" And he can't handle the look of concern on your face over something he knows to be trivial. "It's just that..." when he realizes he can't put it off any longer, he sighs. "I got jealous of Jayce." Had it not been for the serious look on your face, you would've burst into laughter. Those words had never fallen out of his mouth in that order before. "I know it's absurd, but it started when he put the fan up and it bothered me more than it should. I don't like that there are some things I can't do around the house, and it's been this way my whole life, but it's different with him. He's just always "the guy" and I hate the thought of him being "the guy" to you. It's irrational and a leap in logic, I know, but I hate it." And even better than pity, you just smile at him. In a way it's better that you want to laugh at him, he wants to laugh at him too. The thought of Jayce replacing him is maybe even more of an impossibility for you than it is for him. "So, next time I should just call a guy." He chuckles. "Yes, please."
☼Mel☼
☼I feel like she would be very calm about her jealousy, but also have a slight inclination to anger, albeit a silent one. She doesn't fear the betrayal of a potential cheating, but rather the embarrassment. If she were to see you get too chummy with someone, rather than approach you, she would watch from afar to see what you'd do. This is also a big reason why she usually doesn't take action herself; you never disappoint her when it comes to letting people know you're taken.
☼She is a bit clingier when jealous, but more than that she would insist on doing more couple things together. If she feels it is not known enough, she will make it known that the two of you are together. This often means gifts like expensive jewelry that only she could afford you, a new outfit that conveniently matches with one of hers, or even just letting you borrow bags or earrings of hers. It's her way of scenting you almost. She's too classy to try and "stake her claim" in a more showy way, so she does it in a more inconspicuous way.
Waking up alone wasn't something you were completely unused to. Mel was a very busy woman, and you were content with the nights you had together and rare mornings. These mornings were made extra bearable when you woke to a box on your nightstand, wrapped in a silk ribbon with a note in your girlfriend's handwriting slipped under the bow. 'From my heart, to my darling', it read, a lipstick mark beneath where she had signed her name with an elegant flick of her wrist. Perhaps just as eager to be opened as you were to open it, the ribbon fell loose as you gently picked up the box. It was too small to be a dress and too large to be a ring but large enough to contain maybe a fancy watch or a necklace, but judging by her unusually clingy demeanor last night, you had a feeling you could pretty accurately guess what was inside the ornate jewelry box. Unsurprisingly, within it lay a gold and pearl necklace, pearls that must’ve been rare due to their black hue rather than their usually pale pearlescent coloring. The chain felt light in your hand, the heaviest part sinking into your palm as you stared at. Your first initial and an M. No matter which way it was taken, the M to be her first name or her last, the possessive message was clear, not that you minded. Mels smile was bright when she saw you for the first time that day, and even brighter when she saw what decorated your neck. She excused herself from the councilmember she was talking to before walking over to you, practically gliding on air. She takes your hand, kissing the inside of your wrist then your knuckles then pulls you by your hand into her. "I take it you're enjoying your gift?" Your hand still in hers, she spins you, taking you in at all angles for the first time that day. "It's beautiful, but I can't help but wonder what inspired the decision." She knows you know exactly how she works, and she doesn't mind admitting she's jealous. "Am I wrong to give my pretty girl a gift?", she says, mocking the comment you received last night. She rolls her eyes and her face gives away her impending rant. "Am I wrong to give a pretty girl a compliment? I still can't believe he said that to you last night. He only did it to piss me off, you know." You bite your lip to hide your laughter, but it eventually slips from you. "I hope I'm more entertaining than Salo was last night." She can't even feign annoyance, not with the sound of your laughter filling her ears and her name around your neck. She laughs herself, with how much the two of you talk shit about the man, you'd think anything he did could never affect her, but she had been biting her tongue since last night. "Shall I list to you all the ways you're better than Salo?" She waves the idea off nonchalantly. "No, my darling, I should hope I never need an ego boost that desperately."
☼You would definitely get jealous far more often than she does. She's gorgeous, smart, well spoken, rich and affluent, and perfection embodied in a person, there is much to be jealous of. Especially as someone who is on the council where part of the job is being great at sweet talk, I feel like you would get your feelings hurt sometimes. You catch more flies with honey, and she may be the sweetest honey there is. She does tease you for your jealousy though, she finds it utterly adorable.
☼She wouldn't allow you to be jealous long. She is very good at reading you and your emotions, she seems to always know exactly how you're feeling. You couldn't even hide it from her if you tried, she'll always find a way to corner you and help you talk your feelings through. She tries very hard to make sure that you can never question who she loves the most.
#arcane#arcane fanfic#arcane x reader#arcane x you#ekko arcane#ekko x reader#jayce arcane#jayce x reader#mel arcane#mel x reader#viktor arcane#viktor x reader#vi arcane#vi x reader#arcane headcanon
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Cry For Me
Pairing: DomCEO!Hongjoong x SubSecretary!Reader
Genre: Smut 18+, slight angst, PWP, Office!AU
Notes: Cheating (don’t do it yall. this is just fiction), Unprotected sex (wrap it up!!! do not try this irl, it is pure fantasy!), explicit language, dacryphilia kink, humiliation, degrading, power fixation, Hongjoong lowkey manipulates (but for the better ig lol)
Word Count: 13k (condensed some ideas to bring down the word count LOL)
Authors note: This is pure horny imagination and in NO WAY, reflects on the characters in real life! If you do not like this type of content pls ignore or block me.
Pt. 2 | Pt. 3
———————————————————————
As you stepped into your apartment, the night sky cast a deep blue glow through the windows, shimmering like a vast ocean. The warm glow of the sensor lights flickered on, illuminating the entryway and casting soft shadows on the walls. You paused for a moment, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips, echoing in the stillness of the room.
It was the fifth time this month that your boyfriend had canceled on you, and each time felt like another nail in the coffin of what once seemed like a blossoming romance. The disappointment settled heavily in your chest, making each step toward the kitchen feel more burdensome than the last.
With a determined resolve, you made your way to the fridge, the familiar chill greeting you as you opened the door. Your fingers closed around a half-filled bottle of wine, the label slightly crumpled from the many times it had been hastily put back. You pulled it out, and reached for a glass. You stare blankly as you poured the wine, watching as the dark liquid rose to the rim, glistening in the soft light. Without hesitation, you brought it to your lips, taking a few deep gulps, each swallow both comforting and numbing. As the warmth spread through you, tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, a familiar sensation that you had tried so hard to push away.
The memories of the past 2 years flooded back—Siwoo’s laughter, the shared moments that now felt like distant echoes. But lately, he had become a stranger, his warmth replaced by an impenetrable distance. You had tried to reach out, to bridge the growing gap, but each time ended in disappointment. Now, standing in your quiet apartment, you felt a profound sense of loss that had settled deep within you, leaving you feeling numb, as if you were merely going through the motions of life without truly living it.
You quickly wiped your tears away, the salty tracks on your cheeks feeling foreign yet familiar. With each brush of your fingers, the sadness that had threatened to overwhelm you twisted into something sharper—anger.
*Ding.*
The sudden sound pulled your attention away from your thoughts. You turned your head toward your phone, its screen lighting up with a notification. The sight of Siwoo's name, accompanied by a little heart, made your heart sink further.
Siwoo <3: I’m sorry I cancelled again. Please don’t hate me. I’ll see you on your lunch tomorrow.
You stared at the message, the words blurring momentarily as your vision wavered. Another empty promise. With a shaky hand, you raised your glass to your lips, the bitter taste of the wine filling your mouth as you took another long gulp. It was a poor substitute for the warmth you once felt from Siwoo's presence.
You couldn't bring yourself to respond—not now. You needed a few moments to gather your swirling emotions, to avoid lashing out with the hurt and anger that simmered just beneath the surface. The silence of the apartment enveloped you, amplifying your racing thoughts and making the weight of his message all the more suffocating.
Once you finished the rest of the wine bottle, you felt the tension in your shoulders ease just a fraction. You turned away from your phone, not wanting to see another message or another reminder of the chasm that seemed to grow between you. With heavy steps, you made your way to the bedroom.
You plopped down onto the bed, the soft sheets cradling you in their embrace. As your body sank into the mattress, fatigue overtook you, pulling you into a deep slumber. In the quiet darkness, you hoped for dreams that could somehow soothe the ache in your heart, if only for a little while.
———
The next day dawned with a muted light filtering through the curtains, the world outside still waking up. You rolled over, disoriented for a moment, before the reality of the day ahead crashed over you. With a groan, you pushed yourself up, the remnants of last night’s indulgence weighing heavily in your mind.
As you shuffled to the bathroom, the headache from downing that last glass of wine throbbed at your temples, a persistent reminder of your restless night. You cursed under your breath, regretting the decision to finish the bottle in a moment of vulnerability.
You quickly went through the motions of your morning routine. Your job as the secretary for one of the most well-known CEOs in the Creative Arts Institution required precision and poise, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil that had kept you up late. You dressed in a tailored blouse and a pencil skirt, the fabric smoothing against your skin as you adjusted the collar. The mirror reflected a professional exterior, yet you felt anything but composed inside.
After applying a touch of makeup to mask the fatigue in your eyes, you gathered your things—laptop, planner, and the ever-essential cup of coffee that awaited you in the kitchen.
———
As you step into the tall building, the morning sun filters through the glass façade, casting geometric shadows across the polished marble lobby. The familiar bustle of your colleagues greets you, their voices merging with the gentle hum of fluorescent lights. You nod and smile as you greet in response. You make your way to the elevator, its silver doors glinting in the light. Pressing the button for the top floor, you mentally prepare for the day ahead, trying not to show your exhausted emotions, mentally and physically. When the doors slide open, you step into the expansive hallway lined with art. At the end of the corridor, you enter the grand office door. You walk to the enormous desk adorned with a gold plaque that reads “CEO Kim Hongjoong” and set down the iced Americano you picked up on your way in. You reach into your tote bag and retrieve a neatly organized file folder. Flipping it open, you scan through today’s itinerary, noting the key meetings and tasks that lie ahead. Once satisfied with your briefing, you close the folder and return it to your bag. You head to the front desk positioned just outside the CEO's office, and begin your morning tasks. Every day in the office has settled into a rhythm, a familiar routine that feels almost automatic.
“Good morning, Mr. Kim!” “Hello, Mr. Kim!” The greetings echo as your colleagues bow slightly, their respect palpable.
You rise from your chair, straightening your blouse, and offer a nonchalant nod, masking the exhaustion lingering just beneath the surface.
“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” you say as you bow, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Hongjoong approaches, his expression warm yet focused.
“Hello, Y/N. Have you prepared everything for today’s schedule?” he asks, moving past you toward his office.
“Yes, you have a meeting in an hour with a client…” you begin to relay the itinerary, following him inside. He settles into his chair, taking a sip of the Americano and nods in response.
“Also, I dealt with the complaints from the last exhibition. Everything’s been taken care of, just like you wanted,” you add, your tone casual, though the weight of your own issues tugs at your thoughts. Hongjoong looks up, a smile breaking across his face.
“That’s why I have you as my secretary, Miss Y/N. Thank you so much.”
You nod, the compliment momentarily brightening your mood, but it’s fleeting. You bow again before slipping out of the office. As the door closes behind you, you take a deep breath, pushing the worries from your relationship to the back of your mind, ready to tackle the day ahead with practiced indifference.
Throughout the morning, you flit in and out of meetings, accompanying Hongjoong as he navigates a flurry of tasks. The office is a hive of activity, and you move seamlessly between conversations, taking notes and organizing files, but the weight of your personal life hangs heavy in the back of your mind.
You glance at the clock on your desk: just thirty minutes until your hour break. A sigh escapes your lips, and you reach for your phone, hesitating. Siwoo’s message sits unread, a lingering question mark in your thoughts. You know you should respond, but the uncertainty of his invitation makes you hesitate. Is it pettiness that keeps you from reaching out, or a defense mechanism to shield your heart from further pain? You shake off the intrusive thoughts, forcing yourself to focus on the tasks at hand.
*Ding.* Your phone buzzes, drawing your attention. It’s another message from Siwoo.
Siwoo <3: I won’t be able to make it today. Something came up at work. Sorry.
You scoff under your breath, a bitter taste filling your mouth. His absence stings, but you’ve braced yourself for this—after all, it’s become a pattern.
Just then, Hongjoong’s voice crackles through the telephone intercom on your desk, interrupting your spiraling thoughts. “Miss Y/N, please come to my office.”
“Yes, sir,” you reply, rising from your seat with a practiced smile as you make your way into his office.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Kim?” you ask, your tone polite, carefully masking the frustration beneath the surface from Siwoo’s message.
Hongjoong leans back in his chair, his expression serious.
“I know you have your hour break in twenty minutes, but I just got off the phone with a potential client. They want to meet over lunch in a few minutes, and I need you to tag along to take notes. If you can wait on your break for another hour, I’ll cover your meal if you accompany me now.”
His words feel more like an instruction than a request, and you nod in response, pushing your personal frustrations aside.
“Of course, sir. Shall I call the chauffeur now?”
“No need,” he replies, grabbing his briefcase. “We’ll take my vehicle. I’ll drive.”
You nod and follow Hongjoong out of the building.
You settled into the passenger seat next to Hongjoong, the sleek interior of the car enveloping you. The rhythmic clicking of the turn signal punctuated the silence, while the soft murmur of the news on the radio served as a gentle backdrop.
“Miss Y/N, is everything alright?” Hongjoong's voice cut through the quiet, steady and attentive. You turned to him, slightly taken aback by his directness.
“Y-Yes, sir. What makes you concerned?” you replied, a hint of surprise coloring your voice. His eyes remained fixed on the road, focused yet perceptive.
“My top employee—my secretary—has been unusually quiet lately. You seem a bit off,” he remarked, expertly navigating the car into a parking lot. His concern was genuine, and you felt a flutter of warmth at his attention.
“I apologize if I gave that impression today, sir. I assure you, I’m alright,” you replied, straightening in your seat, trying to project confidence. Hongjoong parked the car and turned to face you, his expression serious.
“Y/N, I’m not just talking about today. You’ve been like this for a few days now. I don’t want to pry, but if something is bothering you, please let me know. You never slack off—well, not that I’ve noticed—but you’re a vital part of our team. If you’re not at your best, it affects us all, especially me. Let’s tackle any issues together, professionally.” His words carried a weight of understanding that took you by surprise.
You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal.
“I… I apologize, sir. It’s just some personal issues in my relationship. I promise I won’t let it interfere with my work,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap. You feared that honesty might blur the lines of your professional relationship.
Hongjoong regarded you with a thoughtful expression, his brow slightly furrowing. “Problems in your relationship?” he asked gently. You nodded, keeping your head bowed.
“Yes. I appreciate you asking,” you replied, feeling a rush of gratitude mixed with apprehension.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said, his tone shifting back to his usual professional demeanor. “Let’s get to work.”
The next hour unfolded at a high-end restaurant, its luxurious ambiance creating the perfect setting for a business meeting. You sat next to Hongjoong, across from two potential clients, the atmosphere charged with opportunity. As they discussed plans for an upcoming exhibition, you diligently took notes, your mind sharpening as you transitioned into your role.
Hongjoong exuded charisma, ordering champagne and an array of exquisite appetizers while skillfully guiding the conversation. You admired the way he balanced authority with approachability, creating an atmosphere of collaboration.
———
As promised, Hongjoong granted you your hour break once you both returned to the office. The day had been packed with meetings and conversations, but you had already eaten at the restaurant, so instead of lingering in the bustling atmosphere of the office, you decided to find solace on the rooftop.
Ascending to the rooftop, you pushed open the heavy door, the cool air hitting your face like a refreshing wave. You walked over to one of the bistro tables, the metal surface gleaming under the midday sun. You sank into one of the chairs, letting out a deep sigh that released the pent-up stress from the morning. In your left hand, you cradled an iced Americano to keep you alert. In your right, you held your phone, its screen illuminating your face as you contemplated the text messages from Siwoo.
He should be off work by now, you thought, scrolling through the thread of messages. You hesitated, biting your lip, unsure of how to approach him. The uncertainty had lingered in your mind for days, and it felt like a weight on your chest. After a moment’s deliberation, you resolved to take initiative and give him a call.
You tapped his name, and set the phone on speaker. As the phone rang, the sound echoed in the serene space around you. It rang for what felt like an eternity until finally, you heard his voice on the other end, slightly breathless.
“H-hello? Y/N?” Siwoo stuttered, his tone hesitant.
“Siwoo, what are you doing?” you asked, trying to sound calm, though your heart raced with anticipation.
“Mmm, n-nothing much, just working out. I-I went to the gym after work,” he replied, punctuating his words with a grunt that surprised you. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Since when did he ever work out?
You decided to push forward, hoping to reconnect. “Do you want to come over tonight? I’ll make dinner,” you offered, softening your voice as if trying to coax him back into your world.
“A-ahh, probably not tonight. I have to finish some work at h-home,” he stuttered again, his voice strained, as though he were struggling for breath.
Disappointment settled in your stomach, but you pressed on. “I can come over then, yeah? I’ll make you your favorite dish?” You mentally kicked yourself for even suggesting it, a flicker of doubt reminding you of all the times he had flaked out before.
“N-no, Y/N. I-It’s okay. A-ahh!” Siwoo grunted loudly, and a chill ran through you at the sound.
“Siwoo, what’s going on?!” You raised your voice slightly, urgency creeping in.
“I told you, Y/N. I’m working out. We can’t see each other tonight; I’m busy. I have to go,” he snapped, the finality in his tone cutting through the air like a knife. The line went dead, leaving you with only the echo of his voice. Your heart sank, a familiar ache running within you.
You stared at the phone in disbelief, the cool metal suddenly feeling heavy in your hand. How could he do this again? A mix of frustration and sadness swirled in your chest, and you felt a lump form in your throat. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it did little to quell the rising tide of emotions.
——
You glance at the small digits on your screen, the glowing numbers reading 8:00 PM. Your shift officially ended thirty minutes ago, but here you sat, a blend of dedication and denial keeping you tethered to your desk. Guilt washed over you, a stark reminder of Hongjoong’s earlier words. There was no point in heading home, not when the weight of unfinished tasks bore down on you. The quiet of your apartment would only invite sorrow, while the office, though nearly deserted, offered a comforting distraction.
The atmosphere had shifted; the energy of the day had given way to silence as colleagues trickled out, exchanging soft goodbyes. Each farewell came with a gentle reminder not to work too hard, and you managed a smile, masking the turmoil brewing inside you. Once they departed, you returned your focus to the glowing screen, rifling through files and diligently noting necessary information, your fingers a blur over the keyboard.
A flicker of light caught your eye—a warm streaming light from Hongjoong’s office. You raised an eyebrow in curiosity; you’d assumed he had left an hour ago. Shaking off the thoughts that threatened to wander, you turned back to your work.
“Y/N?” Hongjoong’s voice broke through your concentration. You looked up at him through your rectangular glasses that rested on your face. He cut an impressive figure, dressed in a fitted black dress shirt and a black vest that accentuated his shoulders.(What the fuck Y/N; he’s your boss.) You mentally scolded yourself, attempting to dismiss any inappropriate thoughts.
“O-Oh, yes sir?” you replied, setting your pen down on the desk.
“Your shift ended an hour ago. Why are you still here?” His brow arched in genuine curiosity, his tone both commanding and concerned.
“I’m just catching up on some work, sir. I apologize. I’ll be heading home soon,” you replied, striving for composure even as nerves danced in your stomach.
“Y/N, come to my office,” he said, his calm demeanor masking the authority in his request. You hesitated, uncertainty creeping in. Why did he want to speak in private, especially when the office was nearly empty?
Despite your reservations, you take off your glasses frames, place them on your desk and follow him into his office. The door clicking shut behind you, a sound that felt like a declaration. The dim light cast long shadows, enveloping the room. He sits at the edge of his desk with his arms crossed.
“What’s going on in your relationship?” Hongjoong asked, his tone direct yet oddly informal. The question hung in the air, leaving you momentarily stunned. Your eyes widened, and you felt a flush creeping up your neck.
“Sir, I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about personal matters at work…” you managed to reply, your fingers fidgeting nervously as you avoided his gaze.
“It’s after work hours, Y/N. You can speak comfortably,” he said, his voice calm and soothing, yet imbued with a sharpness that conveyed he was not one to be easily dismissed. “I can tell something is wrong.”
You hesitated, the weight of his gaze making it difficult to formulate a response. A swirl of emotions crashed over you—fear of crossing professional boundaries mixed with the realization that perhaps he genuinely wanted to connect with you on a deeper level. Colleagues had often joked about how you and Hongjoong were like a married couple at work, a notion you had always brushed aside. The title felt cliché, almost childish, and you had preferred to maintain a strictly professional atmosphere.
But as you looked at him, a flicker of understanding passed between you. Maybe he wasn’t just playing the role of the CEO tonight. Perhaps he truly wanted to understand what you were going through. You took a deep breath, your heart racing as you considered opening up.
“We have… just been distant lately,” you say hesitantly, the words slipping out with reluctance. “Our schedules don’t seem to be aligning, and our communication is off. That is all, sir.” You glance at him, searching for a response.
He hums thoughtfully, nodding in acknowledgment. “Shall I… cut your hours? Maybe find a second secretary to fill in while you get to spend more time with your significant other?” His voice carried a teasing lilt, yet there was an undercurrent of seriousness that sent a rush of heat to your cheeks.
“N-no, sir!” The words escaped your lips almost too hastily, an instinctive reaction that made you feel slightly embarrassed. Hongjoong chuckled, his head lowering momentarily before he lifted it again, locking eyes with you.
“So, is it his schedule that’s not cooperating with yours?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You nodded in silence, the weight of your emotions pressing down as you considered the truth behind your answer.
“Mm… interesting.” Hongjoong tapped his chin thoughtfully, the wheels of his mind clearly turning. Curiosity prickled at you; what was going through his head? You couldn’t help but wonder about the direction this conversation was taking.
“Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking, what does your partner do for a living?” he asked, his tone calm and inviting.
“He’s a professor at the university located downtown,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing a secret.
“A professor?” Hongjoong mused, a hint of skepticism coloring his tone. “I doubt their schedules are that busy compared to yours—a full-time secretary for a well-known company.” He dropped his hands into his pockets, his gaze intent and probing.
“Are you sure you should be concerned about his schedule? Maybe… it’s something more?” Hongjoong added nonchalantly, his casual demeanor contrasting sharply with the seriousness of his implication.
You felt a wave of confusion wash over you. What was he suggesting? Your mind raced, trying to decipher his words. Was he implying that the distance in your relationship could be rooted in something deeper than just busy schedules? The thought unsettled you, but a part of you was intrigued by his concern. You hesitated, caught in a web of uncertainty as you considered how to respond.
“I—I’m not sure what you mean, sir…” you murmured, your gaze dropping to your black heels, the polished tips reflecting the dim light of the office.
“Come here, Y/N,” Hongjoong said, his voice a blend of softness and authority that sent a shiver down your spine. Almost instinctively, you found your feet moving toward him, the rhythmic click of your pumps echoing softly against the floor as you approached. You stopped just in front of his black loafers, your heart racing in your chest.
“Closer,” he instructed, his voice lowering, deepening with an intensity that made you catch your breath. You stepped forward, positioning yourself between his slightly parted legs, the air thick with unspoken tension.
His hand reached out, a gentle yet firm grasp settling on your waist. You gasped in shock, the unexpected warmth of his touch flooding through you. This is wrong, you thought, panic stirring within, but something deeper held you in place, a pull that made it difficult to consider pulling away. Instead, you stood there, caught in a moment that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.
“Maybe…” Hongjoong began, his thumb rubbing softly against the fabric of your blouse, the gentle motion both soothing and unsettling.
“your partner is being unfaithful…?” The words hung heavy in the air, a sentence that felt like a blade slicing through your gut.
A part of you recoiled at the thought, refusing to believe it. Yet, as you stood there, something nagged at you, a whisper of doubt that you couldn’t shake. The realization that he might be right crept in like a shadow, darkening your thoughts. Stupidly, your heart leaped to defend Siwoo, the man you cared for, even as uncertainty gnawed at you.
“Mr. Kim, I don’t appreciate you assuming that,” you replied quietly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stared between the gap of Hongjoong’s legs that revealed the floor, refusing to meet his gaze.
“You don’t know our relationship, so please do not accuse him of such acts…” you added, your tone a fragile mixture of firmness and vulnerability. As the words left your lips, you felt your eyes begin to well with tears, confusion and anger swirling within you. You trusted Siwoo; you had to. But the doubts Hongjoong had planted took root, and you didn’t understand why he was suddenly acting like this.
You wanted to leave, to escape the charged atmosphere and the unsettling intimacy of the moment, but your feet remained stuck to the floor. Deep down, beneath the rising tide of panic, you recognized that you craved the odd comfort Hongjoong provided, a warmth that felt so different from the turmoil in your heart.
Suddenly, a whimper escaped your lips, a sound that surprised you as tears began to cascade down your cheeks, dropping onto Hongjoong’s lap.
“Oh, baby…” Hongjoong cooed, his voice laced with a tenderness. You gasped at the sudden pet name. With a gentle yet deliberate movement, his unoccupied hand reached toward your face, lifting your chin slightly so that he could wipe away the tears that streamed relentlessly down. Your eyes however, still refusing to look at him. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and your heart raced at the intimacy of the moment.
“You defend him, yet you’re crying,” he observed, his voice low and soothing, but his words only added to the turmoil within you. It was as if he could see right through the facade you had tried to maintain. As his hand, previously resting on your waist, moved to the other side of your face, you felt the weight of his palms cupping your cheeks, an act of reassurance that both calmed and stirred your emotions.
“Look at me, Y/N” Hongjoong softly demands. Your pretty eyes look at him. Sparkling from the tears that are still streaming down your face slowly. Hongjoong bit his lip, fighting to maintain his composure, though he couldn’t help but think how fucken pretty you look when you cried… how vulnerable.
“I’m sorry for assuming,” he continued, his tone tender yet firm. “It was unprofessional of me. I was just trying to express my concerns.” His fingers brushed against your skin as he gently cupped your face, his thumbs softly stroking away the remnants of your tears. “I don’t want to see you cry anymore, okay?”
Confusion swirled within you, a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. What was Hongjoong doing? His touch sent conflicting signals through your mind, making it hard to decipher the intentions behind his kindness. You felt your heart race as he held your gaze, searching for answers that remained elusive.
“Let me take you home. It’s getting late.” He reluctantly withdrew his hands, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. Hongjoong lightly tapped your waist,
“Okay?” he asked again, his voice softening as he sought your approval. You nodded, your heart fluttering as you looked into his eyes, those doe-like orbs filled with an innocence that belied the complexities of your situation. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, each moment stretching out as you found solace in his presence, even amidst the confusion.
———
The car glided smoothly along the quiet streets, the only sounds breaking the stillness were the gentle notes floating from the radio and the rhythmic tapping of Hongjoong’s fingers on the steering wheel. Each beat resonated with the unspoken tension lingering between you, a subtle backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in your mind.
As the car pulled up in front of your apartment building, you felt a mix of relief and reluctance. The evening air was cool against your skin as you unbuckled your seatbelt and gathered your bags, the weight of the day still heavy on your shoulders.
“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Kim,” you said, bowing your head slightly, unable to meet his gaze. It was a gesture of politeness, but it felt more like a shield, protecting you from the warmth of his soft smile that you could sense even without looking.
“No worries, Miss Y/N. I’ll see you Monday,” he replied, his voice soft but filled with an unshakeable confidence. You heard the warmth in his tone, even as you turned away and walked towards the entrance of your apartment building, his farewell echoing in your ears.
The elevator ride felt interminable as you ascended to your floor, each ding of the buttons amplifying the heaviness in your chest. Finally, you stepped into your small apartment, the familiar space offering little comfort. You dragged your feet toward your room, exhaustion pulling you down, both physically and emotionally.
Once inside, you kicked off your heels, the sharp clack against the floor a welcome relief. You stripped off your clothes with a mindless haste, leaving only your undergarments as you collapsed onto your bed. The cool sheets enveloped you, but they couldn’t ease the confusion swirling in your thoughts.
With a deep, resigned sigh, you sank into the mattress, your mind replaying fragments of your conversation with Hongjoong.
In a moment of desperation, you reached for your phone, dialing Siwoo’s number. The ringing felt like an eternity, and when it went to voicemail, a knot tightened in your stomach. You glanced at the clock—10 PM. Another attempt led to the same unyielding voicemail. Frustration filled within you, mixing with a pang of anxiety that settled in your chest.
You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. The coolness of the room contrasted sharply with the heat of your thoughts. Slowly, memories of Hongjoong flooded your mind—his perfect figure leaning casually against the desk, his strong hand lingering on your arm, the gentle caress of his fingers against your face.
Your heart ached, not for Siwoo, but for Hongjoong. You suddenly craved his comforting and reassuring voice. His lingering touch on your skin. Your legs close together as you feel a wave of warmth between your thighs. Your hands moved down your soft skin, reaching towards your heat…
You gasp softly, shaking your head, trying to dismiss these feelings. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. You shouldn’t be thinking about him like this. Hongjoong is your Boss. And plus you have Siwoo. Your… loving boyfriend.
The weight of silence wraps around you like a thick fog, pressing down on your chest as you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. You can’t shake the feeling that these spiraling thoughts. In frustration you convince yourself that you’re probably just deprived of touch from your significant other.
With sudden resolve, you push yourself up from the tangled sheets, the cool air sending a shiver down your spine, and head towards the bathroom. Turning on the water, you let your thoughts drown in the hot water. Making your way back to your room, you slowly dry off and change into pajamas.
As your head hits the pillow, a sense of calm envelops you, pulling you into a deep slumber. The world outside fades, and for the first time in ages, you allow yourself to drift away, hoping that tomorrow will bring a spark of connection back into your life.
———
The first rays of sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft stripes across your home office. You’re working from home today, since Hongjoong isn’t in office on the weekends. You sat your desk with a steaming cup of coffee cradled in your hands, you let the aroma fill your senses, the rich, dark liquid fueling your focus as your fingers typing across the keyboard.
The rhythmic sound of your typing created a serene atmosphere until it was interrupted by a sharp buzz from the apartment door.
Setting your coffee down, you pushed back your chair and stood, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and dread as you approached the door. Taking a deep breath, you swung it open, and your heart dropped. Standing there, looking both sheepish and regretful, was Siwoo, clutching a bouquet of flowers.
“Y/N, honey, I’m so sorry for flaking out on you so many times,” he said with a fake pout.
A year ago, you would have melted at this display. You might have accepted his half-assed apology with a smile, the flowers a token of his remorse. But today, your mind raced with reminders of all the times he had done this before. The constant stand-ups, the empty promises, the fleeting moments of connection overshadowed by disappointment.
Your heart ached, not with the sweet pang of love but with the heavy weight of frustration. You stood there, staring at him, emotions swirling within you like a storm. Hurt and upset battled against the tenderness that still lingered for him. You could feel the walls you had carefully built in the past months tightening around you, whispering that this was a cycle you were tired of repeating.
But your heart, foolishly hopeful, betrayed you. Before you could think it through, you found yourself reaching for the bouquet, inhaling the sweet scent of fresh blooms. Then, without a second thought, you pulled him into a tight embrace. As his arms wrapped around you, the familiar warmth flooded back, and you felt your resolve waver.
In that moment, you wanted to believe that this time would be different. Yet beneath the surface, a deeper ache throbbed—a desperate question lingered in your mind: why do you keep doing this to me?
As the hours unfolded, Siwoo settled into a chair across from your desk, his laptop open and papers scattered around him. The familiar hum of shared work surrounded you, a scene that once brought you joy. He would glance up occasionally, flashing you a smile that was meant to soothe the tension in the air. Yet, despite the comforting proximity, your heart was locked in a battle against the memories of hurt he had inflicted upon you.
You tried to push those thoughts aside, forcing yourself to focus on the tasks at hand. Still, they lingered like unwelcome shadows, flitting in and out of your consciousness. Each time Siwoo laughed at something on his screen or leaned back with a satisfied sigh, a part of you wanted to bask in the moment, to let yourself feel the happiness he once brought. But the other part—a weary, wiser part—reminded you of the countless times he had let you down.
Your mind already flooded with so many issues, decided to remind you of last night’s conversation with Hongjoong—the way he spoke to you, his touch… The longing for deeper connections hung heavily on your mind, teasing you with confusion.
You caught Siwoo watching you, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice breaking through your reverie.
You forced a smile, nodding slightly. “Yeah, just thinking about work.”
———
Throughout the day, with Siwoo at your side, a disquieting realization settled in your chest: you felt less like his girlfriend and more like a maid. He moved to lounge in your living room, casually asking for snacks and drinks while you sat at your desk, trying to concentrate on your work. Each request chipped away at your patience, drawing a line between the intimate moments you once cherished and the mundane reality of this interaction.
Glancing over, you caught sight of him: relaxed, almost carefree, tapping away on his phone with a soft laugh escaping his lips. Maybe it was Hongjoong’s words playing tricks on you, but a knot twisted in your stomach as you watched Siwoo, feeling an unfamiliar ick wash over you. It felt as though he was taking advantage of your hospitality, oblivious to the growing frustration bubbling within you.
“Oh, Y/N, can I borrow some money?” Siwoo asked, his voice casual, his eyes glued to the screen as he continued to chuckle at whatever amused him.
“May I ask why?” You replied softly, a frown creasing your brow as confusion settled in.
“I need to buy new materials for work. It’s required for all professors, and I’m just short by a few bucks,” he explained, his gaze still firmly fixed on his phone.
You raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. “Doesn’t the university cover materials for professors?”
“Mmm, not this time. Please?” he said, finally looking up at you, his irritating smile brightening his face as if he expected you to fold under the charm.
Taking a deep breath, you felt the tension in your chest tighten, but you nodded anyway, wiring him a sum that was likely more than he needed. Maybe it was an act of guilt or an old habit of wanting to keep the peace.
“Thanks, honey. You’re the best!” he said, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. The grin on his face widened as he returned to his phone, engrossed once more in whatever had captured his attention.
“Y—you’re leaving so soon?” The words spilled out before you could stop them, a mix of desperation and disappointment. “I’m almost done with work. Let’s have dinner…”
He turned to you, his expression unchanged. “Maybe another day, Y/N. I have to head back to the campus.”
With that, he walked out without a backward glance, leaving you standing there, a swirl of emotions crashing against one another. As the door clicked shut, the weight of his absence pressed heavily on your heart, mingling with the irritation that had been building all day.
——
The weekend slipped away in a blur, its fleeting hours vanishing like sand through fingers. As you stepped into the office on Monday morning, you glanced around the workspace, filled with the scent of fresh coffee and the faint rustle of papers, and realized you wanted to be here. The thought of Hongjoong entered your mind unbidden. You couldn’t help but remember the conversations that had left you feeling confused but wanting more.
But you quickly pushed those thoughts aside, chastising yourself. This wasn’t the time for daydreams. You were his secretary, bound by professional decorum. It was crucial to maintain composure, to focus on your tasks and responsibilities. After all, any semblance of personal feelings could only complicate matters.
“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” you said, bowing slightly from your desk as he entered his office, and you follow behind him. The air felt charged with unspoken tension, a remnant of the incident that had unfolded just days prior, a moment you both seemed to ignore.
“Good morning, Miss Y/N,” Hongjoong replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he settled into his chair behind the desk. His eyes flickered momentarily to the iced Americano you had picked up for him earlier, the cool condensation glistening against the glass.
“What is the schedule for today?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, his posture relaxed, but you could sense the sharpness in his gaze as it remained fixed on you.
Clearing your throat, you began to relay the day’s itinerary, focusing intently on your notes. “We have the marketing meeting at ten, followed by the conference call with the investors at noon.” You spoke steadily, but your heart raced, memories of that night creeping back into your mind—a fleeting brush of his hands, the way his gaze had pierced through the façade of professionalism.
Hongjoong listened, nodding occasionally, but there was an air of distraction about him, too. He was acting as if nothing had happened, and you were determined to do the same, though it felt like walking a tightrope. You maintained your composure, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady and professional as you continued.
His expression remained neutral, but there was an undercurrent of something unspoken between you. You stole a glance at him, noting how the light caught the edges of his features, the way he effortlessly commanded the space around him.
“And finally,” you added, pushing the memories further down, “we have a team meeting at four to discuss the new project timeline.”
As you finished, a heavy silence settled in the room, punctuated only by the soft sound of his drink being set down on the desk. You met his gaze, feeling the weight of the unacknowledged moment hanging in the air. “Thank you, Y/N,” Hongjoong said, his voice smooth as he rose from his chair. The brief moment of gratitude hung in the air between you, creating a small, intimate space in an otherwise professional atmosphere. You bowed slightly in acknowledgment, the familiar gesture a part of your daily routine, before you turned on your heels, ready to leave the room.
“Wait a moment,” he called out just as you reached the door. You paused, your heart skipping a beat, then turned back to face him.
“Yes, sir?” you replied, your voice steady but your mind racing.
“How are you doing?” he asked, the question casual yet layered with an unexpected warmth. The simplicity of it took you aback, a small flicker of surprise igniting within you.
“I—I’m well, sir. Thank you for asking.” You stumbled over your words slightly, an involuntary shyness creeping in. “How about you?” You returned the question out of politeness.
“That’s good to hear, Y/N,” he replied, his soft smile breaking through the formalities and lighting up the room. “I’m doing fine as well.”
You nodded, the warmth of his expression lingering in the air as you took in the moment. “I’ll get back to my work then,” you said, turning once more to leave.
As you stepped out of his office, the door closing softly behind you, you made your way back to your desk, the echo of his words and that fleeting smile still resonating within you.
——
Once you stepped out of Hongjoong’s office, he sank back into his chair, the weight of the world settling on his shoulders as his thoughts turned inward, swirling around you. He couldn’t deny the fondness he felt. From the moment you had started working as his secretary, you had made it clear that you were in a serious relationship. He respected your loyalty, admired it even, but it didn’t erase the growing complexity of his own feelings for you.
As he gazed out the window, memories flooded back, particularly the recent lunch meeting on Friday. You had accompanied him at the last minute, and during the drive, when you admitted to him about your relationship struggles. The admission struck him deeply—he felt a flicker of triumph at your honesty, a selfish part of him celebrating. Yet, mingled with that spark was a simmering anger; the man you were with was clearly causing you distress.
After returning to the office, you took your promised hour break, and Hongjoong found himself drawn to the rooftop. He hadn’t intended to pry; he simply wanted to offer words of encouragement, to lift your spirits. But as he approached, he overheard your phone ring and the familiar cadence of your voice pick up the call. A sinking feeling took root in his stomach when he recognized the voice on the other end—Siwoo, your boyfriend.
He paused at the steel door, unable to resist the urge to listen. Siwoo’s breathless tone was unmistakable, the hurried speech revealing more than mere exertion from a workout. Hongjoong's heart raced as he deduced the truth— Any man would know, this was not the voice of a faithful partner. The realization struck him like a punch; this man had the audacity to take your call while clearly entangled in something inappropriate.
A rush of guilt washed over him as he retreated to his office, grappling with the anger that grew beneath the surface. How could someone hurt you, an innocent, kind, and beautiful person? He felt torn, wanting to protect you while recognizing the boundaries he had vowed to uphold.
In the hours that followed, a storm of thoughts brewed within him. It was reckless, perhaps, but the idea of bringing you into his office after hours began to take root. He wanted to voice his concerns casually. But when you began to softly cry, that’s when he felt the line blur. The sight of your flushed cheeks, your pretty doe-like eyes glistening with unshed tears— (fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking like that).
Hongjoong pulled back from his reminiscent thoughts, deciding it was best to let you navigate this situation on your own. Maybe you would uncover the truth about Siwoo, perhaps the pieces would fall into place. But the uncertainty gnawed at him, and as he sat in his office, he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could contain his feelings, how much longer he could remain a silent observer to your heartache.
Fuck it? Hongjoong thought to himself. Siwoo deserves a taste of his own medicine.
Hongjoong scoffed to himself at his idea as he sipped on his coffee.
———
The workday unfolded in its usual rhythm, a blur of emails, calls, and the occasional paperwork that seemed to multiply by the hour. You navigated through the tasks with a practiced efficiency, though your mind occasionally drifted to the flurry of messages buzzing on your phone. Each notification from Siwoo felt like a weight pressing down on you, filled with meaningless apologies, and pleads to wire money for some other things, god knows what he needed it for.
With a deep breath, you made the decision to ignore his messages for now. You turned your focus back to your work, fingers typing over the keyboard, pouring your energy into the tasks at hand.
As you typed, the sound of footsteps drew your attention. You looked up to find Hongjoong standing before your desk, his presence commanding yet familiar. He had a way of drawing you in, and for a moment, the chaos of your personal life faded into the background.
“Miss Y/N, please come to my office after work hours,” he said, his tone smooth yet imbued with a seriousness that piqued your curiosity. He turned and strode into his office, leaving you with a flurry of thoughts.
“Yes, sir,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched him go.
With a sigh, you returned to your work, the clock ticking steadily toward the end of the day. Each keystroke felt heavier as the minutes dragged on, and the anticipation of your meeting with Hongjoong lingered like a sweet ache in your heart.
———
As the final colleagues trickled out of the building, the quiet hum of the office began to settle into an echo of solitude. You sighed as you recalled Hongjoong’s instructions. Straightening your buttoned blouse and smoothing down your skirt, you prepared yourself for whatever awaited you in his office.
You knocked softly, the sound barely breaking the silence.
“Come in,” Hongjoong’s voice resonated through the door. You opened it slowly and stepped inside, closing it behind you with a soft click.
Hongjoong was seated at his desk, his white dress shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms accentuated by a dark tie. The sight of him brought a swirl of emotions; he exuded an effortless charisma that both intimidated and drew you in.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” you said, your gaze fixed on the floor, an attempt to hide the mix of anxiety and curiosity swelling inside you.
“Yes, please come here, Y/N,” he replied, his voice calm and low. As you approached him, the familiar sound of your heels clicking against the polished floor echoed in your mind, reminding you of the similar situation a few days ago in this very spot.
“Please, sit,” he gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. You took a seat, positioning yourself at the edge, an instinctive reaction born from uncertainty.
Hongjoong rose from his chair and began to circle around the desk, a pen spinning effortlessly between his slender fingers. The movement was fluid, almost hypnotic, and it pulled your attention as you tried to read his expression.
“Miss Y/N,” he began, pausing for a moment, “you’re one of my smartest employees, correct?” His gaze remained focused elsewhere, a slight distance in his eyes.
“Th—thank you, sir. I—” you started, but his voice cut through your response.
“A person with an important job like yours requires a lot of skill, attentiveness… and have the ability assess the environment around the office, Correct?”
“Yes… that is correct, sir,” you replied quietly, maintaining eye contact,
“Would you agree that you have been lacking some of these skills, Y/N?” Hongjoong stopped infront of you, sitting at the edge of his desk. His arms crossed over his chest, revealing the strong veins that ran along his forearms, an unconscious display of his physicality that made your heart race.
“I—I haven’t noticed, sir. I apologize if I haven’t been performing well…” The words tumbled out, anxiety creeping in. Were you about to get fired? The thought sent a chill through you, and you mentally recoiled at the prospect of your life spiraling further down.
“I’m not going to fire you, Y/N,” he said, and your eyes widened in surprise; it was as if he had plucked the thought straight from your mind.
“I’m not really following this conversation, sir…” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper as you began to fidget with your fingers in your lap, seeking any distraction from the mounting tension.
Hongjoong released a frustrated sigh, and suddenly he pushed himself off the edge of the desk, stepping toward you slowly. His strong arms landed on the armrests of your chair, effectively trapping you in place. He leaned in closer, the proximity forcing you to lean back into the seat, a gasp escaping your lips at the sudden intimacy of the moment.
The air between you thickened. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the sharpness of his gaze holding you captive.
He scoffed, the corner of his lip turning into a smirk as he looked down. His eyes landed on the unbuttoned opening of your shirt. He sees your chest breathing up and down in anticipation. He looks up, gazes at your lips quickly before looking into your eyes.
“For someone so pretty and smart, you’re quite naive” He chuckles. A rush of heat seeps into your cheeks. You’re at a loss for words. You don’t know how to respond, so you opt to stay silent.
“Miss Y/N” Hongjoong says sternly in a soft voice.
“Yes, Sir?” You quietly reply back.
“Can you assess the environment in this office right now?” His voice is a whisper.
“U—Uhm…” you stutter, not knowing what to say. Hongjoong chuckles at your flustered expression.
“Let me give you a hint, Y/N” Hongjoong whispers and leans in closer, his presence enveloping you like a warm wave. Then, in a moment that felt both thrilling and terrifying, his lips brushed against yours. Your eyes widened in shock. This is wrong, a voice in your mind screamed. You shouldn’t be doing this. But as much as you tried to summon the strength to pull away, your body betrayed you.
His lips were soft, warm, and surprisingly gentle as they molded against yours, igniting a fire that swept through you. The worries around you faded, leaving only the two of you suspended in this unexpected moment. It felt as if time had stopped, your heartbeat loud in your ears, drowning out the rational thoughts that screamed for you to stop.
As he finally pulled away, the distance felt electric, charged with a lingering intimacy. His gaze searched yours, earnest and intense. “Do you understand now?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You nod slowly.
“Do you want me to stop?” He asks softly as he looks at your plush lips. You hesitate, unsure of what to say. All you know is that you want whatever lingering feelings Hongjoong has bestowed on you. As much as you know it’s wrong, you can’t help but crave him.
In response to his question, You shake your head in protest. His thumb caresses your chin tilting your head to look up at him.
“Use your words baby.” Hongjoong’s voice is low as he stares into your eyes, searching for an answer.
“Please… don’t stop sir.” You say quietly. Hongjoong smirks and pulls way from you. You look at him confused. His position is sat back onto the edge of his desk.
“Show me you want it too Y/N” He’s teasing you. Wanting to see how far you’re willing to go. Knowing that deep inside, as much as you want this you still feel a tiny ounce of guilt from being unfaithful to your partner. Regardless, You rise from the chair and make your way to Hongjoong. You position yourself between his legs that are slightly spread and place both your arms on his shoulders. You lean forward and kiss him. Hongjoong returns the kiss almost immediately. He can feel himself already growing hard as his lips move against yours. His hands are securely gripped onto your waist bringing you closer to him. He deepens the kiss and swipes his tongue over the bottom of your lip. In response your mouth opens as you release a whimper. Both of your tongues now move together skillfully, resulting in a moan from both of you. As the heated make-out session continues, you notice Hongjoong’s arm pushing away some papers and other items on the desk behind him.
Smoothly, Hongjoong moves your position, his strong arms swiftly carry your body onto the desk. You are now sat on top of the cold wood, arms wrapped around his neck, as he continued to devour your lips. You slightly pull back in attempt to catch your breath. You’re a panting mess, and so is he. Hongjoong however doesn’t want to stop. He pecks your lips, before leaving a trail kisses from the corner of your mouth, to your soft cheek, and finally to your slender neck. Shivers were sent throughout your body as Hongjoong left soft warm kisses on your neck.
“A—ah Sir…” you whimpered quietly. Hongjoong hummed in response as he began to leave opened mouth kisses on your skin.
Hongjoong pushed your legs apart, your skirt already slightly hiked up from him placing you on the desk moments ago. Revealing your exposed thighs, Hongjoong’s hands moved from knees, and traveled up your soft plush thighs, causing you to close them in an instinct, but his strong arms prevent you, keeping them open.
His lips trails up to your ear nibbles on your lobe before whispering softly, “I want you to say my name okay?” You nod in response.
His hands moved dangerously closer to your heat that was radiating from your exposed thighs, but he stops, he was teasing you. His hands caressed your inner thighs, not daring to move closer as he continued to kiss your neck and face. His lips found his way back to yours and takes it in softly.
You whimper against his mouth and he slowly pulls away.
“What’s wrong baby?” His voice is so soft, sending another heat wave down your body.
“Please… touch me, sir” you say sheepishly.
“I told you Y/N, I want you to say my name.” Hongjoong’s grip on your thighs tighten, causing you to whimper in pain and pleasure.
“H—Hongjoong…” your soft, angelic voice echoed in his ears as his name rolled off your tongue.
“Yeah baby?” He tries to hold back a groan, already so turned on by you calling his name.
“Hongjoong, touch me… please?” You plead with your doe eyes staring at him. Hongjoong bites his lip as he looks at your pretty, desperate face.
“Fuck, Y/N… you make me do stupid shit” He curses under his breath before devouring your lips once again.
This time, his hands finally touch your warm clothed pussy. You moan at his touch. His fingers slowly rub against your clit, creating a friction against the fabric of your underwear. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck tighter. Moaning into his lips as he continues to rub you.
Unexpectedly, tears began to well up in the corner of your eyes. Not in pain, not in discomfort, but in a frustrating pleasure.
“Hong—j-joong, stop teasing please” You whimper as he slightly pulls away. He looks at your face, tears slowly falling down. He smirks, “Mm such a dirty brat, crying for me…” He degrades you in a low tone.
His hands find the hem of your underwear, and he skillfully pulls them down. They rest at the ankles of your legs, stopped by your heels that restricted them from falling to the floor. Hongjoong’s left arm cradles your back, as his right hand pushes up your skirt more to reveal your bare wet pussy.
“Fuck… so wet already just from me kissing you, and barely touching you?” He teases you, even though he too is already so rock hard in his slacks, from just kissing and touching you.
His hand makes his way to your clit. The soft bud of his middle and ring finger gently rubs circles, causing you to hold back a moan. Skillfully, his fingers dip down to your entrance, not fully going inside you, just enough to collect your wet fluids, and bring them back up to your clit. He rubs it again, slowly picking up the pace.
Your right hand drops behind you as it land on the desk, supporting your weight. You slightly throw your head back and cover your mouth with your unoccupied arm trying to hide your moans.
“Let me fucken hear you moan baby. No one is here. Just you and me” Hongjoong groans in your ear. His voice turned you on so much, resulting in a soft moan slipping from your lips.
Hongjoong’s fingers make their way to your entrance. Slipping in your tight folds. You gasp and grab onto his shoulder. He pumps his fingers slowly, as he studies your facial expressions. Your eyes are sparkling from the previous tears you shed. Your glossy lips slightly parted as you released soft moans.
“So fucken pretty” Hongjoong moans as he leans down to kiss your forehead. The gentle gesture, mixed with his lewd actions makes your stomach turn in a good way. He begins to pick up the pace. The office room is silent, with only the sounds of your mixed moans, pants, and the wetness of your folds fapping against Hongjoong’s hand.
Your mind begins to get fuzzy as you feel an orgasm near by. Hongjoong feels your pussy tighten around his digits, he chuckles before he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. You whine in protest, frustration builds up in you, you were so close. Your arm around his neck tugs him closer, reaching for his lips, wanting to feel some sort of physical contact. But he pulls away from you. Completely. He steps back and looks at your figure.
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, an unsettling knot tightening in your stomach. Why did he stop? Just moments ago, the air had felt charged with lust, and now it hung heavy with an unspoken tension. A flood of negative thoughts surged through your mind, drowning out any remnants of clarity. Embarrassment crept in, a heat rising to your cheeks, making you feel exposed and vulnerable. Guilt wrapped around you like a heavy cloak, its weight almost suffocating. You could feel the sting of tears pooling in your eyes, the familiar ache of despair threatening to spill over. In a swift, instinctive motion, you cast your gaze downward, as if to shield yourself from the world around you. Your heart raced as quiet whimpers escaped your lips.
Hongjoong watches you as you softly cry. He tries not to loose his composure. The cute look of confusion on your face makes him feral.
“Aww baby… why are you crying hm?” Hongjoong’s voice is raspy. He tilts his head, trying to get a good look at your flushed face. You can’t find yourself to respond, only sniffles and soft whimpers can be heard.
“You know… to be completely honest Y/N…” the sound of Hongjoong’s belt unbuckling fills the air. You glance at him with your doe eyes.
“When I told you… I don’t want to see you cry anymore…” He slings his belt off his pants and drops it to the floor. His hands moving towards the button of his slacks. He shifts towards your body, and leans close to your face.
“I actually meant… I don’t want to see you cry for anyone else but me.” Your eyes widen at his statement. He chuckles at your expression and grabs your hands. He brings them towards his hard mound covered by the soft fabric of his pants.
“You look so fucken pretty when you cry. It turns me on so much. Knowing that you feel so good, you can’t help but shed a few tears” He moans as you begin to instinctively rub your hands on his huge hard on.
“Help me out baby. Be a good girl” Hongjoong whispers to you, and you nod. He smiles at your response. You make your way off the desk, and position yourself on your knees. You slowly unzip Hongjoong’s pants and pull them down along with his trousers. His hard, long cock springs out and softly hits your face. You gasp at the sudden sight. Earning a chuckle from him.
“Open your mouth.” He demands softly. Your lips part, tongue slightly sticking out, as you take Hongjoong’s length in. He releases a loud groan. Cursing under his breath as you begin to slowly bob your head up and down. You twirl your tongue a few times over his tip, causing him to tightly grip onto your soft hair.
“F—Fuck baby…” Hongjoong throws his head back.
“… damn, your boyfriend is this lucky and can’t even fucken appreciate you” You freeze at the sudden statement, and Hongjoong smirks as he scoffs. In response, he begins to thrust into your mouth slowly. You moan on his cock as he begins to shove himself deeper into your mouth. You tap Hongjoong’s leg, and he pulls you off him instantly. You gasp for air, a string of saliva connecting from your lip to his cock, as you begin to cough. Hongjoong chuckles, caressing your hair.
“Stand up” He demands. And in an instant you’re on your feet. Hongjoong swiftly lifts you up and places you back onto the desk. His hands are hastily unbuttoning your blouse as he kisses your lips. You moan, furrowing your brows, still thinking about the humiliating statement Hongjoong said. Something about his touch is so intoxicating, making you want more. Making you not care about anything in your reality.
As Hongjoong releases the last button on your blouse, he quickly pushes your shirt off, revealing your black lacy bra filled by your perfect plush breasts. His hands grace over your chest, sending shivers down your spine. He kisses the exposed skin of your breast. His hands moving towards the straps, as he pulls them off. He reaches behind you and skillfully releases the clasps of your bra. The black lace drops swiftly revealing your perfect boobs.
“So fucken perfect for me baby.” Hongjoong whispers as he gropes them with his hands. You moan at his touch. He takes one in his mouth and laps at your nipples, resulting in you throwing your head back in pleasure.
“H—Hongjoong” you moan his name, he hums in response, still working on your breasts.
“Want.. m—more” you stutter under his touch.
He pulls away from you and pants, trying to calm himself down.
“Want more what?” He cocks an eyebrow at you. You pout, too embarrassed to verbally say what you want from him.
“Tell me now, or I’ll leave you here” Hongjoong threatens as he begins to pump himself, already knowing what you want. But he still wants to hear the words from your mouth.
“I want… you inside me… please?” You whimper in embarrassment. You look at him and you see a spark of excitement in his eyes as he smirks at you.
“Atta girl. Wasn’t so hard to say right?” He teases you as he brings himself closer to your pussy. Your breath increases as he places his tip right at the entrance. He only inserts his head before pulling out, repeating the gesture a few times. You whine as a tear falls from your eyes.
“Quit being a fucken brat” Hongjoong hisses at you bringing a gentle hand to your face as he wipes the tear away. Finally, He pushes his whole length inside you, earning a loud yelp from you. His cock instantly hits your sensitive spot and you cling onto his arms. He pauses inside of you, letting you adjust to his size. You’re definitely not used to his large length and thick girth, he’s stretching you out so good.
“Damn baby, you’re so tight? Your boyfriend isn’t big enough huh?” Hongjoong snickers at you. You whine at the sudden mention of your boyfriend again. It’s like he wants to remind you of him on purpose. To humiliate you. Hongjoong begins a slow pace inside you. Grunting as he moves against you.
“Answer me…” he demands, his hand cups your chin to force your gaze on him.
“H—he isn’t big enough. Y—you’re bigger Hongjoong…” You moan as he thrusts deeper.
“You… make me feel s—so good” You close your eyes as you take in the pleasure running through your body. Hongjoong manically smiles. Ecstatic at your response.
“Yeah?” He teases. Picking up his pace. The sound of your sweet moans heighten, the wet sounds of you two slapping against each other fill the room along with Hongjoong’s dirty words.
“Bet you, he doesn’t fuck you this good huh? Look at you. A fucken mess on my cock.”
“N-no! He doesn’t.” You whine, another wave of tears begin to fall from your eyes. The overstimulation of Hongjoong pumping into you along with his degrading words overwhelms you. You don’t want to admit it, but you fucken love this. Your body is enjoying every fucken moment of this dirty, lewd affair.
“F-Fuucckk” Hongjoong moans loudly. “Look at me while you cry, baby. Let me see that pretty face” you listen to him without hesitation. Your eyes locking with his. You feel yourself closer to reaching your high. Until you’re both interrupted with a sudden ringing.
You both turn your heads to the chair you sat on when you first entered Hongjoong’s office. The sight of your bright phone screen illuminates the dim room.
*Siwoo <3 is Calling*
Your heart drops at the name. Anxiety suddenly filling your body, replacing the pleasure you felt before. Hongjoong notices and smirks at you. He reaches over and grabs your phone.
“Answer it.” He demands. You shake your head no.
“I said fucken answer it. Your boyfriend is waiting for you. Don’t be a fucken brat now. Do you want me to stop?” Hongjoong’s words are harsh. You instantly shake your head in protest of him stopping.
“Then fucken answer it” Hongjoong shoves the phone towards you.
You hesitate as you grab the phone from his hands and click the green button. You bring the phone to your ear, but Hongjoong pulls your wrist, and clicks on the speaker button. He cocks his head at you, signaling you to continue,
“H-Hello? Siwoo?” You begin. Hongjoong resumes his pace. Fucking you in and out.
“Hey Honey. What are you doing?” Siwoo’s voice is calm, in contrast to what you’re feeling right now.
“A-Ah.. I’m j-just finishing up some w-work” You stutter as you try to keep your composure. Hongjoong makes it harder for you as he begins to lick your neck.
“You’re still at work?” Siwoo questions.
“M—mm, Yeah. Don’t worry. I—I’ll be home soon” You bite your lip trying to contain a moan.
“You okay Y/N? why do you keep stuttering?” Siwoo’s voices a concern.
“I—i’m okay. I-I just don’t feel too well. I think it’s a stomach tic” You bluff, trying to find an excuse.
“You don’t feel well? Shall I come pick you up from work-?” Siwoo suggests
“No!” You cut him off. You curse to yourself. Hongjoong smiles against a your neck and softly bites it as he continues fucking you senseless.
“Oh- okay then. Just be careful. take some medicine” You roll your eyes. (why the fuck does Siwoo decide to be sweet right now out of all days?) You mentally say to yourself.
“Y-yes I will…” You reply softly.
“Anyways, did you see my text? can you wire me some money?” Siwoo asks nonchalantly. You scoff, earning a vocalized chuckle from Hongjoong. Your eyes widen as you pull him closer to your neck, trying to muffle his laughter. You bite your lip, in hopes Siwoo didn’t hear anything.
“S—sorry, Siwoo. I don’t get paid till this Friday.” you manage to get out.
“Aww please? just a few bucks” Siwoo whines. In annoyance, you roll your eyes once again.
“Siwoo, I—I can’t. I have to go” You quickly hang up the call and throw your phone down. Hongjoong detaches from your neck and chuckles before attacking your lips. His pace begins to pick up. He holds onto your waist for support and you hold him closer. Hongjoong pulls away from your lips and rests his forehead against yours.
“Does he take care of you? or do you take care of him?” He teases as he tries to hold back a laugh.
“S—Shut up” You moan in response. Hongjoong thrusts hard into you, earning a loud yelp from you.
“Someone’s suddenly mouthy?” Hongjoong’s hand grips onto your chin as he lightly taps your cheek.
“F—Fuck” You moan as he shoves himself inside you, with long and deep strokes.
Hongjoong then suddenly pulls out of you. Not wanting to waste any time, he lifts you off the desk and flips you over. Your front is pushed onto the cold wood, and he pulls your hips higher. Your forearms hoist yourself for support as you feel Hongjoong enter you once again. His hands grip under your skirt pushing them up towards your waist, giving him a perfect view of your ass. He mentally curses to himself as he watches your butt bounce on his cock at a constant pace. He brings his hand down to caress it before raising it and bringing it back down in a hard, but pleasurable slap. You yelp in response, eyes widen at the sudden contact.
“Such a fucken naughty girl. Fucking your boss, when you have a boyfriend” Hongjoong degrades you as his hand makes contact with your ass again. You whimper at the stinging sensation. Your tears fall onto the papers infront of you.
“Who fucks you better baby?” Hongjoong pants as his speed increases. “Me or Siwoo? Hm?” He asks again taking you in deeper.
“A—Ahhhh~ You, Hongjoong.” You sniffle your tears , “Hongjoong fucks me better!” You scream as his pace becomes sloppy. Hongjoong hears your crying whimpers and quickly turns you around to face him. Your body now lays flat on his desk as he pumps into you.
“Yeah? bet I can be better lover than him too” Hongjoong confesses as he smashes his lips onto yours. Your heart clenches at his statement. A sudden wave of orgasm hits you. Your pussy tightens around him as you come undone. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you release a loud moan. Your face buried in his chest, as he continues to fuck you and chase his high. Hongjoong’s thrust become sloppy, and quickly pulls out of you.
“Let me cum on your pretty face” He hastily demands. You quickly move towards his lower body and he pumps himself quickly on you. Hongjoong looks at your sparkly doe eyes, and bites his lips. His warm thick load releases into your face, along with a loud grunt from his mouth. You gasp as the feeling of the strings of cum landing on your soft skin. Your mouth instinctively opens,
“F—Fuckkk baby” Hongjoong hisses as he continues to pump more of his load onto your tongue.
The office room is filled with the sounds of you and Hongjoong panting, trying to catch your breath. The room reeks of sex. Your eyes are still locked on his. His white cum painted on your face and mouth. Without any other choice, you close your mouth and swallow his bittersweet cum.
“Fuck” Hongjoong whispers under his breath. He caresses your hair and reaches over his desk to grab a few tissue papers. Hongjoong wipes your face gently and kisses your forehead.
"Let me clean you up down there,"
Hongjoong whispered, his voice a soft, intimate murmur that seemed to linger in
the air between you. The earlier intensity of steamy sex had left a palpable tension, but now, a gentle calm enveloped the room. His eyes, once aflame with desire, were now filled with a warmth that reassured you, reminding you of the caring side he often showed.
After the whirlwind of passion, Hongjoong's demeanor had transformed completely. The fire that had ignited between you both settled into a tender glow as he moved closer, his presence both comforting and protective. With a steady hand, he reached for another tissue, his fingers brushing your skin lightly as he began to clean you up. The touch was careful and deliberate, as if he were trying to convey his affection through each gentle motion.
You felt a mix of vulnerability and warmth wash over you, grateful for the way he approached this moment. It was as though he understood the importance of transitioning from the intensity of physical connection to something more nurturing and intimate. You appreciated how he took his time, ensuring that you felt cared for, both emotionally and physically. As you two began to help each other back into your clothing, you couldn’t ignore the lingering feelings.
“I’ll take you home” Hongjoong smiles gently at you and brushes a strand of your hair out of your face. You nod and follow behind him out of his office. As he approached your desk, Hongjoong gathered your bags. You instinctively reached out to grab them, but he gently shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“Let me handle this,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. With that, he took the lead, guiding you toward his car.
As you followed behind, your legs felt wobbly, you could sense him glancing back occasionally, ensuring you were still keeping up.
At the car, he paused, opening the passenger door, gesturing for you to get in. You slid into the seat. He placed your bags in the back with care, then turned to you, his demeanor softening as he reached for his spare coat. With a fluid motion, he draped it over your shoulders, its warmth enveloping you like a comforting hug.
“Hongjoong—” you started, the silence stretching between you, but he raised a hand to quiet you.
“Shh, it’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to say anything. Just rest,” he said gently. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
The drive home was silent. The hum of the engine a lullaby in the stillness of the night. You fought to keep your eyes open, fatigue clawing at you, but each passing moment, tried to invite you to surrender to the drowsiness. Suddenly, the car came to a stop, signaling at you from your drowsy haze. You turned to look at Hongjoong, who was already gazing at you.
“Y/N…” Hongjoong’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried an undeniable weight. “I meant what I said when I told you I can be a better lover than Siwoo.” The sincerity in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. “He doesn’t treat you well. You deserve someone who truly values you.” His eyes held a raw intensity as he continued, “I don’t think I can go on without you knowing that I’ve always wanted you for myself.”
His sudden confession took you by surprise, leaving you momentarily speechless. The air around you felt charged, and you could hardly process the emotions swirling within you.
“Let me prove to you that I will love you better. Please, Y/N,” he urged, his gaze earnest and imploring. The vulnerability he displayed was a stark contrast to what he portrayed in the office just moments ago. This was a side of him that revealed his deep feelings, and it struck a chord within you.
Your heart raced as you absorbed his words, the truth of them resonating deep inside. You had long felt the magnetic pull toward him, the warmth in his presence that made you feel seen in a way Siwoo never had. You realized in that moment that you, too, wanted to love him—fully and unreservedly.
Compelled by a rush of emotion, you leaned in closer, the space between you evaporating. Your lips met his in a tender kiss, a hesitant exploration that quickly deepened as he responded. His hands found their way to your face, cradling it gently as he pulled you in, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through your entire being.
“Fuck- if you kiss me like that I might take you right here again” Hongjoong chuckles against your lips. And you giggle in response. However, his expression falls down.
“Y/N… I should tell you that Siwoo has been cheating on you.” Hongjoong sighs as he rests his forehead against yours.
“Who’s Siwoo?” You joke trying to mask your disappointment of him mentioning your now ex. “Y/N, I know I initiated an affair while you are dating him too but, you needed to know.” Hongjoong states in a serious tone.
“I know, Hongjoong.” You say softly. “I figured after our conversation we had on Friday, when he came over to my house the next day. I guess my naive self chose to ignore it… I messaged him earlier when we got to the car that I’m over with him. I’m no longer his.” You look at Hongjoong as he studies your face.
“So… does this mean you’re mine?” Hongjoong raises an eyebrow. You softly smile and shrug your shoulders. Hongjoong smirks at you and in an instant unbuckles his seat belt and exits the car. He makes his way to the passenger door and opens it. Swiftly, he lifts your body and throws you over his shoulder. You yelp in response and he carries you towards his house.
“You drove us to your house?!” You exclaim as you giggle over his shoulder.
“Let me remind you again who you really belong to” Hongjoong chuckles as he playfully slaps your ass and quickly makes his way through the doors of his home.
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Pt. 2 (updated 10/21)
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Author’s commentary: Should I do a sequel? 👀. I had way more ideas for this story but decided to cut it short LOLLL. Anyways, I hope yall enjoy😝 feel free to fangirl in my comment section/ ask box🤭.
#ateez fanfic#ateez imagines#ateez smut#ateez x reader#ateez fanfiction#ateez writing#yeostinywrites#hongjoong smut#hongjoong x reader#hongjoong fanfic#hongjoong imagines#hongjoong hard thoughts#hongjoong#hongjoongcryforme
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౨ৎ ━━━ R U MINE?
━ cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater
━ characters: gojo, geto, nanami, toji
━ sum: catching him in the act. (modern au)
━ wc: 3.06k
━ tw: angst, m cheating, angst again, angst, no comfort :(, slight nsfw. MDNI.
lowercase intended!
𖤐.ᐟ pt 1: cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater | pt 2: ghost of u.
m.list
━━━ GOJO SATORU
you stared in utter disbelief at the sight before you. the plastic bags, that were once in your hands, sat by your feet as you involuntarily let go of the bags of plastic.
"i'm so sorry." you muttered hastily, picking up the plastic bags and quickly excusing yourself from the place you once called home. all of the memories, that were once only good and filled with love, were quickly replaced with the feeling of disgust and utter sadness.
the scene of your boyfriend, very soon to be ex boyfriend, and a woman having sex in the foyer of his mansion, was quickly engraved into your memories. the sight of gojo satoru's bright blue eyes, widening upon the realization that you had come home to him, shirtless with his pants down to his ankles, fucking a woman in doggy style, as her hair was bundled up in his hand.
"[name]!" hearing your name slip past his lips, you quickened your pace. your hands shaking as you try to get your car keys out of your bag, tears threatening to slip past your eyes.
"[name]! listen to me!" his bigger hands grabbing the hand you were using to dig through your bag, making you quickly pull your hand away. taking a step back, you refused to look at him. you refused to let him see you break down into tears. you refused to let him see how he broke you.
taking the biggest breath you were able to muster, you shut your eyes tightly before looking at him. his disheveled hair, the trickles of sweat coming down his forehead, his shirtless body, his swollen lips. before you knew it, the tears began to fall, one by one.
"[name], angel, it's not what it looks like." sato- no, gojo, quickly added, the desperation in his voice as he tried to excuse his adultery.
"i'll come by within the next week to pick up my stuff." you ignored his weak attempts to make excuses. turning your back to him once again, you resumed to dig through your bag. you bite down hard on your lower lip as you tried to suppress the whimpers that threatened to escape your throat.
in another weak attempt to stop you, he hugged you from behind, whispering i'm sorry's into your ear, hoping to calm your shaking body. your body froze at the contact. his back hugs that you used to adore, used to make you feel safe and at peace, no longer gave you that feeling.
"you were just gone for so long, angel. that woman is nothing to me, i swear. i know i shouldn't have done it," his words didn't even reach you. "it won't happen again! please, forgive me! i can fix it! i'm the best, right?! i can do anything for you, i'll do whatever! you know i can make it right!"
it's funny. he was caught fucking another woman, and the first thing that came out of his mouth, 'you were just gone for so long'. his speech was quick and messy, his body shaking as he held onto you tightly, afraid if he lets go, you're actually going to leave him.
"'tor- gojo," you weakly spoke as you found your voice. "text me when you're available so i can pick up my things."
"no, no you won't. you're not actually planning on leaving me right?" gojo's embrace tightened. "it was a mistake! i'll atone, i swear! baby, please..."
you turned your body, softly pushing the white haired man away from you, your eyes meet his. his blue eyes, frantic as he tried to read your expression, as he tried to read what you were feeling, as he tried to read your thoughts. the man who was titled 'the best', couldn't read you.
"i trust that you would never do it again, satoru..." his eyes brightened ever so slightly, the feeling of hope and relief washed over him. he takes a step closer to you, before freezing. your next words broke down any sense of relief and hope he had felt, quicker than he had felt them come in. "because we're over."
━━━ GETO SUGURU
"do you think dad is sleeping?" nanako questioned as she sucked on her lolipop.
"maybe." mimiko shrugged watching you unlock the front door of the small apartment.
"if he is we should keep quiet," you told them, opening the front door as you looked at the two twins. "your dad is probably really tired."
letting the sisters go inside first, you chuckle softly as they both excitedly took their outside shoes off, running up to their shared room with their new bags of clothing that you had purchased for them. lining up their shoes beside your's, you notice another pair of shoes laying there. ones you haven't seen before. shrugging off the weird feeling that had taken over you, telling yourself one of the girls had gotten another pair without your knowledge, you make your way to the kitchen planning on preparing tonight's dinner.
the sounds of hushed whispering reached your ears. stopping whatever you were doing, you stayed silent. thinking the girls wanted to play a joke on you, you ducked behind the small island, planning on scaring the twins instead. hearing the steps come closer, you jumped up with a 'boo'.
expecting to see the twins, you were met with a random woman shrieking and suguru's shocked expressions. you froze. the sound of two pairs of footsteps running down, fell deaf to your ears.
there stood, your boyfriend shirtless with dark red marks on his chest, down his abdomen.
"who the fuck are you?" nanako questioned, her voice loud with authority, breaking whatever hypnosis you were in.
with no words, the woman quickly left, picking up her shoes that you had spotted at the entrance. the apartment was silent. geto looked back and forth towards you and the two sisters, as he struggled to say anything.
"nana, mimi." you called to the two girls, who looked at you upon hearing their names. "would you guys please go upstairs? i think your dad and i need to talk."
"no!" nanako exclaimed. her eyes red with anger. "whatever you guys have to talk about we should know too right?! i mean, i'm sure it's not what it looked like right?!"
"[name]..." geto could only mutter. your eyes made contact with his.
you looked down at the cutting board that laid in front of you. the vegetables that were in the midst of being cut for a family dinner, was completely forgotten. the erratic beating of your heart, and the feeling of betrayal consumed you entirely.
"say something!" nanako pleaded to her adoptive father, who only looked down with shame.
"dad..." mimiko spoke. "don't tell us you cheated on [name]..."
"we were just starting to feel like we finally had a mom!" nanako yelled as she began crying. "you just had to fuck it up?!"
the sight of nanako getting upset on your behalf, the tears that threatened to fall from mimiko's eyes, the sight of your body shaking as you held back tears for the sake of the twins, broke geto suguru.
"i..." geto spoke up, but no words followed.
"girls," you finally looked up, the heartbreakingly sad smile you gave the two, made them begin crying slightly harder. "go upstairs, i'll be there to talk to you guys after i talk to suguru. please."
giving into your pleas, the two hesitantly made their way upstairs, leaving you and geto alone. silence engulfed the two of you. you stared at the long haired man, your eyes raking up his body. your eyes following the trail of multiple hickeys that littered his chest.
"why?" your voice so weak, so destroyed.
"i don't...i don't know..." geto answered truthfully, the sound of your heart shattering echoed in your ears, your eyes no longer being able to keep the salty water at bay.
"if you didn't want to be committed, why didn't you say something?" you cried, a sob escaping your throat.
"i did!- i do! i don't know why, it just happened..." geto spoke, his words breaking your heart even more. the deep red marks across his chest that was out for the world to see, a loud reminder that geto suguru, didn't love you. and if he did, he didn't love you enough to stay devoted to you.
choked sobs escaped your throat. you covered your mouth in attempt to calm yourself. you took a deep breath, tears continuing to stream down your cheeks.
"we're done."
geto's eyes snapped to your's hearing your sentence, his eyes widening. you swallowed hard, walking around the island and past geto's frozen body. as you walked past him, he took a hold of your hand, gently tugging to keep you from continuing your way up the stairs, forcing you to look at him.
"you're not actually going to leave me and the girls," his eyes looking through your's. "right?"
"i loved the girls as if my own, sug- geto." you cried. "i loved you, took care of you, devoted myself to you and this is what i get in return?"
you snatched your hand out of his grip. you stared at him deep into his eyes, tears fell out of your orbs as if never ending. you turned your back, making your way up the stairs to mimiko and nanako's room. before ascending even more, you stopped. without turning around you spoke before continuing your way up the flight of stairs.
"we're breaking up."
━━━ NANAMI KENTO
it had been a while since you've seen your beloved boyfriend due to having a business trip over seas. nanami kento, the man you desperately wanted to marry and have a family with. a hard working man, never trying to work overtime, loving, soft, gentle and so much more.
you had decided to surprise him at his office with his favorite lunch, wanting to eat with him before he had to go back to work. making your way through the building, greeting familiar faces, a skip in your step as you made your way to his office.
giggling to yourself as you spot his windows covered with blinds, you knew he was working himself to the bone, trying not to stay at the office longer than he has too. a bright smile made it's way to your features as you fixed yourself, wanting to look presentable for when you surprise him.
taking out the spare key he had given you to his office, with the reason being, he didn't want to be disturbed as he worked with people entering his office unannounced. only you being able to get to him whenever you felt. you brought your phone out, pressing record, wanting to make a cute memory of you surprising him after being away for so long. you unlock the office door.
you brought your phone out in front of you, recording. the smile you once had immediately dropping.
there sat nanami kento in his chair, with his cock out and his assistant on her knees, tits out and mouth around his dick.
"WHAT THE FUCK, KENTO?!" you yelled tears falling down your face as you quickly put your phone down, never stopping the recording.
with a yelp, his assistant raises to her feet, sloppily fixing her shirt as she tried to walk past you. grabbing her shoulder, you forcefully make her face you.
"i would hit you, but i refuse to touch a whore." you sneered at her. she rolled her eyes at you with a scoff.
"not my fault he's easy. besides you obviously couldn't keep him satisfied, so i helped him." she snapped back with a smirk. with a laugh, you waved your phone in the air.
"i hope you have fun living in the street, where you belong, slut." her eyes widened in realization. immediately breaking down, nanami's assistant begins to stutter out words.
"isn't that too much?" nanami's voice made you snap you head at him. seeing him zip up his pants, he hesitantly walked over to you, his eyebrows furrowed.
"oh, shut the fuck up, nanami." you bit back with so much anger, shocking him.
ignoring the woman who cried as she ran out the office, your eyes never left his. the feeling of anger and heartbreak grew in you as he stood there staring at you, your tears never ending. your tears mixed with anger and sadness.
"when did you get back?" nanami asked, his voice weak. "i thought you were back next week."
you scoffed. "why does it matter, huh? so you wouldn't get caught fucking a skank?"
his silence angered you even more. seething, the video that had ended upon you raising your phone in the air, without hesitation, you sent it to the company's ceo, having met him at nanami's work parties, along with sending it to any of the other office workers' phones that you had saved. including sending it to nanami kento.
to whoever watched the video, the sound of you silently giggling in excitement as you unlocked the door, then quickly turning into sheer horror at the obvious scene of nanami and his assistant. the video soon catching your conversation with the assistant.
the realization was soon hitting him. he was scared.
"you're fucking disgusting." you spat, roughly wiping your tears away, before leaving the office.
"live a fan-fucking-tabulous life, nanami kento."
━━━ FUSHIGURO TOJI
"what do you think i should make for dinner, megu?" you asked the teenage boy who sat beside you as you drove the two of you to your apartment.
"gyudon sounds good." megumi answered shortly after.
the two of you held conversation, soon making it to the apartment you had moved into a few years ago. making your way upstairs with megumi close behind. unlocking the front door, you and megumi begin putting groceries away, soon beginning on making dinner.
"did you tell your dad we didn't continue to the arcade with yuiji and nobara?" you asked as you cut up the onions.
"nah," megumi shrugged. "do you have any ideas of what kind of food you want at the wedding, mom?"
mom. the feeling of megumi calling you that never got old. it made your heart leap with joy knowing megumi saw you as his mother. you had known megumi for almost five years, it took him so long to get used to you being around due to his father's past histories of bringing random women home. he thought if he got attached, you would disappear too.
just a few months ago, megumi began calling you 'mom'. the memory still fresh and with forever be engraved with the first time he accidentally called you his mom. soon it began being a habit of his to call you 'mom' or 'ma'. but that was another story for another time.
toji proposed to you a year ago, at a jockey. of course being in love with him and his son, you said yes. you and toji's wedding was set to happen in a month. as time ticks, the closer the wedding got, the more excited you had become (including megumi).
you and megumi continued to make dinner, before your guys' attention had been brought to the sound of the front door knob jiggling.
the sound of a woman moaning and mouths smacking against one another, reverberated around the apartment, making your stomach drop. toji and a random woman making out as he carried her into the house, as you and megumi looked at the sight in horror.
the sound of you dropping the glass soy sauce bottle shattering onto the floor, made toji and the woman pull apart from their kiss and to the noise. toji's eyes widened, seeing his son and his fiance standing there.
dropping the woman, he shoved her out of the apartment, closing the door roughly. he stood in front of you and megumi. without knowing, you began crying. tears pouring out of your eyes as you stared at him.
"again, toji?" you whimpered, covering your mouth from the sobs that were escaping your throat. the broken shards of glass on the floor, perfectly depicting how your heart felt.
"again?" megumi repeated, his eyes narrowing at his father. "what do you mean again?"
"go to your room." fushiguro's rough voice demanded at his son.
"no. what does mom mean by 'again'?" megumi pried, his fists clenching.
"go to your room before i make you, megumi." fushiguro demanded, his voice getting stern.
rubbing megumi's back in comfort, you whispered. "please, just go. i don't want you and your dad to fight."
"tch." megumi clicked his tongue, pushing past his dad, slamming his room door shut.
"seriously, toji?" you sobbed. "you're doing this, again?"
the sight of you sobbing, ignited something in him. the diamond ring on your finger, glistened in the kitchen's lights. all at once, the realization of his actions cam dawning upon him, but it was too late.
"i know, i know," toji's voice unusually soft compared to the voice he used with his son. "i swear this was the last time. i promise. you can forgive me again, right?"
shaking your head, as you continued to sob into your hand. toji tried to embrace you, but was shoved away. looking at you in masked shock.
"toj- fushiguro," you hiccuped through your cries. "i can't. not anymore."
his eyes widened when we watches you taking the engagement ring off, placing it on the table.
"there's no way you're leaving, right?" he asked, afraid of your answer. the once composed, daring and rough man, began to crumble right before you. "the wedding is just a few weeks away. you can't- i've made plenty of mistakes, i'm not perfect. i won't do it ever again, especially when i've made you my wife, c'mon, doll."
"that's not how this works!" you yelled at him between your sobs. "i'm done, fushiguro."
"what about megumi? he finally called you 'mom', right? you're not seriously throwing that away." fushiguro spoke with haste.
"i will always, and forever be there for my sweet megumi," you hiccuped. "together or not, fushiguro, megumi can reach me whenever he needs, i'll fill in the shoes as his mother until he no longer needs me."
"what about me? i need you." fushiguro tried to hold you, but you move away from him.
"no," you whimpered. "the wedding is off, we're done."
note(s):
not proofread
i hope this wasn't too ooc! i wrote nanami and geto as people who wouldn't care at first but once it all settles in, it starts to hit them hard, lmk if i should do a pt 2
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#nanami kento#nanami x reader#geto suguru#geto x reader#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#jjk angst#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#gojo x you#geto x you#nanami x you#toji x you
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I bet on losing dogs || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
Summary: The complications of reader's first pregnancy
Warnings: this fic deals with a miscarriage please read at your own risk, mention of blood, angst
Word count: 1,55
A/n: This is what readers mother was referring to in foreign feelings if you are confused with the timeline of anything, feel free to ask but this occurs after first pregnancy and before reader finds out she is pregnant again with Leo (a fic I haven't written yet)
divider by @h-aewo
You hear Rafe let out a loud sigh as he settles under the covers, his usual tension evident even as he prepares for bed. You glance over at him, noting the way he turns his back to you. With a soft exhale, you make your way to the bathroom, the familiar fluorescent lights flickering on as you begin your nightly skincare routine.
It’s a soothing ritual, one of the few moments you feel entirely in control, a brief escape from the complexities of your life with him. You open the drawer, carefully pulling out your favourite cleanser, the cool feel of it against your skin offering comfort as you massage it in slow, circular motions. Through the mirror, your eyes flicker back to Rafe’s figure, now still under the blankets.
His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, the soft rise of his breath somehow grounding yet distant. You wonder, for a brief moment, what’s on his mind, but you shake the thought away, knowing that such questions are often met with cold indifference or irritation. As you close the lid of your moisturiser, you pause, your hand freezing mid-motion as a sharp pain suddenly radiates through your stomach.
A wince escapes your lips, the pain so sudden and intense it takes your breath away. You grip the counter, steadying yourself, eyes squeezed shut as you try to will it away. The silence of the room feels heavier now, and you glance again at Rafe, who remains motionless. Despite the growing ache in your body, you resist the urge to wake him, knowing that any sign of weakness would only widen the rift between you two.
Forcing yourself to breathe through the pain, you push past it, trying to maintain your calm. But the sensation of liquid rolling down your thigh causes a wave of panic to seize your chest. Slowly, with trembling hands, you reach beneath your nightgown. Your breath hitches in terror as your fingertips come away slick with blood. “Rafe…” your voice is barely above a whisper, fragile and trembling as your eyes lock onto the crimson stain spreading across your once pristine white nightgown.
“Oh my god…” you choke out, your heart racing as the blood pools beneath your feet, a deep, horrifying red against the cold bathroom tiles. "Rafe!" Your voice cracks, louder this time, filled with raw panic as the sobs come uncontrollably. Rafe jolts awake, startled by the sound of his name. Groggy and confused, he turns toward the bathroom, squinting against the light as he tries to focus.
The sight of you, slumped and trembling, blood staining your gown, pulls him from the haze of sleep in an instant. “Rafe, the baby. Is the baby okay? Why’s there so much blood!” Your words come out in a terrified rush, your sobs making it difficult to breathe as you clutch your stomach. Rafe’s eyes widen in horror, his expression rapidly shifting from confusion to alarm.
“Holy shit,” he mutters under his breath, his voice tense, almost as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. He stumbles out of the bed, rushing toward you, but before he can reach you, you collapse to your knees, cradling yourself, the blood continuing to seep into the floor beneath you. Rafe stands by the door, eyes wide. “Fuck… Anita!” Rafe yells, his voice desperate as he runs toward the door, his panic bubbling over.
He shouts for Anita again, his voice echoing through the house, but the seconds stretch on, feeling like an eternity as you sit there, your body trembling violently with sobs. You hold yourself tighter, rocking slightly as the tears fall, the world around you closing in. Rafe comes rushing back in, his face pale and frantic as he stares at you, at the blood. He stumbles, clearly unsure of what to do as panic claws at him too.
For once, the cold mask he usually wears in moments of crisis has shattered. He kneels beside you, reaching out but hesitating, his hands shaking as he hovers over you. “I—shit, we need to get you to a hospital.” His voice wavers, no longer the confident Rafe you’re used to seeing. “No-no. My parents will hear about it, I haven’t told them yet remember?” you murmur through shaky breaths, your voice fragile and barely audible.
Rafe stares at you, his usual coldness softened as he gently brushes the stray strands of hair from your tear-streaked face. “Okay, okay—uh—I’ll call James,” he replies, swallowing hard as if to steady himself. You give a weak nod, trying to focus on your breathing, though every second feels like agony. He stands up, glancing at you one last time before quickly leaving the room. Within minutes, another sharp pain grips your abdomen.
A choked sob escapes your lips, and you bite down on the back of your hand, tears spilling freely as the pain intensifies. "Hey, hey. Let's get you in the bathtub," Rafe’s voice, uncharacteristically gentle, reaches you through the haze of your suffering. He kneels beside you, carefully helping you to your feet. The warmth of his touch feels distant, like a lifeline you’re too afraid to grasp.
Rafe moves quickly, turning on the water before easing you into the tub. You draw your knees up to your chest, curling into yourself as the sobs wrack your body. The sound of the water fills the room, mingling with the raw, broken cries you try to muffle. Rafe watches you from the side, his heart constricting at the sight of you so vulnerable, so broken. His mind flashes back to when you first told him about the pregnancy, the disbelief and apprehension that had shadowed his reaction.
Now, all of it feels so distant, as if the fragile hope of that moment has been ripped away. “Good lord,” Anita’s voice breaks through the quiet tension, her shock evident as she takes in the blood-stained floor, her steps faltering at the doorway. James follows closely behind her, his face grim, prepared for the worst. Anita rushes to your side, and Rafe stands, backing away to give her space as she kneels by the tub.
Anita wraps you in her arms, her presence grounding you in a way that only she could. Her hand strokes your back in soothing circles, her words soft and gentle. “It’s okay, shh, just let it out. I’m here, my love.” “T-There was so much blood, Anita. So much,” you gasp between sobs, your voice trembling with terror. “I know, I know, just try and calm down,” Anita murmurs, her voice unwavering, though her eyes glisten with unshed tears.
Meanwhile, James exchanges a somber look with Rafe before stepping forward. “You’ll still bleed for a little while, Y/n. I’ll give you something to calm down, but right now, your body needs to process what’s happening.” His voice is calm, measured, though the sorrow in his eyes is unmistakable. “I am so terribly sorry for your loss.”
You lift your gaze, and through tear-blurred vision, you see Rafe standing by the bathroom counter, his hands tangled in his hair, his expression dark and haunted. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice cracking as the weight of everything presses down on you. The grief, the guilt—it’s suffocating. Rafe’s head snaps up, and the room falls silent as everyone’s attention shifts to you. “For what?” Rafe’s voice cuts through the quiet, and he pushes himself off the counter, stepping toward you.
“For losing the baby—” you begin, your voice small and broken, but Rafe interrupts, his tone sharp, almost impatient. “Don’t be sorry. You’ll have plenty more chances of being pregnant again,” he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration, as if your sorrow is misplaced. It’s the coldness in his tone that stings the most, as though the loss is nothing more than a setback, something that can be fixed or replaced.
You fall silent, staring down at your feet, the water lapping softly against the tub. The ache in your chest deepens, not just from the physical pain but from the emotional distance between you and Rafe. You feel the weight of his indifference like a stone pressing down on your already fragile heart. “But what if I’m not meant to carry a child?” The words spill out before you can stop them, the doubt and fear you’ve been holding inside for so long finally breaking free.
“Don’t say such a thing,” Anita’s voice is firm, her hand tightening on your shoulder. “You’re a perfectly healthy woman who was unfortunate to have a miscarriage. This isn’t your fault.” Her voice is soothing, but you can’t help the gnawing sense of inadequacy that grips you. Rafe stands quietly, his gaze hardening, as if he can’t quite understand your grief—or perhaps, refuses to.
He’s always been practical, focused on the future, but in this moment, all you want is for him to see you, to acknowledge the depth of what you’ve lost. Instead, you’re left feeling more alone than ever, despite the people surrounding you.
#rafe cameron x fem!reader forced marriage au#drew starkey#rafe cameron#outer banks#fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#drew starkey x reader#rafe cameron x you#drew starkey x y/n#obx fanfiction#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x smut#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron au#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe outer banks#rafe obx#rafe x reader#rafe cameron prompt#outerbanks rafe#outerbanks#outerbanks x reader#outer banks x y/n#outer banks fanfiction
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‘your lover may not be the best in showing his affection for you, but when he does try, it’s always in the ways you least expect.’
☀︎|tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. fluff, slight angst, suggestive. subtly implied age gap (reader early 20’s, toji early 30’s). size difference. mentions of hickeys. reader gets called ‘princess / little girl.’ based on an anon request.
“am home.” toji announces under his breath after locking the front door. he kicks his shoes off and makes a beeline towards your shared bedroom. as expected, you were there, body wrapped in a thick blanket to protect it from the recently cold temperatures.
you smile and toji’s fatigue becomes nonexistent. it was like he hadn’t just fought for his life for almost two hours straight — making money to quite literally survive. and to provide for you in the best way he could.
“ah, hi, babe! welcome hom—” your sentence was cut short by a heavy weight settling down atop your chest. toji’s body presses you back into the mattress, big hands instantly searching for their desired destination; that being your waist.
his warm breath - the heavy sigh that carried his worries - instantly softens the look in your eyes. it was this vulnerable side of your lover that you adored most. it wasn’t a sight you got to see often after all.
toji wordlessly attaches his lips to your exposed neck as he withdraws the blanket from your body. even though he has yet to utter a single word to you, his actions told you all, “missed you, toji.”
he mumbles something incoherent in response which you could guess were words of acknowledgement. you were ticklish, your skin tingling with every peck left by the dark-haired man whom you loved dearly.
“were ya waitin’ for me?” toji’s voice was muffled, his mouth busy kissing and sucking your skin. his rough fingers move under your clothes and run up to your shoulders—freeing them from the straps of your top.
you tilt your head to the right so he could gain more access to your skin. you didn’t protest nor said anything about toji’s sudden display of affection. you rub his back and allow a hum of satisfaction to escape your throat, “mhm. was waiting for you all night.”
your voice sounds like a soothing lullaby to the older man. a heavy breath leaves his lips and his sloppy kisses on your neck and shoulder blades abruptly come to a halt.
toji rests his head in the crook of your neck. the pad of his thumb travels up and down the marks he had left—his saliva subtly glistening under the light from the bedside lamp.
“tsk. i told ya not to stay up f’me, princess.” your lover grumbles with his tired eyes half-closed, fingers not stopping their rubbing motion, “but i guess there’s no point in tellin’ you that right now.”
toji still can’t understand why you go to great lengths to show your love for him. he’s a cold hearted assassin, a man whom is feared by many including his own clan and yet you love him unconditionally.
despite it all — he still appreciates the fact that you stay up to welcome him home. even if he may not directly show that said appreciation.
“‘i told ya not to stay up for me,’” you teasingly mimic toji’s deep voice and can only laugh at your own antics afterwards. however, a sudden pinch to your side makes you squirm and yelp. it didn’t stop there; toji took the opportunity whilst you were caged underneath him to remind you of who’s boss.
soon enough your high pitched squealing and broken giggles is all the noise that fills the room.
“whadd’ya say there, little girl?” toji grunts as he blocks your futile attempts to escape. he could see the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, your body writhing around the best it could and your little hands trying desperately to push him away.
you shake your head and continuously apologise between loud giggles, vision blurry from the tears of joy. there’s a triumphant smirk on toji’s face once he notices how quickly you gave up your act of confidence, “heh, that’s what i thought.”
one of his hands gathers both of your wrists and effortlessly pins them above your head. with a grin, your lover kisses his way down to your neck again — this time being more passionate.
you take the chance to calm yourself down, chest still heaving with each breath. a pout forms on your lips, but was swiftly replaced by a content smile due to the giddy feeling in your chest.
it’s playful moments like these that remind you of the many reasons why you’ve fallen in love with a man like toji. to others, he might be nothing but a monster—a ruthless and cruel individual—but to you, he’s everything you need and vice versa.
toji’s lips were soft, yet lightly rough to the touch. they’re chapped from the cold temperature he had to withstand when he was outside. you felt bad; you had been laying in bed all night, wrapped up in multiple blankets whilst your lover was quietly suffering.
you know that if you tell toji your current worries, he’ll brush it off with a simple ‘tha’s just how it is’ or a ‘don’t worry ‘bout stuff like that’. still, you cannot help but be concerned about the way he easily disregards his own health.
“toji,” you call out his name as his kisses reach the curve of your breasts. the older man lifts his head in response, eyebrows slightly raised at the sound of his name leaving your lips.
you push down the lump in your throat. your warm hands cup his face and you could feel his stubble prickling your palms. you lower your gaze to the rest of his body — finally getting a good look at his worn out physique.
there were faint droplets of blood hidden right under the collar of his shirt. ones toji probably forgot to wipe away after his mission. his black shirt clings to his torso, the dark spots of sweat subtly evident and the small tears in the fabric proof of his hard work.
you could care less about the fact that toji hadn’t taken a shower before cuddling with you. the first thing he did when stepping into the apartment, was to search for you. that alone told you enough: he needed the comfort your presence brings him — he just didn’t know how to convey that message.
“kiss me.” you whisper and your lover immediately complies with zero hesitation; that’s exactly what he had waited for you to say. his lips crash down onto yours, his large hands hold you by your waist and his tongue brushes against yours like it was the first and last time you’d kiss.
toji’s breath hitches the moment he feels you tenderly scratch his arms with your nails. you always do that to calm his nerves after a stressful day—grazing the tips of your nails back and forth against his bare skin. and it works wonders each time.
“fuck,” the dark-haired man curses in a low tone. his grip tightens on your body and his lips detach from yours. you notice the look in his eyes once he opens them; the look of pure love for you, “i missed you so much — so fuckin’ much.”
you softly giggle at his passionate words and steal another kiss from him before settling back against the pillows. your hands travel upwards to play with his damp hair whilst your legs wrap around his waist.
toji gladly accepts your affection and settles down on top of your body again, careful not to completely crush you with his weight. his face was buried between your breasts, taking in the familiar scent of you which calms him down even more.
“i’m glad you’re back home.” you whisper lovingly whilst continuing to massage his scalp. your tired lover answers with a curt nod and a sigh — this time one of content instead of exhaustion.
“yeah, home.” toji wasn’t referring to your shared apartment. he was referring to you; his forever home. there was an overwhelming amount of love in his heart for you and only you.
if only he could properly express those feelings to you. if only he could express himself.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk fluff#jjk x you#toji x you#toji fluff#jjk x y/n#toji x y/n#female reader
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Content: domestic Simon ''Ghost'' Riley, husband!Simon, massages, fluff, A LOT of ass smacks because this man has a whole ass bakery.
Simon sat quietly next to you on the couch, mind reeling with the stress from the mission he just came back from, gaze distant and focused on staring ahead. You know better than to take it personal, aware that he simply needs time to unwind and process he's back home, safe and sound.
''Would you like a massage?'' You offer with a small smile, noticing how his muscles seem more tense than usual, bulging out of his clothes even more. He's quiet for a few seconds before looking at you, managing to return a half-smile and nod in agreement. Your hands hold his, trying to pull him out of the couch and being unable to— the asshole is making himself heavier on purpose, a smug smirk painting his lips at the thought of annoying his wife.
You pull harder, grunts escaping your lips because he's just too damn heavy.
''Simon.'' One stern look is all it takes for him to willingly get up from the couch, playfully swatting your head out of the way before running away once you try to kick his ass, running right after him while a small laugh escapes your lips. You crash on his back, purposely pushing him face-down in bed before smacking his ass, dragging a quiet, muffled laugh out of him.
You remove his muddy boots, helping him get out of his clothes until he's stripped down to his boxers, still laying face-down in bed, trusting you completely with his body. You get a bottle of massage oil from the closet, landing another playful slap on his rear before straddling him, sitting on his ass as you began spreading the oil all over his back. He let out a grunt at the spank, but didn't bother protesting, too distracted by the sensation of the cold oil being spread all over his tense muscles.
Your hands work wonders soon after, kneading and applying pressure on every single one of his muscles, slowly getting rid of the knots and tension in his body. He laid in bed with his head turned to the side, eyes closed as he relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of your hands working over his muscles, low moans leaving his lips sometimes at the pressure applied on his back muscles.
20 minutes is all it took to get rid of most of the knots on his back, planting a gentle kiss on the side of his head before giving him another one on the cheek, getting a grunt in response from the half-asleep man.
''I love you.'' You whisper in his ear, using the leftover oil on your hand to massage his bicep.
''I love you too, sweet girl.'' He manages to reply, voice groggy and deeper as he tried to stay awake to spend more time with you. A small giggle leaves your lips when you see his struggle, getting off of him and jokingly playing bongos on his ass, looking at the muscle and fat giggling underneath your touch.
''God, your ass is so perfect.'' Your tone is playful, but he's no stranger to you worshipping his body, a small smile on his lips at your words.
''S'all yours.'' He mumbles sweetly, voice still gravelly and coarse as he allowed you to do as you pleased with him. Another gently spank is delivered to his ass before you lean down, biting one of his asscheeks— not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough for him to feel it. His muscles twitch from the sudden sensation before he relaxes, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he turns to look at you with a smug grin.
A/N: I don't wanna kms anymore so here's some tender Simon instead of angst
#cod mw2#cod mwii#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost cod#simon ghost x reader#call of duty#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#husband!ghost#husband!simon ghost riley#mw2 ghost#ghost#ghost x f!reader#ghost x reader#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#ghost x female reader#wife!reader#mw2 x reader#mw2 fanfic#mw2 2022#cod#cod modern warfare#mw2 smut#ghost call of duty#ghost fanfiction#ghost mw3#mw3
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All Too Well, Wife .ᐟ (Ten Minute Version)
Viktor x Fem! Wife! Reader
In which, Viktor has a small photo of you in his pocket. Every time he looks at it, he remembers it all too well.
"Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known. It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well."
a/n: In loving memory of my beloved Eras Tour. I was watching the live stream while writing this...
Warning: angst, mentions of death (reader), sad Viktor, illness, yap yap
_⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆_
_⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆_
Today, as Viktor sat in the stillness of his dimly lit room, an unsettling wave washed over him, making his stomach churn. The silence felt oppressive, like a tangible weight pressing down on his chest. Turning his gaze to the bedside table, he spotted a framed photograph of you—one of the very few he cherished. Regret gnawed at him; he wished he had captured more moments, but you always shied away from the camera, insisting on avoiding the lens. Now, as fleeting memories began to swirl in his mind, he could almost hear your familiar voice teasing him to stop documenting every little thing. A small, sad sigh escaped his lips, and he fought with the urge to chuckle at the memory.
He leaned closer to the nightstand, drawn to your photo as if it were a lifeline in the ocean of his loneliness. The sight of your radiant smile had a soothing effect, temporarily easing the tension that had built up in his shoulders. In that snapshot of joy, he could almost hear your laughter echoing through the room, enveloping him in warmth. “Damn it…” he murmured under his breath, running a hand over his face, struggling to push away the mix of nostalgia and sorrow that gripped him. He set aside his cane, allowing himself to lie back on the mattress, feeling the familiar weight of emptiness settle in. “It’s so quiet without you, you know?” he whispered, stealing glances at your picture again, seeking solace in its presence.
Viktor had grown so accustomed to your incessant chatter and quick-witted retorts that the current silence felt utterly unbearable. It echoed around him, filled only with the painful remnants of memories, and he loathed it. Each second in this void seemed to stretch into eternity, filled with the agonizing truth that you were no longer there to fill the space. Frustration bubbled within him until he groaned loudly and pressed his hands over his eyes, wishing for a distraction from the reality he had to face.
After what felt like an eternity—though it had only been five minutes—he finally mustered the strength to sit up again. His fingers reached out instinctively for your photo, brushing against the smooth glass that guarded it. In that moment, it felt as though he were reaching out to touch your warm, living skin again. But then, the haunting memory of that horrid night surged back, the memory of your cold, lifeless body sending a shiver down his spine. He recoiled as if burned, his breath hitching in his throat. “What I would do… just to touch you again,” he whispered vulnerably, gingerly placing your picture back on the bedside table and trying to regain his composure.
_⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆_
Viktor then leaned his cheek against the palm of his hand, his eyes fixated on a small photograph of you that he had slipped into his pocket earlier. When you were still alive, you were always by his side, refusing to leave him alone whenever you had the chance. He made it a point to carry your photo wherever he went; he didn't want anyone at the Academia to discover it. No one knew about your marriage or the sorrow of your death, and Viktor had intended to keep it that way… or so he thought.
He believed he was alone in this moment of vulnerability, having just watched Jayce leave not long before. But without his knowledge, Jayce had lingered nearby, peeking over his shoulder at the photo—a snapshot so full of life that it drew anyone’s attention. “Who’s that? She’s pretty,” Jayce’s voice cut through Viktor's reverie, startling him out of his daze. Viktor froze, his muscles tensing instinctively, and he hastily shoved the picture down onto the desk. “It’s rude to sneak up on people,” he snapped, furrowing his brows at Jayce in irritation.
Jayce raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by Viktor’s sudden outburst. “I’m just teasing,” he responded, leaning back casually and shoving his hands into his pockets. “But seriously, who was that?” His tone shifted to genuine curiosity, tilting his head inquisitively. Viktor remained silent, his gaze dropping away from Jayce's knowing eyes. “Just an… old friend,” he eventually replied, leaning back in his chair, fully aware that his words felt inadequate. Jayce certainly sensed the lie; their friendship had been built on trust over many years.
“Right,” Jayce said, nodding slowly and making his way over to the other side of the lab, leaving Viktor to sit in the wake of his defensive emotions.
With a sigh he hadn’t realized he was holding, Viktor’s body began to relax once more as he stole another glance at your smiling photo. Nervously, he shoved the picture back into his pocket, acutely aware of how deep and vulnerable his feelings were. He hated the thought of Jayce knowing about you, about the love they had shared.
_⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆_
“I’m sorry,” he muttered softly, kneeling before your gravestone later that evening, his heart heavy with guilt. “Jayce saw you.” He traced his fingers over the cool grass beneath him, feeling the earth’s weight beneath his fingertips. “I know you wanted me to talk about you, but…” His voice trailed off, giving way to the silence that had settled around him. “You know how I feel about that, dear.” He pulled your photo out of his pocket once more, his eyes scanning it as if it were a precious artifact from a time long gone. “He even called you pretty,” he reminisced, tilting his head back slightly to remember the way your laughter had danced through the air.
His thoughts drifted further back as he recalled how Jayce had inquired about the ring on his finger, a gift that symbolized their bond. “I said it was a gift. I hope you aren’t upset with that,” he said, glancing away from the gravestone, aware of how you had once scolded him for insisting it was just a present. A wave of longing washed over him, and he wished more than anything to relive those days, when smiles were abundant and love was an unending presence. He missed you more than he could articulate, and the ache in his heart felt as fresh as it did the night you were taken from him. He remembers it all too well.
_⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆_
#x you#oneshot#angst#arcane#viktor x reader#viktor#arcane viktor#arcane viktor x reader#reader insert#arcane angst#viktor arcane
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How you get the girl
He knows how ironic this is. He is Sukuna, the guy who is known to always wear a smug smirk on his tattoed face and have a snide remark ready at all times. And yet, when you stand in front of him and confess your feelings to him, he is at a total loss for what to do.
Aka Sukuna is a lovesick mess who fucks things up on the first try because being open about his feelings is really not his strength but then makes up for it again.
Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff, College AU Word Count: 1.9k Warnings: Light angst with a happy ending. Sukuna struggles with opening up about his feelings. Kissing. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact.
"And that's why...I mean, what I want to say is, I love you, Sukuna."
You stand in front of him, wringing your hands nervously after saying all those sweet things about him that he never knew he was, and look up at him with a hopeful look in your pretty eyes. And Sukuna feels like he has been hit by a truck as he stares at you with wide maroon eyes and his heart hammering in his chest.
He knows how ironic this is. He is Sukuna, the star player of the basketball team, the popular asshole who gets invited to every party, the guy with the bad boy reputation, who is known to always wear a smug smirk on his tattoed face and have a snide remark ready at all times. And yet, when you stand in front of him and confess your feelings to him, he is at a total loss for what to do.
There are a lot of things going through his head. A lot of things he could confess to you. Like how much he likes spending time with you. Or that he thinks about your smile all day. Or that he likes how you laugh about his jokes and always play along when he says something teasing.
He knows he should be honest and tell you how weirdly full his chest feels when he holds you and that he likes it so much how you fit so perfectly into his arms and against his tall, muscular body. That it makes him want to protect you and care for you, just like the way you care for him so lovingly. He knows he could tell you that you are always his last thought before he falls asleep and the first one when he wakes up.
But he doesn't do any of that. He is frozen somehow. This big bad guy, who is always so loud and confident, is standing there staring at you with wide maroon eyes, nervously pushing his tongue piercing against the back of his incisors while he tries to think of what to say to you.
It's too much, too intense. He is good at flirting. He is good at kissing and fucking and sweet talk. But he isn't good at this!
Sukuna opens his mouth only to close it again, unable to put this overwhelming whirlwind of feelings into words. Or maybe it's not even that. Maybe it's not that he doesn't know what to say, but rather that everything he would say right now would feel too honest, too raw, and that is something that scares him. He has always been the rough one, the one who wears a mask of arrogance and indifference that lets him hide how he really feels.
Maybe that is why all he manages to say is,
"Thank you, princess."
He sees your face fall and hears a shaky breath escape your lips. You try to mask your disappointment, lips lifting in a forced smile as you back away from him with shiny eyes.
"You're welcome... I ... I will just go then. Bye, Sukuna."
He has never felt as helpless as when he stands there with his hands balled into fists as he watches you turn around and leave hastily.
He tries to pretend this moment never happened, tries to tell himself he did nothing wrong. It's fine. His reaction was a normal one. Things will be ok. You will come up to him tomorrow and roll your eyes and tease him about how he stood there like an idiot, and he will laugh and pull you against him and tell you that your beauty left him speechless and that, of course, he feels the same!
But that doesn't happen.
He doesn't see you anywhere in the next few days. There are no texts from you either. You're avoiding him, aren't you? Your friends send death glares his way when he passes them in the hallway.
He loses track of how often he pulls his phone out of the back pocket of his skinny jeans, just for his fingers to hover over your last message to him, unable to find the courage to type something.
The new episode of your favorite show airs tonight. He watches it. Of course, he does. He always does, even though he finds it boring and thinks the actors are super bad. But he watches it because you like it, and so he can talk to you about it. But tonight, you aren't in his bed to watch with him, and you aren't texting him about it either.
So Sukuna grabs his phone and finally texts you. He sends text message after text message all through the episode, commenting on the newest scandal and on the outfits of the main characters.
He doesn't get a reply.
On the fourth day, he sits in the living room with his brother, playing video games and losing round after round because his mind is too occupied with missing you and stressing about why he did what he did. And suddenly, he can't stop himself from throwing the controller on the floor and blurting out,
"I fucked up."
Yuuji looks at him with a questioning look,
"Do you mean in the game or something else? Are you in trouble?"
And Sukuna laughs gruffly and hides his face in his hands as he shakes his head. Luckily, his brother is persistent and doesn't leave him alone. The brat bugs him until Sukuna finally spills it out,
"She told me she loves me."
He doesn't even have to say your name. Yuuji knows. Of course, he does. He blinks at Sukuna in confusion.
"And what is the problem? That is amazing news!"
"I said thank you."
The seconds tick away, and Yuuji stares at him as if waiting for him to say more. Sukuna huffs and shakes his head before he adds,
"That's all. I thanked her... and then she left."
"What do you mean you thanked her, Kuna? What the fuck!? That isn't an acceptable way to reply to a love confession!"
"As if I don't know that! I... shit, I didn't know what to say! I was overwhelmed!"
He glares at his twin, desperation turning him into a hot, angry mess. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. He should grab his gym bag and go lift some weights and hit a punching bag until he is too exhausted to think!
But Yuuji's voice stops him.
"But.. but don't you like her? You looked so happy with her."
"Of course I do! I like her a lot."
He hates how soft his voice becomes when he says the last part. He hates how weak he feels when he feels his mask slip and knows he isn't able to hide the pain in his heart.
But luckily, this is Yuuji, his twin, the brat that has been practically attached to his hip ever since he was born three minutes after Sukuna. It's ok if he sees Sukuna like that. This is the little brother who loves Sukuna no matter what shitty situation he gets himself into. The brother who is so much better at being open about his feelings. The brother who isn't scared to tell him off when Sukuna does something stupid.
"When what are you still doing here, you idiot? Get the fuck up and go to her and talk to her! I will throw you out and lock the door! I am serious, Kuna! You only come back here after you made things ok again with your girl!"
It's ridiculous that he needs his younger brother to kick his ass and tell him what to do. It's absolutely pathetic that he jogs through the rain in the middle of the night to buy a huge bouquet of red roses and then bangs on your door with his pink hair dripping wet and his soaked-through white t-shirt sticking to his abs uncomfortably.
But maybe it's good to be pathetic sometimes because you don't slam the door into his face but look at him with a hopeful expression on your face and a soft,
"Hey, Sukuna."
He doesn't give a fuck anymore at that point. He doesn't care that he is standing in a small puddle of rainwater dripping down from his wet clothes. He doesn't care that his hand trembles when he pushes the roses into your arms. He doesn't care if the whole dorm hears him when he says,
"I am sorry! I was an idiot. You said all those sweet things to me, and in my head were so many things I wanted to tell you too, but I messed up."
He runs a large hand through his wet hair and slicks it back again, looking at you with eyes that glitter suspiciously, but he can blame it on the rain sticking to his long lashes,
"I like you too. Every minute with you was the best I ever had. I see your face in my mind all the time. Last week, I started laughing in the middle of the grocery store because I remembered something funny you said to me. I messed up my last exam because I was too distracted thinking about how your hand feels in my hair. I only feel ok when you are next to me because if you are not there, I feel like there is a crucial part of me missing. I know I suck at talking about my feelings, but that doesn't mean I don't have a hundred thousand of them when it comes to you, and all of them are fucking good and intense and drive me crazy and... I just.. fuck, I love you, princess. I love you, and I am so sorry!"
He feels out of breath, maybe from running through the rainy streets or maybe from letting out all of those words that make him feel so fucking vulnerable when being vulnerable was the one thing he always tried to avoid at all costs.
But there is this happy smile on your face. The smile he missed so damn much. And he knows it was worth it that he ran through the rain and spilled his heart out in the staircase of your dorm.
It was all worth it because you take a step towards him with happy tears in your eyes and a soft,
"Oh, Kuna."
And the next thing he knows is you are in his arms again, your warm body pressing tightly against his, not caring about his wet clothes. Your arms wrap around his neck, and your fingers play with the short hair of his undercut, making him let out a soft sigh. And you get on your tiptoes to kiss him right when he wraps his tattoed arms around your waist and pulls you even closer.
He can hear loud cheers and applause coming from somewhere in the staircase, but he really doesn't give a fuck anymore who heard his love confession. The whole world can know how he feels about you. He will shout it from the rooftop and punch everyone in the face who has a problem with it, if it means he can hold you again and kiss you and feel your smile against his lips.
I made myself cry thinking about this scene and then I HAD to write it aaaaah. I am so weak when Sukuna is a mess, it just makes me want to hug him and ruffle his hair and never let him go again. I am obsessed I think.
Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it and that you are weak for this mess of a boy too ;)
Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.
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Puppy love
middle school kirishima x middle school popular! reader
Kirishima, a social outcast who barely anyone knows has a crush on a popular girl. He has barely any chance, right?
warning: a bit of angst mostly fluff also your supposed to be shorter then him in this
a/n I THOUGHT THIS WOULD BE ADORABLE! I LOVE LOVE LOVE KIRISHIMA
Kirishima always admired you, always. Since he started middle school he would watch you from afar and just think about how pretty you were, how adorable you were. But as the months ticked on, you became popular and soon enough you were out of his reach.
kirishimas friends always laughed at him for liking you since you would never date him! Or… so they thought.
You whined and tried to drown out Mina's relentless teasing. "Really? Kirishima? The one with the hardening quirk? Awww, that's so cute!" she exclaimed, hopping around with excitement. Her voice echoed through the hallway, drawing unwanted attention. In a panic, you shot up from your seat and quickly covered her mouth, your eyes darting around to see if Kirishima was nearby. "Shut up!!!" you hissed, your face burning with embarrassment. You could feel Mina's laughter against your hand as she continued to giggle.
You blushed and covered your face, hiding the redness of your cheeks. Mina giggled again “hey! It’s no big deal! He’s tall! And he’s cute!” You pushed her chest “back up!” Your possessiveness over him came out. Mina laughed “your down bad!” She grabbed your shoulders and shook you with with excitement.
You and Mina walked down the halls, you could sense someone staring at you. You turned to see who it was, only to make awkward eye contact with eijiro kirishima! You both blushed and looked away, you could hear the deep laughter of kirishimas friends which made the embarrassment soo much worse. Mina smiled brightly and wrapped her arm around you “one day! He’ll ask you out! I know it!”
if only he’d ask you out…..
Mina stomped over, a grumpy look on her pink face. "Kirishima!" she yelled, trying to get the boy's attention. Kirishima turned to look at her, worry etched on his face. Was he in trouble? What had he done? What if she jumped him?
"I gotta ask you something," she said firmly.
"O-okay…?" he stuttered in response.
"Do you or do you not like name?" she demanded, grabbing his shoulders to prevent him from escaping the question.
"W-w-w-wha? N-no!" he stammered.
"Bullshit," came a voice from behind. Kirishima's friend stepped in. "He's in love with her. I'd say it's puppy love, but he literally adores her every body part. It's kinda creepy," his friend whispered the last part.
"Hey!" Kirishima yelped, his face turning crimson.
"Oh thank God!" Mina sighed in relief, her tense shoulders relaxing.
Kirishima's eyebrows shot up in confusion. "Wha-?"
"Nothing!" Mina blurted, and with that, she turned and ran away.
Now kirishima had a reason to believe that you liked him back, his determination to win you over becoming stronger. One random Tuesday, a hand taps you on the shoulder. You turn to face whosever this was, only to come face to face with kirishima “oh.. hey!” You managed to get out from the initial shock “hey.. Uhm” he stuttered “do.. do you know who I am?” “Eijiro kirishima” you blurted out almost immediately “I mean.. your kirishima? Right?” You tried to fix yourself up, tucking a lock behind your ear. Kirishimas eyebrows raised from the fact you so easily knew his name, most people barely knew him and if they did they were his friends and he only had about 5 friends in the whole school. “Yeah.. I am” he smiled.. he smiled a genuine smile. Showing off his sharp teeth “woah.. your teeth are sharp!” You looked surprised and shuffled closer to him so you could get a good look at his teeth. Kirishimas face turned pink “h-h-h-hey b-bit close there..” he didn’t try to back away however.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" you said, backing away. In the distance, you could see Mina grinning from ear to ear. You then looked back at Kirishima. "So… what can I help you with?" you asked, smiling sweetly and trying to act natural.
"U-uh, t-this… flower… it made me think of you," he stammered, quickly handing you a pink tulip that he had clearly found in the school garden.
"Oh, Kirishima, thank you!" you said, genuinely moved by his gift.
"N-no problem…" he mumbled, standing there awkwardly, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Kirishima inhaled deeply, trying to settle his nerves. When he exhaled, he looked down at you and blurted out, "Gee… you're a bit short." His cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red.
"Hey! That's not fair—you’re just tall!" you whined, crossing your arms in mock anger.
Mina seemed more than pleased with what was unfolding before her eyes. "I-I’m sorry! I-it’s just you are small! It's not a big deal!" Kirishima stammered, trying to comfort you after inadvertently insulting you.
You turned around, facing away from him, pouting in exaggerated anger. Kirishima sighed and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry…"
Your face flushed pink again as you turned to face him. "It's fine… just… don't do it again!" you whined, unable to stay mad at him.
Kirishima chuckled and nodded. "Okay, I won't. Promise."
You blushed again, feeling the warmth of his presence. He seemed so sincere, so kind, and his touch was so warm that it made your heart race.
suddenly the bell interrupted your interaction. You sighed in disappointment “well.. see you later?” Yiu looked up at him hopefully, he blushed and his face lit up “yeah.. see ya”
over the next few days you and kirishima spent more and more time together, often finding ways to run off from your friends and hang out.
One day, you waited for all your friends to run off and do other stuff just so you could sneak away and run in the direction were you and kirishima normally met up. You had gotten his message to signify that he was there so you knew where he was. You giggled and jumped onto the boys back, he yelped in surprise “hey *name*!” he said with a chuckle, patting your thigh as he bent his knees you help you slide down “let’s go to the cafeteria! They have pizza today and I REALLY WANT SOMEE” you insisted “I dunno… maybe I just wanna chill” he mumbled, tilting his head for you to follow him.
you two began walking through the court yard, talking and joking around. He seemed happier but more nervous than usual. The occasional stutter turning into a more frequent stammer. You just thought it was all the hormones of being 14, suddenly when kirishima brought you to a more… private place. He sighed “*name* I need to ask you something” he said with a determined look on his face “yeah? What’s up?” You asked, tilting your head to the side
“will you… will you be my girlfriend?!” He blurted out loudly, his fists curling up in nervousness. Your whole face turned pink “r-really? Yeah! Yeah I will!” You squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck, he blushed and sighed in relief. Kirishima placed his hands around your waist, you two hugging each other.
“AWWW GUYS!” Mina squealed, turns out she had followed you “SHUT UP.” You two screamed and you hid your face in his chest.
a year later
Now a days things are a little less awkward, you even got to share a dorm after convincing aizawa to let you guys. You rolled over in bed and buried your face in the crook of kirishimas neck “hey Bub” he said as he grabbed your thigh and brought it up to his hip. “Comfy?” He murmured and kissed your forehead, his warm lips pressed against your skin “mhm.. yeah..” you ran your fingers through his freshly re dyed red hair.
“I love you”
“I love you too kiri”
#bnha eijiro kirishima#eijiro kirishima#eijiro x reader#eijiro x katsuki#kirishima eijiro x reader#kirishima x you#lisa frankenstein fanfic#kirishima x reader#mha#bnha#kirishima fanfic#eijiro kirishima x reader#Kirishima one shot#Eijiro kirishima fluff#bakusquad#mina ashido#kirishima x reader fluff#ua high school#mha fanfic#bnha fanfic#bnha kirishima#mha kirishima#mha x reader#my hero academia fanfiction#fanfiction#fluff#fanfic#bnha fluff#kirishima eijirou#hes so manly guys
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THE TIDES OF US | JJK
Oneshot
pairing: firstlove!jungkook x firstlove!(f.)reader
synopsis: returning to Busan was never meant to be anything more than temporary. but when you’re faced with the boy who shaped your heart and engraved his initials upon it, are you able to pick up where you left off or will the tides of Busan wash away everything you once knew?
w/c: 8.6k
warnings: first love reunited, angst, angst snd some more angst, coffeeshopowner!jk, two dummies who apparently can’t communicate!, eventual smut (just one scene!), titty appreciation, unprotected sex (dont be silly!!), yummy make outs, crying :(, actually no! sobbing!, so many questions, matchalover!reader, both 22!!!, um um um, jjk has a shaggy mullet bc i cant help myself!!!, too many emotions that both characters r overwhelmed by! i think thats it lol idk, enjoy pls <3 mwah
!minorsdni!
It had been a total of 1614 days since you last walked through the city of Busan. Four years and six long months since your parents had uprooted your lives and moved to London after an opportunity to expand your father’s company at the age of 18.
The sun warms your skin, the scent of sea salt lingers in the air. It's all familiar, yet somehow all so foreign.
Passing by street food stalls where you once spent your last bits of change, benches where you watched sunsets over the sea with your first love, and photobooth stands you’d drag them into at every chance. It was all so familiar, yet distant, flooding you with a wave of emotions—nostalgia, longing, and a twinge of sadness for how those days had slipped through your fingers, leaving only memories behind.
You find yourself frozen inside a beachfront café, convinced the sun has given you heatstroke and that this is just a hallucination. It couldn’t be him. There’s no way.
A tall, doe-eyed boy stands across from you, one arm adorned with intricate tattoos, a shaggy mullet framing his chiseled face. He’s frozen too, staring right back at you.
“Jungkook?”
Jungkook watches as you approach the counter hesitantly, his gaze fixed on you. He wants to reach out, to touch you, to see if you’re really here—or if you’re just an illusion his brain conjured up after that extra cup of coffee today.
“Shit- No fuckin’ way? What the fuck?” Is all his pretty little lips that were now adorned with a silver ring could say. His brain was racing, eyes darting back and forth between yours.
“You speak to all your customers like that?” you say playfully, a small laugh escaping your lips.
The smile that forms on Jungkook’s lips is almost painful to see—his old bunny-like teeth on display, the way his nose scrunches and forms those little wrinkles just like it used to, and that little dimple that peeks out, the one he used to say was from all the kisses you pressed to his cheek.
“Still a smartass, huh?” Jungkook teases, biting the corner of his lip and toying with the metal ring.
You hum in response, words getting lost. You’d forgotten you were standing in line, the sight of Jungkook in front of you after so long making you forget the patrons waiting behind you.
“I’ll just take a—”
“Iced Matcha, hm?” Jungkook finishes your sentence, not meaning to, just an instinct. Back when the two of you were inseparable, you’d always push him to try it, but it never worked. He still didn’t like it—at least, not until you left. Now, he ordered it on the days when loneliness got the best of him, or when anniversaries would roll around, the ones that you used to spend hand in hand.
You take a seat at a nearby table, staring out the glass windows that frame the view of the beach. Your thoughts are scrambled, knots forming in your stomach from the situation at hand. It had only been 15 hours since you’d returned to Busan, and already the world felt like it was playing some sick joke on you. Torn between wondering if this was fate or if the universe was rubbing everything you had lost in your face.
A takeaway cup, adorned with a sleeve that reads ‘Golden Hour,’ is placed in front of you.
Your eyes meet Jungkook’s as he stands there, a tight, closed-lip smile on his face. He looks down at you, half-thinking he might actually pass out if you keep looking at him like that—eyes round and innocent, like nothing has changed. When you stand up, only inches away from him now, there’s no counter between you. He could reach out, touch you, and see if this is real—or just another one of his recurring dreams. He decides not to, not wanting to risk it and find out this is all just his subconscious fantasies playing out.
Your lips wrap around the straw, the sweet liquid filling your taste buds—just how you always liked it. Sweet, not too bitter, with extra whipped cream.
“Pretty fucking good,” you say.
It’s silent for a moment, neither of you sure what to say or do next.
“When did you get ba—”
“I should get goi—”
An awkward laugh escapes from both of you, hands fiddling with the straw in an attempt to keep busy, while Jungkook rubs the back of his neck.
“Yeah, of course, I should get back to it. Coffee won’t make itself,” Jungkook rambles. You nod, he nods. You give an awkward smile, and he mirrors it back to you. It’s all a little juvenile, reminding you of when you were both in high school—too awkward to communicate, too caught up in the butterflies that fluttered in both of your stomachs.
You thank him again, turning to leave and heading back out into the heat of Busan’s air. Half of you thinks you should ditch the drink and dive headfirst into the ocean, trying to rid yourself of the emotions bubbling inside you.
“Hey—” Jungkook catches up with you just before your hand touches the door to leave. “Can we—like, catch up? I finish at 8:30? If you want… I know you’re probably busy. Could do it another time. If you want—”
Jungkook had always been a rambler—he’d ramble on and on whenever he was nervous, excited, or hiding something. It was a habit you picked up on early in your relationship, a tell that always gave him away. His words would get all jumbled and his speed of speech would increase, right before he’d admit something weighing on his mind.
“Did you change your hair? Did you curl it? Or is that more of a wave? Is your hair naturally like that? Did you have to wake up early to do that? Sorry—I mean, you look pretty.”
“The waves are big today, right? Wonder why. Probably something to do with the moon or something. Hey—did you know that sometimes female crabs eat their own babies if they get too stressed? Shit, sorry. I’m in love you.”
“You’re leaving? Okay, well, London is nice, apparently. Did you know Big Ben isn’t the name of the tower, just the bell inside? Weird, right? Fuck, please, stay.”
“8:30? By the benches?”
Jungkook lets out a small breath of relief. He doesn’t need to ask you to specify which benches—there were plenty along the beachfront, but he knows exactly which one you mean. The same one where he first told you he loved you.
“8:30. Benches. Perfect.”
Your fingers scrolled mindlessly over your phone as you sit on the bench, your foot tapping lightly against your other foot out of nervousness as you wait for Jungkook.
Two hands come to cover your eyes from behind you, skin cool against your warm cheeks, “Boo!”
Your own hand attempts to reach behind you, blindly trying to swat Jungkook, “Little shit.” You giggle.
Jungkook laughs, and the sound fills the air like a familiar melody you didn’t know you missed so much. He lets his hands fall away, stepping in front of you with that trademark half smirk.
“Wanna go sit on the beach?” Jungkook smiled, he was dressed in an oversized black tee, matching baggy jeans to match, his apron that was tied around his waist a few hours prior long gone now, dressed so casually yet, eyes from anyone passing by would automatically be drawn to him.
He’d always been that way—the main attraction in any room he entered. Girls would swoon over his doe eyes and pretty smile, boys would try to replicate his style and confidence, and grandmas would pinch his cheeks and slip in a good word for their granddaughters. You’re sure the attention’s only grown since then. He’d shed that baby face, swapped it for a bad-boy look with tattoos and piercings, and it only seemed to suit him more. You’d bet the creator of Jeon Jungkook had spent extra time perfecting him, as if to apologise for all the other men they had created. There was only one Jeon Jungkook, and he stood before you now, cocking his head towards the beach, waiting for you.
You find a spot on the sand to sit, the small waves washing onto the shore not too far from the two of you. Your hands dig into the sand beside you, letting the soft sand pour from between your fingers.
“Didn’t know you were back. Are you?,” Jungkook asks softly, his own fingers dragging back and forth through the sand in front of him, “Are you back?”
You let out a small laugh, “For a little I guess. Dad’s got a project in Seoul, so I decided to join him. Staying in a hotel just over there.” Your forefinger points to the side a little lazily.
“So, not back?”
“Back for a little.” You counter.
Jungkook lets out a small laugh, “Does anyone know? Surely Jimin or Hobes would have told me.”
“Nah, it was a last minute thing, just got here last night.”
Jungkook hums in response, was a little bummed that you weren’t here for good. He had secretly hoped that you had moved back, found his café, and came to find him.
“Can’t believe you own a fucking Cafè Kook.” You spoke with pride, he had always said he would open his own one day, and you knew he would, just didn’t expect it to be at the age of 22.
Kook. The nickname rolls off your tongue so easily. It fucking punches him in the gut. He could barely handle making eye contact with you, or how your hands brushed against his when you took the cup of Matcha from him. But that? No that was too much, he loved when you would call him that. It always sounded so delicate, so sweet. Memories of you calling out to him when you would spot him at the exit of the subway, how when the two of you would argue you would still say it with a tone so gentle, or when you used to whisper it into his ear late at night when he wasn’t being as gentle with you.
“You look good,” Jungkook almost whispers, his eyes moving towards you. When your eyes meet his, he physically cannot look away, locked in, whether he likes it or not.
“Yeah?” You smirk, a light warmth rushing to your cheeks. “You look like absolute shite.” You bite your lower lip, fighting the laugh threatening to escape.
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Was tryna have a moment, you fuckin’ idiot.” He laughs, tossing some sand onto your lap as he shakes his head.
An hour passes, then two, then three. The two of you sit on the beach, a place that once defined the bond between you—where you spent the majority of your free time together. Holding hands as you walked the shoreline, chasing each other down the beach after one of you kicked cold water at the other unexpectedly.
Three hours lost in conversation, answering questions about London, Jungkook filling you in on the latest drama with your old friend group, reminiscing about the times you both shared.
“Did you get to meet the queen?”
“Remember when you got dunked by that wave and your fuckin’ swim shorts fell off?”
“Jimin is still a slut. Hoseok is still dancing. Joon owns a fuckin’ reading café with Jin—pricks are heavy competition.”
“You didn’t have to walk me all the way here” you giggle, fidgeting with the swipe card for your hotel room.
Jungkook scoffs, playfully. “Always have walked you home.” The glow from the lobby lights highlights his face, and you can’t help but notice the way his tongue toys with his lip ring. You know you should turn around, but that small action stirs something, turning the butterflies in your stomach into something more chaotic.
You hum, a soft laugh escaping. “Night, Kook.” You walk backward toward the door.
“Tomorrow. Don’t forget. Benches. Lunch.” He smirks, raising a brow.
You stop in the doorway, hesitating. “Goodnight” doesn’t feel like enough. Turning back, you catch him watching you, hands buried in his pockets, looking as if he’s watching you leave again, back to a place where he can’t follow you.
You walk toward him without thinking, wrapping your arms around his neck in an embrace that feels like slipping back into a dream. His hands find your waist instantly, like they’ve been searching for this moment just as long as you have. He holds you tight—too tight—but you don’t mind. Isn’t letting you slip away again.
His head tucks into the crook of your neck, and you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. The scent of his shampoo, the same one you used to lather into his hair during lazy mornings together, fills your senses. Your fingers tangle into the soft strands, and for a second, it’s like no time has passed at all.
It’s dangerous, how familiar this feels. How easily you could sink back into this, into him. The weight of four years, the ache of everything unsaid, presses against your chest. You’re not sure if this hug is healing you—or breaking you all over again. But right now, you don’t care. All that matters is him, here, holding you like he’s trying to rewrite the past.
Neither of you move. Neither of you speak. The silence feels fragile, like if one of you breathes too loudly, the moment will shatter. You close your eyes, trying to memorise the way this feels. The warmth. The safety.
“Fuck—I’ve missed you.” His voice is muffled, but you feel the words more than hear them. They vibrate against your skin, settling deep in your chest.
Your throat tightens. “Me too, Kook.” Your arms tighten around him, just for a moment. “So much.”
For a fleeting second, you allow yourself to believe that this could be enough—that holding him like this could somehow fix everything. But then his phone buzzes in his pocket, a sharp reminder that the world outside still exists. You feel him tense, the hesitation in his hold. And when you pull back, his hands linger for just a second too long, like he’s reluctant to let you go.
You meet his eyes, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. Just watch each other, silently wishing for the other to not leave.
“Goodnight,” you whisper.
It’s been 9 days of feeling the warmth of Busan’s sun kiss your skin. 9 days of savoring authentic food that you missed in London. 9 days of hearing the sound of Jungkook’s laughter fill your ears.
The last week has been nothing short of a dream you once wished for. Most of your days are spent beside Jungkook—revisiting your old hangout spots, splashing in the cool water of the beach, or even letting him try to teach you how to use his extremely overpriced coffee machine at his café.
Today was no different. You both left the café side by side, iced lattes in hand, no real destination in mind—just happy to be beside each other.
“Ah! Kook! Look! We have to go, we have to!” You beamed, your finger shaking toward a photobooth stand just a few meters away.
Jungkook doesn’t need to look to know exactly what you’re pointing at. He already knows—your excitement was always a dead giveaway whenever a photobooth was in sight. He’d let you drag him in, spend too much time taking way too many photos. Would never say no, he loved it too, capturing moments between the two of you, sometimes he would purposefully plan dates in locations he knew would have a photo booth close by.
He laughs softly, shaking his head, “You haven’t changed a single bit. You know that, right?”
“That’s not true,” you tease, “My tits have at least doubled in size.”
Jungkook’s face freezes for a moment, a slight heat creeping up his neck. He’d noticed. Hell, he’d caught himself staring more than once, but he always tried to focus on your eyes instead, failing most times, told himself you hadn’t noticed. You had.
You slap the brim of his black cap gently, snapping him out of his daze. “Hello? Stop thinking about my tits. Can we please?”
“Wasn’t thinking about your tits, freak,” he laughs, his cheeks flushed. “Go.”
You slide into the cramped photobooth after Jungkook, closing the curtain behind you. It was an older booth, no fancy filters or props for you to use. Two options; Colour or Black&White.
Jungkooks fingers pressed against the screen, knowing you preferred black and white.
The first few shots are a little awkward. A small space forcing you and Jungkook to enter one another’s space, you had one of your legs hooked over his thigh, one of his arms around your back to stop you from sliding off the metal seat of the booth.
“These are all ridiculous, my fuckin’ eyes are closed in half of them” Jungkook whines, flipping through the strips of photos. He wasn’t wrong, they mostly were of you both laughing or pulling some very unattractive face.
“Fine, one more. Proper one.” You smile, sitting a little straighter in the booth.
Jungkook presses the settings again. The countdown begins. Your head leans against his softly, both of you smiling.
Snap.
Jungkook looks at you, takes in your side profile, the way your hair falls so effortlessly around your face, the small lines that form around your eyes as you smile and laugh.
Your eyes turn to meet him, he almost looks pouty. Taking all of you in.
“What?”
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty. Still so fuckin’ gorgeous.” He whispers.
Your eyes widen slightly, lips resting ajar slightly ready to say something but no words form to escape. His teeth tug on his lower lip ever so slightly as his eyes search yours.
Snap.
It's silent, both of you searching in eachothers eyes for something, anything. You swallow lightly, your eyes dropping to his lips where his teeth tug slightly, his lip ring flipping and causing your stomach to flip in unison.
His hand around your back moves to the side of your jaw, his thumb caressing over your cheek so softly you can only just feel it. You move in closer, your lips inches from his. Need this. Need you. Kiss me please.
Jungkook’s eyes shift to your lips, and his breath hitches for just a second. The usual confidence he carries falters, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. His hand, resting near your cheek, twitches, as if torn between pulling you closer or pulling himself away. The silence between you stretches, heavy with unspoken words, but his eyes lock with yours again, and before either of you can think, his lips are on yours.
Snap.
Whatever thoughts had been running through his mind were quickly discarded. His lips crash against yours, you freeze for a moment, before your lips begin to work in partnership with his.
It doesn’t take long for Jungkook’s tongue to softly run against your lower lip, seeking entrance. When he’s met with your lips parting as an invitation he wastes no time. His tongue slides against yours, the way they work together makes it feel like no time has passed at all. So in tune with one another, knowing exactly what each other needs, exactly how one another like it.
The kiss grows heavier, soft grunts, light tugs of teeth against lips, pulling each other closer. No care for anyone passing by or if the curtain had moved. All either of you cared about was savouring this moment. Becoming one. Fuling eachothers fires.
Snap.
The faint sound of the photostrip being printed faded into the background, a distant reminder of the world outside. Neither of you moved, lips still entwined, reliving the taste of what once was. Touches so frantic yet familiar, hands grasping like they were afraid to let go, like holding tighter could stop time.
This was home.
Not a place, not a city—but this feeling. Safe, consuming, and so full of passion. London never offered that to you. And Jungkook lost the feeling of Busan being home as soon as you boarded that plane four years ago. But right here, in each other’s arms, it all made sense again. Like coming back to something that was always yours.
It isn’t until Jungkook’s phone starts to ring, the vibration rattling loudly in his pocket, that the moment shatters. His forehead rests against yours, as he lets out a quiet hiss of frustration.
“Fuck—sorry,” he mutters, eyes still half-lidded, voice low. “It’s probably work. I should take it.”
It’s not the first time his phone has stolen him away. You’d noticed it all week—calls that made him step aside, texts that pulled his attention mid-conversation. You told yourself it was just work, the demands of running a business.
Jungkook lingers a second longer, his hand brushing your knee as if reluctant to leave, before he finally slips out of the booth, leaving you alone with the aftertaste of a kiss that had ignited a fire that had been yearning for a flame for years.
You take the photos, pausing for a moment to flick through the dozen strips of memories captured on film.
Stepping outside, your eyes squint as they adjust to the bright sunlight above the beachfront. You scan the area, looking for any sign of Jungkook. It doesn’t take long before you spot him by a small gift shop, his fingers absentmindedly tracing over little beach-themed trinkets and keychains—miniature waves, seashells, and beach umbrellas.
“Everything okay?” you ask, stepping up beside him. Your fingers instinctively start to trace over the small ornaments, though your mind is still replaying the moments his lips were pressed against yours.
He slides his phone back into his pocket, offering you a soft glance before letting out a small sigh, which he quickly masks with a chuckle.
“Yeah, all good. Work,” he mutters, his lips tugging into a half smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry, again.”
You smile lightly, dismissing it with a wave of your hand. “It’s fine, Kook. Really.”
Then, with a small tilt of your head, you give him a silent cue to follow you. You turn and start making your way back along the strip.
He follows beside you, his usual confident, bubbly persona dulled slightly. His hands don’t reciprocate the small touches yours give him, and his laugh comes out flatter than usual.
It ties your stomach in knots. Maybe the kiss was a bad idea. Maybe he’d already come to regret it—scared of being left by you again, or maybe he’d come to the conclusion that you just weren’t his cup of coffee anymore.
His feet follow for a few steps, but then he falls behind again. “Shit, I’m sorry.” His eyes meet yours as you turn to face him, tilting your head slightly in confusion. “I gotta go take care of some stuff back at the café.”
“Oh. Yeah, no, of course,” you smile, though it feels strained. When Jungkook sees the corner of your lips upturn, he thinks he can physically feel his heart twist. “I get it, go.”
Jungkook goes to speak but bites down on his lower lip to stop himself. He lets out a quiet huff of breath through his nose before making his way toward you.
His long, muscular arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head. “Tomorrow? We’ll go to that hotpot place you used to froth over.”
His lips are gentle as they press a kiss to your forehead, and his hand holds your cheek as he gives you one last look before turning to head back to the cafè.
You wandered through the city, your feet tracing the familiar paths, but nothing felt quite the same. Every turn you took, every glance you stole at the places you had once visited with Jungkook, only deepened the ache in your chest. The weight of the kiss—the heaviness of the aftermath.
Jungkook’s absence was noticeable. The way he’d distanced himself after the kiss, the way he’d pulled back, had left you questioning everything. Was it something you imagined? Maybe he didn’t feel the same. Maybe for him, it was just a fleeting moment, a mistake.
You’re overthinking this, you told yourself. Maybe he just needs time. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m just reading too much into it. But deep down, you knew you couldn’t leave it like this.
The thought of leaving things unanswered felt wrong. You couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine when you felt like something wasn’t. You needed to know if he had regretted it, or if he had changed his mind. The idea of him slipping away without ever acknowledging what had passed between you was something you couldn’t stomach.
With a deep breath, you turned towards the café. You didn’t know what to expect, but you knew you had to go. For closure, for peace, or maybe just to hear his side. You told yourself it wasn’t about getting back what you once had, but about understanding what this all meant now.
The small bell above the door chimes as you step into the café. It’s lively, filled with groups of friends and couples, some snapping photos of their colorful drinks and beach themed pastries, others simply enjoying the ocean view that stretches out in front of them.
“Hi, welcome to Golden Hour! What can I get you started with?” A perky brunette greets you from behind the counter.
“Is Jungkook in?” you ask, trying to keep your voice casual, but there’s a slight tightness in your chest that you can’t shake.
The brunette tilts her head, brows furrowing. “Jungkook? He hasn’t been in since this morning. Can I leave a message for you or something?”
A sudden weight settles in your stomach.
“Oh, no. That’s alright. I’ll just… come back later. Thanks anyway.” You force a smile, but it feels off—like you’re holding your breath, not quite sure what to do with the information.
Your mind races as you leave the café, your brows furrowed in confusion. He said he was going back to the café… So why hasn’t he been here? The questions circle in your mind: Is he okay? Why would he lie? Was it just an excuse to create some space between you two? Maybe he has an office away from the café? The doubt gnaws at you, leaving an uncomfortable feeling as you head back to the hotel, your mind nowhere near settled.
You chose to spend the rest of your evening wrapped in blankets, munching on some takeaway watching terrible reality TV, desperate to escape your own.
It had been working, your eyes and ears were glued to the catfight playing on the flatscreen on the wall opposite your bed, until your phone had chimed beside you.
| 8:40pm
kook: u free? need to see u.
A simple straightforward message, one that you didn’t need to read into, but you did. Perhaps he had come to the conclusion that he needed his lips on yours again, or was ready to tell you that it was something he didn't want to partake in again.
| 8:42pm
You: level 7, room 613 :)
A simple straightforward reply. You wonder if Jungkook was reading into all your words and actions. Questioning them and romanticising them too.
A soft knock echoes from the opposite side of your door 20 minutes later. You’re quick to make your way towards the door, opening the door to see Jungkook, his hair messily falling around his face, dressed in sweats and a tee that was complimenting his figure a little too well.
“Hi stranger.” You tease, pushing the door to open wider to let him in, “Long time no see.”
He enters, his eyes darting around the room. It’s a decent-sized hotel suite, the soft light from the bedside lamp casting a warm glow over the cozy seating area. The hum of the TV buzzes through the room as it flickers softly in the dim room. His eyes flicker between the bed and the small chair in the corner, unsure where to take his seat.
“I’m currently way too invested in Khloe Kardashian going to jail, so bed it is.” You laugh as you make your way into the room, sitting back into your side of the bed.
He rolls his eyes playfully, letting out a soft chuckle as he makes his way to the opposite side of the bed.
You both let silence fall upon you, eyes glued to the TV but neither of you are really listening.
“You still watch this shit?”
“If ‘this shit’ means ‘incredibly addictive and entertaining cinema’, then yes. Absolutely.”
This was probably the 9th time you’d watched this season. You could probably (no, definitely) recite the dialogue of the scenes yourself.
It was a quirk of yours to rewatch the same shows, the same movies, over and over again. You liked knowing how things ended, hated the suspense of being in the dark about the things you enjoyed—just like now, not knowing where things stood with Jungkook. It was easier to replay the past than to deal with the uncertainty of the present.
“Was everything okay at work?” You muse softly, eyes still on the TV, your eyes avoid Jungkooks, don’t want to see him lie to you.
He hesitates for a moment, adverting his gaze back to the TV, “Yeah, yeah. Was a bit of a shitshow, but it's fine.” He mumbles, shifting against the bed.
You hum softly in response, silence falling upon the both of you again. Jungkook is the one to break it this time.
“I’m sorry,” He turns to face you, “For having to dip, know we had plans and all.”
Your eyes meet his, they take in the look that’s rested on his face. His hair falling around his face, his hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt, his eyes are locked on yours. All big and doe-eyed that you get lost in them, forget that he left, forget that he lied about going back to the cafè, forget that he had been standoffish after his lips crashed against yours.
“Do you regret it?” The words leave your lips before you can stop them, “The kiss, I mean.” You almost wince, your head inches back slightly as if you’re bracing yourself for the answer Jungkook could give you.
Jungkook’s brows furrow, his chest tightening slightly at the thought that you had been thinking that he had been avoiding you because of regret.
“Oh fuck— No! Fuck, no of course I don’t regret it,” He sits upright, turning his body towards you and runs his hand through his hair, he can see your eyes searching his own for any reason to not believe him, “Are you kidding? Do you know how long I’ve been wanting that? I fuckin’ dream about it, have since you left. No, fuck, I promise, I would never regret it.”
You let out a shaky breath, not sure what to say or do. The answer he gives you puts to rest any anxiety you had been harboring about him regretting the kiss, but a feeling of uncertainty still lingers in your chest. Why then?
“Okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.
When Jungkook’s gaze falls over your face, a sick feeling coils in his stomach. Sick to his stomach? Maybe love-sick too? You look so conflicted—your eyes darting back and forth between his. A small smile graces your lips, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and that sends a sharp jolt of self-hatred down his spine.
His hand reaches out, takes yours into his, “I promise you. I fuckin’ swear, I have never and will never regret you. Never.”
“That makes one of us.” You joke, a playful tone in your whisper, your own fingers intertwining with his, a perfect fit.
Jungkook laughs, shakes his head and squeezes your fingers between yours, “Fuckin’ idiot.”
The air between you feels lighter, hands staying locked together. There isn’t much conversation, not enough words that feel significant enough to truly convey how you both feel.
As the mood shifts, the air grows hotter. Tension rises between you, one that could rival the heat of Busan’s sun. You inch closer, your eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips, both of you subconsciously leaning in. Your hands grow bolder, silently roaming over each other.
"Kiss me," Jungkook whispers, his lips barely grazing yours. "Fuck-please."
No need to be told twice. You've heard him loud and clear. Your lips meet his, softly at first, applying just enough pressure to let him know you're all in. His hand quickly finds the back of your head, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.
Your tongue slides gently into his mouth, tangling with his in a rhythm that feels like it's been building for ages. His hands move to your waist, tugging you closer, pulling you into him. Without hesitation, you straddle his lap, your lips never disconnecting. The feeling of your body pressed against his, the heat intensifying, sends him into overdrive. A soft grunt escapes his lips, muffled against yours, as his grip tightens.
Your hands move to the hem of his shirt, bundling the fabric into your palms and pulling it up and over his head. As your lips pull apart to help remove his shirt, your eyes connect, his normal doe eyed look replaced with his eyes narrowing, desperation and need shining from them.
Jungkook's lips leave a trail down your neck, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer as you straddle him. You can feel his breath against your skin, shallow and quick, as if he's trying to steady himself.
"Wait, I-" He pulls back for a moment, his eyes locked on yours. There's something in them. Something he wants to say. But before he can, you pull him back to you, your lips crashing against his again, desperate for the taste of his lips.
He groans against your mouth, his hands pulling you in closer . The words from before, the hesitation in his eyes, are forgotten as the moment swallows both of you whole.
You can feel the firmness in Jungkook's pants pressing up against you, your hips begin to slowly grind back and forth against him, desperate for friction, desperate for some kind of release.
"Fuck, Kook," you whisper breathlessly between kisses, "Want you. Need you." Your words stir something in him, a tension so thick it makes his chest tighten with need. He groans low in his throat, hands moving to your waist to pull you closer.
His hands move from your hips up to your back, roaming chaotically, they come forward, they press against your chest and squeeze lightly. He pulls his head back, watches as his hands slightly dig into your breasts.
“Shit- Look at you,” He hisses between his teeth, his hands coming to squeeze again. His eyes lift up to you, your cheeks flushed with a soft blush from the heat of it all, lips slightly ajar, thinks you look so perfect. Too perfect. It makes his stomach flip, “Fuck, I need to te-”
His words are cut off as you lift your own shirt over your head, revealing your bare chest to him, his hands immediately coming to cup them again. A low, raspy groan leaves his lips, squeezes them again, harder this time.
Any words that were threatening to leave his lips are long gone, washed away in the tsunami of desire and adoration he has for you. Forgotten, swept away by the tide. The only words he’s able to muster up now are whispered curses through his teeth as you pull his head softly towards your chest.
His lips press against your skin, hungrily. He simply can’t get enough. You, you, you. It’s all he hears. All he wants. His eyes peek up to look at you as his lips wrap around your nipple, softly sucking.
The feeling of his soft lips wrapped around you makes you whine softly, your fingers tugging slightly on the ends of his hair. When you look down to see his round eyes looking right back at you, you’re sure you’re going to melt. Happy to let the tide consume you, will become one with the waves if it means having Jungkook like this.
He sucks, kisses, tugs slightly over your sensitive nipple, going back and forth between each one. Can't get enough. Is all in, all for you.
Your hips lift slightly, a silent plea for him to rid himself of his sweatpants. He notices-of course, he notices-but for a split second, his hands falter at the waistband, a thought flickering in his mind. It vanishes almost as quickly as it comes, overpowered by the pull of you. His hands move quickly now, tugging his sweatpants down and kicking them off in one fluid motion.
Grabbing your hips, he pulls you back toward him, his grip firm yet tender, presses a soft kiss against your lips. With a soft grunt, he flips you onto your back. There’s urgency in the way Jungkook moves, showing you just how badly he needs you right now.
He watches as your hips lift slightly, your thumbs hooking under your waistband, sliding off the last barrier between you and him.
He swallows, hard. Is in awe of everything that is you. His eyes trace every curve, every detail he had once memorised. He almost marvels at how well he remembers your body-every point that makes you tremble, every spot that leaves you breathless. But is he really surprised?
How could he be? He has carried you with him in every way possible, mimicking how he used to love you with everyone after you, always chasing the high you had once given him. It's always been you, all he's known.
As your hand comes to rest against his cheek, your thumb gently ghosting over his lower lip, you send him a small nod. Please. Let’s do this. Need you now. You, you, you.
His eyes search yours for a brief moment, as if to confirm this is real, that this is really happening. Then, with a softness that contrasts the heat between you, he tilts his head, pressing a delicate kiss onto the pad of your thumb.
The warmth of his lips lingers there before he lowers his head into the crook of your neck, where he pauses. He inhales deeply, letting your scent ground him. His lips press against your skin.
Your legs part, as he slowly lets himself fall into you. A low, desperate moan leaving his lips. “Ah—Fuck.”
The whine that leaves your lips is made up of a thousand different reasons— The slight burn of Jungkook sliding inside you, the release of built up tension of waiting for this moment, and above all, the most powerful: Love. All the feelings you had sworn you had moved past during the distance are back, as if they had never left.
His hips slowly begin to rock back and forth, finding a steady rhythm as the familiarity of your walls tightens around him. Heavy breaths fill the room, and he feels your nails dig into his biceps, a soft yet desperate plea. He wants you to leave your mark, to scar him, so that he carries a permanent tattoo made from you.
His hand moves from beside you, to your chest, cupping onto your pillowed tit. Is brave enough to look at your face now, and when he does and see’s your lips parted, brows furrowed— He’s done for.
His hips slam into you, the pace quickening, desperate now. Your legs part wider, your back arching against the mattress as the rhythm shifts.
"Fuck, Kook. So good," you whimper, almost pathetically, your hands gripping his arms. “So, so good, Kook."
He curses through his teeth, lifting his upper body between your legs as he keeps thrusting into you. His hand moves down your stomach, his nails grazing lightly, making goosebumps rise on your skin.
He watches himself sink in and out of you, the new angle making his heartbeat race. His finger continues its journey down your torso, finally finding your clit.
Soft, delicate circles are drawn over your sensitive bud. He wants to push you to the edge, overstimulate you, but he's not sure how much longer he can last like this. He's overstimulated himself, finally feeling you wrapped around him again-and it hurts. It hurts because it's been so long, hurts because he knows nothing will ever compare to this, and it hurts knowing he might never have this again.
"So fuckin' pretty like this, my baby," he grunts, the pet name slipping from his lips so naturally, it only pushes you closer to the edge. "So, fuckin' perfect for me, aren't you?"
Baby. It shouldn't sting, but it does. It reminds you of the tattoo needle that had pierced your skin five years ago, a thin line replicating a wave on your ribcage. The kind of sting that leaves you sore, but somehow addicted to the pain.
"Fuck, Kook, you're gonna-Ah, shit. You're gonna make me cum." You moan, your elbows digging into the bed as you struggle to hold your weakening body up.
His free hand presses against your inner thigh, pulling it forward as his other continues to rub tight, precise circles over your clit. "Cum," he groans, his brows furrowing so deeply you swear they'll leave a mark. "Cum for me, baby. Show me. Let me feel you, hm?"
Your stomach tightens, your elbows giving out, sending your head crashing back against the mattress. You try to push his hand away from your overstimulated clit, want to stay like this forever but it's no use-he's never been one to lose.
Your moans grow louder, more desperate, mixing with the wet sound of his skin slapping against yours, each thrust desperate and bold.
He feels you tighten around him, your walls pulsing in small, desperate spasms. Soft whines of his name leaving your lips that send him into overdrive. The sensation drives him wild, completely lost in the sin that is you.
It doesn't take long before Jungkook follows suit, his teeth digging into his lower lip as his eyes squeeze shut, his orgasm washing over him, emptying deep inside you.
His hips rock slowly, still moving against you as he rides out the waves of pleasure, his lips pressing desperate kisses against yours, drinking in your whines.
Your hands wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, his face finding comfort in the crook of your neck once more. The room falls silent, filled only with the sound of both your heavy breaths, struggling to regain normalcy.
"Shower?" You whisper into his ear, pressing a soft kiss against his lobe. He doesn't answer, only nodding against your skin.
You start the shower, letting the warm water cascade over your body. It tries to wash away any trace of his lips on your skin, but it's no use-his marks are invisible now, etched into your memory, and ones that only you two will ever know are there.
You’ve washed your body, your hair, your face, but Jungkook still hasn’t joined you in the shower. You dry off, throwing on the oversized tee that was hanging in the bathroom, and make your way back to the bedroom.
Jungkook is sitting on the bed, his figure dimly lit by the changing flashes from the TV screen. His back is to you, but his head hangs slightly between his shoulders.
“Kook?”
He doesn’t move, doesn’t reply. You walk towards him, kneeling down in front of him, positioning yourself between his legs. Gently, your hands reach for his wrists, pulling them away from his hanging head.
“Kook? Hey—what’s going on?” Your voice is soft, barely above a whisper, the reassurance in it only making Jungkook feel worse.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “So, so fucking sorry, my baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Your brows pinch together in confusion, your face full of concern. “Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. Kook—talk to me.”
He lifts his gaze to meet yours, letting his hands fall limply against his lap. His eyes are glassy, bloodshot, and his lower lip trembles as he tries to speak. “I fucked up,” he breathes out, almost choking on the words. “I’m so fucking sorry. You have to believe me, I’m so sorry.”
Your hand gently cradles his face, your thumb wiping away the stray tears as they fall. His face leans into your touch, a small kiss pressed into your palm, and that simple gesture sends him into a sob.
“What are you talking about, Jungkook? Talk to me— I can’t help you if I don’t understand.” Your voice is soft, trying to soothe his panic, but there’s a hint of fear to it.
“Kiss me. Please,” his voice cracks, eyes locked onto yours with a desperate plea. “Please, kiss me.” His words are broken by sobs.
You hesitate for a moment, unsure how to navigate this. He’s never been this vulnerable, and you’ve only seen him cry a handful of times—never like this. Gently, you kneel, brushing stray hairs from his forehead.
Your hand lifts his chin slightly, and you press your lips to his. It’s slow, painfully slow. Jungkook’s hands find their way to your face, gripping it with force, as though grounding himself. He tries to deepen the kiss, but all that escapes him is another sob.
You pull back slightly, sitting back on your knees, but just as you start to pull away, his hands catch yours, holding them gently before they can drop to your sides.
“Please, Kook.” You beg softly, your voice a mix of confusion and desperation.
“I didn’t mean to fuck this up. I really didn’t, my baby. I—fuck, everything just happened so fast. Everything’s been a mess, and then you showed up, and it just got even more fucked. I’m so fucking sorry.”
You’re still trying to make sense of what he’s so sorry for—kissing you? Sleeping with you? Regretting it? Not wanting this anymore? You have no fucking idea.
“Kook…I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to say.”
His eyes meet yours briefly before they dart away, unable to hold your gaze. His lips part to speak, but another sob escapes him, followed by a curse that cuts through the air.
“I— I have,” his voice cracks, “Fuck, I have a girlfriend.”
Your body freezes, stone cold. Your hands go limp in his, your chest tightening as your breath quickens.
His eyes meet yours, tears falling down his face, lips trembling as he tries to find anything to say. “Please— I can explain, I swear. I— Fuck, you know that’s not who I am.”
Your hands rip away from his, standing up and stepping back, your brain completely void of thought, overwhelmed by a gut-wrenching scream that echoes through your mind.
“What?”
He stands up, his hands reaching for you again, but you take another step back. The small distance between you feels painfully familiar.
“Please— me and her, we were already on our last breath before you showed up. I just didn’t have the balls to do anything about it. But then you, you came, and I—”
“You’re fucking joking, right?” You almost laugh, tears brimming in your eyes. “Tell me you’re fucking joking.”
His head shakes as he searches for the right words, hating the sight of your tears, but feeling utterly helpless. Seeing you cry because of him makes him want to dig his own fucking grave.
“Is that why your phone’s been blowing up? Is that why you didn’t go back to the café today? Because she was waiting for you?”
“Stop— Please, baby, I promise. I was going to end it tonight, but I needed to see you first, and then— Fuck, I got lost in you again, in feeling you. I— Please, baby.”
“Oh, it’s my fault?” Your voice cracks, bitterness cutting through the air. “I’m the reason you cheated? I’m the reason you lied?”
“Baby, no. It’s all fucking mine. I fucked it up. I wanted to tell you, was going to when we first hung out. Fuck—I just got so caught up, seeing you again, then I kept pushing it back, avoiding it. Didn’t want to ruin us.”
“Get out.”
He sobs, his voice breaking, “Please—fuck, please. We can figure it out. Please, baby.”
“Stop fucking calling me that, Kook!” You push at his chest, feeling like you’re being suffocated by the weight of his presence. London doesn’t sound so bad now. In fact, maybe it’s even too close.
He lets you push him, knowing he deserves it. Knows this is probably the last time your hands will ever press against his body. He stumbles back, letting you shove him toward the door as his sobs echo, watching helplessly as your tears fall.
“Please, get the fuck out. Fuck off, go. Leave.” You spit between the shoves. His back presses against the door, your pushes no longer having the same effect. Instead, you let your head drop against his chest, your shoulders shaking as you cry.
Your hands grip the shirt that clings to his frame, your voice quiet but cracked, laced with sobs, “Why the fuck did you do this?” You’re barely holding it together. “Why fuck me over? Why did you fucking do this?”
Jungkook’s hands wrap around your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over them softly, but nothing can ease the hurt between you. He can’t say anything to make this right, can’t justify why he kept this secret, why he didn’t tell you sooner.
He wants to—God, how he wants to sit you down and explain everything. He wants to tell you that his relationship with her had been hanging by a thread long before you even walked into his life. That it was a ghost of what it had once been, both of them too scared to be the one to end it. They hardly spoke anymore, both just avoiding the inevitable end.
But he knows there’s no point now. He fucked up. He’s still in a relationship, even if it’s nothing but a shell, and that’s a reality he can’t escape. He knows what he did was wrong. And even though the feelings for you that had resurfaced swallowed him whole when you walked into his coffee shop, he was greedy. He let himself want you, even though he knew this situation cursed any chance of a future between you two.
“I love you.” He whispers, broken.
And you know he does. You’ve felt it, felt what it’s like to be loved by Jeon Jungkook.
His hand reaches for the door, twisting the handle. Your hands fall from his shirt, your arms hanging at your sides as your breath shakes in your chest. You take a step back.
His hand gently cups your face, brushing away the tears that keep falling. When you look up at him, his sob is painful, raw. It only grows louder when your own hand rests over his.
He presses his lips to yours one last time, desperate, consuming. He breathes you in, as if trying to make this moment last forever, but the kiss ends too soon.
“I love you,” you whisper, your voice barely a breath.
The only response is the sound of the door locking behind him, his departure sealing the silence of your suite.
#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook fic#jungkook angst#jungkook oneshot#jjk oneshot#bts#bts oneshot#jungkook ff#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook and reader#bts fanfic#by ioveartfilm
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Baby, can we make up now? || Park Sunghoon
synopsis - bf!sunghoon and reader comforting each other and making up after you walk out during a fight (part 2 of I don’t wanna go to bed mad at you…)
non-idol!sunghoon x reader / established relationship - angst + fluff / warnings - crying, fighting/arguments, mentions of neglect / word count: ~1k
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It was a rarity for you and Sunghoon to fight like this—so badly that swears are echoing off of the walls and choked sobs escape both of your lips. Any arguments the two of you may have were typically nothing more than about picking up dirty socks off of the bedroom floor or making sure to turn off the lights before leaving the apartment. In the three years you’ve been together, you had never had a fight so severe until tonight. The whole situation was surely a result of pent up frustration and exhaustion from your daily lives, but that didn’t make the words hurt any less.
You let out a shaky breath as you approach the door of you and Sunghoon’s shared apartment, resting your hand on the door knob as you try to suck in the tears threatening to already escape. With a gentle twist, you push the door open to enter the dimly-lit space. Before you could mutter a single word, make any sound, or even take off your shoes, the warmth of Sunghoon’s body was quickly being wrapped around you. The silence was immediately broken by the sound of his small sobs and sniffles into your neck, instantly making your own tears start to fall again. You wrapped your arms around his body and held him close as if he would vanish into thin air if you didn’t. The two of you stood in the doorway just like this; your bodies pressed together and choked cries filling the common area for a few minutes more.
“I’m- I’m s-so- I’m so sorry Y/N,” Sunghoon manages to stutter out against your neck, his arms squeezing you even tighter if at all possible, “I’m such a- I’m such a fucking idiot.”
You gently shake your head as you slightly pull away from him, making his head raise to look at your face. A pang of guilt rushed through your body at the sight of his red and puffy eyes, his nose a bright pink from all of the crying—his eyelashes soaked in tears as more kept falling down his face. You let out a deep sigh as you reached up to cup his cheeks, wiping away the tears with your thumbs. Sunghoon’s eyes fluttered shut, causing a few more to fall as he leaned into your touch.
“It’s okay my love,” you breathed out in a small whisper, “We are both going through a lot right now and just ended up taking it out on each other… I know you didn’t mean it.”
Sunghoon takes a deep breath and keeps his hands on your waist, rubbing small circles with his thumbs, “I know but I still shouldn’t have said what I did. It came out so wrong and it made you think I didn’t love you and that-” he pauses and squeezes his eyes closed tight while letting out another sob, “that is the last thing I ever want you to feel from me.”
“Oh sweetie…” you say under your breath before taking his hand into yours and walking a few steps to the couch to sit the both of you down, “Let’s take a few deep breaths first, hm?” you suggest as the both of you take a seat, knowing that if Sunghoon didn’t stop crying now, he never would. You take a couple deep breaths together, letting both of your emotions settle. A soft smile tugs at the corners of your lips as Sunghoon nods to you, letting you know he’s ready to talk.
Sunghoon holds your hands in his, taking a brief second to collect his thoughts before he begins to speak, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. For the argument, for what I said, for making you feel the way you did, for causing you to walk out… I was just-” he pauses to take another breath, “I was frustrated and my mouth started working faster than my brain was.”
You give him a small nod to let him know you’re listening, your eyes never leaving his face even for a brief second, “I know, Sunghoon. I was irritated too, and I surely also said things that I know I shouldn’t have. Besides, I was the one who started it so it’s really my fault,” you say, your voice growing softer as you look down at your hands intertwined in your lap.
“What?” Sunghoon questions, his eyebrows furrowing, “Look at me baby,” he tells you as he brings one hand up to your chin, gently tilting your head up to look him in the eyes, “I deserved it, honestly. You were right. I’ve been neglecting you and treating you like a second priority to my work and that’s just unfair to you.”
“But I also need to be more understanding that you-”
“No buts,” Sunghoon immediately cuts you off, moving his hand from your chin to cup your cheek, “You are my life, Y/N. You are my first priority in every way possible, and I intend to make sure what’s what you receive from me until we’re six feet under. There is nothing on this planet that will ever be more important than you, understand?” he explains a bit more firmly, making sure your eyes never leave his.
“Yeah love… I understand,” you reply in a soft whisper, a tiny smile trying to make its way onto your lips.
With a soft sigh, Sunghoon plants a gentle kiss to your forehead and pulls you in for another embrace, your head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck as his chin rests on top of your head, “Baby, can we make up now? Cause I can’t sleep through the pain.”
A quiet chuckle leaves your lips as you nuzzle impossibly closer into his chest, “Yeah babe… we’re okay.”
“I love you with my whole heart, Y/N. Never forget that.”
“And I love you with all of mine, Sunghoon.”
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masterlist
#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen au#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fluff#enhypen angst#enhypen imagines#enhypen sunghoon#enhypen sunghoon x reader#enha sunghoon#sunghoon drabbles#sunghoon imagines#sunghoon#park sunghoon#sunghoon fluff#sunghoon angst#ikeuluvrcreations#ikeuluvrsongseries#Spotify
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CASUAL , TWO ⸻ dean winchester
warnings dean winchester x fem!reader, unrequited love, fwb, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, praise, explicit language, angst, arguing, dean being a scared lil bitch, nsfw, 18+,
꒰ part 2 of my ‘casual’ mini series ꒱
Dean knew he was asking for a lot the moment he hit the call button. He leaned against the creaky wall of the random, rundown motel room he had booked. His mind was racing, though he wasn't really sure why. He just needed a distraction, something to pull him out of the mess inside his head, and you—well, you always knew how to make him feel better.
He'd heard that you were on a case nearby, and now, here he was. Again. Calling you like it was nothing, like your last time together didn't feel... different.
While on the other end you had stared at your phone for what felt like an eternity, your thumb hovering over Dean's name. You knew what he wanted. You always did. It wasn't a mystery why Dean was calling you up out of the blue at 1am.
Your first instinct was to ignore him. You didn't need this—didn't need to be his go-to when he needed an escape. Lately, every time you thought of him, it felt like your heart cracked a little more. And despite his emotional distance you couldn’t help yourself.
"Dean?" You voice crackled through the phone as you picked up the call. "Hey, uh... You still in the area?" he asked, trying to sound casual. You sighed on the other end, and Dean could already feel your hesitation. "Yeah, I'm around.”
"Good. There's this motel a few miles off the highway. Thought maybe you could, I don't know, come ‘round?"
"I don't think I can," you said, your voice softer now, but firm. "I'm busy." Dean frowned, pushing off the wall and pacing. "C'mon, y/n. Just a couple of hours. It's not like we haven't done this before." A sarcastic chuckle left your lips, sounding almost bitter. "Exactly, Dean. We've done this before. Too many times."
"Yeah, but—" Dean started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't sure what the hell he was supposed to say to that. It wasn't like he could argue with you. You both knew what the deal was. Casual, no strings, no messy emotions.
But still, he found himself pushing. "I just need you, okay? For tonight. Just to get out of my head." Dean could feel his heart thudding against his ribcage.
It wasn't supposed to be that complicated.
You wanted to say no. You should say no. You knew that you’d leave feeling emptier than when you came, like you always did, yet the thought of not seeing him at all—that was even worse. You hated it. Hated yourself for it. It was ridiculous, really, how you kept giving in, knowing how things would end.
"Fine," you finally said. "I'll be there."
When you arrived at the motel, the familiar sight of Dean's black Impala parked outside brought a lump to your throat. You’d convinced yourself on the way over that you’d keep your guard up this time, that you wouldn't let him get under your skin.
But the moment you walked into that damn room and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, all your defenses began to crumble. He stood up, giving you that same tired smile you’d seen a hundred times before. "Hey."
"Hi," you echoed, crossing your arms over your chest, trying not to let your frustration show. You weren’t here to fight—not yet, anyway. But the weight of everything unsaid was suffocating you.
But Dean wasted no time, stepping toward you and pulling you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both urgent and needy. You wanted to push him away, tell him this wasn't what you wanted anymore, but damn it, your body betrayed you. You kissed him back, letting yourself get lost in him for a moment, because it was easier than dealing with the truth.
You two fell back onto the bed, lost in each other like you had countless times before. For a little while, you could forget. You could pretend that this wasn't just about the physical, that maybe, just maybe, there was something more between the two of you. But deep down, you knew better.
Dean’s body pressed more firmly against yours, his chest solid and warm as it met yours, adjusting himself just enough so that he was hovering above you. His tongue pushed gently against your lower lip before slipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss.
You moaned quietly, hands finding his hair, tugging lightly at the nape of his neck as his hands traveled down your sides, leaving goosebumps all over your body. You could feel his growing erection pressing against you, slowly grinding himself back and forth on your core. The urgency in his movements made you feel wanted, desired, but at the same time you felt empty, just wanting it to be over.
Dean tugged at the waistband of your jeans, pulling them off within a matter of seconds before he freed himself from his own clothes, leaving you both bare. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He mumbled, the words leaving his lips almost unconsciously. Of course he thought that you were stunning, but maybe it meant a lot more to you than he realized.
You inhaled sharply as you felt Dean’s finger teasing your entrance, smirking as he felt how wet you’ve gotten over the course of a few seconds. You surely couldn’t deny the fact that he turned you on.“Soaked already?” He chuckled, making you nod hastily.
Grabbing your hips he secured you onto the mattress, pressing you down gently before he pushed his aching tip past your entrance, a loud moan escaping your lips. Your walls clenched around him almost immediately, making him groan.
“Fuck sweetheart, that tight cunt ‘s sucking me right in.”
You let out another moan, eyes fluttering shut as you felt his cock filling you up to the brim, a perfect fit. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he almost pulled himself out completely before slamming right back in, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.
“Hngh..shit—“ you hissed, your nails digging into his back, skin slapping against skin echoing through the motel room. Dean's hand moved to cup your ass, his fingers digging in slightly as he pulled you closer with each thrust, craving every single inch of your body. As he continued to fuck you at a steady pace you felt yourself getting closer, clenching around his thick cock.
Dean was quick to redirect his hand in between your bodys, finding your clit, and circling the sensitive nub to drive you completely over the edge. You could feel your body tensing up, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. “Dean, I’m gonna—“ you whined out before the band in your stomach snapped, cumming hard all over his cock.
"That's it, baby.” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, not even noticing the little petname that had slipped past his lips. He gave you a few more hard thrusts before letting out a loud groan himself, feeling his dick twitch as he came deep inside of you, painting your walls white with his cum, and leaving both of you breathless.
Dean fell down beside you in the quiet aftermath, the soft glow from the motel's flickering light casting shadows on the walls, staring up at the ceiling like he always did. It was so routine by now that you could almost predict his every move.
But tonight, something felt different. The silence between you was heavier than usual, and you felt a knot forming in your chest. You waited for him to say something, anything, but when he finally spoke, his words cut through you like a knife.
"You’re so good at this stuff. It’s like you were made for it.”
You froze. Made for it? Your heart sank. The casualness of his words, the thoughtless way he dismissed whatever connection you two had, made you feel sick. You sat up quickly, eyes burning with anger and hurt. "That's all I am to you? A fucking hooker?” Dean turned to you, clearly confused. "What? That’s not- Why are you suddenly acting like this?"
Your anger was burning up, but so was your pain. It wasn't just this moment; it was all of it. Everything you’d been holding back for so long, everything you’d swallowed down, was bubbling to the surface. "Why wouldn't I act like this, Dean? Last time we met, we literally had dinner with your brother, and you fucked me in the bathroom like some random slut who’s hopping on anyone’s dick. And now you wonder why I'm bitter?"
Dean blinked, caught off guard. "That was just... it wasn’t—You know how it is with us." He babbled. "No, Dean," you shot back, voice shaking. "I thought I knew how it was. But apparently, I've been fooling myself this whole time. I hate that I let this drag on so long, and now, I hate myself for it."
Dean sat up, running a hand through his hair. This was exactly what he was afraid of. "I thought we were on the same page here, y/n.”
This was just how things were, right? Casual. No complications.
"I'm not just someone you can call when you're bored or need to get out of your head," you continued, voice breaking. "I deserve more than that, and the fact that I've let this go on for so long—it kills me. Because I hate that I've let myself care about someone who clearly doesn't care about me."
Dean's heart sank at your words. He'd always known you were more than just a quick fix for his demons, but hearing it laid out like that? It stung. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't know how to fix this. "y/n...I-" Dean began, his voice soft, almost pleading. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that. I didn't—"
You cut him off, shaking your head as tears welled up in your eyes. "It doesn't matter, Dean. What's done is done. I just... I can't keep doing this. Not like this."
The room fell silent again, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. Dean stared at you, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening. He wanted to say something, anything to make it right, but the truth was, he didn't know how.
But what he knew was that the thing between you two wasn’t as casual as he pretended it to be, and that scared the shit out of him. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.
You stood up, heart pounding in your chest as you began putting on your clothes. You couldn't stay here—not when everything felt so raw, so exposed. Dean watched you, the guilt etched on his face, but he didn't say anything to stop you.
"I need to go," you said quietly, pulling on your jacket and heading for the door. You could feel his eyes on you. "y/n.." Dean called after you, his voice almost too faint to hear.
You paused at the door, your hand resting on the knob, and for a brief second, you thought about turning back, thought about giving him one more chance. But you didn't. Instead, you opened the door and walked out, leaving Dean alone in that empty motel room.
He sat there, staring at the door long after it had closed, the weight of everything he hadn't said pressing down on him like heavy rain. He had no idea if you’d come back. And for the first time, he wasn't sure if he wanted you to. Because you deserved better than what he had to offer.
coming from first hand experience 😁 anyways..
feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!
tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @beausling @angelicjackles @deansbite @figthoughts @deansenvy @chevroletdean @rubyvhs @sugardean @figurantedefilme @cosmicanakin @sammyluvr @nuemanfilms @titsout4nicholas
#works ₊˚⊹♡#spnfandom#supernatural#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester smut#dean winchester one shot#dean x reader#dean winchester x female!reader#dean winchester x you
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⋆˙⟡ at your worst, chris sturniolo
boyfriend!chris x fem!reader
synopsis. in which after a hurtful fight between you and chris, he comes and apologises after a few days, and he promises to stay forever, even at your worst.
warnings. angst, arguments, self-doubt themes, comforting, emotional impact.
word count. 1k.
authors note. since madison was first on my spotify wrapped, i decided to make a fic based on my fav madison song.
the rain hadn’t stopped for hours. it pounded against the windows of your cozy home like a relentless reminder of everything you wanted to escape from. the room was quiet except for the sound of the storm and the occasional crack of your breathing as you fought to steady it.
you sat on the plush sofa of your living room, knees pulled to your chest, trying to drown out the words that played in your mind on a endless loop.
chris’ voice, sharp and cutting, echoed louder than the rain. you hadn’t thought he was capable of that kind of anger—not directed at you. but that night had proved you very wrong.
the fight had started small, the way most of them did. he’d asked you why you didn’t call him back, and you’d snapped at him without thinking, your frustration bubbling over. you weren’t angry at him, not really. you were angry at yourself—angry at the way your life felt like it was slipping through your fingers, angry at how hard it was to get out of bed some days, angry that no matter what you did, you felt like you were falling short.
but chris didn’t know that. all he saw was you pushing him away again, and this time, he pushed back.
“why do you always do this?” he’d said, his voice rising, cracking with something close to desperation. “i’m trying to help you, and all you do is shut me out!”
“i didn’t ask for your help, chris!” you’d fired back, your voice louder than his. “i didn’t ask for you to fix me!”
“i’m not trying to fix you,” he’d said, his tone hardening. “but you can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine and then acting like it’s my fault when it’s not!”
that’s when it happened. that’s when he’d said the thing that had left a mark you weren’t sure would ever fade.
“you make things harder for everyone who cares about you.”
the room had gone silent after that, expect for the sound of your heart breaking. you’d stared at him, stunned, while his face twisted in regret the second the words left his mouth. but it was too late.
you’d walked away that night, slamming the door behind you, and neither of you had spoken since.
now, as the rain drummed on and the darkness outside pressed closer, you wondered if maybe chris had been right. maybe you did make things harder for everyone who tried to love you. maybe the weight you carried was too much for anyone else to bear.
the knock at your door was soft, almost tentative, but it startled you. you froze, staring at the door from your space on the sofa as if it might burst open on its own. when the knock came again, more insistent this time, you rose on shaky legs and wiped your face, though it did little to hide the redness around you eyes.
when you opened the door, chris stood there, rain-soaked and disheveled. his grey rolling stones hoodie clung to his body, and the pieces of hair that came out of his red backwards hat was plastered to his face. but it was his eyes that caught you—their warmth, their sadness, their unwavering focus on you.
“can i come in?” he asked softly, his voice almost drowned out by the rain pattering against the concrete.
you hesitated, the weight of his words from that night still heavy between you. but something in his expression made you step aside, and he slipped inside, shaking off the rain.
for a moment, neither of you spoke. the silence stretched until it became unbearable, and you finally broke it.
“what are you doing here, chris?” you asked, crossing your arms as if that could shield you from him. “i thought we said everything we needed to say.”
he flinched at the bitterness in your tone but didn’t look away. “you said everything you needed to say,” he replied. “i didn’t.”
you let out a hollow laugh, the sound bitter even to your own ears. “and what could you possibly have to add? another reminder that i’m a burden? that i make things harder for everyone around me?”
“that’s not what i meant,” he said quickly, stepping closer, though you stepped back.
“it’s what you said,” you shot back. “and the worst part is, you didn’t have to say it. i already know it’s true.”
his face crumpled, guilt flashing across his features. “no,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “it’s not true. and i hate myself for making you think it is.”
you turned away, not wanting him to see the tears threatening to fall. “it doesn’t matter, chris. you were right. i push people away, i ruin things, and you deserve better than that.”
“stop,” he said, his voice louder now, more urgent. “you don’t get to decide what i deserve. and you don’t get to tell me how i feel about you.”
you spun around, your anger finally boiling over. “why, chris? why are you even here? i’m not worth this! i’m not worth you!”
“because i love you,” he said, his voice raw and unwavering. “because i love you even when you’re at your worst. especially when you’re at your worst.”
the tears finally spilled over, but you didn’t move, didn’t speak. you wanted to believe him, but the voice in your head, the one that had been there for long as you could remember, kept telling you he was wrong.
“i don’t know how to let you love me,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i don’t even know how to love myself.”
chris stepped closer, closing the space between you. his hand hovered for a moment before gently brushing against yours. “then let me show you,” he said softly. “let me love you until you can.”
you shook your head, your shoulders shaking with the effort to hold yourself together. “you don’t get it, chris. sometimes i hate myself so much it feels like i can’t breathe. and the things you said…” you looked at him, your voice cracking. “the things you said made it worse.”
his breath hitched, and he looked away, shame written all over his face. “i know,” he said, his voice barely audible. “and i’ll never forgive myself for that. but i need you to know—i didn’t mean it. not any of it. i was scared, and i lashed out, and i hurt you in a way i can’t take back. but if you’ll let me, i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
you stared at him, the sincerity in his eyes breaking down the walls you’d spent so long building. and for the first time in weeks, you let yourself consider the possibility that maybe—just maybe—he meant it.
the silence stretched between you again, but this time, it felt different. softer.
chris hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer. then, without warning, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around your waist as though letting go wasn’t an option. his embrace was warm and grounding, a stark contrast to the coldness you’d felt for so long.
your hands moved on instinct, sliding around his torso, your head came to rest against his chest. the steady rhythm of his heartbeat filled your ears, and for the first time in weeks, the noise in your head began to quiet.
“you don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle. “just let me hold you.”
you closed your eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours, and for a minute, the world outside didn’t matter. the storm, the hurt, the weight out everything—all of it faded into the background.
chris’ hand slid up your back, his touch light, and before you could process what was happening, he tilted his head and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. the warmth of it spread through you, melting the edges of your defences.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours, and then he leaned in, brushing his lips yours in a kiss that was tentative and tender, like he was asking permission. when you didn’t pull away, his lips pressed more firmly, and the quiet desperation in the way he kissed you felt like an apology, a promise, and a plea all at once.
when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing unsteady. neither of you said anything, but the weight of the moment settled between you like a unspoken misunderstanding.
“you’re going to regret this,” you said quietly, your voice trembling with both fear and hope.
chris shook his head, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. “never,” he said.
and as the storm outside began to ease, you let him pull you into his arms, his warmth seeping into the cracks you thought could never be mended. maybe you weren’t ready believe him yet, but for now, you let yourself rest in the possibility.
#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo edit#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo x you#and chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo fanfic#Spotify
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THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (04)
MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader
Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.
Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.
Word Count: 6.4k
Aliyah's Notes: i'll say it again, but specifically this chapter depicts heavy body image and ed descriptions + vomit so i beg of you to skip the beginning if you're uncomfortable with that. besides that, the chapter is cute and full of rafe and reader moments
No, no, no, no, no…
The air in the cramped bathroom felt stifling, its walls pressing close as if they could hear every breath slipping through your lips. Your phone screen glared up at you, the message burning into your mind, twisting your insides. It felt like a rope tightening around your chest, the words somehow dragging you thousands of miles back to a place you fought so hard to escape.
It was just a text. Just words. But your body reacted as if you’ve been thrown into an ice-cold river, your mind spiraling as your heartbeat thumped in your ears, louder and louder, drowning out all your sense of reason. You weren’t supposed to feel this way—not here, not anymore. You fought too hard to let a few words send you back to that place.
The text was simple, it read: "Hey, do you remember me? Just to let you know we're coming to the U.S. in a few weeks."
Your fingers, knuckles white, tightened around the phone as you tried to calm yourself. You had come so far, broken so many boundaries to make it, to have a life that was your own, that you chose. And now? Now your world felt as fragile as glass, your strength chipped away by something as simple as a message.
For years, you pushed that life aside, buried it beneath layers of success and glossy magazine covers, of flashing cameras and compliments that felt like armor. You learned to smile, to keep your chin up, to say what people wanted to hear. Y/N Y/L/N, the golden girl, they’d call you, the one with the perfect life, the charmed career. They didn’t see the cracks beneath, the memories you pushed so far down you could almost believe they’d never existed.
You missed them, sometimes. In quiet moments, when you let yourself think of them, you felt the familiar pang of loss. But you missed them on your own terms, and never to this point—never to the point of feeling that old, oppressive weight. The suffocating sense of having your every move watched, every thought scrutinized and molded into someone else’s idea of perfection. You’d broken free of those chains. Or at least you thought you had.
Your breath hitched as a tear slipped down your cheek, cold against your heated skin. You quickly wiped it away, but another followed, then another, until you were gripping the edge of the sink, trying desperately to hold yourself together. “You’re okay,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely a breath. “You’re fine. Suck it up, come on.”
The words felt hollow, but you forced yourself to repeat them, steadying your breathing as you stared at your reflection. The woman looking back at you wasn’t the helpless girl from your past; she was someone stronger, someone who’d fought for every inch of her success. But as you brushed away the tears, you wondered just how deep those old wounds ran.
Another shaky breath, another splash of cold water. You didn’t have time for this. Not here, not today. There was a shoot waiting, people depending on you to be the flawless professional you always were. You could fall apart later. That would have to be enough.
Drawing yourself up, you checked your reflection one last time, wiping away any trace of emotion from your face. Your fingers still trembled, but you forced them to steady, exhaling one last time before stepping out of the bathroom, your shoulders set with the poise you spent years perfecting.
As you walked back into the studio, the lights blinded you momentarily, the heat from the set lights prickling against your skin. The room buzzed with activity—assistants darting back and forth, stylists fussing over racks of clothing, and the low hum of the photographer’s voice directing the scene. You slipped back into your role, letting the familiar rhythm carry your as you took your place on set.
“Finally,” the photographer muttered, barely looking up from his camera. “We’re on a schedule, Y/N. I don’t have time for dramatics.” His voice was cold, clipped, as though your presence was nothing more than an inconvenience.
You clenched your jaw, brushing off the comment. Just keep your head down, and keep moving. You struck your first pose, forcing yourself to focus on the rhythm of the camera’s clicks. Each flash, each snap, pulled you farther away from your thoughts, grounding you in the present. You knew this world, knew how to inhabit the perfect persona they wanted from you. You could do this.
“Okay, chin down,” the photographer barked, barely glancing up from his lens. “More. More—there, but tighten up your core, Y/N. It’s looking a little… fat.”
The comment hit you like a slap, the faint tremble returning to your hands. You adjusted your pose, forcing yourself to stay calm. You've heard comments like this before. Your body was scrutinized in ways most people couldn’t understand, your curves debated and dissected like they belonged to someone else. You have been trained to brush it off, to smile and push through it with the poise they expected of you.
But today, after everything, the words dug a little deeper.
The photographer snapped another shot, then lowered his camera, looking you up and down with a critical eye. “You’re slipping, Y/N. You used to be skinnier. Are you having those episodes again?” He cocked an eyebrow, his tone dripping with condescension. “If you’re going to stay at the top, you have to stop whatever it is you’re doing that’s triggering you. That means discipline, diet, focus. Do you have that? Or am I wasting my time here?”
You bit down on the inside of your cheek, the words stinging sharper than you wanted to admit. You knew you gained a little weight—nothing drastic, nothing worth commenting on, but in your world, even a fraction of a change was enough to invite scrutiny. You forced yourself to hold your pose, to keep the practiced smile on your face, even as your heart pounded in your chest.
“No,” you said quietly, your voice steady but clipped. “You’re not wasting your time—I understand. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good,” he said, turning his attention back to his camera. “Because the camera doesn’t lie, Y/N. Either shape up, or Chanel will find someone who will.”
The ride home was a blur, the city lights streaking past the window as you sat, rigid, in the back seat of the car. Your stomach twisted painfully, a churning knot of anger, shame, and something that felt dangerously close to despair. Each time you closed your eyes, the photographer’s words replayed like a cruel loop in your mind, mocking you, unraveling every shred of confidence you’d managed to build. You’re slipping… used to be skinner…discipline, diet, focus. His voice echoed with the ghost of memories you’d focus so hard to bury.
You barely noticed when the car finally stopped. As soon as you stepped out, the familiar ache in your chest intensified, the weight of everything pressing down, suffocating. You fumbled with your keys, barely able to keep your hands steady long enough to unlock the door. Once inside, you kicked off your shoes, not even caring where they landed, and stumbled over to the couch. Every nerve in your body screamed, the urge clawing at you with a ferocity that was both frightening and familiar.
You sat there, breathing heavily, your fingers digging into the fabric of the couch as you fought to steady yourself. But the memories kept coming, one after another, tearing at you until it felt like you were drowning in them. You saw yourself, younger, lost, staring into the mirror late at night, desperate to feel in control of something—anything. The hunger, the self-loathing, the endless cycle of guilt and relief—it all rushed back with a force that stole the breath from your lungs.
It would be so easy to give in, a voice whispered in the back of your mind. Just this once. Just for tonight. You could have the relief you craved, the escape from the pressure that felt like it was suffocating you from the inside out.
No, you told yourself, clenching your fists. You’re stronger than this.
But the temptation was too strong, too insistent, and before you even realized what you were doing, you found yourself in the kitchen, stuffing your face with whatever you could find. You just needed to eat, eat, eat, and eat more. You blinked and found yourself in the bathroom, hands braced against the sink as you stared into the mirror, a tear-streaked, desperate face staring back at you. Your chest tightened as the shame washed over you, the familiar ache settling deep in your bones, dragging you down into the darkness you’d spent years trying to escape.
Your fingers brushed your throat, trembling as you fought against the impulse. You didn’t want this, not really. You knew the pain that would follow, the emptiness that would settle in your chest like a lead weight, crushing you from the inside out. But the need for control, the need for release, was stronger than you were.
As if in a trance, you gave in, the guilt and shame numbing your mind as you went through the motions, each step mechanical, devoid of thought. The feeling of release came in a rush, bringing a momentary sense of relief that quickly dissolved into nausea and self-loathing. You sank to the floor, gasping for breath, your entire body trembling as the full weight of what you’d done settled over you.
The bathroom floor was cold against your skin, grounding you in the present even as your mind spiraled, tangled in a haze of guilt and despair. You pressed your forehead to your knees, the tears coming fast and hot, unstoppable. Your chest heaved with silent sobs, each one cutting deeper than the last as you choked on the bitter taste of regret. The walls seemed to close in around you, trapping you in a prison of your own making, a prison you’d vowed to escape but somehow couldn’t.
You thought you were done with this, that you’d left this part of yourself behind. But here you were, broken and hollow, the fragile pieces of your self-control shattered beyond repair. You wanted to scream, to tear at your own skin, to do anything that would make the pain stop, even for just a moment.
“Why am I like this?” you whispered, the words barely audible through your tears.
When the tears finally slowed, you felt hollow, emptied, the relief you’d hoped for replaced by a numbness that was somehow worse. You pulled yourself up, the motion slow and heavy, as though your limbs were weighed down by the shame you carried. You splashed water on your face, watching as the streaks of mascara and foundation washed away, leaving you bare and exposed, a shadow of the person you pretended to be.
Stumbling back into the living room, you sank onto the couch, the silence of the apartment pressing in around you, thick and suffocating. Your stomach ached, a dull throb that echoed the ache in your chest, a reminder of everything you’d tried to forget. You leaned back, closing your eyes, your fingers still trembling.
The silence was shattered by the faint buzz of your phone, the sound jarring in the quiet. You opened your eyes, feeling a fresh wave of dread as you reached for it, already bracing yourself for more bad news. The screen showed a message from Rafe, sent twenty minutes ago.
Rafe: “Hey. On my way over. Be ready. We’re going out.”
Your heart skipped a beat, panic flaring in your chest as you processed the words. Rafe was coming here. He’d be here any minute, expecting you to be ready, expecting you to be fine. But you were anything but fine. The thought of facing him, of pretending everything was normal, felt like an impossible task.
You wanted to ignore it, to curl up on the couch and let the world fade away. But you knew you couldn’t. He’d see through you, he’d ask questions, and you weren’t ready for that. You weren’t ready for him to see the broken pieces.
Taking a shaky breath, you sat up, wiping the last traces of tears from your face. You couldn’t fall apart now. You’d have to pull yourself together, put on the mask he expected to see.
But as you stared at the screen, the weight of what you’d done settled over you, a cold, crushing ache that threatened to drown you all over again.
A sharp knock broke the silence, the sound slicing through the thick air of your apartment. You jolted, your heart racing as you looked toward the door.
Fuck! You hadn’t even had time to fully compose yourself.
Another knock, lighten this time, followed by his familiar voice. “Come on, open up, sweetheart,” Rafe called out, his tone easy, teasing. He was here. Of course he was here.
Forcing a deep breath, you pushed yourself up from the couch, running your hands through your hair in a last-minute attempt to look put-together. You brushed a hand over your face, trying to erase any trace of what had happened, then ran to close the door of your kitchen to hide the mess of food sprawled everywhere.
The moment you opened the door, Rafe’s eyes locked onto yours, his playful smile faltering as he took you in. The lightness in his gaze shifted, softening with a concern that made your chest tighten. You could feel his eyes sweeping over your face, catching the lingering redness around your eyes, the slight shake in your hands and naked legs, the way you wouldn’t quite meet this gaze.
“You…” he said, stepping forward as his brow furrowed. “You okay?”
You forced a smile, dismissive, brushing it off as though he hadn’t seen what he had. “I’m fine, Cameron. Just a long day, you know,” you replied, your voice steady but rough, your fingers clutching the edge of the door.
He didn’t move, his gaze unwavering as he studied you, his expression laced with worry. “Are you sure?” he asked softly, his voice careful now. “You don’t look fine. Your eyes…”
“I said I’m fine, Rafe!” you snapped, the words sharper than you’d intended, the force of them surprising you both. His brows shot up slightly, but he didn’t move, his gaze locked on yours as though he were searching for something beneath the anger.
“I’m just asking, but something’s obviously wrong. You don’t have to—”
“Why do you care?” you interrupted, your voice edged with a defensiveness you couldn’t control. “It’s none of your business, alright,” Your hands tightened into fists at your sides, the sting of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you willed them back, pressing down the wave of emotion threatening to rise again. “I told you, I’m fine. Just drop it.”
The silence stretched between you, tense, your words hanging in the air like a challenge. You could see the hurt flash across his face, fleeting but unmistakable, before it softened into something closer to understanding, something that only made you feel more exposed.
“Alright,” he murmured, his tone calm, measured. He took a step back, lifting his hands slightly in surrender, his gaze lingering on you, patient, waiting. “If you say so.”
But you could see it in his eyes—he didn’t believe you, not for a second.
You stepped back, allowing him to come inside. He moved past you slowly, his gaze flicking back to you once before staying put. You headed toward the living room, and he followed you, swallowing the lingering shame in your throat as you focused on steadying your breath.
He paused near the couch, glancing around the room as though searching for a sign of what had shaken you.
“Alright, so… where exactly are we going?” you asked, aiming to keep your tone casual. Your gaze dropped to your hands, hoping to mask the slight tremor of your nerves.
Rafe glanced over, he seemed to take a moment to consider his answer, studying you as though choosing his words carefully. “One of my friends is hosting a little get-together…”
“Topper?”
“Hell nah!” He quietly laughed, shaking his head. “Not this time. It’s Kelce. He throws these gatherings sometimes—more chill than anything else. It’s just a handful of people, around a dozen or so, max. You think you’ll be okay with that?”
His gaze lingered on you, a mix of playfulness and genuine concern softening his features. You swallowed, nodding as you offered a small shrug. “Yeah, sure. That’s fine. So… just friends? Are there going to be, um… other girls?”
He tilted his head. “Yeah, some. Kiara and Cleo are usually around for these things, and…” he paused, scratching his jaw before continuing, “my sister.”
That made you look up, your curiosity piqued. “You have a sister?”
“Two actually, both younger,” he replied with a faint smile. “But only one’s coming tonight. Sarah. I think she’s around your age. You’ll probably like her. She’s… got a bit of a wild streak.”
You nodded and stayed quiet for a moment, lost in thought, before glancing back at Rafe. “So… I’ll just go get ready—wait! How should I dress up? Is it a casual-casual or a casual-but-nicely-dressed type of gathering?”
Rafe’s lips quirked into a smile, visibly relieved to see you bouncing back to your usual self. “Pretty sure, whatever you wear, you’ll make it look elegant, sweetheart.”
“That’s not helpful—but thanks.” You arched a brow at him, waiting.
"Just something simple," he replied with a shrug, leaning back on the couch. His eyes traveled over you, taking in your outfit—a pair of black shorts paired with an oversized, ripped T-shirt splashed with images of Barbie. Somehow, even in that, you looked hot, and he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger.
“Simple?” You tilted your head thoughtfully. “Like…a dress? Wait, maybe a skirt is better for this. But a dress is more of a party vibe…” you started muttering to yourself, lost in wardrobe decisions. “Should I wear something with prints? Oh, wait—”
“Just wear a skirt, baby,” he cut in smoothly, his gaze softening as he watched you.
That one little word—baby—made your heart flutter and stopped your train of thought cold. You caught his eyes, trying to ignore the sudden swarm of butterflies, and arched a brow at him with a teasing smirk. “Oh, I see what this is. You just want an excuse to look at my ass. Bet you’re hoping for a little peek under my skirt, huh, you perv?”
Rafe’s smirk grew, and he sat up, his blue eyes gleaming with something undeniably mischievous. “I’ll see your ass at some point during this marriage, whether it’s tonight or some other night,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “Got you speechless now, huh?”
You rolled your eyes, pretending his words hadn’t just lit a spark that was still buzzing beneath your skin. “No, actually, I was just thinking of all the ways I could strangle you.”
“Kinky,” he teased, eyes alight with amusement.
You groaned, chuckling despite yourself. “Not like that, you perv.” You waved your hand dismissively, shaking your head. “Enough of this. I’m gonna go get ready.”
Before you turned, he grinned and made a move to get up. “Can I come and watch the show?”
You placed a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down with a laugh. “Absolutely not. Stay here and be patient. I won’t be long.”
Rafe relaxed, settling back with a smirk as he watched you disappear into your bedroom, and you made sure to close the door firmly behind you.
You emerge from the bedroom an hour later, dressed in a strapless leopard-print tube top that clings to your figure just right, paired with a faded denim mini-skirt. For makeup, you opted for a natural look with a subtle glow, focusing on your lips, and you left your curls loose, letting them fall naturally over your shoulders, once again.
You walked into the hallway, slipping on your black Louboutin stilettos. As you straightened, you didn’t need to look back to know Rafe was right there, his presence a steady hum in the quiet of your apartment. You’d heard his soft footsteps the second you stepped into the hallway.
"You—"
"Watch what you’re about to say, Cameron," you cut him off, throwing a teasing glance over your shoulder, "because if it’s about my ass, I’ll slap you so hard you’ll fly out the window."
His smirk widened. "Now, I wasn’t gonna say anything like that," He let his gaze travel up and down your figure, lingering on the way your fitted mini skirt hugged your curves. "But since you brought it up—yeah, it’s the perfect opportunity to take a peek. Especially with you bent over and all."
You straightened up, narrowing your eyes at him, though a faint smile tugged at your lips. "Rafe."
He raised his hands, palms out. "Alright, alright—my bad." He let his eyes travel over you one more time, this time slower, more appreciative. "But you look nice."
"Just nice?" you teased, tilting your head slightly as you stepped closer, noting the way his eyes darkened as he drank you in.
"No..." His voice dropped, his eyes turning hungry as they lingered on you. "You look hot. Really hot."
You felt a satisfied smile spread across your face. "Perfect. That’s exactly what I was going for."
"Well, you succeeded, sweetheart," he replied, voice thick with an admiration that felt too close for comfort.
You smiled, pushing down the heat rising to your cheeks, and made your way to the door, pulling it open. Rafe followed close behind, stepping into the hallway as you both moved toward the elevator.
"So," you asked as you pressed the elevator button, "do your friends know about the arrangement, or…?"
Rafe shook his head, popping the 'P' as he answered, "Nope. None of them have a clue. Not my teammates, not my sister—nobody. So you’re gonna have to pretend to tolerate me for a few hours. Think you can handle that?"
You tilted your head, your smile turning sly. "Tolerate you? For a few hours? I mean, it’s gonna be a challenge, but I think I can manage.”
“Is that so? Gonna be that hard to put up with me?”
“I wasn’t gonna say anything, in fear to hurt your poor feelings but you are extremely annoying and hard to put up with, Rafe Cameron,” you shot back, your eyes sparkling.
“Ouch,” he touched his heart and mocked a pained expression. “You’re hurting your husband’s feelings here, sweetheart.”
“Future husband,” you corrected with a smirk. “And, womp womp!”
The elevator reached the lobby, and the two of you stepped out, making your way toward the exit. Rafe opened the door for you, his hand resting briefly on the small of your back, sending a shiver up your spine.
Outside, his car was waiting, sleek and polished under the streetlights. He held the passenger door open, and you slipped inside, watching as he rounded the front and got in beside you.
The car ride was quieter than you expected. He seemed content, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually near the gearshift. You stole a few glances at him as he drove, catching the glint in his eye as he noticed you looking.
Finally, he spoke up. "You know, if you’re gonna be my girlfriend for the night, you’ll have to act the part."
"What do you mean?"
He smirked, shifting gears smoothly as he turned onto a quieter road. “Maybe try not to glare at me every time I look at you. Oh, and try smiling, or I don’t know, pretend like you don’t find me annoying.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. "Noted. You have some more notes, Mr. Cameron?"
“I do, actually, future Ms. Cameron,” he said, glancing at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “As my girlfriend, you should probably let me put my arm around, or even hold my hand if we’re getting really freaky.”
You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. “Oh, yeah ‘cause touching your hand will make me nut, right?”
He chuckled, glancing over you, his expression full of amusement. “I mean, that’s usually how most people feel—but more seriously, we need to make this believable. The whole world has to think we’re in love.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "And here I thought this was a marriage of convenience. You know, strictly business. But since we’re giving notes then I think you should show a little more enthusiasm."
He chuckled, shaking his head as he navigated the streets. "Alright, I can do enthusiasm. How about I serenade you while I drive?"
"Oh my God! Please don’t," you laughed, shaking your head. "I’d like to keep my hearing intact."
"Suit yourself." Rafe grinned, glancing at you with a mock-seriousness. "But if I can’t sing, then I have to hold your hand. That’s the rule."
You hesitated, your heart racing at the idea of intertwining his fingers with yours. “Fine…”
He raised his hand triumphantly, a playful smirk plastered across his face. "See? You’re already getting into the spirit of things. Besides, it’s not like our lips haven’t touched—"
“Rafe!” you exclaimed, slapping his chest with a mix of disbelief and embarrassment.
“What? I’m just stating the truth,” he said, feigning innocence as he rubbed his chest, an exaggerated pout forming on his lips. “Come on, don’t get shy on me now, baby.”
“I am not shy,” you retorted, unable to suppress a smile.
“Right, and I’m the bloody king of England,” he shot back with a horrible fake British accent.
“Shut up,” you laughed, the sound echoing softly in the quiet of the car as you shook your head at his antics.
The banter hung in the air between you like a playful thread. You both lapsed into a comfortable silence, the gentle hum of the engine and the occasional rush of wind outside the car providing a soothing backdrop. As the minutes passed, anticipation buzzed in the air, making each second feel charged with excitement.
Finally, you pulled up in front of a large, ornate gate guarded by stern-looking security personnel. Rafe, unable to contain himself, leaned forward and called out his name with exaggerated bravado, “Rafe Cameron!” The gates swung open, revealing a huge house with lights everywhere.
As he parked the car, you took a moment to steady your breathing, inhaling deeply to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach. With a final exhale, you opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement. Before you stood three familiar faces, their expressions a mix of anticipation and curiosity as they waited at the door of the house.
You glanced at Rafe, who had just stepped out to join you, his presence exuding a quiet confidence that somehow eased your tension. The way he stood beside you, relaxed yet alert, made you feel a little more at ease.
“Am I dreaming, or are there three people waiting for us—and they’re jumping?” you asked, barely able to contain your laughter as you watched the trio bouncing in place, their enthusiasm infectious.
Rafe chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re not dreaming. The idiots over there are my sister, JJ, and Topper.”
“Oh, I know Topper!” you exclaimed, a spark of excitement igniting in your voice. The prospect of recognizing someone made the moment feel a bit more comfortable.
“Yeah, you do, sweetheart,” Rafe replied, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. His eyes glinted with warmth.
As you approached the animated group, the sounds of their laughter filled the air, creating a vibrant atmosphere that made your heart race with anticipation. Rafe walked beside you.
Topper was the first to spot you, his face lighting up with a broad grin as he waved. “Love birds! Over here!” he shouted, bouncing on his feet, you could tell he was slightly tipsy already.
JJ turned at the sound of his voice, his expression shifting from casual to surprise when he caught sight of you two. “What the fuck? Rafe is here with a girl—isn’t that—”
“That’s Y/N! What the actual fuck, Rafe?” Sarah exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief as she slapped JJ’s chest, the surprise evident in her wide eyes.
As you stepped into view, the weight of their stares sent a wave of nerves crashing over you, and suddenly, the words you’d rehearsed vanished from your mind. It was ridiculous—usually, you were the life of the party, friendly and extroverted. Why were you feeling so overwhelmed now?
“Hi,” you managed to say, cringing at the awkwardness of it. A rush of heat crept up your neck as you mentally kicked yourself for being so inarticulate.
“Hi, pretty girl,” JJ chimed, his grin infectious. “Now that Y/N and her boyfriend have arrived, the party can officially start!” He turned and bolted into the house with an enthusiastic shout, followed closely by Topper, leaving you alone with the Cameron siblings.
Turning your attention back to Sarah, you took a moment to admire her outfit—a stunning black leather dress that hugged her curves perfectly, her makeup expertly applied to accentuate her striking features. She radiated confidence.
“I’ve seen stuff about you two on social media, but I didn’t expect you to actually bring her here—respectfully, of course,” Sarah said, her gaze flicking to you as she finished her sentence and you simply shrugged. “This is a first for you, Rafe,” she continued, raising an eyebrow at her brother.
“I’m serious about her, so get ready to see her everywhere by my side,” Rafe replied casually, but the warmth of his words sent your cheeks aflame. “Are you the only girl here—”
“I love your dress, by the way. I don’t know if I said that already ‘cause I’m pretty tipsy, but I love it. Leopard prints suit you so well! Every time you wear animal prints on the runway, I’m always so in love with how it fits you. Oh, and I heard you’re working with Chanel right now—is that true? You can tell me; I promise I won’t spill. Plus, I’ll probably forget about it by tomorrow anyway—”
Rafe, clearly exasperated, swiftly placed a hand over her mouth. “Don’t say weird shit like that, stalker. You’re creeping my girlfriend out.”
You couldn’t help but laugh softly, placing a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “No, it’s fine.”
“You sure? Because she really sounded like a fucking creep,” he said, feigning seriousness, but you could see the hint of amusement in his eyes.
“Guess that runs in the family,” you teased, lifting yourself on your tiptoes to lean closer and whisper in Rafe’s ear, the warmth of his body radiating against you. “But thank you, Sarah. I was going to say the same about you and your dress. It fits your body like crazy; I’m honestly jealous.”
“Girl, please. Have you seen yourself?” she scoffed, her confidence shining through.
“I have, but have you seen yourself? You’re stunning, like a goddess.”
“Oh my God—”
“Alright, enough with the glazing,” Rafe interrupted, a mock-seriousness creeping into his tone. Sarah shot him an annoyed glare, which you mirrored, both of you momentarily united in your frustration. “I introduced her to you, but there are other people who don’t know she’s here, so get out of the way, Sarah.”
With that, he gently nudged her aside, his protective demeanor hinting at how much he cared, even amidst the playful banter. You couldn’t help but smile at the way he navigated the room with ease, leading you into the chaos of the party.
The room was awash in vibrant colors, illuminated by twinkling lights strung overhead. A long table was set up against one wall, laden with an enticing spread of snacks and alcoholic drinks that sparkled enticingly under the glow. The atmosphere buzzed with energy; laughter and music melded together in a lively symphony. Groups of people swayed on the dance floor, while others engaged in animated conversations or indulged in the delicious food. Rafe was right—though the crowd wasn’t particularly large, the energy was palpable, and the music was loud enough to make your heart race.
You gently tapped Rafe’s arm to get his attention, and he leaned down slightly to hear you over the din. “We’re not gonna go to each person to introduce myself, are we?”
“Hell no! Just my close friends—” he started, but his words were cut off as someone unexpectedly leapt into his arms, wrapping their limbs around his neck with abandon. Rafe staggered slightly, instinctively holding the person tight to steady them both. Your brows knitted together in confusion and irritation as you wondered who would be so brazen as to interrupt a conversation. The person had clearly come from the front, meaning they’d seen you two talking moments before.
Fucking prick, you cursed internally at the bold interloper.
When the person turned around, you found yourself face-to-face with a woman who had long, straight brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Her cheerful smile faltered briefly upon noticing you, but it returned almost instantly, though you could sense the shift in her demeanor.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry for coming in like that,” she shouted over the thumping bass, her voice bright and exuberant. “I was just so excited to see Rafey. I couldn’t contain my joy.”
You waved your hands dismissively, plastering on a friendly smile, trying to keep the peace. “It’s totally fine, don’t worry. I get it.”
“I’m Chiara, by the way. Chiara Romano,” she introduced herself, extending a hand for you to shake. You accepted, noting the warmth of her grip.
“That’s a pretty name,” you said sincerely, your tone genuine. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”
“The supermodel who fled from her country, right?” Chiara asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.
You scratched your cheek, a touch of embarrassment creeping in. “Well, not exactly, but yeah… that’s me.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Y/N,” she said with a bright smile before turning her attention back to Rafe, suddenly snatching his arm and tugging at him playfully. “Come with me, Rafey.”
Rafe, who had been uncharacteristically silent during the exchange, finally spoke, his tone firm. “Wait! No, Chiara.”
“Why? It’s gonna be fun—” she retorted, but Rafe’s tone shifted to a more serious note.
“I’m here with Y/N,” he said firmly, the protectiveness in his voice undeniable. Chiara halted her playful tugging, her expression shifting as she turned her full attention to you. “She’s my girlfriend.”
“Oh…” she said, her brows raised in surprise as she studied you intently. “Are you two serious, or not?”
You frowned, taken aback by the bluntness of her question. You knew Rafe had a reputation for jumping from one woman to the next, but he had just referred to you as his girlfriend with such conviction. That had to mean something, right? You couldn’t help but wonder what Chiara would have done if you had said no.
“We’re se—” you started, but your voice faltered.
“I want him to say it,” Chiara interrupted, a challenging glint in her eye as she turned to Rafe. “Say that you two are serious, Rafe.”
The air grew thick with anticipation as you awaited his response. The weight of the moment felt significant; this wasn’t just a casual interaction—it was a test of the fragile foundation of your arrangement. Rafe’s eyes darted between you and Chiara, a mix of uncertainty and determination swirling in them. You held your breath, knowing that you needed him to affirm the seriousness of your relationship, even if it was just for show. Rafe couldn’t afford to slip up, not when so much was at stake. You watched him struggle with the words, a silent plea hanging in the air as he held Chiara’s gaze, and you braced yourself for what would come next.
Who the fuck was Chiara Romano to Rafe Cameron?
chapter five
#the contracted heart#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#obx#outer banks#rafe x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron smut#aliyahs works#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe obx#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron prompt#rafe outer banks#outerbanks rafe#rafe x you#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#aliyahs misc#rafe cameron x you#outer banks x reader#obx x reader#obx smut
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hiiii can you do an Hyunchan x reader where the boys are really mad at her an ignorining her and she has a panic attack.
ℙ𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖
Warning: Angst/fluff
Summary: Request!
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
"Chan?" she called out softly, her voice barely rising above the hum of the quiet room as she stood by the living room door. The tension in the air was thick, heavy. It had been 12 hours since the argument, and neither Chan nor Hyunjin had said a word to her. The silence was suffocating, making her feel like she was going to lose it.
"Hyunjin?" She tried again, this time addressing the other side of the room, but once more, there was no response. Her heart pounded in her chest.
"Are you guys going to ignore me forever?" she muttered, barely more than a whisper. Still, neither of them budged, their backs turned, their attention focused elsewhere.
Her chest tightened, and the pressure behind her eyes threatened to spill over. "Please? I’m sorry… I just—please don’t ignore me," she begged, taking a few tentative steps forward, but the distance between them felt as if it were growing wider. She could feel the weight of their silence pressing down on her.
Hyunjin laid his head on Chan's shoulder, his body language as cold as his silence. They refused to look at her. The tears she had been holding back began to burn, stinging her eyes, threatening to fall as she silently begged them to forgive her for the words exchanged earlier.
Her breath hitched in her throat as she turned away, feeling the overwhelming weight of her emotions. Defeated, she slowly made her way to the kitchen. She could feel the air thick with tension, her body moving on autopilot as she began to prepare dinner. They had already eaten lunch without her earlier, and now, after just returning from practice, she was left to make dinner alone, as though everything was fine.
The tears blurred her vision, and her head spun with confusion and sorrow. It was as if the world was closing in on her, the weight of it all pressing harder with every passing second. She could hear her own thoughts, each one darker than the last, and she hated how powerless she felt to push them away.
Once the food was done and plated, she brought it to the table in silence. Her hands shook slightly as she set the plates down, then quietly made her way back to the living room.
"I made you guys some dinner, if you want it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I put it on the table. I'll go eat in the room, so don't worry about me." She didn't wait for a response, knowing it was unlikely she’d get one.
Once in their room, she sat at her vanity, the food on her plate growing cold as she picked at it slowly, each bite feeling like it was stuck in her throat. The tears started to fall, silently at first, as she stared blankly ahead, lost in her own thoughts.
Would they break up with her? The thought kept running through her mind, a constant whisper of doubt that she couldn’t shake.
She hadn’t even noticed her breathing quicken, the pressure in her chest building, until it was almost too much to bear. Her chest tightened painfully, and her hands trembled as she clutched her chest. The feeling of rejection weighed heavily on her, and she felt the panic beginning to spiral.
"Please... enough," she whispered to herself, trying desperately to compose herself, but the sobs started to escape anyway. Her head throbbed, her heart raced, and the room felt like it was spinning. She felt utterly alone.
Then, the door opened.
Her heart skipped a beat, and through the mirror, she saw Chan and Hyunjin standing in the doorway. They had finished dinner.
She quickly wiped her eyes, but the damage was done. Her tears streaked down her cheeks as she bowed her head in embarrassment. Her breathing was still erratic, but she refused to let them see her like this, not wanting them to see how fragile she truly felt.
"Y/nnie? Baby?" Chan’s voice was hoarse, filled with concern, as he hurried to her side. Hyunjin was right behind him.
Chan knelt beside her, trying to catch her gaze, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She turned away, too embarrassed, her face flushed with shame.
"Hey… look at me," he urged gently, his hand reaching to cup her cheek, his touch warm and soft.
Her breathing quickened again, and she pulled away from his touch. "Please, I’m sorry..." she whispered, her voice shaking with each breath. "Please dont break up with me, i can change."
Hyunjin's frown deepened as he knelt beside her on the other side. "Y/nnie… you’re panicking," he said softly, his eyes filled with concern. "I’m so sorry I made you feel like this."
He truly had no idea it had gone this far. He never wanted her to feel like this, never wanted to push her to the point where she felt like she might lose them.
"You… you don’t have to be with me. I’ve accepted it," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Chan’s heart sank, and he pulled her gently off the chair, guiding her to the bed. He held her close, his hands reassuring as he wrapped her in his arms, trying to calm her.
"I’ll go make her some tea," Hyunjin whispered, but Chan didn’t let go, his focus entirely on her. He nodded, thankful for Hyunjin’s understanding.
"Hey… shhh," Chan whispered, his voice soft, soothing. "It’s okay. No one is going to leave you. We were just being assholes, and we should’ve talked things out with you, Y/nnie. I’m sorry." He kissed the top of her head, his words gentle but full of remorse.
But she wasn’t sure she believed him. If she weren’t in this state, would they still be mad at her?
"But you can’t just do that to me," she cried into his chest, her voice cracking. "It hurts, Chan. It hurts so much. I would never do that to you guys."
Chan’s grip tightened around her, his voice filled with regret. "You’re right, Y/n. We shouldn’t have treated you like that. We were just so angry, and now we’re learning from our mistakes. I never want to put you through this again, baby." He gently tilted her chin, urging her to meet his eyes. "Hey… look at me."
She slowly lifted her gaze to his, and his heart melted as he saw the pain still clouding her eyes.
"My beautiful girl," he whispered, his voice soft with affection and regret. "I’m so sorry. You can put me on any punishment duty you want."
"Anything?" she asked, her voice tinged with mischief, a small glimmer of her old spark returning in her eyes.
"Anything," Chan gulped, knowing that he and Hyunjin were about to go on a rollercoaster ride of their own making. But he would do whatever it took to make things right, for her.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
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A/N: Thank you anon!
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