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jeonginsleftcheek · 3 days ago

Text

Safe embrace

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

genre: fluff, smut, best friends to lovers

wc: 16k

synopsis: your toxic boyfriend leaves you just as you find out you're carrying his child, making your worst nightmare come true. thinking you have no one and you'll have to care for the baby alone, you're pleasantly surprised when your best friend swoops in to help you out.

warnings: toxic relationship, mentions of abuse and cheating, mentions of abortion (all in the beginning), pregnancy symptoms, crying, brief description of birth (nothing graphic)

nsfw warnings: multiple sex scenes, pregnant sex, nipple play, breeding kink, breastfeeding kink, oral (f and m), fingering, unprotected sex, creampies, felix is soft and obsessed

a/n: this was kind of inspired by this drabble i wrote! hope you enjoy the full fic💙 i never wrote pregnant reader and i wanted to write something mostly sweet🫶🏻

~ divider by @strangergraphics

~ masterlist

You were standing in front of your bathroom mirror shaking, the two little lines indicating that you were pregnant.

Your eyes welled up with tears, your worst fear had come true.

You were so close to getting out of your toxic relationship and now you were bound forever to the person who abused you and treated you like crap.

Anxiety took over your body as you started sobbing, he was going to come home from work soon and you had no idea how he'd react to the news.

Around 8pm he walked in, late as usual, you knew he was cheating on you but any time you tried to start a conversation with him, he'd find a way to spin it and make it seem like everything was your fault.

In the back of your mind, you knew it wasn't but three years of verbal abuse can do a lot to a person's way of thinking, and you were used to being figuratively smacked around by your boyfriend, always making excuses for him in your mind; he's exhausted from work, he didn't mean it, someone irritated him, he'll be better next time.

He never got physical, but sometimes you thought it was just a matter of time before he starts slapping you around.

It's not like you never tried to leave, you did.

But, he always found a way to manipulate you into coming back to him and like a fool you always fell for his empty promises.

This time, you decided it was the last time and you finally gathered all of the courage you had.

You were going to leave his sorry ass and never come back again, never fall for his lies again, never feel this miserable but now you felt you had no way out of this.

"What did you make for dinner?" he asked, not even sparing you a glance as he took his tie off.

"Chicken and rice." you answered.

"Good." he said as he continued to strip and you stood there nervously, playing with your fingers.

He lifted his head up and frowned at you.

"What are you waiting for? Serve me dinner, I'm hungry." he looked at you as if you were just a maid in his house and even though you wanted to tell him to put his own damn food on his plate, your tongue was twisted like always and your legs had a mind of their own.

You did what he asked, serving him dinner, before you sat on the other side.

He sat down and started eating. Your heart was beating fast as you kept looking at him.

"There's something I have to tell you." you decided to break the ice.

"What?" he asked, an unimpressed look on his face.

"I- I'm pregnant." you said quietly and he froze before his fork fell out of his hand, clattering against the plate.

Suddenly, he started laughing.

"You're shitting me, right?"

"No, I took a few tests and they're all positive."

He continued laughing and it was not the reaction you expected.

"Whatever. Get rid of it." he said, picking his fork back up and continuing to eat.

"What?" you looked at him in shock, your heart skipping a beat.

"You heard me. I'll pay for the abortion. I don't want to have a child with you." he said like you were the most disgusting thing he's ever seen.

"I'm- I don't want to get an abortion." you swallowed and he looked up at you.

"Well, I don't give a fuck about what you want. You will do as I say."

"No, I won't!" you stood up suddenly and he looked up at you before letting out a chuckle.

"Great, I was looking for a reason to do this." he said before standing up.

"D-do what?" you stuttered, taking a step back as fear washed over you.

"Get the hell out of my house." he crossed his arms and your lips parted.

"You're throwing me out?" your eyes widened.

"Yes, if you don't get rid of that thing, I want you out."

"But I have nowhere to go." your eyes filled up with tears, you had nothing of your own, your asshole boyfriend made sure he was the one to provide you with everything so you had to depend on him.

"Do I look like I care? You're good for nothing anyways. Can't even cook a decent meal and now you wanna have a baby? Ridiculous. The only thing you're good for is spending my money."

His words stung and everything around you started spinning, your head hurt and you had trouble breathing as you started panicking.

"You didn't let me work!" your voice raised as your eyes filled with tears.

He scoffed, coming closer to you as he grabbed your wrist and you yelled for him to let you go but he started dragging you towards the front door.

"I said get out bitch! I don't want anything to do with you and whatever is inside you. If you ever come near me again I'll fucking kill you!" he yelled as he opened the door, literally throwing you out before slamming the door in your face.

You couldn't believe he reacted this way, you thought he'd use your pregnancy to manipulate you even more but he did the opposite.

You really had nothing except your phone in your pocket, not even a jacket as you shivered in the cold night air. Tears kept sliding down your cheeks as you turned and started walking down the street. Your mind was blank for some time while you were trying to process everything that happened.

You reached for your phone and saw you had texts from Felix, your best friend. A smile spread on your face instantly, he was the only good thing in your life, the only light that shined on you in your darkest moments. You decided to call him and he picked up almost immediately.

"Oh, hey bubby! I was just about to text you." he answered cheerfully, as always.

"Lix." you sniffled. "Are you home?" you almost didn't recognize your voice, you sounded broken.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Felix was worried instantly.

"Can you pick me up? Please?" you couldn't stop crying.

"Of course, tell me where you are and I will be there as soon as I can." he said, already getting up and grabbing his jacket.

You told him where you were and waited as you picked on your jeans.

Felix drove fast, finding you in less than ten minutes. His heart broke when he saw you hugging yourself and shivering without a jacket.

He ran out of his car fast and you looked up at him, fresh tears forming in your eyes. Felix took his jacket off without a word, wrapping you up in it before enveloping you in a hug.

"Shh, it's okay bubby. I'm here now." he soothed you with his warm deep voice, his hand moving in circles on your upper back.

"Let's get you warmed up, hm?" he leaned back to look at you and you nodded.

Felix turned up the heating in the car for you and the ride was silent as he drove you back to his apartment. Your mind started spinning as you stared out the window, all the possible scenarios passed you by and none of them seemed positive.

Felix led you to the couch, wrapping you up in a blanket and running to the kitchen to make you a cup of hot cocoa as you melted into the warm and soft fabric that was hugging you.

It smelled like Felix and it was comforting just like he always was.

"Careful, it's still hot." he smiled as he brought two cups of steaming hot cocoa, before sitting down next to you carefully.

"Was it him?" Felix asked with a serious expression on his face, referring to your, well now ex-boyfriend.

Felix never liked the guy, he could see right through his fake smiles and fake words. You never told him the extent of the abuse but he knew something was wrong.

"He threw me out of his house." you said, clutching onto the blanket and Felix's eyes widened.

"What? What the hell is wrong with him?!" Felix looked angry at that moment, his face becoming red and his hands clenching into fists.

"Because I'm pregnant." you finished, suddenly finding the white rug under the coffee table in Felix's living room interesting.

It was quiet for a while before you felt his hand on yours so you looked up at him and he wore the softest expression you've ever seen on your best friend's face.

"I'm so sorry, y/n."

"Well, it's not your fault. It's mine. I was dumb and let him control me, I should've left him sooner and now he dumped me and said he doesn't want me or the baby. Actually, he threatened me, telling me if I don't abort he will throw me out. And I told him that I'm keeping the baby..."

"First of all, you're not dumb, he is. I knew he was an asshole but I had no idea he was this sick. I can't believe he told you to abort, that's your decision to make anyways." Felix said and you sat quietly as he squeezed your hand.

Your eyes welled up with tears again.

"What am I gonna do now? I have nowhere to go."

Felix scooted closer to you.

"Wrong." he said with a smile and you looked at him. "You can stay here, with me."

"B-but I don't wanna impose on your privacy. And with a baby too..." you felt like a burden at that moment, like you were asking too much of Felix even though he was the one to offer it first.

"Nonsense. You're my best friend, you think I would leave you out on the street? You and your baby are more than welcome here. I will help you with everything you need and you can focus on growing a life." he smiled at you and you burst into tears.

"Y-you're an angel, Lixie." you sobbed as you wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. "Are you sure this is okay?"

"More than sure, bubs. You know I love you a lot?" he said, his eyes full of warmness as he smiled at you sweetly, caressing your head.

"I love you too, Lixie." you held him tightly.

"Now, drink your cocoa before it gets cold." he chuckled, handing you the cup.

You felt so blessed to have someone like him as a best friend and the horrible feelings that filled you up earlier were now in the back of your mind.

"You must be exhausted." Felix noticed as you kept sinking into the couch while you drank the cocoa and he yapped about his favorite games to get your mind off of everything.

"Actually, I am." you nodded.

"Are you hungry? I'll make dinner and you can take a nice hot shower." Felix smiled.

"I don't even have any clothes." your eyes welled up with tears again.

"You can wear mine. Don't worry about anything." he quickly shook his head and you nodded as he reached to touch your face, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

When you stepped into the shower, you were left with your thoughts again.

You thought about your life, your now ex boyfriend and how you let yourself get into this situation where you couldn't even help yourself and had to depend on someone else helping you.

And now you had a life growing inside you, your ex's words ringing in your head; how you're not capable of doing anything properly, not even cleaning or cooking let alone anything else, how are you going to take care of another human being?

You couldn't stop crying but you didn't want to worry Felix and stay in the shower for too long so you tried to dry your tears and look normal as you got dressed in the clothes he gave you.

Felix turned to look at you as you walked in and his heart hurt when he saw the redness in your eyes and your sad face, you've never looked this down before.

"I made some ramen. That was the fastest thing I could whip up but tomorrow we can go shopping for some groceries because you need to eat healthy from now on. Oh and you're gonna need to make a doctor's appointment. Don't worry, I'll go with you." he talked as he served dinner and you sat with your hands in your lap, crying quietly as your tears soaked the fabric of the shirt you were wearing.

"Y/n?" he leaned down to look at your face.

"I'm sorry, Felix. I just feel so bad." you sniffled.

"Hey, it's okay, really. I told you I don't mind taking care of you, in fact it makes me happy."

"It's not just that." you hiccuped as he sat next to you, grabbing your hands and rubbing circles with his thumbs.

"What is it?" he tilted his head at you.

"I don't think I will be any good at this." your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

"What? Being a mom?" Felix frowned and you nodded.

"You're gonna be an amazing mom, y/n. I've known you almost my whole life and you're the most caring and responsible person I know. Look, I know everything seems terrifying right now, you just found out you're pregnant and your ex acted like an asshole so you're pretty shaken up. What you need is food and sleep. And to stop thinking about things that haven't even happened yet, hm?" Felix played with your fingers and you nodded, wiping your tears away.

"You're right, I can't even think straight right now. There is so many emotions inside me that I don't know where to start."

"Let's start with dinner." Felix smiled and you were amazed at how calm he seemed.

But on the inside, Felix was seething. He couldn't believe that your ex really had no heart, throwing you away like he did, especially when you're pregnant.

Felix was mad at himself in a way, he felt like he could've done something more to help you get out of the toxic relationship earlier and you wouldn't be as hurt as you are now.

He wished you chose him instead of your ex. Things would've been different then, Felix would treat you like a queen, the way you deserve it.

To you, Felix looked absolutely calm as he smiled at you but rage was bubbling up inside him along with the need to smash in your ex's face. But he held all that down for your sake, his top priority was to make you feel safe, not upset.

"I would give you the guest room to sleep in but it kind of became a storage room. So I'll have to get everything out and clean it up but in the meantime you can sleep in my room and I'll take the couch." Felix said after you got ready for bed.

"Oh, I can sleep on the couch, I don't wanna take your room too." you said, your face burning.

"No way, the couch is not comfortable." he shook his head.

"But isn't that gonna be bad for your back?" you worried instantly, knowing that your friend had back problems.

"I'll be okay for one night." he smiled.

"If you're sure." you chewed on your lip nervously.

"Of course."

Felix changed the sheets and prepared the couch as you barely stood on your feet, the exhaustion from the turmoil you felt washing over your body.

"Everything's gonna be okay, bubby." Felix said soothingly as he gave you a warm hug.

You didn't know what to say to thank him for everything he's doing, instead you just squeezed him tightly making him squeal and chuckle.

"Good night, y/n."

"Good night, Lixie."

As soon as your head hit the pillow, you fell asleep, drowning in the soft sheets and blankets.

Felix tossed and turned on his couch, mind racing with thoughts.

He thought about how much you meant to him, how much he had always loved you and wanted to be with you, but it was like you were blind to his love and instead kept running to your asshole ex.

He thought about how scared you must be, a protective feeling waking up inside him along with all the other feelings he had for you that he needed to learn how to suppress because you had a boyfriend.

Felix decided he was going to do his best to show you that love is supposed to be soft, comforting and sweet, not whatever your asshole ex made you believe.

The next morning when you woke up, you were confused for a second until you rubbed your eyes and looked around.

Seeing you were in Felix's room, everything that happened last night came flooding back, some kind of fear washing over you but the fact that you were surrounded by Felix's comforting scent and his things managed to calm you down.

He always had this effect on you, that's why you kept one of his hoodies for years even though it didn't even smell like him anymore; it belonged to him and that was enough to comfort you.

Shit! Your things!, you remembered, your ex threw you out without giving you any of your clothes, your knick-knacks and most importantly your laptop.

You slowly got up, following the sounds of utensils that were coming from the kitchen.

As soon as you entered, you saw a very disheveled Felix running around the stove like a busy-bee.

The smell of eggs hit you and your stomach started rising up to your throat.

"Oh, good morning y/n." Felix turned to look at you just as you covered your mouth with your hand. His eyes widened as you turned around, running to the bathroom.

"Shit." Felix cursed under his breath, turning the stove off and running after you just in time as you leaned over the toilet.

He quickly gathered your hair in his hand as you threw up, his other hand moving in soothing circles on your upper back.

"Ew." you whimpered as your eyes teared up.

"Are you okay?" Felix asked cautiously when you flushed the toilet.

"The smell of eggs was too much. I didn't think this would start already." you groaned and Felix chuckled.

"Damn, my cooking sucks that bad, huh?" he joked, trying to lighten the mood and you giggled.

"We can work on that." you winked as he smiled at you.

"You know what? I will look up what's good for you to eat right now with the sickness and all, and I'll make it for you." he said.

"That's sweet, Lixie but I can make it myself, don't worry about it." you quickly shook your head.

Felix pouted at you before grabbing your face. Your heart skipped a beat.

"Listen to me. I enjoy taking care of you so let me do this for you."

"Fine." you sighed as you made your way back to the kitchen.

"Remember that time in high school when you got shitfaced?" Felix smirked at you, throwing the half-burnt eggs in the trash.

"Oh my god, please don't talk about that." embarrassment washed over you.

"Come on, we can laugh at it now. You were so funny, you couldn't even talk properly. And you tried to climb on the table and dance. I think if I didn't catch you, you'd probably break a bone or something." Felix snickered as he searched up some breakfast ideas on his phone.

"Ha ha, very funny that I almost got a concussion by being a lightweight." you rolled your eyes with a smile.

"Nah, I would've caught you before you hit the floor anyways." Felix smiled, making your stomach flutter.

"Hey, I have some of these things in my kitchen. Oats and almonds and such." he showed you a recipe he found and you nodded.

"I can make that too, it's no biggie." you started getting up but Felix shook his head.

"I know you can. But I want to do it for you."

You couldn't argue with him and he seemed genuinely happy about making you breakfast so you sat down and waited, playing with your fingers.

"You know, I remembered that I never had the chance to get all my stuff from my ex. My laptop is still at his place." you chewed on your lip.

"I'll get them." Felix said nonchalantly as the two of you ate.

"A-are you sure? He can be... an uncomfortable person." you grimaced and Felix chuckled.

"Bubby, I have a 3rd degree black belt in taekwondo. I could break him in half if I wanted to." he smirked, making you giggle.

"You're right, I forgot with how innocent you look." you teased and Felix laughed.

"All the better. He won't know what hit him." he sat up straight then made a few moves with his arms acting like he was cutting the air into pieces.

"Okay, just don't get in trouble, killer."

When Felix left to get your things, you decided to clean up the kitchen. You didn't want to feel like you were just waiting for him to do everything for you, you wanted to do your part and help him out when he took you in without even thinking twice.

Felix must be an angel, that's what you thought as you smiled to yourself while washing the dishes.

Your angel was currently parked in front of your ex's house, his hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles turning white from the way he held onto it.

He was trying to calm his anger down, the one that surfaced as he thought about your disgusting boyfriend yelling at you and throwing you out into the cold night.

Felix had to walk in there with a cool demeanor, otherwise he would end up letting his anger get the best of him and he'd show the guy just who he had crossed.

After taking a few deep breaths, Felix finally made his way to the door and knocked. Shuffling could be heard from the other side before your ex opened the door, giving Felix the elevator eyes.

"Oh, you." the guy scrunched his nose up.

"I'm here to pick up y/n's things." Felix said calmly.

"Whatever, just do it quickly. It's junk anyways, you saved me the time I would lose throwing it out." he shrugged and Felix could feel the anger course through his veins but he had to bite his tongue.

He tried to gather all your stuff as quickly as he could, putting it in a bag he brought, making sure to take your laptop too. A small smile danced on his lips when he saw you still had his favorite hoodie. He grabbed it and put it in the bag too before turning around to leave the room.

"I'm assuming y/n ran to you immediately." your ex scoffed. "Makes sense, she's not capable of taking care of herself anyways."

Felix's eyes darkened.

"You better watch what you say." his voice dipped low.

"Or what?" your ex folded his arms on his chest, staring at Felix.

"Or you'll regret it."

"Ooh, I'm so scared!" he mocked as Felix made his way out of the house.

"Don't even think of coming near y/n again or trying to contact her. Matter of fact, I don't wanna hear you say her name ever again." Felix said and turned on his heel, not giving your ex time to respond as he frowned on the porch.

"I had no idea you kept my hoodie." Felix smiled as you rummaged through your things and your face heated up.

"Oh... Of course I did. It was a gift." you smiled back.

"Yeah, I remember that day like it was yesterday. We were at Jeongin's birthday party."

2 years ago

You had been invited to yours and Felix's mutual friend's party for his birthday. Getting your boyfriend to go with you was another story.

"Why do I have to go? I don't even know Jeongin well. And why would you want to go there alone? We should stay at home." he said.

"But Jeongin is my friend! He invited me and I already bought a gift."

"So what? You can just give it to him some other day. I was hoping we could stay in tonight." he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him.

"B-but I really want to go." you said.

"Fine. Go. But there will be consequences."

"What?" your eyebrow lifted in shock. "What are you talking about?"

"If you want to find out, just go to the party." he smirked at you.

"I- Just... just come with me? Please?"

He looked at you, pursing his lips as he thought about it. There would be so many guys there, is what ran through his mind. He didn't think you were that pretty but a horny drunk guy would fuck anything that walks so he decided it would be best if he went just so he could keep an eye on you.

"Fine."

Unaware of his thougths, you squealed happily, giving him a hug.

But everything went wrong at the party. Your boyfriend thought you had lingered too much while hugging Jeongin, making his delusional mind come up with all sorts of scenarios of you cheating on him.

He got drunk and made a scene, calling you a cheap slut before he left the party, leaving you behind. You cried as you ran to the back porch, wanting to catch some fresh night air in hopes of calming down.

"Hey, you okay?" it was Felix, who followed after you.

"Not really." you sighed, wiping your tears away as you shivered.

He noticed you were cold so he took off his hoodie.

"Here, you can have it." he smiled sweetly at you, making you melt instantly as you thanked him.

"You know you can do so much better than him, right?" Felix asked as you drowned in the warmth his hoodie provided.

"We all have our flaws, Lix. He's not that bad. He'll realize he was wrong and apologize to me once he's sober." you shrugged.

"Are you sure? Because if he-"

"Lix, it's fine really. You don't have to worry."

Of course it wasn't fine, the whole relationship kept spiralling downwards after that, bringing you to your current situation.

"Y/n?" Felix brought you out of your thoughts as you clutched onto his hoodie.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I got distracted." you smiled and he smiled back at you. "Lixie, thanks for being there for me always. I know I kind of ignored you lately but my ex didn't like me talking to other guys."

"What an insecure pig." Felix said and you chuckled. "But of course, I told you I'd always be there for you. Now, I'm gonna clean out the guest room and then we can call to make a doctor's appointment, does that sound good?"

"Yeah, sounds perfect. Do you need me to help?"

"No, it's all heavy stuff i have to move." Felix shook his head so you offered to make lunch.

While you were making it, you remembered what your ex said.

'Can't even cook a decent meal and now you wanna have a baby? Ridiculous.'

Your eyes watered instantly and you quickly wiped off the falling tears, continuing to cut veggies. You heard Felix moving around stuff and grunting as you cooked, humming to yourself.

"All done." he came into the kitchen with his hair messy and a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Something stirred in your gut for a moment but you ignored it.

"I'm almost done too. The smell of the meat is bothering me a little." you said and Felix gasped.

"Oh, let me finish up then." he quickly made his way to you.

"Maybe you should shower first." you took a step back from him and he pouted.

"Are you calling me stinky?"

"Mhm." you grimaced and he laughed.

"Fine, I get it. Be back in 5 minutes." he practically ran out of the kitchen and you let out a breath you were holding.

It wasn't that the scent of him made your stomach rise, quite the opposite, he suddenly smelled even nicer to you than before and once he came closer you felt it in your core. You scolded yourself for thinking about Felix like that and tried to ignore it as you finished up lunch.

When Felix came back, his hair still damp from the shower you looked at him in anticipation as he sat down to eat. Anxiety washed over you as you expected to be chastised for being a lousy cook even though you know in your heart Felix would never say something like that.

"Mm, this is delicious. I must say, I don't eat very healthily since I work a lot and this is refreshing." he smiled at you and relief took over.

"Thank you, I'm glad you like it." you smiled back at him.

After lunch, you called to make a doctor's appointment and Felix had some work to do on his computer, luckily he was mostly working from home as a programmer, only going to the office twice a week or more if needed for a project.

"I hope the bed is comfy enough." Felix said as you were getting ready to sleep in the guest room, which was now your room.

"Lixie, please, I'm grateful to have a bed at all." you sighed and he grabbed your hand.

"We'll get through this." he whispered and you nodded.

"I know."

A few days later, Felix and you walked out of the hospital with news that you were 6 weeks pregnant and that thankfully the baby was doing well.

"See, you had nothing to worry about." Felix smiled at you as the two of you got in his car.

But your emotions got the better of you immediately as you started crying.

"Oh, y/n?! What's wrong?" he leaned towards you, worry evident in his voice.

"I don't know, I- I think I'm crying from relief." you sniffled and Felix smiled at you fondly. "Let's just go home." you added, not even realizing that you called his apartment 'home'.

But Felix did, and his stomach filled up with butterflies that wouldn't stop flying around his insides until he parked in front of the building.

"I'm not feeling the best." you clutched at your stomach as you walked in, the feeling of nausea taking over your body. It was exhausting but you kept trying to remind yourself that this was just a phase, the worst part of it and that it will get better with time.

Some days it worked, other days it was unbearable. Today seemed to be one of those other days as your emotions were all over the place.

"Okay, go lay down and I will make some lunch."

Felix took it all so seriously, stepping up immediately as if it was his baby which made your heart clench in your chest. He made sure you were comfortable, brought you some tea and crackers for nausea, even pressed his lips on your forehead as he tucked you in.

When he left the room, tears started sliding down your cheeks and soaking your pillow.

You felt like you didn't do anything to deserve someone like Felix taking you in, and the burden of a baby that had nothing to do with him and you had no idea why he would go to such lengths to make you feel good. Yes, of course you knew that he cared about you but you felt beyond grateful and humble, trying to think of a way to give back.

But, Felix saw this as a second chance with you. A chance he would not let go to waste like he did before, when he held his tongue and his feelings back, never even hinting to you how much he loves you. It was enough for him that you were there and that everything was fine with you and the baby, the rest was not as important.

"I can't believe you're actually pregnant." Felix chuckled as the two of you chilled on the couch after dinner, some romantic comedy playing on tv.

"I can't believe it either." you chuckled with him. "I think it'll be more believeable when I start looking the part." you added and Felix froze for a moment.

How could he forget?

He'd already noticed your breasts getting bigger and he felt bad for the way he kept stealing glances at them all the time, but at the end of the day he's just a man.

It wasn't his fault that they looked rounder, and that you didn't care to wear a bra next to him, your nipples poking under the material of your shirt constantly, the way they swayed or jiggled with any movement you made.

Felix felt his dick twitch and he started beating himself up immediately. It's barely been two weeks since you were at his place, and he knew you were vulnerable and the last thing he would want to do was to make you feel like he was pouncing on you instantly.

God, he got so used to keeping his feelings and urges about you to himself, why was that so hard all of a sudden?

"Excuse me." Felix stood up rather quickly and you looked up at him shortly, watching him scramble to get to the bathroom.

You shrugged, continuing to watch the movie as you snuggled closer to the spot he was lounging in, the couch still warm and smelling like the body wash he used earlier. For some reason, you wanted to roll in it but you settled on stealing his spot and taking deep breaths.

Felix was trying to exercise deep breathing too, as he stood in the bathroom, willing his cock to soften up. Just the thought of you being all round and cute had him so worked up. How is he supposed to survive this?

Somehow, he managed to calm down and when he came back to the living room, his heart fluttered when he saw you dozing off in his spot.

"Bubby? You wanna sleep?" he said quietly, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear gently.

"Mm." you mumbled, half asleep.

"Cutie." Felix chuckled fondly before he gently lifted you up and carried you to your room.

"Lixie." you reached out for him blindly as he laid you down.

"It's okay, I'm here. Get some rest." he caressed your head before going back to the living room.

Your dreams were filled with images of your best friend that night, fleeting pictures of a relationship that never happened appeared in your mind, ending with the two of you holding a baby in your arms.

Couple of weeks later, you and Felix fell into a nice rhythm. He was mostly home, only having to go to the office twice a week, sometimes four days if he was working on a bigger project. You were glad he was there because your nausea has gotten worse and Felix didn't mind helping you out as always, cooking and cleaning together with the work he was doing.

You felt bad for that again, crying to him how you feel like you're not doing anything in the house and Felix was quick to shut all those thoughts down.

"Y/n, you are growing a literal human being. That's exhausting, your body is changing rapidly and you're scared. And that's normal and it's okay." Felix held you in his arms.

"How are you so understanding?" you hiccuped as you gripped his shirt, soaking it with your tears.

Because I love you.

Because I wanna make you happy.

Because you deserve this and more.

"I've been reading some books." Felix smirked playfully instead of saying all the other thoughts that crossed his mind at first.

You looked up at him before bursting into laughter, smacking his chest as he giggled at you.

It was getting harder for him every day, living with you and being together 24/7 felt so domestic, especially with you being pregnant and Felix kept daydreaming that the baby inside you was his baby too.

It didn't help that your tits just kept getting bigger and that you finally had a little bump to indicate the precious life growing inside you and Felix was obsessed with the way it looked on you.

You were slowly coming to terms with it, everything felt so surreal because it was happening so fast and you knew that even though it seems hard and exhausting right now, the baby would come very soon and then the real work will begin.

You spent a lot of time looking at your body in the mirror, checking it out and trying to accept that you were changing forever. It was hard but Felix was there for you, taking care of you, never missing a doctor's appointment, cooking for you, his arms always open to take you into his embrace where you felt the safest.

You had no idea how you'd get through all this if it wasn't for him, so when he left to work at the end of the week, you decided to make him a chocolate cake as a thank you even though you knew the pastry wasn't enough for what he was doing for you and your baby.

You were glad you woke up feeling somewhat less nauseous that day so you could function normally. Baking the cake proved to be fun as you blasted some music and enjoyed making something sweet for Felix.

"Bubby, I'm home!" he yelled out as he walked in around 4pm, while you were cleaning up in the kitchen.

"Hey, Lixie." you smiled at him as he came into the kitchen.

"How are you feeling?" he made his way to you, his arms wrapping around you automatically.

"Good, actually." you melted in his embrace as he held you from behind, his hand sliding down to caress your tummy. It was comforting when he touched you like that.

"Something smells nice." Felix chuckled, burying his face in your hair and you could feel the tip of his nose brushing against your neck. Goosebumps appeared on your skin as you pressed your body back into his without even realizing it.

"I baked you a cake." you said, not noticing the way Felix's breath hitched when your backside pressed into his middle.

"You did?" he asked happily, moving away from you because he was moments away from losing his mind.

"Mhm, chocolate, your favorite." you said as you walked over to the fridge to take it out.

"You spoil me, bubby." he grabbed your face, kissing the tip of your nose.

You were so close to grabbing his shirt, pulling him into you and kissing his sweet, inviting lips.

"You should eat lunch first. Dessert later." you said and Felix chuckled.

"I ate at work. I want my treat." he pouted, acting all sulky and you couldn't resist his adorable face.

You cut two pieces and the two of you sat down.

Felix dug in immediately, you knew he always had the biggest sweet tooth and he baked you his brownies hundreds of times so you wanted to show your appreciation.

"Mm, I love it!" he smiled happily and your heart fluttered as he munched on the cake cutely.

"Really? Is it better than your brownies?" you smirked, teasing him and he coughed a little before smirking back at you.

"Let's not go that far." he teased back and you smacked his arm playfully as he chuckled.

Fridays were always reserved for movie night and cuddles so later that evening Felix and you were settled on the couch together.

You noticed he looked tired and kept touching his neck, grunting under his breath quietly.

"Are you in pain?" you asked and his eyes widened a little before he looked at you.

"Oh, it's nothing. I just didn't have any time to stretch today because we had this big project to finish up before weekend. Basically, my neck and shoulders are on fire but it'll pass, it always does." Felix shrugged, waving it away with his hand like it was nothing.

"Lixie, let me give you a massage. I wanna help." you offered, having no idea that the thought of your hands on him like that had Felix twitching.

"No, it's fine really. You don't need to do that, I'll just sleep it off."

"Nonsense, come on." you motioned with your hands and Felix nodded, not wanting to upset you as he turned around.

He took a deep breath in, trying to calm down as you gathered his hair out of the way, your fingertips brushing against his sensitive neck and ears, making him shiver.

A blush appeared on his freckled cheeks, spreading to the tips of his ears and down to his neck as you sat closer to him, your legs around his frame as you put your hands on his shoulders.

"You're so tense." you snickered quietly, your breath hitting his skin.

"Ha... yeah, well I was sitting at my desk all day." Felix bit his lip, shutting his eyes tightly as you started to massage him.

"Jeez, relax. You're so stiff." your gripped his shoulders, trying to roll them back a little and he laughed nervously.

"Oh you have no idea." he said and you furrowed your brows, shaking your head as you continued giving him a massage.

He managed to relax after some time as you worked your magic on his neck and shoulders. It was so quiet around you that the action felt so intimate and you found yourself scooting closer to Felix. His neck looked pretty and inviting and suddenly you just wanted to press your lips on his skin.

And that's exactly what you did as you leaned in, mindlessly pressing your lips on the back of his neck.

Felix nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned to look at you, his face red as a tomato.

"What was that for?" he swallowed and you chuckled embarrassingly, playing with your hands.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I- I just leaned in and-"

"No, it's fine." Felix saw that you were getting upset immediately, your mood swings getting the better of you lately. "Just wasn't expecting it."

"Is you neck better?" you asked, ignoring the way your face burned.

"Oh yes, definitely. Thank you for that, bubby." he smiled at you and you felt warmness spreading inside your chest.

Felix laid in his bed restless. He couldn't stop thinking about your touches and the way you kissed his neck. He couldn't help it as his hand wandered down to his boxers, gripping his bulge before he started palming himself.

"Fuck." he grunted quietly, biting down on his arm as he pushed his underwear down just enough to take his leaking cock out and wrap his fingers around it.

He felt dirty for it but his mind swam with thoughts of you as he sped up, trying to finish as quickly as he could. He checked up on you earlier and you looked so sweet while sleeping soundly, he knew you felt safe with him and that was his number one goal.

He wanted nothing more than to make you feel comfortable and relaxed, to make you feel good. He wished he could cross the line and bring you pleasure the way you deserve it. With how selfish your ex was, Felix doubted he ever made any effort around you in that area too.

His mind wandered to your body then, specifically to your chest and he imagined himself sucking on your sweet nipples and that was enough to make Felix snap as he twitched and came all over his hand and abs.

He gasped, riding his high, his eyes teary.

After cleaning up quickly, he laid back in bed and fell asleep fast, trying not to think about the fact that he just touched himself to the thought of you.

"Lixie?" you gently knocked on his door before opening it, tears sliding down your cheeks.

"Felix?" you slowly made your way to his bed and he groaned in his sleep, his eyes fluttering open.

"Y/n?" his voice was deep and scratchy as he squinted at you. "What's wrong?" he sat up when he noticed you were crying.

"I had a nightmare." you sniffled and his expression softened as he lifted up his blanket.

"Come here, bubby." he invited you in and you plopped down in his bed, settling your back against him. It wasn't the first time you cuddled like that but you haven't shared a bed in so long, not since you started dating your ex.

Felix wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his body gently, nuzzling his face in your hair and the back of your neck.

Goosebumps rose on your skin as he caressed you gently, his hand landing on your tummy.

"Wanna talk about it?" he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin.

"N-no. It was about my ex and I don't wanna give him any more attention that he doesn't deserve."

"He's not gonna hurt you or your baby. And if he tries I will fucking kill him, so don't worry about him sweetheart." Felix held you a bit more tightly, but was still careful with your tummy.

"Lixie. I love you." you kissed his hand as your fingers entwined and he smiled.

"I love you too, bubby. More than you know."

And with that you fell asleep in Felix's safe embrace.

After that night, you had a hard time falling asleep alone; Felix's body warmth and his comforting presence lulled you to sleep so you sneaked into his bed.

Eventually, Felix told you that you can just sleep in his bed freely every night and you were more than happy to do that.

He loved having you close, but there was a battle inside him, having to resist the craving he had for you was harder than he thought it'd be. Especially when he'd wake up in the morning and watch you sleep so soundly.

It was one of those morning where he woke up first and watched you. Your belly was bigger now along with your breasts and Felix thought you looked adorable. He was admiring you, how strong you are, after everything your ex put you through and left you alone with a baby you were taking it so well. You never complained about anything, even if you were in pain but Felix knew you too well so you couldn't hide it from him.

He wanted to make your pregnancy as comfortable as he could, the thought of you suffering made his chest hurt. Felix caressed you gently as he thought about you and how much he loves you. He couldn't help himself, the emotions that have been building up even more now that you were here and so vulnerable with him started overflowing his heart, traveling through his veins and spreading through his body.

Warmness enveloped him as his cheeks burned and he leaned in, pressing gentle kisses on your cheek, down to your jaw and neck.

You stirred a little but didn't wake up as his lips touched your skin, his hand caressing your belly.

"L-Lixie?" you muttered, still half asleep.

"Bubby." Felix grabbed your face as you turned to look at him, your eyes fluttering open just in time when he leaned down and pressed his lips on yours. You gasped a little, but still kissed back as he moved his plump lips against yours.

Your heart picked up speed and you were shocked that he was kissing you out of nowhere but at the same time it was so comforting and sweet to feel his lips against yours. Felix started letting go of everything he held back, his hands slowly sliding on your arms down to your waist and belly before resting on your hips.

He licked at your lips with his tongue and you let him in, your entire body burning up. You haven't been touched passionately since forever and being pregnant meant you were extra sensitive plus it was Felix. He was your everything.

He overwhelmed you with his scent, his warmth, his touch and you melted into the sheets as his tongue massaged yours, his hands grabbing at your plushy thighs.

You gasped for air once he leaned away, looking at you with hooded eyes.

"Lixie, w-what..."

"Shh, bubby. Will you let me worship you?" he licked at his lips as his darkened eyes ran all over your body, lingering on your breasts.

"B-but... My body doesn't look the best right now. Pregnancy did things to me like stretchmarks a-and-"

"Y/n, you look fucking beautiful. Let me show it to you." he persisted and you nodded, your heart skipping a beat in excitement.

Felix leaned down to kiss you again before his lips traveled to your jaw and neck. He licked at your sensitive spot, biting the skin and sucking on it, eliciting a small moan out of your lips.

His hands slid up to cup your breasts and you whimpered as he squeezed gently, running his thumbs on your sensitive nipples.

"Wow." he lifted up and stared at them, pressing them together and you chuckled. Felix's face became red as you looked at him intently while he played with your nipples.

He gripped the end of your shirt and you nodded so he took it off, his mouth practically watering at the sight of your body. You were left only in your panties and he could already see a wet patch appearing on them.

Felix stared at you making you feel self-conscious for a moment, your arms coming up in an attempt to hide yourself.

"Don't hide, bubby. You look perfect." he gave you a small smile, his hands on your breasts again.

"Lixie." you whispered as your breath got caught in your throat.

"Mm, they're so big." he leaned in closer to your chest. "Please." he whimpered as he massaged them gently.

"Okay. Just be gentle." you said quietly.

"Of course." he said before running his tongue over your sensitive bud.

You whimpered, instantly feeling a wave of hotness run through your body, your pussy dripping and soaking your already damp panties. Felix wrapped his pretty lips around your nipple and started sucking, his eyes fluttering shut in delight as he moaned around you.

You were getting incredibly wet, probably because of your hormones, you were more turned on than ever, your pussy throbbing for to be touched.

"L-Lix." you whined as he gently kissed your breasts, alternating between massaging them and sucking on them.

His hands slid over your belly and he smiled at you.

"You're so beautiful. And strong. You know that?" he said and your eyes watered.

"Stop praising me, I'm gonna cry." you answered, feeling sensitive everywhere.

"If it's happy tears then they're welcome." Felix pressed a kiss on your belly as he rubbed your thighs, his fingers tracing your stretchmarks.

"Is this okay?" he asked and you nodded.

He looked at your bump, almost going cross-eyed from the closeness of it and you stifled a laugh.

"Sorry baby, close your eyes and ears now." he grimaced and you let out a chuckle.

"Gotta make mommy feel good." Felix smirked at you, his hand coming closer to you panties.

He ran his middle finger on your folds and you whimpered, shivering instantly.

"So wet for me, hm?" he looked smug and your legs shook for a moment as you nodded.

"Take them off, please." you whined quietly.

"Anything you want, my sweetheart." Felix said before hooking his fingers in your underwear and sliding it down. He threw it somewhere behind him, his eyes fixed on your pretty pussy.

His brows furrowed as he brought his finger between your folds, going up and down slowly, spreading the wetness on your clit and pressing into it in circular motions. You were so sensitive that you couldn't contain your moans or your middle chasing his touch and Felix observed you, how quickly you were unraveling because of his touch.

"Can I taste you, bubby?" he gave you his puppy eyes and you giggled.

"Sure." you could never say no to that face.

Felix leaned in, the tip of his tongue licking at your clit immediately and you moaned loudly, your hand flying to his hair. He groaned when you gripped the blonde strands, encouraging him to taste you further. He let his tongue slip between your folds as he closed his eyes, enjoying your pussy like it was his last meal ever.

Your legs were shaking, automatically trying to close around his head which you couldn't even see properly because of your bump. You gripped his hair harder as you lifted up a little to see his face, his eyes closed as he kept moaning into you, looking all blissed out giving you pleasure like that.

It made you even more wet to see him enjoying it, his nose brushing against your clit perfectly as he made out with your pussy, pushing his tongue as deep as it can go, fucking you with it while he gripped your thighs.

"I'm- I'm close!" you whimpered, pulling on his hair harshly and making his eyes roll back in his head.

"Cum for me, bubby." Felix groaned, his deep voice even deeper in his arousal as he kept devouring you.

"L-Lix! Lixie!" you almost pulled all his hair out as you gripped hard, your legs closing around his head while you painted his face in your release.

Felix loved it, loved that he made you feel so good that you fell apart against him.

"Mm..." he lapped you up as you shook from your intense orgasm.

"Need more." you whispered, feeling like you were out of your mind in that moment.

"Of course, beautiful. Tell me what you need." Felix hovered over you, ready to make any wish you have come true.

"Y-your fingers." you moaned and he smirked, bringing the tips of his fingers on your folds.

"My fingers? How many?"

"Two." you answered quietly as he kept smirking.

"As you wish." Felix ran them on your wetness before slowly pushing them in. You moaned, gripping at the sheets instantly as you took in the way he looked, all disheveled and worked up from tasting you. A shiver ran down your spine as he pushed in, your pussy taking his fingers with no resistance.

"Fuck, what a good girl you are." Felix groaned as he started moving his fingers inside you, the wet sounds made your ears red in embarrassment.

"Oh you like that?" he smirked as you clenched around him. "You like being called a good girl?"

"Yes." you moaned out, pushing up into his hand as he started fucking you faster, the tips of his fingers finding that special spot quickly.

"What about my good girl?" he emphasized, making you clench around him yet again so he sped up, the force of his arm making you shake.

"Y-yes! Oh my god!" your legs shook as he started quickly flicking his fingertips over your clit while pounding into your sweet spot.

You were starting to see stars as you moaned loudly, and Felix leaned in to suck on your nipple, making it the last straw before you clenched around him and squirted all over his hand.

"Oh." you gasped as Felix looked at you.

"That's so hot." he groaned.

"Lixie, please." you felt like your mind was gone and all you could think about was his cock filling you up.

"Mm?"

"Please, fuck me." you gripped at his arm and he chuckled.

"Never thought I'd hear my sweet bubby say something so dirty." he chuckled and you smacked his arm, feeling annoyed and needy.

"Never thought this could happen but here we are." you said, pulling him closer with your legs.

Felix chuckled as he took off his underwear, now completely naked and you looked down, mouth watering at the sight of his pretty dick, all hard and leaking just for you.

He saw the way you were looking at it so he pressed his tip on your folds, massaging them a little before slowly pushing his tip in.

"Ah!" you moaned, gripping at the sheets as Felix stretched you, slowly filling you up until he bottomed out.

"You feel perfect around me, bubby." Felix groaned as he leaned down to kiss you, making you taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

Your legs wrapped around him and you brought him as close to you as you could.

"Just be careful." you whispered and he smiled, caressing you face as he looked at you lovingly.

"Always." his hands slid down to your hips as he leaned up and started moving inside you slowly, dragging his cock against your velvety walls and making you feel every inch of him claiming you.

Felix hated the fact that your ex had you like this when he didn't deserve to have you at all. He hated that it was your asshole ex who gave you a baby instead of him, the ultimate connection between two lovers.

But when Felix looked down at your face, the way you stared up at him like he hung the stars in the sky, little moans escaping your lips as you gripped at his arms, your tits jiggling with every movement of his hips and your cute baby bump, his heart softened.

He was going to love this baby as if it was his own.

Felix continued fucking you, making you cum three more times as you shook from overstimulation, begging him to just cum inside you.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his cock twitching at the thought.

"Well, I'm already pregnant, we're clean and it's not harmful so yes." you said as he slowed down, trying to keep himself sane.

"Fuck, you really want my cum inside you, hm?" he gripped your hips as he fucked you faster and your pussy clenched around his length.

"Yes- please!" you almost screamed out, your legs holding him in a death grip as he drilled his cock into your fucked out pussy.

"You're so cute like this. But I still wish I could breed this sweet little pussy." he groaned and you gasped.

"Felix!" you couldn't hold it in, squirting around his length as he grunted and fucked you harder.

"Fuck, you like that, huh?" he grabbed your breasts, both of you losing your minds completely.

"Ah yes, please breed me Lixie!" you begged and that was enough to push Felix over the edge as he spilled his hot seed inside you.

You dug your nails into his arms as the two of you rode your high together. Felix slowly pulled out of you, the sight of you laid out under him with his cum dripping out of your spent pussy made him grunt.

"So pretty." he ran his fingers on your folds, gathering his cum and pushing it back in.

"S-sensitive." you whimpered and he pulled his fingers out, bringing them to his lips as he licked at them.

"Wait a sec." Felix then got up as you stared at him, your entire body tingling in bliss. He came back with a warm wet cloth to clean you up, smiling at you the entire time as he kept caressing your soft skin.

"W-what now?" nervousness washed over you and Felix giggled as he tossed the cloth aside before leaning over you, his hands cupping your cheeks.

"I love you, that's what." he said, rubbing his nose against yours.

"I love you too, Lixie but... the baby, I don't wanna be a burden to you." suddenly your eyes teared up as sadness washed over you. "It's not even your responsibility to care about my baby."

He quickly shook his head, running his thumbs on your cheeks and catching your tears.

"You and your baby will never be a burden, because I love them as if they were mine. Maybe it's not my responsibility, but it's my pleasure." he said as he pressed gentle kisses on your lips.

"R-really? You wanna help me raise my baby?" your lips trembled as more tears raced down your cheeks.

"Of course, I wanna be here for you and the baby one hundred percent. I- I've always loved you, y/n. I beat myself up every day for not stepping in when your ex was basically holding you captive and abusing you."

"It's not your fault, Lix. I was dumb and naive, I was blind. He fed me sweet lies and I believed him, there was nothing you could say back then that would make me leave. I was stuck." you sat up, grabbing his hands in yours.

"I still feel like I should've protected you." he sighed.

"You're here now." you reassured him with a genuine smile and he searched your eyes for a moment before his face broke into the signature smile that reaches his eyes and warms up your soul.

"I am. And I don't plan on going anywhere." Felix leaned in to kiss you lovingly before pulling you into a hug, his hand caressing your head soothingly.

"I'm scared, Lixie." you whispered as you held onto him.

"Of what?" he asked as he kissed your temple.

"All of this. The baby, I'm almost half-way through my pregnancy and they're coming soon. I'm actually gonna be someone's mom."

"You're gonna be a wonderful mom, bubby. And you won't be doing any of it alone, I'm with you every step of the way." Felix said and the dam broke as you started crying again.

"I love you so much, Lixie." you held onto him like he was your lifeline.

"I love you more." Felix said as he kissed you and though you couldn't know exactly how he felt on the inside, you believed him.

Sitting at the doctor's office as Felix squeezed your hand, you anticipated the news you've been waiting to hear for some time now.

"Congratulations, you have a perfectly healthy baby girl." the doctor smiled at you as you gasped.

"Oh." your heart swelled, now you could start making a list of names and imagine yourself with your daughter.

"That's wonderful news! Thank you, doctor." Felix smiled as you sat there speechless, thinking about the precious life growing inside you.

"Are you okay, bubby?" Felix asked as you were silent while walking to his car.

"Just realized this is becoming more real every day. Now I can imagine myself with her, I can give her a name. I'm happy." you concluded and Felix chuckled as he caressed your cheek.

"I'm happy too." he pecked your lips. "How about we go on a date to celebrate tonight?"

"Sure, I'd love that." you nodded with a smile.

Felix and you have been officially dating for a few weeks now, and you felt so safe and relaxed with him, craving his presence more and more every day.

Of course he took you out on dates, the two of you took romantic strolls in the park, bringing some food to have a picnic there, you went to the movies and sat in the love seat, cuddling the entire time and hit the best cafés in town but you never went on a fancy date.

You had one pretty dress you were saving up for a nice occasion, it hung in the back of your closet in the guest room. You had no idea if you could even put it on now but you were willing to try.

Luckily the material was stretchy and you only filled it up more, your breasts almost spilling out of it and you chuckled to yourself, knowing Felix will definitely appreciate the sight.

"Bubby, are you ready?" you heard him yell from the living room.

"Be right there!" you yelled back, looking at your reflection one more time. You were satisfied with the way you looked, pregnancy glow was a real thing and Felix kept reminding you how beautiful everything about you is every single day, adding on to the smile on your face.

"Oh, sweetheart." Felix's eyes widened when you walked into the living room.

"Is it okay?" you asked, fidgeting with your bag.

"Okay?" he chuckled. "You're absolutely breathtaking." he came closer to you, his hands sliding on your hips to your waist and belly as he caressed it gently.

He smirked suddenly, his hands cupping your breasts.

"Lixie." you chuckled, smacking his arm with your little bag and he laughed.

"Sorry, I just wanna rub my face there." he bit on his lip. "One squeeze?" Felix pouted at you cutely, batting his long eyelashes, the little menace.

"Just one." you warned and he nodded, gripping your breasts as he leaned in to kiss you roughly, his tongue swirling around yours hungrily.

When he leaned back you were breathless.

"Let's go or we will never leave." you chuckled.

"Fine." he whined playfully as the two of you made your way out.

Dinner was fun, finally sharing a nice meal out with Felix felt so rewarding as the two of you reminisced of high school and college days.

You realized he was there with you the entire time, he never insulted you, never yelled at you, never made you feel less than, he always made you feel so truly happy, always thinking of your needs and preferences. You've never met a man like Felix and you were thankful to have him in your life.

You wanted to show him how thankful you were as soon as you got home, your hormones were raging lately and you were constantly horny which was fun for the both of you (maybe not for the baby).

Felix was so cute to you, always hovering over you with his adorable smile and silly antics, he was like a little kitten rubbing against you whenever he could.

That was the case as soon as you sat down on the couch, he nuzzled his face between your breasts immediately.

"Mm." he sighed happily, rubbing his cheek against you as he placed his hand on your tummy.

"Having a good time?" you chuckled, caressing his head and he nodded.

"Let me make it even better."

You grabbed his face, bringing his lips to yours as you kissed him. Felix melted into you instantly, his hands on your breasts like always as he squeezed them and played with your nipples gently.

You gripped his hair, leaning his head back as you started kissing his neck and Felix whined deeply, the sound creating vibrations against your lips.

You kept kissing him, your hands roaming on his abs as you pushed them under his shirt, before sliding your hand down and gripping his bulge.

"Y/n." Felix moaned against your lips.

You smirked, leaning back as you unbuckled his pants and slowly slid down to your knees between his legs.

Felix gasped in shock, hands flying to grab your shoulders instantly.

"What are you doing?!"

"Showing you my appreciation." you kept smirking.

"Bubby please, you don't have to do that. I don't want you to kneel if it's uncomfortable or painful."

"Felix. I'm pregnant, not made of glass." you chuckled as you palmed him and you could see him losing his resolve as he melted under your touch.

"F-fine but if it's too much, stop any time. Don't think you have to do that to appreciate me." he gave you a small smirk as he cupped your chin. "It's enough when you lay all pretty for me and let me worship you." he added and you almost moaned out loud as your pussy clenched, slick gathering on your already soaked panties.

"I know but I wanna worship you too." you said, your voice becoming raspy from arousal.

"I won't stop you." he snickered as he lifted his hips so you could strip him.

You licked your lips at the sight of his cock, hooking your arms under his thighs as you brought him closer to the edge of the couch. Felix squealed from the strength you pulled him with, his cock twitching when your breath hit the leaky tip.

You leaned in closer as you wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock, your tongue on his slit, catching the beads of precum and savoring the salty taste of him. Felix held onto the the edge of the couch, nails digging into the material as you swirled your tongue around his tip before wrapping your lips around him. He groaned, his eyes full of lust as he looked down at you and you kept your eyes on him, taking more of his length in and enjoying the feeling of his hardness on your tongue.

Felix was holding back, you saw the way he was biting on his lip, his breaths ragged as he fisted at the couch cover. You slid down more, bobbing your head up and down slowly as you reached out to grab his hand. You placed his hand on your head as you moaned around him, encouraging him to relax and enjoy.

He let out a moan as he gripped your hair, your eyes fluttering shut as you sped up on his cock, fondling his sensitive balls with your hand.

"Mm, y/n." Felix groaned and you looked up at him. His was was flushed, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, his lips swollen because he was biting on them the entire time. Your pussy clenched at the sight of him as you continued sucking on him, determinded to make him cum in your mouth.

"Oh my god, bubby!" Felix exclaimed, his hips moving up on their own accord, his legs shaking as you bobbed your head up and down faster. He pulled on your hair making you moan around him and you gripped his balls, massaging them while your tongue swiped over the vein on his pretty cock.

"I-I'm gonna cum!" he tried to pry you off but you swatted his hand away, your brows furrowed as you whined, sliding down until your nose was buried in his pubes, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

"Shit!" Felix twitched, groaning loudly as he spilled his hot seed down your throat and you swallowed every single drop.

You leaned back, releasing his dick with a pop and pressing a little kiss on the tip as you caressed his thighs.

"Give me a sec." he leaned back on the couch, breathing hard and squeezing his eyes shut a few times in an attempt to come to his senses.

"You okay?" you giggled.

"Ruined. But perfect. Thank you for that." he sat up, grabbing your face and caressing your cheeks.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he added and you chuckled.

"I know. Now help me get up." you said and he gasped, quickly scrambling to stand up.

"Are your knees okay?" Felix panicked immediately and you smiled at him.

"They're fine, the rug is soft." you answered and he let out a breath.

"Good. Now, let's go to our room so I can return the favor." he smirked.

"We should buy some baby stuff soon." Felix said as he caressed you. You were lying on your side, the only comfortable position now, a pillow between your knees as Felix spooned you.

"Mhm. Maybe we could go shopping tomorrow."

"Yes. I was thinking... We can make the guest room into a baby room." he said, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You turned slightly to look at him, your heart fluttering.

"Really? You would do that?" you asked, your eyes teary instantly.

"I would do anything for you and your baby." he whispered with a sweet smile on his face.

"Our baby." you whispered back and his eyes widened for a moment before he chuckled happily.

"I love you so much, y/n." he kissed you gently.

"And I love you, baby." he added, sliding down to kiss your belly as you giggled.

"We love you too, Lixie."

Entering your third trimester, you were a mess. The mood swings were strong and you felt so emotional all of the time and that coupled with the pain in your body made you cry one afternoon while Felix was at work.

You kept thinking about him and how sweet he was to you, how much he loved you and how he always put you and your baby first. You thought about your daughter and how she will be in your arms soon, your mind spinning with negative thoughts of what could go wrong an if you'll even be able to handle this.

"I'm home!" you heard Felix come in after some time but you didn't want to move.

"Bubby?" Felix searched for you, he heard sniffles coming from your room and his heart squeezed inside his chest.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" he approached you cautiously as you looked up at him all teary-eyed.

"I'm scared." you whispered and he was by your side instantly. You sat up and he wrapped his arms around you, soothing you as he caressed your hair.

"I don't know if I will be able to do this. If I'm fit to be a mom. Like what if she doesn't love me?" you whimpered and Felix looked at you, softly wiping your tears away.

"Of course she will love you, you're her mommy. And you will be the best mommy ever, I'm not just saying that because I love you, it's a fact."

"I don't deserve you." you cried harder and Felix shushed you immediately.

"Yes you do, bubby. We were made for each other. I don't even want to imagine my life without you. I've wanted this for so long, to be with you and to be able to call you mine. I've always dreamed of having a family with you and maybe this isn't the most regular way to start one but you know I love her like she is my own daughter." Felix said, his hands on your belly. "Oh, she's kicking."

"Yes, into my ribs." you said, both of you chuckling then. "You really mean all that?"

Felix smiled suddenly, sliding down to his knee and you gasped as your eyes widened.

"Lixie, what are you doing?" your heart started beating fast.

"This is not how I wanted to do it, I wanted to make it romantic with a ring and all." he started. "But, I can't wait anymore. I know we started dating only a few months ago but I've loved you since the day I laid eyes on you and maybe even before, in some other life. So, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?"

Your heart skipped a beat as fresh tears slid down your cheeks.

"Oh, Lixie." you grabbed at him. "Yes, a million times yes!" you said and he laughed happily, his eyes filled with tears too.

"I love you." you said in between the sweet kisses he showered you with.

"I love you, bubby."

"I just feel bad sometimes, you're doing all this for me and I'm not even working or doing anything to help out." you said and Felix scoffed.

"Working while pregnant? Not on my watch, bubby. You need to rest and focus on our baby. I will do everything else, I enjoy it so don't worry about not helping because the only thing I need is your love. As cheesy as this sounds, it gives me wings and nothing is hard to do when I know you appreciate it." Felix pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I'm going to cry again." you sniffled, grabbing at his shirt.

"If it's happy tears, I've done well."

You decided not to wait anymore and get married as soon as possible, you had no doubts whatsoever in your mind, you knew that Felix was your person just how he was sure that the two of you were soulmates. You had a small wedding with just your family and close friends, keeping it simple due to your pregnancy.

"You look beautiful today." Felix said as soon as you got home after a little celebratory dinner.

"You tell me that every day." you chuckled, plopping down on the couch, making Felix laugh at your cuteness.

He kneeled to help you take your shoes off.

"Are your feet in pain?" he asked and you nodded with a pout. "Don't worry, bubby. I'll give you a massage."

"Come here for a sec." you waved your hand and he stood up before plopping down next to you.

"What's up?" Felix looked at you, a contemplative look on your face and a small smile spreading on your lips.

"I just need a minute to process that we are married now." you said and he chuckled, his hand finding yours, fingers entwined.

"Suits you well. To be Mrs Lee Felix." he smirked, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss into your skin.

"Don't say it like that." you whined.

"Why?" he chuckled.

"Because I'm already out of my head horny for you." you looked at him. "Hubby." you smirked and he sputtered.

"Let's just go to our room." he wiggled his eyebrows, making you laugh.

"Help me up." you reached your hands towards him and he grabbed them, lifting you and leading you to your room.

Felix helped you strip before he laid you down, his eyes raking all over your body as he took you in.

"I'm gonna worship you for the rest of my life, wifey." he said as he stripped and kneeled between your legs.

"Me too." your breath hitched as soon as he put his hands on you, running them up and down your inner thighs, coaxing you to spread your legs more. His hand slid up to your core, thumb brushing against your puffy clit, making you whimper.

He slid his fingertips on your wet pussy, leaning down to kiss and lick at your nipples.

"Felix." you moaned, hands tangling in his hair, gripping him to ground yourself.

He grunted around your nipple and started sucking on it harder, slowly pushing his fingers iniside you.

"L-Lixie. Can we change the position?" you stopped him and he lifted up immediately with a smile.

"Anything to make you more comfortable, bubby."

You slowly turned on all fours, the only position that was pleasant lately and Felix ran his hands on your back.

"You okay, love?" he asked, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

"Mhm." you leaned back into him, his cock brushing against your skin and twitching.

"Someone's eager." Felix smirked behind you, grabbing handfuls of your ass.

"Stop messing around, I'm horny." you whined, your pussy dripping with arousal. He never answered so you were about to turn around but then you felt the tip of his cock on your wet lips.

"Mm." you melted into the bed as he filled you up slowly.

"Like this, bubby?" Felix teased, dragging his cock inside you slowly, one hand on your hip and the other on your back.

"Harder." you said breathlessly.

"Harder, hm?" he gripped your ass, but continued moving his hips slowly.

"Please!" you cried out and he leaned over you to whisper in your ear.

"As you wish." his breath tickled and before you could gather your senses Felix gripped your hips and set a relentless pace, shaking your entire body as his hips slapped into you.

"Oh my god." you gasped, grabbing at the bedsheets while he fucked you into tomorrow.

"My sweet wife." Felix grunted, giving you a little slap on your ass and making your pussy clench.

"I'll give you another baby, you know?" he leaned in to whisper in your ear again, the tone of his voice even lower than usually.

"Ah, yes!" you groaned as he tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled.

"You want that?" his other hand grabbed at your breast, squeezing it harshly.

"Y-yes! Yes!" your mind was foggy and all you could do was agree as you came around him, your pussy gripping his cock.

"You'll be mine forever." Felix practically growled while he gripped at you, fucking you even harder as he chased his high.

"Forever. My husband." you moaned and Felix snapped, whimpering in your ear as he pushed deep inside you, filling you up with his warm cum.

He continued fucking into your slowly as he rode his orgasm, making you cum once again.

When he pulled out you laid on your side with him behind you, and he propped himself on his elbow, peering down at you.

"Are you okay?" he caressed you face as you smiled at him.

"Perfect." Felix kissed you and the two of you cuddled for some time before you decided to clean up.

"You're really thinking about another baby already?" you chuckled when you laid back in bed to sleep and Felix's face became red as he sputtered.

"W-well I want to have a family with you." he said sheepishly and you melted. "Plus, you're so cute when your pregnant." he added with a smirk and you smacked his arm.

"Shut up."

Your baby's arrival was nearing and Felix was doting on you until the end. He cooked for you, gave you massages, prepared you baths, he did everything he could to make this exhausting time as comfortable as it can be.

You had fun together, watching movies and playing videogames from the comfort of your home. Felix wanted you to be happy and feel good about yourself.

He even painted and built the baby's room together with some friends who helped him out and when it was done he proudly showed off his handiwork. You started crying immediately as you were touched and Felix was there to comfort you.

"This is wonderful, Lixie. I love you." you sobbed.

"Love you the most, bubby." he kissed your tears away, like he always did.

"God, I want this baby out of me. I can't do this anymore." you whined one day, close to your due date. Everything was ready, your overnight bag, the baby's room and of course Felix, who was buzzing constantly.

"You know sex can induce labor." he smirked at you while you laid on bed together and you threw a pillow at him.

"Anything to get into my panties, hm?"

"What? I just wanna love on my beautiful wife." he looked at you with a smug smile.

"Beautiful?" you scoffed. "I look like a whale."

"A very sexy and alluring whale." Felix said with a serious face and you gasped before bursting out into laughter.

"You're dumb." you nudged him with your foot and he slid closer to you.

"Dumb in love." he smirked as you rolled your eyes at him.

He grabbed your hands in his gently, staring at you adoringly.

The vibe in the room shifted as Felix started kissing your knuckles slowly, while keeping his eyes on yours the entire time.

"You were serious about fucking?" you chuckled.

"Not fucking. Making love to my wife." he smirked as he leaned up to kiss you.

"Cheesy." you chuckled against his lips.

"Only if you're okay with it. If not I will leave you alone. Might cry a little but I'll be fine." he pouted and you giggled.

"I'm okay with it. Just be quick, I wanna nap soon." you said, making Felix laugh.

It was cute, every day spent with you in a domestic setting made his heart overflow with happiness. He had fantasized about being yours for the longest time, never knowing just how happy he would be.

You were happy too, happiest you've ever been. Even though you still had doubts and fears about being a mom, everything was easier with Felix by your side. He gave you the right amount of comfort and support, he loved you more than anyone ever had before.

All the shitty things you went through, your strained relationship with your parents, your horrible ex, the sadness that existed inside you was now exchanged for a happiness you couldn't express in words.

Felix was sitting in your room, right in the middle of a game with his friends when you appeared on the doorstep.

"Felix." you said.

"Yeah, bubby? I'll be done in a minute." he didn't turn around, too concentrated on his screen.

"You gotta be done now. My water just broke."

With that, Felix's head snapped in your direction, his eyes widened as he scrambled to get up.

"Guys, gotta go. About to become a daddy." he quickly said into the mic before running to you.

"I'll grab your bag." he said, his voice shaking in panic as you started to feel the pain.

Felix drove to the hospital quickly, probably running over a few red lights.

"I can't do this!" you screamed as soon as you were situated in the hospital.

"Yes, you can bubby! Just hold my hand, okay? Break my fingers if you need to." Felix tried to be encouraging but you gave him a look.

"I'll break more than just your fingers." you threatened before screaming in agony.

Felix screamed with you, mostly because you were actually crushing his hand.

When it was time to push, Felix nearly fainted multiple times, especially when he leaned in to see the baby's head coming out.

"Oh my god." he squealed, the nurses giving him a look as you almost pulled his arm off by yanking him away from the sight.

"Stop looking." you groaned, not wanting him to pass out for real.

Felix concentrated on encouraging you as much as he could and before long, the nurse finally placed your daughter in your arms.

The feelings swirling within you couldn't be explained in mere words as you stared at the life you had created.

"Wow, she's beautiful. She looks just like you." Felix's eyes were wide as he stared at her, his heart swelling inside his chest.

"You wanna hold her?" you asked and Felix swallowed before nodding a little.

"She's so tiny, I'm afraid I'll break her." he gasped when he took her in his arms.

"You won't." you smiled at the sight, Felix holding your daughter and looking at her with so much adoration in his eyes.

You couldn't wait to go home and start your new life, just the three of you, your own little family.

The adjusment was hard at first, everything felt surreal and the time was going by too quickly. Your daughter was already almost 5 months old and you were wondering how the hell did all that time pass.

Felix was the most helpful husband you could ask for, everything he promised he'd do weren't just empty words and you were eternally grateful to have him.

One afternoon as you put your daughter into her crib for a nap, a knock came on the door.

Felix was in the living room and he stood up to open it just as you walked in. Both you and Felix were shocked to see your ex boyfriend standing there. You weren't expecting to see him ever again, an uneasy feeling spreading all over your body as your feet got stuck in the floor.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Felix was fuming immediately.

"I- I realized I was wrong. I want to have a family with you, y/n. I've been miserable since you left." he craned his neck trying to look at you but Felix stepped in, standing straight in front of your ex.

"It's a little late for that, buddy." Felix showed the guy his wedding ring with a smirk on his face and your ex gasped.

"You got married? To him?" he scoffed suddenly.

"I suggest you leave now." Felix ignored him as you stood there, still unsure of what to do or say.

"What a slut you are." your ex smirked and Felix snapped, quickly manhandling the bastard down to his knees as he twisted his arm back and placed his foot on your ex's back.

He yelped as you gasped, never seeing Felix this mad.

"Don't talk about her like that, scum. You never deserved her. If I ever see you anywhere near my wife or my baby I will fucking kill you." Felix growled, pressing his foot harder into his back.

"Do you understand?" he pulled on his arm, almost popping it out of place as your ex moaned in pain.

"I understand." he said through gritted teeth.

"Do you really?"

"Felix, it's okay." you intervened, not wanting him to go too far.

"I understand, alright!" your ex yelled annoyingly and Felix finally let him go as he scrambled to get up.

"Fuck the both of you." he spat before leaving and Felix watched him drive away before he turned to you, his expression softening.

"You okay?" he asked after closing and locking the door.

"God, that was so hot." you threw your arms around his neck and Felix's eyes widened as he chuckled.

"Really?" he asked and you let out a laugh as he circled his arms around you, pulling you closer to his body.

"Mhm. My sexy husband." you wiggled your eyebrows as he blushed.

"Does the sexy husband get a reward from his beautiful wife?" he smirked.

"Why of course." you chuckled, leading him to your room.

"Are you sure? We haven't since- you know. I don't wanna hurt you." Felix shook his head quickly.

"I know you'll be gentle." you said, caressing his face and tracing his pretty freckles with your fingertips.

Felix smiled softly at you, leaning in to kiss you sweetly.

"We have only while she naps though." you said as the both of your started stripping.

"Okay quick but gentle." Felix nodded, making you laugh.

You were about to strip completely, when you stopped, biting on your lip.

"What's wrong?" your husband came up to you, his hands running up and down soothingly on your arms.

"My body is completely changed. And well, it could get messy."

"I like messy." Felix smirked and you shook your head with a smile. "You have no reason to be insecure with me. I love you even more than I did before. I admire you so much, you're my everything y/n. And you'll always be sexy to me."

"Felix." your lips trembled as your eyes filled with tears but he was quick to kiss them away. "I love you so much." you breathed out between kisses as his hands traveled under your shirt before he pulled it off.

The way he looked at you erased any insecurity in your mind, Felix was mesmerized, his eyes full of love and lust.

"Lay down for me." he said quietly and you smirked.

"No, I wanna be on top."

"Oh." Felix's cock twitched, straining against his boxers painfully. "Whatever you want, bubby." he licked his lips, no thoughts behind his eyes whatsoever as he kept staring at your full tits.

You pushed him down on the bed, stripping him out of his underwear so you could have all of him on display for you to play with.

You crashed your lips into his before kissing his jaw and his neck, your lips traveling on his skin, touching every precious freckle. Your nipples kept brushing against him and Felix whined, pushing his cock up towards you.

His hand flew to the back of your neck as he brought your face to his, kissing you again.

"Ah!" he groaned when your fingers wrapped around his length, giving him a few pumps as you observed his face, twisted in pleasure.

You hovered over him and he gasped.

"You're so good to me, bubby. I'm so lucky to have you." he whimpered as you ran his tip on your wet cunt.

"I'm the one who's lucky. I get to use this cock whenever I want." you smirked as you pushed the tip between your folds.

"Oh my god." Felix groaned, pushing up towards your heat. "Yes, yes, use me whenever you want!"

You slowly slid down on him and sat still, adjusting to the feeling of him inside you after some time. Felix kept staring at your tits and you smirked.

"You want these?" you grabbed them gently, jiggling them a little and you felt him twitch inside you.

"P-please. Can I- can I taste it?" he gave you his puppy eyes and you clenched at the thought.

"You wanna taste my milk?" you asked and Felix panicked.

"N-no, I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that! I'm sorry if that's weird, you totally don't have to." he sat up a little, his cock brushing against your sweet spot.

"I want you to." you said and he stared at you, his eyes wide.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Come on. Wrap your lips around it." you leaned over him, your breasts in his face and he whined as you dripped around his cock, slowly moving your hips in circles.

"Y/n." Felix moaned before giving your nipple a few kitten licks then wrapping his lips around it.

You gasped as he started sucking greedily, the taste of your sweet milk making him become rock hard inside you. Felix moaned as he swallowed, grabbing at your breast and squeezing it.

"L-Lixie!" you moaned loudly as he flipped you over, fucking into you, his hands on your breasts and lips around your nipple, drinking from you.

He couldn't get enough, fucking you with a semi-fast pace as he kept sucking on your tits. You felt so aroused, your body sensitive and you came, squirting around his cock.

"Fuck, bubby!" Felix licked at his lips, his eyes rolling back as he pulled out, jerking his cock until he came, ropes of white cum landing on your tummy and chest. You pouted at him, grabbing at his arm.

"Why didn't you finish inside?"

"I had to pull out or I'd get you pregnant again." he groaned and you giggled, biting on your lip.

"So what?"

"Baby, don't tempt me." Felix whined and you chuckled. "You should take some time to heal."

"I love that you're so caring but sometimes I wish you were just a little bit inconsiderate." you teased as he brought you into his chest, cuddling with you.

Felix laughed, the sound shaking your body as he held you close.

"Okay, I'll be a bad boy next time and forget to pull out." he smirked.

"Mhm." you smirked back and leaned in to kiss just as your daughter started crying.

"She's awake and hungry." you sat up and Felix kissed your shoulder before leaning his chin on it.

"I might be hungry for something sweet later too." he smirked and you smacked him as he laughed.

"I'm sure you will be."

Fall came around and with it all of the pretty colors had painted the leaves, it was your and Felix's favorite sight to see so you decided to go on a little stroll to the park with your daughter.

Felix pushed the stroller as you held onto his arm, taking in the scenery around you and the fresh air smelling of rain about to fall.

"What are you thinking about?" Felix asked.

"You. How happy we are." you smiled as you looked at him.

"I'm so happy." he smiled back sweetly and your daughter fussed a little.

"She's growing so quickly." you sighed wistfully and Felix nodded.

"She is. We can always make another baby." he added and you chuckled.

"I'd love that."

Later that afternoon, the rain poured outside as you sat under a warm cozy blanket with your loving husband and your sweet daughter, safe from any harm. You couldn't imagine a better life than this.

And it was all thanks to Felix loving you and making you love yourself again as the scars on your heart healed one by one.

~taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @eastjonowhere @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @halfwinterhalfuniverse

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cherry-hulu · 2 days ago

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— After hours

Synopsis: Sex, overstimulation, and aftercare. What a way to come home fron work.

Warnings: Sc x fem!free use reader x Jw, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), creampie, lots of cum, tears during sex, soft aftercare

It had been about a month since the setup was proposed to the boys. Adjusting didn't took long because you all knew what you were in for. Sex.

The rules were simple. Bracelet on means yes, bracelet off means no. More than easy to follow.

Seungcheol had never been more thankful to see someone wearing a bracelet until now. Coming back from a stressful meeting at work, a quick release is exactly what he needs.

You were laying flat on your stomach —wearing nothing a but a shirt from one of the members— while playing games on your phone. One of your legs was hiked up teasing your glistening pussy.

Completely enamoured on your game, you wouldn't have noticed the leaders presence had it not been for his unmistakable perfume. A soft kiss was placed on yout forehead, followed the the weight of a bigger body behind yours.

"Hi." You look up at Seungcheol smiling softly, he looked tired.

"Hello." He smiled back, trailing a few kisses behind your neck, down to your clothed back, and finally to your heat. "And hello to you too." He kisses your other pair of lips.

A giggle leaves your mouth, it didn't took long before it gets replaced by moans. Seungcheol's kisses was starting to become heavier and harder, the intent coming clear. His tongue enters you swiftly making you gasp and cling on the armrest of the sofa.

His fingers come to play one by one, entering you in an alternate to his tongue. Soon, he was slobbering all over you, desperately licking and sucking your juices. It wasn't just your taste he was feeling on his tongue, but the other members too.

"Mingyu had his way with you already huh?" Seungcheol mutters, two thick fingers in you curling without mercy. You whine, nodding in response already lost in the feeling. Squelches echo the room, the sound in result of the cum leftover by Mingyu and yours.

"I think that's enough, you're more than prepared, I'm sure of that." He pulls out his finger from inside of you, a trail of cum follows after leaking from your pussy. His fingers now covered in white and he hasn't even fucked you yet.

The thought made Seungcheol smile, everything about your setup was so dubious. It was hot.

Quickly unbuckling his belt, he pulls his pants down groaning as he finally frees his dick from restraint. Using his cum covered finger, he gives his dick a few strokes, spreading the liquid all over and even mixing it in with his precum practically using it as lube.

His bulbous tip teases your entrance, entering and coming out a few times making you whine and shake your butt at him, egging Seungcheol to just put it in.

Seungcheol was initially the one who wanted the release but you can't help but be needy. His dick just fucks you that good.

"Needy baby." Seungcheol scoffs before finally pushing in stretching your cunt in half. His circumference was big enough to leave your cunt gaping if left in long enough.

His hands find itself on your ass, groping and slapping it as he slowly starts to move. You drop your phone, game long forgotten, reaching for the nearest throw pillow to cling on.

Seungcheol pace quickly becomes faster, not having the patience to slowly build it up. With the use of your hair, he forces you up to look back at him while he pistons his dick in you, giving you sharp hard thrusts.

"Open."

You comply, opening your mouth, tongue falling out with your eyes hald lid at him. You moan when he hits that one specific spot that drives you crazy.

Seungcheol gathers an ample amount of his saliva before spitting it in your mouth. He would always see Vernon do it to you amd wanted to see what was up. Seeing your dazed eyes, furrowed eyebrows, and slobbering mouth, he completely gets it now.

He spits in your mouth a few more times, and each time you swallow it. Always taking what they were giving.

A hand creeps down your stomach to rub on your clit making you trash in his hold. The fingers though, were unlike Seungcheol's, it was slender and longer. The kind that would be suited for gaming.

"Fuck. Wonwoo, she's so tight." Seungcheol moans, feeling your cunt clamp down on him as you spasm underneath the two. "Cum- cumming..!" You croak out before finally creaming on Seungcheol's dick.

It didn't take too long for you to feel the heavy spurts of the olders cum, instantly filling you up as if the dick wasn't enough. Wonwoo's hand is still going at a relentless pace at you, ultimately overstimulating the two of you.

Seun6's hand lets go of your head as he grips your waist to push down on his hip, thrusting in deep inside of you truly making you feel every vein on his dick.

Wonwoo finally stops when Seungcheol pulls out, immediately taking position behinds you when the older moves out of the way.

The gamer gapes your pussy open, watching as cum oozes out of you. He places a kiss on your butt cheek before licking his lips and diving in you. His lips explores the area of which his hyungs dick was just in, licking and cleaning the hole. Sucking every drop of juice and cum his tongue could find.

You can feel the cold rim of his glasses touch your butt as he eats you out. Your throat already feels raspy from all the moaning you've done. Upper body weak from having to hold yourself up.

Wonwoo's fingers finds itself on your cunt again, rubbing to make you cum more. You can't help but cry and whimper at this. Your legs haven't stopped shaking from the orgasm you had with Seungcheol, but Wonwoo doesn't care, he loves it. He savors in it.

Usually it was Mingyu who was overstimulating you, but after a few nights shared with you three. Wonwoo finds himself to be enamoured by your sobbing pleasured state.

Tears drip down your face as you choke out sobs and moan, hands tightly gripping the pillow you had reached for as you reach your second fourth orgasm for the day.

You felt a soft kiss on your cheek, followed by a big hand softly rubbing it making you turn your face to the side and look up at Seungcheol.

Your eyes were glassy, you looked pathetic, but still pretty.

With one final kiss on your cunt, Wonwoo pulls away, wiping his lips with the back of his hands before adjusting his specs in place.

"You did so good. Good job baby." Seungcheol coos, scooping you up in his arms to take you to the bathroom, setting you down on the sink surface.

Wonwoo follows and turns on the bathtub, adjusting it to your liking. Whilst Seungcheol grabs a towel to wipe you down, muttering sweet nothings and leaving soft kisses all over your face.

"I thought it was Mingyu who had a thing for overstimulation?"

"If you were given the chance, would you have not done the same?"

#seventeen #seventeen x you #seventeen smut #kpop smut #scoups smut #choi seungcheol smut #seungcheol smut #scoups x reader #choi seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x reader #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo x reader

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celestie0 · 3 days ago

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gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch6. the in-laws

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 6/x

ᰔ words. 12.6k

a/n. hiii my ihm lovelies!! hope you all had a great holiday season. i wanted to get this chapter out as a christmas gift but i failed and then i wanted to get it out as a new years post but failed and then i got food poisoning yesterday and while i was rotting in bed i ended up finishing the chapter LOL. it seems i can only write when i'm under duress? but anywho. hope you enjoy haha and see you at the bottom!

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“Alright, let’s head out,” you hear Gojo say from the bottom of the staircase, followed by the sound of dress shoes on the hardwood floor, and you glance over to see him clad in a navy suit with a white button up shirt that had one singular button undone. He’s messing with the cuffs of his suit jacket as he makes his way over to you. You catch the scent of his cologne, and it’s alarming how familiar it’s become to you.

Days go by shorter lately, mainly because it’s winter, and so the sun has almost fully set by 6pm. The sky outside is a dark hue of purple, seen past the windows of Gojo’s house, and the warm, dim lighting inside makes you feel strangely nostalgic. Like in a way that feels like home.

You tirelessly tousle with your hair at the mirror hanging above the foyer table that was snug up against the wall at the front entrance. Your hair wasn’t cooperating. You attempted to curl it, for the first time in forever given you can’t remember the last time you had enough time to do your hair, so you were out of practice. It was obvious, given the way some strands were curled outwards from your face, some inwards, some straighter than others, some curlier than others, and you were about to have a full blown mental breakdown before you remember your grounding exercises– 1, 2, 3, 4.

You turn to face Gojo, who you saw in the mirror was standing behind you and watching you with amusement, and you breathe in deep. “How do I look?” you ask, petting down the fabric of your dress as you face him. The thought occurs to you–why do you give so much of a fuck how you look right now? It’s just Gojo’s family. It’s not like they’re actually your in-laws. And from what Gojo’s mother had told you, it was just an intimate little get-together with Sana’s family. It’s really not a big deal. Yet the necessity to impress still consumes you.

Gojo threads his hands into the pockets of his pants and tilts his head to assess your appearance, and you watch his gaze trace the frame of you. “Nice,” he says, “you look nice.”

“That’s it? Just nice?”

“Well, I tried to call you hot earlier, but it got me yelled at.”

You roll your eyes and grab your purse off the foyer table, “okay, whatever, I’ll take it.” And then you head towards the front door. You hear the jingle of car keys from behind you as they’re shoved into a pocket.

The outside air is chilly in a way that’s almost sobering. Gojo opens the door for you to get inside his car and the warmth of your peach cobbler in your lap comforts some of the nerves you felt. By the time Gojo clicks his seatbelt into place in the driver seat, you realize you’ve never been in his car before, or driven anywhere by him before.

The interior smells of pine and something more familiar too, with sleek leather seats that are so comfortable they make you feel like you’re floating. You know it’s a Benz, you’re just not sure what year or model, and you’d usually ask most people out of a friendly curiosity, but for some reason your pride always got the best of you when it came to him.

“I seriously can’t wait to eat that thing you made,” Gojo comments after he’s backed out of the driveway, “it looks really nice.”

“Do you have a sweet tooth?” you ask him, glancing over at him, and you try not to stare at the strong one-handed grip he has on the steering wheel as he corrects it.

“Oh yeah,” he answers, “big time.”

“You don’t seem like it,” you mindlessly say, turning your head to glance out into the dim street, passing by houses that idly sit in this neighborhood.

“Why’s that?” he asks.

“You seem to maintain a steady weight,” you politely comment.

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Is that the closest I’ll ever get to a compliment from you?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s just science. Hard to maintain a build if you eat a lot of sugar.”

He turns onto the mainroad, and you keep your gaze plastered to the outside. “I seem to manage.”

“It’s because you're tall. Tall people get to eat whatever they want.”

You see him nod his head once in your periphery, and you take it as some form of dismissal. “Sure.”

It doesn’t take terribly long to get to Gojo’s parents’ house, just a thirty-five minute drive without traffic. He kept surprisingly silent throughout most of it, and the few moments you did glance at his face, you could even say he looked like he was deep in thought. With a creased brow, a grip on the steering wheel that sometimes faltered, sometimes strengthened, but rarely fully eased. It was all so different from his usual impulse to talk. You know that you often wish for Gojo to shut the fuck up sometimes, but the silence seemed unsettling today.

His parents’ house is large, maybe twice the size of the homes in your neighborhood, but it’s tucked away in a slightly remote area, where the next closest house is about a quarter of a mile down the road. The driveway is long and runs downhill, so you stumble a little on the high heel of your shoe when you step down onto the pebbled pavement, but Gojo holds your elbow so you don’t fall onto your face. And also so you don’t drop the peach cobbler he so desperately wants to try. You’re not sure which of the two was the bigger priority for him.

As you two walk up the driveway towards the front entrance, you hear him sigh behind you. “Just so you know, my mom doesn’t really have any sense of boundaries.”

“Ah,” you comment, “nice to know where you get it from.”

He gives you an irritated look, seen in the corner of your eye, and it’s hard to fight the small amused smile that makes its way onto your face.

He sighs again as you two make it to the top of the steps. “Seriously, though. Chances of you wanting to leave me after this dinner are high.”

“Why? You’ve got a hot older brother I don’t know about or something?”

“I am the hot older brother,” he tells you.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, and then face him fully. “You’re not the first guy that’s warned me about his parents, okay? I’ll handle my own. What good is life if your in-laws–er, fake in-laws–aren’t at least a little strange?”

He lifts his finger to the doorbell, and just before pressing it, he says, “alright, then.”

It only takes twelve seconds for the door to swing open, the aroma of fresh herbs and something more sultry like vetiver arouse your senses, along with a warmth beckoning you from the inside of the home.

Gojo’s mother stands at the doorway, surrounded by a halo of warm lighting, and her face instantly morphs into one of delightful glee.

“Oh! My dear, you’ve made it!” she exclaims happily, and just when you think she’s about to pull Gojo in for a hug, she pulls you in for one first instead, which startles you. “How lovely!”

“Oh—” you stutter, stumbling slightly as your nose becomes buried in the fluff of her silk pressed hair, but the delicate fragrance of lilac is somehow comforting.

She pulls you away to hold you by your shoulders. “You poor thing, you’re shivering! Come inside.” She hastily ushers you inside and you can feel the heat from Gojo’s body as he follows closely on your tail.

When his mother closes the door behind you, you find yourself surrounded by the kind of warmth only a house could provide.

You take a small look around the foyer, noticing that it’s large with tones of deep wood and a bright white and golden chandelier that hangs daintily above in the cavity of the high ceilings. Leather, wood, velvet, silk, these are the textures that you see as you look around. It’s an old-fashioned taste, with a polished grand piano off to the right in the hall and display cases of vintage dolls and porcelain plates. So very different from modern, but it’s comforting. Like a wave of nostalgia, but from something you’ve never experienced before.

“What’s this?” Mrs. Gojo asks with curiosity lilting her voice as she walks up to you and points at the casserole dish you were holding.

“Oh, it’s peach cobbler,” you say, holding it up slightly with a small smile adorning your face, “for dessert.”

“How sweet! You’re an angel,” she coos, then twists her torso towards the kitchen, “honey! Come here, will you?”

Shuffling down the hallway from the heart of the house is, who you presume to be, Mr. Gojo. He’s tall, with his shoulders slightly curved forward as he approaches you all, and you note that he looks more aged than his missus.

“Ah, this must be my new daughter-in-law,” he says, his voice gruff and crackly from years of use. You smell the faintest hint of smoke from his clothing.

You glance at Gojo, who is watching you interact with his parents, an unreadable expression on his face as his hands remain shoved into the pocket of his suit pants.

Mr. Gojo takes the peach cobbler from you and gives you a curt smile before taking it back towards the kitchen.

“Darling, I must say, you have a lovely figure—” Gojo’s mother begins to say, reaching her hand out to hover it over the curve of your waist, but just at that moment, Gojo comes up to stand in between the two of you.

“Alright, what time’s dinner?” he asks.

Mrs. Gojo glances up at him, her face immediately twisting into a frown. “Nevermind that. I want to take y/n with me back to the kitchen to help braise the chicken,” she says, grabbing a hold of your wrist and tugging you towards her.

“Oh—” you stumble slightly.

“Nope,” you hear Gojo say from beside you, and suddenly there’s a strong arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you back to his side, “she stays with me for the night.” You’d remember to blush at the feeling of being pressed flush up against him, but the shock overshadowed.

“Satoru!” Mrs. Gojo exclaims, rather loudly, and she lets out a hmph noise before placing her hands on her hips. “You’re no fun!”

“I’m not gonna let you indoctrinate her into whatever multi-level marketing scheme you’ve fallen victim to this month,” he says, his hold on your waist tightening.

“How petulant!” she says, trying to manage a stern look but Gojo doesn’t seem fazed by it, “quit acting like I’m going to corrupt her! I’m not some witch.”

“Your track record would prove otherwise,” he comments.

“Oh please, the only other time was when you brought—”

She suddenly stops speaking, her eyes going wide, and she glances at you. You cluelessly tilt your head at her.

Ah. The other woman. This mysterious ex-wife. Would you be the other woman in this case? Seeing as to how his entire family seems to walk on eggshells about the subject around you. And they all seem to think that any mention of her would devastate you, when really, you and Gojo aren’t even actually lovers.

But there’s a small part of you,

A teeny tiny part,

Revealed from the way your heart sank at the realization of who his mother was referring to,

That actually does feel some type of way about it.

You want to know who this woman was to him. Does he still think of her? Does he still love her? What happened between them? Was she the one that got away? And how does he feel about the fact that he’s now here with you?

You shake your head vigorously to get those thoughts out of your head.

It was like method acting. You stepped into the role of wife this evening, and now you feel the way that they expect you to feel at the mention of your husband’s ex-lover.

That must be the reason, right?

You slowly push yourself out of Gojo’s hold, and you try not to become hyper aware of his eyes on you as you smooth out the fabric of your dress, then you glance at his mother.

“I’d love to help you braise the chicken,” you say.

There’s a brief silence as you find your voice in this house, and then Mrs. Gojo flashes you a grin.

“Come with me, honey,” she says before wrapping a delicate hand around your wrist and pulling you towards the heart of the house.

There are pictures hung up on the walls as you brush past every hallway, along with peeling wallpaper that is peppered with florals and striped prints, sanded off from years of shoulders brushing against their surfaces in a way that creates an old, dated charm. You learn quickly that Gojo has always been pretty tall, judging from the photo of him standing with, whom you assume are his middle school friends, out on a boat, holding a bass the size of a small child.

There’s photos of the four of them together, like one professionally taken photo where Gojo and Sana are knelt in front of their parents, and your gaze fixates on the strong grip Mr. Gojo has on his son’s shoulder, digging deep in the bone, creasing the fabric, almost desperately. Gojo looks young in the photo, maybe a recent high school graduate, and his smile is bright but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

And, God, the trophies. The trophies that adorned the surfaces of aged cedar wood dressers, seemingly random in the order they are sprawled across the display yet you know there was intention behind it too. Ballet, soccer, tennis, spelling bee, FRC, even dragon boat racing.

“Feel free to take any of those home,” Mrs. Gojo says with a teasing tone, “you eventually get tired of staring at them.”

You wouldn’t know. Your mother never had much extra cash hanging around to take you to tennis lessons, or ballet lessons, or SAT prep, or whatever. You were lucky enough that you got into college with the cards you were dealt, but you sometimes wonder what your potential could’ve been if you had parents like Gojo did. Maybe the house you live in would be your own, and not something that your mother has spent the past forty years of her life trying to pay off. Maybe you’d have a freshly renovated kitchen and a pretty boat out on the street. But throwing a pity party for yourself right now wasn’t exactly going to get you through the evening.

Mrs. Gojo finally leads you into the kitchen, and the aroma of fresh herbs overwhelms your senses.

“Smells wonderful,” you comment.

“I know,” she cheekily comments, “will you turn the meat please?”

You grab a pair of tongs and attempt to sear the cuts that were sizzling on the stove.

“Sooooo,” she coos, wasting no time to playfully bump her hip to yours, “how is married life?”

“Nice,” you respond, your cheeks warming slightly, “it’s nice.”

“It won’t always be that way, you know,” she muses with some underlying sense of sincerity that isn’t lost on you.

When you remain quiet, concentrating on the searing sizzling noises coming from the pan, she decides to keep speaking.

“Eventually, you two will settle in a little too much…start to care less about your bodies…and then, oh gosh, when kids come into the picture, forget about having any time for yourselves,” she continues, “some days you’ll resent him, others you’ll feel like it’s the first time all over again.” She sighs. “Marriage is a funny thing—”

“Mrs. Gojo,” you interrupt her, turning to face her, “I—…I really appreciate you, I do, but, um, I’ve already learned a lot already about marriage from my own parents. Things are fine between Satoru and me.” You look into her widened eyes. “And…if something does happen down the line, and we choose not to be together anymore, then that’s okay too.”

After all, you had to prepare her.

“But that’s the thing!” she chirps, “your generation is too—…too impatient. Unwilling to work anything out! A marriage is supposed to be hard, but also it’s something you aren’t supposed to give up on so easily.”

It’s your turn to meet her with widened eyes in response to her preaching, and her posture immediately deflates before she holds you gently by your arm.

“I’m sorry, honey…I know it’s too early to be saying all these things to you,” she says, managing a small smile, “I always forget that I’m too old to be doting on my children like this anymore.”

Your expression softens and you wrap your palm over her bony knuckles, feeling the thinness of the skin that stretches over them. In a brief glimpse, you see your own mother in Mrs. Gojo’s eyes, something familiar, a universal expression of the love a parent has for their child.

“Well…” you say after clearing your throat, “for what it’s worth, you have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Gojo.” You try to manage a small smile. “I’m—…I’m really happy with your son.”

It was hard to lie to someone like this, especially from the way there’s relief that floods her irises, a genuine feeling that is so hard to come by in these days of false niceties. You often wonder how far a single white lie can stretch before it shatters against its own resistance.

“That’s a relief,” she says, managing her own prim smile, “I’m so glad.”

The two of you finish up in the kitchen, and when you circle around back into the hall, you see Sana standing in the warmly lit family room with Gojo and their dad.

Sana catches your eye, and you purse your lips together hesitantly before walking up to her.

“Hey,” you say softly and she returns the small smile you give her.

“Hi,” she says back to you.

“Um, where’s Juno?” you ask, looking around.

“Oh, she has a sleepover at her friend’s house tonight,” Sana says, “Jun’s dropping her off, and then he’ll come by here later.”

“Ah, I see,” you comment, itching at your elbow from the awkwardness.

“Well,” Mr. Gojo says, gesturing towards the dining room, “let’s eat, shall we?”

The three of you nod at him.

It’s fascinating to watch how the family falls naturally into their chairs, an assigned seating pattern that stays consistent among all dining halls and rooms and tables in the world, one that every family has. Mr. Gojo sits at the head of the table, his wife to his left, his son to his right. Sana sits quaintly to her mother’s left, and you sit across from her to Gojo’s left. The one empty seat is left for the presence of Jun.

“Food looks wonderful, darling,” Mr. Gojo says before leaning over to place a kiss on her bashful cheek.

Your heart does something weird at the sight. A simultaneous twinge paired with a warmer feeling that follows. You hardly witnessed any affection within your household growing up, not between your parents at least, probably because you were young when they got divorced and so the turmoils and tribulations started long before you had any higher order of cognitive discernment beyond the childish interest in Disney princesses and The Backyardigans. For you, the only memories that last of your parents’ marriage are those that feel like nothing more than the frigidity of a business arrangement. Ironically similar to the one you were currently in with Gojo. Except at least yours hadn’t been initially built on a foundation of love and a promise to be there for one another until death did you two apart.

Death was knocking on your mother’s doorstep now. But your father was nowhere to be found. So much for a vow.

Mr. Gojo pours his son a glass of whiskey, single malt as read on the label. Mrs. Gojo pours you and Sana a glass of red wine, and you try to hide the grimace, because you would’ve much rather had the whiskey.

“To y/n,” Mr. Gojo says, raising his glass up into the air, “for being our newest addition to the family.”

You all clink your glasses together, then in a variety of pairings, the last one being the tap of Gojo’s glass against yours, before you all take a drink.

“So…” Mrs. Gojo speaks up, “exactly how long have the two of you been married?”

You glance at Gojo for help, which isn’t exactly an unsuspecting thing to do.

“Four weeks,” he says.

You watch Mrs. Gojo’s eyes twitch. You can understand. Her own son gets married and doesn’t tell her anything about it for four weeks after the wedding. Well, in your case, a courthouse arrangement.

“Where did you two go for your honeymoon?” she asks, and Mr. Gojo clears his throat.

You look at Gojo for help again, and mentally pinch yourself for not being more discreet about how fake this whole thing is.

But Gojo surprisingly looks at ease. “Greece,” he says, and leaves it at that.

Mrs. Gojo’s body language turns to you, clearly irritated by her son’s short and curt answers. “Did you have a fun time, dear?”

“Oh! Yes, it was a very fun time. Definitely did all the newly wed stuff. Just as normal newlyweds do, you know. Because we are newlyweds,” you say through an awkward cough.

“Like…?” Mrs. Gojo pushes, and you can tell that she’s asking out of a genuine curiosity over the itinerary you two had allegedly carried out, but you crack under the pressure.

“W—…We made love,” you say, “we made lots and lots of love.”

The sound of silverware clanking onto ceramic plates startles you out of the blissful ignorance you had to the words that you had just said. Like you were so caught up in your mind about wanting to seem like an actual real life couple to his parents that you almost forgot about the number one social rule when meeting your (fake) significant other’s parents: no references to copulation.

You glance up to find Mrs. Gojo’s eyes are wide, a slight tinge of pink to her cheeks. The width of Mr. Gojo’s eyes match his wife’s except his expression is also duly accompanied by a furrowed, perplexed brow. Sana looks visibly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and trying hard to put on a poker face as she pretends like she didn’t just hear what you said.

You finally glance at Gojo, who’s looking at you with the most what the fuck? face you’ve ever seen someone make, and there’s concern on there somewhere too, like he’s not even fully convinced that you’re mentally sane at the moment because why on God’s green Earth would you say something like that at a family dinner table.

Trying your best to laugh it off, you say, “ah…ahaha, d-did I say make love? I meant–I meant that we–”

“Just–” Gojo interrupts you. “Just stop.”

Everyone are still stunned silent and the flush to your cheeks grows warmer. While clearing your throat, you set your lap napkin up on the table and clumsily scootch yourself out of your chair.

“Ex…cuse…me...” you mumble under your breath, knocking the table with your knee on accident, your wine glass almost toppling all over the pretty linen tablecloth but your reflexes catch the stem to steady it. “I need to…use the restroom.” And then you head straight down the hallway without sparing them another glance.

“Use the upstairs one!” Mrs. Gojo calls out to you, “the guest bathroom is under renovation.”

“Of fucking course it is,” you mutter under your breath, but flash them a polite smile before rounding the staircase pillar and then briskly walking up the stairs.

You quickly realize there’s more personality to the house upstairs, with some clutter in the theater loft and mismatching decorations that don’t reveal the careful deliberation of an indoor designer. The master bedroom is directly to the right of the top of the staircase and you glance across the loft at a narrow hallway that leads into the three bedrooms tucked away into the heart of the house.

One foot after the other, you float in that direction as if some force were compelling you towards it. Some trance of curiosity that no human being could ever resist. It’s fine. You didn’t actually need to piss anyways.

The first bedroom you walk past is rather boring, with beige tones all around. Beige bed sheets, beige wall paint, beige lamp shade, beige curtains. But the air smells crisp, and you notice there’s a shelf that has about half a dozen plants lined up in a variety of artistic pots. Similar to the set-up Gojo has in his house at home. You walk inside and brush your fingers across the dresser surface, rubbing fine dust over the pads of your fingers, and with your next inhale, you sneeze.

A guest bedroom, you think to yourself.

The next bedroom you walk past is sweeter, kinder, warmer. There’s pink hues scattered across, the most obvious one being the pillow covers, and there are some shades of a baby blue as well. But the furniture looks modern, sleek, and new. There were two identities at war in the room, like that of a little girl and a grown woman. Neither able to find its voice among the chaos of friendship bracelets sprawled across the desk and the Louis Vuitton purse resting at the foot of the bed.

Sana’s room, you think to yourself.

Childhood bedrooms are like time capsules if left untouched for very long. You’ve lived in your room at home for as long as you can remember, only recently having shifted to the master bedroom. The room grew up with you. It had no chance to become some entity of its own.

The next bedroom you walk by feels familiar, even before you walk inside. There’s a comforting feeling that envelopes just from the lighting alone. You push the door open with a gentle palm.

The culprit of any young man’s room–navy blue sheets. Stretched taut against a made-up bed that has some sort of feminine flair to it, like it wasn’t set by Gojo, but rather his mother passing by his room one day to sit in his absence, only to needlessly mess with the sheets because it gave her a sense of purpose. You go eighteen years pouring blood, sweat, and tears into raising a child, protecting them, nurturing them, being the one they lean on for all of life’s woes, only for them to pack up and leave one day. You suppose that if you were a parent, you would find melancholy in that loss of responsibility too.

His desk is a large expanse of cedar wood with a desktop monitor and some bookshelf speakers set up on it. The PC itself has collected dust over the years but there’s a small mechanical whirring noise you hear somewhere within. The rest of the desk is mostly empty except for some unopened mail tucked away with some books, the spines creased at the last few hundred pages, but never to the end.

You pick one of the books up, flipping the pages open, and see sticky notes on some of them. Like English literature notes one would take in class, with studious words that over exaggerate the significance of the prose just to make a teacher happy. Who cares if the curtains were blue? Maybe the author just wanted them to be blue. Why does everything in life have to have meaning?

Setting the book back down with a sigh, you walk over to the bookshelf. There are some more trophies, some sets of comic books, some strange robotic-looking figurines. Small picture frames of foreign scenery are set up in different corners wherever there is empty space, like an afterthought.

“Hmm…” you hum to yourself, tilting your head to the side to read the vertical spine of a thick black book that was tucked flush up against the shelf's side.

West Valley High School. Class of 2007.

With your index finger hooking the spine, you slowly pull the book out from its comfy corner. It’s heavy in your hands and you notice that there are ink smudges across the tips of your fingers.

When you open the cover, you’re met with a page filled with a variety of colors and handwriting, and you realize they’re signatures. And to no one’s surprise, most of them are feminine. With hearts, some merely outlines, some shaded in with ink, scattered across the page. Bubbly handwriting, neat handwriting, cursive handwriting, a lot of it in pinks and purples and reds. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was like those Valentine’s Day cards all the girls would sign in grade school to pass onto their crush, except imagine if all of them were intended for just one guy.

You roll your eyes as you flip the pages, seeing no end in sight to the signed ink. I mean, come on, how many signature pages does a yearbook even need? This was excessive. And, no, you aren’t bitter simply because your high school yearbook has maybe a max of fifteen signatures (four of which were from your teachers). It’s just frustrating. And confusing. Why does everyone on this planet adore Gojo except you? Is there something wrong with you? Are you the problem?

There are some signatures from boys too, most likely his friends. Otherwise, you’re not sure what random fleeting classmate you’ve only spoken to a couple times would be brazen enough to draw pictures of penises squirting in whatever empty space they could find in your yearbook, if not for his high school friends. These boys are probably in their mid thirties now, just as Gojo is, maybe with wives and kids they’re now responsible for. You wonder if they’d still find the drawings funny all the same today.

You flip the pages more, taking in image after image after image of smiling portraits. ABC…DE…F…ah, G. Hmm, there. There it was.

Gojo Satoru.

Seems like his high school didn’t allow yearbook quotes, but you try to imagine what his would be. Probably something corny and lame, like See kids? I told you I was sexy in high school.

He looks cute though. With his hair fluffy, boyishly ruffled to pair with a charming smile that’s at ease. He just looks a little younger, that’s all. Not that much different. Perhaps a bit more scrawny, a bit more mischievous-looking. As opposed to his adult self, who appears sturdy. More serious. But you realize that cheeky part of him that comes out every now and then when he’s teasing you or pissing you off is that boy within him that looks exactly like the portrait in this yearbook that you trace with the pad of your finger.

You close the book, suddenly a little out of breath, and then slip it back into place. Your eyes catch the shimmer of the trophy at the top of the shelf. It was shaped like a baseball glove mitt, and in the palm cup, there is an actual baseball in there with a black ink signature. You gently pick it up and turn it in your palm to try and read the ink.

Ichiro.

Your dad used to watch baseball. You’re familiar. Seattle Mariners, Ichiro Suzuki. The first Japanese player to ever make it to the Major Leagues. Ten time all-star, and tenth member of the Mariners hall of fame. He retired when you were just a little girl, but you still remember the look of awe in your father’s eyes as he stared at the box TV in the living room of your house when Ichiro took his last stand at the plate.

Gojo was also a boy at that time. Living in this house. Maybe his old man was watching that game at the same time. And maybe Gojo was watching the look on his father’s face, too. It’s the romance of life–you look up at the moon in the sky, and you know that there is someone else out there, someone that you’ll meet some day, maybe even someone that will mean the world to you someday, who’s looking at it too. But you just don’t know it yet.

Lost in endless, rather fruitless thought, you continue to turn the baseball in your hand to pointlessly assess the seams, but it slips out of your hand and onto the carpeted floor with a loud hollow thud that startles you, and when you attempt to bend down and pick it up, you accidentally push it with your toe and it rolls underneath the bed.

“Shit,” you mumble, getting down onto your hands and knees to look underneath the bed.

You see the ball rolled a few feet away, and when you reach for it, it becomes clear that you don’t have the arm span to grab it. You struggle and you struggle, the tips of your fingers barely tickling its seam, and the frustration makes you sweat a little.

“Come…here…you…stupid…thing,” you mutter. You’re sure your hair is a static mess now, too.

You finally manage to roll it towards you a couple inches and then your palm wraps around it before pulling it to your shoulder, but not without something collateral that’s dragged along with it.

A photograph. Printed out, vintage. You pinch the corner between your two fingers and stand back up onto your two feet in order to better assess the image under the light of the floor lamp.

The first person you notice in the photo is Gojo. He looks younger than in the yearbook, but he’s wearing a suit and a tie. It’s a little big on him, ill-fitting as most teenage boys should look in a suit, like a rite of passage. His smile is less warm than the one in the yearbook too, more prim and stretched into a thin line that’s only slightly curved upwards. It’s only then when you notice the slender fingers sprawled across his chest near the collar of his undershirt, black nail polish blending in with the fabric of the suit. Your eyes trail the dainty hand, and your heart skips a beat when you see a girl standing next to him, pressed up against him, her smile much brighter than his. Pink braces line her teeth and her hair is that classic mid-2000s side-swept bang mess, but she’s pretty. Dressed in a pink-ish purple gown that almost looks like a bridesmaids dress, and you finally see the banner stretched across behind the both of them in the picture that reads Homecoming 2005.

It’s hard to explain it, but you can just feel it somehow. That this person is important to him. Not just some last-minute date to Homecoming, or an old high school girlfriend he’s long since lost touch with. It seems larger than that, somehow. Unlike penises drawn on yearbook paper, this feels like something a person never outgrows.

Of course, people have lived fully-fledged lives before you’ve met them. Just as you have as well. But you’re overtaken by the insane curiosity to want to learn every single detail about this past life that Gojo has lived. Where did he and his friends hang out after school? When did he learn how to drive? When was the first time he got shit-faced drunk? When was the first time he snuck out of the house? And who was this girl in the picture?

“Find what you’re lookin’ for yet?” a voice calls out, entirely startling you to where you almost jolt out of your skin, and you swiftly turn on your heel towards the entrance of the room.

You see Gojo standing in the door frame, leaning against it with his arms crossed as he levels his gaze at you. He has a blank expression on his face, although you would say it’s more serious than playful.

“What–...I–” you stutter, shuffling the picture you were holding behind your back so he doesn’t see.

His eyes don’t flit to the movement. “You don’t have to tear the room apart to find my illicit drugs. You could’ve just asked.”

You roll your eyes. “As if you would do drugs.”

“You say that like it’s an insult.”

“It is.”

“So, then, if you’re not looking for drugs, what are you looking for?”

Your cheeks are warm. “I don’t know. Petty cash? Human body parts? Playboy?”

He snorts. “Playboy? Who still has a subscription to Playboy?”

“Maybe your teenage self did.”

“I’m not that old,” he says, “I was watching porn like the rest of my peers.”

“Ew, you freak,” you say, and you grab one of his pillows and throw it at him.

He lets out a laugh before catching the pillow with ease, and then walks up to you, placing the pillow on top of your head. You half-glare, half-pout at him.

“C’mon,” he probes, “tell me why you’re hiding away up here.”

“I embarrassed myself,” you confide in him with a sulk of your shoulders. “I mean. Seriously. What the fuck was that? What a humiliating thing to say in front of your parents. I just feel so weird pretending like this.”

His expression softens. “Sorry,” he says, “for dragging you into this dinner.”

“No,” you sigh, “I’m the one that did. I forgot you can’t necessarily fake a marriage without…doing the typical couple things.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” he hums as his gaze flits towards the bed, “doing the typical couple things, you say?”

You roll your eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Oh, in my dreams alright,” he says with a grin.

“And if I strangled you? What then?”

“I like that. It’s kinky.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you don’t have magazines lying around?”

“Brown box underneath the bed. You didn’t look hard enough.”

You give him a disgusted look. He laughs.

“I’m joking,” he says, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not convinced,” you say, turning your body away from him slightly to keep the photo hidden behind your back.

He tilts his head at you, gaze flickering down to your other hand. Your heart skips a beat. “I could’ve guessed that.”

His hand reaches out and you flinch ever so slightly, something he thankfully doesn’t notice, and then he’s grabbing the baseball out of your palm.

“I always thought I could sell this thing for major money,” he muses, throwing the ball up into the air to catch it. And then doing so again a couple times.

“It’s authentic?” you ask with genuine curiosity.

“Oh yeah. I caught it. First ball game my old man ever took me to, and it happened to be Ichiro’s last.”

Your eyes widen. Gojo was at that game. He wasn’t just watching it from home on some TV like you did with your dad. He was living in it.

“Wow,” you say, “must’ve been quite the game.”

“Don’t really remember too much about it to be honest, other than how stoked I was to just be there with my dad.”

“Mm,” you hum, “I’ll have to ask Mr. Gojo more about it when we get downstairs.”

His expression falters slightly, his smile dropping in the most subtle way that you wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t been intently staring at his face.

“Yeah,” he says, “maybe.”

Gojo continues to stare at the ball in his palm as he rotates it in inspection. There’s an awkward silence that settles between the two of you, and you feel the burden of conversation has suddenly fallen on you.

“My, um. My dad was a fan too,” you say.

His eyes glance up to meet yours. “How come I’ve never met him?”

The question catches you off guard. “Wh–...I’m sorry, what?”

“Your dad,” he says, as if it was something so casual.

“That–...well, he’s–...I don’t know, I haven’t seen him in years,” you admit, “not since…not since my mother was diagnosed with cancer.”

He stares at you earnestly, studying your expression, before he decides on saying nothing else except, “I’m sorry about that.”

You sigh. “Satoru, I–” you start, keen on the way his body stiffens slightly when you say his name, “I really don’t have the capacity for much else tonight. I mean, the questions. And the lies. And walking on eggshells around your mom.”

“Well. I was sent up here to get you,” he says, “and I can’t exactly go downstairs empty handed.”

“Fine. Let’s just get this dinner over with as fast as possible.”

“Sure,” he easily agrees, “I’m with you on that one.”

You take a step forward to head towards the door, but then suck in a sharp gasp when you remember what was being held behind your back.

“Wait,” you say, “look away.”

“...huh?” he huffs, a puzzled look on his face.

“Just look away for a second.”

His eyebrows furrow before he lifts one in a questioning manner. But he acquiesces and turns on his heel to face away from you. “Have I ever told you how strange you are?”

“No,” you say while discretely crouching down, playing along in an attempt to distract him, “you haven’t.” You flinch a little from the sound of your hip popping, but he doesn’t seem to notice and so you bend your wrist in preparation of flinging the photo back to the abyss underneath his bed.

But you stop.

And you take one more glance at the photo.

And your stomach flips the same way it did the first time you saw it.

If you asked, would he tell you?

But the more pressing question is,

Why are you so scared to find out?

You shake your head vigorously to get rid of all your pestering intrusive thoughts. It was the stress, you played it off. A hyperactive mind leads to hyperactive ruminations. And besides, it’s just silly. Sure, there’s your gut feeling that suggests otherwise. But this girl in the photo could really just be an old friend or girlfriend that had no significant impact on the trajectory of his life. Why be the crazy one and lose sleep over this? You’ve lost sleep over plenty of other things in your life, but not stuff like this. It’s just not like you.

You fling the photo across underneath the bed and then stand up just in time for when Gojo turns around to look at you out of curiosity.

“Alright,” you say, dusting your hands off, “let’s go.”

You walk over to where he stands by the doorframe, a slight warmth to your cheeks when he doesn’t move out of your way like he usually does, but instead he leans towards you slightly as you brush past him, and your heart jumps a beat in your chest when you feel his hand gently fall to the small of your back, softly urging you forward ahead of him. A feather of a touch, yet intentional, almost naturally so, like a curious test of the boundary between you two that he’s been dying to understand a bit better. And the fact you don’t turn on your heel to face him with that same undeserved and petty rage that you always do, and instead slightly shudder at the feel of his touch, means that somewhere along the way, you’ve moved the line a little closer.

He’s hot on your trail as you walk down the stairs slowly and when you turn around the post at the bottom then make your way back to the dining room, you see his family staring at you with wide eyes.

His mother stands up. “y/n! Come sit back down, dear.”

You nod meekly, and Gojo pulls your chair out for you to take a seat before he resumes his seat next to you.

The food is slightly cold by the time you finally get to pick at it. It’s not very seasoned, either. Not enough salt for your taste. But somehow Mrs. Gojo having a phobia of sodium is a study of character that makes perfect sense in your head.

Eventually, the awkward silence is too much for you to bear, and you set your fork and knife down on your napkin with a slight bit more force than you probably should’ve.

Everyone looks at you.

You sigh. “I’m sorry for earlier,” you say, “I’m…uh, I’m just not really used to these sorts of dinners…I don’t have much family here in this town, and it’s always just sort of been my mom and me. And I—…I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

Wide eyes blink at you. Mr. Gojo shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat while Mrs. Gojo blinks her long lashes at you. Sana tilts her head, and you have no interest in seeing what Gojo’s expression looks like. You fear it’s the one you’d remember the most.

You were just being honest with how you felt. And it doesn’t take you long to realize something you probably should’ve realized earlier walking into a home like this where everything was perfect and on display with no evidence of the way a true family can crumble on the inside—a house like this does not value honesty. Your mother couldn’t afford you many luxuries in life, but you never felt like you couldn’t be honest in front of her.

You glimpse up at Sana, and there is some knowing expression on her face. It’s almost sympathetic. As if you two were on the same page about something right now. When you glance at Gojo, you see him staring down at his plate with his brow slightly furrowed.

“It…it’s quite alright, dear,” his mother says through a prim voice, and in an attempt to change the subject, she says, “I do hope you are enjoying the chicken.”

“Ah,” you exhale, “yes. I am.”

“So!” Mrs. Gojo chimes in again as she dabs her mouth to a linen napkin. “Tell me about what you do for fun.”

You blink at her. “Oh, umm…binge watch TV? Occasionally I’ll go for a walk.”

“Ahh interesting! What about reading? Do you enjoy reading?”

“Well, the last book I purchased was a picture book about North Korean missiles…so.”

She lets out a laugh. “And where do you see yourself in five years?”

You hear Gojo sigh beside you before he reluctantly sets down his silverware and then he turns to Mrs. Gojo. “Mom. C’mon. This isn’t a job interview. Just let her eat.”

There’s a slight tinge of pink to the tips of her ears from the interrogation interruption as she glances between the two of you. She looks over at Sana for help but finds nothing other than a gaze tipped down towards a plate full of picked-at food. Mr. Gojo folds a hand over her frail knuckles as if to silently communicate, but Mrs. Gojo retreats her hands to fold in her lap underneath the table.

Feeling somewhat bad for the two of them, you turn the face Gojo’s dad. “Um…Mr. Gojo, Satoru was telling me about how you were a big baseball fan and a big Ichiro fan…do you still keep up with the Mariners?”

The man’s eyes grow wide with a visible confusion and you swear you hear Gojo clear his throat beside you.

“Ah…that’s–” he starts before the sound of the doorbell ringing startles you.

Sana immediately stands up without a word of excusal or a glance in anyone’s direction and she heads straight for the door.

You all look around at one another before Mrs. Gojo says, “must be Jun.”

You were at least glad to find you would not be the only “in-law” at the table full of a tension-laced family dinner, especially given the fact that in most of the cases where you’ve met Jun, his penchant to talk overshadows any other energy.

“What’s up, y/n!” Jun shouts when he waltzes into the dining hall, a few steps ahead of Sana. He throws his jacket over the first surface he finds, body language matching that of someone twenty years younger than he actually is. You can’t tell if it’s overcompensation for something, or if he just genuinely believes he’s still in his twenties.

To your surprise, he opens his arms out for you to greet him with a hug, and you hesitate before standing up slightly to give him a well-meaning wrap of your arms around him, but it lacks any warmth of familiarity.

“Welcome to the fam!” he jovially exclaims before patting your arm. He then hugs Mr. Gojo, then Mrs. Gojo (paired with those cheek kisses that the French do in greeting), then daps up Gojo (to which you notice Gojo is less than enthusiastic about) before he finally kisses Sana on the cheek and then takes his seat at the other end of the table. Your eyes are keen on Sana now, watching her intently, but she remains staring at the food on her plate. You had a feeling there was someone in this room that didn’t want to be at this dinner even more than you did.

“How was traffic, Jun?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“Oh it was nothing. Took a shortcut. Backroute off of Lake City Way. Full of pot holes though.”

Sana turns to him and scowls. “While you were taking Juno to her sleepover?!”

He lifts an eyebrow at her. “Yeah? We were running late.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to take that route to get into the city! Those pot holes are so dangerous.”

“Honey. Chill. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Just last week I saw news of three plot holes on the Mercer Street intersection opened up. Three people were injured, including a young boy.”

“Okay well if I also believed everything I saw on the news was going to personally happen to me too then we’d have never gotten this far in life.”

“Jun,” Sana deadpans.

“W-Why don’t I fix you a plate, Jun? You must be tired.” Mrs. Gojo chimes in.

Sana breathes in deep and exhales slowly before slumping down into her chair.

“Thanks,” Jun says, easing his brow as he sits back in his chair nonchalantly, before he turns to Gojo and starts to talk about mundane things like the stock market, the recent election, something about a new bowling record, and this one Thai restaurant he really wants to try on the other end of town, all within the span of time it takes Mrs. Gojo to set a plate down in front of him.

Mr. Gojo jumps in on conversation from time to time. Mrs. Gojo listens idly, sometimes placing a laugh where she feels appropriate. Jun gets particularly animated about this incident he ran into earlier last week when he was dropping Juno off at school, a story that you notice everyone at the table is for some reason entirely intrigued by, but you suppose it’s the most interesting topic of conversation you’ve all had tonight thus far. At certain critical points of the story, Sana jumps in with a that’s not what happened, Jun and you find yourself finally settling in somewhat to the evening.

Just as Jun’s story is ending, you glance up to Mrs. Gojo and find that she’s staring at you with a smile on her face. It makes you jump in your seat a little, luckily unnoticed by the rest of the table because of Jun’s engaging theatrical hand gestures as he attempts to keep his wife, his brother-in-law and his father-in-law engaged. You would’ve expected Mrs. Gojo to avert her gaze the second yours locked with hers, but she doesn’t. She just continues to look at you with a soft smile on her face and a slight tilt to her head, like she’s getting used to the sight of seeing you at this table.

Her gaze flits downwards slightly and you follow her line of gaze, tracing it to the ring that was adorning your left hand.

Your eyes widen slightly.

“Oh–” you stutter, the words already getting caught in your throat, “I–...I forgot to say, it’s an honor to wear your ring, Mrs. Gojo.” The table suddenly goes quiet, and you can’t tell if it’s because of you, or if it’s because there was no more story left to tell. “It’s beautiful.”

It truly felt like for every two steps you took forward, it was ten steps backwards. Because you watch the way that soft smile of hers entirely drops, her expression replaced with one of confusion, brows knitted together as she looks at you like you’ve just spoken in a language no one on Earth can speak.

She glances at Gojo, and you don’t have to look at him to tell that he’s stiff in his seat. You could’ve felt the tension from a mile away.

Mrs. Gojo looks at you again. “Oh honey, that–” She glances between you and Gojo. “That’s not my ring…”

Your eyes widen, cheeks already flush from whatever’s to come.

But suddenly, and to your surprise, Sana speaks up. “It was our mother’s ring.”

You look at her with confusion. And then you glance at Gojo. And then you glance back at Sana. And then at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo.

“But…” you trail off.

“Sumiko and Daichi are our aunt and uncle,” Sana says with a strained voice, “our real parents died in a house fire when we were younger.”

You blink at her in shock.

“He didn’t tell you?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“I–” You glance at Gojo and see that he’s poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he stares down at the glass of scotch he was twirling around in his hand.

“Of course he didn’t,” Sana interrupts, the bitterness in her voice matching the attitude she’s since displayed this entire evening. Her gaze is locked onto her brother’s face, and when his gaze flickers up to meet her eye contact, his expression is set with a tense jaw. “He never wants to mention them. He never wants to acknowledge their life. He never wants to honor them. He just wants to pretend like they never existed.”

“Sana,” he cuts her off, and a chill gets sent down your spine from the seriousness and rigidity in his voice. “Now’s not the time for this.”

“When is the fucking time?!” she spats at him, the simmering tension brewing over. Ah. Yes. The moment you had been expecting. After all, what family does not have its baggage? Sana abruptly stands up from the table, startling everyone with the clanking of silverware and ceramic from the motion. “When is the fucking time for you to admit that you never gave a shit about mom and dad dying? When is the fucking time for you to admit that we moved on to live with these people so fast? When is the fucking time for you to admit how wrong it was for you to force me to call the people here my mom and dad my whole life when they aren’t?” Her voice cracks near the end.

You glance at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo, who both look shocked, hurt, even embarrassed as they gaze down at their food. Your heart stalls in your chest for them.

When you glance back at Gojo, you see that his gaze is hardened even further now. “You’re being rude,” he says, in as steady of a voice as he can manage from the way his brow is creased with disappointment.

“Yeah, whatever,” Sana says as she wipes at the tears with her sleeves, and you notice that she looks young like this. Younger than the usual prim and proper self that she portrays. Too young to be a mom, too young to be a wife, too young to be an adult. Like someone propelled into a life that she never wanted. “That’s always what you say, isn’t it? No answers, you just claim that I’m being childish and rude.” Jun tries to reach out to hold her hand but she snatches it away from him. Under her breath she says, “I didn’t want to come here. I should’ve just stayed home.” And with a rough swipe of her sleeve across both of her cheeks, she suddenly storms off somewhere deep into the house. Jun immediately stands up to follow her, leaving the four of you here with stale, cold food.

The timer in the oven goes off, the sound heard in the distance like a lifeline, and Mrs. Gojo immediately stands up. “Ah, must be…the roasted potatoes. I’ll be right back,” she fusses, and you avert your gaze from her face so she doesn’t feel embarrassed over the streak of a tear you saw streaming down her face.

“Let me help you,” Mr. Gojo says in a small sheepish mumble before following his wife into the kitchen.

And then there were two.

You only have a moment to process the dramatic outburst and subsequent fall-through before you turn in your chair to face Gojo, your face narrowing in contempt. You see him running a hand through his hair, entirely ruffling out any sort of neatness he had combed it into earlier, and he undoes the top button of his shirt with an impatient thumb like he was letting go of whatever image he had been trying to keep up for tonight, because after what just happened, there was no use.

“So when were you going to tell me that they aren’t actually your real parents???” you hiss at him.

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “They’ve raised us since Sana was just three years old. I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Okay well if I had known then I wouldn’t have mentioned the ring??? Now everyone’s left the table because of me.”

“It’s not because of you,” he quickly corrects you, “it’s because of years of unnecessary drama of which I’ve still got no fucking clue why it still gets brough up at every. family. dinner. If you didn’t bring it up, then they would’ve figured out a way to bring it up somehow anyways.”

You blink at him, a little taken aback by how dejected he was by this entire conversation.

“Are you going to go check on Sana?” you ask him.

“No,” he says without hesitation, “she’ll calm down soon enough.”

You press your lips into a thin line, contemplating his dismissal, before you let out a huff of disappointment and disapproval. You pull your napkin off of your lap, setting it up on the table, and slip out of your chair to head into the house in the direction you saw Sana storm off into, leaving Gojo to himself at the table.

As you walk down the hallway, all those pictures you saw hung up on the walls, those photos of illusion that painted this pretty picture of a nuclear family fall apart in the narrow space, those firm smiles and hesitant postures making much more sense to you now. They aren’t even his real parents. Baseball and wedding rings. Those details belonged to a life he never intended on sharing with you.

You walk past the kitchen, stopping briefly just beyond the entrance before backtracking and you find Sana standing near the sink with her arm across her chest as her other hand wipes at her cheeks. The soft sound of a sniffle echoes in the room and you’re surprised to see that Jun left her alone.

Tentatively, you shuffle your feet across the wooden floor. She seems to make note of you in her periphery but refuses to glance up.

“Hey…” you start when you finally make it to the space in front of her, your hip leaning against the edge of the sink counter in parallel with hers as you face her.

“I—” she starts, shuffling her palms across her cheeks again. “I am so severely embarrassed.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the honesty. “Don’t be. It’s just family.”

“No but that’s the point,” she says through a crack in her voice, “I’m thirty-one, I’m married, I’m a mom, but they’ll always just see me as some immature little brat because I always behave like this.”

You don’t know what to say. You suppose if you were a therapist, or a priest, or a mentor, or a mom yourself, or any other person with an emotional IQ higher than yourself, you would know the right thing to say to her right now. But you don’t. So silence is all that you can offer her, and you hope that it’s enough.

It seems to work in it’s own magical way, as she slowly opens herself up to you within the next passing sixty seconds. A fleeting glance up to your face. The halt of pointless fidgeting with the fabric of her sleeve. The way she stands up straighter, her hip no longer leaning against the kitchen counter, and you find that you mirror the same movement.

She clears her throat, rubbing her nose with the knuckle of her index finger, her eyes no longer glistening with tears but the corners of them look puffy.

You glance down at your feet for a moment before inhaling deep and making eye contact with her. “Hey, listen…” you say, “I’m—…I’m really sorry…about earlier today. For overstepping about the bullying. Juno’s your daughter, and I really shouldn’t have given her advice before at least running it by you beforehand. Especially for something so sensitive.”

The delicate muscles of her brow lift in surprise at your words, lids fluttering slowly as she processes your words, and the wave of melancholy is contagious as it washes through you as well.

“I’m sorry too,” she says, “for how angry I got with you. It’s just—” she hesitates, and you see that semblance of her that you’re more familiar with. Strict, stern, rough around the edges but for a noble reason. “Y’know, with kids…we tend to get overprotective over them.” Her gaze drops to somewhere beneath yourselves as if she suddenly lost confidence in her train of thought. “I’m just trying to do the right thing for her.”

A silence settles between the two of you before you realize you ought to respond to her.

“I get it,” you finally say. “I mean—…I don’t. Because I’m not a mom. But…I’m sure that when I am one some day, I’d understand.”

She finally offers you a smile in return to your words, polite but genuine nonetheless. And a soft remnant sniffle makes her ruffle her nose.

Her expression softens, and she stares straight ahead to your collarbone rather than your eyes. “She really likes you, you know?” Sana glances up at you now. “Hasn’t stopped talking about your ‘blubbery’ pancakes since last week.”

“Aww.”

There’s a sad glint in her eyes when she turns her torso away from you slightly in resignation before some hint of optimism flashes by in her face and she turns to you again.

“Do you…think you could give me the recipe?”

You want to ask her if everything is okay. But instead, you say, “sure.”

The sound of footsteps approaching is heard near the kitchen entrance and the two of you glance in that direction to see Jun walking in. He offers you a fleeting glance before taking his place beside Sana, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling him towards her before placing a kiss on her temple and saying, “hey honey.”

You watch as she averts her gaze down to the tips of her toes.

“Feeling better?” he asks her but there’s this lack of warmth you cannot quite discern.

“Yes,” she responds, scratching at her cheek as a discreet way of getting rid of the last remaining wetness that had streamed down her face earlier.

He rubs her arm soothingly and then looks at you with a smile pressed into a firm line. “Doing alright?”

You blink at him. “Wh—…yes.”

“Say, y/n, how’s your mom doing by the way?” he asks.

“She’s…better. She’s in hospice now.”

“Palliative?”

“Well—” you say, “I guess. It’s just temporary.”

He shuffles inside the pocket of his coat and takes out something. A small card with finely printed black ink on it. He hands it to you.

“I can’t imagine how expensive that all must be,” he says, and you glance down at the card.

Carevest Capital est. 2016

Invest in a healthier you!

You glance up at Jun. Sana’s gaze has now shifted to the inside of the sink.

“I started this business,” he says, “where we’re revolutionizing the way healthcare costs are managed. In our platform, we basically invest our clients’ money into the stock market, leveraging our high-reward algorithm to maximize returns. But here’s the unique part: we partner with leading healthcare CEOs who match a portion of the profits as an incentive for stock purchases. Together, these funds go directly toward paying off hospital bills and easing related financial burdens.”

Your eyes widen at his words. The speech was practiced, one you can only assume he has pitched to many potential clientele. But there’s a hint of personable grace to it as well.

“I’m telling you, y/n, we’ve had clients who have overcome six figures of medical debt in just six months,” he says, “and you’ll only need a couple thousand dollars to start yourself up.”

You purse your lips together, your finger pinching the corner of the card. “That’s amazing, Jun.”

He smiles at you, releasing Sana’s waist. “Sorry if this kinda came out of nowhere, but I heard through the grapevine that things have been rough.”

Oh, like how your card has declined publicly at the grocery store multiple times, or how you haven’t been able to afford your insurance deductible to get that chipped off part of your bumper fixed, or the fact you haven’t paid your landscapers in over three months so your lawn now looks like a swamp? It was a small town. And people’s finances were always a topic of interest for most.

“I just wanted to offer any help I can,” Jun says.

“Thanks,” you say, returning his smile, “I’ll, um, I’ll look into it.” You push the card into your pocket.

He offers you that same firm smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before he pulls Sana to him again, placing another kiss along her hairline and the PDA seems like overcompensation on some front from the way Sana is entirely frigid to his touch.

Maybe it was a woman’s intuition,

But you felt like something was wrong.

“Kids,” you hear Mr. Gojo’s crackly voice say as he stands leaning against the doorframe near the kitchen entrance, “let’s finish dinner?”

The three of you exchange glances before nodding and heading back towards the hall.

Your peach cobbler was apparently very good, the only thing that seemed to cut through the tension of the night. But that was the thing with family, right? You can yell and scream and cry and lecture and mope and roll your eyes at each other all you want but at the end of the day, they’re still family. Sana still seems slightly dejected though, and you can see Gojo in the corner of your eye at the table glancing up at her every other minute or so. His own way of making sure she’s doing okay, you think to yourself. Sana refuses to meet anyone’s line of sight except yours, however, which makes you feel some slight burdensome responsibility of sisterhood you had never signed up for. Nonetheless, you try to offer her a soothing smile whenever she looks up at you, and it seems to put her at ease.

The news of Sana and Jun moving seemed slightly anticlimactic, as Mrs. Gojo mentioned that they had already had an inkling that Jun and Sana would be moving closer to the city. You briefly wonder if Mrs. Gojo knew all along, but decided to make the announcement into some big affair just so that she could see her niece and nephew over a meal.

You make no more embarrassing comments. Conversation dulls into anything and everything unpersonal to you all, such as the news and weather and gossip of other people. And somewhere along the night, you relax your knee, the ball of it pressing into Gojo’s thigh underneath the table. It was wordless, innocent contact that occurs when two people become more comfortable with one another. Only excusable due to the slight buzz you felt in your veins from the wine. He’s kissed you before, yet somehow the press of his thigh against yours feels even more searing. There’s a point along the night where you tip your head to the right slightly, daringly close to resting your head on his shoulder due to the tipsy dizziness weighing in your head, and it would certainly put on a convincing show of newlywed affection for his aunt and uncle, but you manage to catch yourself. And subsequently refuse any more glasses of wine.

“Thanks for having me,” you say to Mrs. Gojo at the front entrance before she pulls you in for a hug.

“Oh, anytime dear,” she says as she gently pats your back, “please.”

When she pulls away from the hug, she holds you by your shoulders before her eyes glance down towards your left hand and the shimmering diamond that sat on the ring finger. She holds your hand in hers and lifts it to examine the twinkle underneath the lights of the chandelier.

“It really is a pretty ring,” she says, her eyes glossing over. “It looked beautiful on my sister, and it looks beautiful on you too.”

Your breath hitches slightly in your throat. “Thank you, Mrs. Gojo.”

“Please,” she says in response to the title, “Sumiko is fine.” But in less of a way in which she’s relaxing formalities, but rather in a way that acknowledges she never had the sovereignty to be called that in the first place.

You hear masculine voices approaching down the hallway as the three men make their way towards the front entrance as well. Gojo glances at you in the midst of their conversation, and he leaves the two of them to make his way over to you.

“Alright,” Gojo says, turning to face the rest of them as he stands beside you. “We’ll head out now.”

Sumiko pulls him in for a hug, then his uncle, and then obnoxiously by Jun as well. Sana fidgets with her fingers as she remains at the end of the line, and you catch a glimpse of surprise on her face when Gojo pulls her in for a hug too. You see him whisper something to her, and it’s only after she hears what he said that she returns the hug and wraps her arms around him as well.

You’re jolted out of your people-watching trance when Gojo walks up to you and takes your hand in his, shoving his other in his pocket. You glance down at the sight, the way his large hand engulfs your own. It’s warm in a firm hold, delicately squeezing your hand once right before you feel the cold air behind you when his uncle opens the door.

Well, you survived. That’s what you think to yourself as you sit in the passenger seat of Gojo’s car, watching the city lights twinkle as you two drive by. You don’t know what you were expecting. Drama? Ease? Tension? For a piece of the sky to fall and land on the roof? There was a part of you that wanted to impress. You want to be one of those daughter-in-laws that the in-laws just adore. You know, where they’re like, god am I so happy that she’s a part of the family now! The one that the mother-in-law is just so ecstatic to know that her son managed to hold down such a catch.

But any expectations and pressure dissolve with the reminder that this is all fake. Fake, fake, fake. And you’d do really well to remind yourself of that reality whenever you spent time with Gojo. Whenever you find yourself acclimating into his life for even a moment, just remember that it’s fake. Can you have a little fun here and there? Sure. Will you probably find yourself in even stranger situations going forward? Yes, because, well, that’s how life is. But it’s just fake. No obligations, no responsibility, nothing. Nada. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

But as you walk through the front door, staring straight ahead into the dark house at Gojo’s back as he sets down the keys by the foyer table, and even as you follow him further into the house towards the kitchen, that feeling inside you surges.

A woman's intuition.

That something between Jun and Sana was wrong.

Not just routine marital issues,

Or the occasional argument,

Something worse. Something dangerous.

And it’s not something you would ever expect a man to pick up on, even Gojo.

Because it was from the way Sana’s eyes silently communicated with you from across the table,

Something so subtle, a silent plea across a shared dimension,

That she needed help.

“Hey…” you speak up softly, standing in front of the fridge.

Gojo glances over his shoulder at you from the other side of the kitchen island, barely illuminated by the moonlight through the windows. He turns to face you. “What’s up?”

You blink at him.

“Um, I really don’t want to overstep again, but—”

There’s a sobering thought that flashes through your mind when you recall that you have never seen yourself as the hero in anyone’s story.

Simply because you could never, ever, ever trust yourself.

You could never trust your feelings or your decisions.

Because you cosigned on hundreds of thousands of dollars of medical loans. Because you stuck around for five years with a man that didn’t love you anymore. Because you still feel naive enough to believe that your best friend who betrayed you still misses you somehow. Because you still foolishly believe your mother will be around to hold her grandchildren someday.

Because you thought that your best bet in order to pull yourself out of hell was to fake marry a man,

And then act as if it’s all real when his aunt looks you in the eye with bittersweet tears as you now wear her bereaved sister’s ring in honor, entirely unaware it was actually being worn in vain.

How could you ever trust your judgement when you behave this way?

Never the hero. If anything, the villain.

“What is it?” Gojo repeats when he sees that you’ve been silent for too long. He tilts his head at you, his hair falling over his forehead haphazardly and he runs a hand through it to try to get it out of his face. Even in the dim light, his eyes shine a breathtaking blue.

You swallow hard.

“Um,” you say, and then glance down at the wetness you find at your heel. “The, um, the fridge is leaking again.”

He blinks at you for a solid ten seconds, and then the tension in his shoulders drops when he sulks and closes his eyes with exhaustion and defeat.

“Fuck. Okay.”

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. looool i really keep thinking i can post shorter chapters and them bam they be 10k+ words. but i swearrr it's just cuz i be yapping :(( anywho hope you enjoyed this chapter!! a lot of characters were kinda introduced and mm given a bit more depth in this chapter. sorry there wasn't as much romance or anything in this one though haha there will be more in the next one :0 big big thank you to my lovely ihm beta readers ayelin, jules, leni & mirl for helping me out w this chapter!! i believe i may have mentioned this before but i STRUGGLLEEEE with multi-character scenes (i'm much more comfy writing scenes that just have back n forth between two characters) so this chapter was challenginggg esp the whole dinner sequences and there were also a lot of complicated feelings at play, descriptions, stuff i wasn't sure if it was coming off the right way (and tbh am still not sure haha) but they really helped me work my thoughts out n gave wonderful suggestions too so tysm :'') much loveee!! hope to see you all in the next one <3 - ellie

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mapis-putellas · 2 days ago

Text

𝑺𝒉𝒆’𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈/𝑨.𝑷𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

Alexia seemed completely at ease as she drove the two of you to the party. Her hand rested casually on your bare thigh, giving it an occasional reassuring squeeze as the city lights flickered past the windows. She glanced at you as she brought the car to a stop at a red light, her eyes softening when she noticed you fiddling with the hem of your dress.

“Estás nerviosa?” she asked gently, her accent curling around the words in a way that always made your stomach flip.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. “A little. It’s a big deal meeting everyone all at once.”

Alexia smiled, her thumb brushing lightly over the side of your thigh. “They will love you,” she said, her tone brimming with quiet confidence. “Just be yourself. That’s all you need to do.”

You smiled back at her, appreciating her faith in you, but the nervous energy bubbling in your chest didn’t dissipate. This wasn’t just any group of people; this was her team—her family. Alexia had always been cautious about introducing significant others to her teammates, and you knew why. The women from her past had left scars that took time to heal, and even now, you could tell there were moments when her walls still crept back up.

As you approached the venue, the faint sound of music spilled into the night air. Alexia parked the car and climbed out before making her way round to the passenger side and opening your door, her hand outstretched to help you out. You took it, finding comfort in the familiar warmth of her touch as she reached around you to close the door.

“Lista?” she asked with a small, encouraging smile.

You nodded, taking a deep breath as she led you inside.

You stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, clutching the glass of water Alexia had handed you before she’d been called away to help coordinate something for the celebration. She hadn’t even had the chance to introduce you to anyone, and as the buzz of chatter and laughter filled the air, you felt utterly out of place, an outsider in a tight-knit group of friends and teammates.

It was fine, you told yourself. You could do this. These were just people, and you’d dealt with intimidating groups before. You adjusted the hem of your dress and took a steadying breath before making your way toward a cluster of Alexia’s teammates.

Patri was the first one you approached. Her bright smile and easy laughter had drawn you in when you’d first spotted her across the room, so you figured she might be the safest person to talk to.

“Hi, I’m Y/n. I’m Alexia’s girlfriend,” you said, offering your hand with a nervous smile.

Patri’s smile faltered, her eyes flicking over you quickly before she leaned back slightly, not taking your hand. “Girlfriend, huh?” she said, her tone light but laced with something that made your stomach twist.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice soft but steady. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Sure,” she said, her gaze already drifting elsewhere as she gave a noncommittal nod. “Excuse me.”

And just like that, she turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your hand still awkwardly extended. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you dropped your hand back to your side, forcing yourself to stay composed.

It’s fine. Maybe she was busy.

You turned to another group nearby, where Claudia and Aitana were chatting animatedly in rapid Spanish. Their laughter was infectious, and you hoped their good mood might make them more welcoming.

“Hi,” you said, smiling brightly as you approached. “I’m—”

But before you could finish, Aitana’s eyes flicked to you, narrowing slightly. She leaned in to whisper something to Claudia, who looked at you briefly before smirking, and you felt your cheeks heat.

“I’m Alexia’s girlfriend,” you tried again, pushing past the lump forming in your throat. “It’s really nice to meet you both.”

Claudia crossed her arms, her smirk still firmly in place. “Girlfriend, huh?” she echoed Patri’s earlier words, but there was no mistaking the edge in her tone.

“Yes,” you replied firmly, though your voice wavered slightly.

“Eso es... interesante,” Aitana said, exchanging a glance with Claudia.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but they turned their backs on you, resuming their conversation as if you weren’t even there.

Your chest tightened, but you refused to let it show. You scanned the room, spotting Alexia still deep in conversation with the team manager. She glanced at you briefly, her eyes lighting up when they met yours, and she smiled. You returned it weakly, not wanting her to see how rattled you were.

Determined not to give up, you approached Mapi, who was chatting with Frido and Lucy near the bar. You’d heard Alexia mention Mapi a lot—she was one of her closest friends. Maybe she’d be different.

“Hi, I’m Alexia’s girlfriend,” you said, trying to project more confidence this time.

Mapi’s head tilted slightly as she gave you a once-over. “Oh,” she said simply, her tone flat.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you continued, extending your hand.

She didn’t take it. Instead, she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Girlfriend,” she repeated, the word dripping with skepticism.

Frido and Lucy exchanged looks, and Lucy shrugged, clearly disinterested. “Another one?” Lucy muttered under her breath, though loud enough for you to hear.

Your heart sank. You tried to keep your expression neutral, but it was becoming harder with each cold interaction.

“I’m sorry?” you asked, forcing yourself to remain polite despite the sting of her words.

“Nothing,” Lucy said, waving you off dismissively.

Mapi let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Bueno, buena suerte,” she said, her tone almost mocking. “Lo necesitarás”.

They turned away from you, diving back into their conversation as if you weren’t even there.

You took a step back, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. You glanced around the room again, looking for Alexia, but she was still busy.

Each interaction chipped away at your confidence, but you refused to let it show. The whispers and side glances only grew louder, and while you couldn’t catch everything being said, you caught enough to know you weren’t welcome.

“She’s probably just here for the money.”

“Another gold digger.”

“Why does Ale keep falling for this?”

The words echoed in your mind, cruel and cutting. They didn’t know you. They didn’t know that you’d been with Alexia for months before you even knew who she was, that to you, she was just Ale—your sweet, thoughtful girlfriend who made you laugh until your sides hurt and held you when the world felt too heavy.

They didn’t know was that you had your own successful career, one that had nothing to do with Alexia’s fame. You were an astrophysicist specializing in renewable energy solutions, your work making headlines in scientific communities for its potential to revolutionize sustainable living. You’d never once needed or wanted Alexia’s money, and in fact, you were the one who often planned elaborate dates, surprised her with thoughtful gifts, and went out of your way to show her how much you cared.

But none of that mattered to them. They’d already made up their minds on who they thought you were.

By the time Alexia returned, you were sitting on the edge of the couch, nursing the drink you still hadn’t touched. She noticed the tightness in your smile, the shine in your eyes and the way your hands fidgeted with the hem of your dress.

“Todo bien?” she asked, crouching beside you so she could look into your eyes.

You nodded quickly, not trusting yourself to speak without your voice betraying you. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.” You whispered.

Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she stood back up and held out her hand. “Let’s go home,” she said softly, wiggling her fingers.

You followed her without hesitation, relieved to leave the party and everything that had happened there, behind. In the car, she kept glancing at you, her concern growing with each mile.

“Seguro que estás bien?” she asked again.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though your voice was quieter this time. Less sure.

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push, reaching over to rest her hand on your thigh instead. The weight of her touch grounded you as you curled your fingers beneath her own, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the ache in your chest.

That night, as Alexia slept soundly beside you with her face tucked within the crook of your neck and her leg thrown over your hips, you stared at the ceiling, replaying every cruel comment and dismissive glance in your mind as you absently trailed the tips of your fingers up and down the bare skin of her back. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that their opinions didn’t define you or your relationship. But the hurt lingered, a quiet ache that refused to be ignored.

From that night on, you began declining Alexia’s invitations to join her team for outings. You made excuses—work commitments, exhaustion, anything to avoid putting yourself in that position again. At first, she accepted your reasons without question, but as days turned into weeks, her confusion turned into concern.

At home, you were still the same person she fell in love with. Caring, gentle, and oh so sweet. She loved the way you’d curl up on the couch with her, your fingers running through her hair as she told you about her day. She adored the way you’d sneak into the kitchen while she cooked, wrapping your arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

But whenever she brought up her teammates, you withdrew completely, your usual brightness dimming into something more subdued. Alexia noticed the change and couldn’t understand it. Every time she asked, you brushed it off with a smile and a vague excuse, leaving her more confused than before.

It wasn’t until one quiet evening on your balcony that she finally confronted you, her eyes filled with worry as she asked, “Why don’t you want to come with me anymore?”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to burden her with the truth, didn’t want to cause tension between her and her team. But you knew she deserved honesty.

“They don’t like me,” you finally whispered, your voice barely audible over the city noise.

Alexia frowned, leaning closer as if she hadn’t heard you correctly. “¿Qué? They don’t like you?”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your lap. “Your teammates. They think I’m… like the others. That I’m using you.”

The words hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, Alexia didn’t respond. You chanced a glance at her and saw the way her jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing as the realization sank in.

“Who said that?” she asked, her tone sharper than you’d ever heard it.

You shook your head quickly, your hands moving to clasp hers. “It doesn’t matter. Please, Alexia, don’t make it a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” she insisted, her voice firm but still laced with concern. “No te conocen como yo. No tienen derecho a decir esas cosas.” (They don’t know you like me. They have no right to say those things.)

“I know,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “But it’s not worth the fight. I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

Alexia’s hand cupped your cheek, her touch gentle but grounding as she tilted your face toward hers. “¿Crees que me importa más lo que dicen que tú?” (Do you think I care more about what they say than you?)

“No, of course not,” you said quickly, your eyes searching hers. “But I don’t want to cause problems. You’re their captain, their friend. I don’t want to come between that.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her frustration evident, but it wasn’t directed at you. She exhaled deeply, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she tried to reign in her emotions.

“They don’t see what I see,” she said softly, her thumb brushing against your cheek. “They don’t know how much you mean to me. How much you’ve done for me. I should’ve told them.”

“It’s not your responsibility to defend me, Ale,” you said gently, your hand covering hers where it rested against your cheek.

“Yes, it is,” she countered, her eyes blazing with determination. “Eres mi compañero. Debería haber dejado claro desde el principio lo importante que eres para mí. Que no eres como los demás. Que eres...” She hesitated, her voice softening. “You’re everything to me.” (You’re my partner. I should have made it clear from the beginning how important you are to me. That you’re not like the others. That you are...you are everything to me.)

Your breath hitched at her words, the sincerity in her tone leaving no room for doubt.

“Ellos no entienden,” she continued, her voice thick with emotion. “Pero les haré entender. Les contaré cómo nos conocimos, cómo ni siquiera sabías quién era yo durante meses. Cómo eres el que siempre está planeando citas y sorprendiéndome con regalos. Cómo nunca me has pedido nada.” (They don’t understand. But I will make you understand. I’ll tell you how we met, how you didn’t even know who I was for months. How are you the one who is always planning dates and surprising me with gifts. How have you never asked me for anything?)

“Ale, you don’t have to—”

“Sí, lo hago,” she interrupted, her grip on your hand tightening. “Porque necesitan saber la verdad. Y la verdad es que nunca he sido más feliz que contigo. Eres lo mejor que me ha pasado, y no dejaré que nadie te haga sentir que no eres suficiente.” (Yes, I do, because they need to know the truth. And the truth is that I’ve never been happier than with you. You are the best thing that has happened to me, and I will not let anyone make you feel that you are not enough.)

Her words brought tears to your eyes, and you blinked rapidly, trying to keep them at bay. “You mean that?”

“Every word,” she said without hesitation, her voice steady and unwavering.

You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around her and burying your face in the crook of her neck. She held you tightly, her hands running soothingly up and down your back. For the first time since that night at the party, the weight on your chest began to lift. When you finally pulled back, she cupped your face again, her thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen.

“Promise me you won’t keep this from me again,” she said softly. “Si algo te está haciendo daño, necesito saberlo. Somos un equipo, ¿recuerdas?” (If something is hurting you, I need to know. We’re a team, remember?)

You nodded as you leaned into her hold, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I promise.”

“Good,” she said, her own smile breaking through the worry that had clouded her features. “Porque nunca quiero que sientas que estás solo en esto.” (Because I never want you to feel that you are alone in this.)

She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you into another hug. You wrap your arms tightly around her waist, hands slipping beneath her shirt to rest against the bare skin of her back. She pressed closer against you, hand rising to cup the back of your head as she rocks the both of you side to side, cheek pressed against the top of your head.

The next day, Alexia was uncharacteristically quiet during training. Her usual focus and precision were still there, but there was an edge to her movements, a simmering tension that the team couldn’t ignore. When the session ended, she didn’t linger to chat or laugh with her teammates like usual. Instead, she stood in the center of the locker room, her arms crossed, and waited for everyone to gather.

The energy in the room shifted. Mapi and Ingrid exchanged glances, and Patri raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing something was off.

“Necesito hablar con todas,” Alexia began, her voice steady but firm. (I need to talk to everyone)

The chatter died down, and all eyes turned to her. Her eyes scanned the room, landing briefly on each of them. “I found out something yesterday. Something that has me very disappointed in all of you.”

The room was silent

“Se trata de cómo has estado tratando a mi novia,” she said, her voice dropping slightly. (It’s about how you’ve been treating my girlfriend)

There were murmurs of confusion, some players glancing at one another, but no one spoke.

“La traje a la fiesta porque quería que te conocera, para que se sintiera bienvenida. En cambio, fue ignorada, insultada y se le hizo sentir que no pertenecía. Algunos de ustedes incluso la llamaron buscadora de oro.” (I brought her to the party because I wanted her to meet you, so that she would feel welcome. Instead, she was ignored, insulted and made to feel that she did not belong. Some of you even called her a gold digger.)

Her voice hardened, and the room seemed to shrink under the weight of her anger.

“Ella no me lo dijo,” Alexia continued, her tone sharp. “Porque ella no quería causar problemas. Pero tienes que entender algo: ella no es como las mujeres con las que he estado antes. Ella ni siquiera sabía quién era yo cuando empezamos a salir. A ella no le importa la fama ni el dinero. Ella se preocupa por mí.” (She didn’t tell me. Because she didn’t want to cause problems. But you have to understand something: she’s not like the women I’ve been with before. She didn’t even know who I was when we started dating. She doesn’t care about fame or money. She cares about me)

Her words hung heavy in the air, and no one dared to interrupt.

“Ella es amable. Ella es inteligente. Ella tiene éxito por derecho propio, de maneras que la mayoría de ustedes ni siquiera se dan cuenta. Y ella me trata mejor que nadie. Entonces, ¿escuchar que las personas que considero familia la hicieron sentir no bienvenida?” She shook her head, her disappointment palpable. “Es inaceptable.” (She’s kind. She’s smart. She succeeds in her own right, in ways that most of you don’t even realise. And she treats me better than anyone else. So, to hear that the people I consider family made her feel unwelcome? It’s unacceptable)

Mapi spoke up first. “Ale, no quisimos decir...” (Ale, we didn’t mean…)

“No,” Alexia cut her off, her voice sharp. “No me digas que no fue intencional. ¿Ignorar a alguien? ¿Se niega a estrechar su mano? ¿Llamándola por su nombre? Esas son opciones.” (Don’t tell me it wasn’t intentional. Ignore someone? Refusing to shake her hand? Calling her by her name? Those are options.)

Mapi looked down, guilt evident on her face, and the room grew quieter still.

“La quiero,” Alexia said, her voice softening but losing none of its conviction. “Y si te preocupas por mí, la tratarás con el respeto que se merece. Ella es parte de mi vida, y eso significa que es parte de este equipo, te guste o no.” (I love her. And if you care about me, you will treat her with the respect she deserves. She is part of my life, and that means she is part of this team, whether you like it or not.)

No one argued. Slowly, heads began to nod, and a few murmured apologies filled the silence.

Alexia nodded once, satisfied for now. “Bueno. Porque vas a tener la oportunidad de…show it to her”.

“¿Qué quieres decir?” Patri asked cautiously. (What do you mean?)

“Porque ella viene a la barbacoa esta noche, y espero que todos ustedes estén mejor.” (Because she’s coming to the barbeque tonight, and I hope you’re all better.)

The barbecue was a casual team tradition, held in one of the larger gardens on a sunny afternoon. You had hesitated when Alexia invited you, worry flickering in your eyes. But she was persistent, her hands on either side of your waist. “Trust me, amor. It will be different this time.”

When you arrived, Alexia’s arm looped protectively around your waist, guiding you through the throng of players and staff. A few heads turned your way, but to your surprise, the smiles that greeted you seemed genuine, if a little sheepish.

Ingrid approached first, her green eyes soft with guilt as she extended a hand. You didn’t recognise her as one of the people who had spoken down to you, so you didn’t quite understand why she looked as guilty as she did, but you appreciated the fact she was one of the first to try and make amends.

“Hi,” she said, her voice careful. “I’m Ingrid.“

You hesitated for a moment before shaking her hand, offering a small smile. “Hi.”

Mapi sidled up a few moments later with an exaggerated grin, her Spanish accent thick as she playfully elbowed you, “Lo siento. You forgive us, sí? Alexia would kill us if you don’t.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing slightly. “I’ll think about it.”

As the evening went on, the team’s efforts to make amends became clear. They included you in conversations, asked you questions, and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you.

But it wasn’t until they saw the way you interacted with Alexia that the guilt truly sank in.

You were attentive without being overbearing, making sure she had a drink, coaxing her to eat when she got too caught up in talking with her teammates. When the sun began to set and the temperature dropped, you wordlessly draped your jacket over her shoulders, your hands rubbing her arms over the material on her arms to make sure she was warm as she instinctively leaned against your front.

“She’s always like this,” Alexia said softly to Ingrid as you headed off to grab both you and Alexia another drink.

“She takes care of you,” Ingrid replied, a note of admiration in her voice.

Alexia smiled, her eyes shining with affection at the mere thought of you. “Better than anyone ever has.”

By the end of the evening, the team’s initial wariness had dissolved completely. As you and Alexia prepared to leave, Mapi approached you again, her expression earnest. “We were wrong,” she said simply. “About you. I’m sorry.”

You nodded, your smile soft but genuine. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

As you walked away hand-in-hand with Alexia, her thumb brushing over your knuckles, you felt lighter than you had in weeks.

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

#soft alexia putellas #protective alexia putellas #alexia putellas x you #alexia putellas x reader #woso community #woso x reader #woso appreciation #woso imagine

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woso-dreamzzz · 2 days ago

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Second Time's The Charm XI

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: An old face watches a match

She wasn't as young as she once was.

Teaching hadn't originally been her first choice as a job but after finishing school and spending a few years bored senseless as a receptionist, at age twenty-five, she'd made the change to teaching children in their first year of school.

Now, twenty-five years later, she was getting older and her students seemed to be just as wild and excitable as they always had been.

This school trip hadn't exactly been planned by the school, not fully anyway but a generous donation from who knows where had her and a few other teachers taking a three classes of wiggling and excited five year olds to a home match for the Barcelona women's team.

"Let's get to our seats now," She says, trying to get everyone in her class seated and happy but it's like trying to fight a group of wet cats - a losing battle.

"Miss, he pushed me!"

"Miss, I want to sit with my friends!"

"Miss, I can't find my bracelet!"

"Miss, my Mami gave me spending money!"

"Miss!"

She sighs to herself, rattling off instructions in a way that only a practiced teacher could.

"Lucas, stop pushing people. We use our nice hands with people. Isabella, you can sit next to your friends if there's space. Ana, your bracelet got put into your bag. Pedro, spending money can be used at half time. Now, everyone needs to sit down or else they won't start the match!"

It takes a little while to get all the kids settled and she briefly thinks about how this would be a hell of a lot easier if the school had more people who could chaperone.

It's a fleeting thought because she knows she can't do anything about it now but still, it would be nice.

Nice like it is now to watch one of her old students walk out as one of the most well known footballers not only in Spain but the world as well.

Alexia Putellas, the captain of Barcelona, leads her team out - head held high and back straight. A far cry from the little girl that used to slump in her seat in class and cry when someone took her ball at breaktime.

There weren't many students that she remembered so well - a handful that have ended up in politics, one that somehow ended up at the UN and one whose arrest made national news.

But Alexia was one of the good ones, helpful and polite most of the time.

She can remember though, with startlingly clarity the second day of classes.

It had been her second day as a teacher ever and she'd been supervising the playground at lunch when Alexia had appeared and dragged her off.

She'd dragged her all the way to the slide where you'd been waiting.

"You have to marry us, Miss," Alexia had said, eyes wide and incredibly earnest," We want to get married."

"Er..."

"You have to, miss," You'd joined in," Because we're in love and my Papa always said that people in love get married."

She'd been speechless then but still done as you and Alexia said, a little charmed by those two little girls begging to be married under the slide.

Alexia was easy to follow now, her exploits known throughout the country on and off the pitch. You'd faded though and your old teacher wasn't quite sure where you'd ended up.

Likely something successful and important.

Even as a little girl, you'd had a good work ethic. Work before play, always, was something you'd abided by.

She could see you as something important now. Your parents were doctors, she's pretty sure, so maybe you followed in their footsteps.

It would suit you, she thinks as she watches Alexia slam the ball into the net for a third time today.

Barcelona wins.

But that's entirely to be expected.

What isn't expected though, is for the staff from the team to invite the classes down onto the pitch to meet the players.

"Carlos, don't run! Mia, don't yell over someone! Lucas, again! Stop pushing people! Everyone will get a turn!"

"Some things never change then."

She turns with a smile. "Alexia."

"Hi, Miss."

"You don't have to call me that anymore."

Alexia's brow wrinkles. "What else would I call you? You've always been my teacher."

"You're an adult now, Alexia. You don't have to call me that anymore if you don't want to."

"But I do. Is that alright?"

"That's okay. So long as you want to."

Alexia beams, the same big smile she had as a five year old when she would come to the desk with a picture she drew of herself in the Barcelona kit.

It's still strange to see that exact image in real life.

"I'd like to introduce you to one of my daughters. This is Maya."

"She's beautiful."

"Mi Amor is just changing our other daughter. They'll be out in a minute."

"It's nice to see that you're doing so well. A good job. A nice family."

"We have dogs too! And my wife's old cat! She built me a house, you know? My wife, that is. Not her cat."

It's nice to see that Alexia's word vomit from her childhood hadn't changed much either. She was so stoic and quiet most of the time but any topic that drew her interest could be (and would be) talked about for hours at a time.

"That's nice to hear, Alexia."

"And we bought a villa in Greece for our next holiday! And I bought her this nice matching bracelet and necklace set! But! You can't tell her because it's going to be a surprise!"

"A special occasion?"

Alexia looks affronted at the idea. "I don't need a special occasion to show my wife how much I love her! Just my love!" She turns, glancing over her shoulder and her whole face lights up. "Oh! Amor, you're back! Look, Miss Rivera is here!"

Miss Rivera looks over to the tunnel where you have emerged from, a babbling baby on your hip and a rock of a ring on your hand.

"Oh, hi, Miss!"

She sighs. "I told Alexia that you two don't need to call me that anymore."

You frown. "But you've always been our teacher. What else would we call you?"

"Miss, this is our new baby Elena." Alexia puffs out her chest proudly. "My wife gave birth to her. Doesn't she look good for giving birth a few months ago?"

You slap her on the shoulder before pressing a kiss to where you just slapped. "Don't listen to her, Miss. She'll take any excuse to talk about it."

Alexia nods solemnly. "It was very scary because there were complications but she's doing so well now. Both Elena and my wife. Right, Amor? She's a doctor, you know. Very successful."

Again, Alexia seems to preen like a peacock as if you being so successful and so smart brought her such pride.

"You've both been very successful," Miss Rivera says," I'm so proud. A long way from that marriage under the slide, huh?"

You grin, intertwining your fingers with Alexia's.

"But still married."

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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peachesofteal · 2 days ago

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Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley/female reader This is the last part before the epilogue

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise honey, remember?” You nod, but your eyes stay glued to the windshield, tracking the raindrops sliding on and off the glass. “Hey,” he reaches for your hand, pulling it into his grasp, “it’s okay. You’re safe.”

“I’m with you.” You repeat the mantra, the one you repeat in the shower, in bed, in the living room. I’m safe. I’m with you.

He wants to look away from the road so badly long enough to see your eyes, really see them. It’s how he knows where you are, if you’re there, or here, or somewhere else. Just in case, he reminds you. “The kids are with Gaz and Cami. Soap is sleeping in the guest room. They’re all together, and they’re safe.” You nod again, but answer as a robot.

“They’re safe.” He can’t do it. He pulls the car over and you turn in alarm, watching as he steps around to the passenger side door and pulls it wide, dropping to his knee.

“Look at me-“

“You’re getting wet!” You sputter, grabbing at his jacket, but he stills you.

“Look at me, mama.” Your eyes are full of tears, and he cups your cheek. “Where are you?” Your lip wobbles.

“That room.” He pries your fingers open and places your palm over his chest.

“What’s that?”

“Your heart.”

“Your heart, sweet girl. It’s yours. Count them for me.” You shake your head, clenching your eyes shut, and he squeezes your knee. “Deep breath. Count them.”

“O-one, two, thr-we, four…” he does it with you, quietly, supporting, but not coaching. Not leading. You have to do it, you have to bring yourself back. “F-ive… five, six, seven, eight, nine…” each beat steadies your voice until you’re sitting a little straighter, breathing a little deeper.

“There she is. There’s my girl.” He wipes a tear from your cheek, “that’s it.”

“Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…” you reach twenty five, and then give him a nod. He is thoroughly soaked now, but who cares. It’s not even close to what matters.

“Where are you?” He presses a slow kiss to your forehead.

“I’m here, with you.” You meet his gaze, clear and focused, and he nods.

“Okay.”

“You could have told me.”

“Not as fun, mama, I wanted it to be a surprise.” You’re standing in the middle of the room, looking around, smiling. It’s the same room he brought you to years ago. The room where he put the ring on your finger, the room you told him you’d spend the rest of your life, his life, together. The curtains are the same, the decor, even the bedspread.

“Si,” your voice wavers, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you against his chest.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.”

You're surprisingly not nervous at all, though he's not that shocked. You have a few tattoos, medium sized, black and grey like his. No sleeves or anything that extensive, but you picked up a small collection during your travels.

"Wait... are you serious?" You squeak, eyeing the chair and then the guy sitting beside it, Mark, the same guy that's done almost all of Simon's work. Simon's still not sure how he convinced him to come out here and do this, but he suspects the sentimental piece of this occasion had a lot to do with it. "What... what is it?" Simon glances at him, and then nods, holding his breath as he pulls the stencil out of the binder to lay it flat in front of you.

It's a ring. Black and grey to match your other tattoos, but the same shape, band, everything, as the one you lost. Except-

The stone frames three constellations. Orion, Phoenix and... "Lyra." You whisper, tracing the line work. You look up at him with tears in your eyes. "Orpheus and Eurydice."

"Everyone says it's a tragedy, y'know? That he failed. But those people have never felt the way I feel about you." His throat is unbearably tight, and he swallows to keep it together. "They don't know how I'd go to hell to bring you home, they don't know how desperate I'd be to look back and and make sure you're still there with me," he breathes deep through his nose, chasing away the tidal wave rising in his chest. Mark, thankfully, has decided to pretend to be busy with something else. "They don't know how I'd let myself be ripped apart just to see you again. To spend eternity with you."

"Simon..."

"You don't have to do it," he rushes out, squeezing your hand, "just say so, and we'll leave. I won't be mad." You reach for him, tugging him close by his wrist and standing up on your tiptoes, trying to bury your face in his neck, seeking you safe space.

"I love you. I love... I love you." He brushes your tears away. "I want it. Yes, of course. I want it."

"You sure?" You cast one last look at the drawing, and nod.

"Eternity with you." He smiles.

"Eternity."

#peaches writes #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #through me #ghost x reader

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heyysteven · 2 days ago

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I love, I love, I love

Summary: Some Husband!salesman headcannons

Warnings: Brief mentions of death and Fluff :))

Husband!salesman who just loves to be the little spoon, he absolutely loves the feeling of resting his head on your chest as you caress his hair talking about the details of your day. He didn't mind being the big spoon either. He just loves any reason to be wrapped around you really.

Husband!salesman who could hear you talk for the rest of his hours. Tell him about the book you just finished reading, tell him about the new recipe you wanted to try, tell him about new gossip at work. He would listen patiently and ask questions wherever he got confused.

Husband!salesman who texted you every two hours. Did you reach your office safely? I’m eating the sandwich you packed! Did you have your lunch? Any updates on the new gossip? Will reach home in twenty minutes;)) Do you want anything from the grocery store? Got you donuts just in case.

Husband!salesman who would take pictures of every sunset, every animal, every flower and send them to you because they reminded him of you and how you would have taken pictures if you were with him.

Husband!salesman who would buy you a huge bouquet of flowers before every date night, conveying different messages using the language of flowers. Last time he got home one full of red tulips and sunflowers (because his passion for you ran murderously deep silly!).

Husband!salesman who planned every date night down to the minute. He would book the reservations for that cuisine you once mentioned you wanted to try. He would whistle as soon as you step out the room in your evening dress, twirl you by your hand and ask for the n’th time how he got so lucky (would definitely be disappointed if you wore something without back zips). He would always be the perfect gentleman for you; right from driving you, opening the doors, pulling your chairs, all you had to do was shut your brain and enjoy the evening.

Husband!salesman who always tried matching his tie to the color of your dress.

Husband!salesman who loved holding hands more than life itself. He would love feeling the cold metal of your wedding ring every time you locked your fingers. He would walk around with the most proud smile ever on his face, softly swinging your intertwined fingers with each step.

Husband!salesman who could never say no to you. He was born with a lot of impressive abilities and strategic skills. Murdering someone with a fork? Easy! Selling people the idea of getting rich by playing a bunch of game? A piece of cake! Saying no to his wife? What is that? Shouldn’t it be punishable by law?

Husband!salesman who couldn’t cook to save his life. He somehow ended up burning everything he put on stove, so he just stuck to cleaning instead. It was a silent agreement, you would make the breakfast and dinners and he would wash and dust while you cooked. On days he ran late, he loved being welcomed by the aroma of the dish you were making. It made him feel like that this was the reason he was alive.

Husband!salesman who still got flustered when you kiss his cheek. It had quickly become your power move. On the rare occasion where you disagreed upon something, you would simply kiss his cheek and watch him fumble with his words. It was the most adorable thing ever.

Husband!salesman who would kiss and bite your neck every chance he got. He loved the fact that he could attack your neck any time he wanted.

Husband!salesman who loved when you asked him to pick you up after work. He waited for the moment you would come running and jump to hug him tight.

Husband!salesman who always noticed every single detail. Like the time he caught a man making you uncomfortable while walking. He did exactly what the man deserved; beat him till his teeth were bloody and carved his fingers out from their socket, for ever daring to make his wife feel unsafe.

Husband!salesman who got jealous easily. He didn’t ask for much, he just wanted every single person with conspicuous intentions towards you to just get hit by a truck on the highway (with him driving the truck preferably).

Husband!salesman who always made sure to support your hobbies! Even if you abandon them after two weeks, he’s proud of you for trying.

Husband!salesman who hated your plushies and teddy bears. He hated how much distance they created between you while sleeping. He would just throw them to the floor when you weren’t looking.

Husband!salesman who doesn’t like getting his shirt bloody because “My wife chose that for me, its rude of you to bleed on my clothes.”

Husband!salesman who says I love you like it’s the air he needs for breathing. He would find every reason to squeeze your hands thrice.

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mangostarjam · 2 days ago

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you've been touching him a lot since he got back.

itoshi sae doesn't do anything about it — doesn't dissuade you from tugging at his sleeve or sliding his jacket zipper back and forth while you talk. doesn't comment or bring your attention to it.

but he watches.

you've been around him a lot since his plane landed, making up for all the time he's spent abroad, as if your daily chat threads haven't been enough. most of the time it's just the two of you, the way it used to be. sometimes his brother is around, though thankfully it doesn't seem like you've gotten any closer to rin since sae left.

other times there's a group, mostly your friends, a mix of guys and girls who don't seem to know what to do with themselves around him. sae is used to this — fame brings strange things to light — but you treat him as you always have, except for the touching.

you don't touch anyone else.

it makes him think.

sae has his reasons. he's never let your relationship get past that line, drawn in the sand. he's a professional football player on the other side of the world, and you have a life here. you have friends (even though you still call him your best friend), you have a job (that you complain about all the time), you have family (that can't be bothered to ever congratulate you on anything).

it wouldn't be right — to make you leave. to take you away. not when he needs to focus on being the best in the world.

(he is the best in the world. all those years ago he showed the U-20 team in japan the difference between them, the way the most they could hope for was dating a gravure model. sae never cared about that aspect. he already had you.)

he lets you touch him, but he doesn't touch you back. he keeps you at arm's length — where you're safe.

and then you ask him to be your wingman.

someone else — touching you? kissing you? having you? unthinkable. sae steps out of the shower and barely dries off before pulling on his briefs and pants. steps into his room and there you are, sitting on his bed, looking good, if a little sad.

he considers telling you to get your passport updated and catches the way your eyes trail down his form. maybe this conversation would be easier if he's wearing a shirt — your gaze is too heated, too distracting. you probably think you're being sneaky, hiding your feelings as best as you can, but sae knows you.

and your casual touches are ocean waves washing that line in the sand away.

sae walks towards his closet when it happens again. your finger in his belt loop, stopping him in his tracks. "what?"

"you were ignoring me," you say. "i asked if my outfit is okay."

your outfit is more than okay. "i would have told you to change if it wasn't."

"if you're going to be my wingman, shouldn't you hype me up?" you huff.

sae feels his jaw clench at the reminder. "no," he says, and his tone comes out cold. you don't seem to notice, falling back on his bed and testing every bit of self control in his grasp. "this is a waste of time."

he goes to pull on a shirt before he does something drastic. you're saying something, but it hardly matters when his flight leaves if you'll be on the plane with him. you've covered your eyes with your forearm, so you miss the way he pauses at the foot of the bed, teal eyes drinking in your form splayed out so defenselessly.

sae climbs over you silently, knees nudging yours apart, hands planted on either side of your body. "this is a waste of time," he repeats, watching with amusement as you take in his position. a blush sweeps across your face, but you don't push him off. that's a good sign, at least.

"what, you think i'm not worth being a wingman for?" you ask. silly. you have no idea.

and then you reach for his belt loops again, as if that's a totally normal thing to do and not something that drives him a little nuts every time. sae prides himself on his control, though, so he doesn't lean down to kiss you just yet.

"tell me," sae says, "have you become this touchy with all your friends since i've been gone?"

"n-no?"

it's cute, how wide your eyes get. sae leans down a little closer. feels your breaths on his lips. still doesn't kiss you — yet. "then i won't be your wingman. you don't need one."

"why not?"

do you know how breathless you sound? sae considers his apartment in spain, how he'll need to make sure the bedroom doesn't share any walls with the neighbors. the way you sound is all for him and him alone.

"because you have a boyfriend, now."

(companion piece to this)

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #fuji writes fic #idk man idk #i wanted to get into his head and idk!!!#lmk if this needs other tag warnings

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strange-aeons · 18 hours ago

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hi strange i’ve been enjoying yr videos for about four years thank u for giving me giggles for so long. however i am writing as i am not totally sure who else to ask…

my boyfriend had a traumatic pneumothorax last week and about 80% of his right lung collapsed. i don’t really know anything about pneumothorax (although i have learned so much recently lol) aside from hearing you mention it and as such i don’t know how to help him :(

i know it’s a shot in the dark but i was wondering if there are any comforts or ways to alleviate pain you could share? thank you so much strange you are super tough btw to have gone through this several times this Sucks big time

many good wishes to you and your sweet hairless babies in the new year!

If it happened one week ago he’s already gotten through the worst part! I’m assuming he’s still hospitalized with a chest tube in right now??

When I was in that situation it helped a lot having frequent visits from my partner and family. Especially when they brought snacks!!!!!! Hospital meals can be borderline inedible and there’s no way of escaping to the food court when you have a chest tube in (unless you plan to deceive multiple nurses and risk life threatening infection through the OPEN HOLE IN YOUR CHEST. Don’t do that).

Good food can be a relief in an otherwise horrible time, so finding out what he really wants to eat and brining it will definitely help. If he has no appetite then things like smoothies or drinkable soup can be very helpful. I often live off booster juice and Tim Hortona chicken noodle soup when hospitalized.

Finding the right media to keep sane is also very important!!! Your sleep schedule disintegrates entirely when laying on your back full of tube for multiple days. 2AM listening to alarms go off and 6AM getting woken up for x-rays and 1pm having the lunch slop delivered and 3pm being woken up for x-rays and 9pm visit from your surgeon all become basically indistinguishable, especially if you have no windows. Podcasts were ideal for me because it can be very hard to find a comfortable position with a chest tube / pneumothorax and looking at a screen was often too much of a hassle. Queer as fact and fall of civilizations are both excellent if you want non fiction btw. Old gods of Appalachia or welcome to nightvale if you want fiction.

There’s not a lot that you as a loved one can do about his physical pain, but I will share some of my pneumothorax expertise with you and anyone else who might go through this.

There’s no nerve endings in the lungs so all the pain/ discomfort related to a pneumothorax has to do with pressure in the chest cavity.

The pain is the absolute worst when your lung is actively collapsing so when that feeling starts SHOVE SOME EXTRA STRENGTH ADVIL OR TYLENOL DOWN YOUR THROAT, then lay down and wait for it to finish collapsing. It may seem tempting to rush to the hospital as fast as possible (or rush your loved one who’s lung is collapsing to the hospital) but trust me the last thing you want to do with a lung that is actively deflating like a sad balloon is exert yourself (this is how I collapsed my lung the full 100% and could not move my upper body for an hour. Quirky). Give it at least 30 minutes of floor time before you try to move. You will have a way better time getting to the hospital.

Wait sorry I lied lung re-inflation hurts sometimes more than the initial collapse. The sometimes are the times when ER nurses do not know how to do it properly. Immediately after they put the chest tube in, they attach it to a suction machine to suck out the excess air in your chest cavity. I do not know if these machines are the same internationally (I’m Canadian) but if you’re dealing with one where the settings are percentages, the one you want is 20% suction. NOT 100%!!! that just causes unnecessary excruciating pain without being more effective. I have had to fight numerous nurses while in the worst pain of my life to TURN THE PAIN MACHINE DOWN. fuck the pain machine. Anyway. After the pain machine they leave the tube in for a few more days to make sure the lung stays inflated. Nearing the end of that process, most of the discomfort is caused by the tube itself, so as horrible disgusting the worst getting that thing ripped out is, just know you will feel so much better after.

Throughout the healing process (and in the case of small pneumothoraxes not requiring chest tubes — I’ve had over 10 of those ones) I’ve noticed that heightened discomfort lasting a few minutes results from going from laying down to standing up or vice verse, or from bending over. This is why I have pioneered the sophisticated technique know as the pneumothorax squat. It is just as cool and hot as you’re imagining.

This post was supposed to be about how to support a loved one with a pneumothorax what the heck am I even talking about now.

Most of what he’s going to need will seem boring or insignificant. Companionship. Food. Medication. Toiletries. COMPANIONSHIP. podcast recommendations. But it absolutely is not insignificant. Abruptly losing mobility, independence, and bodily autonomy as a young person is really fucked up and I cannot fathom doing it without my family and my partner, even if most days that consisted of talking to me and bringing me smoothies and underwear.

Wishing a quick recovery to your boyfriend! Good luck with everything!!

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aureatelys · 3 days ago

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nobody does it like you do

pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner/fem!reader rating: explicit w.c.: 10k.... a/n: dbf!hotch party ended months ago but im still here

summary:

You don't mean to start something with your dad's best friend during your summer break.

c.w.: 18+ MDNI PLSSSS, dbf!hotch yippee, no y/n, reader is mid-20s and hotch is mid 40s, reader is kind of a brat and also very sexual and forward :), car sex, handjobs in car, v fingering, dom/sub, dirty talk, light degradation kink, size kink if u squint, light choking at the end!, unprotected sex, tbh some plot to mostly porn

read below or on ao3 here <3

You’re nearly half-naked when you first meet him.

It was the first morning back at home during your summer break in your first year of your Master’s program. You hadn’t been home in several months, blaming your rigorous coursework and the full-time job you had, but luckily you were able to use nearly a month’s worth of PTO to coincide with your summer off.

You had gotten in late after flying across the country, but your body still woke up like clockwork just before 9 am.

Currently, as you make eye contact with the tallest and most attractive man you have ever met while wearing a tank top and shorts that barely covered your ass, you couldn’t tell if that was a blessing or a curse.

You had heard your dad rave about what basically sounded like a crush he had over the phone for nearly a year. Aaron Hotchner apparently works with your father at the FBI, albeit in a different department, and they hit it off at a recent gala by discussing golf, expensive scotch, and being annoyed about the latest budget cuts. One Saturday at the country club’s golf course later, your father was hooked, and Aaron has been over at the house nearly every weekend since.

You remember your dad saying something about how he’s hardworking, better than he is at golf, and much nicer than he looks. He didn’t say anything about how hot he was.

You were stumbling out your bedroom and rubbing at your eyes when you had nearly run into him on the way to the bathroom. You’re still waking up, but you see the genuine surprise and something like want on his face before it’s gone, a neutral expression taking over his handsome features. The clench in his jaw betrays him.

“Excuse me,” he says. His voice is low, deep in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “I was just heading into the restroom.”

You blink at him, your mind still not having not caught up yet. “Uhm.”

“I can just go to the one downstairs,” he says, giving you an easy smile. It makes him look even more devastatingly attractive and you feel dazed. With that, he turns on his heel and makes his way back downstairs without another word.

You distantly hear your father downstairs calling your name and asking if you’re awake. You feel rooted to the spot, flustered.

You try your best to go through your normal bathroom routine, but your heart still hasn’t calmed down yet. It’s been a while since you’ve dated and even longer since you’ve slept with someone, thus you’ve had a lot of quality time with yourself recently, so seeing the way this older man reacted to you was enough to have you preening a bit. You weren’t imagining it, right?

You tell yourself that you’re feeling lazy after a long day of traveling and not wanting to change yet as you head downstairs into the kitchen, absolutely not hiking your shorts up a little and shimmying your tank top down.

“Good morning,” you chirp as you step into the kitchen. Your dad is already sitting at the dining table, most likely finishing his second cup of coffee, and his face lights up when he sees you as if he wasn’t the one to pick you up from the airport late last night. Aaron is standing in the kitchen next to the coffee machine, pouring into a travel mug.

You ignore the way you can feel Aaron’s dark eyes rove over you; the top of your breasts nearly threatening to spill out, your hard nipples poking through your top, and the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath your shorts.

“Morning, pumpkin,” your dad says cheerily, clearly oblivious to what’s going on between his friend and his own daughter. “This is Aaron, he works at the Bureau with me, I told you about him?”

You vaguely remember when you stalked through his Facebook profile several months ago after your father was tagged with him multiple times. The pictures of him were always blurry, never giving you anything to go off of.

As you stand next to him in the kitchen and crane your neck up to look at him, you realize the pictures really don’t do him justice. He’s handsome, almost boy-ish with the way his hair is clean and not gelled down like in the pictures, flopping in front of his forehead. He’s wearing a tight red polo, showcasing his broad shoulders and forearms in a way that makes you want to drool a bit. His brow is pinched, jaw tense, and you almost think you can hear his teeth grinding when he attempts to keep his eyes on your face and not on your chest.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hotchner,” you say, giving him an innocent smile. You ignore the mug your dad must have left on the counter for you and stand up on your tiptoes to retrieve one from the overhead cupboard.

You feel a rush of exhilaration when you hear Aaron suck in a breath at the way your tank top hikes up your stomach. When you turn back to him, because he is technically in the way of the coffee machine, you catch the way his eyes sharpen and the way his hand grasps at the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white.

And then it’s gone, just like earlier, replaced with something almost professional, probably the same expression he makes when something ticks him off at work.

Interesting.

“Aaron is fine,” he says, stepping out of the way of the coffee machine and then holds his hand out for you to shake.

You can feel your dad watching you, so you make an effort to tone it down a bit. You put your hand in his, swallowing when you notice just how large his hands are and the way he grips you a bit tighter than what would be considered professional. When you look back up at him, there’s something almost like a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Nice to meet you, Aaron,” you repeat. It’s worth it to see a smile grace his face, replacing that smirk, and causing something fuzzy settle in your chest.

When he lets go and makes his way to sit across your dad at the table, you ignore how your hand suddenly feels like it’s burning.

“We’re about to head to the golf course here in a couple of minutes if you wanted to join?” your dad asks as you pour your coffee and sit down at the head of the table.

You hum and experimentally kick your feet out in Aaron’s direction to where he sits to your left. You make contact with his knee, and you watch almost gleefully as Aaron just barely jumps in his seat. He doesn’t make eye contact with you, just quietly sips at his coffee. It really shouldn’t turn you on the way it does. “I’m okay, I was just planning on hanging out here and catch up on my shows.”

“You sure, pumpkin? I know it’s been a while since you were out on the course but…”

“I think that’s exactly why I shouldn’t come with you,” you laugh. You pull your chair up closer to the table, making it look like you were just trying to get comfortable, when really you just wanted to cop more of a feel of Aaron’s thighs.

“Alright, alright,” your father says, putting his hands up in defeat. “But don’t forget about the retreat later this week with the guys.”

You pause from where you were just about to dig your toes underneath his thigh. “Retreat?”

“I told you about it when I picked you up last night!”

“I think you forgot that you picked me up at one in the morning and I was half-asleep in the car,” you roll your eyes. “But of course I’ll go with you.”

“Great!” Your dad says with that big smile on his face that always makes you feel nostalgic. You don’t really want to go, was honestly just planning on relaxing at home, but if it makes your dad happy and you get to spend more time with him, then you’ll do almost anything.

And if Aaron’s coming too, then well…

Your dad gets up to put his mug in the sink and starts making his way out of the dining room. “You ready to go, Hotchner?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Aaron says, a barely detectable rasp to his voice that has you hiding a smile in your mug.

You’re about to put your foot down when you feel thick fingers circling your ankle and lifting your leg up until your ankle is resting on Aaron’s knee. You nearly squeak in surprise, but the look on Aaron’s face stops you.

He would look calm, composed even, if you didn’t pay attention to the way his eyes have darkened. His brow is pinched, lips pressed into a thin line, as he tightens his grip on your ankle and asks in a low voice “What kind of game are you playing here?”

Not expecting confrontation, you don’t know what to say. Your breath gets stuck in your chest, something about the glare he’s giving you keeps you rooted in your chair.

Because there’s really only two options here. He’s your dad’s best friend, at least 20 years older than you, and you really have no business in sexually riling up this guy you’ve never met before until today. You can apologize, give him a genuine and friendly smile, and go back to your room and pretend this never happened and you weren’t just throwing yourself at some hot older man.

But there’s something about Aaron that you can’t quite put your finger on. You wonder what it would be like to see him without those walls he undoubtedly keeps up all the time, see him come undone. You can tell from his Facebook pictures that he’s a bigshot of some kind, always wearing a fitted suit and not a hair out of place. You can see that now, in his pressed polo and matching belt, that he likes control, his skin nearly thrumming with it. And that’s something you’ve always enjoyed playing with.

You noticed the lack of a wedding ring on his finger, and the way he’s gazing into you now. The hot trail his hand leaves behind as he starts running up your shin, past your knee, and grip at the meat of your thigh says all you need to know.

“What game?” you say, innocently. You even play it up a bit by batting your lashes at him.

His grip on your thigh tightens, and it feels so good, and it’s been so long, you resist rolling your eyes back and instead spread your legs just a bit underneath the table.

“Your father didn’t tell me you were such a brat,” he mutters.

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him,” you say, hoping you don’t sound as out of breath as you feel.

Aaron doesn’t say anything at that, just hums thoughtfully. You don’t have a chance to backpedal, redirect the conversation if you were reading the whole situation wrong, before he’s placing your leg back on the floor with a gentle hand on your ankle and getting up.

“We can talk more about what you want to do after school later,” he says, raising his voice a bit in an effort to appear like he wasn’t just groping you underneath the table.

You almost don’t hear what he says because your gaze is fixed on the obvious tent in his khakis. Your mouth nearly waters, and just knowing that you’re having the same kind of effect on him as he has on you has heat pooling between your thighs.

You shake your head, resisting the thoughts of throwing yourself on your knees in front of him and taking him in your mouth right in the dining room. You grin up at him and, in an impulsive decision that you’re secretly proud of, you reach over to put a hand on his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.

“Absolutely, Mr. Hotchner.”

Your smile grows wider at the stormy glare he gives you before he heads out of the dining room, imperceptibly adjusting himself in his pants. Your eyes follow him out, cheeks nearly starting to hurt from how hard you’re smiling because damn, does his ass look good.

It’s your summer vacation, you may as well have some fun, right?

Since then, you’ve barely seen Aaron.

You had made Aaron and your father sandwiches, knowing they’d be home by the afternoon. You tried not to let the fact that you were upset, disappointed even, show on your face when your dad came home by himself and told you that Aaron got called for a case.

You knew from your dad that this was a normal occurrence for Aaron and that they’ve both gotten used to it. So many times there would be a gala or a party at the house and he would be called away to chase down a murderer or a rapist or a combination of the two.

You tried not to let it get to you, because seriously, you just met him, but also, it’s not like he owes you anything. But you really hoped that he wouldn’t miss the retreat later that week. Just imagining spending time with him in your lone hotel room was enough to make you dizzy.

So, you distracted yourself. You caught up on your emails, watched those shows that had been piling up in your watch later list, and spent time with your dad at the golf course or whatever else he wanted to do that day. It was nice spending your summer vacation with your dad and catching up on what he does at his boring administrative job and the lack of both of your love lives.

By the time Friday rolled around, there was still nothing but radio silence from Aaron, at least you assumed since your dad hadn’t mentioned him. You almost wish you had asked for his phone number before he left, but it wouldn’t have done you any good to waste a whole week sitting by your cellphone, waiting for a probably dry text from some guy.

A really hot, older guy that definitely has control issues and could toss you around like a ragdoll.

You’re throwing your bag in your car’s backseat and was about to admit defeat, that maybe he really wasn’t going to make it, when a black Range Rover comes skidding down your street and into your driveway.

“There he is,” your dad said in a sing-song voice, sounding about as giddy as you felt.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see him stepping out of his car, because how the hell is it possible for a man to look so attractive doing something so mundane?

And then your eyes nearly bug out because he has his suit jacket hanging from his arm, a duffel bag in the other, and is wearing a white dress shirt so tight that you could see the bulge of his biceps and the softness of his stomach.

“Sorry I’m late,” Aaron says, jogging up to where you and father were. “We just got back a couple hours ago.”

He looks at you then with those pretty brown eyes, looking genuinely apologetic, and the disappointment that you were afraid was going to take a permanent place in your chest gently unravels.

“It’s no problem, Hotch,” your dad waves him off. “We’re still waiting for some of the other guys, so you made it just in time.”

“Great,” Aaron breathes in relief. “I’m going to go change then, I’ll be right back.” His eyes flit towards you again, and you would’ve missed it if you weren’t still staring at him. They’re piercing, undoubtedly beckoning you to follow him, and there’s a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth.

You feel a rush of excitement shooting through you as you watch him head towards the front door, eyes fixated on his hips. There was no clearer sign than that one, though you try not to roll your eyes fondly at the fact that your dad evidently did not notice as he goes back to playing Tetris with his bags in the trunk.

You wait a couple of minutes, pretending to play on your phone, and then exclaim “Oops, I almost forgot my phone charger! I’m going to run upstairs and get it.”

Your dad just gives an “Okie dokie, sweetie,” and then his phone rings with who you assume is one of his friends you’re waiting for.

You try to not sprint to the front door, instead taking a deep breath and walking in what you hope looks like a normal pace. However, as soon as the front door clicked shut, you run up the stairs, hoping Aaron chose your bathroom rather than the one downstairs.

Not spotting him waiting outside the bathroom, your heart nearly drops out from underneath you, however you notice the closed door and the soft golden light from underneath telling you that you were right.

You were right and maybe you weren’t imagining things. He knew you would listen to his unspoken instructions and follow him. You weren’t a profiler like him, not an expert at studying other people’s body language, but there was nothing fake about the fact that he got hard at your dining room table and you had only known each other for 10 minutes that Sunday.

The click of the door opening disrupts your thoughts. You’re about to grin up at Aaron, say something cute like how you’ve missed him or something more playful like asking why he hasn’t called you.

But you don’t get the chance because you’re suddenly being pressed up against the wall, warm hands on your hips, and Aaron’s soft mouth pressing into yours.

He swallows your gasp, his fingers inching up the hem of your tank top to touch the skin of your waist and kisses the life out of you. His lips are chapped and he tastes fresh, like he had a breath mint on the drive here, and the thought that he had that foresight just for you makes your knees weak.

He kisses you deeply, not even bothering to start gentle like so many other boys have tried before, and it’s overwhelming and not enough at the same time. You’re helpless to kiss back, your body finally catching up, and your hands come up to tangle at the soft strands at the nape of his neck.

He hums against your lips at that, his hands starting to move underneath your shirt to trace the swell of your breasts through your bra. It tickles, and you squirm a little and huff a laugh against his mouth before you can help it.

Before you could apologize and tell him to stop tickling you, his hands press your hips harder against the wall and his lips break away from yours. You attempt to chase him, because you were definitely not done making out, when Aaron tuts at you.

“Behave,” he warns lowly, but he has a full-blown smirk now. His eyes are dark, pupils blown, and his lips red and glistening. He looks so unbearingly sexy when he’s reprimanding you, he just makes it so easy for you to tease him.

“Or what?” You ask, smiling up at him. You watch as his smirk falters, brows furrowing, and something like frustration and exasperation blooms on his face.

“You’re ridiculous,” Aaron breathed, before he’s leaning in and pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down your neck. He scrapes his teeth against the spot where your shoulder and neck meets and your knees actually buckle this time, something like a strangled moan coming out of your mouth and catching you by surprise. “Looks like you do know how to watch that mouth of yours.”

Any snarky comeback you have dies in your throat because you did not expect Aaron to have that kind of dirty mouth on him. Molten heat starts to pool at the bottom of your stomach, between your thighs, as he slips the strap of your tank top down your shoulder to trace your collarbone with his lips.

“Aaron…,” you whisper, letting your hands fall from his nape to grab at his shoulders, trail down to grope at his biceps. The sleek muscle you can feel even through the fabric of his polo that he changed into, tensing and flexing as he pushes at you, sends your mind reeling.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he mutters against your shoulder, his warm breath and the pet name making you feel paralyzed. “Cat got your tongue?”

Your eyes roll back as you feel him biting a mark onto your chest, right underneath your collarbone, the pain and pleasure tingling all the way down to your cunt. You say something unintelligible, brain feeling muddled, because holy shit.

“Hey pumpkin, did your find your charger? We have to get moving!” You hear your dad’s voice from downstairs and barely swallow back a gasp before Aaron’s hand is pressed over your mouth to quiet you. You hate that that does absolutely nothing to help the growing arousal between your thighs.

Aaron’s eyes meet yours. His eyes have gotten impossibly darker, soft hair falling against his forehead. The wild desire and excitement are clear on his face, but he raises his eyebrows at you to signal you to behave before he lifts his palm off your face.

“Coming!” you yell back at him, hoping the strain in your voice isn’t as obvious to him as it is to you.

Aaron hums, something smug playing at his lips. “Maybe later.”

And it’s ridiculous. Aaron Hotchner, stoic Unit Chief of an FBI unit, best friend of your dad, and 20 years older than you just made out with you so hard that your knees buckled and made a joke about making you come?

You huff a laugh, pushing at his shoulder so you can wriggle out of his grip. He lets go immediately, stepping back to give you several feet of space, and you try not to think about how you already miss the heat and weight of his body against yours.

You’re about to run downstairs, an excuse about realizing you already packed your charger on the tip of your tongue, when Aaron is circling his fingers around your wrist. You look back at him curiously, because as much as you want to, there definitely isn’t time for him to ravage you in your bedroom.

He looks much more composed now, more like his professional SSA Aaron Hotchner self, but you catch the way his eyes linger on the way your shorts ride up high and the soft expanse of your thighs. “I’m serious. We’ll finish this later.”

And it’s the way he doesn’t pose it as a question, but rather a guarantee. Like nothing is going to stop him from having his way with you.

The thought of being completely at Aaron’s mercy has you breathless, feeling a flush rise on your face and your pulse between your legs. He has you stunned speechless, because you’ve never been with someone who has made you feel complete and utter want. You look at him now, chest imperceptibly heaving and making that olive green polo tug across the wide expanse of his chest, you realize that he may just ruin other people for you completely.

Your throat clicks when you clear it, and you only feel a little embarrassed when Aaron doesn’t hide his smirk at you. All words have died in your throat, so you nod instead, hoping that he will take that as an answer.

If possible, Aaron looks even more smug at that.

“Good girl.”

The drive to the hotel where the retreat is being held is only 2 hours away, which would’ve been perfectly easy, if you weren’t stuck in the car with Aaron.

You were planning on driving your own car with the top down, wind in your hair, and music blasting. You wanted to spend at least part of your summer vacation doing girly summery things, such as driving into the night with your hair whipping your face and feeling the humidity making your tank top stick to your back.

You also thought you would have time to yourself to think about Aaron and what the hell you got yourself into.

Instead, because you can’t tell if the universe loves or hates you, you have to take Aaron’s Range Rover because everyone else’s cars are packed full, and your dad wouldn’t let you drive by yourself. You tried not to show the excitement bloom on your face when your dad told you, but by the pointed look that Aaron gave you, you didn’t do a very good job.

So, it’s just you, Aaron, and the incredibly tangible sexual tension between you.

The first 30 minutes was easy. It took a while for everyone to find the correct route and there was a lengthy discussion over the phone about whether anyone wanted to stop anywhere for any reason. Eventually, you and at least 4 other similarly lavish cars made it onto the highway.

Aaron was silent for most of the phone call, saying that he didn’t have anywhere he wanted to stop at, and was just looking forward to the fancy clawfoot tub the hotel advertised on their website. You threw a glance at him at that, wondering if he was trying to tell you that he wanted to fuck in the bathtub, but nope. His eyes were firmly on the road, both arms on the steering wheel like a responsible adult or whatever.

You weren’t sure how he was able to act like nothing happened—like you weren’t about to let him just fuck you up against the wall in your childhood home, because currently, you felt like you were about to jump out of your skin from the nervous energy thrumming through you.

You fully ogle him now since it’s not like you have anything to hide. Even his side profile is attractive, but at this point you’re not surprised. Everything you’ve been noticing about him has been steadily driving you wild; the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint traces of stubble, and the way his hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white.

You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he deadpans “You’re staring.”

You grin at him before you could help it. “It’s not my fault you’re so handsome. They should study you in art classes, maybe you can even get naked for it?”

The snort that comes out of Aaron’s mouth is sudden, and by the way his eyebrows pinch together like he’s thinking hard, he notices as well. “You really are insatiable.”

“You say that like we’ve even done anything yet,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, turning your head to the window to stare at the sun setting. It would be nighttime by the time you got to the hotel, but you’re already sleepy and debating taking a nap while Aaron drives.

You jump when you feel his hand on your thigh, large and warm. You’ve had other men put their hand on your thigh while they drive and it’s nice, maybe even comforting at times, but with Aaron, the action feels darker. It feels more possessive, heated, and just the sight of his huge hand squeezing the flesh of your thigh has you unconsciously squeezing your legs, trapping the tips of his fingers between them.

“Can you behave?” he wondered out loud. “Because you’re not showing me that you can until we get to the hotel.”

The challenge is clear in the deep timbre of his voice, nearly condescending in a way that makes your breath quicken. You vaguely thought about what he had planned for you at the hotel, luckily you had a whole room to yourself since none of your dad’s friends’ daughters wanted to come. You don’t necessarily blame them—you probably wouldn’t have come either if it weren’t for Aaron and the undoubtable promise that you will have the best sex of your life.

And you do want to wait, honestly. But right now, watching the way his biceps flex in the golden light and remembering the way he desperately grabbed at your hips has you rethinking.

So, you give him an innocent smile, reminiscent of the one you gave him earlier this week, and take a hold of his hand to intertwine your fingers together. The action is slightly risky, implying something about your relationship that neither have you discussed. You may be overthinking it, worried that Aaron would think you’re jumping to conclusions, but all of your reservations disappear when Aaron’s hand squeezes yours and brings your joined hands to rest in his lap.

He gives you a soft smile, one you’ve never seen before that makes your chest tighten, and turns his gaze back on the road.

The following 10 minutes are quiet besides the soft roar of the engine and the gentle hum of the radio. The sun setting washes the interior of the car with a warm gold, and you can’t help but notice the way both of your hands, still clasped together, just look so good together. Like you perfectly complemented each other.

You blame it on the fact that you’re starting to get bored when you wiggle your hand to free yourself from Aaron’s grasp to run your fingers along the top of his hands. You trace each knuckle before tracking the visible veins with a light touch, your fingers running up his wrist and to his forearm. The dusting of hair is soothing when you place a firmer hand onto his forearm, gripping it, and your heart thuds in your chest when you notice your thumb and middle finger can’t even touch each other.

He's just so big. His arms, his hands, his shoulders. The way he can so easily overpower you, manhandle you, domineering in a way that makes you want to act out even more just to see what he would do.

He throws you a curious glance when your hand moves up to his bicep, squeezing and feeling.

“Just touching,” you say, and then Aaron’s eyes are back on the road.

The next thing you do is completely spontaneous, out of character for you even, however you know being impulsive is what got you here in the first place.

You place your hand on his crotch.

He doesn’t jump because, of course not. If anything, he was expecting it by the way he just gives you another curious look. Your eyes are instantly drawn to the way his tongue flicks out to wet his lips and the sudden clenching of his jaw.

“Still just touching,” you repeat and turn your focus to your phone with your free hand, leaving your other hand in his lap.

You scroll mindlessly through several different apps for a couple minutes, not even reading anything because you’re too stunned with the fact that Aaron didn’t say anything or remind you to be on your best behavior. Your hand is still precariously placed on his crotch, the seam of his jeans warm against the palm of your hand.

You start scrolling more intently now, reading the entirety of at least every other post, before you start tentatively rubbing your fingers on where you can definitely feel the head of his dick through his pants. Aaron inhales sharply, so quietly you almost don’t hear it, and it’s all the permission you need.

You start pressing more firmly, grabbing him through his jeans to the best of your ability and tracing the line of his slowly hardening cock through the rough material. You grope at him, nearly shamelessly now, and it takes all of your willpower to not throw your phone to the backseat and jump into his lap.

Instead, you place your phone at your feet and turn your body towards him. His back is ramrod straight and his hands are grasping at the steering wheel like his life depends on it. If anyone passing by looked through the window, they would just assume that Aaron was one of those extremely attentive drivers. However, up close, you can see the tense line of his jaw, the way his brows are pinched together, and the way he’s attempting to hide the way he’s starting to breathe heavily through slightly parted lips.

It's intoxicating, and you want more.

Your hand begins to move up his zipper to the top button of his jeans. His eyes dart to you then, craning his neck slightly to look at you but also making sure to keep his eyes on the road, as if the road is even that busy.

“You really can’t listen, can you?”

That condescending tone again makes your brain nearly short-circuit. It’s like a dam breaks because suddenly you’re leaning over the console, making your breasts nearly spill out from your tank top, and you want him in your mouth and coming down your throat if it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. “Can I?”

“Can you what, sweetheart? Use your words.”

Christ. “Please, can I suck on your cock?”

He hums nonchalantly, as if you can’t see the way he shifts in his seat or the way he’s hurriedly unbuttoning his jeans with one hand. “’Please?’ Looks like you do have some manners.”

And then he’s taking his cock out and you nearly combust on the spot. He’s not fully hard, but you still want nothing more than to feel him on your tongue.

You’re just about to unbuckle your seatbelt to throw yourself into his lap before he stops you by placing his hand over yours.

“Not your mouth, we don’t want other people to know what a dirty girl you are. Use your hands,” he says, nonchalant again in a way that makes your heart race and the ache between your thighs grow.

Although the idea of being caught with your head in his lap and cock down your throat suddenly sounds extremely appealing in a way you’ve never thought of before, you have no choice but to listen and follow his instructions.

You hesitatingly wrap your hand around him, watching in near fascination at the drop of precum that leaks out. He’s big here too, satisfyingly thick and warm in your hand. You move your hand up to smear the wetness around him and then start a steady rhythm of pumping his cock.

A strangled groan comes out of Aaron eventually, and you watch as he attempts to throw his head back in ecstasy while still watching the road with half-lidded eyes. The wide expanse of his pretty throat tempts you, imagining what it would be like to pepper kisses up to his tense jaw to help him relax.

He’s fully hard now, precum steadily leaking out and coating the palm of your hand. You attempt to vary your actions; twisting on the upstroke, squeezing when you’re at the base, or tracing your thumb against the head of his cock. The loud squelching noise makes you feel embarrassed and hot all at the same time, the way it’s drowning out the radio’s music. Your mouth waters as you watch the head of his dick disappear in your fist, wishing you could taste him or see the sheer bliss on his face as he fucks your mouth.

“You couldn’t even wait to get your hands on me, could you?” Aaron murmured, nearly sneering at you. “I bet if I let you, you would let me pull over and fuck you here on the side of the road.”

You swallow nervously, clenching your thighs and trying to ignore the obvious wetness you can feel in your own panties. You squeeze him harder, enthralled by the feeling of his hot flesh against you, and breathlessly whisper “I would.”

He hisses at that, nearly bucking his hips up to follow your hand. “You would let me fuck you anywhere I want.”

It wasn’t a question, but you still feel compelled to answer. “Yes.”

Just then, Aaron’s phone rings from the phone mount on the dashboard. Dread and something awfully similar to delight prickles at the back of your neck when you notice the caller ID being your father. You’re about to retract your hand until Aaron gives you a look out of the corner of your eye, almost like a glare, before his own hand is hot over yours to keep you there.

“Keep going.”

Before you can think of a snarky remark, Aaron swipes at his phone to answer.

“Hotchner.” Nonchalant, casual, as if he doesn’t have his leaking cock in the hands of his best friend’s daughter.

“Hey Hotch, we’re coming up on a great burger joint here in a couple of miles and I wanted to see if you guys were alright with that? I think we lost you.”

You must have been extremely distracted because you’re just now noticing you can’t see your father’s car ahead of you anymore. There are only a few cars on the highway now after finally passing all the city traffic, now driving through a somewhat rural area. You don’t blame yourself after all, because how often do you find yourself giving handjobs to hot older men in their cars?

“I was actually thinking of pulling over at a rest stop, someone’s not feeling well.” Aaron cranes his neck, raising an eyebrow at you.

Even in the darkness of the summer evening and the sparse streetlights bouncing off the dashboard, the pure and primal desire swimming in his eyes is clear and causes a flush to rise to your face.

“Yeah, it must have been lunch,” you attempt to joke, hoping that the rasp in your voice doesn’t give you away. You feel Aaron’s cock twitch in your hand.

Your dad hums through the tinny speakers. “Yeah, you don’t sound so good.”

You notice the car slowing down, not realizing that you were pulling up to a secluded area of a rest stop, right underneath a tree. You glance out the window and take in the fact that the nearest car is over 10 spots away and the closest streetlight is burnt out. You think of the discreet dark color of the car and the tinted windows. Anticipation curls at the bottom of your stomach.

“We’ll let you know when we’re back on the road.” And then Aaron immediately hangs up, parks the car, and leans over the console to kiss you with a hand cradling your cheek.

He cuts to the chase again, kissing you so deeply that your head spins. His mouth is soft but he’s assertive even like this. His hand moves to the back of your neck, taking a hold of you, and your mouth opens in a moan before you can stop yourself, allowing Aaron’s tongue to brush against yours.

When he pulls back, something like a needy whine erupts from your throat. You don’t realize that your hands moved to grasp at his polo, leaving Aaron’s cock free and pressed against his stomach.

“You drive me crazy,” Aaron mutters, brushing a lock of hair behind your head. His gesture and words are impossibly soft, a complete contrast to how he was kissing you, making your breath stutter in your chest.

“You drive me crazy,” you whisper breathily. “Please fuck me?”

He huffs a laugh at that, something you’re slowly starting to become familiar with, and tightens his hold on the back of your neck. There’s nothing soft in his eyes anymore. “Get in the back, now.”

You scramble to get out of the car, legs nearly shaking. The summer humidity is cloying, suffocating, and you rush to open the door to crawl in the backseat.

The seats are just as large and plush as up front, however there’s definitely more foot room that you’re sure Aaron will appreciate. You’re waiting in the middle seat, legs tucked underneath you, as you watch Aaron tuck himself back into his jeans and step out of the car with an air of nonchalance that somehow makes him even more attractive.

When he opens the door to climb into the back, your eyes meet and you suddenly feel frozen to the spot, because he starts to encroach into your space, nearly predatory. There’s a glint in his eyes as he places his hand on your back, lowering you so you’re laying on the seats. You unconsciously spread your legs so he could situate himself between them, and the feeling of his large and warm body between your thighs has you hitching them up on his hips.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been thinking about this,” Aaron murmurs before ducking his head to press his mouth against your jawline, down your neck, and finally finally sucking a mark where your shoulder meets.

You exhale a shaky moan, bringing your hands up to run down his back and feel how wide his shoulders are and how you can feel his muscles tense as he moves. The wet heat of his mouth, his obscenely large hands on your hips, and the way his figure nearly engulfs you is mesmerizing.

He pulls back to take a look at you, thumb coming up to press into the mark he made and putting light pressure against your neck. There’s something wild and possessive in his eyes, his lips parted like he can’t believe what’s happening. “There you go. Now you’ll remember who you belong to.”

It feels like your breath is knocked out of you and replaced with something equally possessive. “Are you going to fuck me or what?”

Something dark passes over his face. “And here I thought you were going to behave.”

Before you could say anything, Aaron is swiftly lifting your tank top up and over your head, throwing it somewhere towards the passenger seat, and groping your tits. He thumbs at your nipples, watching in awe as you arch your back and push your chest further into his hands. The sudden sensation, pleasure zinging up your spine, after being teased for an entire week is dizzying and you want to drown in it.

“You’re so needy for it, aren’t you?” Aaron says, casually, as he pinches at your nipples. You choke on your moan, the initial sting melting into pleasure that makes you feel drunk. “You’re practically begging for my cock.”

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out. Your hands scramble at his shoulders, running up to tangle the soft hairs at the nape of his neck between your fingers. “I need your cock inside me.”

He leans down to suck one of your nipples in his mouth, deft fingers continuing on the other. His mouth is so deliciously wet and hot, expertly licking around you in a way that’s slowly unraveling you, and you shiver when you think about where else his mouth can be of use. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head and you cant your hips up desperately in an effort to gain some sort of friction against the nearly overbearing ache between your thighs.

His hands come down to press your hips down in an effort to make you stop squirming and you feel him shift until his knee is pressing between your legs and against your pussy through your shorts. The feeling of his warm hands on you and the seam of your shorts rubbing against your clit causes an embarrassingly high-pitched whine to escape your throat.

“You’re teasing me,” you pant, tugging at his hair experimentally.

Another raspy groan erupts from Aaron and, if possible, you feel hotter. His mouth detaches from your nipple and you instantly miss the hot heat of his mouth, until he says “And what if I want to taste that pretty little cunt of yours?”

Imagining Aaron pressing open-mouthed kisses against your thighs, breathing hotly against your panties until he’s pressing his tongue against you, smearing even more wetness around until you’re nearly dripping onto the expensive upholstery has you whimpering. Your mind races as you imagine him pulling your panties aside so he can press his soft mouth against you, licking and lapping at your pussy like you’re a five-course meal, sucking on your clit until you’re screaming his name and begging him to stop.

No words come out, mind nearly melted just at the thought of Aaron looking up at you from between your thighs and his mouth on your cunt. Instead, you let out a breathless moan and attempt to grind down against Aaron’s knee, chasing the little stimulation you can get.

Aaron licks his lips as he watches you, eyes dark and predatory. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” His thumbs briefly traces your hips, and you nearly miss the tender touch, before he’s hooking them into the waistband of your shorts and tugs them down. “But we don’t have time for that, so I’m just going to fuck that needy pussy of yours.”

It took quite a bit of wriggling and Aaron hitting his head against the roof of the car to get your shorts and panties off of you, and you’re about to joke that this was an exercise in of itself, until Aaron is settling back between your legs with his own legs crammed underneath him. You suddenly realize Aaron is still wearing all of his clothes, polo wrinkled and pants hanging loosely at his hips, while you’re completely naked and vulnerable, desperate and needy like he said.

His fingers dance across the soft expanse of your thighs until he presses a finger against you, so close to where you need him. You breathe unsteadily and have to close your eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, when Aaron gently grazes between your folds. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, honey. Is this all for me?”

You nod rapidly and push your hips down in an effort to tell him to hurry the fuck up.

Aaron tuts at you. “What did I say about using your words?” And then he’s forgoing your clit completely and pressing a thick finger inside.

You gasp, eyes shooting open and meeting his from where he’s watching your face so intently it would’ve been intimidating if you didn’t feel white-hot pleasure take over your body. “Yes, I’m wet, just for you,” you rush out.

He hums, satisfied. “Just for me, right?” He begins thrusting his finger inside of you, and the feeling of being filled and something finally happening has you arching your back against him again, soft whines escaping your mouth before you can help it. The lewd noises from your sopping pussy rings out in the small space of the car, jarring, but it just makes you feel hotter.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble, attempting to rut your hips down to meet his thrusts, steadily growing in pace. Your hand shoots down to take ahold of his forearm, nearly distracted at the veins popping out, when you feel a second finger prodding at you. “Please just fuck me already, I’m ready.”

You watch Aaron’s mouth form what has to be a reprimand, scolding you for being so desperate, but then it closes and forms into something softer even as his gaze is fixated on his thick fingers thrusting in and out of your pussy. He leans in and kisses you before you realize, just a soft press of his lips against yours. When he pulls back, he’s still wearing a faint smile, and tucks a stray strand of your hair behind an ear. It’s all so painstakingly affectionate, you feel at a loss for words again but for a completely different reason you can’t name.

“How can I say no to you?” he mutters, almost to himself, and it shocks you to your core.

He doesn’t wait for a response and pulls out a condom from his back pocket. You watch as he’s about to tear the foil packet open, thoughts turning over and over in your head, before you exclaim “It’s fine, I’m on the pill.”

He pauses and stares at you, serious based off the pinch of his brows. “Are you sure? I don’t mind…”

“I’m sure,” you say, throwing your arms around his neck so you can run your fingers through his hair. And you are absolutely sure, confident, because you know the cherry on top of this whole experience would be feeling his cock spill in your pussy and filling you up. “I want to feel you.”

You watch as he groans, closes his eyes, and leans his forehead against yours, staring at the flutter of his long eyelashes. “You are killing me, sweetheart.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “Are you kidding me? I can say the same for you.”

Because if you thought Aaron looked good wearing a suit in those blurry pictures on Facebook, it doesn’t even compare to how he looks now. His polo tightly stretched over his shoulders, slightly disheveled from where you were grabbing onto him, belt unbuckled and pants hanging deliciously half-open from his hips, and hair tousled, the gel maintaining his professional appearance giving way to make him look younger. He’s so unbelievably hot you almost believe you’re dreaming.

You watch as he pushes his jeans and boxers down enough to where his cock pops out, the head a sympathetic dark red from where he must’ve been achingly hard this entire time. Before you make another attempt to have him in your mouth, he’s pushing in, stretching you deliciously open and making you grip harder at the hair at his nape.

“Fuck, you’re still so tight for me,” Aaron grunts, his hands flying to grasp onto your hips.

Although you can feel him sink into you, inch by inch, you’re mesmerized by the sharp focus on his face, the pinch in his brow and eyes clenched shut. As if he’s trying not to throw away all abandon and pound into you, and the thought is so intoxicating it makes your head spin.

“Oh my god,” you mumble. He bottoms out, his cock finally pushed all way in your pussy, and he’s much bigger, thicker, than you realized. It feels so, so good—being filled up with his hard cock, his hips pressing against your thighs as they splay out the way you’ve been dreaming of for the past week.

“You okay?” Aaron asks, gentle again, and before you could answer, he’s pulling back and thrusting back into you.

A gasp wretches out of you and your hands scramble at his back, pulling him down because you need him to be closer, need his large body pushing down on you and making you take him.

He lets you, giving you a mockingly sympathetic look, and leans down to press an open-mouthed kiss against your jawline. He starts a steady rhythm then—thrusting in and out of you and knocking the breath out of you. “You’re going to take my fat cock, baby? I know you’ve been begging for it all week; you need it so bad, don’t you?”

Jesus Christ.

Words escape you again, instead, your mouth hangs open as you attempt to nod in response. Even though the car’s AC was blasting, you were covered in sweat and sliding up the seats with every thrust of Aaron’s hips. You definitely weren’t complaining, probably wouldn’t even be able to because sounds you didn’t even know you were capable of making kept coming out of you, eyes nearly permanently rolled back in your head. It felt so good, you didn’t think fucking could ever feel this good, but Aaron continues to exceed expectations.

You hitch your legs up his hips higher and let out a high-pitched whine at the change in angle, hot pleasure zinging up your spine. Aaron grunts, something dark and masculine that makes you preen, and his hips start snapping harder, faster.

“Look at you,” he murmurs lowly right into your ear. “Being fucked so good you can’t even speak.”

He shifts again, hands hooking underneath your thighs and, with your nod, presses your knees to your chest until they’re next to your ears, legs dangling over his shoulders. You wrap your arms around your thighs, holding them in place, and your eyes nearly roll back into your head when Aaron’s cock slides even deeper into your cunt with a wet sound. He feels heavenly, even despite not having touched your clit at all.

He fucks you relentlessly and you think your brain has melted out of your ears because you just take it. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, the litany of groans and praises that fall from his lips, and your nonstop whimpering gasps is heady. You don’t even care if you can’t come just from him rutting into you alone, it feels too fucking good.

He sits back up, not once breaking his brutal pace, and makes unwaveringly intense eye contact with you. “My beautiful girl takes my cock so well, making such pretty noises. I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my come.”

You really did not expect Aaron to have the dirty mouth he does, but again, you’re not complaining. Instead, you bring one of your arms down to snake between your thighs where you’re absolutely soaked in your combined wetness and sweat to circle your clit. The added stimulation, finally, has your thighs shaking and your pussy clenching around him. You squirm a bit, because his belt buckle has started to dig into you from where his pants are pooling around his knees, but you’re suddenly so close.

“Fuck, Aaron…”

He licks his lips at that, starts to fuck into you faster somehow. He knocks your hand aside to replace with his own and you absolutely mewl when you feel the rough callous of his thumb gently circling your clit, impossibly slow. “Is my good girl going to come? You’re going to come all over my cock, sweetheart?”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, and you can barely detect the strain in Aaron’s voice, like he’s close too. “Yes, yes, please,” you stutter, feeling your gut tighten and sweat breaking out on the back of your neck. “Harder.”

Aaron lets out a shaky laugh. “Since you asked so nicely.”

And then he’s rubbing your clit mercilessly, almost too rough if your nerves weren’t already so close to snapping. You let out a string of strangled whines, your hands coming up to hold onto Aaron’s free arm for dear life. You’re so wet that his fingers just glide over you, the wet noises of him fucking into you getting you hotter, making the coil in your stomach wind tighter, but it’s still not enough.

You watch with half-lidded eyes as Aaron lifts his right hand from where he was definitely leaving bruises on your hip to place at the base of your throat. Your eyes widen but you don’t stop him because the feeling sends your mind spinning, realizing that you have placed so much trust in this man and he’s thoughtful enough to care for you, treasure you, and fuck you so hard he’s definitely ruined you for anyone else.

His eyes are impossibly dark, hair falling into his face, and you meet his gaze unblinkingly as he puts light pressure on your throat. “Come for me.”

You don’t know if it’s the hand on your neck, his cock frantically fucking into you, or the soft baritone of his voice that has you pushing over the edge. You come with a choked gasp of his name, hips and thighs shaking almost uncontrollably. You swear your vision whites out because you don’t think you’ve ever come so hard in your fucking life.

You distantly hear Aaron grunt your name, feel him fuck into you desperately and erratically. He lets go of your throat, you secretly already miss the weight of his hand, and he clutches at your hips as he chases his own orgasm. It doesn’t take long for his hips to stutter, coming into you with a guttural moan that sends a shiver down your back. He grinds his hips into you, like he’s making sure he’s giving you every last drop he has, and the thought has you whimpering.

You stay like that as both of you catch your breath. Your thighs and hips are starting to ache uncomfortably, pussy sore in a way where you know you’ll be feeling it tomorrow, but you watch the way Aaron runs his hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes so he can lean in to kiss you, and it’s all worth it.

He pulls out slowly, dick twitching half-way inside of you when you moan at the empty feeling. You feel his come instantly start to drip out of you and onto the seats, and the dangerous glint in Aaron’s eyes has you squirming, heat licking up your back.

“Are you okay?” he asks, leaning over to open the console and hopefully rummage around for a hidden towel. You hope he doesn’t pull out old and scratchy fast-food napkins like the ones you have crammed in your glove compartment.

You laugh breathlessly, slowly dropping your legs down to dangle a bit more comfortably. “More than okay.”

He comes back with a pouch of wet wipes, slightly used, and you’re surprised at the sudden twinge of jealousy you feel when you imagine why he has wet wipes ready in his car and how many other women he’s fucked in his expensive car.

He’s thorough in cleaning you up, chest rapidly rising and falling as he continues to catch his breath. As if he can read your mind, he looks up at you curiously with no trace of the stern persona he had when he was fucking you mindlessly. You had thought you hid your jealousy well, however you find yourself glaring at the wipes in his hand.

He gives you an achingly sweet smile, a surprise dimple making an appearance, and leans over you where you’re still sweating all over his backseat. “Every parent has wet wipes in their car.”

You feel your cheeks heat at being caught, that he somehow knew you were drowning in the sudden onslaught of jealousy clawing up your chest. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” He throws the used wipes on the floor to pick up later, and then he’s wrestling around with you until you’re somehow laying on top of him across the seats, both of your legs bunched up and tangled together.

You’re sticky and sweaty, and Aaron has nearly sweated through his polo, causing it to cling to his chest in a way that has you wanting to put your hands all over him. So, you do, running your palms up and down him so intently that it gets a chuckle out of him.

“All of your clothes are still on.”

“Well, I was a little busy.” Oh, he’s a little cheeky after sex.

Both of you are laying in comfortable silence as you still catch your breaths, Aaron moreso than you, when his phone goes off where it hasn’t moved from the phone mount. The bright light causes you to squint, and you turn to press your face into Aaron’s chest with a whine. “Don’t pick up.”

“Alright, alright,” Aaron says despite him making no moves anyway to get up. He cranes his neck to get a good look at the caller ID and you can feel his body stiffen. “It’s your dad.”

And just like that, a bucket of cold water is splashed over you. You just had sex with your dad’s best friend in his expensive Range Rover in some sketchy rest stop.

You must have froze as well because then Aaron is running a hand up and down your back, making you shiver. He’s trying to comfort you, you know that, but honestly your thoughts immediately melt into other things that rely on his hands on you. Like pushing your head down between his legs. Maybe he’s right and you really are insatiable.

“Come on, let’s get going.”

The car ride the rest of the way to the hotel is mostly silent between you two, the only noises being the wind deafening you and your hair slapping into your face since he rolled the windows down.

To air out the stench of sex in the car, you remember.

You would almost think Aaron was mad, the way he didn’t try to make conversation with you, and you knew that you would be spiraling if it wasn’t for the fact that he held your hand in his lap the entire time.

You probably wouldn’t be much for conversation anyway—you’re already trying not to let your mind race about what you were going to do.

You’re only here for a couple of weeks, you go to school across the country, and technically, this was only supposed to be a summer fling. You don’t technically need to tell your dad about what happened.

You turn to look at Aaron, unabashedly. His hair is still tussled, thanks to your fingers, and there’s sweat beading along his forehead from the summer humidity. You stare at the sharp slope of his nose, the way the lights from the highway reflect in his dark eyes, and you’re suddenly wracked with the feeling of not wanting to let him go.

He squeezes your hand when he notices you staring for too long. He turns to you, most likely seeing the desperation on your face. He misinterprets it, thinking you’re running over what you’re going to tell your father over and over in your head. He has no idea that you want to keep seeing him, that you want to make this work somehow, whatever is between you two.

“We’ll figure it out.”

When you notice his gentle smile, the methodical way he runs his thumb over the back of your hand, you believe him.

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covenofagatha · 1 day ago

Note

hey!! can you do one where you run into professor agatha at the library while doing homework and it ends with her making you sit on her cock without moving while you study and you're impatient and she ends up fucking you right there in thar secluded corner (with lots of overstimulation and daddy kink if you're comfortable with that?)

Inspiration struck for this one today so hope everyone enjoys

I just started a new semester so probably won't be posting as much but I will do my best to keep writing and putting stuff out regularly. Also will be pausing any Agathario x reader fics for the moment

Learning to focus

When you run into Professor Harkness at the local library while you're supposed to be working on a project for her history class, you find yourself distracted by her (again)

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: public sex, GP Agatha, fingering, cockwarming, daddy kink, overstimulation, it really was agatha all along, slight humiliation?, hints of degradation

The Westview University campus library is always packed, so you usually opt for the local library about twenty minutes away from the school.

Much quieter and way less crowded.

And you don’t have to worry about running into any failed situationships or crazy roommates from past years.

Plus it’s a really nice library, two stories with long glass windows stretching from the ceiling to the floor. Even when you don’t have school work, you often enjoy coming here just to read or play on your computer. It’s a peaceful place, a place that lets you just relax and forget about the outside world and all the stress you feel.

Stress mainly from one class. Your history class.

Professor Agatha Harkness was the only one who taught U.S. History when your schedule could allow it, which meant you had to ignore all the bad reviews on RateMyProfessor.com, because you had no other option.

On the first day, you could see exactly where they came from.

One boy had shown up five minutes late, practically a miracle on the first day of classes, stammering an excuse about how bad traffic was, Professor Harkness had fixed him with a glare and told him that he better drop the class.

You were just thankful that you had a class before hers, otherwise you would’ve been late, too.

She was just as mean and ruthless and cold as everyone said she’d be. Her assignments were almost outrageous and she graded them so harshly it was honestly impressive you weren’t failing yet.

But the one thing the reviews forgot to mention was how attractive she is. Her long, dark hair that she’d often keep back in a ponytail. Her sharp blue eyes that reminded you of the ocean on a dark night. Her high cheekbones, her pointed nose, her wicked smirk, honestly, everything about her.

You suppose the more impressive thing is that you aren’t failing with how often you get distracted by the way her fingers on her left hand tighten around the dry-erase marker when she’s drawing time-lines on the board. When she sways her hips and flexes her knuckles which tightens her veins, you feel a tugging in your gut and you have to bite your lip.

And you definitely should not be noticing the bulge in her pants when she sits back with her legs spread in her chair while the class is taking an exam.

You have an optimal seat, all the way to the right of her desk and in the front row, so you can take her in without her noticing you too much.

If anyone looked too closely at you, they’d assume you were sweating because of the forty-five multiple choice and five written questions you had to answer in only a little over an hour.

That wasn’t it.

You swore she saw you looking one time, one particular day when she was wearing a blue flannel and loose fitting cargo pants. You were staring, so completely distracted when you should’ve been taking notes that you didn’t even notice she had dismissed the class.

It wasn’t until you finally realized that she was stalking toward you that you had fucked up. You had swallowed roughly and moved to shove your stuff into your bag when she had put her hands on your desk and leaned in, causing you to completely forget how to breathe.

“You seemed a little preoccupied there,” she murmured in a low voice, her hint of cologne tickling your nose. “Try to pay better attention next time. Don’t want to have to teach you a lesson.”

You had promptly nodded and almost ran to your dorm to fuck yourself to the thought of her teaching you a very different kind of lesson.

Professor Harkness is in your head, and you can’t get her out no matter how hard you try. Except right now, you really need to focus, because the end-of-semester project is due in a week and you haven’t started.

Did she give you the entire four months of the course to complete it? Yes. But you have never been good at working ahead or at time management.

She had assigned a ten page paper along with a hand-drawn timeline about something that had happened in the history of the United States. You had picked the Salem Witch Trials, and Professor Harkness had winked when you got the topic approved by her.

So you’re about to spend the next probably five hours in the library trying to make some headway on this project. The timeline should be easy, but it’s the paper you’re worried about.

You go up the stairs and wind through the aisles of books on the second floor until you get to your secluded corner, the one you always go to, the one with a small table and two chairs hidden by bookshelves and gasp.

Your favorite spot has been taken by none other than Professor Harkness. She’s sitting in the chair you usually sit in, pen between her teeth, staring at papers.

When she looks up, she doesn’t even seem surprised to see you and a slow grin spreads over her face.

“Professor, what are you doing here?” You ask, fiddling with the straps on your tote bag. Should you go somewhere else?

She chuckles. “In a public library in the town where I live?”

Your cheeks burn. “Right. Um, I’ve just never seen you here before.” And then you inwardly kick yourself because now it sounds like you’ve been on the lookout.

“Wanted to get out of the house,” she shrugs. “Have some papers to grade for that project due next week. How’s yours coming?”

“Oh, really good,” you lie, shifting your weight and trying to think of a quick way to get out of this conversation. “Almost done. Well, I don’t want to bother–”

She interrupts you by sliding the chair out next to her and patting it. “Why don’t you come show me what you have? I can give you some help, free of charge.” She winks, a glint in her eyes, and it makes your stomach twist.

“Oh, Professor, that’s not necessary,” you say nervously but she tsks and waves dismissively.

“Please, call me Agatha. It’s the weekend and we’re off campus. Now, come sit.” She makes it clear it’s an order and you gulp before taking the seat. Even being this close to her is affecting your body and you know there’s absolutely no way you’re getting anything done.

She’s currently grading a paper about the Boston Massacre and it’s drenched in red ink. You’re not sure which you feel more of: annoyance at your over-achieving classmates or absolute dread for how Agatha is going to react when she finds out that you haven’t even started and, even worse, lied about it.

You take a shaky breath, feeling her intense gaze on you. “So, the thing is…” You trail off, reaching down to pull out your laptop. You set it on the table and slowly open it, silently begging for the floor underneath you to open up and swallow you whole.

Anything would be better than this humiliation.

“Yeah?” Agatha breathes, suddenly much closer to you. You will your eyes to not look away from the computer screen and type in your password, praying that you didn’t leave anything that embarrassing up.

It opens up to the blank document titled Salem Witch Trials, just so it’s clear to Agatha what exactly this page was supposed to be.

You’d rather it have been porn.

Your professor chuckles slowly next to you. “Thought you were almost done?” She simpers in that gruff voice that drives you wild. “Did you get distracted again?”

Agatha leans forwards, resting her elbow on the table, and perching her head in her hand so she can peer at you. Your eyes glance over to meet hers and then back to your computer, but in your peripheral vision, you can see her body tilt toward yours and her legs open just the slightest.

Your mouth runs dry and you make a pointed effort not to look between them.

“What’s gotten you so preoccupied, babygirl?” She asks and you clench around nothing at the shift in tone and the pet name. Holy fuck. “I’ve seen you staring in class, you know. You’re not very subtle at all.”

Forget being swallowed by the floor, you might just combust out of pure embarrassment.

You try to stammer out something, an apology maybe, sorry for wanting to fuck you, Professor, but no sounds come out of your mouth. Her other hand comes up and teases a lock of your hair and you finally work up the courage to look at her.

Agatha’s eyes are heated and dark, all the blue practically gone, and her lips are parted just so. And then you flick your eyes down to between her legs involuntarily and you have to bite back a whimper because she’s fucking hard.

You can see her length through her navy pants and your brain short-circuits. Agatha likes this. Agatha likes you.

“Is that what gets you all hot and bothered? Can’t focus because you’re too busy staring at me?” Agatha asks, hand dropping to palm herself. She gives her dick a quick stroke and lets out a tight sigh and you have to hold onto the table to steady yourself.

Heat rushes through your body in an almost unbearable way. “Yes,” you whisper hoarsely.

Agatha takes her hand off herself and taps a finger to her lips. “Hmm,” she draws out thoughtfully. You can feel a puddle growing in your underwear. “You know, I’m used to the crushes. Doesn’t even phase me anymore, usually it’s college girls who are just so desperate for attention. Not getting it anywhere else and they think that their fifty year old professor will be into them.”

Your jaw clenches. Is this the part where she rejects you?

But Agatha smirks and looks you up and down, takes in your squirming body in the chair. “And I never have even considered it. Until you. None of them have been as delicious as you, pet.”

And it makes your head spin. It’s almost as if you’re in a trance when your hand grabs onto her thigh and Agatha lets out a low moan.

“Please,” you say, desperation in your voice. What are you asking for? You don’t even think you know.

Agatha tuts. “Do you really think you deserve anything? This paper is due in a week and you haven’t even started. Doesn’t seem like you should get a reward for procrastinating, does it?”

“It’s not my fault,” you whine before you can even think about it. There’s something about this side of Agatha specifically that makes your mind turn to mush.

She raises an eyebrow like she’s daring you to say that again. “I think you need to learn how to keep that pretty head of yours focused.” She nods to the computer screen. “Make an outline.”

You swallow roughly and straighten up, putting your hands on the keyboard. You’ve just switched tabs and begun googling “Salem Witch Trials” when Agatha’s hand lands on your upper thigh.

You freeze and glance at her out of the corner of your eye to find her scribbling another note on the paper in front of her. You don’t know how she’s so calm and collected when you feel like your entire body is on fire.

“Focus,” she tells you in that deep voice of hers and you click on the first result that comes up as her fingers begin to toy with the hem of your skirt.

You try, you really do try, but it’s so fucking hard to read the words on the screen when she’s inching closer and closer to your underwear, which you can feel is absolutely drenched.

And soon enough, she’s going to feel it, too. You can almost hear her dark laugh already when she realizes just how affected you are.

Her fingertips brush against you and instead of laughing, she gasps. “Oh, pet, no wonder you never pay attention in class,” she coos and a thrill runs through you despite how embarrassed you are. She effortlessly finds your clit through the fabric and rubs it and you have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip so you don’t make a sound.

“Agatha,” you say under your breath and you can practically hear her smirking. Why is it so hot that she is still grading the paper as she starts to run her fingers up and down your pussy over your underwear? She dips in at your entrance and a muffled groan tears itself out of your mouth.

“Is this what you’re like while I’m teaching, too?” She muses conversationally, but you look down just in time to see her cock twitch in her pants. It makes you feel even more exhilarated, knowing she’s just as affected. But then she moves your panties to the side and slides her fingers through your folds and you forget any train of thought you had. You really hope your wetness isn’t as loud as it sounds. “Dripping for me like a little slut? Getting yourself all worked up when I’m talking about the Declaration of Independence? It’s pathetic.”

You whimper, maybe in agreement, maybe at how good it feels when she pushes a finger into you, but her eyes slightly glaze over at the feeling of your warm walls around her.

“God, Agatha,” you moan, your own hand coming down to wrap around her wrist when she starts moving. You can feel her flexing with each thrust and your tongue presses against your cheek as you breathe heavily, leaning toward her.

She presses a quick kiss to your head and scrapes her teeth against your ear before hotly whispering, “Better be quiet, babygirl. And focus. Or I’ll stop.”

You manage to type out three bullet points worth of information when she slips another finger into you and you clamp a hand over your mouth before you moan obscenely.

Agatha leans over to read what you have so far. “Who was the first woman to be executed for witchcraft?” She asks and you realize that you never finished that sentence.

“Bridget Bishop,” you gasp, and she swipes at your clit as a reward, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine.

You continue to type, hoping it’s making sense because you can’t even comprehend the words, while Agatha continues to twist her fingers inside you roughly and rub your clit. You can feel your orgasm slowly building, and it only makes it worse every time Agatha hums right into your ear at something you’ve written. Your walls are clenching around her, trying to draw her even further into you, and she can tell you’re getting close, you’re going to cum so quickly around her fingers.

“There we go pet, such a good girl for Daddy,” she says into your ear and you spasm all around her, the name sending you right over the edge.

Who knew you’d like that so much?

Apparently Agatha did, who grins like a cat getting her cream as she fucks you through your orgasm with her fingers, keeping a steady rhythm on your clit. You taste blood from biting your lip so hard but you manage to keep quiet and you finally come down from your high.

But it’s not enough, you need more, and judging by the straining of Agatha’s cock against her pants, she needs more, too.

You move to touch her but she slaps your hand away. “Not yet,” she growls and it sends another blast of heat through you. You think there might be a wet spot on the chair underneath you.

It only makes it worse when she reaches down and undoes her own belt, fiddles with the button exasperatedly, and finally unzips her pants. She reaches inside and your jaw drops open when she pulls out her hard and leaking cock. It’s big, big enough to make your mouth water, and it almost looks painful. Agatha gives herself a few strokes, hips jumping, and she hisses when she rubs her thumb over the tip.

“Think you can focus while you sit on Daddy’s cock, babygirl?” She taunts. You’ve never felt so empty in your life, you need her so bad, and she’s right there.

You almost want to bend down and take her into your mouth, taste her hard cock.

“I asked you a question,” she reminds you roughly, slapping your thigh to get your attention. The sting makes you jump. “God, you really do get distracted easily.”

You mumble an apology, cheeks flushing. “I can focus, I promise,” you say, trying to sound convincing, but neither of you believe it. Regardless, she smirks and pats her legs and you do a cautious sweep of the surrounding area. This is incredibly dangerous and if you get caught, you both will get in serious trouble.

But for some reason, the thrill of getting caught only turns you on more.

So you stand up and straddle her and sit down, taking her cock in one fell swoop. She goes in easy with how wet you are and you bottom out in her lap, the both of you groaning quietly with restraint.

“Fuck, babygirl,” you hear Agatha huff and you squeeze your walls around her in response. It makes her thrust up and you inhale sharply at the feeling. She is so big and you can feel her throbbing inside you. “Better keep working.”

You lean forward slowly to move your laptop closer, the stretch absolutely delicious and she chuckles when you gasp as you settle back onto her. Agatha wraps her arms around your waist and you really do try to be good and focus, but every so often, she shifts beneath you and it hits that spot so deep inside you and you can’t help but squirm to try and get more.

Would she notice if you slowly start moving? Most likely, but it’s worth the risk. You give the gentlest roll of your hips and Agatha moans low into your ear before her fingernails dig into your hips through your skirt to still you. “Don’t even think about it,” she whispers dangerously so you’re forced to sit without moving on her cock that is filling you up better than anything ever has before.

It’s sweet torture and you write a few more sentences before you can feel your wetness dripping down her cock and out of you. Every so often, you’ll clench around her, too, completely involuntarily, of course, and she’ll buck into you like she can’t help it while breathing suddenly. You’re not sure how much longer of this you can take, the ache spreading everywhere in your body and absolutely ruining you.

“Agatha,” you whine again, begging, starting to move despite her death-like grip on your waist.

She moves your hair to the side and nips at your neck. “Yes, babygirl?”

“Can you please–” you begin, frustration leaking into your voice, tears pricking in your eyes. “Can you please move? Please, I need it so bad. I’m trying so hard to focus, please, can you fuck me? Daddy–”

Turns out, all you needed to convince her was to call her that, because she finally breaks and starts thrusting her hips up and pounding her cock into you. Your hand flies over your mouth and you bite onto a finger to stop yourself from crying out and you wish you weren’t in a library right now, rather be in the comfort of Agatha’s bed or car or office or anywhere but here, so you could be as loud as you want.

“Let’s see if you’re still distracted after Daddy fucks all the thoughts out of your head,” she snaps and fuck, you’re already so close after cockwarming her for those few minutes. She reaches around you with a hand to circle your clit, which is already sensitive from your previous orgasm and a muffled sound escapes you. Agatha laughs breathlessly and you strain your ears to hear if anyone is coming near you – not that you could do anything about it now – but there’s nothing.

Thank god this is a relatively empty library, especially at this time of the day, and that the two of you are tucked away in the back where it’s hard to see normally.

Agatha’s thrusts are getting so powerful that you’re forced to put your hands out on the table for balance which means it gets a lot harder to control your noises. But your professor, ever the problem-solver, comes up with a solution.

She slides two fingers into your mouth so you can suck on them and so your moans are stifled. Agatha presses her fingers against your tongue, scrapes her nails against it, and draws them out before shoving them back in, effectively fucking both your mouth and your pussy.

“You feel so good, babygirl, so fucking tight,” she pants into your ear and you gag when she pushes her fingers down your throat.

It’s so much, so much stimulation from her cock and her fingers and the fact that you’re being fucked in a public library where anyone could see that your orgasm hits you out of nowhere and it’s explosive. You sink your teeth into her skin and she moans, almost being louder before she remembers to control herself.

You need a moment to collect yourself, but she doesn’t give it to you; instead, she shoves you off her lap and stands up right behind you without her cock ever leaving your body.

Agatha bends you over the table, hand pressing against your back, and you have just enough awareness to move your laptop out of the way before she sets a bruising pace. The table must be bolted down to the floor or something, because it thankfully doesn’t move.

Agatha grunts softly with each thrust and you can feel her twitching inside you even though it feels like every single one of your nerves is on fire.

“Daddy, I don’t know if I can again,” you quietly sob, the pleasure fraying your mind, the sensitivity of your clit making you gasp when she rubs it. You feel like you’re drifting away from your body, dizziness swarming your head. “Too much,” you babble.

But she doesn’t slow down. If anything, she picks up her speed and tears fall from your eyes. “You can, babygirl, I know you can. You can take it – fuck, you feel so good around me.”

Agatha losing her composure because of you, just knowing you have that kind of affect on someone usually so cold and unaffected, is starting to build your orgasm back up.

“Daddy,” you whine, trying to be as quiet as you can. Her rhythm is starting to falter, she’s throbbing and twitching and cursing, fingers scrambling for purchase on your hips, and you know she’s getting close.

“So perfect, babygirl,” she mutters and you know she’s refraining from being louder, too. “I’ve wanted you for so long, ever since the first day when you walked into my classroom wearing that short skirt.”

The confession makes you clench and a gasp escapes your lips. You’re climbing closer and closer to the edge and Agatha isn’t far behind.

“Knew I had to have you,” she keeps going and your body is practically vibrating.

She’s pounding into you so deep, filling you so good, her cock dragging against your walls in the best way. Her ragged words are getting to her, too; you can tell in the way her thrusts become shallower and shorter like she can’t do anything more.

You’d make a quip about her being distracted but you can’t form a sentence right now. Every thought in your head is gone.

“Daddy knows you come here,” she continues and your eyes roll back into your head. You don’t even think you can understand her. You’re close, so close. “Knew you hadn’t started on the project. Knew you’d be here – fuck, babygirl.” She breaks off with a sharp inhale as you squeeze around her at her words.

This whole thing was planned. She’s wanted you just as badly as you’ve wanted her. And now she’s fucking you against a table in a library because of it.

She reaches around and rubs your clit and that’s it.

You cum all over her cock, walls convulsing around her, and she quickly follows, pumping her cum into you. You feel her warmth spreading through you and it makes you gasp.

Thankfully she pulls out because you truly can’t take anymore and she slides your underwear back into place before her cum can drip down your legs. She turns you around after zipping her pants back up and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You okay?” She murmurs and you weakly nod. “Is that pretty head of yours clear now? Think you can focus?”

The question makes you laugh. There are no thoughts left in your head whatsoever. “You do know that I’m only going to be thinking about this in your classes right? You just made the problem ten times worse.”

Agatha smirks and taps under your chin. “Tell you what, pet. For each day early you turn this project in, that’s one more reward you’ll get.”

And even though you’re completely worn out, your clit pulses at the thought of more.

“Think you’ll be able to focus now?” Agatha asks sweetly. You nod eagerly, your brain suddenly able to piece together how you’re going to structure your paragraphs, and she chuckles. “It’s all about finding the right motivation. I look forward to seeing your final project.” She winks, packs up her stuff, and then walks away.

You sit down in the chair, making a mental note to clean that and the table before you leave, and open your laptop back up.

Cracking your knuckles, you get to work, suddenly able to focus so much better now.

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