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What You Deserve
An Yujin x Male Reader
word count: 13K

Rain pelts the windows of your cramped apartment, a steady gray drizzle thatâs been going all afternoon. Itâs the kind of weather that makes you want to crawl under a blanket and disappear, and honestly, thatâs pretty much what youâve been doing. Youâre sprawled on the couch, still in the same faded hoodie and sweatpants youâve worn for three days straight, a half-empty bag of Doritos tipped over on the cushion next to you. The TVâs on, some random sci-fi rerun flickering across the screen, but youâre not really watching. Your headâs a messâhas been since the breakup hit you like a truck a week ago. Everythingâs fuzzy, like youâre moving through fog, and the ache in your chest hasnât let up for a second. You keep replaying the last fight, the way sheâyour exâstormed out, leaving you feeling like the worldâs biggest loser. Again.
The knock at the door jolts you upright, spilling a few stray Doritos onto the floor. You freeze, heart thudding. Who the hell would show up now? Youâre not expecting anyoneâhavenât even showered since⊠what, Tuesday? Hesitating, you shuffle over, socks scuffing against the hardwood, and peek through the peephole, thenâholy fuckâitâs An Yujin standing there, and your heart does a dumbass somersault right into your throat.
Yujin. Your Yujinâor ex-Yujin, whateverâlooking like she just strutted out of some wet dream youâd deny having.
Monthsâliteral monthsâsince you last saw her, and yet here she is, looking like she never left. You fumble with the lock, hands shaky, and crack the door open just enough to see her fully. Sheâs soaked from the rain, dark hair plastered to her neck, but somehow that only makes her more striking. Sheâs wearing this oversized black leather jacket, unzipped, over a cropped white tank top that clings to her skin just enough to show off her collarbones and the faintest outline of her bra underneath. Low-rise jeans hug her hips, frayed at the knees, and sheâs got these scuffed-up combat boots that somehow tie the whole look together. Casual, yeah, but the kind of casual that screams she knows exactly how good she looks. Water drips from her jacket onto your doormat, and she tilts her head, smirking faintly, like sheâs already won something.
âHey,â she says, voice low and smooth, cutting through the sound of the rain. âCan I come in? You look like youâve seen a ghost.â
Youâre too stunned to argue, stepping back to let her through. She brushes past you, close enough that you catch the scent of rain mixed with whatever expensive perfume sheâs still obsessed with. The door clicks shut behind her, and suddenly your dingy living room feels way too small. She glances around, taking in the messâempty takeout containers on the coffee table, a stack of unopened comics youâve been meaning to sort throughâand then her eyes land back on you. Theyâre piercing, like sheâs already peeling you apart layer by layer.
âJesus, youâre a wreck,â she says, but thereâs a softness to it, a fake kind of concern that youâre too foggy to clock right away. She shrugs off her jacket, tossing it over the arm of your couch like she still owns the place, and flops down onto the cushions, legs crossed, tank top riding up just enough to show a sliver of her stomach. âHeard about what happened. Mutual friends, you know how it goes. You okay?â
You blink, still standing there like an idiot by the door. Your brain's scrambling to catch up. "Uh... Yes. I mean, no. Not really." Your voice cracks, and you hate itâhate how pathetic you sound. You shuffle over to the couch, sinking into it, hands fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. "It's been... Rough. A week ago. Still kinda blurry."
She nods, leaning forward a little, elbows on her knees. Her eyes donât leave yours, and itâs unnerving as hell. âI bet. Breakups suck. Especially when itâs someone who didnât deserve you anyway.â She pauses, letting that sink in, and you feel this weird flicker of warmth, like sheâs actually on your side. âWhat happened? You donât have to spill everything, just⊠how you holding up?â
You swallow hard, staring at the floor. The rainâs louder now, drumming against the glass, and itâs easier to focus on that than her face. âI donât even know. We fought. She left. Said I was too⊠I dunno, clingy or something. Itâs all a mess in my head.â You laugh, but itâs bitter, hollow. âIâm not good at this stuff. Never have been.â
Yujin makes this little sound, like a hum of sympathy, and shifts closer, perching on the edge of the couch now. Her boots scuff the floor, and you canât help but notice how her jeans stretch tight over her thighs. âThatâs rough,â she says, voice dipping softer. âSounds like she didnât get you. Like, at all. Youâre too sweet for someone whoâd pull that crap.â She tilts her head again, hair falling over one shoulder, and itâs unfair how gorgeous she still is, even dripping wet and casual as hell.
You shrug, feeling the weight of everything pressing down harder. âMaybe. I just⊠I feel like I screwed it up. Like I always do.â Your eyes flick up to hers for a second, then dart away because looking at her too long makes your chest tight in a way you canât explain.
âHey, no,â she says, firm but gentle, leaning even closer now. You can feel the heat of her presence, the way she fills up the space between you. âDonât do that to yourself. Youâre not the screw-up here. She didnât see what she had, thatâs on her.â She reaches out, just brushing your knee with her fingers, and itâs like a spark jumps through you. You flinch, but donât pull away.
Youâre quiet for a minute, the room heavy with the sound of rain and your own uneven breathing. Sheâs watching you, patient but intense, like sheâs waiting for you to crack open. And you do, a little. âIâve just been⊠sitting here. Feeling like garbage. I donât know how to shake it.â
Yujin nods, like she gets it completely. âThen donât shake it alone,â she says, voice dropping again, pulling you in. âYou donât have to. Iâm here, right? I showed up because I wanted to see you. Check on you.â She smiles, small but sharp, and itâs like a lifeline tossed into the mess of your head. âWhy donât I stick around? We can talk. Or not talk. Whatever you need.â
You should say no. You know you should. Months ago, she was the one who left you spinning, who made you feel small and needy and not enough. But right now, with the rain and the gloom and the way your whole world feels like itâs caving in, sheâs the only thing that looks solid. The only thing that feels like it might hold you up. So you nod, slow and shaky, and mutter, âYeah. Okay. Stay.â
She leans back, settling into the couch like she never left, and youâre already sinking deeper into something you canât quite nameâbut it feels warm, and youâre too tired to fight it.
âHey,â you say, voice rough from disuse, âyou want some hot chocolate or something? Itâs crap weather out there. Youâre soaked.â
Her eyes flick up to yours, and for a second, you catch this glintâlike sheâs surprised youâre offering. Then she grins, slow and lazy, and nods. âYeah, that sounds good. You still make it the same way?â
âPretty much,â you mutter, pushing yourself up from the couch. Your legs feel wobbly as you shuffle to the kitchen, heart thudding harder than it should. You canât wrap your head around itâsheâs here. Showed up in the rain, no warning, looking like that. You grab a couple of mugs from the cabinet, the chipped blue one she always used to pick and a random green one for yourself. The kettleâs already half-full, so you flick it on, digging out the cocoa powder and a bag of mini marshmallows from the pantry. Youâre moving on autopilot, but your brainâs buzzingâwhy now? Why her?
She calls out from the living room, voice carrying over the hum of the kettle. âYou know, I still canât believe I walked all the way here in this. Guess I just had to see you for myself.â
You glance back at her, catching her stretching her arms over her head, tank top riding up again. âYeah, well, I canât believe it either,â you say. The water boils, and you pour it into the mugs, stirring in the cocoa until itâs smooth. A handful of marshmallows goes into hersâshe always liked it loadedâand you carry them back, handing hers over carefully. Your fingers brush hers as she takes it, and you pull back fast, sitting down with your own mug cradled in your hands.
She takes a sip, closing her eyes for a second like sheâs savoring it. âGod, this takes me back,â she says. âYou always made this when I was pissed off or whatever. Like clockwork.â She opens her eyes, locking them on you, and thereâs this weight in her gaze that makes you squirm.
You shrug, staring into your mug instead of her. âYeah, guess some things donât change.â The steam warms your face, and you take a sip, letting the heat settle into you. Itâs quiet again, just the rain and the faint hum of the TV, and you feel this pullâlike you need to say something, anything, to fill the space. âSo⊠uh, itâs been rough. With her. The ex, I mean. We fought all the time. Like, nonstop. Sheâd get mad over the dumbest stuffâme staying up late reading comics, or forgetting to text her back right away. And Iâd just⊠Iâd try to fix it, but it was like nothing I did was enough.â
Yujinâs listening, mug resting on her knee, her fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic. She doesnât interrupt, just nods a little, letting you spill. You keep going, the words tumbling out now that youâve started. âIt got worse toward the end. Sheâd yell, Iâd shut down. One time she threw my Switch across the room âcause I was playing Zelda instead of, I dunno, staring at her or something. Broke the screen. Then sheâd act like I was the one overreacting when I got upset. It was exhausting.â
âSounds like a nightmare,â Yujin says, her tone even but with this edgeâlike sheâs pissed on your behalf. She shifts, sitting up straighter, and takes another sip. âShe didnât get you at all. Throwing your Switch? Thatâs psycho. You donât mess with a guyâs games.â
You huff out a laugh, small and shaky. âYeah, right? I was so done by the end. But it still⊠it still messed me up. Like, maybe I was the problem. Too clingy, too needy, too⊠whatever.â You trail off, staring at the marshmallows melting into your hot chocolate, feeling that familiar pit opening up in your gut.
Yujin sets her mug down on the coffee table with a soft clink, leaning forward now, elbows on her knees. âHey, donât do that. Donât let her flip this on you. She sounds like she sucked to be around, plain and simple.â Her voice is firm, and when you glance up, her eyes are intense, boring into you. âI heard about her, you know. Mutual friends, like I said. Word is she was never that nice to begin with. Kinda had a rep for being a control freak.â
âYou⊠you knew about her?â
She shrugs, casual, but thereâs something sharp in it. âEnough. Heard you were dating again and⊠I dunno, it bugged me. More than it shouldâve.â She pauses, looking away for a second, out at the rain-streaked window, then back at you. âGuess I didnât like picturing you with someone else. Especially not someone whoâd treat you like that.â
Your throat goes dry, and you fumble with your mug, setting it down before you spill it. âI didnât⊠I mean, it was quick. After us, I just⊠I didnât know what I was doing.â Youâre stumbling over your words, and sheâs watching you, unblinking, like sheâs piecing you together. âMaybe I jumped into it too fast. Iâm not good at that stuffâfiguring things out on the fly. You know that.â
Her lips twitch, not quite a smile, but close. âYeah, I know. Youâre not exactly Mr. Impulse. Always overthinking everything.â She says it like itâs a fact, not a jab, but thereâs this undercurrentâlike sheâs pointing out something you missed. âBut itâs not your fault she was a trainwreck. You donât have to carry that.â
You lean back in the couch, running a hand through your hair. âI guess. Still feels like I shouldâve seen it coming. Iâm not⊠Iâm not good at picking people, you know? Always end up with someone who makes me feel like Iâm lucky they even bother with me.â
Yujinâs quiet for a beat, then she slides off the couch, moving to sit on the coffee table right in front of you, close enough that her knee bumps yours. Sheâs all sharp edges and soft glowâwet hair framing her face, tank top clinging just right, eyes locked on you like sheâs daring you to look away. âYou donât need to feel lucky,â she says. âYouâre better than that. Better than her. And honestly? You were always too good for me to deserve back then, too.â
You freeze, caught in the weight of her words. Sheâs so close now, and the room feels smaller, the air thicker. âYou donât mean that,â you mutter, half to yourself, but she shakes her head quick.
âI do. And you need to hear it.â She reaches out, just resting her hand on your arm, and itâs like the heat of her skin jolts you awake. âYouâre a mess right now, yeah, but you donât have to be alone with it. Iâm here. I came here for you. In the freaking rain, no less.â She laughs a little, soft and real, and itâs the first time tonight you feel something liftâlike the fog in your headâs thinning out.
You look at her, really look at her, and sheâs stupidly gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that makes your nerdy, self-doubting brain short-circuit. You feel that old pull, the one you could never shake with her, and itâs comforting and terrifying all at once. âThanks,â you say, quiet, barely audible over the rain. âI⊠I needed this. More than I thought.â
She smiles, small but warm, and squeezes your arm before letting go. âAnytime. You know Iâve got you.â And the way she says it, the way sheâs looking at you, you almost believe itâs that simpleâeven though deep down, you know nothing with her ever is.
âI missed you,â you say, voice low, almost lost in the sound of the storm. You didnât mean to say it out loud, but now itâs out there, hanging between you like a live wire.
Her eyes flick up to yours, and for a second, she just looks at youâsearching, maybe surprised. Then her lips curve into this slow, easy smile, and there they are: those dimples. Two little indents that used to drive you insane, the ones youâd poke with your finger when sheâd laugh, just because it was cute and sheâd pretend to hate it. Theyâre back now, and your chest tightens like someoneâs squeezed it. âYeah?â she says, voice soft but teasing, leaning in just a fraction. âYou missed me?â
You nod, swallowing hard, because what else can you do? Sheâs got you pinned with that look, and youâre already sinking. The fabric of the tight tank top hugging her like a second skin. You can see the faint outline of her bra, the way her collarbone catches the light, and your brain stumbles over itself. Your hands twitch, nervous energy spilling out, and you grip the mug tighter to keep them.
She noticesâof course she does. Her smile tilts into something sharper, more knowing. âWhatâs with you?â she asks, tilting her head so her hair falls over one shoulder. âYouâre all jumpy now.â
You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first. Your throatâs dry, and sheâs just sitting there, looking like that, and itâs scrambling you. âIâuh. Youâre just⊠you look good,â you manage, lame as hell, but itâs all youâve got.
She laughs, soft and low, and those dimples deepen. âThanks. But youâre dodging. Whatâs going on in that head of yours?â She leans closer, resting her elbows on her knees, and now sheâs really in your spaceâclose enough that you can smell the rain on her, mixed with that sharp-sweet perfume sheâs always worn.
You hesitate, but sheâs got you locked in, and the words spill out again before you can stop them. âI mean it. I really missed you. Like⊠a lot.â Your voice cracks a little, and you wince, but itâs true, and she can tell.
Her smile softens, less teasing now, more real. âI missed you too,â she says, and itâs quiet, almost like sheâs admitting it to herself as much as to you. She sits back a little, crossing her arms under her chestâyeah, thatâs not helping your nervesâand looks at you with this steady, unreadable gaze. âWay more than I thought I would. Youâre so damn low-profile, you know that? No socials, no updates, nothing. Made it impossible to keep tabs on you.â
âWait. You⊠you tried to keep tabs on me?â
She doesnât even flinch, just shrugs like itâs no big deal. âYeah. Couldnât help it. You just⊠disappeared after we split. Iâd scroll through your friendâs posts, hoping youâd pop up in the background or something. Pathetic, right?â She laughs again, but itâs self-aware, almost sheepish, and itâs so unlike her usual confidence that you donât know what to do with it.
âYou were stalking me?â you ask, half-joking, but your pulse is racing now. The idea of herâYujinâdigging around for scraps of you after everything⊠itâs doing something to you, lighting up a part of your brain youâve tried to keep dark for months.
She smirks, unbothered. âStalkingâs a strong word. Letâs call it⊠checking in. But yeah, maybe I was a little obsessed. Can you blame me?â She leans forward again, and now her handâs on your knee, light but deliberate, and your whole body locks up. âYouâve got this way of sticking in my head. Always have.â
Your mouth goes dry, and youâre staring at her hand like itâs burning through your sweatpants. âI⊠didnât know that,â you mutter. Sheâs looking at you like sheâs daring you to push, and youâre too weak to resist. âYou really thought about me that much?â
âMore than I shouldâve,â she says, voice dropping lower, and thereâs this edge to itâlike sheâs letting you in on something dangerous. âKept wondering what you were up to. Who you were with. Kept thinking about how youâd look at me with those big, dumb puppy eyes when Iâd push your buttons.â Her fingers flex against your knee, just enough to make you twitch, and she grins. âLike that. Right there.â
Youâre flustered now, heat creeping up your neck, and you hate how easily sheâs getting to you. âShut up,â you mumble, but itâs weak, and she knows it. You push anyway, because part of you needs to hear moreâneeds to feel this wanted. âSo what, you were just⊠lurking? Keeping score?â
She laughs, tilting her head back, and those dimples flash again, killing you all over. âNot lurking. Just⊠noticing. And yeah, maybe keeping score a little. Wanted to see if youâd crash and burn without me.â She pauses, eyes flicking over your face, and her voice softens. âDidnât expect to hear you were dating someone else so fast, though. That stung.â
You swallow, caught in the twist of itâguilt and this weird, messed-up thrill. âIt wasnât⊠it wasnât like that. I didnât plan it. Just happened.â
âYeah, I get it,â she says, but thereâs a flicker of something in her eyesâjealousy, maybe, or regret. âStill sucked, though. Finding out you were with her. Kept imagining you doing all the stuff we used to do. Made me wanna claw my eyes out.â Sheâs grinning when she says it, but itâs tight, like sheâs masking something raw.
Your headâs spinning now, and you canât stop yourselfâyou keep digging, chasing the high of her words. âSo you were, what, jealous? Obsessed enough to hate it?â
She leans in close again, her face inches from yours, and her voice drops to this husky whisper that makes your stomach flip. âYeah, jealous. Obsessed, maybe. Whatever you wanna call it. I didnât like sharing you. Still donât.â Her hand slides up your thigh, just a little, and itâs enough to set your nerves on fire. âYouâve always been mine, you know. Even when youâre not.â
You should pull back. You should laugh it off, call her out, somethingâbut you donât. Youâre hooked, reeled in by the way sheâs looking at you, by the way her confession makes you feel like youâre something. âThatâs⊠kinda messed up,â you say, but your voice is shaky, and your bodyâs betraying you, leaning toward her instead of away.
âMaybe,â she murmurs, and her lips are so close now you can feel her breath on your skin. âBut you like it. I can tell.â She pulls back just enough to smirk at you, those dimples mocking you, daring you to deny it. âGo ahead, tell me Iâm wrong. Tell me you donât miss thisâme, right here, knowing youâre all I think about sometimes.â
You canât. Sheâs got you dead to rights, and you both know it. Your heartâs hammering, and sheâs still got her hand on your thigh, and every nerve in your body is screaming at you to close the gap. âI⊠I donât know what to say,â you admit, because itâs trueâyouâre a mess, and sheâs unraveling you stitch by stitch.
âYou donât have to say anything,â she says, voice soft but commanding. âJust donât pretend you donât feel it too.â And sheâs rightâyou do. Youâre nervous, flustered, but under it all, youâre wanted, and itâs been so long since youâve felt that. Sheâs watching you, waiting, and youâre already too far gone to pull back now.
And then, casual as hell, she slides off the table and swings a leg over yours, settling right onto your lap. Just like that, like itâs nothing.
Your sanity cracks.
Sheâs warm, solid, her weight pressing down on you in a way that shorts out every rational thought youâve got left. Her tank top rides up slightly as she adjusts, showing a sliver of skin above her jeans, and youâre trying so hard not to stare, not to lose it completely. Your arms stay glued to the couch, fingers digging into the cushions like thatâs gonna keep you grounded. She notices, of course, and her smirk deepens, those dimples flashing like a warning sign.
âGod, youâre so tense,â she says, voice low and teasing, leaning forward just enough that her breath brushes your jaw. âWhatâs the matter? Canât handle me being this close?â Her hands settle on your shoulders, light but deliberate, and you feel the heat of her palms through your hoodie.
You swallow hard, throat tight. âI⊠uhâŠâ Words fail you, because yeah, sheâs rightâyouâre barely holding it together. Sheâs sitting on your lap, talking like itâs normal, and your brainâs frying.
She tilts her head, hair falling over one shoulder, and her tone shiftsâstill playful, but darker, laced with something raw. âYou know, I couldnât stop thinking about it. You with her. Some other girl sitting right hereââ she presses her hips down a little, just to make her point, and your breath hitchesââwhere I used to be. Like she could just slide in and take my place. Drove me up the wall.â
You blink up at her, caught off guard by the edge in her voice. âYou⊠you were that jealous?â Itâs a dumb question, but youâre too scrambled to care.
Her eyes narrow, and she leans in closer, her fingers tightening on your shoulders. âJealous? Try insane. Iâd hear stuffâRei or whoever running their mouth about you twoâand Iâd picture it. Her on your lap, her hands all over you, her thinking she could have you like I did. Made me wanna track her down and scratch her damn face off.â She laughs, sharp and bitter, but her gaze is steady, pinning you in place. âStupid, right? But I couldnât shake it.â
Your mouthâs dry, and youâre just staring at her now, the heat of her body sinking into you, making it impossible to think straight. âShe⊠she didnât compare,â you mutter, almost to yourself, but itâs loud enough for her to hear. âNot even close. She wasnât you. Didnât⊠do what you do. Didnât make me feel like this.â Your voice cracks a little, and you hate it, but itâs trueâsheâs got you surrendered, always has, and no one else ever came close.
Yujinâs smirk softens into something dangerous, something triumphant. âYeah?â she murmurs, shifting again, pressing herself closer so her chest brushes yours. âWhat do I do to you, huh? Tell me.â Her hands slide down from your shoulders, resting on your chest now, and you can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips, fast and steady.
You hesitate, your arms still frozen on the couch, but sheâs not letting you off that easy. She leans in, lips hovering near your ear, voice dropping to a whisper. âGo ahead. Touch me. You know you want to.â
Itâs a mistakeâyou know itâs a mistake. Once you cross that line, thereâs no going back, no pretending this didnât happen. But your hands move anyway, slow and shaky, lifting from the cushions to settle on her. One lands on her arm, the other on her waist, and the warmth of her skin hits you like a shockwave. Sheâs soft but firm, the curve of her waist fitting under your palm like it was made for it. Your fingers flex, testing the waters, and she lets out this quiet little hum that sends a jolt straight through you.
âThere you go,â she says, voice silky, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, and sheâs got that lookâlike sheâs already won. âFeels good, doesnât it? Been too long since you had your hands on me.â
You nod, barely conscious of it, because yeah, it does. âI missed this,â you admit, quiet and rough, your thumb brushing along the edge of her tank top where it meets her jeans. âMissed you. Your body⊠you look hotter now. If thatâs even possible.â
Her smile lights up, dimples popping again, and itâs like a reward. âYou think so?â she asks, voice bright with this twisted kind of joy. She shifts in your lap, deliberate, rolling her hips just enough to make your breath catch. âGood. âCause Iâve been thinking about you too. How youâd feel under me like this. How much I missed having you fall apart for me.â
Your hands tighten on her instinctively, one sliding up her arm to her shoulder, the other gripping her waist harder. âYujinâŠâ you start, but itâs weak, and she knows it. Sheâs got you wrapped around her finger, and youâre not even fighting it anymore.
âWhat?â she murmurs, leaning in so her lips are barely a inch from yours, her breath hot against your skin. âYou gonna tell me to stop? Or you gonna admit youâre still mine?â Her fingers trail down your chest, slow and teasing, and your resolve crumbles a little more with every inch.
âI⊠I shouldnât,â you say, but itâs half-hearted, and your hands are already moving again, tracing the line of her spine through the thin fabric of her top. âThis is a bad idea.â
âMaybe,â she agrees, but her voice is dripping with confidence, and sheâs closing the gap, her nose brushing yours. âBut youâre not gonna stop me, are you? You missed me too much. Missed this.â She presses herself closer, thighs tightening around your hips, and you feel every bit of herâwarm, alive, overwhelming.
âYeah,â you breathe, giving in, your hands sliding down to her hips now, pulling her against you like you canât help it. âI did. Missed you. All of you.â
She sighs, but itâs not softâitâs resigned, almost dramatic, like sheâs wrestling with something inside her. âGod, you mess me up so bad,â she says, shaking her head, but sheâs smiling again, dimples flashing as she cups your face with one hand. âIâm out here losing my mind over you, and youâre just⊠sitting there, letting me. Youâre the worst, you know that?â
You laugh, small and shaky, because itâs all youâve got left. âYouâre the one who climbed into my lap,â you point out, your hands roaming now, one slipping under the hem of her tank top to feel the bare skin of her lower back. âKinda hard to ignore you.â
âGood,â she says, and her voice drops again, husky and intent. âI donât want you to ignore me. I want you to think about me. All the time. Like I think about you.â She shifts again, grinding down just enough to make your head spin, and her lips are so close now you can taste the hot chocolate on her breath. âTell me you still want me. Say it.â
Your hands are all over her nowâone on her back, the other gripping her thighâand youâre done pretending youâve got any control here. âI want you,â you say, low and rough, and itâs like letting go of a weight you didnât know you were carrying. âAlways have. You know that.â
Her eyes flash, victorious, and she leans in, finally pressing her lips to yoursâjust a graze at first, testing you. But youâre already gone, pulling her in harder, kissing her like youâve been starving for it. She tastes sweet, like cocoa and something sharper, and she kisses back like sheâs claiming you all over again. When she pulls away, sheâs breathless, grinning, those dimples mocking you as she whispers, âSee? Told you youâre still mine.â
You donât argue. You canât. Sheâs got youâhook, line, and sinker.
The rainâs still pounding outside, a steady roar that fills the room, but all you can focus on is Yujin. Sheâs got you pinnedâfiguratively, literallyâstraddling your lap like she owns you, and honestly, she might as well. Her hand shoots up, grabbing your cheeks with one firm grip, squeezing just enough to make your lips pucker slightly. Her eyes lock onto yours, sharp and unyielding, and itâs like sheâs staring straight through you, peeling back every layer youâve tried to build up since sheâs been gone.
âSay it,â she demands, her thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. âSay you belong to me.â
Youâre already a messâheart racing, breath shallow, her weight pressing into you like itâs the only thing keeping you tethered. Your hands are still on her thighs, fingers digging into the denim, and you can feel the heat of her through it, steady and real. âI belong to you,â you say, the words spilling out fast, rough, like theyâve been waiting there all along.
Her grip tightens for a second, then loosens, and she tilts her head, studying you. âGood. Now tell meâwho do you belong to?â
âYou,â you answer, no hesitation this time, your voice steadier even though your pulse is hammering in your ears. âI belong to you, Yujin.â
She smirks, satisfied, and thereâs this glint in her eyesâlike sheâs won some game you didnât even know you were playing. âThatâs right,â she says, leaning in closer, her breath hot against your lips. âAnd no other girlâno oneâbetter come near you again. âCause I donât know what Iâd do. To her... To you.â Her voice drops, and it sends a shiver down your spineânot from fear, but from how much it gets to you.
âIt wonât happen,â you mutter, hands flexing against her thighs, squeezing harder like youâre trying to prove it. âNot again. Promise.â
Her smirk softens into something almost sweet, and she closes the gap, kissing you hard and sudden. Itâs not gentleâher lips crash into yours like sheâs staking a claim, teeth grazing your bottom lip for a split second before she pulls back, just enough to breathe. Itâs a reward, yeah, but itâs also a reminder: sheâs in charge. Always has been. Your headâs spinning, but you lean into it, chasing the taste of herâcocoa and that sharp edge thatâs all Yujin.
âThis is for your own good, you know.â Another kiss, quick and firm, then she pulls back to look at you, her hand still holding your face like youâre something precious sheâs molding. âIâm the only one who gets you. The only one who knows how to deal with youâhow to take care of you.â Her voice is soft now, almost hypnotic, weaving around the sound of the rain. âNo one else understands you like I do. You need me.â
You nod, dazed, because sheâs rightâyou do need her. Youâve been a wreck without her, and now sheâs here, filling up every empty space like she never left. Her bodyâs pressed against you, warm and insistent, and youâre hyper-aware of every point of contact. Your hands slide up her thighs, slow and tentative, and you can feel the muscle under the denim, the way she shifts under your touch. Sheâs solid, grounding, and itâs driving you insane.
She feels it tooâyour dickâs already hard, straining against your sweatpants, and thereâs no hiding it. Her hips shift, just a little, and she smirks again, that knowing look that always unravels you. âLook at you,â she says. âAlready falling apart just from this. Youâre so easy.â
You groan, low in your throat, embarrassed but also with desire. Your hands grip her tighter, pulling her closer, and she lets you, settling fully against you now. Her hand slides up, fingers brushing over your jaw, then tracing down the side of your face, slow and deliberate. âYouâre such a mess without me,â she murmurs, almost to herself, and her eyes are dark, drinking you in. âMy little boy. Mommyâs boy.â
The word makes you shiverâmommy. You used to call her that, half-joking but not really, because sheâd always take care of you, always know exactly what you needed. Hearing it now, from her lips, in that low, commanding toneâitâs like a switch flips. Your whole body reacts, a jolt running through you, and she clocks it immediately, her smirk widening.
âYeah,â she says, dragging the word out, her hand resting on your cheek now, thumb brushing your lips. âMommyâs boy needs some affection, huh? Some care. Look at youâjust sitting there, all needy and lost without me.â She shifts again, grinding down subtly, and you canât hold back the sound that slips out, a quiet, desperate little noise that makes her chuckle.
âPlease,â you mutter, barely audible, and youâre not even sure what youâre asking forâjust her, all of her, whatever sheâll give you. Your hands are everywhere now, roaming up her thighs to her hips, fingers digging in like youâre afraid sheâll disappear again.
She leans in, kissing you again, slower this time, savoring it. Her lips move against yours like sheâs memorizing you, tongue slipping past just enough to make your head spin before she pulls back. âIâve got you,â she whispers, forehead resting against yours for a second, her breath mingling with yours. âAlways have. No one else can do thisâmake you feel like this. Youâre mine, and Iâm not letting you forget it again.â
You nod, helpless under her, and she slides her hand down your chest, slow and teasing, resting it just above your waistband. She doesnât move further, just lets it linger there, and itâs enough to make you twitch, your dick throbbing under her weight. âSee?â she says, voice smug but soft. âNo one else gets you like this. All wound up, practically begging just from me talking to you. You missed your mommy, didnât you?â
âYeah,â you admit, voice rough, hands squeezing her thighs again, desperate for more but too wrecked to push for it. âMissed you so much. Just⊠need you.â
Her smileâs all victory now, dimples flashing as she kisses you again, quick and firm, then pulls back to look at you. âGood boy,â she murmurs, patting your cheek lightly, and itâs condescending as hell but it lights you up anyway. âMommyâs here now. Gonna take care of you, give you everything youâve been missing.â She rocks her hips again, just enough to drive you crazy, and her hand slides back up to your face, holding you there so you canât look away. âYou donât need anyone else. Just me.â
And you believe herâbecause right now, with her on top of you, her voice in your ear, her touch burning through you, itâs all you want. All youâve ever wanted.
You lean in and press your lips to her neck. Itâs instinctâyour mouth finds that spot just below her jaw, soft and warm, and you kiss it slow, dragging your lips against her skin. She tastes like rain and that sharp-sweet perfume, and itâs intoxicating, pulling you in deeper. Your hand starts moving, sliding down her side, fingers digging into the curve of her waist. Sheâs thicker now, softer in this way that makes your gut tighten, and you squeeze, feeling the give of her flesh under your grip.
She sighs, soft and airy, tilting her head back to give you more room, and itâs like sheâs melting into you. âFuck,â she mutters, voice low, her hands resting on your shoulders for balance. âYouâre too good at that.â Her tank topâs tight, stretched over her chest, but itâs not enoughâyou need more of her. Your fingers tug at the hem, and she gets the hint, shifting back just enough to peel it off in one smooth motion. It lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten, and now sheâs sitting there in just her bra, black and simple, hugging her curves like itâs doing you a favor.
Your eyes drop, and you canât help itâyouâre staring. She notices, smirking as she grabs your hand, guiding it to her tummy. Her skinâs warm, smooth under your palm, and she presses your fingers into it, letting you feel her. âBeen a while, huh?â she murmurs, voice teasing but heavy with something else. âMissed this?â
âYeah,â you breathe, your hand sliding up slow, tracing the dip of her stomach, the way it curves into her ribs. She moves your hand higher, deliberate, until itâs resting over her bra, cupping her breast. Theyâre medium, soft, spilling slightly over your palm as you squeeze, and she lets out this little soundâhalf sigh, half moanâthat hits you right in the gut.
âGot a surprise for you,â she says, leaning in close, her lips brushing your ear. âWanna see?â Her toneâs playful, but thereâs a challenge in it, like sheâs testing how far youâll go.
You nod, throat tight. âYeah. Show me.â
Her smileâs all teeth, wicked and bright, and she reaches back, fingers deft as she unhooks her bra. Itâs slow, deliberateâshe slides the straps down her shoulders one by one, letting the fabric fall away like sheâs unwrapping something precious. When it drops, you freeze, swallowing hard. Her breasts spill free, and there they areânipple piercings. Small silver bars glinting under the dim light, cutting through the soft pink of her nipples. Your breath catches, and your dick twitches in your sweats, already straining against the fabric.
âLike âem?â she asks, voice husky, watching your face like sheâs feeding off your reaction.
âFuck yeah,â you say, raw and honest, eyes locked on her. âTheyâre perfect.â Theyâre bold, unexpected, and so herâa little wild, a little dangerous, and youâre losing your mind over it.
She leans back slightly, letting you take it all in, and her voice drops lower. âTheyâre sensitive as hell now. Took a while to get used to, but⊠worth it.â Sheâs smirking again, daring you, and your handâs already moving, brushing over one breast, thumb grazing the piercing. The metalâs cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her, and she gasps, sharp and sudden, her body arching into your touch.
âShit,â she mutters, biting her lip, and you can see itâhow sensitive they really are. Her nipple hardens under your fingers, and you roll the bar gently, testing it. She sighs again, louder this time, her hands gripping your shoulders tighter. âYouâre gonna kill me with that,â she says, but sheâs grinning, eyes half-closed, loving every second.
You hesitate, hand still on her, and glance up. âCan I⊠suck them?â Itâs polite, almost awkward, because youâre so wound up you can barely think straight, but you need to ask.
She laughs, soft and real, tilting her head like sheâs charmed by it. âGod, youâre cute. Yeah, of course you can. Go for it.â She shifts closer, practically offering herself up, and you donât waste time.
You lean in, lips brushing her skin first, just below her breast, tasting the faint salt of her. Then you move higher, closing your mouth over her nipple, the piercing cool and hard against your tongue. You suck, slow and careful at first, feeling the way she reactsâher body tensing, a quiet moan slipping out. The metal rolls in your mouth, smooth and strange, and you flick your tongue over it, testing. She groans, low and ragged, her fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer.
âFuck, thatâs good,â she breathes, voice rougher now, her hips shifting in your lap. You can feel her pressing against you, the heat of her through her jeans, and your dickâs throbbing, trapped under her weight. Your handâs still squeezing her other breast, thumb teasing the piercing there, and sheâs squirming, every sound she makes driving you further into this haze.
You pull back for a second, just to lookâher nippleâs wet from your mouth, the piercing glinting, and sheâs flushed, chest heaving. âSo sensitive,â you mutter, almost to yourself, and she nods, biting her lip again.
âTold you,â she says, breathless, her hand sliding down your chest now, teasing the edge of your hoodie. âKeep going. Donât stop.â Itâs not a requestâitâs a order, and youâre too far gone to do anything but obey.
You dive back in, sucking harder this time, letting your teeth graze the bar just enough to make her hiss. Your handâs roaming now, sliding down her side, squeezing her thicker hips, her ass, anything you can reach. Sheâs solid and soft all at once, and itâs messing with you, how much youâve missed thisâmissed her. Every sigh, every little twitch of her body, itâs like sheâs pulling you apart piece by piece, and youâre letting her.
âFuck, babe,â she breathes, voice ragged, her fingers tangled tight in your hair. âYouâre so good at thatâshit, donât stop.â The pet name hits you like a spark, lighting you up, and you groan against her skin, pressing your face closer, hungry for more of her. Sheâs warm, soft, the faint taste of her skin driving you wild, and you flick your tongue over the piercing again, slow and deliberate, just to hear her gasp.
âYeah, like that,â she murmurs, her head tipping back, eyes half-shut. âGod, youâre such a sweet boy, huh? My sweet little babe, driving me crazy.â Her words drip with that mix of affection and control sheâs always had over you. You switch to her other breast, mouth closing over it, sucking hard, and she moans, louder this time, her hips rocking against you. âYouâre starving for me, arenât you?â she says, smirking through it, her voice all husky and teasing. âCan feel how much you want this.â
You pull back just long enough to mutter, âFuck yeah, I am,â voice rough, desperate, before diving back in. Your tongue circles her nipple, teasing the piercing, and sheâs squirming now, thighs tightening around your hips. Your hands are everywhereâgripping her waist, sliding up her back, squeezing her breastsâbecause you canât get enough. Sheâs thicker, curvier than you remember, and itâs got you ravenous, every touch feeding this ache thatâs been building since she walked through the door.
âMissed my body this much, huh, honey?â she asks, leaning down so her lips brush your ear, her breath hot and uneven. âCanât keep your hands off me.â She shifts, grinding down harder, and you groan into her skin, your dick twitching painfully in your sweats. Youâre so hard itâs borderline unbearable, trapped under her weight, and she knows itâfuck, she loves it.
âYeah,â you rasp, pulling back to catch her eye, your mouth wet from her skin. âMissed you. Missed this. Youâre fucking unreal.â Your hand slides down, cupping her ass through her jeans, and you squeeze, pulling her closer. She sighs, pleased, and runs her fingers through your hair, tugging just enough to make you look up at her.
âLook at you, my needy little babe,â she says, grinning, those dimples flashing as she watches you unravel. âAll worked up just from sucking on me. Youâre too cute.â She leans in, kissing you messy and deep, her tongue sliding against yours, and youâre drowning in itâher taste, her heat, the way sheâs owning you without even trying.
Youâre panting when she pulls back, and sheâs flushed now, chest heaving, her pierced nipples glistening from your mouth. âShit,â you mutter, staring, and she laughs, soft and smug, like sheâs got you exactly where she wants you. Your hands are still on her, roaming, and your dickâs screaming for relief, pressed tight against her. She feels itâhas toâand her smirk turns wicked.
âPoor thing,â she coos, shifting back just enough to slide off your lap, slow and deliberate. âYouâre rock-hard, arenât you? Been dying for me this whole time.â She stands in front of you, close enough that her knees brush yours, and youâre staring up at her, chest tight, hands flexing on the couch cushions because you donât trust yourself to touch her without losing it.
âYeah,â you admit, voice hoarse, eyes locked on her. âCanât help it. Youâre⊠fuck, Yujin, youâre killing me.â
âGood,â she says, and thereâs that edge againâpossessive, commanding. She reaches down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your sweats, and your breath catches as she tugs, slow and teasing. âLetâs see how bad youâve got it. Lift up for me, babe.â You do, no hesitation, raising your hips so she can pull them down, taking your underwear with them in one smooth motion. They hit the floor, and youâre bare under her gaze, dick hard and aching, precum already beading at the tip.
She steps back, just a little, eyes raking over you, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. âDamn,â she mutters, almost to herself, then looks back up at you with a grin. âLook at you, all ready for me. My sweet boyâs been holding out, huh?â Her voice is dripping with mock sympathy, but you hear the hunger in it, and it makes your head spin.
âOnly for you,â you say, raw and honest, and her smile softens, just for a second, before that wicked edge creeps back in. She drops to her knees in front of you, slow and deliberate, and your stomach flips as she settles between your legs, hands resting on your thighs.
âGonna take care of you,â she murmurs, leaning in, her breath ghosting over your skin. âMy needy little babe deserves it.â And youâre gone, completely, because sheâs got youâevery inch, every thought, every desperate fucking heartbeat.
The rainâs still drumming outside, but itâs nothing compared to the pulse pounding in your ears. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your skin, and you tense, every muscle coiled tight, waiting for her to make her move.
âFuck, babe, look at you,â she says, her eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second before dropping back down to your cock. âThis thingâs as big as I remember. Thick tooâgoddamn perfect.â She licks her lips, slow and deliberate, and you feel it like a jolt, your hips twitching involuntarily. She notices, and her smirk widens. âMissed me that bad, huh?â
âYeah,â you mutter, voice scraped raw, hands gripping the couch cushions because if you donât hold onto something, youâre gonna grab her and fuck her mouth yourself. âMissed your mouth on me. Been too fucking long.â
She hums, pleased, and her fingers finally wrap around youâloose at first, just sliding up the length of your shaft, her thumb brushing the tip where youâre already leaking. âMissed this too,â she says, almost to herself, her grip tightening as she gives you a slow, teasing stroke. âLove how you feel in my hand. So heavy. Bet youâve been dying for me to suck you off.â
âFuck yeah,â you groan, head tipping back against the couch for a second before you force it forward againâyouâre not missing a damn thing. âPlease, Yujin. Need it.â
She chuckles, low and dirty, and leans in, her lips brushing the head of your cock, just enough to smear the precum across them. âSo polite when youâre desperate,â she teases, then sticks her tongue out, flattening it against the tip, licking slow and filthy. Your whole body jerks, a curse slipping out under your breath, and she grins like sheâs won something. âTastes good,â she murmurs, then drags her tongue down the side, tracing a vein, taking her sweet time.
Youâre shaking now, barely holding it together, and she knows itâloves it. âShit, Yujin, stop fucking around,â you grit out, voice tight, hips shifting toward her mouth. âSuck it already.â
âBossy,â she mutters, but sheâs still smiling, those dimples flashing as she opens her mouth and finallyâfinallyâtakes you in. Her lips wrap around the head, tight and wet, and she slides down slow, sucking just enough to make your head spin. You groan loud, guttural, your hands flexing on the couch because you want to grab her hair, shove her down further, but you let her set the pace.
âFuck,â you hiss, watching herâher cheeks hollow out as she pulls back, spit pooling at the corners of her mouth, then she sinks down again, deeper this time, taking half of you. Her tongueâs working the whole time, swirling around the tip when she pulls up, pressing flat against you when she goes down. Sheâs so fucking good at thisâalways has beenâand youâve missed it like hell, the way she makes you feel like youâre the only thing that matters.
âMmm,â she hums against you, the vibration shooting straight up your spine, and your dick twitches in her mouth. She feels it, pulls off just enough to talk, her hand stroking you slow and slick. âGod, I love this cock,â she says, voice raw, eyes locked on yours as she drags her tongue up the underside, sloppy and shameless. âSo fucking big, fills my mouth just right.â She dives back in, sucking harder now, her head bobbing slow and steady, and youâre unraveling, piece by piece.
âShit, babe,â you groan, head tipping back again, but you canât take your eyes off her for longâwatching her lips stretch around you, her tongue flicking every time she pulls up. âYouâre so fucking goodâmissed this so much.â Your hips buck a little, chasing her mouth, and she moans around you, the sound filthy and perfect.
She pulls off with a wet pop, spit trailing from her mouth to your cock, and she grins, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. âYeah? Missed me sucking you off? Bet no one else comes close, huh?â Her hand keeps moving, jerking you slow and tight, and you shake your head, breathless.
âNo one,â you pant, ânot even fucking close. Youâre⊠fuck, youâre everything.â
Her eyes light up at that, all smug and satisfied, and she leans down again, kissing the tip like itâs a tease before taking you back in. This time she goes deeper, throat relaxing as she slides down, down, until her nose is damn near brushing your pelvis. You curse loud, hips jerking up, and she takes itâlets you hit the back of her throat, gagging just a little before pulling back, eyes watering but still grinning.
âGoddamn, Yujin,â you rasp, hands finally giving in, sliding into her hair, not pushing, just holding. âYouâre gonna kill me.â
She pulls off again, gasping a little, spit dripping down her chin, and her handâs still working you, slick and fast now. âGood,â she says, voice wrecked, âthen youâll die happy, babe.â She dives back in, sucking hard and sloppy, her tongue all over you, and youâre barely holding it together, and she knows it, feeding off the way youâre falling apart under her touch. Then she shifts, slow and deliberate, sliding her mouth lower, and your brain short-circuits when you realize where sheâs going.
âFuck, Yujinââ you start, but it cuts off into a groan as her lips brush your balls, heavy and tight, aching from how worked up sheâs got you. She doesnât hesitateâjust dives in, sucking one into her mouth, warm and wet, her tongue rolling over it like sheâs savoring every second. Her handâs still wrapped around your cock, stroking you steady and firm, and the comboâs fucking lethal. Your hips jerk up, involuntary, and you feel her moan against you, the vibration hitting you like a shockwave.
âGoddamn, babe,â she murmurs, pulling back just enough to talk, her voice muffled against your skin. âThese are so fullâbeen saving up for me, huh?â She switches to the other one, sucking harder now, her tongue flicking and teasing, and youâre losing it, hands gripping the couch cushions so tight your knuckles are white.
âMommy,â you groan, the word slipping out before you can stop it, raw and desperate, and she freezes for a split second, like itâs flipped a switch in her. Then she pulls off your balls with a wet pop, eyes snapping up to yours, dark and hungry.
âFuck, say that again,â she demands, her hand pumping your cock faster now, slick with spit and precum. âCall me that again, babe.â
âMommy,â you mutter, voice wrecked, and she moans, low and filthy, like itâs the hottest thing sheâs ever heard. She leans back in, sucking your balls again, her tongue working them over with this skillful precision thatâs got you shaking. Sheâs relentlessâalternating between them, pulling one into her mouth, then the other, her lips stretching around you, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucks. All the while, her handâs jerking you off, tight and steady, and youâre a mess of moans and curses, barely able to think straight.
âShitâfuck, mommy, youâre so good,â you pant, head tipping back, your whole body tensing as she works you over. Her free hand slides up your thigh, squeezing, nails digging in just enough to sting, and itâs like sheâs claiming every inch of youâmouth on your balls, hand on your cock, owning you completely.
She pulls back again, letting your balls slip out of her mouth, wet and messy, a string of spit connecting her lips to you before it snaps. She wipes her chin with the back of her hand, grinning like a goddamn demon. âTaste so fucking good,â she says, voice rough, her eyes locked on yours as she gives your cock a slow, teasing stroke. âBeen dreaming about thisâgetting my mouth on you again. Youâre a fucking wreck for me, arenât you?â
âYeah,â you gasp, chest heaving, dick twitching in her grip. âCanâtâfuck, canât get enough of you.â Your hands slide into her hair now, shaky and desperate, but you donât pushâsheâs in control, and you both know it.
She hums, satisfied, and gives your balls one last lickâlong and slow, dragging her tongue up from the base to the tip of your cock like sheâs savoring you. You shudder, a loud âshitâ slipping out, and she chuckles, dark and smug, before climbing to her feet. Youâre panting, flushed and sweaty, dick glistening from her spit, and sheâs standing there like sheâs just getting started.
âCâmon,â she says, voice low and commanding, holding out her hand. âBedroom. Now. Weâre done messing around on this couchâI wanna really fuck you up.â Her eyes flick over you, taking in how wrecked you already are, and her smirk turns sharp, dangerous. âGonna have some real fun with you, babe.â
Youâre on your feet before you even realize it, grabbing her hand, letting her pull you up. Your legs feel like jelly, dick still painfully hard, swinging free as you stumble after her. âFuck, Yujin,â you mutter, half-dazed, watching her hips sway as she leads you down the hall, jeans hugging her ass just right. âYouâre really killing me.â
âGood,â she throws back over her shoulder, not even turning around. âThatâs the plan. Youâre mine tonightâgonna make sure you donât forget it.â She pushes open the bedroom door and tugs you inside, kicking the door shut behind you, and turns to face you, eyes glinting with something wild.
âGet on the bed,â she says, and itâs not a requestâitâs a order. Your heartâs pounding, dick throbbing, and youâre so hungry for her you can taste it, feel it in every shaky breath. Youâre fucked, completely, and you wouldnât have it any other way.
Youâre sitting on the edge of the bed, still buzzing from her mouth on you, when Yujin steps back, hands on her hips, eyes locked on yours like sheâs about to put on a damn show. The roomâs dim, just the faint glow from the streetlights slipping through the blinds, but itâs enough to watch her every move. She kicks off her boots first, casual and quick, then her hands go to the button of her jeans. Youâre mesmerized, canât look away as she pops it open, sliding the zipper down slowâteasing, like she knows exactly what sheâs doing to you.
âFuck,â you mutter under your breath as she peels the jeans off, inch by inch, the denim hugging her hips before dropping down her legs. She steps out of them, kicking them aside, and there she isâjust in her panties, black and simple but barely holding back whatâs underneath. Her thighs catch your eye firstâthick, juicy, the kind of curves you want to sink your teeth into. They flex slightly as she shifts her weight, and your dick twitches, already rock-hard from the sight alone.
She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, smirking when she catches you staring. âYou like?â she asks, voice low and cocky, dragging them down slow, letting the fabric roll over her hips, then her thighs, until they hit the floor. And fuckâthereâs her pussy, glistening in the low light, already wet like sheâs been thinking about this as much as you have. Sheâs got this neat little patch of hair, lightly trimmed, a perfect pattern that draws your eye right to her, and youâre practically drooling.
She steps closer, slow and deliberate, hips swaying just enough to fuck with your head. Youâre still sitting there, hands twitching, when she stops right in front of you, close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off her. Your hands move on instinct, sliding up to her waist, gripping her soft skin, and you pull her in, pressing your lips to her tummy. Itâs warm, smooth, and you kiss it slow, dragging your mouth over her, tasting her faintlyâsalt and that addictive edge thatâs all her.
âMm, good boy,â she murmurs, voice dripping with that dom energy she wears like a second skin. Her hand slides into your hair, stroking it, fingers curling just enough to tug lightly. âYouâre already so fucking gone for me, arenât you?â
âYeah,â you breathe against her skin, voice rough, trailing more kisses down her stomach, slow and hungry. Youâre standing now, canât stay still anymore, your hands roaming up her sides as your lips move lower, chasing that scentâthat fucking pullâdrawing you in like a drug. You pause just above her pussy, nose brushing the trimmed hair, and inhale deep. Itâs musky, sweet, so goddamn addictive you feel lightheaded. âFuck, I missed this,â you groan, almost to yourself, your mouth watering. âMissed you.â
She laughs, low and smug, her hand tightening in your hair. âYeah? Then stop teasing and eat my pussy, babe. Show me how much you missed it.â Itâs a command, sharp and final, and itâs all you need to hear.
You drop to your knees, hands sliding down to grip her thighsâthick and solid under your palmsâand pull her closer. She spreads her legs a little, giving you room, and you dive in, no hesitation. Your tongue drags up her slit first, slow and deliberate, tasting herâwet and slick, already dripping for you. Sheâs tangy, hot, and you groan against her, the sound vibrating through her as you flick your tongue over her clit.
âFuck, thatâs it,â she hisses, her hand shoving your face tighter against her. âRight thereâdonât you dare stop.â Her hips roll forward, grinding against your mouth, and youâre all in now, licking and sucking like youâre starving. You swirl your tongue around her clit, teasing it, then suck it hard, letting your teeth graze just enough to make her gasp. Her thighs tremble under your hands, and you squeeze them, pulling her closer, burying yourself in her.
âGoddamn, youâre so fucking good at this,â she pants, voice breaking a little, her dom edge slipping as she starts to unravel. âMissed that mouthâshit, babe, keep going.â Her hips buck harder, and youâre drowning in herâher taste, her heat, the way sheâs soaking your chin. You slide a hand up, fingers brushing her entrance, but you donât push in yetâjust tease, letting her feel it.
She moans loud, shameless, her grip in your hair turning rough. âFuck, donât play with meâeat me like you mean it.â You doâtongue plunging deeper, licking up every drop, sucking her clit until sheâs shaking. Her pussyâs pulsing, slick and swollen, and youâre obsessedâdrinking her in, feeling her thighs clamp around your head. âYeah, just like thatâmy good fucking boy,â she growls, and it hits you right in the chest, fueling this desperate need to please her.
You pull back for a second, gasping for air, lips and chin dripping. âYou taste so fucking good,â you mutter, raw and wrecked, diving back in before she can even respond. Youâre licking harder now, sloppier, tongue everywhereâher clit, her lips, dipping inside just to feel her clench. Sheâs cursing, moaning, starting to ride your face, and you let her, hands gripping her ass now, guiding her as she bucks against you.
Your tongueâs working overtime, lapping up every bit of her, and sheâs so fucking wet itâs obsceneâher juices coating your lips, your chin, sliding down your neck. You groan into her, the sound muffled against her skin, and itâs like youâre drunk on her, hunger spiking with every taste.
âFuck, babe, youâre killing me,â she mutters, voice rough and shaky, but sheâs not pulling awayâsheâs leaning into it, giving you more. She shifts, lifting one leg and planting her foot on the bed, spreading herself wide open. Her pussyâs glistening, creamy now, this thick, delicious slick starting to leak out, and itâs driving you wild. You can see itâwhite and sticky, clinging to her foldsâand you dive in deeper, tongue plunging inside her, chasing it like itâs your fucking lifeline.
âShitâoh my god,â she gasps, her hand tightening in your hair, shoving your face harder against her. âYeah, just like thatâget in there, fuck.â Her hips roll, grinding against your mouth, and youâre surrounded by herâher heat, her scent, that addictive cream coating your tongue as you dig it in, scooping it out. Itâs filthy, messy, and youâre loving every second, sucking hard, letting it smear across your lips as you tongue-fuck her with everything youâve got.
Sheâs melting, you can feel itâher thighs trembling, her breath hitching in these sharp little bursts. âYouâre so fucking hungry for me,â she moans, half-laughing, half-wrecked, her leg wobbling on the bed as she opens up even more. âCanât get enough of my pussy, huh? Look at you, drowning in it.â You groan again, louder, pressing your face so deep into her you can barely breathe, licking up that creamy slick like itâs the best thing youâve ever tastedâbecause it is.
You squeeze her ass harder, pulling her closer, fingers sinking into her thick flesh as you keep going, relentless. Her pussyâs pulsing around your tongue, soaking you, and youâre a fucking messâface shiny, lips swollen, chin drenched. You slide your tongue out, dragging it up to her clit, sucking it hard, then dipping back down to thrust inside her again, catching more of that cream. Itâs coating your mouth now, sticky and sweet, and youâre growling against her, primal, desperate, completely lost in her.
âFuck, donât stopâdonât you fucking stop,â she pants, voice breaking, her hips bucking harder, practically riding your face. âYouâre gonna make meâshitââ She cuts off, moaning loud, her whole body tensing, and you double down, tongue plunging deep, sucking her inner walls, nose grinding against her clit. Her pussyâs so creamy now itâs spilling out, dripping down your chin, and youâre licking it up, swallowing it, starving for every drop.
Sheâs shaking hard, leg slipping a little on the bed, but you hold her steady, keeping her open as you push her over the edge. âCâmon, mommy, cum for me,â you mumble into her, voice muffled, needy, and thatâs itâshe snaps. Her hips jerk, a loud, ragged âFuck!â ripping out of her as she cums, hard and messy. Her pussy clenches around your tongue, flooding you with more of that thick cream, and youâre drinking it, lapping it up through her shakes, her gasps, her nails digging into your scalp. Sheâs trembling, falling apart, and you donât stopâsucking, licking, letting her ride it out until sheâs boneless, breathless.
You finally pull back, face drenchedâher juices glistening on your mouth, your chin, even your nose. Youâre a fucking sight, shiny and wrecked, and she looks down at you, chest heaving, eyes dark and satisfied. She grabs your face, rough but slow, and leans in, tongue darting out to lick across your lips, then your chin, tasting herself on you. Itâs filthy, hot, and you just sit there, dazed, letting her do it.
âFuck, youâre perfect,â she murmurs, voice low and raw, dragging her tongue up one last time before kissing you hard, sloppy, her taste all over both of you. She pulls back, smirking, wiping her thumb across your wet mouth. âSuch a good boy for meâlook at you, all shiny and fucked out from eating my pussy. Did so good, babe.â
You grin, still catching your breath, hands still on her thighs, feeling the heat of her skin. âAnything for you,â you say, and her smirk softens just a little, that dom edge giving way to something softer, something proud. She ruffles your hair, still panting, and youâre sitting there, heart hammering, completely fucking gone for her.
She stands up, all curves and confidence, and nods toward the bed. âCâmon, babe,â she says, voice low and commanding, like sheâs summoning you. âGet over here. Time to give you what you deserve.â
Your legs feel like rubber, but youâre up fast, stumbling after her like a fucking puppy, too wrecked to play it cool. Sheâs already climbing onto the bed, and you follow, heart pounding, dick still hard and aching from everything sheâs already done to you. She turns, lying back against the pillows, then pats the spot beneath her, eyes glinting with that dom energy thatâs got you hooked. âLie down,â she orders, and you doâno hesitation, flat on your back, staring up at her like sheâs a goddamn goddess.
She swings a leg over you, straddling your chest first, and fuck, the viewâher thighs framing your face, her pussy still glistening, her pierced nipples catching the light. She slides down slow, deliberate, until sheâs hovering over you, her weight pressing you into the mattress. âThis is how it should be,â she says, voice dropping, dark and possessive. âYou under me, obeying me, worshiping me like the good boy you are. Thatâs what you want, right?â
âYeah,â you breathe, hands twitching at your sides, dying to touch her. âFuck yeah, Yujin. Always.â Your voice is shaky, raw, and she smirks, loving how gone you areâhow youâre hers without even trying.
âGo ahead then,â she murmurs, leaning down so her lips brush your ear, her hair tickling your face. âTouch me. Show me how much youâve missed this.â Your hands move fast, sliding up her thighs, feeling the thick, warm muscle under your palms, then higher, over her hips, her waist, that soft tummy you kissed earlier. Sheâs solid and real, every inch of her screaming power, and youâre just⊠lost in it, fingers roaming like youâre trying to memorize her all over again.
She shifts, grabbing your cock with one handâfirm, no bullshitâand you groan, hips jerking up at the contact. âEasy,â she warns, smirking down at you as she lines you up, the tip brushing her pussy, wet and hot and so fucking close. âYouâre gonna take what I give you, yeah? No rushing me.â
âYes, mommy,â you mutter, half-dazed, and her eyes flash, that word lighting her up. She sinks down then, slow and deliberate, and you both sighâher pussyâs tight, slick, swallowing you inch by inch like itâs meant to. Youâre stretching her out, and sheâs gripping you so good itâs like sheâs pulling you apart. âFuck,â you gasp, hands clutching her hips now, digging in, and she moans, low and sweet, settling all the way down until youâre buried deep.
âGoddamn, youâre big,â she mutters, almost to herself, adjusting her hips a little, and you feel her clench around you, hot and wet and perfect. âMissed this cockâmissed you.â She leans forward, hands braced on your chest, and you still canât believe itâyour Yujin, back on top of you, fucking owning you like this. Her hair falls over her face, and you brush it back, needing to see her, those sharp eyes, that cocky little grin.
She starts moving then, slow at first, rolling her hips like sheâs testing you, seeing how long you can last under her. âLook at you,â she says, voice dripping with control, âjust lying there, taking it like a good boy. Youâd do anything for me, wouldnât you?â She lifts up, then drops back down, harder this time, and you groan loud, hands sliding to her ass, squeezing, trying to pull her in deeper.
âAnything,â you pant, staring up at her, completely fucking surrendered. âYouâve got meâfuck, youâve always had me.â Sheâs riding you now, steady and relentless, her pussy gripping you so tight itâs almost too much, cream leaking out, smearing your hips as she moves. Her thighs flex, muscles working, and youâre just holding on, letting her set the pace, letting her use you.
âThatâs right,â she growls, leaning down closer, her voice rough against your ear. âYouâre mineâmy good little boy, letting me fuck you like this. No one else gets this, you hear me? Just me.â She speeds up, slamming down harder, and youâre a messâmoaning, hips bucking up to meet her, but sheâs in charge, pinning you down with her weight, her hands digging into your shoulders.
âFuck, Yujinâmommy, please,â you whimper, and she grins, wild and triumphant, loving how youâre breaking under her. She straightens up, sitting back, bouncing now, her breasts swaying with every thrust, those piercings glinting, and youâre just watching, worshiping, hands roaming her bodyâher thighs, her ass, her tummyâanywhere you can reach.
âKeep saying it,â she demands, voice sharp, hips grinding down, working your cock so deep youâre seeing stars. âCall me that againâtell me who you belong to.â
âMommy,â you moan, hands gripping her ass tighter, feeling her clench around you, wet and filthy and so fucking good. âI belong to youâonly you. Fuck, Yujin, Iâm yours.â
âDamn right,â she snarls, and sheâs moving faster now, slamming down onto you, the bed creaking, her pussy soaking you, dripping down your thighs. âGonna fuck you âtil you canât think straightââtil all you know is me.â Sheâs relentless, dominant, and youâre surrendering completely, lost in her rhythm, in her heat, in the way sheâs taking you apart piece by piece. Youâre hers, and sheâs proving it, and all you can do is moan and hold on as she rides you into oblivion.
Yujinâs still riding you, hips slamming down with that steady, punishing rhythm thatâs got your whole body buzzing, the bedframe creaking like itâs about to give out. Sheâs in total control, her pussy gripping you tight, wet and hot, cream dripping down your cock, pooling on your hips. Youâre a fucking wreck beneath herâmoaning, hands roaming her body, completely surrendered to the way sheâs owning you. Then she shifts, leaning forward, her face hovering just above yours, close enough that you can feel her breath on your lips.
Her eyes lock onto yours, dark and commanding, and one hand slides up your chest to your throat. She wraps her fingers around your neckânot hard, but firm enough to make your pulse jump under her grip. âOpen your mouth,â she orders, voice low and sharp, like sheâs daring you to disobey. You donât even think about itâyour lips part fast, jaw slack, ready for whatever sheâs got.
She smirks, pleased, and leans in closer, tilting her head just so. Then she lets it happenâspit pooling on her tongue before she lets it drip, slow and deliberate, right into your waiting mouth. Itâs warm, slick, landing on your tongue, and you shudder, tasting her, feeling it slide down your throat as you swallow. Itâs filthy, raw, and itâs got your dick throbbing even harder inside her. Before you can even process it, she crashes her lips onto yours, kissing you hard and messyâtongue diving in, mixing her spit with yours, her teeth grazing your lip like sheâs claiming you all over again.
She doesnât stop riding youânot for a secondâhips rolling, grinding, keeping you pinned beneath her as her mouth moves against yours. Youâre drowning in itâher taste, her heat, the way sheâs squeezing your neck just enough to make your head spin. Your hands slide up her body, desperate for more, landing on her breasts. You squeeze, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, and she gasps into your mouth, a sharp, sweet moan breaking free. Those piercings make her so damn sensitive, and you can feel itâthe way her body reacts, the hitch in her breath, the way her pussy clenches tighter around you.
âFuck, babe,â she mutters against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you, her hand still on your throat, thumb brushing your jaw. âYouâre so fucking goodâplaying with my tits like that.â Sheâs still moving, hips circling, riding you deep, and you squeeze again, harder this time, rolling your thumbs over her nipples, tugging lightly at the piercings. She moans again, louder, sweeter, her dom edge cracking just a little as the sensitivity hits her full force.
âShit, that feelsâmmphâso good,â she groans, head tipping back for a second, exposing her neck as she rides you, her hand loosening on your throat but still resting there, keeping you in check. Youâre obsessedâhands kneading her breasts, feeling the weight of them, the way they bounce with every thrust she makes. Her nipples are hard against your palms, the piercings cool and firm, and you pinch them lightly, just to hear that sound againâthat soft, desperate moan that slips out of her.
âYou like that, huh?â you rasp, voice hoarse, watching her unravel a little, your hands working her over as she fucks you. âSo sensitive, mommyâfuck, youâre so hot.â
âDonât get cocky,â she snaps, but itâs breathy, half-lost in the pleasure, and she squeezes your neck again, leaning down to kiss you rough, shutting you up. Her tongueâs aggressive, licking into your mouth, tasting her own spit still lingering there, and you groan, meeting her halfway, kissing her back like youâre starving for it. All the while, sheâs riding you hard, pussy soaking you, tight and slick, driving you insaneâbut youâre not cumming yet, not until she says so. Sheâs got you locked down, and youâre loving every fucking second of it.
You keep playing with her breasts, squeezing, teasing, rolling her nipples between your fingers, and sheâs melting into itâmoaning into your mouth, her hips stuttering just a little as the sensitivity catches her off guard again. âFuckâbabe, youâre gonna make me lose it,â she gasps, pulling back, her lips swollen, eyes dark and wild. âKeep touching me like thatâdonât stop.â
âNever,â you mutter, hands roaming her chest, obsessed with how she feelsâsoft and heavy, the piercings adding this edge thatâs got you hooked. Sheâs still in charge, still dominating you, but you can feel her slipping, her moans getting louder, her pussy fluttering around your cock with every move. Youâre surrendered, completelyâhands worshiping her, body pinned beneath her, just taking it, letting her ride you into the fucking ground.
Yujinâs riding you like sheâs lost her damn mind, hips snapping down faster now, harder, like sheâs chasing something she canât quite reach. The bedâs groaning under the pressure, sheets tangled around your legs, and the roomâs thick with the smell of sexâsweat, her, you. Sheâs a fucking vision above you, hair wild, skin flushed, those pierced nipples bouncing with every thrust. Her pussyâs soaked, gripping you tight, slick and creamy, and youâre so deep inside her itâs like sheâs pulling you in, refusing to let go.
She leans forward, her breath hot against your face, and you catch the shiftâher dom edge is cracking, slipping into something rawer, needier. âFuck, babe,â she pants, voice shaky, her hand sliding from your neck to brace against your chest. âYou feel so fucking goodâdonât stop touching me.â Her thighs are trembling, muscles flexing as she grinds down, and you can feel her getting close, that desperate edge creeping in.
You donât waste a secondâyour mouth latches onto her breast, lips closing around her nipple, the cool metal of her piercing pressing against your tongue. You suck hard, flicking it with the tip, and she gasps, loud and sharp, her whole body jerking against you. âShitâyes, like that,â she moans, her voice breaking, hips stuttering as she rides you even faster. The sensitivityâs killing her, you can tellâthose piercings amplifying every move, every graze of your teeth, and sheâs losing it, moaning louder, more demanding, like she canât get enough.
âGoddamn, youâre so fucking sensitive,â you mutter against her skin, switching to the other breast, sucking just as hard, your hand squeezing the one you left behind. She whimpers, sweet and needy, and itâs got you reelingâyour dick throbs inside her, the heat and pressure building fast. Her pussyâs squeezing you so nice, wet and tight, and youâre right on the edge, barely holding it together.
âFuckâIâm close,â she gasps, leaning down, her forehead pressing against yours, her eyes half-lidded and wild. âYouâre close too, huh? I can feel itâyour cockâs fucking pulsing.â Sheâs panting now, her breath hitching with every thrust, and you nod, words caught in your throat because yeah, youâre right there with her, teetering on the brink.
âCum with me,â she says, voice dropping low, almost a growl, her hips slamming down mercilessly. âWant you to cum inside meâgive me a creampie, babe. Fill me up.â And fuck, thatâs hotâyour ex never let you, always made you pull out, but Yujin? Sheâs begging for it, demanding it, and itâs driving you insane. âYou want that?â she asks, smirking even as sheâs falling apart. âWanna pump me full?â
âHell yeah,â you groan, hands gripping her hips now, pulling her down harder, your voice rough and desperate. âFuck, Yujin, Iâd give you anythingâgonna fill you up so good.â She moans at that, loud and needy, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice, and you know itâs comingâboth of you, barreling toward it together.
Sheâs relentless now, riding you fast, wild, her hips rolling and grinding like sheâs trying to milk you dry. âCome on, babeâcum for mommy,â she pants, voice strained, her nails digging into your chest. âGive it to meânow.â Her pussyâs squeezing you so tight itâs almost painful, wet and hot and pulsing, and you canât hold back anymoreâyour whole body locks up, a hoarse âFuck!â ripping out of you as you cum, hard and deep inside her.
The second she feels itâyour hot, thick cum spilling into herâsheâs done for. âShitâyes!â she cries, her voice breaking into this gorgeous, desperate moan as she cums too, her pussy clenching around you, sucking you in deeper. You can feel itâthe way your load pumps into her, the way her walls flutter around you, taking it all, and itâs fucking beautiful. She keeps riding you, shaking, her hips jerking as the orgasm rips through her, and youâre gasping, overwhelmed, watching her fall apart on top of you.
âFuck, Yujin,â you mutter, voice wrecked, hands sliding up to her waist as she slows, still rocking against you, milking every last drop. Her pussyâs dripping now, a mix of her cream and your cum leaking out, smearing across your hips, and sheâs trembling, chest heaving, those sweet little moans spilling from her lips as she rides out the aftershocks.
She collapses onto you, heavy and warm, her body pressing you into the mattress, her head resting on your shoulder. Youâre both panting, sweaty, and you can feel her heartbeat against your chest, fast and wild like yours. Your hands roam her back, tracing the curve of her spine, and youâre still inside her, still hard, her pussy pulsing faintly around you. For a minute, itâs just thatâthe quiet, the closeness, the rain tapping the windowâand then you open your mouth, the words slipping out before you can stop them.
âI love you,â you say, soft and raw. Itâs not planned, just spills out, and you feel itâhow much you mean it, how much sheâs got you twisted up inside.
She lifts her head, slow, looking at you with those dark, sharp eyes, and for a second you think maybe you fucked up, said too much. But then she smilesâthose dimples popping, soft and realâand itâs like a weight lifts off you. âI love you too,â she says, voice quiet but steady, leaning down to kiss you, slow and deep, her lips lingering against yours. âYouâre mine, you know that? All fucking mine.â
Itâs intenseâromantic and possessive all at once, and it hits you hard, makes your chest tighten. âYeah,â you mutter, hands tightening on her hips, pulling her closer even though sheâs already plastered against you. âYours. Always have been.â And itâs trueâsheâs got you wrapped around her finger, always did, and the idea that a girl like her, this fucking goddess, wants you? Itâs insane, a damn miracle, and drives you up the wall.
Then she shifts, slow and deliberate, lifting herself off you with a wet, filthy sound as your cock slips free, still hard, glistening with her cum and yours. She glances down at it, smirking like sheâs proud of the mess sheâs made, then slides off the bed, standing tall and beckoning you with a lazy flick of her hand.
âCâmon, babe,â she says, voice hoarse but dripping with that dom edge, her dimples flashing as she grins. âGet up. Weâre not doneâgot something else for you.â Her thighs flex as she moves, slick and shiny from the orgasm, and youâre already stumbling out of bed after her, legs shaky but too fucking hooked to care.
She turns, facing you, and steps closeâreal closeâher chest brushing yours, her breath hot on your neck. Then she shifts, spinning around so her backâs to you, ass pressing against your hips, and fuck, the viewâthose long, juicy thighs, thick and glistening, still wet from everything you just did. She looks over her shoulder, smirking, and reaches back, grabbing your cock with one hand, guiding it right between her legs. âStand still,â she murmurs, voice low and teasing, as she closes her thighs around you, trapping you there.
âShit,â you groan, hands flying to her hips on instinct, feeling the soft, warm flesh squeeze your dick tight. Her thighs are soakedâyour cum, hers, all mixed together, slick and messyâand itâs fucking perfect. She starts moving, slow and sensual, sliding her thighs back and forth, and itâs like nothing elseâsoft, juicy, gripping you just right. âYujinâfuck, that feels so good,â you mutter, voice rough, already half-lost in it.
âYeah?â she says, glancing back, her voice dripping with dirty satisfaction. âYou like this, huh? My thighs fucking youâlook at you, babe, already a mess again.â She tightens them, squeezing harder, and you hiss, hips twitching as the pressure hits just right. Her thighs are long, wrapping you up completely, and the way they slide, slow and deliberate, wet and warm, itâs got your head spinning.
âGoddamn, youâre unreal,â you pant, hands sliding down to grip her hips tighter, feeling the muscle flex under your fingers as she works you over. âMissed these thighsâfuck, theyâre so soft, so juicy.â Youâre babbling now, too caught up to care, and she laughs, low and smug, loving how youâre falling apart.
âThought youâd like it,â she says, voice husky, picking up the pace just a little, her thighs gliding over your cock, slick and tight. âGonna keep you right here, babeânice and cozy between mommyâs legs. You love that, donât you? Trapped like my good little boy.â Her words are filthy, possessive, and itâs lighting you up, every syllable sinking into you, making you harder, needier.
âFuck yeah,â you groan, leaning into her, your chest pressing against her back, hands roaming her sides, her ass, anywhere you can reach. âLove itâlove you, Yujin. Youâre fucking killing me.â Your dickâs throbbing, slick with her juices, and the way sheâs got you locked between her thighs, itâs slow tortureâsensual as hell, every slide dragging you closer to the edge but not quite there.
She tilts her head back, resting it against your shoulder, and you can feel her smirk, feel the heat of her skin against yours. âPoor thing,â she teases, voice all mock sympathy as she squeezes her thighs again, making you curse under your breath. âCanât get enough of me, can you? Bet youâd stay like this all night if I let youâfucking my thighs âtil youâre begging.â
âPlease,â you mutter, half-joking, half-desperate, your hands digging into her hips, pulling her back so your cock slides deeper between her legs. âIâd fucking beg for itâyou know I would.â Sheâs got you so wound up, the softness of her thighs, the wetness still clinging to them, itâs unreal, and youâre losing yourself in it, in her.
âDirty boy,â she murmurs, voice low and pleased, her thighs tightening again as she moves, slow and deliberate, dragging it out. âLook at usâboth dripping, all messy from earlier, and youâre still so fucking hard for me. Youâre obsessed, babeâfucking obsessed with your mommy.â She rolls her hips just a little, enough to make her thighs shift, and you moan, loud and shameless, because yeah, sheâs rightâyou are.
âFuck, Yujinâcanât help it,â you say, voice wrecked, leaning forward to kiss her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat. âYouâre so hotâso fucking perfect. These thighsâshit, Iâd die right here.â Your hands slide up, cupping her ass, squeezing, and she sighs, soft and sweet, like sheâs enjoying it just as much.
âMm, keep talking,â she says, voice dipping lower, her thighs sliding faster now, still tight, still wet, the friction building slow and steady. âTell me how much you love itâhow much you love me.â Sheâs demanding, controlling, and youâre giving in, every word spilling out raw and unfiltered.
âLove you so fucking much,â you pant, hands roaming her body, fingers sinking into her flesh as she works you over. âLove these thighsâlove how they feel, how theyâre squeezing me. Love your pussy, your ass, every fucking inch of you. Youâre a goddess, Yujinâmy goddess. Canât believe youâre mine.â Your lips brush her shoulder, her neck, needy little kisses as your cock throbs between her legs.
She moans, soft and low, her thighs trembling slightly as she keeps going, the sound of her skin against yours wet and filthy. âFuck, babeâthatâs it,â she says, voice breaking a little, her dom edge softening into something needy. âKeep telling meâkeep worshiping me. Youâre so good at itâmy perfect boy.â She tightens her thighs again, slowing down just to tease, and you whimper, hips jerking, desperate for more.
âShit, youâre amazing,â you mutter, voice hoarse, hands sliding up to her waist, pulling her back against you as she moves. âSo fucking sexyâso strong. Missed thisâmissed you. Youâve got me so fucked up, Yujinâcanât think about anything else.â Your dickâs sliding between her thighs, slow and sensual, and itâs driving you insane, the softness, the warmth, the way sheâs got you locked in.
âGood,â she growls, picking up the pace a little, her thighs flexing as she squeezes you tighter. âThatâs how it should beâyou thinking about me, needing me. No one else gets thisâgets youâlike I do. Youâre mine, babeâfucking mine.â
âYeahâyours,â you gasp, hands gripping her harder, feeling the tension building, your cock throbbing with every slide. âAlways yoursâfuck, Yujin, Iâd do anything for you.â Sheâs got you so close, the slow drag of her thighs, the wetness still clinging to her skin, itâs all too much, but you donât want it to endâyou want to stay here, wrapped up in her, forever.
She turns her head slightly, lips brushing your jaw, her breath hot and uneven. âYouâre so fucking cute when youâre wrecked like this,â she murmurs, voice soft but still commanding. âAll needy and hard for meâbet youâd cum right now if I told you to, huh?â
âFuck, yeah,â you groan, hips twitching, your dick pulsing between her thighs as she keeps that tight, sensual grip. âJust say itâplease, mommy, tell me.â Youâre begging now, shameless, and she laughs, low and dirty, loving how youâre breaking under her.
âNot yet,â she says, voice firm, slowing her movements just enough to keep you on the edge. âGonna make you waitâgonna make you earn it. Youâre gonna cum when I say, and not a fucking second before.â Her thighs squeeze again, and you moan, loud and ragged, your hands sliding up to her back, clutching her like sheâs the only thing keeping you upright.
âShitâplease, Yujin,â you mutter, voice cracking, your whole body trembling as she keeps you there, teetering. âYouâre so fucking goodâso perfect. Love youâfuck, I love you so much.â Itâs spilling out, raw and desperate, and she hums, pleased, her thighs sliding slow and deliberate, keeping you locked in that sweet, torturous rhythm.
âLove you too, babe,â she whispers, turning her head to kiss you, slow and deep, her tongue teasing yours as she keeps fucking you with her thighs. âMy good boyâmy perfect little toy. Gonna take care of youâgonna give you everything.â
Yujinâs got you pinned in this tight, sensual cocoon of her thighs, and itâs like sheâs crafted this moment just to drive you fucking insane. Your dickâs rubbing right up against her pussy nowânot inside, just grazing her lips, teasing her clit with every passâand sheâs moaning, soft and low, this needy little sound thatâs got your head spinning. The wetness of her, the heat, itâs all mixing with your cum from before, dripping down between her thighs, making everything so goddamn slippery and filthy. Youâre a mess, hands shaking, and they fly up to her breasts on instinct, fingers sinking into that soft, sensitive flesh.
âFuck, babe,â she groans, her voice rough and thick with pleasure as you squeeze her tits, thumbs brushing over those pierced nipples that make her whole body jolt. âYeahâkeep doing that, keep touching me.â Her thighs tighten even more, squeezing your cock harder, and you can feel her pussy lips parting slightly, your shaft sliding right along her slit, catching every bit of her slickness. Sheâs dripping againâher arousal mixing with the cum leaking out of youâand itâs driving you wild, the way sheâs grinding against you, her moans syncing up with every slow, sensual drag.
Your hands knead her breasts, rougher now, pinching those sensitive nipples just to hear her gasp, and sheâs losing itâher dom edge softening into something raw and desperate. âShitâyour cock feels so good,â she mutters, head tilting back against your shoulder, her hair sticking to your sweaty skin. âRubbing me just rightâfuck, I could cum like this.â She speeds up, thighs working you faster, wet and messy, and youâre groaning, hips bucking up to meet her, your dick throbbing so hard itâs almost painful. The frictionâs intense, her pussy lips slick and hot, sliding over you, and youâre leaking a lot nowâprecum oozing out, dripping down her thighs, mixing with everything else. She glances down, sees it, and moans louder, voice breaking into this dirty little laugh.
âGoddamn, babeâlook at that,â she says, panting, her thighs squeezing tighter as she watches your cum run down her legs. âLeaking all over meâfucking love that. Youâre such a mess for me, huh?â Sheâs reveling in it, the way youâre losing control, the way sheâs got you spilling without even cumming yet, and itâs pushing her harder, her movements getting sloppier, more frantic. âGonna milk you dry like thisâfuck, youâre so hard still.â Her words are raw, filthy, and itâs got you reeling, hands gripping her tits, thumbs rolling over her piercings again just to hear that sweet, needy moan spill out of her.
âFuck, Yujinâdonât stop,â as your hips jerk, chasing the rhythm sheâs setting. Sheâs moaning too, her pussy quivering against your cock, and you can feel itâsheâs close, teetering on the edge just from this teasing, grinding tightjob. But then she shifts, pulling away just when you think sheâs about to lose it, and you groan, half in protest, half in desperation. She turns her head, smirking down at you, her eyes dark and wild. âNot yet,â she says, voice hoarse but firm. âWeâre switching it up.â
Before you can even process it, sheâs sliding off you, your cock slick and shiny from her thighs, still leaking, still aching. She grabs your arm, tugging you gently but with that no-bullshit strength, and you follow, stumbling to the edge of the bed. You sit there, legs spread, chest heaving, and she steps right up between them, turning so her backâs to you again. âStay right there,â she murmurs, glancing over her shoulder with that cocky little grin, dimples flashing, and youâre nodding, too wrecked to argue.
She grabs your cock, firm and sure, giving it a slow stroke that makes you hiss, your hands flying to her hips. Then she lines you up, her pussy hovering just above youâwet, creamy, glisteningâand sinks down, slow and deliberate, taking you in inch by fucking inch. You both sigh, loud and shaky, as she settles onto your lap, her ass pressed tight against your hips, your cock buried deep inside her. âFuck,â you groan, head tipping back, hands gripping her waist like youâre afraid sheâll vanish again. âYouâreâso fucking tight, Yujin.â
âYeah?â she says, starting to moveâsmall bounces at first, testing you, her pussy squeezing you so good itâs got your eyes rolling back. âI love this cock stretching me out, babe.â Sheâs still got her back to you, and itâs a goddamn sightâher ass bouncing, her thighs flexing, all that juicy thickness working you over as she rides you reverse. Your hands slide down, cupping her ass, squeezing, and she moans, picking up the pace, slamming down harder now.
âShitâlook at you,â you mutter, voice rough, watching her move, the way her pussy swallows you whole, creamy and dripping, leaving a slick ring around your base. âRiding me like a fucking proâfuck, youâre so hot.â Youâre babbling, too caught up to care, and she loves itâyou can tell by the way she moans, louder, needier, her hips rolling as she bounces, driving you deeper with every drop.
âGonna fuck you senseless,â she gasps, hands bracing on your knees now for leverage, her body rocking back against you, fast and filthy. âMy good boyâtaking it so well, letting me use you like this.â Her pussyâs gripping you tight, pulsing, and youâre groaning with every thrust, your hands roaming her ass, her thighs, anywhere you can reach. Sheâs relentless, ass slapping against your hips, the wet sound of her pussy on your cock filling the room, and itâs got you on fire, every nerve screaming for more.
âFuck, Yujinâharder,â you growl, hands digging into her flesh, pulling her down rougher, and she obligesâjust slams onto you, her moans turning into these sweet, broken little cries. âLove thisâlove you,â you mutter, half-aware, your dick throbbing inside her, leaking more cum now, dripping out with every bounce. Sheâs feeling it tooâher pussyâs quivering, soaking you, and she glances back, smirking even as sheâs panting.
âLove me, huh?â she teases, voice breathy, slowing down just enough to grind her hips, dragging your cock inside her slow and deep. âKeep saying itâfucking love hearing it.â Sheâs got you pinned, emotionally, physically, her pussy squeezing you so tight youâre seeing stars.
âLove youâfuck, I love you so much,â you say, voice hoarse, hands sliding up to her waist, guiding her as she picks up speed again. âYouâre everythingâfucking everything.â She moans at that, loud and sweet, her pussy clenching, and youâre both a messâsweaty, sticky, her thighs slick with cum and arousal, your cock leaking inside her, making every thrust wetter, sloppier.
Sheâs bouncing on you now, harder, faster, like sheâs on a fucking mission, her pussy gripping you so tight itâs like sheâs trying to wring you out. Sheâs not slowing downâhell noâshe shifts her hand down between her legs, fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in quick, sloppy circles. âFuck, babe,â she pants, voice high and shaky, her head tipping back so her hair brushes your chest. âGonna cumâneed it so badâgonna cum all over your cock.â Her desperationâs thick, raw.
Sheâs wild now, moaning like sheâs lost it, her thighs trembling, her pussy soaking youâwet, creamy, dripping down your shaft as she rides you. âShitâlook at me,â she gasps, glancing back over her shoulder, her eyes dark and frantic, those dimples nowhere in sight nowâjust pure, unfiltered need. âYou feel that? How fucking wet I am? All for youâfuck, you drive me insane.â Her fingers are working her clit faster, her moans turning into these sharp, needy little cries, and youâre just holding on, groaning, your dick throbbing inside her, so close but not there yet because sheâs got you under her spell, waiting for her to call the shots.
âGoddamn, Yujin,â you mutter, voice rough, hands digging into her hips as she slams down, over and over, her ass jiggling against you, the wet slap of her skin on yours filling the room. âYouâre so fucking hotâride me, fuck, donât stop.â Sheâs relentless, her pussy squeezing you tighter with every bounce, her fingers rubbing herself sloppy and fast, and you can feel itâher walls fluttering, her body shaking, sheâs right on the edge. âCum for me,â you growl, hands sliding up to grip her waist, pulling her down harder. âWanna feel itâcâmon, mommy, soak me.â
That does itâshe snaps, her whole body locking up as she cums, hard and loud, a broken âFuckâbabe!â ripping out of her as her pussy clamps down on you like a vice, pulsing, gushing, her thighs quaking against yours. Sheâs shaking, gasping, her fingers still circling her clit as she rides it out, and holy shit, the way she squeezes youâitâs intense, almost too much, your cock leaking more, dripping inside her, but you hold it together, barely. Sheâs moaning, desperate and sweet, her bounces turning erratic, sloppy, like sheâs milking every last shudder out of herself, and youâre just watching, mesmerized, your hands roaming her ass, her back, feeling her unravel.
âShit,â she pants, slowing down, her chest heaving as she leans back against you, her pussy still twitching around your cock. âThat wasâfuck, so good.â Sheâs trembling, catching her breath, but then she turns her head, looks at you with those wild eyes, and you know sheâs not doneâsheâs got more in her. âYouâre close too, huh?â she says, voice ragged but teasing, her hand sliding down to where youâre still buried inside her, feeling how hard you are. âI can tellâfuck, youâre dying to cum, arenât you?â
âYeah,â you groan, hips twitching up into her, your voice wrecked. âSo fucking closeâYujin, Iâm gonnaââ You canât even finish, too wound up, and she grins, wicked and sharp, sliding off your lap in one smooth move. Your cock slips free, slick and shiny, still leaking, and she drops to her knees in front of you, grabbing it with both hands before you can even catch your breath.
âGive it to me,â she says, stroking you fast, her hands tight and slippery from all the mess. âCum in my mouthâwant it all over my tongue, babe. Câmon, give it to mommy.â Sheâs pumping you now, relentless, her grip firm, and youâre moaning loud, no holding back, the sound ripping out of you as your hands fly to her hair, gripping, guiding her. Sheâs so fucking goodâtoo goodâher hands working you like sheâs done it a thousand times, and the way sheâs looking up at you, eyes dark and hungry, begging for it, itâs shredding you.
âFuckâplease, Yujin,â you gasp, voice breaking, your hips bucking as she strokes faster, her tongue darting out to teased the tip, flicking over it, salty and wet. âGonna cumâshit, Iâm gonna cum so hard.â Sheâs moaning now, soft little hums against your cock, egging you on, and sheâs beggingâbeggingâher voice dripping with lust. âDo itâcum for me, babeâfucking cum, I need it.â
Thatâs itâyouâre gone, groaning loud and ragged as your cock pulses, the first spurt hitting her tongue, hot and thick, and she takes it, opening her mouth wider, stroking you through it. âFuckâyes!â you mutter, hips jerking, and sheâs pumping you, milking you, cum spilling outâspurt after spurt, more than you thought you had left after all that leaking. Itâs a lot, coating her tongue, dripping from her lips, and she doesnât stop, hands sliding, squeezing every last drop out of you until youâre shaking, gasping, your cock twitching, hypersensitive as hell.
She pulls back, slow and deliberate, her tongue curling out to show youâwhite and thick, pooled there, a fucking messâand youâre just staring, chest heaving, completely wrecked. âLook at that,â she murmurs, smirking, then closes her mouth, swallowing it down slow, savoring it like itâs some gourmet shit. She leans in after, licking the tip of your cockâsoft, careful, but itâs so sensitive you flinch anyway, a shaky âFuck, Yujinâ slipping out as she cleans you up, every swipe of her tongue making you twitch.
She stands then, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning wideâthose dimples popping, but thereâs nothing innocent about her now. Youâre still gasping, pleasure buzzing through you, when she steps close, grabbing your waist, pulling you flush against her. Her skinâs hot, sticky with sweat and cum, and sheâs dominatingâher grip firm, her eyes locking onto yours like sheâs staking a claim all over again. âYouâre mine,â she says, voice low, intense, her fingers digging into your sides. âOfficiallyâfucking mine. No thinking about other girls, no looking at them, nothing. Everything youâve gotâitâs for me now. Got it?â
You nod, fast, still too fucked out to argue, your hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer. âYeahâpromise,â you mutter, voice hoarse but sure. âAll yours, Yujinâno one else. Swear.â
Her grin softens, those dimples turning almost cute, and she leans in, kissing you deep, her tongue sweeping into your mouth, tasting you, tasting herself. âGood boy,â she whispers against your lips. âI love youâfuck, I really do.â
âLove you too,â you say back, raw and immediate, your hands tightening on her, pulling her in so thereâs no space between you. âSo fucking much, Yujinâyouâve got no idea.â Itâs intenseâthis pull between you, this messy, wild, overwhelming thingâand youâre both standing there, breathing hard, wrapped up in each other like nothing else exists.
She smirks again, that playful edge creeping back, her hands sliding down to your ass, squeezing. âOh, Iâve got some idea,â she teases, pressing herself against you, and fuck, youâre still half-hard, still twitchy from everything sheâs done. âYouâre crazy for meâand Iâm crazy for you. Weâre stuck like this, babeâdeal with it.â She laughs, low and dirty, and youâre grinning too, helpless, because yeahâyouâre in deep, and itâs exactly where you wanna be.
â
You stir awake, the kind of groggy wake-up where your limbs feel heavy and the worldâs still fuzzy, like youâre wading through a dream that hasnât quite let go. The roomâs bathed in this soft, gray light, the rain still pattering against the window in a slow, hypnotic rhythmâsame as yesterday, like the weatherâs stuck on repeat. You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes, and thatâs when you feel herâYujinâs stare, warm and steady, prickling your skin before you even turn your head. Sheâs right there, propped up on one elbow, lying on her side, and fuck, sheâs a visionâdangerous, sexy, like some kind of predator playing house. Just that tank top, white and worn-in, stretched thin over her chest so you can see the faint outline of her nipple piercings pushing against it, and these tiny panties, barely hanging onto her hips. Her hairâs a tangled mess, spilling over her shoulder, and sheâs got this lazy, smug smile, like sheâs already claimed the morningâand youâbefore youâve even had a chance to catch your breath.
âMorning, sleepyhead,â she says, voice low and scratchy, still thick with sleep but laced with that teasing edge sheâs got down to an art. She stretches, slow and deliberate, arching her back so the tank top rides up, showing off the smooth plane of her stomach, the dip of her navel, and youâre already hooked, eyes tracing every inch like you havenât seen it a hundred times before. âSlept like a fucking rock, huh? Guess I wore you out.â She slides closer, her bare leg brushing yours under the sheets, warm and soft, and itâs so easy, so natural, like sheâs picking up right where she left offâlike the months of chaos, the screaming matches, the way sheâd smashed a plate against the wall and told you youâd regret leaving, never happened.
âYeah,â you mutter, voice rough, still waking up as you shift to sit up a little, the sheets slipping down to your hips. âGuess I needed it.â You catch a glimpse of her thigh, thick and glistening faintly in the dim light, and thereâs this flash in your headâher voice, sharp and venomous, âYou think you can do better? Good fucking luck,â the way her eyes had burned with something wild, something that made your stomach twist with fear and want all at once. But now sheâs here, soft and close, her hand already sliding up your arm, fingers curling around your bicep like sheâs testing her grip, and itâs hard to hold onto that memory when sheâs looking at you like thisâlike youâre hers, and sheâs never doubted it.
She leans in, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle, then pulls back, smirking as she swings her legs off the bed. âCâmon, letâs get coffeeârainâs not stopping, so weâre staying in. My rules.â Sheâs up now, padding across the hardwood, her tank top barely covering her ass, those panties hugging her hips just right, and youâre watching, shameless, because how could you not? She glances back over her shoulder, catching you staring, and her smirk turns sharper, dimples flashing like a trap snapping shut. âLike the view? Better get used to itâgonna be seeing a lot of me around here.â
You follow, slower, your feet hitting the cold floor as you drag yourself out of bed, boxers hanging low on your hips, still half-dazed from sleep and her. The apartment smells faintly of last nightâsweat, her perfume, something musky and lived-inâand the rainâs a dull roar outside, sealing you in this little bubble with her. Sheâs already in the kitchen, rummaging through your cabinets like she owns them, pulling out mugs, coffee grounds, moving with this easy confidence. âFound the good shit,â she says, holding up the bag of beans youâd forgotten about, some overpriced blend youâd bought on a whim. âYouâve been holding out on meâthought you were all instant crap now.â
âNah, just lazy,â you say, leaning against the counter, arms crossed as you watch her work the coffee maker like itâs hers. Sheâs humming under her breath, some tune you donât recognize, and itâs so domestic, so fucking normal, itâs messing with youâbecause the last time you saw her, she was screaming, âYouâll come crawling back, watch,â her voice cracking as sheâd shoved your stuff into a bag, tears streaking her face. Now sheâs here, barefoot, pouring water into the machine, her tank top slipping off one shoulder, and itâs like that never happenedâlike youâre picking up from some perfect moment that never broke.
She turns, catching your eye, and steps closer, sliding her hands up your chest, fingers brushing your collarbone. âYouâre quiet,â she murmurs, tilting her head, her breath warm against your jaw. âWhatâs up? Thinking about how lucky you are to have me back?â Sheâs teasing, but thereâs this weight in her words, this quiet insistence, and you feel itâthis flicker of something off, something that makes your throat tighten. But then she kisses you, soft and slow, her lips tasting faintly of toothpaste, and itâs gone, washed away by the heat of her mouth, the way her body presses into yours.
âLucky as hell,â you say, forcing a grin, your hands finding her hips, sliding under the tank top to feel the bare skin of her waist. âStill canât believe youâre hereâthought Iâd wake up and youâd be a ghost.â Itâs half a joke, half true, and she laughs, soft and low, pulling back to grab the mugs as the coffee maker gurgles, filling the room with that rich, bitter smell.
âNot a ghost,â she says, handing you a mug, black and steaming, her fingers brushing yours as she does. âReal as fuckâsticking around this time.â She takes a sip, leaning against the counter opposite you, her legs crossed at the ankles, and itâs a pictureâher in your kitchen, rain streaking the windows, the world outside blurry and distant. âGonna make this place mine againâyou cool with that?â
âYeah,â you say, sipping your coffee, the heat biting your tongue as you watch her over the rim. âFeels rightâhaving you here.â And it doesâtoo right, maybe, because thereâs this quiet hum in your head, this shadow of her voice, âYouâre nothing without me,â the way sheâd cried and clung to you after the fights, promising itâd be different, only to blow up again days later. But now sheâs calm, sipping coffee, her tank top slipping down one shoulder, her eyes warm and steady, and itâs easy to shove that noise down, to let the moment wrap around you like a blanket.
She sets her mug down, stepping closer again, her hands sliding up your arms, resting on your shoulders. âGood,â she murmurs, kissing you again, quick this time, her lips soft and familiar. âCause Iâm not letting you out of my sightâlazy day, just us. Rainâs got us trapped anyway.â She pulls you toward the couch, tugging you down with her, and you go, coffee abandoned on the counter, your body sinking into the cushions as she curls up against you, her head on your chest, one leg slung over yours like sheâs anchoring you there.
âLove this,â she says, voice muffled against your shirt, her fingers tracing lazy lines on your stomach. âYou and meâchill, no bullshit. Missed itâmissed you.â She tilts her head up, smiling, those dimples making her look almost sweet, almost innocent, and your chest tightensâlove, yeah, but something else too, something you canât name. âYouâre not gonna fuck this up again, right?â she teases, but her eyes linger, searching, and you feel itâthis quiet pressure, this need to say what she wants to hear.
âNah,â you say, brushing her hair back, your hand resting on her neck, thumb grazing her pulse. âNot letting you goâlove you too much.â Itâs true, raw, spilling out easy, and she hums, satisfied, nestling closer, her body warm and solid against you. The rain keeps falling, a steady drone, and youâre here, tangled up with her, the past a faint echo you can barely hear over her breathing. Sheâs got youâcompletelyâand youâre telling yourself itâs luck, pure fucking luck, that someone like herâsharp, beautiful, unstoppableâwants you this bad, needs you this close. And sheâs smiling, marking you with every touch, every word, like sheâs never been anything but yours.
#yujin ive#yujin smut#yujin x reader#kpop m!reader#kpop male reader#kpop smut#kpop male oc#m!reader#kpop gg smut#ive yujin#ive yujin smut#Yujin x male reader
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Undercover
Summary: Natasha and you play a happy couple for an undercover mission.
Natasha Romanoff x F!R
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Itâs mortifying.
As you lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, the moment replays in your head over and over and over again. How you wish you had an off switch for your brain.
This is supposed to be an undercover mission, and yet you canât keep your true feelings hidden from Natasha.
Undercover as a married couple, no less.
Today, while you were sitting in the living room of your ânewlywed homeâ, reading a book, Natasha approached you. Her hand rested on your shoulder.
âIâm going out for a runâ she had said. You nodded absentmindedly, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.
âIâll start dinner nowâ
And it wasnât until you heard the door shut, that you snapped out of it.
You didnât have to pretend inside the house. There was absolutely no reason for you to kiss any part of her like that, no one was watching.
Your cheeks flushed and your palms began to sweat. Feeling stupid and exposed, you tried to cook dinner, finding it hard to focus on what to do.
If Natasha noticed the slightly burned meatloaf, she didnât comment on it. Even as you downed your wine quickly and poured yourself more, she remained stoic and acted as usual.
The night went by in a blurr and now youâre staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Natasha is in the study, doing surveillance and thank God, because sharing a bed after what you did today?
Impossible.
How do I get myself in these situations?
â
âThe Maggiaâ Fury said, looking around the room. There were only five people there, which told you this was an important mission. âWhat do you know about it?â
âFamily of criminals, from Europe, mostly Italy. Loose alliance at that, each family just stays out of the otherâs wayâ you casually said. Hell, you could go on and on about them for much longer.
âSomeone does their homeworkâ Fury nodded.
âShow offâ Natasha leaned forward, whispering in your ear. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, but you tried your best to hide it.
You feared your best wasnât very good.
âTheir operations consist mostly of loan sharking, narcotics and prostituionâ Maria continued. âBut, we recently recieved intel that the family in New Jersey is playing something more dangerousâ
âPotentially, HYDRA and the smuggling of Triniumâ
âWhatâs Trinium?â Rogers, who had been following in silenece, finally intervened.
âIncredibly rare element and highly explosive if exposed to a special chargeâ
Of course, it was always about blowing something up.
âWeâve located the leaders of the Jersey family. You two will be sent immediately to start the undercover mission, as the timeline indicates that the purchase will happen in less than three months. Sorry for not getting you a gift, but your wedding was done in such a rushâ Fury slid down the files towards you and Natasha.
You took it and were about to hand it to Steve, since he was sitting behind you, but Fury just chuckled, shaking his head no.
Maria had to bite the inside of her cheek to not laugh at your shocked expression, while you turned to look at Natasha with wide eyes.
âOh, darling, Iâll make you so very happy!â
â
Just your luck, Natasha decides to stay and work from home on Friday. Your plans of eating junk food and wasting away watching reality tv to feel better after your slip up are down the drain.
Instead, you are out gardening. Itâs part of the cover, you insisted since you moved. What kind of person would not make an effort to improve their house? One they were planning on living in for years to come.
And truly, you had outdone yourself. In the month youâd spent here, the grass went from dry to green, all kinds of flowers blooming thanks to your hard work and the knowledge provided by years of helping your mother.
It doesnât matter if the sun is burning your skin or sweat is dripping down your back, you absolutely cannot spend the morning inside the house with the woman who you have a crush on, and who probably knows your true feelings now, thanks to that stupid, stupidâŠ
âHeyâ her voice snaps you back to reality, looking up to meet her green eyes, soft and gentle.
âHiâ you reply from your place in the ground, wiping your forehead. âWhatâs up?â
âYouâve been at it for hours now, and itâs getting too hot. Come get some restâ
âItâs fine, I just need toâŠâ
She calls your name, more of a plea than a warning not to argue with her and you sigh, standing up. As you go up the porch, she hands over a glass of cold lemonade and you take it, realising that you were very much in need of some refreshments.
âWhat are you doing?â you mutter when you put the glass down, and she takes her hands in yours.
âYouâve been acting strange since yesterdayâ
âNatashaâ
âDid you act on instinct?â she asks, her lips inches from yours.
âY-yesâ
âThatâs what a good agent does. You act natural. Itâs not something you put any effort in. You donât drop the cover under any circumstanceâ
She is throwing you a life line, a gracious way to salvage some of your dignity -if you have any left, that is- because you both know, you are not that good of an agent.
âSheâs walking towards the houseâ Natasha warns, your back to the street. You donât look behind you, allowing the redhead to pull you into a heated kiss that steals your breath.
âHey, neighborsâ
You turn around, Natashaâs hand falling to your lower back. Waving at Beatrice Costa, the both of you fake smiles. Itâs still hard to believe this regular looking woman is leading a criminal organization next to her husband.
âYour garden is looking spectacular!â she admires.
âThank you, Beatrice. Iâll stop by to give you some flowers when the hydrengeas bloomâ
âAs long as your wife doesnât get jealousâ the woman jokes, and you feel Natashaâs hand snaking around your middle, pulling you flush against her front.
âShe doesâ the redhead says in a teasing manner, making your neighbor/suspect laugh.
âAnyways, I came to invite you two over for dinner tomorrow. To thank you for last weekâ
âOh, it was no bother, reallyâ you say, smiling.
âI insist. Eight oâclock?â
âSounds greatâ you nod, and once she says her goodbyes, Natasha turns you around in her arms, still not letting go of your waist.
âSee? Itâs working. Youâre doing great. Nobody questions usâ she eases your nerves over what happened yesterday.
Nobody questions you because you are really in love with her, thatâs the truth.
âWhat are you doing?â you say, your breath hitching when she leans over, about to kiss you.
âSheâs still aroundâ Natasha says, letting you close the distance to meet her lips.
By the time she drags you back inside, so you can have lunch, the only thought in your head is the feel of her lips in yours.
â
It had been a simple ruse, so simple that it was a wonder it worked.
Natasha made sure Beatriceâs car would malfunction. She always parked outside, and you made sure to be Natashaâs lookout as she drained the battery.
Morning came, and true to her routine, the woman was ready to leave home when the luxurious Mercedes Benz refused to turn on. It just so happened that you were running by, and as any good neighbor would do, offered to help.
What a coincidence, your wife knew enough about cars to fix the issue and send the woman on her merry way.
Beatrice was too polite and too rich to waste the opportunity to thank you -and flaunt her wealth- so next morning she stopped by with a tiramisu from the most expensive bakery in town, to thank you both.
And fuck, it was good tiramisu.
Now, she would greet you and Natasha when either one of you would run past her house (part of your intelligence operations).
Four weeks after the start of the mission, and it had finally paid off, as you received an invitation into the lionâs den.
âSo, whatâs our game plan here?â you say, looking over yourself in the vanity mirror.
âEnjoy the eveningâ Natasha says, smiling at your reflection.
âWhat?â you turn to look at her, confused. âWeâre gonna be inside their house. We could bug itâ
âTheir phones are tapped. Thatâs all we need. And the manâs computer. But maybe Iâll excuse myself and break into his studyâ
âThatâs too dangerousâ you protest. Even if they act like normal people, theyâre life long criminals with an extensive network. And you donât feel prepared to take over anything if Natashaâs compromised. âCould you not?â
âIf you have any idea on how to hack into their financial system, sureâ
You huff, annoyed at her bored tone. As if sheâs not risking herself over something that can be done a million other ways.
âNat, I donât want anything bad happening to you. Weâll find another way, ok?â you insist, putting on your heels.
âOk, darlingâ she nods, as a spouse would do to calm their crazy wife and you glare, but take your win.
Without another word, you prepare to leave the room, when you feel her arms around your middle.
âWhat are youâŠ?â
âClothing tag was outâ she says, fixing your sweater. âThere. Perfectâ
Her words, accompanied by a squeeze to your stomach make your head fuzzy. Clearing your throat, you nod and go down the stairs, picking up a bottle of wine from the kitchen counter.
âTrust meâ you say when Natasha gives you an inquiring look. âReady to go?â
âAfter you, sweetheartâ
As you walk down the street to the Costa residence, Natasha takes your hand, running her thumb over the back of it. She might sense your nerves, or is apologizing for before. Either way, you keep a light conversation until she knocks on your suspectâs door, her arm firmly around your waist.
âWelcome!â Beatrice says, ushering you into her home. Itâs elegant and big, but not too flashy or pretentious. âAnd what do we have here?â
âJust a little gift. Itâs actually one of the bottles we got from our honeymoonâ you take the lead, your hand in Natashaâs as you navigate the luxurious home all the way to the dining room.
âOh, this is close to the place where my family is from originallyâ
Oh, what a shock. Itâs not like you know everything there is about the Maggia, along with the history of the Gulf of Naples.
While Beatrice goes to the kitchen to check on the food -made by their staff, of course- Natasha looks around the room. You know that inquiring look, as she evaluates every threat and possible complication should you be compromised.
To help her ease into the environment, you take her hand in yours, feeling less exposed because youâre in front of other people who should believe your relationship is real. The mission is the only way you can justify your desire to feel Natashaâs touch.
By the time Beatrice comes back, Alessandro is right behind her and he introduces himself. His clothes scream old money, and the watch on his wrist screams fucking loaded of ilegal money as well.
âThis wine is magnificentâ he comments when you sit down and begin to eat.
âLe Lune del Vesuvioâ you say, looking at Natasha across the table. âWe spent our honeymoon in Italy and I just had to drag Nat to Pompeii for a tourâ
âAre you familiar with the region?â Alessandro asks and you nod, having practiced everything.
âYes, I did my dissertation on cultural identity in Pompeiiâ
âSheâs a genius, my wifeâ Natasha says with a smile, impressed at how much detail youâre putting on everything to keep them engaged.
âWell, Beatriceâs family, the Fortunatos are from the same area. The Costas are from Sicily. So we are very happy to hear that you know it so wellâ
âHow did you two meet?â Beatrice pivots, and Natasha is happy to answer.
âI was working on a clientâs divorce settlement and needed an art expert. Y/N was the only one with the knowledge to help our lawfirm. A divorce brought us togetherâ she says, looking at you with a smile.
Such a romantic.
âOh, thatâs lovely. Well, not for the divorced couple. But not everyone can get a happy ending, I supposeâ Beatrice says.
Itâs your turn to ask the usual questions and Natasha acts surpirsed, following up the way any normal person would, as if you donât know every single detail about their lives and criminal record already.
When the conversation pivots to Alessandro, you perk up. This has proven to be the hardest part of the mission, as he keeps a tight leash on all their financial records through obscure third parties.
âYou know, I also teach some finance classes. Would you be open to giving a lecture on art appraising? I think itâs an interesting marketâ he turns to you.
âThat would be interestingâ you say, groaning internally. Now youâre gonna have to actually work on a presentation, for fuckâs sake. Nobody told you you were gonna be quizzed to this extent during the mission.
Natasha hides her smile with the glass of wine, and you kick her under the table. Her smile fades just a little, but you can still see the teasing in her eyes.
Sheâs having too much fun with this.
â
The next morning you wake up to a note from Natasha. Sheâs picking up a âspecialâ package, which means sheâs coordinating with Maria the next stage of the mission.
Youâre surprised to find a bouquet of flowers adorning the dining table.
Natasha is doing her share of the mission and you have to focus on yours, which is the fucking presentation. There better not be a Q&A session or youâll lose your damn mind.
Moving to the study that also works as a surveillance room, you pull out your computer and begin to work. To be fair, you enjoy art enough to know more about it than the regular person. You had also been in contact with appraisers and auction houses back in your Interpol days, as you tracked ilegal art dealers.
For obvious reasons, you canât mention that bit.
Youâve been working for a couple of hours when you hear the front door open, Natasha hurrying up the steps.
âHeyâ she says with a frown.
âEverything ok?â
âYou didnât answer my text. Have you even taken a break to eat?â she puts down a heavy box in front of you.
âSorry, I was preparing for the lectureâ
âI got you your favorite food for lunch. And did you see the bouquet?â Natasha insists.
âUh, I did⊠but is there a reason forâŠ?â
âYou seriously donât remember?â
âIs it our fake first date anniversary, baby?â you tease, leaning forward. Natashaâs so worked up it's almost comical.
âY/N, itâs your birthdayâ
âWhat?!â you turn to look at the calendar. âHoly crap, how could I have forgotten my own birthday?â
You are so focused on the mission, this completely slipped your mind. What were you supposed to do any way? Being undercover meant cutting off contact with the rest of the world. The timing sucks, but work is your priority right now.
âWork on that thing tomorrow. You should be resting and having a special dayâ
âNat, itâs fine. It wonât be the first or last birthday that Iâm stuck at workâ you sigh, rubbing your eyes.
âPlease?â she reaches for your hand, and the gesture is so gentle that your heart skips a beat. Natasha is very serious about taking the day off.
âOkâ you nod, and the hint of a smile can be seen on her face as you take her hand. She gets plates for the both of you and even agrees to watch Project Runway, which she loathes and you love. Without either one of you noticing, you end up across the couch, your legs on her lap.
âOur dinner reservation is at sevenâ she says, her hand going up and down your thigh.
âDinner?â
âWhat kind of wife would I be if I didnât take you to dinner?â Natasha smiles, making you blush.
âWell, no one really knows itâs my birthday, soâŠâ
You leave out the most obvious part of how her logic is flawed: you are not even married.
âI know itâs your birthday. Come on. Just let me spoil you once?â
You clear your throat and nod, afraid that if you speak, your voice will give away how much those words affect you. Natasha telling you she wants to spoil you?
That alone is the best birthday gift youâve ever gotten.
â
Itâs honestly a lot more than you could have asked for. The restaurant is beautiful, the food is amazing, and Natasha is looking at you in that special way that makes you feel so happy and confused at the same time.
If you didnât know any better, you could have sworn you saw love in her beautiful emerald eyes.
âHowâs your food?â
âHereâ you take a forkful of your pasta and offer it to her.
âReally good. Almost as good as the one we had in⊠where was it? Naples?â Natasha teases, and you smile.
âThatâs the city. The whole region is actually really beautiful⊠maybe I should take some of that time off and travel againâ you ponder, thinking about how life has been all about work for the past years.
âWhere would you go? Aside from Naples?â
âSorrento, Lecce, maybe Positano. I donât know, I guess Iâd spend it around the south, just because the food is that goodâ you sigh, dreamily.
âHow come you know so much about it?â Natasha inquires, smiling softly.
âMy parents owned a house, because my grandparents were from Salerno. So weâd all spent every summer there, until they sold the propertyâ you explain, letting the waiter take your empty plate. The memory of hot days, cold water and delicious food comes back to you, coupled with the places youâd visit, driving everywhere with your family.
âSo, maybe you were destined to be on this missionâ Natasha says, smiling.
âI donât know if destined or it was Fury messing with meâ you slip up, hurrying to take a sip of your wine. He had teased you endlessly about your crush on Natasha, and he was probably laughing his ass off as he prepared your identities.
âWhatever it was, Iâm happy weâre in this togetherâ Natasha admits, smiling to you.
âMe tooâ you agree in a low voice. Then, you look at her and smile mischeviously. âSo, since itâs my birthday, can we get a nice dessert?â
âIâm already on itâ Natasha raises her hand, the man bringing a plate with a slice of chocolate cake and a candle. âMake a wishâ
What could you possibly wish for? You wanted to spend time with Natasha, get to know her, have her look at you the way she was doing right now.
Your wish was granted already. Still, you smile, and lean forward to blow out the candle.
â
âMaybe this is a bad ideaâ
Natasha is hovering. Hovering and following you and asking all kinds of questions while you prepare your bag.
âItâs gonna be fineâ you say, again.
âItâs too riskyâ
âAll I have to do is place this phone next to his computerâ you lift the device that Maria sent. âAnd weâll have access to his filesâ
âWhat if he notices?â
âI better run fast thenâ you joke, but Natasha doesnât laugh. âIâm a SHIELD agent, not a history nerd with no fighting skillsâ
âExcept you are a history nerdâ she mutters and you turn to glare at her.
âYou know what, Romanoffâ
âCan I at least drive you there?â
Thereâs a moment of hesitation on your side. Does she think youâll screw up the mission? Or is she actually worried about you? Either way, she looks conflicted and thereâs no reason to not give her some peace of mind.
âAlrightâ
On the way to the lecture, you review your notes, missing the way Natasha smiles at the things youâre saying about the subjective value of art and how it has changed throughout history.
Such a nerd.
âIâll be in a cafe monitoring everything. Call me when youâre done and Iâll pick you upâ
âYes, darling wifeâ you say with a slightly mocking tone, the same way you always call her your wife in public, but with no one else around.
As you exit the car and walk towards the university, Natasha calls for you.
âI didnât get to wish you good luckâ she explains, pulling you close and kissing you softly. âGood luckâ
âT-thanksâ you say, out of breath.
Natasha nods, letting you walk as if she didnât just do the sweetest thing in the world.
You try not to think about how much youâll miss this when the missionâs over.
But now you have to stay focused.
Alessandro waves his hand in the air, and you walk towards him with a smile.
âI canât thank you enough for doing thisâ
âItâs not a problem, reallyâ
It totally is, you criminal motherfucker.
âOh, I forgot my laptop, could I use yours? I have the deck on a flash driveâ
Alessandro hesitates for a second, but his mask slips back to place instantly. If you really were a regular person, you never would have noticed his concern.
It means he keeps everything hidden there.
âSure. Let me justâŠâ he quickly types his password, and you look around the classroom, pulling out the phone and placing it on the table next to his computer. âAll setâ
âThank youâ
As the slideshow is projected in the auditorium, you look around the room, feeling more confident.
âSo, how much would you guys pay for a banana taped to a wall?â
â
âIâm telling you, he keeps everything thereâ you say to Natasha, browsing through the device. âThereâs some encryption, thoughâ
âMy expertiseâ
âShow offâ
âLetâs get something to eatâ she changes the subject.
âYou donât wanna go back home and check if itâs working?â
âI think a few hours wonât make a difference. We wonât be long, detkaâ
You think Fury would disagree, but sheâs calling you detka and your gayness outweights your sense of duty.
âWhat are you in the mood for?â
âAnything you wantâ
âPizzaâ
âAnything but pizzaâ she says, making a face and you laugh.
âNatasha!â
âSushiâ she proposes.
âFine, sushi it isâ
The evening is spent talking about everything but the mission, and by the time youâre driving back home, all you want to do is get in bed and sleep.
âWhere are you going?â you ask when Natasha walks to the study.
âYou did your part, now I have to workâ she explains with a smile.
âFineâ you close the door to the bedroom, joining her in the study. âEither way youâre gonna wake me up when you come back to bed. Might as well help you nowâ
âSureâ she says, even though you know next to nothing about code and hacking.
While she works on the computer, you look at the window, yawning and stretching in the couch.
Natasha finds out that Pluto is the banking organization they use for their covert operations. To access the accounts she needs a code-string of numbers.
âHow many numbers?â you ask, half asleep.
âSixâ
âNot coordinates. Could be dates. Most of them like to write down the dates of their oldest founders' tombstones anywhere they can, like a fucking tramp stampâ you joke, falling asleep. âGet into the database and try thoseâ
âMaybeâŠâ Natasha begins to say, but when she turns around youâre snoring.
And what does she know, you are right, the key to the algorithm is based on tombstonesâ dates. Talk about morbid.
âNerdâ Natasha says affectionately. Deciding it is enough work for the day, she closes the laptop, helping you up to your shared bedroom.
Truth is, sheâs not ready to finish this mission.
â
The end is near, you both can tell. With the encryption finished and the communications that you have intercepted, SHIELD has enough to arrest them.
According to the conversations you recorded, the exchange is set to happen two weeks from today. So you have two more weeks of fake domestic bliss. And then back to being just colleagues.
âIâll be home as soon as I have a responseâ Natasha says.
âSee you laterâ you say from your spot in the couch.
âNo good luck kiss?â she jokes, referring to the time she said goodbye to you before the lecture.
But youâre not messing around when you stand up and place a chaste kiss on her cheek. If these are the last two weeks you get to do this without being questioned, youâll make the most of them.
âBe safeâ
âYou tooâ she smiles, squeezing your hand.
The sun is setting, but you donât feel like cooking anything or watching television. Instead, you decide to go out for a run, passing by the Costa mansion out of curiosity.
âHey, neighborâ Beatrice greets with her signature wave. She often looks like royalty waving at the commoners. âWant some refreshments?â
âOh, itâs fine. Iâm just out for a short runâ
âCome on, you could use some rest! Iâd love to hear how the presentation wentâ
Feeling cornered, you nod, stepping foot inside her mansion. Beatrice has a glass of lemonade ready, which surprises you, but you take it and sip slowly.
Damn, even her lemonade tastes amazing.
âHeard those students were fascinated by your presentationâ she encourages you to speak, and you nod, the movement making you a bit fuzzy.
âIt was fun⊠yeahâ
âEverything ok?â Beatrice comes close to inspect your face, and you try to step back. Your leg gives in, so you end up on the floor.
âIâm not sureâŠâ
It isnât until the very last second you understand the woman drugged you.
â
Everything is upside down or so you feel as you struggle to open your eyes.
âSee? I told you sheâd be fineâ
âOh, shut it. Weâve been waiting for hoursâ a man says and you blink several times. Their names come back to you slowly.
The mission.
Was your cover blown?
âY/N, dear, I do apologize. My wife may have overdone it with the clonazepamâ Alessandro says. You try to move, but your hands are tied behind your back. âYes, about that. Donât worry, we wonât keep you here for long. We just really need to use your connections in the art world to smuggle a tiny, tiny thingâ
Good news (for you). The cover is safe.
Bad news (for them). Natasha is gonna kill them.
It looks like youâre in an abandoned warehouse, and judging by the sound, itâs close to the river.
âYeah, uh⊠look. I donât know how to say this, but youâd be better off crossing the border, whichever one. South, northâ
âIâm not followingâ Beatrice says.
âWell, Iâm afraid Natashaâs gonna kill you when she finds you twoâ you grimace, almost feeling sorry for them. They truly donât know whatâs coming.
âNo offense, but I think a Maggia family will be more than safe fromâŠâ
âThe Black Widow?â you say, with a smug smile.
âBullshitâ Beatrice snaps, pulling you by the hair. âStop the nonesense and help us out. Or weâll send you home to your loving wife in a body bagâ
Thereâs a loud crash outside of the warehouse, and a widow bite is shot close to Beatriceâs foot as a warning.
âHands off my girlâ Natasha says, gun raised and pointing at Alessandro. âYou ok, sweetheart?â
âYes. Sorry for missing dinnerâ
âItâs fine. Weâll heat it up when we get homeâ Natasha jokes. With a nod, you throw yourself to the floor, shattering the chair. Beatrice throws a couple of punches, and sheâs quite the fighter.
While Natasha is engaged in battle with Alessandro, the woman escapes and youâre following close behind. The drug is still in your system, and you can tell by the way your steps are a little clumsy.
Beatrice leads you to the edge of the river and you catch up to her out of breath.
âItâs overâ you say, hearing Natasha step right behind you.
âCapâs got the other one. Letâs bring this one inâ she says, walking past you. She fails to see the gun that Beatrice is hiding, and you push Natasha out of the way. The bullet passes between you both and you launch your body against Beatrice, knocking her down.
Still, your diziness makes you lose your footing and you fall to the river.
âRogers, Hill!â Natasha calls over comms, borderline hysterical. âSomeone come inâ
âIâm here, Romanoffâ Tony says, flying over the redhead.
âWhat the hell took you so long?â
Tonyâs suit scans the river and finds you.
âSheâs ok, Iâm getting her out now. Handcuff our suspect thereâ
Natasha turns to glare at Beatrice, punching her so hard sheâs knocked out.
âBitchâ Natasha says, handcuffing her.
Maria approaches to make sure Natasha doesnât kill Beatrice, while the redhead sprints towards the spot where Tony drops you off.
âAre you ok? What hurts?â
âJ-just coldâ you mutter, holding on to her hands.
âLetâs take her to the Medbay. Romanoff, stay so you can lead the rest of the missionâ Steve says.
âAre you out of your damn mind?â Natasha screams so loud that every agent on the scene turns to look at her. âIâm going with her to the hospital, I donât give a crap about your mission, Rogersâ
âTasha, Iâm fineâ you insist, but enjoy the way she pulls you against her, her hands on your lower back. Natasha kisses the top of your head, leading you to a car that will drive you to SHIELDâs medical facility.
Fury turns to look at Hill, amused.
âRemember our little bet?â
Maria rolls her eyes, annoyed. She pulls out a twenty dollar bill and reluctantly hands it to her boss.
âSo not fairâ
â
Bruised ribs, a potential cold from your night swim and a minor concussion. All things considered, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.
Natasha seems to disagree, which is why she pushes to postpone the mission debriefing.
âYou need to restâ is all she says.
Back in your old room, you shower, enjoying the hot water and clean clothes. Natasha is still sitting on your bed when you walk out of the bathroom.
âI donât know if Iâll be able to sleep without youâ she confesses shyly, which makes you smile.
âMe neitherâ
âI thought I lost youâ
âI got lucky. Those two idiots actually thought I was an art dealerâ you chuckle.
âYouâre a very convincing art nerdâ Natasha teases, and you want to pull back but she grabs you by the waist. âI wish I still had two more weeksâ
âIt doesnât have to be just two weeksâ you say, running your hand through her hair. âI donât want to pretend to be with you, Natasha. I want to be with you, for realâ
âYeah?â she looks up at you, a guarded expression on her face.
Instead of answering, you lean forward, kissing her softly until she pulls you to straddle her lap.
âYou know, we never consumated our marriageâ
âSeems like we should get on with itâ you laugh as she flips you over, making you lie on your back.
âJust as long as you donât fake an orgasmâ she jokes, kissing every inch of your body.
âPromise I wonâtâ
Your reality turns out better than any undercover mission could ever be.
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OFF MUTE â PAIGE BUECKERS X READER!

| synopsis: you never thought your casual scroll on tiktok would land you on a live with kk arnold and paige bueckers. but a last-minute song request, a few suspicious smiles, and one dm later⊠youâre starting to think paige mightâve just found her new favorite singer.
| warnings: secondhand embarrassment, lots of flirting, suggestive banter, minor swearing, social media chaos, and hints of mutual pining
| word count: 3.2k / part two
youâve been a uconn wbb fan for a minute now. it started out casualâjust catching games on tv and watching clips on twitterâbut it quickly turned into something deeper. the kind where you know their next five matchups, have favorite pregame fits saved on your phone, and would absolutely fake confidence if any of them ever looked your way in person.
youâve already been to two home games this season, and yes, you may or may not have replayed that one clip of paige doing a no-look dime to azzi like thirty times.
so when you see kkarnold2 pop up in your tiktok live notifications, your fingers move before your brain even catches up.
you click in.
the screen loads, and there they areâkk and paige, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on what looks like paigeâs bed, a mountain of snacks behind them and the sound of a basketball game from the tv playing in the background.
âwe live. whatâs up girly pops,â kk says immediately, grinning into the camera. she does a peace sign while sticking her tounge out, and paige snorts beside her.
âhey girly pops,â paige mimics, reaching for a gummy worm. âi sound just like camera, huh?.â she says while smirking.
âgirl boo,â kk says. âyou lucky i invited you. the people donât come here for you.â
âbold lie,â paige says, looking directly into the camera now. âthey definitely come for me. watch thisââ
she leans in closer. âtalent show.â
and just like that, the comments start exploding. people are begging to go live. some are typing âi can do a backflip on commandâ and others are already screaming âPAIGE I LOVE YOUâ in all caps.
you laugh to yourself, just watching. you remember the last âtalent showâ live they did. someone tried to do a magic trick and exposed themselves accidentally. it was chaos.
kk starts accepting people randomlyâone girl screams as soon as the camera flips, another guy attempts to rap, and two different girls sing a snippet of sza before fangirling too hard to finish.
you pause for a second. bite your lip. then⊠screw it. you hit the request button.
you don't actually expect anything, though.
âooh hold up,â kk says, squinting. âthis username kinda cute. should i let them in?â
paige leans over to look at her screen. âwait, show me the pfp.â
thereâs a beat.
then paige goes quiet. really quiet.
so quiet you hear her say under her breath, âpretty.â
but the mic picks it up.
kk turns to look at her, then immediately starts grinning. âpaige.â
before you can panic and back out, your screen changes.
youâre live.
with paige bueckers staring directly at you.
âyo!â kk cheers. âwe got a new one. say whatâs up!â
âh-hi,â you manage, trying not to sound like your heartâs doing jumping jacks. âuh⊠i wasnât actually expecting to get in.â
âtoo late now,â paige says, smiling. âyouâre here. whatâs your talent?â
you blink. âuh⊠i sing.â
âyesss,â kk claps. âokay pick a song, we ready.â
âyou pick,â you say, a little bolder now. âwhat do you want to hear?â
paige doesnât even hesitate. âsza. sing âlove language.ââ
you raise an eyebrow. âis that your favorite or something?â
paige shrugs, but sheâs smirking. âmight be.â
you set your phone down, take a breath, and hit play on the instrumental in the background.
the second the first note drops, paige mouths the intro. then stops completely once you start singing.
youâre locked in nowâsoft, smooth vocals floating through the speaker. eyes half-closed. completely in your element.
the chat explodes.
@buckets4bueckers: WAIT SHE CAN ACTUALLY SING
@kkarnoldstan420: PAIGE LOOKING LIKE SHE'S IN LOVE RN
@d1gf4paige: this girl is fine AND talented??? bye.
@fuddnation: paige got her mouth open đ
@bueckherdownbad: THE WAY PAIGE LOOKED AT HER??? IâM SWEATING
@paigesgfconfirmed: yâall this is the real draft night
@szaandslay: girl sang sza and stole paigeâs heart on live⊠legend
@loveandlayups: paige better dm her RIGHT NOW
you keep going. full verse, chorus, little riff at the end.
when you finish, thereâs a few seconds of silence.
thenâ
âoh my god,â kk says. âno cause you ate that.â
âlike, actually,â paige says, still staring. âyouâre insane.â
you glance at the chat. one comment catches your eye: âpaige been smiling since she joined.â
paige reads it too. she covers her mouth, laughing. then leans out of frame and lightly punches kk in the arm.
âyou see how they got me lookin right now?â
kk cackles. âyou did it to yourself.â
ânah. donât even start right now.â paige says
youâre blushing hard now. âokayyyy i think itâs time to pass the mic to someone else.â
paige frowns. âwhat? no, sing another.â
you shake your head, trying to keep it smooth. âwish i could, but i got homework. maybe next time.â
kk nods. ârespect. education comes first. even if paige is heartbroken.â
âliterally shut up,â paige says, half-laughing, half-hiding her face.
she suddenly turns to kk. âwaitâmute the live real quick.â
kk gives her a look, but does it.
the screen goes silent for twenty seconds. theyâre clearly talking. paigeâs hands are moving a lot.
then the live un-mutes.
paige leans back into the camera. âthank you for joining. youâre seriously amazing.â
âcome back next time!â kk adds. âwe need some more.â
you smile. âwill do. night yâall.â
the second you leave the live, your phone buzzes.
followed by: paigebueckers and kkarnold2
thenâanother notification.
dm from paigebueckers:
hey. you really killed that. we should talk more sometime.
and you sit there smiling, already typing your message back to her.
#paige bueckers#uconn wbb#uconn huskies#ncaa womenâs basketball#paige bueckers x reader#paige bueckers smut#paige bueckers x oc#paige bueckers x black!reader#wlw#kk arnold
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áââ
^..^â⥠abby canât keep her hands to herself
abby has never really known how to ask for physical affection. not because she doesnât want itâgod, she doesâbut because itâs always felt like itâs something sheâs not sure sheâs allowed to want. especially from you.
cw: def shamelessly suggestive, but not really to the point that's pure smut (,,>ïč<,,)
she finds herself gravitating toward you without thinkingâan accidental brush of your fingers, the way her knee presses against yours under the table a little longer than necessary. she doesnât say anything about it. doesnât know how to. but her body tells the story for her. she wants you close. closer than friends should be.
at first, abby tries to keep her distanceâkeeps her hands in her lap, fingers fidgeting any time you sit too close. but it doesnât last longânot when you look at her with those pretty eyes, not when your laugh fills the room, and definitely not when she accidentally hears you talk with a friend about how much you like her.
then there was that nightâthe one she replays in her head when she daydreams. you were both at a friendâs apartment, packed into a too-small living room with not enough couch space. someone put a movie on, people were shifting around trying to make room. you were standing nearby in that little skirt, eyeing the floor.
âi don't want to sit on the floor,â you mumbled. âmy back hurts.â
abby blinked up at you, and before she could overthink it, she patted her lap. âyou can sit here, if you want.â
she said it so casually. meant it casually. or at least, tried to. what she didnât expect was for you to actually do it.
you smiled at her, and thenâyou sat carefully, but fully in her lap, your warmth pressing into her thighs like you belonged there. your weight settled against her, and it was like something inside her snapped awake. lit up. her hands hovered awkwardly, unsure of where to go, until you shifted a little, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around your waist. pulled you closer. tighter.Â
you leaned back slightly, resting your head on her shoulder, and whispered, âis this okay?â
abby cleared her throat. âyeah, itâs okay. iâm just a bit surprised.â
âyou offered,â you teased, turning your head enough to catch the curve of her ear when you exhaled.Â
âdidnât think youâd actually take me up on it,â she muttered, tightening her hold on you. ânot complaining, though.â
you giggled, and she could feel it against her chest. it did something to herâas it was dangerous, sweet, and so addictive.
from that moment on, it was over for her.
abby couldnât stop touching you after that. it started smallâher hand on your lower back when you walked through a door, brushing your hair behind your ear just to feel it, resting her palm on your thigh whenever you sat next to her. but soon it became instinct. a habit.
sheâd pull you into her lap even when there was plenty of room elsewhere. press her face into your neck and hum softly like it calmed her. grip your hips absentmindedly while you talked. hands always finding their way to your skin, like she needed the contact to breathe.
you never questioned it. never pulled away. if anything, you leaned into itâinto herâuntil the physical contact became something sacred for both of you. she never said it out loud, but every time you curled into her, every time your body melted into hers, the same thought ran through her headâshe's mine.
abby doesnât know how to play it cool around you anymore. she knows she canât be just a friend to you anymore.Â
youâre in her apartment, both pretending to be focused on some random tv series neither of you are really watching. youâre sitting between her legs on the couch, your back resting against her chest, and her arms draped around your waist. her hands, as always, are somewhere on youâfingers idly stroking the soft skin under your hoodie. slow. deliberate. like sheâs trying to memorize every bit of you with touch alone.
you shift slightly, adjusting your legs, and her grip tightensâbarely, but enough for you to notice. "donât move," she murmurs against your neck, her voice low and rough. âstay right here.â
you feel her breath warm against your skin, and it sends a shiver down your spine. âabbyâŠâ
âhm?â she mumbled out, carelessly.Â
you glance over your shoulder, eyes meeting hersâher jaw is tense, pupils blown wide, hands suddenly still like sheâs holding herself back.
âyouâre doing that thing again,â you say softly.
âwhat thing?â her voice drops even lower, like she already knows what youâre about to say.
âtouching me like you donât know if youâre allowed to,â you whisper, lips brushing dangerously close to her jaw.
her breath hitches. âi know i am,â she admits, her hand sliding up your stomach, slow, warm, and possessive. âi just try not to be a fucking animal about it.â
you laugh, breathlessly, and thatâs when she loses the last of her restraint. in a second, she shifts forward, guiding you to turn and straddle her thighs. you donât even thinkâyou just do it, since you desperately want itâyour hands on her shoulders, your black skirt riding up in the process. her hands settle firm on your hips like sheâs been waiting for this.
âyou have no idea what you do to me,â she says, forehead pressed to yours. âyou sit in my lap like that, wear these little skirts, touch me like it's nothingâand i swear, iâm trying to be good, butâŠâ her hands flex on your waist.
âabby,â you whisper, and her name in your voice makes her groan. âplease.âÂ
âtell me to stop,â she breathes. âand iâll stop.â
you shake your head slowly, leaning in until your lips brush hers. âdonât you dare.â
thatâs all she needs.
her mouth crashes into yoursâhungry and needyâand her hands grip your thighs almost harshly. the kiss is messy, as you swallow each other's desperate moans. your fingers curl into her braided hair, and abby groans into your lips when you grind down into her lap.
"fuck," she pants against your skin, pulling you closer. "youâre gonna drive me crazy."
and you smile, flushed and gasping, whispering, "good."
she kisses you like sheâs starved for itâlike sheâs been imagining this for months. your fingers are tangled in her hair, your breath hitching every time her tongue slides against yours, slow and shameless. her hands are everywhere. gripping your skin, sliding under your hoodie, palms burning hot against you like she wants to own every inch of you. she breaks the kiss only to press her mouth to your jaw, dragging her lips down your throat, teeth grazing that one spot that makes your hips jerk.
you whine. âfuck, abbyâŠâ
âgod, baby,â she breathes, pressing a kiss on your neck. âyou donât even know what you do to me.â
you rock against her lap againâtoo slowly, as if to tease her even more. âi want you, abs.â
âiâm not gonna be able to stop,â she warns, voice wrecked, forehead pressing into your shoulder.Â
âmaybe i donât want you to,â you whisper, dragging your nails up the back of her neck.
thatâs it. that was it.
she tugs your hoodie over your head, her eyes slightly widen when it drops to the floor. âfuck, youâre so pretty,â she mutters, like the sight of you in that lilac bralette is overwhelming, like itâs something sheâs never seen before and might never get to again.
her hands are gentle but firm, exploring your body like sheâs learning a languageâpalms sliding over your ribs, thumbs brushing over the soft curves of you.
and then sheâs kissing you again, deeper now, with a need thatâs starting to spill over. she lays you back onto the couch without breaking the kiss, hands braced on either side of your head. her body hovers over yours, muscles tense, jaw clenched like sheâs fighting not to lose control.
you reach up, tracing her jaw. âabbyâtouch me, please. i want you so badly.â
when abby hears thatâhears that you want this just as muchâsomething breaks in her.
her mouth is on you again, but this time itâs messier, hungrier. she kisses down your chest, trailing open-mouthed kisses over every inch of your skin like sheâs worshipping it. when her hands slide down, under the hem of your skirt, she pausesâjust for a breathâlooking up at you.
âi thought i would never get to see you like this,â she whispered.
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EVERYTHING â
âł oscar piastri + rb driver!fem!reader
â :: masterlist
â :: a/n: I AM LIVING FOR THIS OSCAR DOMINTATION ACTUALLY LIKE YESS THATS MY AUSSIE !!!! also ahem excuse me sorry i disappeared for a month i lost the will to write đđđ i also think i forgot how to write bc why is it SO BAD??? anyway



oscar was the first who saw it. the first who brought his car to a stop, the first to launch out of said car and run towards you.
other cars stop behind him, george, lando, max, so many drivers come to a stop and bolt over to where you sat frozen.
marshals were running, but they were slow. drivers were climbing over the tires, scrambling desperately to get you out, get help.
-
it was your mistake, you had gone too wide and tried to correct yourself, but you didn't see carlos behind you and collided you briefly, he was able to correct himself. you were not.
the car spun, flipped four times your body being assaulted with each tumble before you eventually black out.
you had landed on an angle on the tires, half the car propped on them and the other on the ground, you weren't moving. the crowd was freaking out, screaming loudly in worry.
oscar was following behind you when he saw the incident. "is she okay? shit that was bad. has she said anything?"
"we're waiting for an answer," was his engineers response.
but that wasn't good enough, that was his best friend sat in the seat of that car he was doing something. quickly stopping, he launches out of his seat like his ass is on fire, max your team mate, hot on his heels.
"y/n!" oscar yells as they approach the car, you probably can't hear him, but it was a knee jerk reaction, one he was waiting for a response back for, a sign that you were okay.
you weren't moving though, your head was still, you were still. not even your signature, goofy middle finger you usually give after a crash. nothing.
oscar was ten thousand percent panicking now. you were fine. you were fine. you were fine, right?
more drivers arrive beside the car then, helping unbuckle your limp body and pulling you gently from the car just as marshals and a medic team arrive getting straight to work.
you were loaded into a ambulance and oscar, much to his dismay, was told to stay back, that there was a race to finish. not that he would be focusing on the race at all.
max clapped him on the shoulder as they both made their way back to their cars, "she'll be okay osc, its y/n, when has she ever been been taken down, knowing her she'll be giving the paramedics shit for getting there so slow?" his words were light and clearly meant jokingly but oscar couldn't think past your limp body.
you have to be okay right?
please be okay.
he couldn't lose his you, his crazy, his everything.
â
the crash looked awful on tv, you winced everytime you saw it - mainly because you had been replaying it for as long as you've been awake - but thats not the point.
the point is you have been awake for a little, while in an immense amount of pain and watching the rest of the live of the race and then replays of your crash.
probably a stupid thing to watch but you wanted to make sure you never made a mistake like that again.
also it was nice seeing the way oscar bolted out of his car, his pure desperation clear in his run - this was not something you should like considering you we're literally unconscious. but what, can't a girl have hidden feelings for her best friend that come out at the worst time?
speaking of that, loud shouts catch your attention from outside your room "i don't care. i want to see her! let me see her!"
your heart practically melts at his tone, oscar piastri never yells but he is for you. and thats special because you said it is.
the door bursts open and in rushes the man of the hour, his face pulled in a tight frown, worry clouding his eyes. worry that only dissipates (a little) when he sees you propped up in bed wide-eyed at his current outfit choice.
"y/n," he says rushing over to your side and picking your hand up careful not to hurt any of your injuries. "im so glad you're okay. are you? i can go yell at some more nurses if need be."
a small laugh erupts from your chest and you try not to wince, instead focusing on oscar.
"are you okay?" he asks his hands cupping yours.
"i am," you smile back at him, relishing in his hands warmth because this stupid hospital is way too cold.
"really?"
"i am osc, don't worry," you try to reassure him, but his frown only becomes more prominent.
"you were unresponsive, you weren't awake, do you know how scary that was?" he asks resting his head down on your blanketed lap, exhaling sharply. "i was petrified. so beyond scared and then i had to stay back and finish that fuckass race-"
"which you won oscar, by a whole thirty seconds," you cut him off trying to get him to see how amazing that was.
"that doesn't matter i was just trying to get the whole thing over with," he raises a hand and drops it on you leg - softly. "i had to stay and enjoy a win while who knows what happened to you. do you know how annoyed my race engineer was because i was asking for updates on you that frequently?" he takes a shake breath. "i was so fucking scared."
"osc..." you raise you hand and run it through his hair, a shudder running through his whole body. "i had no idea you were that scared."
"i was petrified baby," he mumured.
if this were any other moment you would started screaming internally at the fact he called you baby but now, now you just comforted you very best friend in one of his darkest moments.
â
after about a day or two, you were moved from the hospital to your home- well not your home oscar's. that was something that popped up when the nurse asked if you had anyone to help care for you, or look after you at all, oscar instantly stepped in of course.
so now you're curled up on a couch, wrapped in possibly the worst most comfortable blanket ever, sipping a hot chocolate and watching as oscar makes his way around the kitchen in the afternoon sun.
he's wearing your personal choice of a fitting white tee, and grey sweatpants- best decision you've ever made. you cannot lie.
he's also cooking pasta- the second best decision you've made. because oscar makes a heavenly bolognese.
he finishes plating the dishes and brings them over to the couch opting to sit down next to you rather than have you move to the table.
you practically inhale the food, being stuck for a few days with only hospital food is no joke. "this is so much better than the dog shit we were given at the hospital," you smile licking your fork clean.
oscar stilled, his mind replaying the moment your car flipped in the air, then flashing to your smiling but fragile body in the the bed just laying there.
you notice his change in demeanour right away, "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to say it like that," you whisper, putting your plate down and gently touching his shoulder. "its probably a little too soon to start that type of talk."
oscar puts his own plate down and looks over at you, "it was so unbelievably scary seeing that y/n, i don't think i'll ever get that image out of my head."
"i'm still here," you say, your voice soft, you place a hand over his, squeezing gently.
"but you almost weren't," his voice is also soft, scared almost.
"but i am, look at me oscar," you say, your voice firm. his eyes drift to yours, a swirling mix of fear and adoration and- wait adoration?
"you're still here," he whispers, looking back down at your hands, threading his fingers through you own, and squeezing your palm.
"i'm still here."
he brings you joined hands to his mouth and presses a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. "you're still here."
"and im not going anywhere okay?"
"okay."
"good, now eat your pasta before i do," you shove him gently.
"eat up," oscar says letting your hand go and picking your empty dish up pressing a kiss on your forehead. he heads over to the kitchen running the tap and washing the plates.
once you finish your second plate you stand up tenderly walking over to the sink and placing the plate on the counter, not noticing the way oscar stops and watches you. the way he sees your slight winces.
what you do notice, is when he envelopes you in a soul reviving hug, not hard, simply a fierce reminder he was there for you, and that he was scared. he was scared he would lose you again
"i'm not going anywhere, osc, i promise."
"don't make promises you can't keep y/n i nearly lost you," his voice is muffled in your collarbone.
"well this promise i can keep oscar piastri, because no god or heaven or crash could keep me from you. you're my oscar. and nothing will ever change that, yeah?"
he smiles, you can feel it. "... yeah."
"i love you osc, always and forever."
you said those words, hiding your feelings and simply telling the truth. with or without your feelings though, you loved him. like a friend, a partner, like an everything.
because he wan your everything.
and you were his.
you were each other's everything.
2025 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works
â comments, likes and reblogs appreciated !
#â my works .á â#oscar piastri fanfiction#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri blurb#f1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 fanfiction#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fanfiction#formula 1 imagine#op81 x reader#op81 fic#f1 grid x reader#op81#op81 fluff#op81 imagine#oscar piastri au#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri#formula one x reader#f1 fluff#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 drabble#formula 1 x you
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sweet as sin -> cl16

main masterlist / navigation
porn star!charles chronicles -> here
tags: everyone's got normal lives (no F1), mentions of porn/OF, very very suggestive (or very light smut idk?), mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex toys
a/n: this is just an introduction to the au. if you have any ideas or things you think would go well with the au, send an ask and lmk <3

âOh, I donât know, Gwen!â You said, swirling your straw around in your drink as you eyed the friend. âOther than the fact Iâm moving soon, my life is a bit too boring lately. Iâm done with dating apps after the last big failure and I just need something interesting to happen!â
âYou mean you need to get laid!â She accused, mischief sparkling in her eyes as she giddily sipped her mimosa, already a bit tipsy from all the previously consumed ones. âWhen was the last time you had a good orgasm?â
You coughed, nearly choking on your drink as you stared at her with wide eyes. âWeâre so not talking about this!â
âIâll take that as a âvery long agoâ,â Gwen said, eyeing you over the rim of her glass. âJust because youâre not dating doesnât mean you canât have some fun.â
âDidnât you hear the part when I said how all the guys are sleazy and disgusting?â
She chuckled, flashing you a smile. âYou can have fun on your own. Nothing wrong with that, in fact, itâs my favourite.â
âGod,â you laughed, swatting her arm. âYouâre definitely too drunk for 12 pm, Gwen.â
However much you tried to push it from your mind and deny, Gwenâs words stuck with you through the rest of the day. A constant echo in the back of your mind that played like a mocking tune whenever you found even a second free.
With a groan you pushed yourself up from your couch, the TV show playing on the screen already long abandoned. In the silence of your apartment you could hear every step you made, every thud of your feet against the ground seemed to echo like a thump of your heart within your chest.
You reached your bedside, eyes narrowed in a glare as you rummaged through the drawer in search of your old vibrator, an unfamiliar sensation stirring in your chest once you finally pulled it out, the thing still fully charged and ready to be used.Â
You settled on the bed, head nestled on the pillow as you closed your eyes and tried to tease yourself but it was so damn hard when nothing came to mind. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you reached for your phone, holding it up in a slightly shaky hand you unlocked it and made your way onto the good old trusted ⊠twitter porn.
Your fingers hesitated over a video of a guy. His face was half visible, but his body was in the full picture and he looked sweeter than sin. Hard abs, perfectly toned, arms worth salivating over. Yeah, the guy was made to be pornographic, that you were sure of.
You clicked play, watching as he teasingly ran his hands down his body, wrapping one big hand around his equally as big dick, the sound of his low groaning coming through the speaker.
A sigh slipped past your lips as you mimicked his movement, running your hands down your body, teasingly scraping your nails along your skin before slowly reaching your fingers under the waistband of your shorts.
The video ended just as your fingers reached your clit and a low spark of annoyance ran through you. âFuck âŠâ you muttured, staring at the replay button. Then the words under the video caught your attention.
Want more? Check out my OF ;)
Next to them was a link. Without thinking twice, or much, you pressed the link, watching as his OnlyFans page loaded up.
You glanced at the vibrator next to you on the bed, Gwenâs words, or more so the âYou can have fun on your own,â echoing inside of your head once more.
âFuck it!â You whispered into the darkness of your room, and then pressed the subscribe button.
taglist: @alenix @briefkittenearthquake @gamesetcheckeredflag @yara011
#ps!charles#dia's smutty thoughts#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#formula 1 x you#formula one imagine#formula 1#f1 smut#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x female reader#cl16 x reader#cl16 x you#dia writes
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Forbidden fruit
Pairing: Oh Beom-seok x female reader

Summary: You hate your new stepbrother. Until the night you kiss him. Once the line is crossed, thereâs no going back â only secrets, stolen nights, and the ruin that follows when youâre caught.
Warnings: step-sibling relationship (not blood related), explicit sexual content, emotional manipulation, family abuse, and a heavy, angst-filled ending.
You slam your bedroom door shut, the wood rattling on its hinges. Your heart is pounding with frustration after yet another shouting match with Beom-seok. Living under the same roof with him has become a daily exercise in restraint and resentment. Ever since your mom married his dad a few months ago, itâs been a war zone in this house. Each day seems to bring a new argument â over bathroom time, over what to watch on TV, even over who finished the last of the cereal. Petty little battles that mask a much deeper tension.
You stomp across your room, tossing your phone onto the bed as you replay the latest altercation in your mind. Downstairs, you can still hear the muffled echoes of your parentsâ exasperated voices: your mom pleading for peace, his dad sternly warning both of you to âknock it off.â They donât understand how hard it is to suddenly act like family with someone whoâs practically a stranger â a moody, sarcastic, impossible stranger at that. A stepbrother in name, but hardly the doting sibling they might have hoped for.
Beom-seok has been nothing but cold stares and sharp remarks since day one. You tried to be cordial when your families merged, you really did, but he clearly wanted nothing to do with you. Fine. Two can play at that game. Every eye-roll he gave, you answered with a scoff; every muttered insult, you lobbed one right back. Itâs become routine: the two of you bickering in the hallway, voices low but heated whenever your parents are within earshot. The moment they leave, the volume rises along with the venom in your words. And oh, how it frustrates them â the perfect newlywed couple, their perfect new family, cracking at the seams because their kids refuse to play nice.
Sinking onto your bed, you let out a harsh sigh. If only they knew the full story⊠If only you yourself could make sense of it.
Because beneath all the door-slamming and shouting, something else crackles in the air whenever you and Beom-seok clash. Itâs an electricity you donât want to name. In those taut moments when youâre squared off, chest heaving with anger as he glares at you with those dark, stormy eyes â thereâs a heat there that leaves you more breathless than fury should. More than once, an argument has ended not with one of you storming off, but with a charged silence, noses inches apart, both of you forgetting whatever the fight was even about. Your hands have trembled afterward, disgusted with yourself for the unwanted thrill that coursed through you when he stepped in close.
You rub your palms over your face, as if you could scrub away the memory of the last time it happened.
It was just a week ago â late at night in the kitchen. Heâd cornered you by the fridge, accusing you of moving his things, a stupid misunderstanding. The house was dark and quiet, your parents long asleep. Youâd hissed at him to back off, heâd growled at you to quit playing dumb⊠and then, suddenly, that damning silence. The two of you, alone in the bluish refrigerator light, faces drawn so close in confrontation that you could feel the heat of his breath. Your pulse had pounded in your throat; his eyes flickered down to your lips. You remember the way your stomach flipped, the way time seemed to freeze. You should have shoved past him and left. But you didnât.
It was a blur of clumsy motion â his hand clenching the front of your shirt, your fingers curling into his hoodie â and then his mouth collided with yours. You still donât know who moved first. The kiss was hard, almost bruising, all pent-up anger transmuted into raw hunger. It lasted only a few reckless seconds before you both jerked apart, panting in shock at yourselves. He had stared at you like heâd seen a ghost or committed a crime, eyes wide and lips parted. In the heavy silence that followed, you had fled back to your room without a word, your heart banging against your ribcage. Neither of you ever spoke of it. In the days after, the arguments resumed as if nothing happened â if anything, they grew more intense, fraught with an unspoken acknowledgement of that night.
Your cheeks burn at the memory. Shame twists in your gut, but so does a twisted sort of longing. As much as you tell yourself that kiss was a mistake â one born of misguided anger and proximity â you canât stop thinking about it. Late at night, when you canât sleep, you find your fingers touching your lips, remembering his rough desperation and the unexpected softness beneath. It makes you furious at him, at yourself. This is wrong on so many levels. Heâs your stepbrother now, for Godâs sake, no matter that thereâs no shared blood. But the more you try to bury it, the more it seems to surface in every charged glance across the dinner table, in every accidental brush when passing in the hall.
You know he feels it too. Youâve caught the way Beom-seokâs gaze lingers when he thinks youâre not looking â a flicker of something dark and conflicted. Itâs there in the taut set of his shoulders when you waltz out in a skirt a little too short, in the way his jaw ticks as if heâs biting back words whenever you mention some guy from class. And though most of your fights end with him walking away in a huff or you slamming your door, a few have nearly tipped into something else, just like that night in the kitchen. A shove becoming a graze, a shout trailing off into panting silence. Every time it happens, you swear itâs the last time. That youâll never let it go that far again.
But part of you â the part that youâre trying so hard to ignore â aches for it to happen again. Itâs a dangerous, irrational desire, and you hate yourself for it. You bury your face in your pillow with a frustrated groan. No. You refuse to be that girl â the one who lusts after her own stepbrother just because heâs brooding and convenient and happens to know how to kiss you in all the ways that leave you dizzy. You wonât give him the satisfaction of knowing how he affects you. If he wants war, youâll give him war. Anything to keep this messed-up attraction from surfacing again.
_____
Itâs past midnight when you finally tiptoe through the front door, shoes in hand to avoid waking anyone. The house is dark, save for the faint glow of the living room lamp. You silently curse when you see a figure seated on the couch â Beom-seok, waiting. Heâs hunched forward, elbows on his knees, fingers laced tight. At your entrance, his head snaps up. Even in the dim light, you can make out the storm brewing in his eyes.
âWhere the hell have you been?â he hisses, keeping his voice low. Thereâs a clipped edge to his words. You bristle immediately, defensive.
âOut,â you reply flatly, stepping further inside. You move to slip past the living room, but he rises to block your path. In the close quarters, you catch a whiff of his scent â soap and something darkly musky â which mingles with the faint smell of cigarette smoke clinging to your hair and clothes from the party. His nose wrinkles.
âOut where? Itâs late,â he growls. âYour mom was worried. She was pacing the kitchen, wondering if something happened to you.â
Guilt pricks at you; you hadnât meant to stay out so long. But you refuse to let him see that. Instead, you fold your arms and glare back. âWell, Iâm home now. Safe and sound. So move.â
He doesnât budge. His gaze drags over you, taking in your outfit â the snug dress that clings to your curves, the scuffed heels in your hand. His jaw flexes, and thereâs something accusatory in his eyes that puts you on the defensive. âWhat?â you snap. âGo on, say whatever it is youâre dying to say.â
Beom-seokâs lip curls. âIâm just wondering how many guys you let put their hands all over you tonight.â
Your stomach lurches at the venom in his tone. âExcuse me?â
âYou heard me,â he whispers harshly, stepping closer. âYou reek of smoke and sweat. You look likeâŠâ His eyes flick down your body with blatant disdain. âLike a desperate slut.â
The word drops like a grenade between you. For a split second, youâre stunned into silence by the sheer audacity and ugliness of it. Heat flares in your cheeks â part indignation, part humiliation. Yes, you went out hoping to forget about him, maybe even danced with a cute guy or two to drown out the thought of his perpetual glare. But you did nothing to deserve this.
Anger surges, white-hot and blinding. âAt least people want to fuck me,â you bite back, every word sharp. âYouâll die a virgin.â
You barely register the hurt that flashes across his face, quickly swallowed by a mask of rage. In an instant, his hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. Before you can gasp, youâre shoved back against the wall. The heels in your hand clatter to the floor. Your back meets the hallway wall with a dull thud, not enough to hurt, but enough to knock the breath from your lungs. Beom-seokâs face is mere inches from yours, eyes blazing.
âTake that back,â he growls, voice low and shaking.
Your heart is hammering so loudly youâre sure he can hear it. But you tilt your chin up in defiance, even as his grip on your wrist tightens. âWhy should I? Struck a nerve, did I?â
He snarls, a sound more animal than human, and for a second you wonder if he might actually throw a punch. But instead, he surprises you: his free hand suddenly cups the side of your jaw, fingers digging just enough to make you gasp. He forces your head back against the wall, exposing the line of your throat. You freeze, a thrill of fear and excitement shooting through you.
âYou donât know a damn thing about me,â Beom-seok says in a harsh whisper. His breath fans hot over your neck. âYou think I canât fuck? That no one wants me?â His words drip with bitterness. âIs that why you keep taunting me? Because you think I donât have it in me?â
Your pulse skitters as his insinuation registers. The air between you is smoldering, heavy with something dangerous. âIâ I never saidââ
He presses in closer, and you feel the solid weight of his body pinning you. Your hands come up to push at his chest, but you donât put much strength into it â your senses are reeling, confusion and desire swirling inside you. This is wrong, a voice screams at the back of your mind, but God, the way his fingers are cradling your jaw and the intensity in his eyes⊠it sets your blood on fire. âShut up,â he mutters. âJust shut up for once.â
His mouth crashes onto yours, swallowing whatever retort you had prepared. Itâs not a gentle kiss â itâs teeth and fury, a claiming of territory. For a heartbeat, your mind goes blank. Then instinct kicks in. Youâre kissing him back just as ferociously, fury and desire intertwining until theyâre indistinguishable. Your fists bunch in the fabric of his shirt, and you yank him closer even as he presses you hard against the wall.
His tongue forces its way between your lips, and you meet it eagerly, a moan vibrating at the back of your throat. The taste of him floods your senses â a hint of mint and something coppery from where you bit his lip in the collision. It only fuels you more. He growls into your mouth, one hand leaving your jaw to grab your hip roughly. You arch against him, shocked at how quickly your body ignites under his touch.
The hallway is too exposed, too risky â some shred of sanity registers that. Without breaking the feverish kiss, you use your hold on his shirt to tug him toward your bedroom door just a few steps away. He seems to get the hint. In a flurry, you fumble behind you for the doorknob, twisting it open. The two of you stumble into your room, lips still locked, knocking into the dresser with a thud. You kick the door shut clumsily, praying the noise wasnât loud enough to wake anyone.
Beom-seok spins you around in the dark, and now itâs you pressed up against the back of your door. His hands roam down over your ass, fingers digging in possessively through the thin fabric of your dress. âThis what you wanted?â he rasps against your lips. âYou want your stepbrother to fuck you like the slut you are?â His words are cruel, but his voice shakes â whether from anger or need, you canât tell. Maybe both.
A whimper leaves your throat at his vulgarities, part outrage but mostly pure arousal. You should slap him for saying something so filthy. But the reality is, you do want him to. Youâve never been this turned on in your life, and itâs by the very person you claimed to hate just minutes ago. The forbidden nature of it all only makes it more intoxicating.
In answer, you bite at his lower lip and tug, earning a hiss from him. âFuck you,â you breathe against his mouth â the insult coming out far more like a plea. Your hips roll forward of their own accord, grinding against the hardness you feel between his legs. A strangled groan tears from Beom-seokâs throat.
âYou have no idea what youâre asking for,â he grits out. His forehead presses to yours, both of you panting in the dark. His hands gather the hem of your dress, rucking it up to your hips. Cool air brushes your thighs. âTell me to stop,â he says suddenly, voice rough, almost pained. âTell me to stop now, and I will.â
His words hang in the charged space between you. Itâs the briefest window of opportunity â a chance to put an end to this madness before you both cross a line you canât uncross. Your mind flashes images of consequences: your motherâs devastated face, the family imploding. This is insane.
But you donât say stop. Instead, your fingers find his hair, tangling in the soft, dark strands, and you pull him into another searing kiss, giving him the only answer you have.
Thatâs all it takes. Beom-seok groans into your mouth, any last semblance of restraint snapping. His hands slip under your dress, rough palms skimming up your thighs. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and yank them down unceremoniously. The lacy fabric slides down your legs and you kick it aside. A thrill shoots through you â youâre bare under your dress now, completely exposed to him. The thought is as scary as it is arousing.
You fumble at his clothes, desperate to feel skin. Your hands yank up his hoodie and T-shirt beneath; he hastily helps you pull them off over his head, tossing them blindly into the dark. Your palms roam over his now-bare torso, and you feel the lean muscle beneath warm skin, the way it tenses at your touch. He gasps when your nails scrape lightly over his nipples, and you marvel that you elicited that sound from the usually stoic Beom-seok.
Emboldened, you trail your hand down his stomach, fingers grazing the front of his jeans where you feel his arousal straining against the denim. He curses under his breath and covers your hand with his own, pressing it harder against his length. The heat and solid throb of it sends a pulse of need through you.
âOff,â you whisper urgently, tugging at his belt. You need him â need to feel him, all of him. Your boldness might have shocked you in any other situation, but right now youâre beyond caring. All you know is that youâre desperate for him, consequences be damned.
He fumbles with the buckle and button, hands shaking in haste. Together you shove his jeans and underwear down just enough to free his cock. Your breath catches as you feel it spring against your stomach, hot and rigid. In the dark, you canât see much, but your hands eagerly wrap around him and you hear him suck in a sharp breath. Heâs big enough to make your heart skip â thick and warm and velvety in your grip.
Beom-seok hisses through his teeth as you give an experimental pump of your fist along his length. âFuckâŠ,â he swears softly, his head tipping back. The raw need in his voice sends a thrill through you. Before you can do more, heâs grabbing your wrist again â but this time he guides you, pinning your hand above your head against the door. The sudden assertion makes you whimper, your core clenching around nothing.
âTurn around,â he commands hoarsely. When you hesitate, he nudges you, spinning your body so youâre facing the door. His chest presses against your back; you can feel his heart hammering as wildly as yours. One of his hands splays over your front, rough fingers grazing your throat then descending between your breasts. His other hand grips his cock from behind you, aligning it between your thighs. You realize what he intends and your pulse skyrockets.
Heâs going to do it. Heâs really going toâ
âWeâwe shouldnât,â you whisper urgently, panic and desire warring within you. âWe donâtââ
âJust the tip,â Beom-seok pants against your ear. His hips press forward and you feel the hot, smooth head of his cock glide through your slick folds. A strangled moan tears from you as he slides it up and down, coating himself in your arousal. Your body betrays you, thighs widening in anticipation. âIâll just put in the tip,â he rasps, voice barely coherent. âOkay? Just⊠just to feel you. I wonât go further.â
Itâs a lie â you both know it on some level. But you nod frantically anyway, arching your back to angle your hips, needing that little bit of him inside you even if itâs wrong. âO-okay⊠just⊠just a little,â you hear yourself whisper.
A low groan vibrates from his chest. His hand on your front slides down to grasp your hip. You bite down on your forearm to muffle yourself as Beom-seok begins to push forward. The thick head of his cock stretches you, and even though itâs only the tip, the burn and pressure draw a choked sob from your throat. He pauses, breathing ragged. âFuck, youâre tightâŠâ he whispers, almost as if in awe.
The pain melts quickly into pleasure as your body adjusts, and you realize youâre rocking back, trying to take more of him. Itâs insane and desperate, but you canât help it. You want more. You want all of him.
âJustâŠjust a bit more,â you gasp out, barely recognizing your own voice. You press your forehead against the door, your nails scratching at the wood as you push your hips back. Beom-seok curses behind you, a hand flying to your shoulder as if to steady himself â or to slow you. But he doesnât really stop you. With a shuddering breath, he inches deeper, feeding you another few centimeters of his cock.
âShit,â he groans, the word drawn out. âSo good⊠you feel soâŠâ He doesnât finish, lost in sensation. You feel it too â the overwhelming fullness even with just part of him inside. Itâs not enough. Itâs nowhere near enough.
All pretense of restraint crumbles. In a sudden motion, Beom-seok snaps his hips forward, driving himself all the way in to the hilt. A shockwave of pleasure-pain rips through you and you cry out into your arm, the only thing muffling your scream. He clamps a hand over your mouth for good measure, pinning you to the door as he buries himself fully inside you. The stretch is intense, almost too much, but the way he fills you is maddeningly perfect. Your walls clench around him, fluttering as you adjust to his girth.
âOh f-fuck,â you whimper against his palm, eyes rolling back. Behind you, Beom-seok lets out a guttural sound that youâve never heard from him â raw and broken. His forehead drops to your shoulder, his body trembling against your back. âIâm sorry⊠I c-canâtââ he chokes out, and then he starts to move.
He tries to keep it slow at first, pulling out an inch before pushing back in, as if to let you both absorb the enormity of what youâre doing. But the feel of him rubbing against your inner walls sends bolts of electricity through your veins. Any pain has dissolved into molten pleasure. You rock back to meet his next thrust, silently begging for more.
That undoes him. With a muted curse, Beom-seok grabs your hips with both hands and begins to fuck you in earnest. Deep, driving strokes that have you biting down on your arm again to smother the cries threatening to escape. The door rattles softly with each thrust. Every slap of his pelvis against your ass is indecently loud in the silence of the house, but it only spurs him on. You feel every inch of him claiming you, over and over, and itâs bliss. Forbidden, delirious bliss.
âSo good⊠oh god, youâre so good,â you find yourself babbling in a shattered whisper. Tears prick at your eyes from the overwhelming intensity of it all. He responds with a strained moan, one hand sliding up your body to cup your breast through your dress, squeezing in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation coaxes a high-pitched whine from you.
Your climax hits you out of nowhere. One moment youâre teetering on the edge, the next youâre gone â body clenching around him like a vice as waves of ecstasy crash over you. You sob into your arm, knees almost buckling. Beom-seok slams you forward, pinning you harder to keep you upright as you convulse around his cock. He chokes out a ragged groan at the feeling of you tightening on him. âFuck⊠gonnaââ
With a final thrust, he stills deep inside you. You feel him throbbing, hear the breath catch in his throat as he finds his own release. Even through the haze of your orgasm, youâre distantly aware of warmth flooding you as he empties himself deep within. His teeth sink lightly into your shoulder, muffling a guttural moan. The sensation of him coming inside you â hot spurts painting your insides â wrings a final aftershock from your oversensitive body.
For a long moment, the two of you remain like that, locked together, trembling and panting in the dark. You can feel his heart hammering against your back, your own matching it beat for beat. His forehead is still pressed to your shoulder, and when he finally releases your mouth and lifts his head, you catch the faintest brush of his lips against the nape of your neck â a gesture so tender it almost breaks your heart.
Reality crashes down a second later. Beom-seok eases himself out of you, and you both hiss at the sensitivity as your bodies part. You turn around on shaky legs, leaning back against the door for support. Heâs backlit by the sliver of moonlight coming through your curtains, just enough for you to see his face. What you see there sends a pang through your chest: he looks stunned, lips parted as he struggles to catch his breath, a glimmer of raw emotion in his eyes that he quickly tries to hide.
You donât know what to say. What can you say after this? You just had sex â wild, reckless sex â with your stepbrother. And god help you, it was the most incredible experience of your life. The weight of what youâve done settles heavily in the silence. You can see the same realization mirrored in his expression, the way his throat works as he swallows hard.
Beom-seok opens his mouth, then closes it. His fists clench at his sides. For a moment, you think he might say something â an apology, an angry outburst, anything. But he doesnât. Without meeting your eyes, he reaches down, yanking up his jeans and fastening them with jerky motions. You hurriedly pull your crumpled dress back down over your thighs, cheeks burning.
The silence is suffocating. You want him to at least look at you, acknowledge what just happened, maybe even console you because your emotions are a mess. But he keeps his gaze averted. His features have shuttered closed, an echo of that emotional repression you know so well in him. Finally, barely above a whisper, you hear him say, âThis never happened.â
Your stomach twists. Before you can respond, heâs already unlocking your door and slipping out into the hall. He shuts it behind him with the softest click, leaving you alone, still leaning bonelessly against the door. You press a hand to your mouth, feeling the swollen ache of kissed lips, the tender sting where his teeth marked your shoulder. Your legs feel like jelly. Inside you, you can still feel the slow trickle of his warmth leaking out. A fresh wave of heat floods your face as you slide down to the floor, clamping your thighs together. What have you done?
_____
In the days that follow, reality becomes a blur of guilt, craving, and secrets. By the light of day, you and Beom-seok maintain your hostile charade. Itâs almost easy to believe nothing has changed: you still trade barbs over breakfast; he still holes up in his room, brooding and silent; you still pretend to be annoyed when your mother pushes the two of you to spend time together. But beneath that thin veneer of normalcy, everything is different now. You carry the memory of that night like a brand on your skin â every time you shift in your seat and feel a faint ache between your thighs, you flush with the reminder of how he felt inside you. And every time he looks your way, you see it in his eyes too: the hunger, the conflict, the barely contained need.
For two days, neither of you makes a move. Youâre not sure if itâs out of regret or fear or stubborn pride. Maybe all three. At home, you skirt around each other anxiously. At night, you lie awake replaying every second of that encounter, a tangle of shame and desire twisting in your gut. You wonder if heâs doing the same in his room just across the hall. There are moments you almost convince yourself to knock on his door, to talk about it â to do something about this unbearable tension. But you donât.
Itâs Beom-seok who finally snaps first. On the third night, youâre tossing in bed in the small hours of the morning, unable to sleep. Your body still yearns for a release only one person has ever given you, even as your mind scolds you for wanting it. Thatâs when you hear it: the soft creak of your door easing open. You sit up, heart in your throat, and see a silhouette in the darkness. You know instantly who it is â you could recognize the quiet shuffle of his feet anywhere by now. He slips inside and shuts the door behind him. Moonlight from the window catches the angles of his face, highlighting the uncertainty in his eyes and the determined set of his jaw.
You donât even get a word out before heâs crossing the room in two strides. He sinks onto the edge of your bed, hesitating only a split second, and then his hand reaches out to cup the side of your face. The gesture is oddly gentle, considering how hungrily his eyes are raking over you. Your breath catches. âBeom-seokââ you whisper, but he cuts you off by leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.
Itâs nothing like the furious clash of your first kiss. This one is tentative, almost trembling â as if heâs afraid you might reject him. That thought flees your mind the instant you taste him again. You answer with equal softness, angling your mouth against his. A quiet, relieved sound escapes him, and then the kiss deepens, slowly building in heat. Before long, youâre tugging him down fully onto the bed, your limbs entangling in a desperate need to get him closer. The covers rustle as he crawls over you, and you feel the suppressed shudder that runs through his body when you card your fingers under his shirt, tracing the bare skin of his back.
âI canât stop thinking about you,â he confesses hoarsely against your lips, the words rushed out as if he hates admitting them. It sends a thrill through you, knowing the normally reticent Beom-seok is admitting even that much. âThen donât,â you murmur in reply, fisting your hands in his shirt to yank it off. âIâm yours tonight.â
That night, he makes love to you in your bed, under the cover of darkness and the thick blanket of shared secrets. Itâs frantic at first â clothes tossed to the floor in haste, legs tangling as he positions himself between your thighs. But once heâs sheathed inside you again, a different kind of intensity takes over. He moves slowly, almost reverently, watching your face in the dim light with an expression that borders on agonized. Each roll of his hips coaxes gasps and moans that you muffle against his shoulder. He dips his head to capture your cries with his mouth, swallowing every sound. Itâs as if heâs trying to memorize you, as if you might slip away if he doesnât consume you whole.
When you come undone beneath him this time, he follows right after, spilling warmth inside you once more as he groans your name into the crook of your neck. The way he clings to you in the aftermath â arms wrapped around you with a trembling tightness â feels less like lust and more like desperation. You hold him just as fiercely, fingers raking gently through his hair. Neither of you speaks. In the darkness, gestures speak louder: the press of his forehead to your collarbone, your lips ghosting over his temple. Itâs an intimacy that scares and thrills you in equal measure.
After that night, there is no going back. What was once unthinkable becomes your new normal. By day, you continue the facade of bickering step-siblings; by night, you lose yourselves in each otherâs bodies again and again. Itâs a risky game, a twisted dance on the knifeâs edge of discovery, but neither of you can stop. If anything, the fear of getting caught only adds to the feverish excitement.
Sometimes itâs quick and urgent â like the afternoon you both got home early and he wordlessly dragged you into the bathroom, pinned you against the sink and fucked you deep and hard, one hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your cries as your parents chatted just down the hall. Other times itâs painfully slow â like the night he teased you for what felt like hours, bringing you right to the brink with his fingers and mouth until you were begging, tears in your eyes, for him to finally take you. He had smirked, a rare sight, and whispered against your inner thigh, âSay please, and Iâll think about it.â The mix of humiliation and raw need as you sobbed out a âpleaseâ only seemed to inflame him more. He made good on his promise, though, and the reward was worth every second of torment.
The more you have him, the more you want â like a fire that keeps growing, insatiable. You find yourself inventing excuses to touch him even in passing: brushing by him in the kitchen to feel the heat radiating from his body, or slipping a daring hand under the table to squeeze his thigh during dinner. Every stolen moment feeds the addiction. And with familiarity comes a strange sort of comfort between you. There are nights you donât even have sex at all â nights when he simply crawls into your bed after another screaming match with his father, and you just hold each other until sleep takes you both. In those moments, he clings to you like youâre his lifeline, face buried in your hair, and you stroke his back softly until his ragged breathing calms. Itâs in those quiet hours that you see the cracks in his armor most clearly.
One such night, you awaken to muffled shouting from downstairs â the unmistakable boom of his fatherâs voice in anger and a quieter, tremulous response from Beom-seok. You slip out of your room and tiptoe halfway down the staircase, heart pounding. Through the railing, you see his father towering over him in the study doorway, face twisted in fury. ââŠembarrassment to this family,â his father is saying, voice dripping with contempt. âI didnât spend all that money on your education for you to turn out like this.â
You flinch as you see the man jab a finger hard into Beom-seokâs chest. Beom-seokâs head is bowed, fists clenched at his sides. He doesnât talk back â he just stands there and takes it. A sick feeling churns in your stomach when you realize this is far from the first time. Memories click: the faint bruises you once spotted on his ribs when his shirt rode up, the way heâd winced and pulled away when you touched them. You hadnât pressed him then, but now itâs heartbreakingly clear. How long has this been going on? The vitriol spewing from his father is awful enough, but you fear what might happen if it escalates. Your feet move before your brain can catch up, drawing you closer in case you need to intervene.
Suddenly his father seizes Beom-seok by the collar, shoving him against the wall. The thud of impact sends rage and terror lancing through you. Youâre about to rush forward, not caring what you reveal in the process, but then your mother appears, drawn by the commotion. She gasps, âWhat on earthâ!â and grabs her husbandâs arm. âStop it! Let him go!â
His father releases Beom-seok with a snarl, adjusting his tie like nothing happened. âMy son needs discipline,â he snaps at your mother without remorse. Beom-seok says nothing; he just ducks his head further, shaggy hair obscuring his eyes. You can see his trembling even from the stairs. Without another word, he turns and walks briskly towards the staircase. You scurry back, not wanting to be caught witnessing this ugly scene. By the time he reaches you, youâre hovering at the top of the stairs, concern twisting your insides.
In the darkness of the hallway, Beom-seok pauses when he sees you. For a moment, you think heâll retreat, ashamed to have you see him like this. But something in your expression must break through, because he suddenly closes the distance and grabs your hand. Wordlessly, he tugs you into his bedroom and shuts the door. The moment it clicks, he comes apart. His breathing is ragged, and in the faint light you see tears of frustration or humiliation â or both â shining in his eyes. âIâm sorry you⊠heard that,â he manages to choke out, voice thick with emotion.
You shake your head, throat tight. âDonât be. You have nothing to be sorry for.â Anger at his father simmers in your veins, but you push it aside and gently touch his face. He flinches at first, then leans into your palm, eyes squeezing shut as if he might cry. Your heart cracks at the sight of him so vulnerable. âItâs okay,â you whisper. âIâm here.â
The next thing you know, his lips are on yours â not out of lust this time, but a desperate search for comfort. You meet him with equal tenderness, guiding him to the bed as your mouths linger in soft kisses. Tonight, thereâs no hurry. You undress each other slowly, shedding not just clothing but the layers of hurt and stress. When he enters you, itâs with a care that brings tears to your eyes â slow, deep thrusts that carry as much solace as pleasure. He intertwines his fingers with yours beside your head, holding on like you might slip away, and you whisper soothing words between breathless moans. By the end, when you both lie spent and entwined in the dark, he finally speaks the words that have hung unspoken in the air for weeks: a shaky confession murmured into your hair. âI need you⊠I need you so much.â
You tighten your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. âIâm not going anywhere,â you promise quietly. In that moment, it feels true â that no matter how wrong it is, youâve become the most important person in each otherâs lives. In the silent aftermath, you both drift to sleep tangled in warmth and in each other, blissfully unaware that the fragile world youâve built is about to come crashing down.
_____
It all falls apart on a gray Sunday morning. You wake to the sound of your bedroom door creaking open and your motherâs voice calling your name softly. Your eyes fly open in panic â in your half-asleep haze, you realize that Beom-seok is still in your bed, lying beside you with an arm draped over your waist. The two of you are tangled in the sheets, bare skin pressed together under the thin cover. In the weak morning light, thereâs no mistaking the intimacy of the scene.
Your mother stands frozen in the doorway, a tray with what looks like breakfast for you shaking in her hands. The smile sheâd been wearing collapses into horror as her brain processes what sheâs seeing: her daughter in bed with her stepson. A strangled sound escapes her â the tray slips from her fingers, dishes shattering on the floor.
Beom-seok jolts awake at the crash. You both sit up abruptly, the sheet slipping down to your waists. Your motherâs face has gone ashen. âMomââ you choke out, reaching a hand toward her, but she recoils like youâve struck her. âWhatâŠwhat is this?â she whispers, voice trembling. âOh my God⊠what have you done?â
Her broken sob galvanizes the rest of the house. Heavy footsteps pound up the stairs â his fatherâs. He appears behind your mother, first confusion crossing his features at the mess of breakfast on the floor, then dawning fury as he takes in the tableau beyond her. âIs this some kind of sick joke?â he barks. Your mother is crying now, hand over her mouth. âThey were⊠they were in bedââ
The next seconds are a blur. His father pushes past your mother and lunges into the room. Beom-seok barely has time to throw himself out of bed and in front of you before his fatherâs hand cracks across his face. The sound is like a gunshot in the small room. You scream, scrambling to hold the sheets to your chest as Beom-seok staggers but remains firmly planted between you and his raging father.
âYou disgusting little filth,â his father seethes, grabbing him by the shoulder and wrenching him away from the bed. âHow dare youâ in my house? With your own sisterââ
âStep-sister,â you croak out automatically, tears blurring your vision. Itâs a pathetic, irrelevant correction, and his fatherâs attention snaps to you. You shrink under the burning hatred in his eyes. âAnd you,â he spits, âI welcomed you into my family, and this is how you repay me? Spreading your legs for him like a whore under my roof?â
The words hit you like slaps. Your mother finds her voice at that, stepping in front of her husband with an anger youâve never heard from her. âDonât you dare talk to my daughter that way!â she shouts, voice cracking. âTheyâre just kidsââ
âKids who are plenty old enough to know what the hell theyâre doing,â he roars back. He shakes off her attempts to hold him back and turns on Beom-seok again, fury radiating from every line of his body. âHave you lost your mind? You degenerate!â
Beom-seok stands oddly calm now, though a red handprint is blooming on his cheek. He doesnât defend himself or you; he merely lowers his head, eyes on the floor. You realize with a pang that this is the well-practiced response his father has beaten into him: endure, go silent, weather the storm. But you canât stay silent.
âItâs my fault,â you sob, desperate to draw the ire away from him. You scramble off the bed, clutching the sheet to cover yourself. âI-I seduced him. IâŠI made him do it.â Itâs a frantic, foolish lie, but youâll say anything to keep his father from hurting him further.
Beom-seokâs head snaps up at that. âNo,â he rasps, voice thick. âThatâs notââ
His father silences him with a vicious yank on his arm. âQuiet. I donât want to hear a single word from you.â Cold, terrifying rage laces each syllable. He throws a glare at your mother. âSeparate them. Now. I will not have thisâthis abhorrence continue for another second.â
Your mother, pale and shaking, nods and rushes to you. She grabs your arm with trembling hands and pulls you away, trying to wrap a discarded blanket around your shoulders to cover your nakedness. âHow could you, how could youâŠâ sheâs whispering, voice choked with anguish. Youâre crying too hard to respond, reaching desperately over her shoulder to see Beom-seok.
His father is already dragging him out of the bedroom by the arm. He stumbles once, his eyes meeting yours in frantic dismay. He shouts your name hoarsely, the sound of it like a plea ripped from his throat. You struggle against your motherâs grip, wanting to go to him, but she holds you back with surprising strength. âBeom-seok!â you scream, voice cracking. âStop! Pleaseâ!â
But mercy doesnât come. His father hauls him down the hall as if he weighs nothing. Before they disappear from view, you see Beom-seok reach out toward you futilely, his face twisted in despair. Then heâs gone, wrenched out of sight, and a moment later you hear the slam of his bedroom door. Locked away like a prisoner.
Your mother turns you to face her, gripping your shoulders. Sheâs crying openly, a mix of rage and sorrow contorting her features. âWhat have you done?â she demands, voice breaking. You have no answer besides broken apologies and sobs. She pulls you into her arms, whether to comfort you or herself, you canât tell. You cling to her, knees buckling as the weight of whatâs happening crashes over you. Through the fog of your own sobbing, you hear his father making calls, voice ice cold: arranging to send Beom-seok away somewhere effective immediately. Each word is another nail in the coffin of your heart.
Itâs over. You know it, even as you pray to wake up from this nightmare. The secret world you and him built is destroyed, exposed to the harsh light of day and parental outrage. And in the span of minutes, youâve lost him.
_____
Two days later, Beom-seok is gone. His father wastes no time carrying out his solution: that very afternoon, he drives his son out of the city, dispatching him to live with an uncle three provinces away. There was talk of enrolling him in some rigorous program or perhaps sending him abroad â you caught fragments of heated discussions between your parents while you hid behind your bedroom door. The specifics hardly matter. What matters is that heâs gone from your life.
You arenât allowed to see him before he leaves. In the chaos after you were caught, your mother refused to let you out of her sight. You cry and beg, half-dressed and hysterical, just to talk to him, to say something â anything â but no one listens. Your stepfather bundles Beom-seok out the door as if escaping a burning building, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a bag your mother wordlessly packed through her tears. The last glimpse you have is through your bedroom window: his figure being shoved into the backseat of the car, wrists hanging limp at his sides, head lowered in defeat. You donât even know if he looks back; youâre crying too hard to tell.
Now, the house is oppressively quiet. Too quiet. Your mother hasnât spoken to you beyond the bare minimum, heartbreak radiating off her in waves. Your stepfather barely acknowledges your existence, which is perhaps a blessing given the disgust that still darkens his eyes if he so much as glances your way. You spend most of your time holed up in your room, staring at the ceiling through red, raw eyes.
Every corner of this house is haunted by him. The bedroom where he first took you, the kitchen where you shared forbidden kisses, the hallway where he first pressed you against the wall and changed everything⊠Even the scent of him seems embedded in your pillows, torturing you with phantom memories of happier nights. The emptiness left in his wake is staggering. You wander into his bedroom when no one is watching, standing in the middle of the stripped-bare space. It feels hollow, robbed of the warmth it once held when he was there brooding in the dark or clutching you in his sheets. You sink to the floor where his bed used to be and curl into yourself, fingernails digging into your arms to keep from screaming.
You ache in places you didnât know a person could ache. A part of you keeps expecting him to be there when you turn a corner â to find his glare fixed on you from across the dinner table, or to feel his hand brush yours in passing. But each time reality reminds you heâs not coming back, the knife in your heart twists a little deeper. At night you lie awake, eyes burning, chest hollow. You press your face into the pillow and imagine itâs his shoulder. You wrap your arms around your own body, pretending itâs him holding you. But the illusions shatter as quickly as they form, leaving you sobbing quietly into the silence.
Thereâs talk of therapy, of moving to a new town to escape the scandal â your mother murmurs things outside your door, but you hardly register them. Nothing really matters. The only person who made this house feel like home, who made you feel seen and needed and alive in a way you never had before, has been ripped away. And youâre supposed to simply go on.
On the third night after his departure, you find yourself in front of your window, looking out at the dark empty street. You wonder where he is at this exact moment. Is he lying in some unfamiliar room, staring at a ceiling that isnât yours? Is he hurting just as much as you are? The image of his face in that final moment â eyes filled with despair, arm outstretched as if reaching for you â is seared into your mind. You hug yourself tighter, the ache in your chest nearly doubling you over.
âI need you⊠I need you so much,â he confessed to you in the dark. You press a fist to your mouth as a sob threatens to break loose. You wonder if, wherever he is, he needs you now. You wonder if he knows that you feel the same â that youâre half a person without him here. You never got to say it, but youâd hoped he understood.
Fresh tears spill down your cheeks. Thereâs no closure, no goodbye â just a rift carved through your life where he used to be. Maybe in another world, another life, you could have been happy together, free to love each other without fear. But not in this one.
In this life, all you have is the memory of his touch, now painfully out of reach. And the knowledge that somewhere out there, Beom-seok carries the same shattered pieces of your shared secret, the same ache in his soul. You close your eyes and let the grief wash over you, drowning in it, because itâs the only piece of him you have left.
The house remains silent and still around you, bearing witness to the quiet tragedy. And as dawn approaches, you finally crawl back into your cold, empty bed, the finality of what youâve lost settling heavily in your bones. Heâs gone, and with him, a part of you is gone too. All that remains is the hollow echo of what could have been, and a secret love that must now live on only in memory.
#oh beomseok smut#oh beomseok x reader#oh beomseok#weak hero class fanfic#weak hero class imagines#weak hero fanfic#weak hero smut#weak hero imagines#weak hero x reader#weak hero class 1#whc1 x reader#whc smut#angst#weak hero angst
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my pain, your gain
kang dae-ho x f!reader
your missing boyfriend reappears after ten days, suddenly becoming a millionaire
you went to work, a busy cafe, just like any other normal day
the 14:00-22:00 shifts are the ones you hate the most. the type of shift where you feel like there is no business, validating your reasoning as to why you shouldn't be here.
however, when you remember the amount of expenses you have to pay for. rent, groceries, cleaniness, hygiene, etc... you suddenly have a good work ethic.
before you left for your shift, you kissed your boyfriend dae-ho goodbye.
it was normal for you, except you did not notice the tense pulling on his eyebrow and his clenched jaw. you did not notice the debate shown on his face.
when you got home, around midnight due to public transport chaos, throwing your cafe apron by the washer for later.. you called out for dae ho.
the apartment was quiet.. too quiet. as if you lived alone.
"baby?"
"dae?"
"honey, are you home?"
when you checked your bedroom to see that he was gone, you assumed that he visited one of his sisters outside of the city while you worked. fine, at least he could have told you.
the sleep you had was normal, yet cold, due to the absence of dae-ho.
you woke up, feeling at ease until you reach over, your hand hitting the cold soft sheets instead of the body of your lover.
hours turn into a day, and you're broken.
you canât stop replaying your last conversation with dae ho before you left for work, over and over, trying to find clues about why he left.
the tired body of yours can barely function at work, forgetting orders, zoning out, and apologizing when your boss points it out. your coworkers look worried, but you wave it off, saying youâre just stressed.
sleep is a distant memory. you lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, imagining him walking back through the door like nothing happened.
each day goes by, and when youâre home, you sit on the couch or the floor, staring at the tv, not even watching whatâs on.
your mind is stuck on dae-ho..where he is, if heâs okay, or if he really just left you behind.
some nights, you stand by the window, hoping to see him walking back into your life. you tell yourself itâs pointless, but you canât help it.
you try calling his friends, even people you barely know, asking if anyone has seen him. no one has any answers, and a few of them suggest maybe he left you on purpose. it breaks something in you every time you hear it.
not your dae-ho, he would have told you if there was a problem in your relationship.
sometimes you sit in his favorite chair, holding onto one of his hoodies, and crying silently.
its day 10.. when you get home from your late shift two weeks later, itâs the same routine.
you drop onto the floor in your apron, zoning out in front of the glowing tv.
just an hour after your deadly routine, you hear the sound of your door clicking.
your heart stops, and for a moment, your eyes snap towards the door, you think youâre imagining it.
then you see him... your dae ho.
he looks older, more worn, like the world has weighed him down in the ten days heâs been gone.
your stomach twists when he steps closer, his eyes meeting yours, and you instinctively back away.
âyouâre alive?â
you watch as he flinches, his hand pausing mid-reach.
âi can explain,â
he says, his voice desperate, and you motion for him to go on.
dae ho pulls a thick wad of cash from his jogger pocket, placing it in your hands. you feel the weight of it, flipping through the stack with trembling fingers.
âhow much is this? where did you get it?â your voice cracks, and your chest tightens as he hesitates.
âitâs 25 million won,â he says, and you gasp, the money slipping from your hands onto the floor.
âwhere did you get this kind of money? is this⊠blood money?â
he pauses, his expression guilty but honest.
âkind of,â he admits.
"I earned it though from playing games.. I did not hurt anyone I swear!"
âgames? what do you mean?â
deep down, you know dae ho never lies. why would he start now?
he promises to explain everything, but he says, ânot tonight. iâll tell you everything, i swear. but tomorrow, when the sun comes up, iâll pay off my debt. iâll pay off yours. weâll leave this place, and iâll give you the life you deserve..."
he takes you to the atm up the street. when the screen shows 15,199,998,733 won, your knees almost give out.
he holds onto your arm, steadying you as your heart pounds.
âitâs real,â he says softly. âand itâs ours.â
"me along with four other people won the game. their names are gi hun, hyun ju, myung-gi, and jun-hee. I'll introduce you to them next week. gi hun says if we ever need anything then we can call him at anytime.
you trust him because you always have, that does not stop the unease that settles in your stomach.
you ask him again about the games.
again, ânot tonight.â
as you both walk back to the apartment, the weight of the money in your life is overwhelming. you hold onto him tightly, glad heâs back, but the mystery of what he went through lingers.
even as you fall asleep beside him that night, you canât stop thinking about the games he mentioned. theyâll haunt you, just like the ten days he was gone.
I hope you liked :)
#kang dae ho#squid game#squid game s2#squid game season 2#squid game spoilers#squid game x reader#squid game x you#squid game fic#meadowfics#multifandom account#kang ha neul#female reader
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Gentle Torture: Dbf!JoelxF!Reader Part 2
Part 1, Part 2, Complete Story
Summary: Joel Miller has been losing his mind since your father's party. When he's forced to check on you, he can't hold back anymore. Pre-Outbreak.
Warnings: Smut: Age Gap (Joel in his late 30s, reader starts out at 18), Dbf!Joel, Kissing, Oral (F!Receiving), Fingering, unprotected PinV, slightly rough, some overstimulation, choking. Pet Names: Sweetheart, baby girl, good girl, little girl.
Word Count: 3.5K
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
I have been obsessed with the dbf trope lately. This story is very much inspired by @pearlessance. Please go check her out.
Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if youâd like more stories from me. Text divider from @cafekitsune.
Days passed and you have not seen or heard from Joel once. You try to go on with your everyday tasks, but the memory of the shared kiss and Joelâs warm body pressed against you replays again and again in your head. You find yourself constantly looking for him, waiting to hear his echoed laughter as he makes dumb jokes with your father. You cannot help but overthink. Were you a bad kisser? Did you do something wrong? Did he hate you?Â
You tried to bury yourself in work. You scheduled as many hair and nail appointments as you could in the small town, even giving clients discounts. You knew Joel was avoiding you, all the same. That much was crystal clear.Â
Joel was a complete mess. Shame and anger guilted him. How could he have been so stupid? He was so possessive and desperate over you. Over his best friendâs daughter. It was pathetic. He could not get your little moans out of his head. Could not stop replaying the way you shivered at his light touches. Could not stop imagining what your little cunt would feel like wrapped around him as he plows into you. He could not sleep, could not eat. Jerking off was not even working anymore.
Joel hated that he had been ignoring you. He hated that he had to lie to your dad, telling him he was sick with the flu. He knew it was for the best, and again he started to question if there was any good in him at all. You were so young, so innocent. He knew it was wrong, so wrong. But you wanted him. Needed him, just as much as he needed you. Joel wished you hated him. Wish you had screamed at him and told him to get the fuck off you. Wish you did not let him cause those beautiful moans to leak out of you. He did not deserve it. Did not deserve you.Â
The days were dragging on and Joel missed you. Even missed hanging out with your dad. He was scared. He did not know if you ever wanted to see him again. Maybe it was just a one-time thing for you, something that just happened in the moment.Â
In the last few days, he left for work late, waiting until he heard your car pull out of the driveway next door before he even got out of bed. He came home late, an entire hour after he knew you would get home, just so he did not have to pass you outside as you walked into your house.Â
You were fucking his entire life up.Â
Joel sat idly at his kitchen table, nursing a cup of hot coffee and watching the news on TV. The sound of his cell phone ringing shakes him from the TV. He picks it up, annoyed to see a text from your dad.Â
âHey Joel, know you're not feeling too hot. Iâll be out of town this week on a work trip. I was wondering if youâd check on y/n while Iâm gone?â
Joel's face darkens. Damn it. It's not like he has an excuse to say no.Â
âYeah, no problem. Iâll stop by when I get off laterâ Joel responded, slamming his phone down on the table. Fucking great.Â
The day passes and you get home, excited for some alone time. You slip into a thin pair of shorts and a crop top, ditching your shoes in the doorway of your room. Your mind cannot help but wander to Joel. What was he doing? Where was he? You turn on the TV in the living room, curling up in a blanket, hoping it will distract you from him.
Joel drags his feet the entire day. He tries to stay at work as late as possible, but he knows itâs just slowing the inevitable. When he pulls up to his driveway, he canât help but picture you inside your house, all alone. He knows he shouldnât but his legs beckon him to your front door. He could just text you, and ask if you need anything. But instead, he was standing outside, hating himself.Â
A knock at the door startles you and you sit up straighter. You stand slowly pausing the movie as you step towards the door. You open it in shock, a tired Joel Miller in the doorway. Heâs wearing jeans, boots, and a dusty work shirt. His forehead is slightly beaded with sweat from the hot Texas sun and fuck his skin is so golden. It is clear to you he has been working all day, dark circles under his eyes.Â
âHey, my dadâs not hereâ, you mumble, hardly peeking out from behind the door.Â
âI know. He told me to check you,â Joel spoke calmly even though his skin was crawling to slam the door open, come inside, and have his way with you.Â
âIâm fine,â you responded with a roll of your eyes and a hint of fire in your tone.Â
Joel stands there, hands buried deep in his pockets, eyes locking onto yours. His gaze darkens at your tone, fist tightening into balls. âText if you need anything. You know where I'll be.â His voice comes out with a low, gruff frustration.Â
âIâm not a child and I donât need anything,â you scowl, closing the door harshly behind you before stumbling back towards the couch. Who did he think he was? He could be all sweet one second, kiss you like he was possessed, and then not talk to you for days? You were over it. Completely fucking over it.Â
Joel stands at the door for a moment, jaw clenched in anger, annoyance, and desire. Even when you were pissed at him, you were so fucking beautiful. So perfect. He thinks about knocking again but forces himself to turn around and walk home.Â
Joel lays in bed later that night, staring up at the ceiling in defeat. He cannot get you out of his mind. The way you looked at him so hurt earlier fucking killed him.Â
His mind thinks back to that night, your tiny frame and silky smooth skin. The way you came on his fingers, god the way you moaned his fucking name. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight and before he processed what he was doing, he was getting dressed and walking back to your house.Â
The moon cast a silver glow over the street, each stride Joel took leaving his heart racing. He swore he could feel his blood pumping and his ears rang. He stood on the porch praying you were still awake. He had no idea what time it was, didn't even bother to check his phone when he left. His chest grew tight and he gently knocked on the door.
Of course, you were still up, tossing and turning with annoyance in your bed. Joel didnât know it but you were just as exhausted as he was. Your heart pounded in your chest as a quiet knock stirred you out of your daydreams. You quickly walk to the front door, flipping on the living room light. You looked through the peephole, surprised to see Joel, his head down. You open the door, slightly smiling.
Joel looks up, surprised to see you standing in a pair of black panties and a loose-fitted t-shirt. The sight of you like this drove him crazy, his mind going blank for a moment.Â
Heâs so lost in you, he doesn't even realize that he's walked inside the house. His eyes roam over your body and he tries to think of any words to say.Â
âJoelâŠâ you whisper, your voice soft and breathy. His name was a plea, a trembling surrender to him.Â
It causes Joel to snap back to reality. He takes a deep breath, his eyes wandering down to your exposed legs. It takes every ounce of restraint to not pull you into his arms and take you right here on the front door.Â
âSorry, I-I came over here like thisâŠCanât sleep. I, fuck. I had to come see you,â Joel stands awkwardly, running a hand through his hair, his voice shy and sheepish. You had never heard him sound nervous before. Despite the obvious need he felt to touch you, he stayed locked in place, a few steps away from you.Â
âMe eitherâ you muttered, nervously playing with your fingers.Â
Joel lets out a quiet sigh, his eyes scanning the room like he had never been here before. Heâs completely unsure of what to say or do, his mind too drunk on how sexy you look in front of him.Â
The two of you stand in silence, both too nervous to move.Â
âWhere have you been?â You ask, the environment of the room drying out your throat.Â
Joel shifts uncomfortably at your question, his gaze wandering to your eyes before landing on the floor below you. âBeen busy,â is all he can force himself to respond with.Â
âRight, busyâ you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.Â
Joel knows you don't buy it. It was obvious to the both of you that he was ignoring you. What the fuck was he supposed to say? He feels so fucking guilty. Guilty for ignoring you. Guilty for leaving you in the kitchen like that. Guilty for not being able to fuck you properly that night.Â
âFuck, Iâm sorry sweetheart. I shouldnât have ignored you like that. I justâŠYou donât know what itâs like, even standing and talking to you, I can't stop thinking about taking you in that room and fucking you until you beg me to stop.âÂ
Your skin grows hot at his words and you take a step closer to him. Joel's heart races, your body close enough that he can feel your warmth. Heâs trying his best to keep composure but itâs getting harder and harder with each passing second.Â
âWhat are you doing?â Joel asks, his voice low and stuck in his throat. An involuntary shiver escapes him.
âJust need to be close to you, need to feel you,â The sound of the subtle plea in your words nearly breaks Joel. A low growl escapes him and in a second he closes the gap between you. His eyes are locked on yours.Â
Joel's hand cups your face gently, his tough hands so tender on your soft skin. âYou have no idea how much I want youâ. His toned body towers over you, a shiver rushing down your spine as he leans his head down, lips hovering an inch above yours.Â
He groans, finally meeting your lips, and all his resolve breaks. His tongue seeks out yours, nipping at your bottom lip. He explores your mouth, mapping out every inch, filled with a hunger Joel can't seem to control. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him and his muscles quiver in an effort of restraint. He wants to take you right here, bend you over and fuck you from the back. But he knows he has to be gentle, has to give you as much pleasure as possible.Â
Joelâs arms wrap around you, lifting you off the ground with ease. He holds you tightly, placing your legs around his waist. His hands make a home on your ass and he carries you to your room, his steps slow and calculated in the dimly lit house.Â
He uses a hand to open the door and gently lays you on the bed. Your brain is all fucked out already. His eyes roam over your form, studying every inch of you like you might disappear.Â
Joel gently hovers over you, supporting his weight on his forearms as you resume kissing him. His lips explore your neck, making his mark on you with soft bites and sucks. You melt beneath him, moaning soft cries.Â
You lift your hips up, the thin material of your panties allowing you to feel the hard bulge in Joelâs sweatpants. He lets out a groan, allowing you to groan against him. He never wanted it to stop. Joelâs hands roamed down your body, leaving a line of fire in the wake of his fingers and he traveled from your neck to chest, to your waist.Â
âSuch a good girl,â Joel praised, lifting himself onto his knees. He gently pulls at the soft fabric of your shirt. âMay I?â Joel asks softly, meeting your eyes.Â
You nod your head, arching your back off the bed. Joel is practically crying when he lifts the t-shirt over your head, your perfect tits on display. Your nipples were the perfect shade of pink, erect in the cool air.Â
Joel swallowed hard, undoing the buttons of his flannel and throwing it off his shoulders. You had never really gotten a chance to see him without a shirt on. God, he was toned, his strong arms flexing with every movement.Â
Joel wrapped his lips around a perfect perky nipple, a sweet hint of vanilla to your skin. Little âohsâ escaped you, your hand traveling down to Joelâs toned back. He licked at the soft bud, massaging the other gently. He didn't realize just how big your tits were til he was face deep inside them, leaving soft hot kisses on the fat.Â
He pitched your nipple, twisting it softly between two fingers. You relaxed into his touch, gently caressing his back and moaning his name over and over. Joel would never get tired of the way each letter spilled out of your mouth.Â
Joel released your swollen nipple with a pop, quickly swallowing the other. Your hips grinded against him more and you could only take so much teasing.
âNeed moreâ, you pleaded, back arching and hips writhing.
Joel was quick to give you what you wanted, bringing a hand down to rub you through the thin fabric of your panties, dampness creating a dark circle at your entrance. Your eyes slowly move down, watching Joelâs hand gently massage the swollen outside of your pussy.Â
You whine at the view, Joel's large hand gently playing with your lips. He used a finger to hook the material, pulling your panties down in a swift motion. He tosses them somewhere, dragging his body until his knees are planted on the ground. He grabs your thighs, pulling you until your ass is just hanging off the bed.Â
âBet you taste so fucking good. Gonna let me eat that pretty little pussy?âÂ
âPlease,â you whined, needing his touch more than air.Â
Joel placed soft, wet kisses on your thighs, wrapping his forearms around the back of your thighs, holding your legs apart. You stayed still, waiting as he blew cold air on your clit, gently separating your slippery lips when his fingers. His breath was a new sensation, your body craving more. His soft lips hovered above your pussy, licking a long thick stripe from your entrance to your clit. Joel's tongue was soft and warm against your sensitive skin, licking small cat licks between your slit.
Joel brushed his tongue in a circle around your clit, your hand gently grabbing at his hair and the other pulling at the blanket below you. He flicked his tongue up and down, left and right, faster than you could have anticipated. Loud slurping sounds filled the room and you wondered how Joel was even breathing.
His nose brushes against your clit, lapping his tongue at the entrance of your cunt without warning. He pushed it in and out, tasting every drop of arousal your pussy could provide him.Â
âBetter than I ever fucking imagined,â he vibrated against your core, sending a shock wave through you. He hummed, tracing your clit again.
Joel licked the sides of your entrance, gently sliding the tip of his middle finger inside you. You let out a gasp, moaning his name and tightening the grip on his hair. Joel quickly found the best pace, paying great detail to the way your mouth hung open and eyebrows furrowed. Your legs clenched around him in desperation as Joel sunk his finger further inside.Â
âSo beautiful,â he mumbled to himself. Joel couldn't believe he was knuckle deep in his best friend's daughter, a girl half his ageâŠagain. Fuck, you weren't even 20 yet.Â
Joel brushed the thought away, pumping his finger in and out, swirling and curling them to open you up as much as he could. He searched for your sweet spot, hitting it over and over as he lapped his tongue in your slit.
You bucked your hips, so close to release. Joel knew it. He pumped his finger faster, sucked your clit more, and spit roughly on your pussy, his saliva running down the back of your ass cheek. Â
Your orgasm shot through you, wave after wave hitting you like lightning. Joelâs grip on you tightened, unwilling to let you slip out of his hands until he was sure you had ridden your orgasm all the way through. By the time he came up for air, his hair was a mess and his chest was rising and falling, leaving him all out of breath.Â
âThatâs my good girl,â He groaned, hovering above you and kissing you deeply.Â
God, he was obsessed with how responsive you were.Â
Joel stood at the edge of the bed, carefully removing his shoes and pulling down the sweatpants that hung loosely from his waist. You watched as he undressed, the bulge in his boxers undeniable. Joel Miller could not believe all the choices he made in life had led himâŠhere. Standing above you, your legs sprawled out, pussy wet and glistening for him.
You swallow your nervousness, eyes locked on his member as he kicks off his boxers. His cock sprung free, precum gathering at the top. He was bigger than you imagined, not huge but definitely more than the average. Joel's cock stopped just below his belly button, the tip a shade lighter than the rest. He looked delicious, his balls a perfect size to slap your clit.
Joel smirked as he met your eyes like he was reading your thoughts.Â
âYou done this before?â Joel asked simply.
You nodded your head. âJust a couple, with my ex-boyfriendâ.
Joel hummed, a slight smirk painted on his lips. âThatâs goodâ. Joel felt himself ease a bit, no longer nervous he was the first man to be inside you. It made him feel less creepy, less like a piece of shit.Â
âItâs been, kinda a while and he wasnât⊠as big as you.â You whispered, your voice coxed with fear and trembling.
âThatâs okay, sweet girl. Iâm gonna be so gentle with ya.â Joel responded tenderly, placing a light kiss on your neck.
Your stomach fluttered in anticipation. He was soâŠnew to you.Â
Joel stepped closer, hovering about you and bringing your legs up, bending them at the knees so your ankles hung next to his shoulders. He placed a soft kiss on your ankle, caressing his hand up and down your shin.Â
Joel lined his thick cock with your entrance, the tip teasing you. âYou think you're ready for me, baby?â Joel asked, softly cupping your cheek.Â
You nodded in agreement, softly closing your eyes.
âNeed to hear you say it, babyâ Joel spoke, a serious tone hidden behind the layer of desire.
âIâm ready Joel. PleaseâŠput it in.âÂ
Joel hummed in response, biting the inside of his cheek. He gently grabbed the base of his cock, pushing the tip just inside your tight hole. He was seeing stars already. God, how could you feel this good?
You inhale sharply, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders, and dragging your nails down with more force than you intended. You hoped it didn't hurt, but the thought of leaving a mark on him drove you crazy.
âRelax, baby. I got you. I got you.â Joel groaned into your neck, pushing himself further inside you. He placed a kiss on your lips, swallowing your cries of pleasure. Joel stayed in place as long as he could, his body screaming to push its way inside, fuck you until you were a mess of tears.
You have never been stretched out this much. Joelâs hard cock hit the back of you with a rough pressure, causing a yelp to escape you and your hands to reach out towards his stomach, pushing him out some. Joel tried to stay gentle but he knew you could take him. He grabbed your wrist, pushing it away from him and sinking back inside.Â
âToo big,â you cried, a single tear forming in your eyes as Joel pulled out of you, the tip crashing back down and hitting your soft walls. You were so fucking tight around him, you were practically sucking him in.Â
âYou got it, baby girl. You can take it.â Joel growled, slamming gently into you with clenched teeth. âTake my cock, baby.âÂ
The bed creaked below you, the frame hitting the wall with an audible thud. Joel pushed your thighs down, ankles bouncing with each thrust. He was completely fucked. He would crave you every night now. God, why was he doing this?
Your vision blurred, a jolt of electricity pooled in your stomach, a fire igniting so hot in you. âFuck yes!â you screamed, creamy white arousal gathering at the bottom of Joel's cock. The sight sent him into hyperdrive, thrusting into you like his life depended on it. Joel paid your orgasm no mind, continuing his thrust as you whined and wiggle under him, completely overstimulated by his touch, the way his cock was hitting you at that perfect angle. You were sure youâd never have sex like this with anyone other than him again.Â
âFucking good slut, taking me so well,â Joel growled, his thrust too hard for you to handle. âTold you, you couldâ Joel laughed, wrapping a hand around your throat and giving it a light squeeze. You gasped, swallowing as air slowly escaped you. He knew he shouldn't be here and this was why. He was trying so hard to be gentle, but he still couldn't stop himself from making a complete mess of you. Before you knew it, you were screaming out his name again, tightening your walls around him and cumming harder than ever before. âAh!â, you whined, feeling Joel crash into your cervix hard.Â
Your high-pitched moans reduced to soft cries, hips bucking, pleading for a break. You tried to wiggle out of his grip, tried to push him off a bit, but Joel was unmoveable. He grabbed your wrist, pushing them above your head and holding your hands in his. His finger intertwined with yours, engulfing you in his grasp. You clenched your walls around Joel, body almost rejecting his thick cock.
âLove this cunt, baby. Fucking love yaâ Joel growled into your neck, his thrust becoming messy and uneven. âFuck, gonna fucking cum baby. Where you want it?â Joel asked, sweat pulling at his forehead. He had hoped to last long, craved to have you cumming over and over again around him. But you were so warm, so fucking tight around him. He would have believed you if you told him you were a virgin.
âOh fuck,â you cried Joelâs dick hitting you with so much force you thought you might be bruised.Â
Joel groaned, pulling his cock out and quickly cumming on your stomach before you got a chance to process what was happening.Â
âGoddamn, you were made for me,â Joel whispered, crashing on the bed next to you and pulling your shaky body on top of him. "My sweet little girl."
You stay like this for a while, Joel gently caressing your hair as your eyes get heavier and heavier. Finally, you both could rest.Â
#smut#joel the last of us#joel x reader#joel#joel tlou#joel miller#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#the last of us hbo#tlou fanfiction#joel miller fic
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Compression Shorts | Jack Hughes



Pairing;Â Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader
Warning(s);Â Allusion to smut, established relationship, not sure what else, edited once
Summary;Â Reader gets turned on by Jack's compression shorts
Word Count;Â 0.4k
Authors Note: Might be posting a birthday blurb for him later as well đ©” -Honey
You shuffle into the living room mid-yawn, hoodie sleeves pulled down over your hands and sleep still clinging to the corners of your eyes. The apartment exists in that particular morning silence, broken only by the low murmur of game commentary drifting from the TV, last night's Devils game replaying as though it might end differently this time.
Jack is sprawled on the couch, gaze fixed on the screen with the intensity of someone decoding ancient text. His hair forms damp waves from his post-skate shower, droplets occasionally falling onto the shoulders of his worn team hoodie. An untouched protein shake sits on the coffee table next to his phone, condensation forming a perfect ring on the wood. His laptop rests beside him, paused video clips waiting for his analysis.
But your eyes don't register any of those details first.
No, they lock onto the compression shorts.
Black. Tight. Unforgiving in how they cling to the sculpted terrain of his thighs, his hips, the sharp cut of his muscles. His shirt has ridden up just enough to reveal the subtle hollow of his lower abdomen, the kind of casual intimacy that shouldn't hijack your thoughts at 9 a.m., but here you are, mind suddenly wide awake.
You linger in the doorway, shoulder pressed against the frame. "So... this the new film study dress code?"
Jack doesn't glance up. "What?"
You arch an eyebrow, gaze deliberately tracking down his body. "The shorts. Very serious athlete behavior happening here."
That captures his attention. He looks down at himself, then up at you, a slow smirk spreading across his face.
"It's laundry day," he says, with a shrug that manages a tiny bit of arrogance. He knows exactly what you're alluding to.
"Sure it is," you murmur, stepping into the room. "Complete coincidence you're sitting there like an Instagram thirst trap?"
His grin widens, lazy and unrepentant. He stretches one arm along the back of the couch, sinking deeper into the cushions like he's settling in for something. "If I'd known this would get your attention, I would've started watching game tape like this weeks ago."
You settle beside him, tucking your legs beneath you, but your eyes betray you, flicking back to his thighs. Once. Twice.
Jack notices. Of course he does.
"You're staring," he says, voice tinged with amusement.
"You're not wearing real clothes."
He turns toward you, the smirk deepening into something more deliberate. "What, is this making you nervous?"
You roll your eyes, but there's heat rising to your cheeks. "I'm just saying, maybe don't be surprised if I accidentally shut that laptop and climb into your lap."
Jack closes the laptop immediately, and sets it aside with purpose.
"Well," he says, voice dropping to a register that sends a current through your body, "I was done watching anyway."
You can find the rest of the fic (smut, 18+) on my Patreon, or via the direct link: Here
#jack hughes#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes imagines#jack hughes fanfiction#jack hughes fic#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes x you#jack hughes smut
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the view between villages




platonic ! f1 grid x reader
summary: f1 is a dangerous sport - it's common knowledge. but accidents - bad accidents - aren't as common. seeing the youngest (and only female) driver crash and not immediately respond is something the boys never thought they'd have to experience, and the rest of the world is just as devestated.
cw: major accident, graphic descriptions of injury and vehicular damage, graphic descriptions of car accident, mentions of death, blood and gore, negative emotions such as sadness and regret, angst, mentions of religion,
song pairing is "the view betwen villages" by noah kahan
(not based on any particular race)

today's race felt off to begin with. When y/n had attempted to leave her aging yorkie, comet, in her hotel room - like she had done for the past couple months - he began to whine.
"poor baby," she mocked, but turned the small TV on and switched it to the channel that would be broadcasting the race live. "look, com. watch me on the tv."
the dog had complied and jumped onto the un-made bed, but when she left and closed the door, he had whined once or twice before calming down.
she made a mental note to get him checked out at the vet, but got distracted when she showed up to the paddock and got a look at the track.
"the weather wasn't as shit yesterday during quali," she said off-handedly to max verstappen, who was chatting to the engineers.
"are you worried?" y/n was a good racer, it was clear - but whenever max saw how small she looked in comparison to everyone else on the team he had a small sense of dread. it wasn't new, just annoying.
"nah." she grinned at him, her hair already pulled back into a french braid for ease during the race.
---
"lights out.... and away we go!"
the lights blink out and y/n is already gunning it, attempting to bypass the boys from mclaren.
she discovered early on that locking up would be her main issue today, and she made it clear on her radio.
"i keep locking up."
her voice was calm but shook a little as she struggled to steer, and she spoke only in short sentences to prevent stuttering.
"copy."
finally, she worked out a system to braking that prevented the struggle, but in speeding up, found that she'd made her way into a mass of cars.
"watch out, y/n. keep out of trouble - wait until everybody else has moved out of each others way."
"ok. pulling back-" the radio crackled and then went silent as a car careened into the side of her.
---
the audiences at home got to watch a replay of the impact.
somewhere in australia, a family consisting of two parents, a teenaged boy and a little girl are watching the race.
the boy reacts first, jolting. "was that logan sargeant and y/n y/ln?"
"yeah... turn up the volume?"
the mother grabs the remote and obliges, terse.
"was that the girl driver?" the barely 5 year old asks, brows furrowed.
"baby, go play in the other room." her father dismisses her, and when she slowly shuffles out, eyes trained on the screen as the commentators relay the details, her dad huffs.
"now. and don't look at the screen anymore."
she squeals and runs out, and the boy starts to jiggle his knee up and down as they wait for more information.
across the world, houses go silent.
---
"and it looks like logan sargeant attempts to pull away from the crowd but misjudges the distance between himself and y/ln. we can see him here slam right into the right side of the body of her car, and she goes spinning out, right into barricades. oh! and if we slow it down, you can see that the force of her chassis hitting the barricades not only forces the car to lift fully off of the ground, but it also tips - the top of the vehicle flips up into the barricade until it falls back into place. that is a nasty hit for rookie red bull driver y/n y/ln."
the commentators keep talking, thinking nothing of the accident, until the cameras switch to the red bull team, who are trying to get into contact with the girl.
"y/n, are you okay?"
silence.
"can you respond? y/n we need a vocal response. anything, okay kid? even if you can just hold down on the radio button so we know you're there."
no response.
the commentators continue.
"and it looks like we're getting no response from red bull driver y/n, who has just crashed."
---
his whole body jerks on the impact, and he spins out off the track, coming to a shaky stop.
"shit, shit, shit!" his voice cracks.
"are you okay, mate?" the radio crackles at him as he's fighting back tears.
"yeah - was that y/n i hit?"
"yes, we can confirm the crash involved both you and y/ln. we are receiving word that it is a red flag crash."
"is she okay?" he doesn't get a response at first, so he tries again. "is y/n okay?"
"no word yet. sorry, logan."
"fuck! i'm so sorry - i really thought it was clear, i just... fuck."
"calm down, sargeant. wait for pick-up and keep yourself collected. we'll tell you as soon as we find anything out, okay mate?"
"sure."
he lifts himself from the smoking chassis and the world watches as he kicks it out of frustration before letting his head lower.
there's a sickening feeling in his stomach as he sees the girls unmoving vehicle.
he pictures her inside, and the fact that she's so much smaller than the older men cause his mind to unravel with pictures of her limp and unconscious.
---
inside the car, y/n blinks her eyes open, groaning.
her ears are ringing and her head hurts, and the body of her car is so warped that it's vacuum sealed her into the vehicle.
in the back of her mind, y/n feels the pain in her right thigh and left ankle, and her right shoulder feels dislocated.
"kid, we need an answer." the radio's muted and crackling, and when y/n tries to respond, she realizes that something on her end is fucked because they're still begging for an answer.
she goes to climb out of the car, but a sob tears out of her chest at the immense pain that suddenly blooms throughout her whole body.
she falls heavily back onto the seat and pants, closing her eyes.
she feels slight relief from the pain when she fully relaxes and closes her eyes, and nestles into her seat a little to get comfortable.
the need to sleep takes over her and she obeys, nodding off.
---
inside her hotel room, comet's ears pull back in concern as he hears his owners name being called out repeatedly from the television.
---
"red flag, max. we need to restart the race."
verstappen stills, his ears suddenly ringing. he has a bad feeling about the red flag but just can't place it.
"what's happened?"
"there was a crash between a williams and y/n. to the pit lanes, please." the voice on the other end seems calm, but there's a waver to it.
"fuck, are you joking? are they both okay?"
"the williams driver... logan sargeant, we're hearing, is up and out of his chassis. we've heard nothing from y/n yet."
he'd fight them, ask for more information, but knows that red bull would be the first to hear anything.
"tell me if you find anything out."
"copy."
as he drives to the pit lane, max replays her grin at him as she reassures the dutchman.
"nah." her nose is scrunched and hair pulled out of her face.
he thinks about how bulky the helmet looked on her, the barely 20 year old driver somehow never managing to put on any muscle, no matter how hard she tried.
he prays to jesus, zeus, allah, and even the virgin mary - surely she'd have sympathy to max's prayers, as she's lost someone dear to her before. any deity he can think of is immediately begged to ensure the safety of his partner.
---
a whining noise pulls y/n back into consciousness, and she furrows her brows.
"i'm trying to sleep, com. shut up." when she opens her eyes and sees the battered cockpit in front of her, she realizes that she's not hearing her dog cry, it's just the ringing in her ears that are back.
and then suddenly all she can see is comet waiting for her. comet, waiting in a hotel room that she'll never re-enter. what's gonna happen to the mutt if she dies? her parents are over-seas, she has no boyfriend to look after him. comet would be all alone.
and then all the guys on the grid are flashing through her head. she knows, vacantly, that logan crashed into her. he'd never forgive himself if she died. verstappens win streak would be fucked if he was grieving over his teammate. even lewis hamilton, who was the first driver to openly back her as the only woman on the grid.
she screws her eyes shut and lets out a heavy sob, steeling herself.
---
the commentators are no longer focused on the race.
"and i think i can speak for all of us when i ask, where is the goddamn safety car and ambulance? young driver y/n y/ln has been stuck in the wreck for about a minute and a half now, and there has still been no aid for her. which is a cause for concern about the overall safety of f1, as- oh my god!"
---
charles is already on his way back to the pit lanes, muttering manifestations under his breath for y/n to be okay.
he's shaking, filled with lead and a lump in his throat. he and y/n aren't super close, due to their team differences, but every time he spoke to her she had a certain gleam in her eye that one only had when they weren't afraid of death.
this worried him. racing was her life - would she succumb easily? it was a known fact that many drivers drove as if they had nothing to lose.
the idea of her choking on mortality in her chassis scared him more. maybe her body was broken, and the pain was all she could feel as the life drained from her? he worried for those that would have to witness the blood and bruises when she was pulled from her car.
"we've got an update on y/n."
he was pulled out of his mind. "tell me. please."
"she's getting herself out. the paramedics were taking too long, so she took it upon herself, apparently." a startled laugh falls out of charles' lips as he cheers back.
---
muscles screaming, y/n forces herself to lift out of the cockpit, allowing her body the only relief of rest once her upper half is slung over the halo. for about five seconds she stops, before she forces herself to continue.
the safety car and paramedics are here now, and camera crew for the live footage plus the netflix crew are close behind.
people are shouting at her to stop, but she continues to claw her way out of the wreckage.
she's crying and praying to a god she never knew she believed in as she forces her broken legs out of the car, sliding over the side to the ground.
she stands and looks around at the medical crew who are advancing towards her and tries to take her helmet off. she can't, and they're reassuring her that they'll do it for her.
y/n looks out at the audience and raises one arm to greet them. she's met with immediate raucous applause and, swaying for a few seconds, she falls.
---
"you would never believe it. this lady is pulling herself out of her car. as the camera zooms, you can really see the absolute strength this is taking her - hold on, we're getting audio now."
the world watches with bated breath as the coverage of her climbing out of the car begins to play. you can hear the agonised screams she lets out as she forces herself to exit, and just how broken some of her limbs look. her left ankle hangs limply, and she has to use both arms to force her right leg out of the cockpit.
"what a magnificent scene. y/n y/ln has kissed death, and still lives to tell the tale. we see her now, standing on the track as the medical staff come to her aid, and she falls. a very fair response to what she has just gone through. a round of applause to y/n y/ln, the girl who kissed death!"
---
"so lando, congratulations on p4. obviously, the whole crash between logan and y/n caused a damper on the overall race. how do you feel about it?" the interviewer pushed a mic at his face.
"the crash? yeah, it was terrifying not knowing if she was okay or not. i'm not surprised she ended up climbing out of the chassis herself," he laughs softly. "i've never known her for being patient."
"how do you feel about her new nickname?"
"nickname?"
"people are calling her 'the girl who kissed death'."
lando can't stop a high-pitched laugh from escaping. "girl who kissed death? that's stupid. oh god, i can't wait for her to find out about that. she'll be proper pissed off."
"right, well, thanks lando. have fun celebrating!" the interviewer bids him farewell.
---
a few months later:
over the healing process, y/n was forced to give multiple statements, post social media posts, and even a quick video from the hospital bed, but when she sees comet, her resolve finally fails.
she begins to tear up as the scruffy dog barks at her, jumping up and down.
"someone's excited to see you," lewis hamilton, the temporary guardian of the dog, grins.
roscoe stomps his feet and licks y/n, panting at her.
"awe, little babies. i was so scared of dying and leaving comet all alone, but i think he would've been fine."
lewis glances down at the kneeling girl in front of him and tsks, nudging her with his foot. "don't say that, y/n. nobody would've been fine."
"yeah?"
"yeah. have you seen all the tiktok edits of your crash? people were terrified. i was terrified."
y/n doesn't say anything, but stands to hug the british man.
he holds her back, before clearing his throat. "save that love for death. heard you've kissed it before."
"fuck off."
--- la fin ---
#formula one#f1#formula 1#formula one imagine#f1 imagine#f1 grid x reader#f1 angst#formula one angst#lewis hamilton x reader#lando norris x reader#charles leclerc x reader#logan sargeant x reader#max versappen x reader#f1 oneshot#formula one oneshot#starlightdelrey
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Window Seat (2)



Part 1
Content: Dbf!Joel x reader
Synop: Joel's been distant ever since the night he snuck into your house, into your room, to touch you in places you needed. His need for you overpowers him, making all his regret dissolve.
Warnings: age gap (not specified), pet names (praising, says slut once), use of daddy (once), no outbreak, unprotected PiV, oral (f receiving), praising, (might be forgetting some)
Word Count: 9k
(dividers by: @strangergraphics @cafekitsune)
It starts with the blinds.
At first, itâs subtle, almost invisible â something that could easily be brushed off. But when youâre sitting at your window, staring across the street like you have so many times before, it becomes impossible to ignore.
Joelâs blinds are completely shut.
For weeks, theyâve always been open â just a little. Enough that you could see the outline of his figure moving in and out of the living room, the occasional flash of him leaning over to grab a shirt from his dresser, or the silhouette of him sitting on his bed, watching TV after a long day. Those moments, however brief, had become your silent routine. His window was a steady, reassuring presence, something that felt like a connection, even when you werenât close.
But tonight, the window is dark. Nothing. Not a hint of movement. Not a flicker of light.
You shift uncomfortably, leaning forward, your face pressed against the cool glass. Your heart beats a little faster, a strange fluttering in your chest that makes you pause. You try to tell yourself itâs nothing â that maybe he just wanted some privacy tonight, or maybe heâs been busy. But deep down, you know itâs more than that. Youâve been doing this long enough to notice the changes, even the smallest ones.
You glance at your phone, checking the time â itâs past 10 p.m. Now would be the time Joel would normally swing by after his long day. He always has some excuse, a reason to come over, to have a beer with your dad or to just hang out. But tonight, thereâs nothing. No knock at the door. No text. No call.
Not a word.
You run your fingers over the glass, your thoughts growing heavier. He hasnât been by in days. Not since that night â that night you canât stop replaying in your head, a night that felt like everything had shifted. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, wasnât it? A secret between the two of you. But then the silence settled in, stretching between you like a rift, filling the spaces with confusion and doubt.
Youâve tried to convince yourself that maybe he just needs space, that maybe heâs processing what happened. But the doubt lingers in your chest, tightening with each passing hour. You canât help but feel like heâs avoiding you. Itâs not just the blinds. Itâs the lack of contact â no text, no call, no word of any kind. Joel, who used to be here, is now a ghost.
You force yourself to look away from his window, but your eyes keep wandering back. Itâs like you canât stop searching for him, even though you already know the answer. The emptiness in his house, the absence of him behind the blinds, is enough to settle the growing pit in your stomach.
You glance across the street again, wondering if maybe youâve missed something. But his house looks different now â darker. Quieter. His truck, which is usually parked out front, isnât there, and the street feels colder without it. When heâs here, even just parked in his driveway, it feels like the neighborhood is alive. But now, with his absence, everything seems still.
You glance down at your phone again. Youâve sent him a few texts in the past few days. Short ones, nothing too needy. Just simple things like, "Hey, you coming by tonight?" or "Havenât seen you in a while, everything okay?" But no responses. No pings, no notifications, nothing. Just that unsettling silence.
Joel has always been the type to show up unannounced, the kind of guy whoâd knock on the door without a second thought, asking for a drink or a place to sit after a long day. He didnât need a reason to show up, not really. He was just always there, like a fixture in the background of your life. Even if he wasnât there physically, you knew heâd be back soon.
But now? Thereâs an eerie stillness in the space heâs left behind. You donât even remember when the last time was that he came by. Was it five days ago? Six? You canât remember the last time you heard his gravelly voice, the last time you felt his presence in the house.
You try to call him, finally. Your fingers hover over the screen, but when you press his name, your stomach churns with unease. The dial tone rings longer than usual, echoing in your ear. Heâs not picking up. No voicemail. Just the sound of the phone ringing and ringing until it goes quiet.
You try again, this time sending a quick text.
âJoel, hey. Everything okay? Havenât seen you in a bit.â
Still no response. You feel the familiar, bitter sting of disappointment in your chest, but you push it down. You canât let it get to you. Itâs just⊠itâs just Joel, right? Heâs probably just busy. He probably has a lot on his plate. The rational part of your brain tries to talk you down, but thereâs a gnawing feeling at the back of your mind that tells you somethingâs wrong. Something is different.
You turn away from the window, pacing across the room. Your dad is downstairs, watching TV, blissfully unaware of the growing knot in your stomach. He hasnât mentioned Joelâs absence yet, but you can see the change in him too. Heâs been glancing at his phone more than usual, checking the time whenever he hears a car drive by. Heâs used to Joel stopping by at least once a day, even if itâs just for a quick chat. But itâs been days now. Days without a word.
And your dad is starting to notice. Starting to worry.
âHey, whereâs Joel been?â he asked you earlier, in that nonchalant tone he uses when he doesnât want to seem concerned. âHavenât seen him around.â
You shrugged, trying to play it cool. âI donât know. Maybe heâs busy.â
But your dadâs frown deepened. âHm. Yeah. I guess so.â
There was an odd weight to his words, a note of suspicion that lingered in the air long after heâd moved on to something else. But you could feel it â heâs starting to wonder if somethingâs wrong.
You make your way to the kitchen, distractedly grabbing a glass of water, but your eyes keep flicking toward the window again, toward the empty, dark space where Joelâs presence used to be. The silence in his house feels like a physical thing, pressing down on your chest.
You havenât seen him in days. You havenât heard from him in days. And now his blinds are shut.
And for the first time, you realize with a sickening lurch in your stomach: Joel is avoiding you.
The morning light filters through the kitchen window, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. You can hear the steady hum of the coffee maker, the clink of ceramic mugs being set down on the table. Your dad sits across from you, his usual worn flannel shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his face drawn with the lines of someone whoâs been up for a while. The smell of fresh coffee lingers in the air, but it does little to mask the subtle tension hanging between you.
You glance at your phone absentmindedly, scrolling through a few messages that are all empty â nothing from Joel, nothing from anyone really. Just the dull buzz of notifications that donât mean anything.
Itâs quiet, the kind of quiet where your dadâs thoughts are running a mile a minute, and you can feel the unease in the air before he speaks.
âYâknow, itâs really weird about Joel,â your dad says, breaking the silence, his voice low but firm.
You look up, pretending like you didnât notice it yourself. âWhat do you mean?â
He sets his mug down with a heavy sigh, fingers tapping absently on the ceramic. âIâve been tryin' to get ahold of him for a few days now. He usually stops by, or at least sends me a text, even if itâs just to say heâs busy. But I havenât heard a word from him. Not even a damn call.â
You try to hide your reaction, even though your heart skips a beat. Joelâs been avoiding you, and itâs clear heâs been avoiding your dad, too. You keep your voice casual, like itâs nothing out of the ordinary. âMaybe heâs just caught up with work. You know how he is, always busy with something.â
Your dad shakes his head, not convinced. âHeâs been way too quiet. The thing is, when Joelâs tied up with something, he lets me know. Heâll text, or give me a call, something. Hell, sometimes heâll even show up just to tell me heâs got a late one. But this⊠this feels different.â
You can hear the frustration in his voice now, the worry thatâs been slowly creeping in. Heâs always been laid-back, never the type to get too worked up over anything, but Joelâs absence has clearly unsettled him.
âHe didnât even send me a text to say heâd be gone for a while or that he was swamped. Just⊠nothing.â Your dad looks out the window, his mind clearly racing. âIâve heard his truck leave in the mornings, and Iâve seen it come back in the afternoons. So, I know heâs around. But he wonât even pick up my calls. What the hellâs going on with him?â
You take a slow sip of your coffee, trying to maintain your cool. You already know whatâs going on. The night still lingers in your mind, the way Joel left so suddenly, his words heavy with regret, his eyes full of something you couldnât quite read. But you canât tell your dad that.
You set your cup down gently, trying to keep your voice neutral. âDonât worry so much, Dad. Iâm sure heâs fine. Maybe heâs just going through something. Heâs not exactly great at reaching out when heâs in his head, you know that.â
Your dad looks at you, raising an eyebrow as if trying to gauge if you're telling the truth or just brushing it off. "Yeah, I know. But itâs just⊠not like him. Not this bad. Hell, heâs been over here almost every damn day since he moved into that house.â
He runs a hand through his graying hair, eyes narrowing in concern. "You sure you havenât heard from him? Or seen him around?"
You shake your head a little too quickly, your voice a little too steady. âNope. Havenât seen him. But Iâll stop by after work and see if heâs okay. You know, just check in on him. Iâm sure everythingâs fine. Maybe he just needs a break from⊠well, everything.â
Your dad nods slowly, his lips pulling into a thin line. You can tell heâs not convinced, but he doesnât press the issue.
âAlright,â he mutters, reaching for his mug again. "I guess youâre right. But I donât know, something about this just doesnât sit right with me. Itâs not like him to disappear like this, not without any kind of word." He pauses, staring down into his coffee. "Iâm just⊠I donât know. Iâve been worrying more than I should."
You smile weakly, trying to ease his mind, though your own thoughts are racing. âYou know how men are. They donât talk about their feelings. Youâd get more out of a statue.â You chuckle softly, hoping to break the tension, though it falls flat.
Your dad smiles back at you, but itâs tired, a little sad. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I just hate not knowing what's going on. But⊠I guess if youâre heading over there, itâll give me some peace of mind."
"Donât worry so much, okay? Iâll check in with him and let you know whatâs up. Maybe he just needs some time to himself, and weâre all overthinking it." You give him a reassuring nod, even though a part of you knows itâs not that simple.
"Alright," he says, sighing heavily, his shoulders slumping as he leans back in his chair. "Guess Iâll just focus on work today, and you let me know how it goes. Appreciate it, kid."
You nod again, feeling a tightness in your chest. Itâs all you can do to act like everythingâs fine, even though the sinking feeling in your gut tells you that something is seriously wrong.
You finish your coffee in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts. The weight of your dadâs worry is heavy in the air, and you know itâs not just about Joel anymore â itâs about your dad too. But you canât bring yourself to tell him what you already know. Joel has pulled away, not just from you, but from everything.
An anger settles deep in your stomach. Joel can ignore you all he wants, leave you be, but bringing your dad into this crosses the line.
The sunâs just beginning to dip below the rooftops when you hear it â the low, familiar rumble of Joelâs truck pulling into the driveway across the street.
Itâs later than usual. Much later. Most nights, Joelâs already home and settled by now, beer in hand, maybe a light on in the living room, TV murmuring softly through the window. But this time, the engine grumbles into your awareness like a ghost finally deciding to come home.
You freeze in place, caught mid-motion in your room, a book forgotten in your lap, your phone screen dimming beside you. Slowly, quietly, you rise and walk to your window, careful not to make any noise â like he might hear you from all the way across the street.
You pull the blinds apart, just a sliver, and there he is.
Joel Miller, climbing out of his truck with one hand gripping the top of the door and the other slinging his worn flannel jacket over his shoulder. The soft orange of the setting sun hits him just right â that low, amber light brushing his skin, catching the gray in his hair, outlining the curve of his shoulders, the sharp lines of his profile. He looks tired. Worn. Still so painfully good-looking it makes something twist in your chest.
He pauses at his front steps for a moment, glancing out toward the quiet street â not at your window, not at you â just a passing glance before he rubs the back of his neck and disappears through his front door.
No light flicks on in the window. The blinds stay closed.
You stand there for a moment longer, fingertips resting on the windowsill, your throat tight with something you canât quite swallow. You should be angry. Maybe you are. But mostly, you feel⊠disappointed. Not because Joel pulled away. But because he didnât even try to say goodbye.
You think about all the nights youâve watched him from this same spot â the warmth you used to feel when youâd catch a glimpse of him moving around his house, the stolen glances, the tension that built in the space between your windows like static. And then, that night. The way he looked at you. The way he touched you. The way he whispered your name like it was something he didnât want to give up.
You feel the weight of it settling on your shoulders like dusk. And youâre so damn tired of it.
With a shaky breath, you step back from the window. You tell yourself youâre just going over there to check in. That itâs what any good neighbor would do. That this has nothing to do with the ache in your chest or the unanswered texts or the way your heart clenched the second you saw him walk inside like you never happened at all.
You grab a hoodie from the back of your chair, pull it over your head, and slide on your shoes. You donât give yourself time to second-guess it.
As you cross the street, the sun sinks lower, throwing long shadows across the pavement. Joelâs truck is still warm, the engine ticking softly in the cooling air. His porch light is off, the blinds unmoving â like the house is holding its breath, waiting for something to break.
You climb the steps and hesitate at the door.
Your knuckles hover over the wood, your pulse pounding in your ears. For a second, you consider turning back. Going home. Pretending none of this ever happened. But the thought of another night of silence â another night of pretending Joel hasnât become this unreachable part of you â is worse.
So, you knock.
Soft. Hesitant. But loud enough.
And then you wait.
The knock still hangs in the air when the door swings open â not fast, not welcoming â just enough to say what do you want?
Joel stands in the doorway, his shoulders square, one hand still gripping the edge of the doorframe like he hadnât decided if he was going to open it all the way. His eyes land on you, and for a split second, something like relief flashes across his face.
Then itâs gone.
Replaced by something colder. Guarded. Almost annoyed.
ââŠWhat are you doinâ here?â he asks, his voice rough, like he hasnât spoken to anyone all day. Or maybe like he didnât want to speak to you.
You blink, caught off guard by how distant he sounds. You expected guilt maybe, or discomfort, but not this sharpness. Still, you hold your ground.
âI justâŠâ You clear your throat, looking up at him. âI wanted to check on you. Youâve been quiet lately.â
Joel exhales through his nose, leans against the frame. âIâve been busy.â
âThatâs not like you,â you say gently. âYou usually at least text my dad. Heâs starting to get worried.â
Joelâs jaw tightens, his gaze dropping for a moment before flicking back up to yours. âIâm fine.â
You study him, your eyes narrowing slightly. âYou sure?â
âI said Iâm fine,â he snaps, a little too quickly.
You donât flinch. âOkay. So youâre fine. Everythingâs okay. Then why have you been avoiding me?â
Joel goes still.
He opens the door a little more, like heâs considering asking you in, but doesnât. The hallway behind him is dimly lit. The smell of wood and leather and old whiskey drifts out, familiar and grounding, but right now it only makes your chest ache.
âIâm not avoidinâ you,â he mutters, clearly lying.
You cross your arms. âJoel.â
He lets out a tired sigh and runs a hand down his face. âJesus. Look, itâs just⊠what we didâŠâ he starts, his voice dropping low, like even saying it out loud might make it worse. âIt was dangerous.â
You stare at him, pulse pounding. âDangerous how?â
âYou know how,â he snaps, then softens almost immediately. âIt was wrong.â
âThen do you regret it?â you ask, voice quiet now. Not angry. Just⊠broken.
Joel looks at you â really looks at you â like the weight of that question has knocked the wind out of him. He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Shakes his head slowly.
âNo,â he says finally. âOf course I donât. But that doesnât make it right.â
You take a step closer. âYou not talking to me? That doesnât make it right either. Itâs not just hurting me, Joel. My dad is confused. Worried. He thinks youâre mad at him or that something happened. And you know how he is â he doesnât talk about his feelings, but I can see it. Every day. He misses you.â
Joelâs eyes close briefly like the words hit too close.
âI didnât mean to hurt him,â he says quietly.
âI know you didnât,â you say, voice softening too. âBut you are. By shutting down. By disappearing. And if this⊠whatever this thing was between us â if itâs the reason youâve pulled away, then fine.â
You swallow hard.
âIâll let it go. Iâll forget it happened. Just⊠donât disappear on him. He needs you. We need you.â
Thereâs a long silence between you. Joel doesnât move. Doesnât speak. His jaw clenches like heâs trying to hold something back â guilt or longing or both.
Then, finally, he speaks.
âI care about your dad,â he says, his voice low and thick. âMore than Iâve ever cared about another person in my life. Heâs⊠family.â
âI know,â you whisper. âThatâs why Iâm asking you to stop doing this. Just come back to us. To him. We donât have to talk about what happened. We donât have to do anything else. Just⊠be normal again.â
Joel looks at you like the words are both a lifeline and a punishment.
And for a second, you think maybe â just maybe â heâs going to reach for you. But he doesnât. He just nods once. Slow. Reluctant.
âOkay,â he says. âIâll talk to him tomorrow.â
You exhale, even though it doesnât feel like relief. âThank you.â
Joelâs hand tightens on the doorknob. His voice comes out quieter this time. âYou didnât do anything wrong.â
âI know,â you say, even if it doesnât feel true.
You turn to go. He doesnât stop you.
And as the door closes gently behind you, the space between you settles into the silence again.
Weeks pass. And life, somehow, starts to feel normal again.
Not all at once â not with some big moment or apology â but gradually. Like the way winter fades into spring: slow, cautious, not entirely sure itâs safe to bloom again.
At first, you and Joel barely look at each other.
When he comes over, you find an excuse to leave. You suddenly remember errands, drive aimlessly for hours just to avoid the creak of floorboards in your room while his voice fills the house downstairs. You wait until heâs left before returning home, stepping into the quiet space heâs left behind, air still faintly warm from where heâd stood.
You wonder if he notices you slipping around him like a ghost. You wonder if it hurts him the way it hurts you.
But he never says anything.
Your dad, though â he lights back up like someone flipped a switch. Joelâs presence returns like it never left: sitting at the kitchen table again, beer in hand, teasing your dad about the burnt edges of his barbecue. Watching sports, fixing things that donât really need fixing. He starts calling again, sending texts, stopping by after work with that slow, tired smile that used to feel like home.
And you watch from the background. At first.
Little by little, you let yourself drift back in.
Dinner at the table again. Quiet small talk. A movie night where you donât fake a headache and hide in your room. A joke shared on the porch that makes your dad laugh, Joelâs eyes flicking toward you for half a second â just long enough for your breath to hitch. You sip your drink and look away before it can become anything more.
Everything is back to normal.
At least on the surface.
But beneath it, under the calm rhythms of domestic life, something pulses.
You miss him.
You miss the way he used to say your name with that quiet warmth. The way heâd smile when you walked into the room, like you were the one heâd been waiting for. You miss catching his eye from across the table, the subtle flicker of amusement or softness that only you could read. The knowing glances shared across the porch, the late-night glimpses through open windows.
You keep your blinds closed now. So does he.
Itâs better this way, you tell yourself.
Safer.
You promised to forget. To move on. To let it go for your dadâs sake.
And you meant it. You still do.
But some nights, when the house is quiet and youâre lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, you remember the way his voice sounded in the dark. The way his hands moved like he already knew every part of you. You remember the heat, the whisper of sweet names, the way he tucked you into bed like he didnât want to leave but knew he had to.
You donât cry.
But you feel the ache of missing him like something that was half-healed and pulled open again. Not bleeding â just sore. Tender. Like a bruise only you can feel.
And so you smile at him over dinner. You laugh when he teases your dad. You hand him a beer from the fridge like nothing ever happened. You nod when your dad talks about how good it is to have Joel around again.
And you pretend.
Because thatâs what you promised. And because pretending is the only way you get to keep him in your life at all.
The house is quiet. Your dad's gone to bed hours ago, his snoring echoing faintly down the hall. A half-watched movie flickers across the dark living room, its sound low and distant like the buzz of a dream. Youâre still on the couch, knees pulled up beneath you, a throw blanket wrapped around your shoulders like armor. Rain tapping the window with a calm stream.
Youâre not expecting anyone when the knock comes.
Itâs late â not so late that itâs strange, but late enough that your heart jumps at the sound. The kind of late that makes everything in the house feel more vulnerable. Darker. Softer.
You pause the movie thatâs been playing to an empty room, remote still in your hand, and glance toward the front door. No text. No warning.
But you already know itâs him.
You cross the living room slowly, wiping your palms down the sides of your thighs as you go. You don't check through the peephole. You just open the door.
And there he is.
Joel.
He stands beneath the low porch light, one hand braced on the doorframe, the other clutching something â your dadâs wallet. His jacket is open, shirt rumpled like heâs been wearing it too long. His hair is still damp from the shower or maybe the rain â you canât tell â and his face is unreadable. Guarded. Tired. A little like he didnât want to be here, but couldnât stop himself anyway.
âHey,â he says, voice low.
Your stomach flips. âHey.â
He lifts the wallet slightly. âYour dad left this in my truck earlier.â
You glance at it, then back at him. âYou didnât have to bring it by tonight.â
Joel shrugs, like itâs nothing, but his jawâs tight. âFigured he might need it tomorrow.â
âHeâs already asleep.â
âI figured that, too.â
Silence settles between you. The kind that used to feel easy â familiar. But now itâs wrapped in something heavier. Sharper. The kind of silence that has to be handled carefully or it might shatter.
You step back without thinking. âYou can come in, if you want.â
He hesitates for a beat.
Then he steps inside.
He walks with slow, deliberate steps â like the floor might crack beneath him â and sets the wallet down on the kitchen counter with a muted thud. You shut the door, but donât move to join him just yet. You watch him from the hallway instead, arms crossed, your body buzzing with nerves.
Joel turns toward you, hands in his pockets, eyes unreadable.
You clear your throat. âYouâre quiet.â
He exhales, looks away for a second. âYeah.â
âYou okay?â
He nods once. Too quickly. âFine.â
âYou sure?â
His shoulders tense. âIâm here, arenât I?â
You study him. The slope of his brow. The way heâs not looking at you. And it stings â that careful distance he keeps between you. Like youâre something he canât be trusted to stand too close to.
âYou donât have to do this,â you say softly. âPretend weâre strangers.â
Joelâs gaze snaps to you â quick, sharp, pained.
âIâm not pretending that,â he says, voice low.
âThen what are you pretending?â
He doesnât answer. He just watches you like he's trying to hold something in â something he doesnât trust himself to say.
You take a step forward. Just one. Your voice stays quiet. Careful.
âI thought we were okay. After that night on the porch. I told you Iâd drop it. I meant it.â
âI know you did.â
âThen why does it still feel like youâre avoiding me?â
Joelâs jaw clenches. He doesnât deny it. Doesnât try to lie.
You step closer again, your chest tightening. âIâm not trying to pull you back into anything. I just⊠I miss you. I miss when we could be in the same room and not feel like we were walking on glass.â
Joel swallows hard, his throat working around the weight of your words. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and hoarse.
âI donât know how to look at you and not want to touch you.â
The words sink into your skin, low and heated and aching. You go still.
Joel shakes his head. âYou think this is easy for me? Beinâ around your dad. Coming in this house. Trying to be normal when all I can think about is how you looked that night â standing at my door, askinâ me if I regret it.â
You blink, throat tight. âDo you?â
His eyes meet yours. Unflinching. âNo. But I think about it every goddamn day. What we risked. What it couldâve cost.â
You step closer â close enough now to feel the warmth of his body.
âBut it didnât,â you whisper. âAnd we said weâd move on.â
âI know.â
âThen why are we still hurting?â
Joel looks at you like heâs trying not to drown in it. Like he wants to say no, wants to say nothing, but his body betrays him first.
His hand lifts.
It hesitates halfway â a breath, a pause â and then heâs touching you. Calloused fingers brush gently along your jaw, so soft it nearly breaks you. His thumb trails just beneath your cheekbone, and your eyes flutter shut instinctively, overwhelmed by the way it feels. Like a confession.
Heâs so close now. You can smell cedar and smoke. Feel the warmth of his breath as it fans across your lips. Your heart is in your throat, thudding loud enough to drown out every thought except him.
âI shouldnât,â he whispers, but heâs already leaning in.
And then he kisses you.
Slow. Desperate. Tender.
His lips press into yours like a secret heâs too tired to keep. Thereâs no rush, no hunger â just aching restraint, the kind of kiss that says Iâve missed you every second Iâve been away. His hand cradles your jaw while the other curls gently around your waist, not pulling, just holding. Like he needs to remember what it feels like before he lets go again.
His lips taste like regret and rain. His touch is careful, worshipful â like youâre something holy.
Your fingers find the front of his shirt, clinging to it as your body leans into him, heart pounding so hard youâre sure he can feel it. The kiss deepens â slowly, carefully â his mouth parting against yours with quiet submission. Like he's afraid if he gives in too much, he'll ruin you both.
And maybe he will.
When he finally pulls away, itâs with a soft, trembling breath. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes still closed.
He doesnât say anything for a long moment.
Then, in a voice so broken it almost undoes you: âIâm sorry.â
He brushes his thumb once more across your cheek â almost like goodbye â and steps back.
And before you can ask him to stay, before you can say please, he opens the door and slips out into the night.
You donât follow. You donât cry. You just stand there in the dark, feeling the echo of his mouth on yours like an imprint youâll never get rid of.
Gone again.
Leaving you standing there in the dark â lips tingling, heart hollow â with the weight of his kiss still clinging to your skin like a bruise that hasnât formed yet.
And for the first time in weeks, youâre not just missing him. Youâre mourning him.
It starts with the quiet.
The kind of quiet that hums. That settles into the walls of the house like dust and lingers under your skin, too thick to ignore but not loud enough to drown out. Youâve been trying to keep busy â folding laundry that doesnât need folding, pacing around the kitchen without purpose, starting a movie you didnât even want to watch.
You left it playing in the background anyway. Something old. Familiar. A film youâve seen a dozen times but couldnât name a single plot point if someone asked. The dialogue blends into the silence like white noise. You're not really listening.
Not when your mind keeps wandering.
Back to him.
Back to that night.
That kiss.
You havenât been able to stop thinking about it â the way his mouth felt on yours, soft and certain and so careful, like he was afraid of breaking something even as he gave in to the very thing heâd been trying so hard to avoid. It plays on a loop in your mind. The heat of his hand on your jaw. The tremble in his voice when he said, âIâm sorry.â
You havenât been the same since.
Not because of the kiss â but because of what came after. The way he left. The way he hasnât reached out since.
Like heâs trying to pretend it didnât happen.
Like youâre something he regrets.
You pull your knees up to your chest on the bed, resting your chin there as the light from the TV flickers across the room. Youâve been holding your breath every night since. Waiting for him to text. To call. To do something.
But he hasnât.
And the silence is starting to feel like punishment.
The house is still. Your dad went to bed hours ago â you heard the creak of his door, the distant shuffle of him brushing his teeth, the usual end-of-day routine.
You wonder if he regrets it.
The thought sits heavy in your chest, pressing down with every heartbeat. Youâve tried to be okay with the distance â you promised youâd let it go â but thereâs a hollowness in your ribs that wonât fill. Not when he feels so close and so far all at once.
You sigh, reach for your phone, and check it for the hundredth time.
Still nothing.
You set it down with a quiet thud on the nightstand, then push yourself up, restless. You pace once to the window before you catch yourself.
And then you see it. Just a sliver at first.
Barely there â the way moonlight breaks across his blinds when theyâre tilted too wide, or how the glow of his lamp leaks between the cracks. You almost donât notice it. Youâre not looking for it, not really. But your eyes find his window anyway, like they always do. Like they havenât stopped.
You freeze.
Because theyâre open.
For weeks, theyâve been closed. Tight. Like he couldnât risk letting you see even a shadow of him. Like he was trying to cut the tether between your houses with nothing but slats of plastic.
But now?
Now the blinds are drawn just enough to see in.
And heâs there.
Joel.
Heâs standing by the window, backlit by warm lamplight, his head bent low like heâs reading something. You canât see much â the outline of his shoulders, the slope of his spine â but itâs enough. Your chest pulls tight.
You donât move. Donât blink.
You just watch.
At first, it feels innocent again. Like it used to â like the old evenings, when youâd glance across the street and see him moving through his house in a way that felt... comforting. Familiar. A ritual neither of you ever spoke about but always seemed to fall into.
But this time it feels different.
Because now heâs looking up.
Right at you.
Your breath stutters in your throat. You think about ducking, turning away, pretending you werenât staring â but something about the look in his eyes stops you.
He doesnât flinch. Doesnât hide. He just watches you.
Slowly, you step closer to your own window. Close enough that he can see your face. Not just your shape. Not just your shadow.
His expression doesnât change. Not at first. But thereâs something in the way his gaze softens, something that makes your stomach twist and heat crawl up your neck.
His hand moves â slow, deliberate â reaching for the chain of his blinds. You tense, thinking heâs going to close them again, disappear from view like he has so many nights before.
But he doesnât.
He pulls them wider.
Your breath catches. Because now you see all of him.
Heâs wearing a soft, worn t-shirt, clinging to the shape of his chest. His hairâs damp, like heâs just come out of the shower. Thereâs a crease between his brows, something tired and tense, but his body is relaxed â like heâs standing there waiting for you. Like he knew youâd be looking.
Like maybe⊠he was waiting too.
You donât know who moves first.
Maybe itâs you â maybe itâs the way your hand lifts, pressing against the glass as if thatâll make the space between you smaller. Or maybe itâs him â the way he shifts his stance, closer to the window now, one hand braced on the frame, the other resting low on his hip.
Heâs not smiling.
But heâs not hiding either.
And God, that does something to you.
The silence of the night is louder now. You can hear the soft whir of your fan, the hum of distant traffic, the thump of your own pulse in your ears. You can feel everything â the weight of his eyes, the heat blooming beneath your skin, the ache that never really left.
Joel tilts his head. Just slightly. Like heâs asking you a question without speaking.
You donât answer. You canât. You just keep watching.
And then â slowly â he brings a hand to the hem of his shirt.
He doesnât take it off. He doesnât do anything obvious or lewd.
He just lifts it enough to scratch at his side. A lazy, thoughtless gesture. But your eyes follow the motion like youâre starved for it. The way his stomach flexes, the glimpse of skin. Your thighs press together, instinctively, and you hate the way it feels like he knows that. Like heâs watching your reaction just as closely.
Because this isnât innocent anymore.
This is intentional.
This is him saying: Remember.
And youâre too scared to look away. Too sad. Too hungry.
Because you want him â so much it hurts. Even after all the distance. Even after all the silence. You want him in a way that feels like surrender.
He shifts again.
Turns just slightly so you see more of his profile, his broad chest, the curve of his jaw. And when he leans forward â arms braced on the windowsill, head tilted low â it feels like gravity itself is shifting. Like the space between your houses isnât enough to stop whatâs starting.
You move without thinking.
Your fingers trail down the front of your sleep shirt. Thin cotton. Nothing underneath. And when you see his jaw clench at the sight, your breath catches.
You should stop.
You should close your blinds, turn away, pretend you donât feel the heat blooming low in your stomach like a secret â but you donât.
Because heâs still watching.
And he looks like heâs in pain. Like watching you is unraveling him.
His hand lifts again â slow, cautious â like heâs asking permission.
You nod. Just once.
And he unbuckles his belt.
The leather comes undone, slow and deliberate ÂÂââ like heâs trying to torture you in ways you couldnât possibly understand. He finally removes his belt, itâs like you can hear the metal clinking even through your window, feet away ââ but he doesnât undress.
His jeans now hang low on his waist, revealing deep hipbones just under his white t-shirt. His shirt rides up just enough, exposing the hair that travels, disappearing in the waistband. He sends a knowing look your way, eyebrow slightly raised, head tilted low. Heâs teasing you.
 A shiver escapes your lips, but it has nothing to do with the night air. What is he doing to you?
Not long ago â weeks â he told you to stay away. Made you promise. Said it was better this way, that you both needed to forget. And yet, just weeks after those words, he came to you in the dark. No warning, no reason. Just a kiss that lit a fire in your chest and then vanished with him into the shadows, leaving you gasping and hollow.
You know better than to let this go on. Youâve tried to pull away, to make the distance real. But Joel â Joel is like some toxic flower. Beautiful, intoxicating. The kind you want to keep touching even when the thorns are already cutting in.
You should shut the window. You should walk away. But instead, you vanish from the glass, knowing damn well what you're doing â leaving him aching.
Moments later, your phone buzzes.
Joel come back please
You stare at the screen. Your thumb hovers.
You No.
A pause. Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Joel you canât just disappear like that i need to see you
You you saw me. that was the problem, remember? youâre the one who said this couldnât happen.
A longer pause now. Maybe heâs pacing. You imagine him raking a hand through his hair, frustration carved into every line of his face.
Joel i didnât mean it. not like that. i just... itâs complicated
You No. Itâs simple. You told me to forget. I tried. You kissed me. I didnât ask for that.
Joel but you kissed me back.
You swallow hard, your breath catching in your throat. You type. Erase. Then type again.
You doesnât mean it didnât hurt.
Another pause.
Joel then come over. just for a minute. iâll explain. no pressure. i just need to see you. please
Your fingers twitch. Everything in you says no. But the thing is, that ache he left in you â it never really went away. You press your lips together, jaw tight.
You if i come, you donât get to disappear again.
Joel deal⊠wear something pretty.
You know exactly what he means by those last words, know what youâre getting yourself into. You stare at your reflection in the dark window. You already know youâre going. Just needed to hear him say it.
You slip your phone into your pocket before he can say anything else. The decision has already sunk into your bones like warm rain â inevitable.
The house is silent. You move like a ghost through the halls, toes brushing cold wood floors, heart pounding in your throat. Every creak feels like a confession. Every breath, too loud. You hesitate at the back door, one hand resting on the knob, the other curled around the edge of your jacket.
Just for a minute. Thatâs what he said.
But you already know a minute wonât be enough.
The night greets you with a hush, the kind of quiet that makes you feel like something big is about to happen. Joelâs house is just a few feet away. Close enough that you've memorized the way his porch light flickers.
By the time you reach his porch, your pulse is a steady drumbeat in your ears. His truckâs out front, same as always. The house is dark except for the light in the front room.
You round the corner of the porch. And there he is.
Joelâs leaning against the doorway like heâs been standing there for hours. His arms are crossed, his jaw set, but his eyes â his eyes are soft in the worst way. Like regret and want are sitting side by side behind them.
âI didnât think youâd come,â he says, voice low, rough from too many things unsaid.
You shrug, pretending like your heart isnât breaking just looking at him. âYou said please.â
He lets out a breath, half a laugh, like he canât believe youâre real. Then he steps back and opens the door wider.
âCome inside.â
You hesitate for only a second. Then you cross the threshold.
The door shuts behind you with a soft click that sounds a lot like surrender.
Inside, the air feels different. Warmer. Tighter. Joel stands close, but not too close. Not yet. You can see the way his hands twitch, like heâs holding himself back.
âI wasnât lying,â he says quietly. âWhen I told you it was complicated.â
You look at him. âThen explain it.â
He nods, eyes dropping to the floor for a second before they meet yours again. âI wanted to protect you from... from this. From me. I thought if I stayed away, youâd move on. That Iâd stop wanting you.â
âAnd did you?â Your voice is steadier than you feel.
He swallows hard. âNot for a damn second.â
The space between you hums like a live wire. One wrong move, and you'll both fall into it.
You take a step forward. Just one. âThen what do we do, Joel?â
He exhales, slow and ragged, and lifts a hand like heâs going to touch you â then stops himself again.
âWe stop pretending it doesnât matter,â he murmurs. âAnd we stop lying about how we feel.â
This time, itâs you who reaches for him.
The moment your fingers curl into his shirt and you whisper, âThen stop pretending,â Joel loses it.
His mouth crashes into yours with a groan that sounds like itâs been clawing its way out of him for weeks. Thereâs no patience, no hesitation â just heat, teeth, tongue, and years of tension finally catching fire.
Heâs already walking you backward, lips never leaving yours, hands gripping your waist like he canât decide whether to pull you closer or push you straight through the wall.
You gasp against his mouth as your back hits it with a thud. âJoelââ
He shakes his head, breathing hard. âNo. Donât talk. Justâcome here.â
He grabs your hand and pulls you toward the stairs, but neither of you make it gracefully. Youâre tripping over each other, stumbling, laughing breathlessly between kisses. He lifts you halfway up the stairs like he canât stand the space between your bodies, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, arms thrown around his shoulders.
He pins you to the wall midway up, grinding into you hard enough to draw a gasp from your throat.
âYou gonna keep teasinâ me?â he mutters against your neck, biting gently.
âYou gonna keep talking?â you shoot back, yanking at his jeans.
That does it. He lets out a guttural, broken sound and practically hauls you the rest of the way, mouths still crashing, hands roaming fast and rough. The stairs become a blur of groans and tangled limbs, your bodies fumbling, too impatient to care.
By the time you burst through his bedroom door, youâre both wild.
He slams the door shut behind you, doesnât even wait to reach the bed â just presses you up against it, shoves his hands under your shirt and yanks it off like itâs offending him by existing. You tear at his in return, dragging it over his head as he kisses down your chest, your stomach.
âFuck,â he breathes. âYouâre killing me.â
You pull him back up, crash your mouth to his again. âThen donât stop.â
He doesnât. He lifts you, drops you onto the bed, crawling over you with that same unstoppable force. His hands are everywhere â your hips, your thighs, your jaw. He kisses you like heâs drowning in you, like if he stops, heâll lose his mind.
âIâve wanted you,â he groans, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck. âFor so fucking long.â
âShow me,â you whisper, nails raking down his back.
He groans into your skin, grinding against you. âYou think I havenât imagined this? Thought about how youâd soundâhow youâd feel?â
âJoelââ you gasp, hips meeting his in desperate rhythm.
Heâs losing it. You both are.
You roll, straddle him, kiss him hard. He grabs your hips, guiding you as you move, both of you chasing something thatâs been just out of reach for far too long.
âLook at me,â he demands, voice ragged.
You do â and that look in his eyes, that wild, almost worshipful hunger, nearly knocks the air out of your lungs.
âYouâre mine,â he says, like a vow. âTonight, youâre fucking mine.â
Joel dips his head to your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin just below your ear ââ creating possessive marks that you know shouldnât be there but canât bring yourself to stop him. You roll your hips into his crotch, needing his attention in the filthiest of ways. A small grunt slips from his lips at the friction.
âFuck, baby girl, want me that bad?â He teases, a sly smirk displaying for you to see.
âJoel Iâ please.â You beg, tired of the games, tired of the complication, tired of the mess. You just want to pretend you really are his, even if itâs just for the night.
Joel doesnât fight, doesnât continue with the teasing ââ he needs you just as bad. Flips you back over so heâs on top. One hand cups your breast, kneading the hard nub ââ twisting it harshly between his fingers, sending electric shivers up your spine. His mouth catches the other, his tongue swirling in sinful ways, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin.
Your fingers curl into the back of his head, tugging slightly at the stray hairs. His eyes meet yours ââ nipple still between his teeth. The site alone makes you moan his name in ways you never thought you could.
His hand trails down your stomach and pushes down your pretty, baby pink sleep shorts. Of course you werenât wearing underwear.
âSuch a slut.â Joel murmurs, shaking his head slightly. âWalkinâ to my house with no panties on. Tryinâ to tell me you didnât come over for me to fuck you?â
Whines escape your lips as his fingers reach down, rubbing youâre already soaked cunt ââ spreading your slick up to your clit.
âSo wet for me. Can see you glistening. Needed me this bad, baby?â
âJoelâ" You whine, body withering underneath his gaze.
âItâs okay, sweetheart. Daddyâs here now.â He assures, dipping his head between your thighs, lightly flicking his tongue at your ever swollen clit.
The noises leaving your mouth are sinful, filling the dimly lit room, feeling the empty house. He sucks slightly, thumb trailing rubbing between your wet folds. Your hands grab at his hair, tugging for some release. Knees now bent with your feet hanging ever so slightly in the air.
You feel your body start to shake as he easily enters his middle and ring finger inside of you ââ curling once he knows heâs deep enough to have you begging.
His free palm presses slightly on the lower part of your stomach, keeping you still while his movements begin a harsh pace. Wet, disgusting noises feel the air, but you canât seem to bring yourself to care, chasing his mouth with your trusts.
âNeed my tongue?â He asks, making eye contact with you for the first time since he buried his face between your legs.
You nod your head fiercely, whining when you lose contact as he removes his fingers. The loss isnât long missed when he quickly replaces his tongue, digging himself inside you. His thumb trails slowly up your thighs, meeting at your clit and rubbing deep circles causing you to arch into his touch.
âJoel, gonnaâ god Iâm gonna come.â You whimper, movements now faulty, legs shaking around him and toes curling slightly.
âWanna taste you. You can do it, babygirl, come on.â
The want you hear in his low, hoarse, voice drives you over the edge. Never hearing anyone want you that bad. Never having anyone begging for your taste. The heat coiled in your lower stomach now released ââ mouth agape and eyes rolled. You can hear the lewd sounds of Joel taking you all in, not allowing any escape.
You lay there, catching your breath and admiring the site one last time of Joel between your legs. You thought this would be it, never have gone so far with him, never have even seen him naked. Sure, youâve seen him shirtless in his dimly lit bedroom from hundreds of feet away. And when you were finally falling apart in his arms, he was clothed the whole time, never touched.
So, it came as a shock to you when Joel desperately pulls his jeans down his thighs, past his calves, and throws them on the ground ââ uncared for. His boxers chase quickly after and youâre met with the sight of Joels hard, dripping, length. Heâs just as big as you imagined.
He crouches over you, hand placed on the side of your head as he adjusts himself between your legs. His gaze lands on yours ââ full of hunger, like youâre the last meal heâd ever have.
âYou want this?â He asks. Genuinely asks ââ no teasing.
âYes.â You answer quietly, slowly wrapping your legs around his waist. âFuck me hard.â
He smirks at the request. You have no idea what youâve just asked for kind of look displayed on his face. Youâre nervous. Youâre excited. Youâre ready to take him ââ all of him.
He lines himself up with your entrance, giving you one last assuring look, and once he sees that youâre serious, he slams into you. No edging, no warning, no prep. A scream leaves your lips, and you quickly cover your mouth with you own hands.
âNo, let me hear you.â He demands, removing your hands. âWanna hear my pretty girlâs cry.â
You move your hands to his biceps, digging your nails deep into him ââ defiantly leaving marks. He gives you exactly what you asked for as your screams fill the dim room. Joels movements so harsh, so steady, the sound of skin hitting against skin drowning itself into your ear.
His gaze lingers at the sight of you taking him in, all of him. He watches the filthy sight, groaning every time he sees himself disappear between your thighs. Watching how his shaft is glistening with your juices when he pulls out again.
âLook at you. Handlinâ this like such a good girl.â He grunts, facing you. âMy girl takinâ all of me.â
You grab each side of his cheeks, stray tears leaving your eyes at the firey contact between your legs. Heâs being so harsh with you, so mean. But his words suggest otherwise. You want to be so good for him, you want him to have his way.
âYou okay, baby girl?â As he bends down, kissing each tear. His concern couldnât be more comforting. You nod your head. I want this.
He offers you a mischievous smile at the answer, arms now wrapping around your knees, pushing your legs to your chest to get himself in the deepest position. A deep moan escapes his lips at the feeling.
He starts slow, pacing to get you prepared and ready, but seeing youâre already scratching his back at the contact, his pace quickens ââ the sound of loud smacks and the headboard banging against the wall over power your moans.
You feel his movements become unsteady as he pushes your legs as far as he can, almost folding you in half as if he could place you in his pocket â and then he thrusts deeper, harder, as if trying to crawl inside you, to stay there.
His grip tightens, his pace turns frantic, and when he finally loses control, itâs with your name ripped from his throat and his body trembling above yours, like youâve shattered something vital in him.
And when he finally flips, pulls you down onto him, the world splits open. Youâre now in his lap, but youâre not in control. His thrusts still deep inside you as his hands grip at you hips ââ holding you there as if you were to escape.
Itâs not gentle. Itâs not slow.
Itâs pure, feral need. A collision of bodies, of emotion, of everything youâve both denied.
Youâre kissing between moans, holding on for dear life, moving like the world might end tomorrow â and maybe it already has, because nothing else exists except this. Joel, beneath you, inside you, gripping you like youâre the only thing thatâs ever felt real.
And you â burning alive in his hands, coming apart under every word he groans into your skin, every thrust, every whispered âGod, I missed you.â
The bed rocks. The headboard slams. Your name breaks off his lips like a prayer.
And you feel him twitch deep inside of you, head thrown back, breath hitched. Heâs warm inside of you, dripping out slowly down your thighs and around his shaft where he still sits inside.
You collapse onto his chest, your limbs weak, lungs pulling in ragged breaths that still canât quite catch up to your racing heart. Joelâs arm is already around you, holding you there like heâs afraid youâll disappear.
His skin is warm, damp with sweat, his chest rising and falling beneath your cheek. You listen to the thrum of his heartbeat â itâs fast, chaotic, like yours â and somehow, that grounds you more than anything else.
Neither of you speak for a moment. Thereâs no need.
His hand finds your hair, fingers slowly combing through it in lazy, distracted strokes. You melt into him, eyes fluttering shut, lulled by the rhythmic movement and the soft sound of his breathing.
âYou okay?â he asks eventually, his voice low and rough, still wrecked from what just passed between you.
You nod against his chest. âYeah.â
He tilts his head, kisses the top of yours â slow, gentle, lingering. âDid I hurt you?â
âNo,â you whisper, your voice barely audible. âYou were perfect.â
You feel the breath leave his lungs at that, like your words hit something deep inside him.
For a moment, he just keeps playing with your hair, grounding himself in the softness of you. Then you feel him shift beneath you, moving with quiet purpose. Finally pulling himself out.
âStay right there,â he murmurs.
You groan softly in protest, but he presses another kiss to your forehead. âIâll be right back.â
He disappears into the bathroom, and you hear the sound of water running, a drawer opening, something rustling. When he returns, heâs holding a warm, damp towel and one of his shirts.
Joel sits at the edge of the bed and gently parts your legs, eyes scanning your face for any hesitation. âJust let me take care of you,â he says quietly.
You nod, throat tight.
His touch is tender, soft, as he cleans you up â his fingers slow, like this is his way of saying all the things he doesnât quite know how to say aloud. When he finishes, he slips the oversized shirt over your head, pulling it gently down your arms.
You catch him staring at you in it â his shirt, your skin â and thereâs something in his eyes that isnât just lust. Itâs something quieter. Something closer to wonder.
Joel climbs into bed beside you, pulls the blanket up over both of you, and gathers you into his arms like heâs done it a hundred times before.
Like you belong there.
His fingers find your hair again, idly twirling strands between them.
You press your face into his neck, breathing him in.
âI missed you,â you whisper.
His hand stills in your hair. âI never stopped missing you.â
And in the quiet that follows, everything feels still. Safe. Real.
For the first time in a long time, you donât feel like youâre running.
You just feel at home.
a/n: I am so sorry this took forever for me to post!!
@locaparapedrito @vickie5446 @thewritergx
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel smut#joel x reader#tlou#pedro pascal#joel#joel the last of us#fanfic#joel miller x reader#joel tlou#joel miller fanfiction#pedro#smut#joel miller fanfic#joel miller one shot#joel miller x you#tlou hbo#joel miller tlou#i need him#joel x you#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal smut
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hi!! how would bllk 11 react to the reader complimenting them out of the blue and they get all flustered ><
Complimenting Them So Much They Get Flustered
( â§ ) ââââââ fluff - she/her .
- [đđĄ.] bllk 11
- [đ©:đŹ] none
Note: This is so cute omg! âĄ( âĄâżâĄ )

Isagi Yoichi
Youâre sitting on the couch with Isagi, the two of you sharing a lazy afternoon in his apartment. Heâs in his usual hoodie, glasses on, scribbling down notes from a recent match while his game replays on the TV. You watch him for a momentâfocused, dedicated, completely in his element.
Without thinking, you say softly, âYou know⊠I really admire how hardworking you are. Itâs honestly so attractive. Iâm lucky to have you.â
His pen stills mid-sentence. âH-Huh?â he blinks, looking over at you, face turning an unmistakable shade of pink.
You smile at him. âJust saying. Youâre kind of amazing.â
Now heâs spiraling. âWhaâwait, where did that come from? I meanâthank youâbut like⊠you really think that? Me? Attractive?â
He tries to compose himself, but heâs already hiding his face in his notebook, peeking at you over the top like a shy puppy. His mindâs racing: Was I being cool just now? Was that when she thought I looked good? Should I do that more? But all he can manage is a choked-out, âY-Youâre the amazing one, thoughâŠâ
He avoids your eyes for the next ten minutes, stammering every time you smile at him.
Rin Itoshi
Rin is notoriously hard to read, even when youâre dating him. Youâre both walking back from a cafĂ©, his hand loosely holding yours in his coat pocket. Heâs quiet, focused on the path ahead, when you glance up at him and blurt out, âYouâre so beautiful, Rin. You honestly take my breath away.â
He stops walking.
You keep going for two steps before realizing heâs not beside you. You turn to see him frozen in place, eyes slightly widened.
ââŠDid I say something wrong?â you ask, tilting your head.
He doesnât answer right away. Then his brows knit together, and he looks away, ears visibly red. âDonât say dumb things like that out of nowhere.â
You grin. âItâs not dumb if itâs true.â
He exhales sharply, face still a bit pink. âIâm not⊠used to that.â He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. âYouâre ridiculous.â
But his grip on your hand tightens. And though he faces forward again, his thumb starts brushing slow circles on your palm. You catch a small smile tugging at his lips despite his best efforts.
And when you tease him later, âSo, you liked it,â he just grumbles, âShut up,â but you spot the blush creeping down his neck again.
Nagi Seishiro
You find Nagi sprawled on your bed, arms stretched out like a starfish, phone in one hand, a bag of chips within reach. You lie beside him and rest your head on his shoulder, watching him scroll aimlessly.
Then you murmur, âYouâre so effortlessly cool, Sei. Honestly⊠just being near you makes me feel like Iâm living in a dream.â
He freezes. For a guy who lives life on âeasy mode,â you just threw him into hard mode without warning.
âHuh? Whatâs with that cheesy line?â he mumbles, phone slipping from his hand. His face is turning bright red, and he turns his head toward the ceiling as if hoping itâll save him.
âIâm serious,â you giggle. âYouâre insanely hot and charming, and it drives me a little crazy.â
He groans dramatically, dragging a pillow over his face. âUghhh⊠donât say stuff like that outta nowhere, itâs too much effort to deal with.â
But then he peeks out from under the pillow and mumbles, âYouâre cute for thinking that, though.â He nudges you with his foot, lazy smile appearing. âNow you gotta cuddle me âtil I recover.â
You roll into him, and he wraps an arm around you with a satisfied sigh, whispering under his breath, âMy girlfriendâs too sweet⊠itâs unfair.â
Yukimiya Kenyu
Yukimiya is getting ready in the mirror, trying out different accessories. He looks stunning, as alwaysâhair neat, eyes sharp, every movement graceful. Youâre perched on the bed, chin in your hands, admiring him.
âYouâre like a work of art, Kenyu,â you say dreamily. âI donât know how youâre even real.â
He turns slightly, surprised. âHuh?â
You repeat it, slower this time. âYouâre absolutely gorgeous. But more than that⊠youâre thoughtful, kind, and driven. Iâm really proud of you.â
He stares at you for a beat too long. Then, unexpectedly, he laughsânervous, caught off guard. âYou canât just drop compliments like that when Iâm trying to fix my cufflinks,â he says, voice higher than usual.
You walk over, gently fixing his sleeve for him. He goes quiet, watching you, the flush on his cheeks spreading.
âI⊠appreciate that. A lot,â he says, finally. Then, almost in a whisper, âI donât think Iâll ever get used to being loved like this.â
You smile and kiss his cheek, and he stares at his reflection with a dazed little grin.
âI look like a tomato,â he mutters.
Otoya Eita
Otoyaâs the type who flirts with you constantly, always tossing compliments like confetti. But youâve been planning thisâwaiting for just the right moment to throw him off his game.
Youâre at the gym with him, watching as he finishes a set of pull-ups, muscles flexing under his shirt, hair messy with sweat. He jumps down, looking at you with that usual smirk. âLike what you see, babe?â
You lean against the wall casually and say, âActually, yeah. You're ridiculously hot, Eita. But more than that⊠youâve got this quiet determination thatâs seriously attractive. You act all playful, but you work so damn hard. Itâs sexy.â
He stops mid-wipe with his towel, eyes blinking rapidly.
ââŠHuh?â He laughs, but itâs the nervous kindâthe one he uses when heâs caught off guard for once. âWaitâwas that a real compliment?â
You grin. âMhmm. 100% sincere.â
His smirk wavers and you catch it: the slightest pink tinge blooming on his cheeks. He tries to recover, tossing the towel over his shoulder and flexing a little. âWell, if youâre gonna talk like that, I might die of happiness.â
Then he leans in close, his usual swagger returning in waves, but you can see the truth in his eyesâyour words hit. Deep. âYou keep sweet-talking me like that, Iâll start thinking youâre obsessed.â
You whisper back, âMaybe I am,â and he actually chokes.
Mission: success.
Karasu Tabito
Karasuâs chill to a fault. Heâs witty, confident, and borderline smug when he wants to be. But youâve seen glimpses of that soft, quieter sideâthe one he tries to hide. And today, you plan to poke it.
Heâs lounging on your couch, legs kicked up, hoodie halfway falling off one shoulder, scrolling through TikTok and occasionally showing you something dumb. You lean over and rest your head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.
âYou know,â you murmur, âyouâre incredibly attractive. Like, not just physically, though duh. But your mind? Your confidence? The way you never let anything shake you? Thatâs the hottest thing in the world to me.â
His hand holding the phone pauses mid-scroll. He slowly tilts his head to look at you. ââŠThe hell?â
You glance up. âWhat?â
âThat was outta nowhere.â He squints, trying to act like he's unaffected, but the tips of his ears are already red.
You keep going, relentless. âAnd I love how you always know what to say. You make me feel safe. Like Iâm the luckiest girl in the world.â
He stares at you for a solid few seconds, phone forgotten, expression unreadable. Then he groans and covers his face with a throw pillow. âWhy are you like this?â he mumbles, voice muffled.
You giggle. âFlustered?â
âIâm not flustered. Shut up.â He peeks out and mutters, âBut if you keep talking like that, I might have to marry you or something.â
Meguru Bachira
Youâre walking through a park with Bachira, fingers entwined, as he excitedly talks about his newest soccer moves and how he wants to try them in the next match. His energy is contagiousâheâs practically bouncing beside you.
You watch him, your heart swelling. Then you stop him mid-sentence.
âMeguru.â
He turns to you, curious. âHmm?â
You smile softly. âYouâre amazing. Like, seriously. Your passion, your joy, the way you play with your whole heart⊠it inspires me. And your smile? It lights up everything. I love being around you.â
He stares at you, completely frozen. His mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out.
ââŠH-Huh? Wait, wait, say that again.â
You take a step closer. âYou heard me.â
He clutches his chest dramatically, pretending to stagger. âIâmy heart! Babe, youâre trying to kill me!â
You laugh, and he grins wideâbut thereâs a visible pink flush on his cheeks now. âYouâre not allowed to be this cute without warning,â he pouts. âYouâre supposed to be the normal one in this relationship.â
You wrap your arms around him, and he buries his face in your shoulder, mumbling something that sounds like, âI donât deserve you, but Iâm gonna keep you forever anyway.â
You melt on the spot.
Niko Ikki
Nikoâs reserved. Not in a shy way, just... thoughtful, a bit guarded. Heâs not the kind of guy who fishes for compliments. Heâs more comfortable showing love than receiving it. Which makes surprising him that much sweeter.
Youâre both sitting on the floor of your apartment, a puzzle half-done in front of you. Heâs concentrating hard, brows furrowed. You admire the way his fingers move, gentle and precise.
âYouâre so handsome,â you say suddenly.
His head snaps up. âWhat?â
You smile. âAnd really smart. You donât talk much, but when you do, it always means something. I think thatâs rare. And really attractive.â
He blinks. âWhereâs this coming from?â
You shrug. âIâve just been thinking about how lucky I am.â
He lowers his gaze, clearly trying to hide how flustered he is. A small, uncertain smile tugs at his lips. âI⊠I donât know what to say.â
âYou donât have to say anything,â you say, nudging his shoulder. âJust let me love you.â
He clears his throat, cheeks tinged with pink, then mumbles, â...Youâre kinda dangerous when you talk like that.â
You tilt your head. âDangerous?â
He nods. âBecause it makes me want to hold you forever.â
Aryu Jyubei
Aryuâs doing his self-care routineâfacial mask on, robe tied perfectly, classical music playing in the background while he paints his nails a glittery silver. Youâre lounging on his chaise with a drink in hand, admiring him.
Heâs talking about his favorite moisturizer when you suddenly interrupt: âGod, Jyubei, youâre literally the most beautiful man Iâve ever seen. Like, you're so flawless it makes me feel like Iâm in a movie when I look at you.â
He freezes, brush mid-air. â...Excuse me?â
You continue with a soft smile. âAnd itâs not just the outside. You're confident, thoughtful, andâstrangelyâyou always make me feel more secure about myself, too.â
He drops the nail polish brush back into the bottle a little too fast.
âStop that,â he says, turning toward you with an expression caught between horror and flustered delight. âIf you say things like that out of nowhere, Iâll combust. And then who's going to maintain this beauty?!â
You laugh, but his face is red, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.
He tries to brush it off, dramatically fanning himself. âYouâve got no idea the effect you have on me, darling. That was so unfiltered, so rawâugh! I need a moment.â
He gets up, robe swirling, muttering, âI must look in the mirror to recover my sense of self.â
But you can hear itâsoft under his breath: â...She really thinks Iâm that amazing?â
And later? He absolutely brings it up while cuddling. âSay it again,â he whispers into your hair.
Chigiri Hyoma
Youâre sitting on a blanket under the cherry blossoms, sharing snacks and watching petals drift down. Chigiri looks ethereal in the soft lightâhair glowing, eyes half-lidded, the very picture of peace.
Then, out of nowhere, you say, âI honestly donât think Iâve ever seen anyone as beautiful as you. Itâs almost unfair.â
He chokes on his rice cracker. âH-Huh?â
You lean closer. âSeriously. Youâre graceful and fast and insanely strong. And youâre so kind to me. Being with you feels like breathing after drowning.â
He stares at you, stunned. Then his whole face slowly lights up like a firework displayâpink, then red, then redder. âYou canât just say stuff like that,â he mumbles, eyes darting away, ears fully flushed.
You gently poke his cheek. âWhy not? Itâs true.â
He hides his face behind his sleeve, muttering something unintelligible. You catch the words âtoo cuteâ and âmy heart canât take itâ. He tries to maintain his cool-guy act, but when you kiss his temple, he audibly whimpers.
Later, when youâre leaning against him and holding hands, he quietly whispers, âYouâre beautiful too⊠you know that?â And even though heâs the one flustered, he still wants to return the love.
Reo Mikage
Youâre curled up on the massive couch in Reoâs penthouse, watching him work through some business emails. Heâs in full CEO modeâreading, typing, hair pushed back, sleeves rolled up. Youâre supposed to be quiet, letting him focus, but you canât help yourself.
âReo,â you say softly.
He glances over. âYeah, babe?â
âYouâre brilliant. Like, insanely brilliant. You could do anythingârun a company, become a world-class playerâand somehow youâre still humble. You amaze me.â
His fingers freeze over the keyboard. Slowly, he looks up. ââŠDid you just compliment me out of nowhere?â
You nod. âBecause I meant it.â
He blinks, clearly caught off guard, mouth slightly open. Then he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, trying to compose himselfâbut the flush rising in his cheeks betrays him.
âYou canât say stuff like that without warning. What do you want, a yacht?â he jokes, trying to play it cool.
You grin. âJust wanted you to know how proud I am.â
He sets his laptop aside, walks over, and drops dramatically onto the couch next to you, head in your lap. âYouâre gonna turn me into a puddle,â he groans, burying his face in your stomach. âDo you know how dangerous your love is? I could give up everything just to hear you say that again.â
And you do say it again. And he melts, completely.
Barou Shoei
Barouâs in the kitchen, apron on, cooking you something he swears is "the ultimate fuel." He moves with purposeâsharp, focused, intense. You lean against the doorway, just watching him like heâs your favorite show.
âYouâre incredible, Shoei.â
He grunts without looking at you. âDamn right.â
âNo, really,â you continue. âYouâre strong. Not just physically, but mentally. You donât bend, you donât break. Youâre so passionate and unshakable. Thatâs insanely attractive.â
Now he stops.
Spatula in hand, he turns his head slightly, one brow raised. âWhat the hell brought that on?â
You walk over and wrap your arms around his waist from behind. âJust facts. I love how much pride you carry. Makes me feel safe. Makes me proud to be yours.â
His whole body tenses. ââŠTch.â
You peek around and catch it: the red ears. Heâs glaring at the pan like it personally insulted him, but his neck is beet red.
âYouâre embarrassing me,â he grumbles.
You kiss his shoulder. âYou love it.â
He turns, pointing the spatula at you, completely flustered. âDonât think I wonât turn this kitchen into a war zone if you keep talking like that.â
But then he quiets down and mumbles under his breath, âThanks, though. I⊠needed that.â
And when you turn away to give him space? He smiles. Just a little.
Hiori Yo
Hioriâs sitting on the couch with you, laptop open, working on strategy notes. His glasses are slipping a little, and his brow is furrowed in that serious, beautiful way he gets when heâs deep in thought.
You gently nudge him. âHey.â
He hums without looking up. âMm?â
You lean your head on his shoulder. âYouâre so thoughtful. And smart. And kind. You never make a big deal about it, but I notice. Every little thing you doâit makes me feel loved.â
His fingers pause mid-type.
You feel his body tense just slightly. ââŠThat was out of nowhere,â he murmurs.
You nod against him. âI know. Just wanted to say it.â
He slowly closes the laptop, then turns to look at youâeyes soft, but wide, like heâs trying to process it all.
âYou really think that about me?â he asks quietly.
You reach up and tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. âEvery word.â
He takes your hand, holds it against his heart, and leans in until your foreheads touch. âYou always say the things I donât know I need to hear⊠Thank you.â
His voice cracks on the last word, barely above a whisper.
You sit there in silence for a while, his arms wrapped around you, your heart beating in sync. He doesnât say much after thatâbut later, you find a little note in your bag:
âIâll spend my life trying to be the man you already believe I am.â
Nanase Nijiro
You and Nanase are sprawled out on the floor building a Lego setâsomething relaxing after a long week. Heâs humming softly, sleeves rolled up, completely focused on the tiny pieces.
You glance over and say, âYouâre really cute when youâre focused.â
He freezes, brick halfway to his hand. âW-What?â
You crawl a little closer. âActually, youâre just really cute. Period. Youâre sweet, patient, hardworking... and I always feel calm around you. Youâre like⊠emotional safety in a person.â
His hands drop into his lap. He stares down at the Legos like they betrayed him. âI⊠I donât know what to sayâŠâ
You lean in and boop his nose. âYou donât have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.â
His face goes bright red. âYou canât justâ! Thatâs not fair! Thatâs like⊠a sneak attack!â
You giggle, and he hides his face behind his hands. âIâm not used to being complimented like thatâŠâ he mumbles.
You gently pull his hands away. âGet used to it. I love you.â
His lips part slightly like he wants to say it back, but instead he throws himself into a hug, burying his face in your shoulder and whispering, âYouâre gonna make me cry if you keep being so sweet.â
You hold him tighter. âThen Iâll hold you through it.â
#đđđđ-đđđđđđ#bllk x you#bllk scenarios#bllk x reader#otoya eita x reader#gagamaru x reader#chigiri x reader#ikki niko x reader#niko x reader#aryu jyubei x reader#yukimiya kenyu x reader#bachira meguru x reader#rin itoshi x reader#nagi seishiro x reader#karasu tabito x reader#isagi yoichi x reader#hiori yo x reader#nanase nijiro x reader
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"Did You See Me?" - Han Jisung x Reader
Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, Established Relationship, Han x GN!Reader
Summary: You try to watch his comeback stage alone. He video-calls you right after to ask what you thought, like a kid needing praise.
Word Count: 986
A/N: First K-Pop fic! I hope y'all enjoy. My other blog, @deaky-trash has all my old Queen/BoRhap fics, and this is my second fanfic in a long time! I have a bunch of stuff lined up next: a silly Kyrell (Ampers&One) x Reader, and then a cute fluffy friends to lovers for Woonhak (BoyNextDoor)! Feel free to request stuff any time, and I love you all!
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Y/N toed off their shoes with a soft groan, their back aching from the weight of the day. The apartment greeted them with quietâ too quiet. The lights hummed low and golden, casting long, familiar shadows across the living room walls. God forbid they ever turn on the overheadâ too harsh, too cold. It never felt like home that way.
They set their keys in the tray by the door, shrugged off their jacket, and padded into the kitchen in socked feet to prepare for some downtime. The tea they made earlierâ that salted caramel stuff they bought in America, his latest obsessionâ had gone cold on the counter. They popped it into the microwave without thinking.
It was comeback day. He was already a few cities away, swamped in pre-recordings, outfit changes, and the kind of pre-stage jitters he always masked with bravado. He hadnât texted in a few hours, but that was normalâ the chaos before a stage. The kind of work that made exhaustion settle deep in your bones and had you feeling like you never wanted to move again.
But still, Y/N missed him.
They curled up on the couch, slipping into one of Hanâs hoodies heâd left behind. It slouched over their frame, sleeves pulled down to their knuckles. He always liked the oversized ones. The stage was set to air any minute.
Y/N grabbed the remote and powered on the TV, the screen lighting up as they flipped through channels for the Stray Kids comeback stage. They had meant to wait and watch it with him, but⊠who were they kidding? Han knew better than to expect them to wait days to see their Hannie on stage again.
The fanchants hit first as they pulled a blanket over themselves and took a sip of reheated tea. Then came Stray Kids, commanding the stage just by being there. And there he was.
Han.
Hair pushed back, gaze sharp, jaw set like he meant business. The same guy who tripped over their coffee table two nights ago trying to show them a dance move was now practically eating the camera alive.
Y/N laughed softly, their heart swelling.
His verse in the first song hitâ sharp, fast, ridiculous in the best wayâ and the moment it ended, he smirked, eyes flicking just barely offstage. Like he was checking something. Y/N smiled. Only they would catch that. He was probably making sure a camera cue hit right. He was always worried about those things.
The camera caught Han mid-smirk, all fire and finesse. Y/Nâs chest ached in that way it always did when they saw him like thisâ so far away, and yet still, somehow, theirs.
They watched the rest of the performance, eyes glued to Han the entire time.
I canât wait to watch this all over again⊠when heâs next to me.
Y/N smiled to themself, already picturing his smug little grin when he replayed it later, waiting for praise.
The performance ended almost too quickly. Y/N blinked at the screenâ dazed, proud, and aching just a little. They were just about to text him âyou crushed it, baby!!â when their phone buzzed.
FaceTime. âhannie <33â
âHey!â he beamed, slightly out of breath, sweat dripping down his forehead and glitter clinging to his jaw. âDid you see me?â
Y/N blinked. âAre you calling me from the dressing room?â
âNo,â he said, way too fast. âIâm calling you from a⊠secure, undisclosed location where I definitely wasnât pretending to be cool for a billion cameras. But for real, how was it?â
âYou were fine, I guess⊠But Hyunjin might have outshined you a little,â they teased.
âExcuse me?!â His voice shot up half an octave. âThat was the best 45 seconds of rap Korea has ever seen! I practiced for months!â
Y/N snorted, laughing so hard they had to wipe a stray tear from their cheek.
âNo, babe, you looked great. Happy. Like you were having fun.â
Han went quiet for a second, eyes flicking off to the side as he tried not to smile.
âItâs âcause I was thinking about youâŠâ he muttered, glancing back with a soft laugh.
âDid I look okay? Were my bangs working with me or against me?â
âYou looked great, babe. Bangs were on your side. Fully cooperating.â
From somewhere off-screen came Bang Chanâs voiceâ quiet but just loud enough to make Y/N laugh: âStop flirting and take off your mic pack! Get off FaceTime, lover boy!â
âIâm not flirting!â Han called back. âIâm⊠doing a survey!â
Y/N bit back a grin. âYouâre such a weirdo.â
âYour weirdo,â he said easily, grinning like he just won something. âBut seriously⊠I did good?â
The way he askedâ quieter now, less dramaticâ made something in their chest squeeze. He was still glowing from the stage, but now he looked a little smaller. Just Han again. Not the idol. Just the man who still needed to hear it.
Y/N tucked their knees up to their chest, the ache in their heart blooming into warmth. âYou did better than okay. You were amazing, Hannie.â
His smile softened. âYeah?â
âYeah. Iâm proud of you.â
For a moment, he didnât say anything. Just looked at them through the screen like he wanted to step through it. Then, softly: âThanks. I really needed that.â
Someone called for him again. He sighed, groaned dramatically, and rolled his eyes like it physically pained him. âOkay, okay! Iâm coming! Love you, gotta goâ call you later?â
âAlways,â Y/N said.
He blew a kiss at the camera and hung up mid-smooch. Y/N stared at the lock screen for a second, then laughed to themself, burying their face in Hanâs hoodie. It smelled like him. Like his cologne. His tea. Him.
Heâd be home in a few days. But for now⊠this was enough.
#kpop#stray kids#straykids#han#han jisung#hannie#han quokka#stray kids han#stray kids jisung#3racha#k-pop#4th gen kpop#han jisung x reader#x reader#han jisung x gn reader#gender neutral reader#han jisung x y/n#han jisung x you#han jisung fluff#skz#skz x reader#skz han x reader#skz han
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New Signing, New Beginning Part 7

Mia Larsen was Barcelonas new summer signing
Alexia Putellas is a club legend who just can't seem to talk to her
Mia was staying with Keira the night of the El Classico, she was relaxing on her sofa watching the TV as Keira was getting the spare room ready, something she hovered to help with but was scolded so skulked away. There was some Spanish soap on the television her grandparents watched religiously, she found herself invested and if not home to catch it had them record the episode for her. She smiled at the text she got from her Gran assuring her she was recording the episode for her incase Keira didnât watch it.
âHeyâ Kiera spoke as she came into the living room, she looked at the TV âOh god you like this too?â Keira flopped onto the sofa, âAlexia loves it, her and Lucy used to always talk about it, she used to watch it, I havenât a clue whatâs going on everâ
âWhy did you not just put subtitles on?â Mia spoke like it was the most obvious suggestion and it probably was
âShe wouldnât let me, she said I would pick up Spanish better if I didnât have them onâ Mia giggled moving her head to look at Keira before her attention turned right back to the episode, âNot that has proved to be trueâ
âItâs nice you two are still friendsâ
âThere was no bad blood there, we just.. ran our course I guess. Ona makes her so happy, and sheâs a good person. She helps me a lot with my Spanishâ
Mia hummed, âI noticed that, Aitana has the thankless task of the Catalan Iâve noticedâ
âWe donât all grow up in multi lingual houses Miaâ Mia smiled, âI think Aita has given up, to be fair it just wasnât going in at all, languages has never been my thingâ
âYou understand a lotâ
Keira nodded, âYeah I understand it just canât speak itâ Keira pointed to the Tv, âThought you were watching thisâ
âItâs fine, my gran text sheâs recording it for meâ
Keira swooned, âThat is so adorableâ
âYeah.. sheâs the bestâ
Both looked as there was tapping at the door, Keira furrowed her brows as Mia looked back to her silently asking are you going to get that, Keira pulled herself off the sofa and towards the door she pulled it, âOh, hiâ she smiled at Alexia at her door, Mia hadnât turned around to see who was at the door she just snuggled under her blanket that little bit more.
She felt her body get goosebumps when she heard that voice, one sheâd not heard in some time now, it had been maybe 4 days since theyâre confrontation, Mia had lost count of the nights sheâd laid awake replaying it over and over in her head. What she would say when Alexia made the move to make it less awkward between them again. If she had the chance. Mia had become an expert in not being where Alexia was until today.
Alexia opened her mouth to ask her question when she got the sweetest smile on her lips, âYou watch this? Lucy said you hated itâ
âOh umâ Keira looked and from here you couldnât actually see Mia, âNo.. Mias here, she watches itâ Keira silently gained Alexiaâs attention her eye contact told her to go say hello, âWhat did you need?â
âOh, I needed sugar.. pleaseâ
Keira nodded, âIâll put some in a cupâ
âGraciasâ
Mia sat tense whether the captain would come acknowledge her or not, she knew she was here but there conversation moved past Miaâs presence quite quickly. Miaâs chin rose to look above her, feeling her presence, her attention was fully focused on the show, Mia lowered her head back down. For a second she thought Alexia had pointedly come over to actively ignore her, âHolaâ her voice was timid, Alexia was fearful sheâd get the angry face from Mia that had played on repeat in her dreams.
Mia swallowed, âHolaâ that came out quieter than she intended, Mia found herself wanting to make small talk but she figured sheâd let Alexia fill the silence, she obviously came over for a reason. Maybe actually mustering up the courage to apologise, who knows.
Alexia glanced as Keira appeared with a cup, âGraciasâ Alexia stared at the sugar in the cup, âYou were great todayâ
âThank youâ Mia spoke softly, Alexia waited for her to say something else, smile at her, just even acknowledge she was stood behind her but she never. Alexia admitted defeat despite her abysmal attempt and retreated back to her apartment a few floors up.
âMiaâ Keira said softly as she sat back down
âI know i did wrong but she started itâ
âAre you 12?â
Mia smiled, âNo, but she loves reminding me sheâs the captain so she can make this right thatâs what a captain should doâ
+
Mia was fiddling with her shorts as she walked down the corridor, âBon Diaâ she rose her head and Alexia was right in front of her. Alexia smiled ever so slightly, she really wanted to make amends with Mia but she just didnât know where to start with it.
âBon Diaâ Mia lowered her head again and went walking straight by her, Alexia took a breath turned grabbed her hand before Mia even knew what was happening she found herself in the meeting room door shut and Alexia blocking the exit. âIâm not doing this with you againâ
âSit downâ
âNoâ Mia fought back, âWhy should I sit down?â
âSitâ Alexia rose her voice slamming the chair back out from under the table, âDownâ
The girls in the locker room next door fell silent hearing Alexia raise her voice, Keira swallowed there was only one person Alexia would speak to like that. There was only one other person missing.
âSitting down isnât going to happen, what, do you wantâ Mia had her back up, and rightfully so here Alexia was speaking to her like shit again. Mia could feel all these emotions swirling around her body as they stood silently neither making a move Alexia looking everywhere but her as she searched for some words to say.
Mia silently urged Alexia just to make this right, apologise, do something because holding her hostage in the meeting room wasnât achieving anything. It was pointless. Futile. Fruitless. It was getting them no where. It wasnât achieving anything. It was just building more anger and resentment towards the captain on Mias part.
âThis is stupidâ Mia moved by Alexia, she didnât mean to bump into her as she opened the door.
âStopâ Alexia slammed the door back shut, turning Mias body to face her. They were incredibly close, Alexia could feel Miaâs breath. She was lost in every sense Mia was infiltrating. Her touch, her smell, her sight. The words werenât coming yet again and she could feel Mias anger building again.
âSay something thenâ Mia whispered into the smallest gap between them, Alexia practically pushing her against the door.
âPlease, just, sit downâ
Mia put her hands on Alexiaâs stomach forcing some distance, âThatâs not what you needed to sayâ Mia slipped out the door making sure to slam it, the girls in the locker room heard the door slam followed by something clattering. Alexia had kicked a chair. Mia appeared in view walking straight through the locker room.
âMiaâ Keira spoke getting to her feet
âIâm fineâ Simply stated before heading out to the gym for todayâs recovery session. It was Keira and Ingrid that went after her.
Alexia was noticeably missing for some time, she arrived finally her eyes scanning to see where Mia was. She was tucked in the corner on the treadmill, Pere talking to her, she didnât say a word however. She was just nodding, she got a little smile towards the end.
Alexia plonked herself down between Mapi and Patri to began stretching, âI need your helpâ she directed at Patri, âIâ Alexia looked to Patri and to Patri, her friend looked anguished. âI donât know what to do, I keep making it worse.â The pain in Alexiaâs face and voice was evident, the spaniard clearly torn apart about the way her friendship or lack there of with Mia was going.
âWhat happened?â
âI pulled her into the office, she wouldnât sit downâ Alexia looked like she was almost going to have a panic attack recounting the story.
âYou shoved her into a door?â Patri asked
Alexiaâs head dropped, âSheâs never going to forgive meâ
Patri put her hands on the captainâs neck yanking her to kiss her temple, âYou need to speak to her, sheâs just a person Ale why do you find it so hard to just speak to herâ
Alexia shrugged, she knew sheâd finally figured it out, but she would never get the opportunity to explain to Mia she doubted now.
+
Alexia sat nervously in the restaurant waiting on an arrival, Patri told her to be here and sheâd get Mia here. Alexia looked at the time and she should have been here by now, maybe sheâd arrived seen it wasnât in-fact Patri she was meeting and just left.
Her head rose and she froze much like Mia had, their eyes locked over the restaurant, Mia instantly knew. Her dinner date wasnât Patri. It was Alexia all along. She did think it was odd the restaurant choice Patri had suggested but it became clearer. A waiter approached Mia as Alexia rose to her feet, she told him with a smile she was meeting a friend and sheâd seen her. That smile quickly dropped however as she began closing the distance to the table way at the back Alexia stood awkwardly.
âBuenas Nochesâ Alexia said softly watching as Mia took her seat, she lowering herself back down. She hoped they could work this out.
Mia placed her bag on the floor took off her jacket and poured herself a glass of water, Alexia felt it was a good start sheâd at least stayed. It was a good sign.
âDonât blame Patriâ
Mia sipped her water finally looking at Alexia, âWho else am i to blame?â
Alexia shrugged, âMe i guess, I asked her to get you here so we could talkâ Mia simply nodded as her glass was lowered back to the table
âTalk thenâ Mias attitude wasnât helping Alexiaâs sweaty palms but she knew it was justified. She had to ignore it. She needed to start the ball rolling tonight in making this amends with Mia.
âI donât know how to speak to youâ Alexia just started if she over thought what she was going to say or how to say it, it wouldnât come out, âAnd I know it sounds stupid because weâve had conversations butâ Alexia stuttered slightly, âI feel like.. you are the only person thatâs ever come here that when you look at me you arenât looking at Alexia Putellas, youâre looking at.. meâ Mia lowered her gaze, âIâm not used to that, and it makes me feel vulnerable around you. I donât let myself be vulnerable around many people especially people iâve just met. It scares me. And. I donât know why but my natural reaction is to just be mean to you and i donât know why. And i hate myself for it, i really wish i wouldnât do thatâ
Mia rose her eyes back to Alexiaâs as they were interrupted, Alexia ordered the wine she knew Mia liked when asked about food Alexia checked Mia knew what she wanted and they ordered. Mia sat back looking around the restaurant sheâd never been here before, she looked back to Alexia. âMe toâ
Alexia swallowed, âIâm sorryâ
Mia softened almost instantly, she didnât speak as the waiter brought over their wine and poured them each a glass, Mia gladly sipped hers needing the courage. She watched as Alexia looked past her out into the restaurant, Mia didnât know how it got to this and maybe her avoiding Alexia only proved to deepen the tensions. âI donât actually think your a dick by the wayâ Alexia moved her eyes to Mia, âMaybe a little bit but id had quite a bit to drink and i was out of order, i shouldnât of spoken to you like that ever let alone in-front of the teamâ
Alexia let herself curl her lips ever so slightly, âI donât even know what you mean by dickâ
Mia lowered her head as she smiled, âIn England we use it as an insult or to describe someone whoâs being not very nice or arenât nice, itâs a harsher way of saying jerk basicallyâ
Alexia lifted her chin briefly now understanding, âWell as you say, I was being, a dickâ Mia laughed, âWhatâs funny?â
âJust your accent when you speak Englishâ Alexia tilted her head, âItâs cuteâ Alexia blushed, this was going better than Alexia thought it would be, even if Mias laugh was at her expense. Mia silently tore off some bread as she chewed she felt maybe she owed it to Alexia to tell her the truth. âYou know when you asked me what Olga wantedâ
âThat was none of my business i shouldnât of askedâ
âIt sort of is your businessâ Alexiaâs face pulled in confusion, âAs Captain⊠she wants me at Madridâ
âWhat?â
Mia shrugged, âShe said if i say the word Toril would put an offer in in the January windowâ
âYou want to go?â Mia simply shook her head eating some more bread, âDid you say that?â
Mia nodded, âDespite it appears itâs your lifeâs mission to make me hate it here, I like it, i enjoy the footballâ
âI am sorryâ
Mia nodded finally making eye contact, âI know. But, weâve been here beforeâ
Alexia knew her apology was appreciated but she also knew her actions from here on out would speak louder. She needed to not let herself try to push Mia away just because she was infatuated with her in a way she never had with someone before. Mia was different. She knew that. She knew sheâd be punching to even attempt to pursue Mia but the way sheâd been behaving, it was never going to happen.
Patri had told Alexia Mia thought she was attractive. It gave Alexia hope.
âYou do realise your now down a midfielderâ Alexia rose her head from dipping her bread, âIâm going to kill Patriâ
Alexia smiled, âI made her do itâ
Mia hummed, âBet the capitana line came outâ Mia rose her eyes, âAm i really that scary to you that you couldnât just speak to meâ
Alexia shook her head, âYou make me nervousâ
Mias forehead wrinkled in response, âWhy?â
Alexia shrugged, âEveryone else always seems to be so impressed by Alexia Putellas, you donâtâ I feel not good enough is what Alexia missed off the end of her sentence.
âI am impressed by you, of course i am all youâve achieved and what you can do. But i understand thereâs a person behind all that, one that deserves just as much acknowledgment. I want to know you Alexia, not âAlexia Puetellasâ even though she is pretty coolâ Alexia rose her eyes, âIf that makes you nervous iâm sorry but youâre going to have to get over it, because clearly just not speaking isnât something you want eitherâ
Alexia laughed softly, âWhy do i feel like i got you here to sort things and you ended up being the one to fix itâ
âBecause iâm just that amazingâ Mia smiled sitting back sipping her wine, âPlus i need you on my side when I punch Patri tomorrowâ
âIâll hold her if you wantâ Alexia joked making Miaâs smile even bigger, âAlthough.. seems it was worth itâ
Mia nodded as she spotted there food coming over, âSeems itâ
Mia let Alexia come back to her grandparents in the taxi they stayed in the restaurant just talking for hours, Miaâs cheeks hurt from the smile Alexia kept on her face all evening, she was funny. Unintentionally witty and incredibly charming. If Mia wasnât mistaken she could have sworn at one point they were gently flirting with each other, the ride to her grandparents home was held in a comfortable silence.
Mia unlocked the door and flicked on a light as she walked into the bungalow dropping her bag and keys on the table to her right she had breakfast at every morning, Alexia dipped her head as she followed her inside, closing the door behind herself. She took in her environment she smiled, it screamed grandparents, family pictures scattered around the space, âIâll be back, make yourself comfy if you wantâ
Alexia simply nodded as Mia disappeared off into a room off the kitchen, she let her eyes scan around, her lips tugged seeing Miaâs picture the club took in her kit on her first day, framed on the mantel piece one side. Alexia let her feet carry herself to the opposite side, she scanned the family picture, she instantly spotted Mia big smile on her face flanked by Alexia knew were her parents she was the perfect mix of both. Alexia carried on wandering, looking at more pictures of the grandchildren, nearly all Miaâs pictures were football related, she either had on a football shirt, or a football was visible in the picture.
Alexia rose her eyes as Mia reappeared opening the fridge, âYou were a cute kidâ Alexia commented, Mia smiled as she got two bottles of water out of the fridge, closing the door coming towards her holding one to her.
âThanksâ she tittered at the comment
âWhy is that funny?â Mia just shrugged, opening her water, âAnd you say Iâm weirdâ
âNo.. I say youâre awkwardâ Mia swigged some of the water, âYou want to go sit by the pool?â
âYou have a pool?â Alexia asked, Mia started walking backwards
âFollow me La Reinaâ Mia turned, she got to a door soon enough opening it to a rather large back garden considering the quaint size of the bungalow. Alexia shut the door behind her self as she saw Mia was already lowering her self to sit on the edge of the pool her feet dipping into the water. Mia spoke as Alexia silently joined her, âI like to sit hereâ she pointed up, âYou get a real good view of the starsâ Alexia watched Mia as she stared up at the sky clearly mesmerised, âYou never saw this many stars in Londonâ There was a subtle curve of Miaâs lips as she kept her gaze on the night sky, unaware how Alexia was admiring her taking in every inch of her, relishing in the interrupt view âMy dad loved space, he was always so intrigued by it, heâd sit for hours at his telescope just looking. He never really liked football, but that was the thing we could talk about, instead of watching a game together weâd go look at the stars togetherâ Mia laughed gently to herself at the memory, âMum would hate how many space documentaries weâd watch, one Sunday he promised it would be finished before Barcelona played, it didnât. She missed the first half, she was so angry she refused to cook dinner.â Mia swallowed as she seemed to catch herself, she glanced seeing Alexia watching her and lowered her gaze, âAnyway, you didnât come here to listen to me witter on about spaceâ
âI like listening to you.. itâs cute when you speak Englishâ Alexia smiled proudly when Mia rolled her eyes shaking her head
âIâll push you in the poolâ
âYou wouldnât dareâ
Mia looked to Alexia a playful glint in her eye, âYou clearly donât know me very wellâ
âYouâd actually push me in the poolâ
Mia smiled as the water bottle came to her lips humming as she nodded before taking a sip.
âWhen you think you know someoneâ Alexia jokingly shook her head, before she knew it. She was in the pool, Mia on the side laughing at her as she popped back up.
Mia was laughing it soon faded when she saw Alexiaâs face, âNo, donât even think about itâ Mia pointed at her, âAlexiaâ Mia couldnât help but laugh when Alexia took hold of an ankle. âIâm sorryâ
âOh wellâ Alexia took her hand and pulled her in to.
Alexia was laughing when Mia appeared back through the top of the water, it was a beautiful sound Mia could listen to it forever. It faded when they realised just how close they were floating. Miaâs favourite thing about Alexia was quickly becoming her eyes, her dark brown eyes that always seemed to draw her in. Even when Alexia had nothing nice to say they were the softest part of her. Theyâd change colour in the sun and become brighter, theyâd glint when she was feeling cheeky.Â
Mia got goosebumps when Alexiaâs arm slipped around her waist gently gripping her waist as she helped hold her up, it was an excuse to be closer in truth. Mia slipped her arms around her neck and they held each other silently for what felt like an eternity. But it still felt not long enough when Mia felt Alexia start to pull away, she smiled feeling her peck her check. Mia let her arms fall her hands resting on Alexiaâs strong shoulders instead she spotted Alexia swallow a nervous lump in her throat. Mia whispered when Alexiaâs eyes trained to her lips, âWhat you waiting for?â Alexiaâs eyes shot back to Miaâs own, âMapi isnât comingâ
Alexia let a simple breath push out in amusement, a warm feeling washed through Mia as Alexia came closer, it felt like fireworks going off inside her as her face leaned in closer. Their lips brushed together, tentatively. It was brief, sweet, innocent and she expected nothing less from the awkward Alexia. Sheâd felt Alexiaâs shoulders relax under her fingertips the second their lips brushed, Alexia had been imagining this moment since the day they met. The way Miaâs lips would feel against their own, how her body would feel against the brits. It was everything and more than she imagined.
Alexia cleared her rambling thoughts her lips still painfully close to Miaâs that one simple kiss wasnât enough. Her heart raced as she reconnected there lips, Mias body setting on fire as there lips moved in perfect synchronicity bodyâs pushing together as her back gently touched against the wall of the pool. The cold forcing her chest forward in an attempt to relieve the sting of the cold. She let her hands come to Alexiaâs jawline when Alexia used one hand to hold her self up the other still around Mia. It may of been a slow kiss but it certainly was intense.
Mia licked her lips when they parted, both their breathing was unsteady and fast, they didnât speak neither wanting to pop the bubble of bliss they were in. Alexiaâs thumb was slowly moving up and down on her waist as there breathing was slowly becoming under control.
Mia spoke first, âShall we umâ she started when she saw Alexiaâs jaw chatter very briefly, âShall we get out, itâs a bit coldâ Alexia nodded, she reluctantly removed her arm from around Mia and without her body against her own her jaw now had a mind of its own. The heat of Mia or between them no longer shielding just how cold this pool was.
Alexia hovered at the door, Mia looked back when she didnât follow, âIâm dripping everywhereâ
Mia smiled, âYour fine, itâs tiles itâll dryâ Mia kept going, she headed to the bathroom to grab them some towels. She smiled when she came back and Alexia still wasnât inside. âAlexia youâre going to get sick just come insideâ Mia put the towel around Alexia, âPleaseâ Mia smiled when Alexia slipped by her into the home.
Mia showed Alexia her room, got her some dry clothes out and offered her the hairdryer she left her to it whilst she used her grandparents room to change out the wet clothes.
Alexia came out Mias room in a pair of her barcelona shorts and a plain grey jumper to see Mia already on the sofa the soft light of her phone lighting her face. She looked when she heard Alexia, âYou, sticking around or do you want me to drive you home?â
âIâll get a taxiâ
âYouâre not getting a taxi, youâll either stay here or i take you homeâ
âSorry, whoâs captain?â
âMy houseâ Mia rose to her feet with a smile, âMy rulesâ Alexia got a smile like Mia hadnât seen before, was this the Alexia everyone else got because if they did she was incredibly jealous. She was hot. âWhat you doing Putellas?â
âIâm not dragging you out itâs lateâ
âOkâ Mia glided by Alexia whose smile just got bigger, âNo funny business though, iâm not that easyâ Alexia laughed and as she turned Mia stood staring. âWhy is that so funny?â Alexia shrugged, âYouâve been talking to Keira havenât you?â
Mia got into bed moving over to the other side next to the wall, she tried to hide how amused she was with how awkward Alexia was being about the situation. It was just adorable. âI havenâtâ Alexia lay flat on her back, stiff as a board, âShould i?â
âYou could just ask meâ Alexia turned her head to Mia and Mia was just honest, âIâve had three relationshipsâ
âWhy did they end?â
âFirst one, just ran its course we were young, second, she moved to Germany for football so we ended that, Third thatâs the one that Keira would say sent me spiral into âFuck buddy eraâ that we wonât count or get intoâ
Alexia turned onto her side, the casual conversation easing her into there wasn't an expectation, âWhy?â
âShe was 10 years older than me, based in America but it worked somehow. Til it didnât when she asked me to marry herâ
Alexia looked over Miaâs face, âWell the fact your not married tells me how that endedâ
Mia smiled turning to her, âI said no, and that was that. Rather abrupt way to end something i was quite happy in but i was 24, i wasnât ready for that and she obviously was being older.â Mia laughed softly to herself, âYou know what they say to get over someone get under someone else, i sure did thatâ Mia looked away, âDonât even know why Iâm telling you that doesnât paint me in a good wayâ
Alexia smiled softly, âYour just being honest, who am i to judgeâ Alexia took a breathe, âIâve not dated in 5 yearsâ
Mia looked to Alexia, âNot to ruin this moment but you not dating is a hate crime to all the gay women of Barcelonaâ Alexia thankfully smiled, âYou get how hot you are right?â Alexiaâs smile grew, âIâm being seriousâ Mia giggled, âAnswer meâ
âYou think iâm hot?â
âI know Patri told you, that women canât keep a secret unless itâs about who sheâs sleeping with then sheâs surprisingly quiet on the matterâ
âPatriâs seeing someoneâ Miaâs eyes went a little wide, âMia!â
âBuenas noches dulces sueñosâ Mia turned to face the wall smiling hearing Alexia laughing softly.
âI wonât say come onâ
âNoâ
âMiaâ Alexia reached forward and Mia squirmed under her touch, âAre you ticklish?â
âNoâ
Alexia laughed as she tickled Mia her body trying to get away but the wall blocking her route, Mia ended up on her back directly below Alexiaâs gaze. âTell meâ
âNoâ
âMiaâ
âStopâ Mia laughed grabbing at Alexiaâs hand, she finally let Mia prize it off her but only because their fingers laced. âIf you watch her, youâll figure it outâ Alexia furrowed her brows, âWatch her, all iâm sayingâ
The pair spoke some more before Mia was slowly falling asleep, she woke in the night and Alexia was wrapped around her. She smiled and let herself go back to sleep, in the comfort of Alexiaâs strong arms.
+
It was match day as Mia entered the locker room Patri made a beeline for her, âWell?â
âWell what?â Mia looked up at her as she sat down
âWhat happened?â Patri looked awkward as Alexia entered the room.
âAs if iâd tell youâ Alexia took her spot beside her, âLiarâ
Patri put both hands on either of Miaâs cheek, âIâll find out, I always doâ
âBig talk from someone with big secretsâ
Patri narrowed her eyes and walked away, âIâm watching youâ
âEnjoy the view my loveâ Mia pouted a kiss at her as she took her seat the other end of the locker room.
Mia felt nervous her and Alexia had been here before, today would be the day to see if theyâd actually turned a corner or not.
Mia lowered her head as they started to hover to come out for the warm up, Alexia chose to stand beside her which she never did. âIâm seriousâ Alexia spoke hushed, âI want that pan cake recipeâ Mia lifted her head and smiled, âThey were goodâ Mia made Alexia pancakes in her Grandparents as Alexia sat patiently at the table watching her,
âI know, you had 5â Alexia couldnât wipe the smile off her face as they jogged out for the warm up.
Alexia turned jogging backwards, âYou promised you wouldnât judgeâ
Mia mimicked the coach doing the warm ups, âNo judgement just pointing it outâ
+
Mia was starting todayâs game, it was 20 minutes in and Barcelona were three nil up when she was pushing forward with the ball once again.
Mia was tackled and the whole stadium stood still.Â
The thud was sickening the cry she let out sent chills down everyoneâs spines. Alexia sprinted over to her, âMiaâ she got onto her knees hand on her back, âMia..â
âI think sheâs broke my ankleâ
Alexia moved when the medical team got to her, she walked away visibly worried, âIs she ok?â Keira asked
âShe said she thinks sheâs broke her ankleâ Alexia said before moving back to hover worried for her, she couldn't just leave her side. She needed to be there for her.
Surely Miaâs season couldnât be over just like that. It wasnât fair. The team spent a long time with Mia before the signal was shown to sub her off and Alexiaâs heart dropped seeing Miaâs face when she sat up. She looked devastated, players just knew when something was bad. Itâs only a feeling players whoâd gotten hurt know. It was the feeling they all dread.
When Mia was in the back she let her emotions out, hiding her face in her shirt as she cried this wasnât suppose to be how it went, sheâd had a dream start to life at Barcelona. It couldnât all end like this. She heard a cheer go up, Barcelona were clearly fine without her scoring multiple more times. That fourth goal, Alexia scored.
She held up one finger on one hand and five on the other.
15 for Mia.
She had to be ok, she just had to be. There was no way around it.
Chapter 8
#alexia x reader#woso#barca femeni#barcelona femeni#woso fanfics#alexia putellas#alexia putellas fanfic#alexia putellas x reader
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The Best Medicine
Kageyama Tobio x reader - 1k words
Your daughter is sick. Kageyama stays home with her.
Reader is referred to as "mommy"
"She'll be fine," Tobio assures you. "I'll be here with her all day."
"I know," You sigh. Ever since you left work early yesterday to pick your daughter up from daycare, you've been fussing over her. It's just a fever and a cough, something that the doctor assured you will go away on its own with some medicine and time, but you can't help but worry just a little. It makes sense for Tobio to stay with her today - it's the off season, and he doesn't have any training scheduled. You're the one in the middle of a big project at work.
"I just gave her more medicine," You continue as you gather your things for work, "And it should keep her knocked out for a bit. The rest is good for her." You're saying it as much for yourself as for Tobio's benefit. He nods along anyway. "Just remember to have her eat a little something when she takes the next dose," You add as you pull on your coat.
"I will. Don't worry," He says more firmly, gripping your shoulders and looking you in the eye, forcing you to stop moving for just a moment. "We'll be just fine here. If anything comes up, I'll give you a call right away."
"Okay." You manage a smile. "Thanks, Tobio."
"Of course. I love you," He leans in for a peck before he releases you.
"I love you too," You reply on your way out the door, "I'll see you later."
With that, you're gone, and Tobio turns back into the quiet house. He doesn't have much lined up for the morning, he just starts a load of laundry and then settles on the couch with a replay of a recent match on the quietest setting. He takes a few notes every now and then.
Eventually, lunch time draws near. After heating up a quick meal for himself, he's slotting his few dishes in the dishwasher when he hears the call.
"Mommy!" Your daughter whimpers, and he closes the dishwasher, making his way to her room before she has a chance to call out again. It's just about time for her next round of medicine, anyway.
"Hi, baby," He says gently, brushing sweaty strands of hair away from her forehead. She's still warm, but the fever has definitely gone down.
"Want Mommy," She insists, her lower lip jutting out in a pout.
"Mommy's at work," He reminds her. You'd said goodbye to her this morning right before you left. "She'll be home later." She doesn't look pleased, but she doesn't say another word. "Are you a little hungry?" He asks, changing the subject.
"No," She shakes her head.
"Not even for some applesauce?" He asks as he gently tugs the blanket off of her. "It will help the medicine make you all better."
She hesitates for a moment. "Kay," She agrees quietly. He picks her up, carrying her to the kitchen. If she weren't sick, she would have scrambled out of bed and darted down the hallway on her own. It's clear she's still not feeling like herself.
After the snack of applesauce and dose of medicine, he lifts her to his hip again, prepared to tuck her back in bed. Her eyes are already drooping. In her room, he moves to lay her back down on the pillow, but she clings to his neck.
"No, Daddy," She whimpers into his chest.
"I'll read you a story," He suggests, settling down on the edge of the bed with her still in his arms.
"Don't wanna story." She shakes her head, scrubbing a fist at her eye. "Wanna watch TV."
He sighs and softens. "Okay," He agrees. In the living room, he puts on one of her favorite shows. He moves to set her down on the couch, but she clings to him again.
"No," She shakes her head.
"No?" He echoes, then settles her on his lap. "Alright." If she wants to stay close to him so badly, how can he say no to that? She leans against him, soft and warm in his arms, entranced by the colorful animations on the screen and clutching her bunny.
The older she gets, the less interested she has become in sitting still and cuddling. It seems she's always on the move, running around and playing. It isn't often that he gets to just hold her like this.
His eyes wander from the screen down to her, eyes drooping again as she slips her thumb in her mouth. Just this once, he decides to let it slide. She's getting so big. Sometimes he doesn't even realize how quickly. Soon enough she'll be off to school, maybe joining sports or the band, spending time with all of the new friends she'll make. She won't be his little girl who fits in his arms like this forever - he should savor this moment.
Time blurs by as he holds her, half-paying attention to the show as one short episode turns to another, half-dozing himself. He doesn't even realize how long it's been until he hears the door open.
"I'm home!" You say as you step inside. It isn't long before you find them in the living room, your daughter cradled against Tobio's chest. He smiles at you, and your daughter stirs against him, woken by the slight commotion.
"Hi my love," You coo at her, "How are you feeling?" She only hums in response, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Why don't we let Daddy get up?" You ask, reaching for her.
"Hm-mm," She shakes her head, snaking her arms around his neck again and burying her face against him. You look at him with wide, surprised eyes, and he can only return the expression. Earlier, she'd pouted because you weren't there. He's just as taken aback.
"Well," Your expression softens as you whisper, "I guess you had a good day with Daddy then." You lean in to kiss him, and he returns it. "How long have you been sitting here?" You ask.
"A few hours," He estimates, "But I don't mind." He presses a kiss to the top of her head. "She'll be begging for you before you know it," He predicts, and you shake your head with a smile. You both know he's right. For now, if snuggles with Daddy are what she wants, how can you deny her?
#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#kageyama x reader#kageyama tobio x reader#kageyama tobio#moon writes#moon writes hq
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