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yunhoszn · 9 months ago

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save a horse, ride a cowboy

PAIRING jeong yunho x f!reader

WORD COUNT 12.25k

GENRES fluff﹒angst﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, reader is a city girl but i tried not using too many gendered terms, cowboy!yunho RAHHHHH, mentions of food, reader has a boyfriend for most of the fic (an oc) but there’s no real infidelity, reader embarrasses themselves on what i’d say is a few occasions too many, yunho is down bad, masturbation (m! and brief f! receiving), lowkey voyeurism, a really bad dad joke, horse riding scene bc i feel that’s pivotal for a cowboy fic, lots and lots of kissing, marking, teasing, vaginal fingering x2, oral sex (f! receiving) x2, multiple orgasms, very slight edging, praise, pet names (baby, babe, and princess oops), unprotected sex (BE SAFE PLS I BEG), cowgirl position, pull out method, missionary position, creampie lol, ending is cute but also kinda up for interpretation? i guess <3

SUMMARY when your grandparents decided to retire and take a summer’s long vacation in celebration, they leave their house in your care. at least you don’t have to worry about feeding the farm animals. but you do have to worry about the tall, handsome cowboy who does.

MORE AND SHE’S DONE oh my god, this fic actually pulled so much out of me i think i was the one seeing stars by the end.. 😭 but i’m so proud of it and the goals i tried meeting while writing. first of all the length??? insane for me. i can hardly get myself to write anything longer thank 5k 😞 THATS ENOUGH ABOUT ME THO,,, this fic was heavily inspired by the django performance if u couldn’t tell by the banner 😝 and i’d first like to thank the academy aka @kimsohn for encouraging me to write this and fueling my delusions ilysm maya <3 i’d also like to give a huge thank u to @bro-atz TYSM FOR BETAING AND HELPING WITH SCENES BRO ur my life saver fr <3 PLS PLS PLS REBLOG IF U ENJOYED!!

Growing up, you weren’t the biggest fan of trips to your grandparents’ farm in the rural countryside.

You were born in a big city, full of all the glitz and glam. There were bright lights that lit the skyline at night, distracting from the stars that illuminated above. The wide open space was blocked by high towers and large skyscrapers. You were accustomed to the sound of bustling pedestrians and the obnoxious honking of cars in the streets. There was seldom an evening of complete silence.

Everything was so tightly packed together, within walking distance if you didn’t feel like hopping in a car for a fifteen minute drive. You appreciated the insanity of the train station in the mornings before school, the metro so busy with students and working class individuals. You came into contact with numerous strangers throughout your day to day life.

However, every summer until you were a senior in high school was a different story.

Your parents wanted to keep you humble, you supposed, shipping you off to your grandparents’ for three months. Living in the city kept people too sheltered, too primped and polished for the real world. They wanted you to have that exposure, to experience what it was like to live without the fanciness of urbanization. The nine months out of the year that you spent in the city stunted that exposure, though.

When you’d arrive at their farm, luggage stacked like you were taking a trip to London or Paris, you felt like a glorified version of Regina George. Maybe Blair Waldorf. Elle Woods? You weren’t even rich like that. Your parents were nice, middle class people. There was just something about cow manure and the fear of stepping on a freshly laid egg that made it difficult to adjust to the setting.

It was most likely your stubbornness throughout your childhood that held you back even as you got older and more educated. You thought after graduating high school, the three-months-long “retreat” would come to an end. You’d only need to visit when necessary, maybe a week max. And that was true to an extent. During your university years, you only visited the farm around once a year. You were too consumed with school to even go home sometimes.

And then your grandparents decided to retire.

Their farm had supplied the town over with produce and other home-grown items for as long as you could remember. But they were getting older and no one in the family was willing to inherit the farm or its responsibilities. In celebration of their retirement, they planned a grand vacation to visit multiple countries. Their itinerary spanned an entire summer, just like your trips to the farm when you were younger.

Because you were the only one familiar enough with the area, they enlisted you to housesit while they were gone. You tried to get out of it, but they didn’t trust anyone else as much as you, despite your convictions about country life. So you reluctantly agreed, packing up your things to prepare for another grueling summer at the farm one last time.

But there was a bit of a setback.

”What do you mean someone’s living in the farmhouse behind their house?” You shriek into the receiver, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear as you zip up your final bag. Your mom sighs on the other end.

”Your grandma just only now told me, apparently it slipped her mind,” you can hear the sympathy in her tone. “He’s this boy who grew up in the town and he’s gonna take over the farm for them on the condition that they still live on the property. She said he shouldn’t get in your way and he’s expecting your presence. You’ll only see him if you ever actually go out to the farm and when he brings groceries to the house.”

”Great. Another thing I didn’t sign up for.” You mutter, giving your bedroom a once over to make sure you’re not forgetting anything. “Is there anything else I should know before I get there, like a secret pet or maybe a family living in the attic?”

”Watch the attitude, Y/N,” she warns, and you shut up immediately. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. You’re a grown adult and you’d rather spend your summer going out with your friends, but you already told your grandparents you would do this for them. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You sigh, nodding even though she can’t see it. At least you didn’t have to worry about caring for their farm animals. It was time to think of this as a staycation rather than torture. Sure, your friends were going to be living it up in the Bahamas for a week and your boyfriend was going to be here while you were surrounded by nothing but flat landscape for acres.

Perhaps it was good for you that there would be someone else on the property. You might’ve started to feel scared being alone in the middle of nowhere for so long. Though, your boyfriend probably won’t be the biggest fan of you staying within the vicinity of another man for three months. You’d just deal with that later.

The drive to your grandparents’ farm is actually more peaceful than anything else. Driving for long periods of time wasn’t your favorite thing to do, but doing it by yourself with nothing but your music filling your ears was a sort of therapy. It allowed you to come to terms with your fate for the summer and what it could entail, even if it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind.

Seeing the lush greenery for miles upon miles as you neared their home evoked a sense of tranquility within you. If you kept a positive outlook on your situation, you would make it through these next few months unscathed and your sanity still intact. Maybe you despised the wide open space for years when you were a kid, but now that you’re an adult, you think you could learn to appreciate it and its beauty.

As long as the guy living in the farmhouse didn’t bother you like your grandmother said, everything would be—

Oh.

You pull up in front of the house, already thrown for a loop by the tall, very handsome stranger walking his dog back from the mailbox. His dark hair obscured his eyes, a bandana tied around his neck to match with the one hanging off the Border Collie’s collar. The two turn around at the sound of your engine, stopping in their tracks once you’ve parked.

He brings a hand up to shield the sun from his eyes, watching cautiously as you park slowly. You don’t know why you’re so anxious, it’s not like you’ll be interacting with him much during your stay anyways. There’s something about his slender figure and the fact that he was so clearly dedicated to what he does upon first glance that it makes you feel shy. You suck in a sharp breath before deciding to exit your vehicle, wiping clammy palms on your denim shorts. You’re starting to regret not dressing a little cuter, a little more presentable.

His features soften upon recognizing you, the pretty granddaughter that your grandparents showed him prior to leaving for their trip. The hand sheltering his face falls to his side and he gives you a warm smile, somehow warmer and brighter than the sweltering summer sun. You’d always been told not to talk to strangers, to keep your distance for your own safety, but you can’t help mirroring his expression with a small wave.

“H-Hi,” your voice wobbles and you kind of want to die just a bit. “I’m Y/N. My grandparents mentioned you lived in the farmhouse out back, but didn’t give me a name or face to expect.”

He extends his arm out and you shake his hand, albeit slightly nervously. His eyes squint when he glances between you and his dog. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’m Yunho, and this is Yeoreum.”

The name is fitting for the red and white colored Border Collie, her tongue sticking out as she stares up at you with big eyes that almost resemble her owner’s. You bend down to pet her, patting the soft tufts of fur on her head and appreciating her licks of excitement. Yunho laughs, whistling to catch her attention.

“Yunho and Yeoreum,” you repeat, a tiny grin on your face. “Befitting. Does she come with the property?”

“Unfortunately, no. She’s spoken for,” he teases, a pout on his features. “But she can visit whenever you’d like. Jokes aside, did you need any help moving stuff into the house?”

”That would be great, actually!” You scratch the back of your neck, lips pursing. Yunho waits for you to unlock the trunk of your car and places Yeoreum’s leash in your possession, making quick work transporting your bags inside. What was just supposed to be some light assistance, has evidently become him doing everything on his own while you stand and look pretty with his dog.

You didn’t bring too much with you since you didn’t have plans to leave while you were housesitting and your grandparents weren’t so old fashioned that they didn’t have a washing machine. Still, you felt useless allowing this stranger you’d just met to do all this manual labor on your behalf.

”Does he always do this?” You murmur to the Border Collie, falling to a seat on the lowest front porch step. She doesn’t give you a response (not that you expected her to), but pants happily in lieu of one, craning her head so you can scratch the spot behind her ear.

“You’re a guest, it’s just good hospitality for me to help.” Yunho says as he comes out of the house, stationing himself in front of you with his hands on his hips, thumbs in his belt loops.

“There’s a difference between helping and doing the work yourself. You’re just being modest,” you push yourself up to hand him Yeoreum’s leash. “But thank you anyway, that was really nice. I’m so tired from driving up here, so I think I would’ve collapsed doing all that back and forth.”

”You should go rest,” he glances at the house behind you. “There’s a whole three months of farm life ahead of you, so don’t wear your pretty little self out just yet.”

Yunho salutes to you and takes his leave, walking around your grandparents’ house toward what you assume is the farmhouse. Your eyes are wide and your cheeks feel hot, and you’re well aware that it’s not because of the summer heat. Your fingers clutch at the material of your t-shirt and you shake it to fan yourself.

It seemed like you were in for a bumpy ride these next few months. But like you reiterated prior to arriving, everything would be just fine so long as you and farm boy went your separate routes and lived your separate lives.

Yeah. Things would be alright. You hope.

It’s a week into your stay on your grandparents’ farm when you bump into Yunho again.

You’re toweling your neck after getting out of the shower, heading into the kitchen to make yourself another bowl of cereal for breakfast. So far the only downside has been your inability to cook a decent meal. Takeout or your boyfriend sleeping over were usually your saving grace, but without having either of those options, you’ve stuck to microwaveable things.

The sight of Yunho unloading groceries onto the counter has you squealing and nearly jumping out of your own skin. He flinches at your volume, knocking over the bag of rice resting against the vase in the center. Thankfully it was still sealed shut, if not there would’ve been a mess of rice grains all over the island counter. His clumsiness has you slapping a palm over your mouth to silence your giggles, not wanting to embarrass him.

”Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you…” You apologize sheepishly, folding your towel over your arm and placing it on a barstool nearby.

“N-No, you’re fine! I shouldn’t have just let myself in, it’s kinda just a habit. You deserve your privacy without having to worry about whether or not I’m gonna barge in unannounced.” He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand. “I’ll just put these up for you and then I’ll be on my way.”

”Can I help?” You waddle over to him, fingers laced behind your back. “I’d feel bad watching you put my groceries away for me after going out and getting them.”

Yunho gestures for you to occupy the space beside him with a small smile that takes solace at the corner of his mouth. The two of you do everything in complete silence, still not entirely used to each other’s presence because of the lack of crossing paths. As you’re finishing up, you start grabbing the items you need for your cereal. He raises an eyebrow at you.

”You don’t want something a little more filling?” He suddenly questions, jutting his chin at your bowl.

”I would love that if I knew how to cook,” you laugh. “Ironic isn’t it? The granddaughter of two farmers can’t cook to save their life.”

Yunho shakes his head with a chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Well, I don’t have to feed the horses for another hour if you’d like for me to whip up something better than a bowl of cereal.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows furrow. Despite growing up with the mindset that you were above the farm life your grandparents tried to impose on you, you hated feeling like you were coming across as entitled. You didn’t want Yunho to think you were lazy or that you were too good. “You don’t have to do that. I can survive on instant ramen and cereal, I swear.”

”Y/N,” he says your name with a certain authority to it, and you’ve never loved the sound of your name coming out of someone else’s mouth so much before. “I want to. I’m not the world’s greatest chef or anything, but I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

”Okay, then,” you nod, taking a seat at the island. You watch in awe as he dances around the kitchen and prepares something for you. It’s weird, not in the sense that you feel awkward around this complete stranger, but because you feel the opposite. You feel comfortable around him, like you’ve known him for a while. It’s almost like Yunho has been a casual part of your life for much longer than a week. He’s easy to get along with, easy to mold into what you’re used to.

And that’s weird because you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who cooks dinner for you most nights, but somehow has never made you feel this taken care of. It throws you off. That should definitely not be the case. How is this man doing this in one week and your boyfriend couldn’t in two years?

The guilt settles in the pit of your stomach quickly. Sure, your boyfriend might’ve had a habit of forgetting important dates and didn’t give you half as much attention as he should’ve, but did that warrant the emotions brewing in your chest? Could that excuse this notion that maybe it was time to finally call it quits?

You zone out as Yunho finishes cooking your breakfast, too inside of your head to even fawn over the doting and slight coddling he was doing. Maybe you need to have a long conversation with Seojun about your relationship and where you want it to go. Perhaps it was a nice idea to invite him out to visit the farm, it could do you both some good.

“Ta-da!” Yunho holds out a plate to you, the sparkle in his eyes effectively pushing out any thoughts of your boyfriend and the shame that was picking at you. You can’t help but reciprocate his expression when you see how delicious the food looks.

He’d made you omurice, the ketchup on top in cute squiggly lines to form whiskers and a little dog face. You accept the plate gratifyingly, your fingers brushing as you do so. He smiles shyly, eyeing you carefully while you take the first bite. You don’t remember the last time you had a home cooked breakfast, accustomed to the occasional muffin at the coffee shop near your house.

”’Not the world’s greatest chef’ my ass,” you grumble, pouting at his humbleness and his inability to be bad at anything. “I might just ask you to have breakfast with me every morning if you can chef it up this well.”

That melodic laugh of his rings in your ears, his elbows resting on the island and his chin in his palms. “I’m sure Yeoreum would appreciate a companion who isn’t me.”

“How long have you had her?” You ask, shoveling more omurice into your mouth. If you weren’t so hungry and so appeased by how delicious it was, you’d feel bad for ruining his hard work. The ketchup no longer looked like a dog, but rather a splatter of red all over your plate.

“Almost four years now. I had her for a year before I met your grandparents. She adores them, so it’s no surprise that she likes you too.” He has this fond gaze in his eyes as he talks about his beloved Border Collie and it makes your heart ache.

The fact that he has such a good relationship with your grandparents seals the deal for you. Well, it would seal the deal if you were single. Yunho is like the ideal man that every parent would want their daughter to bring home. He knows how to cook, knows how to clean. He’s adept around the house, skilled in yard work and other random jobs like fixing leaky pipes and installing new appliances. He’s gentle, but doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.

Your parents would never meet him, though. After the summer was over, you’d be back in Seoul and he would still be here, a distant memory. You forcibly laugh away the thought, excusing it as your response to his words and continuing the conversation about his dog.

Perhaps this stay would be harder to get through than you thought.

As the weeks pass you by, you find yourself becoming more and more infatuated with Jeong Yunho.

Cooking breakfast for you in the morning has become a regular thing. Monitoring him at the stove with sleepy eyes and a mug of fresh coffee in your hands has ingrained itself into your routine. Yeoreum called the spot beneath your stool her own now, laying there as her owner made your food. You think the transition from seeing him as just this comforting presence, this kind individual, to wanting something more was almost too smooth.

Especially right now as you sit on the back porch sipping on some lemonade, admiring the cowboy as he transfers bales of hay from the bed of his pickup truck to the pigpen and the cattle pen. He pauses in between trips, stripping off his flannel and tying it around his waist. He lifts the hem of the white tank top he’s wearing and uses it to wipe sweat from his forehead, revealing the toned abdomen he had been hiding from you up until now.

You feel like you’re going insane, trying to pretend like you’re reading your book as you not so subtly gawk at his muscles straining with each bale he lifts. It’s crazy really, the effect he has on you doing his fucking job. You’ve made it a habit to sit out here and stare at him under the guise of various other things. Aside from being borderline obsessive, it’s horrible because you’re still very much in a relationship.

Most people would feel a hell of a lot worse than you do, like their entire world was crumbling between their fingertips just for finding someone else attractive. But for some reason, as time has continued to roll on, that guilt— that self-preservation— has faded. You’re dipping into another emotion that you’re too scared to explore.

Yunho takes a break from his labor to guzzle down a bottle of water, his chest heaving up and down from exertion. Had you been paying attention to anything other than the view of the handsome man, you would’ve noticed the glass sliding out of your grasp, the condensation becoming far too dense to keep a solid grip on the cup. In the midst of drooling over him, your lemonade falls to the ground with a loud clanging noise.

Your reflexes are only swift enough to save your book, but the drink spills everywhere else and you wince at how embarrassing the situation is. You hurry inside to grab a towel before he can see the mortification enveloping your features. He seemed like the observant type, like one scan of your face could tell him everything he needs to know without a single word exchanged. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter, blowing a raspberry while you attempt to regulate your blood pressure.

Through the window above the kitchen sink, you make out a confused Yunho, brows furrowed as he looks in the direction of the house. He worried over you entirely too much, particularly when you take into account the fact that all you did was think about him in manners not necessarily safe for work. Maybe you were just delirious. That was the only logical explanation for why you’re spiraling.

The high temperatures of the summer coupled with your surroundings are contributing to your change in behavior. Yes. That made sense. You weren’t crazy.

With a bit more reprieve, you’re able to grab a tea towel and head back outside to clean up your mess. (Not unaccompanied by a couple glances in Yunho’s direction, but that’s fine. Perfectly healthy even. It’s normal to check up on a friend. At least, that’s what you tell yourself, but who’s holding you accountable?)

“You know you’ve been making me breakfast every morning without asking for anything in return,” you speak up one morning, chin resting on the island. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

Yunho purses his lips as he hands you your plate. “Nah, I like cooking for you.”

You try to ignore the way that has your heart fluttering in your chest, try to ignore the warmth blooming beneath your skin. Your eyes glance down at your food to avoid eye contact, bringing your chopsticks up to your lips. “Okay, well I wanna do something for you.”

Despite mumbling the words, he hears you anyway and smiles to himself as he takes a sip from his mug. He rolls up the sleeves of his denim button up, reaching down to scratch behind Yeoreum’s ear, the area that you’ve learned is her favorite. She pants joyfully, jumping on his leg excitedly. He looks between the two of you.

”Missy here needs a bath,” he says, cooing at her. “I was gonna give her one later, after I cleaned out the stables, but if you don’t mind doing it.”

”I’d do just about anything for that precious girl,” you nod enthusiastically. “Consider it done.”

This is how you end up out back, dog shampoo in one hand and the water hose in the other.

Yeoreum’s signature bandana and collar lay on one of the rocking chairs on the porch, the dog looking so different without her accessories as you prepare to bathe her. You wet her fur generously, squeezing enough shampoo into your palm to lather it on. Compared to your childhood pets, she’s pretty well behaved.

She’s probably one of the only dogs who’s ever actually enjoyed taking a bath, sitting still for you while you scrub and rinse and repeat. You take your time with cleaning her, wanting to make sure you do your best as a thank you for every plate Yunho has ever made you. Usually, this isn’t something you would jump at the opportunity to do. Somehow, being back at the farm this past month or so has done everything your parents tried to do when you were younger.

It could’ve had to do with the desensitization of being here every summer for so long that it just never stuck when you were grade school age. But now, fully grown and experiencing this all over again on your own, with new faces at your side, it’s like you’re being exposed to something different. You can see why your mom and dad didn’t want the city life to become a dependency.

You preferred the view of cabs and cafés over cows and chickens in the past, but now you found a sense of familiarity in them. You’d always want to go home as soon as you got here. Unlike other kids, you wanted your summer to be over as quickly as possible. You couldn’t imagine going home after this, though. This unveiled attachment to the farm you detested when you were younger could only be accredited to one person, and it was a little frightening.

He constantly brought out parts of you that you didn’t know existed. This enigma, the one that emphasized how big of a role he’s fulfilling in the short period of time you’ve been here, drills itself into your brain every day. You knew you had to acknowledge it sooner or later, but it was just less of a hassle to act like it wasn’t screaming at you. Your fear of change was a more pertinent issue to ignore, so you let it consume all else.

While getting lost in your thoughts, Yeoreum starts shaking and startles you, causing your hold on the hose to loosen, water spraying everywhere. The diversion has you losing your footing and slipping in the mud. You shriek, though it does nothing to block the stream that drenches you, your clothes getting wet. The universe decides it’s not on your side, because you happened to wear a white shirt. Why you chose to do that when you knew you were bathing a dog, you have no clue, but it was a little too late for regrets.

Yeoreum jumps out of the basin you had her in and runs to the farmhouse just as Yunho’s walking out, fresh from the shower. You forgot that he was cleaning the stables at the same time you were giving the Border Collie her bath, but now you’re starting to wish you waited until afterward just in case you needed the assistance. And well, you definitely needed the assistance.

Plucking the tail end of the mishap, Yunho’s initial reaction is to laugh at your misfortune, but the closer he gets to the scene, the laughter dies out in his throat. Your top is sheer enough that he can map out the outline of your black bra. It leaves very little to the imagination and he thinks he might fall to his knees right here.

Since your grandparents told him that you’d be house sitting while they were away and proudly showcased a photo of you, he’s been enthralled by you. You had the face of an angel, or maybe a really enticing demon, he hasn’t cogitated it much yet.

He swallows thickly, hoping to keep his composure as he makes his way to you. His hand is a little shaky when it reaches to take the hose from you, squeezing his eyes closed and switching off the water. He stays there for a few seconds to mentally prep himself for an up-close-and-personal look at you, even going as far as holding his breath.

“Uh— you— um— you should go inside and dry off before you catch a cold,” Yunho keeps his eyes cast downward. He’s grateful that you don’t note how red the tips of his ears are, or how he thinks the sky is suddenly much more interesting than your face.

Your head cocks to the side in confusion. “What do you mean ‘before I catch a cold’? It’s, like, a million degrees out.”

“The temperature drops at night and the sun’s setting soon. I’ll handle it from here. Yeoreum ran off, so I gotta chase after her anyway and I don’t think you want her to soak you more than she already has.” He’s insistent on shooing you away and getting you inside of the house. You huff.

”Okay… If you say so…”

Reluctantly, you spin around and traverse back. The draft of the air conditioning has you shivering, rubbing up and down your arms as you enter the bathroom to inspect the damage. Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets when you finally see yourself. No wonder Yunho was so adamant on staving you off like you were the plague.

In your defense, you didn’t think the hose won the battle by that much. You assumed you’d just gotten everything above your shoulders wet, but no. You were practically doused head to toe. And the clear display of your brassiere under your clothes was the last thing on your mind.

He was stronger than you. Actually, he was a more respectful person than you. You would’ve gawked at him shamelessly if the roles were reversed. But at least you’re self aware! Right? The first step in recognizing that you have a problem, is admitting that you have a problem. That’s what you think they say in those addiction commercials, but you could be wrong.

Wow. Now you were comparing him to drugs. Though, you suppose there isn’t that huge of a difference. Both had equal success rates in terms of getting people high and then making it hard to wane off their effects.

You really had to quit it with the metaphor usage.

It’s around midnight that night when the lightbulb in the bathroom goes out, halting you from finishing your bedtime routine.

You’re exhausted to say the least, face damp from washing it and one of those fuzzy hairbands with the animal ears perched on your head. You were ready to crash out, but there were still a couple things you needed to do before that. It was proving to be a little difficult in the pitch black bathroom. The window above the shower was too narrow to provide any sufficient moonlight.

With a low grumble, you shuffle into your slippers and make the short trek from your grandparents’ house to Yunho in the farmhouse. You hug yourself when a strong breeze blows past, your flimsy t-shirt and sleep shorts doing hardly anything to block the cool summer night’s air.

A piece of you feels a little bad for bothering him so late, but you have no idea how to change a lightbulb. You don’t even know where the lightbulbs are. Besides, you think you’d electrocute yourself if you made an attempt to do it on your own.

You huff out a sigh and bring your knuckles up to knock at his door, waiting patiently for a response. He’s not asleep, you know this because he’s mentioned that his internal clock doesn’t turn off until two in the morning. Circadian rhythms were an odd concept, so to each their own.

“Yunho! It’s Y/N! Open up!”

When a few minutes have passed, you try the knob. Maybe it was a bit… too presumptuous of you to enter his home without explicit permission. Yes, you’d known each other for the better part of a month and a half, and yes, you’d gotten very close in that timeframe, but did that constitute your actions?

Whether or not the answer to that question was a yes or a no, you really wish you would’ve just waited outside. As you venture further in search of the cowboy, you stumble upon something you shouldn’t have.

Standing in the hallway on the other side of his bedroom, the door ajar at least an inch, you catch a glimpse of him on his bed. That white tank top you’re so used to seeing him in is between his teeth, eyebrows knit together in pure pleasure as he fists his cock with a purpose. His nostrils are flared and whiny moans escape from behind the fabric.

His head falls back every now and then, eyes fluttering shut when he runs his thumb over the slit. He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice you, too entranced with chasing his high. Your lips part as you watch him fuck up into his hand, his shirt slipping from his mouth when he groans out a curse.

Just as quickly as you become distracted by the sight of Yunho jerking off, you become aware of what you’re doing. You flee the scene before you get yourself caught, exiting the farmhouse as quietly as you can. The lightbulb can wait until morning, it wasn’t that important, honestly. You’re in a daze the entire walk back to your grandparents house, goosebumps littering your arms and the image of him in such an obscene state burned into your brain.

You fall backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling in hopes of willing away the path your mind is beginning to wander towards. All you can think about is the sight of him so desperate for release, large hand wrapped around his dick, abdomen contracting with need. You know you weren’t supposed to see, weren’t supposed to bear witness to something so personal.

It’s difficult to push out the nasty, inappropriate thoughts clouding your head. His expressions contorted into absolute bliss. His slender fingers could probably do so much more than your own, could probably reach places you’d never even dreamed of. And fuck, his dick, prettier and bigger than any other you’ve ever seen.

Your chest blushes with heat, an embarrassment washing over you when you realize you’re turned on. You should feel terrible for intruding on Yunho’s privacy like that, especially without him knowing, but all you can do is want him more than you already do. That craving for something deeper, carnal, fans the flame engulfing you, dragging you further into the sick and twisted hell you’ve created for yourself.

Yunho has been nothing but welcoming, kind and gentle with you, someone he didn’t even know the name of until last month. Someone who’s done everything in their power to repress this lifestyle for so long. And for some reason, it just comes so easily with him. You don’t feel forced to enjoy living on the farm. He makes you laugh and puts a smile on your face effortlessly. He has you wondering if life can actually be this simple.

But when all is said and done, there will be somebody else waiting for you back home. Somebody who doesn’t know how to whip up omurice with freshly laid eggs. Somebody who isn’t even a dog person, who thinks pets are nuisances. Somebody who doesn’t live in the farmhouse behind your grandparents’. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

If you touch yourself with tears streaming down your cheeks to the thought of the man who has eyes that resemble the night sky, well that’s between you and whatever higher being exists out there.

You sit across from Yunho with bated breath, afraid that if you opened your mouth he would know your dirty secret. You avoid his eyes for the same reason, like one good look at you would reveal what you were trying to hide.

Yunho himself was doing his best to pretend like he hadn’t masturbated to the thought of you last night. He liked to think he was good at keeping his feelings under wraps. It wasn’t like he didn’t know you were in a relationship, he’s heard you on the phone before. He stays silent as he fries rice in a pan and has some bread in the toaster. The only sounds in the kitchen are sizzling and the pants coming from Yeoreum under your stool.

In the time that you’ve been here, never once has it been awkward between you like this. The conversation usually doesn’t stop flowing, rolling on and on and filtering into things that don’t pertain to the original subject. He rarely has his back to you for too long, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a grin every here and now.

Both of you go to speak at the same time as a means of salvaging the morning from eternal strain. You stare at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Truly, you were two birds of a feather, or however that saying goes.

”Sorry, I don’t know why I’m being so quiet today,” Yunho says, though he knows it’s a lie. “I guess I had a long night.”

”Oh, that reminds me,” his mention of the previous night has you recalling the reason you went out to the farmhouse in the first place. “The light in my bathroom went out, do you think you can fix it for me?”

“Yeah, for sure,” he begins preparing your plate. “Actually, I have this joke about lightbulbs. You wanna hear it?”

Your lips curl into a smile, already attempting to hold back your laughter. With a raised eyebrow, you respond, “What is it?”

”What did the lightbulb say to the light switch?” He asks nonchalantly, taking a bite from his own piece of toast. You’re failing miserably at acting like you don’t think the joke is funny, although he hasn’t even told you the punchline yet.

”I dunno, Yunho, what did the lightbulb say to the light switch?”

“‘You turn me on.’”

There’s a pregnant pause as the joke resonates and you can’t stop yourself from cackling at how stupid it is. He joins in, but mostly because your laughter is contagious. His chest swells with pride at his successful landing, feeling like he’s on top of the world just for bringing a smile to your face. God, he was down tremendously bad.

Your spoon clatters onto the counter as you lean over, a hand clapped over your mouth as your boisterous laughing simmers into a giggle. Yunho leans into you slightly, matching your energy as he munches on his toast. This is what has you conflicted, so at war with yourself. The proximity should have you pulling away, but something about him always reels you in, despite the consequences that await.

And unfortunately, those consequences come to a head today.

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N?”

You and Yunho jump back, whipping towards the source of the voice. Seojun stands there, his bags at his feet and his face crestfallen, disbelief written all over it. He shakes his head and turns to leave, you stumbling off of the barstool to follow behind him. The guilt you’ve only ever felt momentarily settles deep in your chest and deep in your stomach, though you technically haven’t done anything wrong.

Your abruptness startles Yeoreum and she’s up in a heartbeat, tailing behind you curiously. Yunho has to rush to stop her, but a part of himself wants to do the same. No matter how much he likes you, he’s never wanted to be the cause of your relationship falling apart. He wanted you organically, not like this.

”Seojun! Wait!” You call after him, holding up a hand to block out the harsh sunlight, tripping over your slippers. He scoffs.

“What am I waiting for? You to spew some bullshit about how nothing’s going on between the two of you? I’m not fucking stupid, Y/N. I’m not blind.” He pops open his trunk and throws his bags in haphazardly.

”You’re being unreasonable,” you exclaim, rounding the car so you’re directly in front of him. “There is nothing going on. We’ve just gotten to know each other since we live in the same vicinity. Did you want me to stay here for three months and hole myself away with no other human contact?”

“He was just supposed to be the guy who lived in the farmhouse. He wasn’t supposed to bother you. That’s what you told me, remember?” Seojun is losing his patience, something that has always been the root of the problem when you’ve gotten into past arguments. “How do you expect me to react when I come to surprise you and see you being so close to another man?”

“I was laughing at a joke he told me. You’re making this a bigger deal than it is and blowing everything completely out of proportion. I’m sorry that it never came up that we became friends, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve never once cheated on you in the three years we’ve been together and for you to accuse me of that is so fucking low of you.” You’re not going to cry, not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s won. He thrives off of seeing your vulnerability and you won’t let him have it.

“I saw the way he was looking at you,” he seethes, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “I know that look because that’s how I used to look at you.”

A laugh devoid of any humor leaves you and he blinks. “That’s how you ‘used to’ look at me? When did you stop? And why am I just finding this out?”

”That’s not— that isn’t what I meant, Y/N—“

”No, Seojun. You did,” you glance away from him, nipping at the inside of your cheek. “We’re grasping for straws. We aren’t going anywhere anymore and we haven’t for a while now. That’s why we're standing here arguing over this. I just want to know why you didn’t just tell me.”

”I’m too complacent,” he sighs, breathing through his nose. “I was too comfortable with you and I didn’t know how to let you go or walk away. But you’re right, there isn’t anything for us to save, and it seems like we’re both ready to move on.”

“What does that mean?”

“I saw how you were looking at him, too. You might not have acted on it, but you have feelings for him. I’m not gonna stay and hold you back.” Seojun unlocks his car, opening the door. “And for what it’s worth, you won’t be wasting your time.”

You don’t respond, instead humming and letting him drive off. Once his car is far enough out of your view, you go back into the house. There’s an indescribable emotion that hostages you, binding your wrists and tying you down metaphorically. You can’t seem to shake it.

Yunho is still in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with Yeoreum to keep her calm. He gazes up at you expectantly and you feel the tears you were suppressing from Seojun bubbling up. If you weren’t going to cry in front of your (now ex) boyfriend, you definitely weren’t going to cry in front of him.

With a trembling exhale, you force yourself to say, “I need to be alone.”

He understands empathetically, clipping on Yeoreum’s leash and leaving the house in the same breath. That in itself has you crying like a baby the moment you’re all by yourself. You hold your face in your hands, body shuddering with each sob you release.

I saw the way he was looking at you.

I saw how you were looking at him, too.

You had a lot to think about, and everything always seemed to circle back to Jeong Yunho.

A couple days escape you before you register you haven’t seen much of Yunho. After your breakup with Seojun, you really did need a bit of room to process it all, but you hadn’t realized just how much you depended on the cowboy’s presence until you were missing it.

You hadn’t meant to push him away, if that’s how he saw it. A night of bawling your eyes out with a pint of ice cream and The Vow was enough to cure you. However, it appears that he thought you needed more, going as far as putting a pin in your daily breakfast ritual. You aren’t sure how to extend an olive branch when you weren’t even trying to cause a rift between you in the first place.

Being with someone for three years may not seem like a lot, but that fraction of your life is stuck with you, like a thumbtack that refuses to come out of the wall. You’d had boyfriends before Seojun, but they weren’t nearly as serious. There weren't formal introductions between parents, no late night conversations that bleed into early mornings, no sleepovers and quick kisses before work.

Of course, after a certain point, those had just become habitual. You weren’t doing them because they evoked a sense of love or care anymore, but rather because you were familiar with them. It was safer to continue the pattern of waking up and falling asleep to Seojun on the other side of the bed, the intrusion of sunlight and the cacophony of traffic outside your window, even if you didn’t really want to.

And then you came here.

Somehow, returning to your grandparents’ farm was exactly what you needed to break through that cycle. As much as you would love to attest it to your location and discovering the appreciation your family wanted you to feel for it, you know the real reason. It’s all thanks to a certain cowboy.

Yunho’s feelings for you run far deeper than he could’ve imagined. He doesn’t know the extent of what happened with you and Seojun, but he thinks putting distance between you is better in the long run anyway. On the off chance you’re still together, he wants to preserve his heart. He’s handed it to someone else too easily in the past and he doesn’t want to make that mistake with you if you don’t feel the same.

But even on the off chance that you’ve broken up, he still wants to stop himself from falling further and harder than he already has. Without ill will, he doubts that you would give up the life you have in the city for this, for him. He’ll be perpetually chained to being a faint imprint on your memory of the summer. You’ll think back to the months you spent here and he’ll have played only a minor role.

It was wishful thinking, too hopeful of him to presume this would lead to a happy ending. You were from different worlds, led different lives. It was time for him to be realistic. And that meant implementing the space that was supposed to exist between you from the get go.

Though, you make it difficult when he bumps into you on the way back from the mailbox. Déjà vu, anyone?

Yeoreum is excited to see you, jumping onto her haunches to lick your face when you kneel to her level. You giggle, squeezing one eye shut as you balance yourself and hold her still so her weight doesn’t clamber you both onto the ground. Your fingers pet to top of her head softly as you coo, “Who’s a good girl?”

Yunho physically winces when his chest tightens at the sight of his two favorite girls. The word ‘distance’ bounces around his head like a pinball, reminding him what he’s supposed to be doing. He just can’t bring himself to walk away. Especially when you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

“Hey…” You start, steeling your tone to ensure it’s even. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you or something. I needed some time to myself to figure things out. It wasn’t my intention to shut you out and put you on the back burner.”

”No, it’s okay. I had to figure stuff out on my own, too,” he uses his bandana to dab at the sweat perspiring on his forehead. “Did you sort through whatever you needed to?”

“I did,” you nod, standing upright. “Seojun and I broke up, so I had to sit with my feelings for a bit. We’ve been together for so long, I think I needed to remember what it was like to be without him, and then I realized that’s basically what I’ve been doing since I came here.”

”Oh.” Yunho’s lips form an ‘O’ shape, hands dragging down the sides of his pants. “I’m sorry— um— about your breakup.”

”Don’t be,” you smile, dismissing his sympathy. “It was a long time coming, honestly. We weren’t really in the relationship wholeheartedly anymore. There wasn’t a point in stringing it along, you know? But that’s enough about me, did you figure your own things out?”

”I thought I did,” he says, which is true considering he’d been mulling over what to do with his emotions subsequent to your argument with your ex. “And then I kinda steered off course. It’s alright, though, I think I like the new conclusion I’ve come to a lot better.”

You might be on the same page now, but there was an entire discussion that had to happen to solidify that. Following a very emotionally charged past couple days, you could do without that today. You’re both just glad that the air is cleared and you can resume building the bond that began forming the moment you stepped foot onto the farm, no restrictions whatsoever.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?”

You glance up from your book, this time genuinely reading it as Yunho fed the chickens and cleaned up their coop. He towers over you while he asks the question, his shadow thwarting off any direct sunlight. Your nose scrunches.

“When I was in, like, middle school? It’s been a minute,” you answer, making sure to bookmark the page you stopped at. “Why?

”Would you let me teach you how to do it again?” He nips at his lower lip, like he’s nervous you’ll say no. The truth of the matter is you’d say yes even if he asked you to commit arson, which is kind of a problem.

“That sounds fun,” you shrug. “What time should I be ready?”

”Uh, now?”

Okay, so sitting on a horse did not seem this scary when you were twelve.

It probably had to do with you being fearless and whatnot, but also because you did whatever your grandparents asked just to appease them. The faster you got off the damn horse, the faster you could go back inside and situate yourself in front of the TV. They thought they were making progress with you, but really you were outsmarting the outsmarters.

Sweat glazes on the underside of your hands, disrupting the security of your grasp on the reins. Yunho thought it would be wiser if he stayed on foot, guiding you and the horse around the perimeter of the pen. You hoped you didn’t look as afraid as you were, but you’re certain the slight quiver of your bottom lip gives it away.

“You’re doing fine, Y/N,” he reassures, maintaining a comforting amount of eye contact with you.

”Am I? Or does it just seem that way because you’re pulling the horse?” You quip, gripping the reins tighter when it steps over a rock and you sway a little. Your tone is laced with sarcasm, something Yunho hasn’t heard much of from you since you’ve met, but he thinks it’s cute that you resort to violence when you’re scared.

You notice the quirk of his mouth and how he’s trying not to laugh at your terror. It pisses you off solely because his humor isn’t unwarranted. You are being a bit over dramatic. He unties his bandana from around his neck and tosses it to you. “So you don’t callus your hands.”

He’s too thoughtful, too considerate for his own good, but that’s what roped you in. Even when you met for the first time, he had you figured out. The longer you stare at him, the more you realize just how perfect he is. If you were still in school and you were tasked with writing an essay about the summer you spent here, you’re sure the words would flow onto the pages flawlessly, without skipping a beat. Your prose would be so beautifully written, that even the most notable authors would be envious of your experience.

The only downside of this was the fact that time was beginning to seep through your fingers. There was mutuality in your feelings for each other, that was almost unequivocal. You were both just hesitant in taking that first leap. The uncertainty lied with that goodbye at the end of August, the one that’ll hurt a lot more than it was supposed to. But you know that postponing your unceremonious declaration of feelings would just do more harm than anything else.

One consistency you’ve singled out since coming back to the farm is this common theme of divine intervention, or fate, whatever you want to call it. Right when you’re on the brink of an epiphany, you’re always forcefully shoved into it, like a freight train crashing into its platform traveling at full speed. This moment is no different.

Yeoreum barking at a squirrel on the other side of the pen scares the horse who’s back you were currently on. It bucks up and you release the reins in alarm. You fall quickly, but Yunho’s quicker, catching you in his arms like it’s been a childhood dream of his to be a superhero. He searches your face for any indication that you might be hurt, a hand coming up to cup your cheek.

The eyes you’ve grown to adore examine your own with so much care that you find yourself melting in his hold. Your face instinctively leans into his palm, fingers still clutching the fabric of his shirt like he may drop you.

It’s nearly second-nature to minimize the gap between you.

You never understood what novelists meant when they described kissing scenes. And you think that’s because you’d never truly had a kiss like this before. It was as if they were all talking about this second, this blip in time. The sparks that shoot from where your lips meet to the tips of your fingers, the thump-thump-thump of your heartbeat in your ears, the sensation of never wanting to escape, never wanting to stop.

Yunho’s hand snakes behind your head, tangling in your hair to deepen the connection. It’s hungry. It’s desperate. It’s too much. It’s not enough. Everything that had been stacking on top of each other was leading to this, the collision that rivaled the Big Bang. You whine into his lips, an invitation but also an inquiry.

He parts from you just so he can catch his breath, his forehead resting on yours. “Can I take you inside?”

You nod fervently. “Yes. Please.”

He wastes no time hauling you to the farmhouse. His grip on your wrist is gentle as he pulls you into his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and trapping you between his legs. Your restraint wears thin, nimble fingers fumbling with the rest of the buttons on his denim shirt. You push it off of his shoulders, a bit shell shocked when you discover that he’s wearing a regular t-shirt as opposed to his usual tank top.

“You would pull something like this today of all days,” you laugh breathily, untucking the shirt from his pants. He reciprocates the sentiment, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck while you undress him.

“Is it evil of me to say I was sorta hoping this would happen?” He speaks into your exposed collarbone, nipping, sucking, biting the skin. Your appreciative sigh goads him, his tongue gliding across the abused surface as a form of relief.

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head, fast to yank off his shirt and run your nails down his abdomen. “I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

“Yeah?” Yunho flips the two of you easily so you’re the one on the bed now. He pushes up the hem of your shirt, pecking your stomach to your clavicle as he shows more and more of your skin until the fabric is removed from your body. “Can’t believe I finally get to have you.”

You involuntarily moan, completely untouched and because of his words alone. Every part of you feels like it’s lit ablaze, burning with want and need and everything in between. This ran further than just what-ifs and late night fantasies. Your relationship with Yunho tiptoed on the edge of something you’ve never known before, and that makes this so much more special.

He glances up at you when his fingers reach for the button of your shorts, a silent ask for permission. You give him the green light and hold yourself up on your elbows, watching with your breathing trapped in your throat as he rids of your panties along with them. His hands push your knees to your chest, kissing your inner thighs and right around the place you need him most, but never there.

“Yunho…” You warn, but it comes across as a broken whimper rather than an establishment of authority. He laughs and then his lips are pressing to your clit, a sweet kiss that has all rationality taking a vacation from your brain. Your head tips back and you fist at the sheets.

He drags his tongue through your folds, swirling it around the sensitive bundle of nerves each time it makes its return. It’s almost criminal how good it feels to have his mouth on your cunt, eyes already heavy lidded with pleasure. He sucks on your clit at the same time he decides to insert a finger into your entrance, curling it experimentally just because he can. Like you predicted, it reaches that spongy spot at the crook of your pussy, brushing it once he’s sure he’s found it.

While you walked in on him fucking his fist, the only thing on his mind was you. He was so absorbed in the mental image of what you would look like beneath him, wiggling, writhing, squirming with indulgence. His social awareness was at a zero. This replayed over and over until he came, his thoughts so vivid he could’ve swore it was real.

But this, the actual thing, was so much better; his forearm pinning your hips down, his middle finger curling and uncurling inside of you, his mouth working overtime to inch you towards the edge of that steep cliff. He moans when your eyebrows practically coalesce, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. You look so gorgeous like this, so disoriented all because of the bliss he was providing. The vibrations of the sound have you arching your back, uncontrollable whines running from your mouth.

“Feel good?” Yunho asks, disconnecting his mouth and replacing it with his other hand, ring and middle digits swiping across your clit with practiced pressure.

“Mhm,” you nod frantically, eyes on the brink of rolling to the back of your head. “Feels so good, Yun… Just like that, ‘m almost there.”

That’s all he needs to hear, switching his hand and mouth once again, focusing on alternating harsh and gentle sucks of your clit, adding a second finger to pump in and out of your hole. The doubled change in stimulation knocks the wind out of you, the precipice of your orgasm so close you can taste it. You’d never been brought to the summit this early in the past, and you think Yunho deserves some sort of reward for being the first to do so.

You’d worry about that later though, because you’re blindsided by it before you can even conjure your next thought. You cum with a cry, tears springing to your eyes from the immense amount of ecstasy coursing through your veins, swimming in your bloodstream. Yunho coos at you, not stopping until you’ve relaxed in his hold. “That’s it, baby, you’re doing so well.”

The praise makes your head feel airy, like empty space unoccupied by anything. If you paid attention in chemistry, then you’d know that’s highly impossible, but you didn’t. The only chemistry you even remotely care about is the one between you and Yunho, the tension that has piled higher and higher for days on end until its crescendo now.

You sit up to kiss him roughly, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips. He smiles into it, a hand raising to caress the underside of your jaw. He climbs onto the bed, scooting you up so you’re positioned by the pillows. It doesn’t take much effort for your bodies to swap, his back to the headboard. You clumsily seat yourself on his lap, a knee on either side of him and sighing wistfully when his mouth trails down your throat and sternum, slender fingers sneaking behind you to unclasp your bra.

He aids you in removing his pants, still simultaneously prioritizing kisses all over your bare chest. When you’re both fully naked, you take your time admiring his cock. It’s just as pretty as you remember, long and thick. Your hand wraps around it gingerly, stroking the length as you lean down to kiss him again. You don’t think you could ever get enough of his lips on your own.

“I’m not exactly getting any action over here, so I don’t have any condoms,” he says into your kiss, voice no louder than a whisper.

“That’s okay,” you run your fingers through his hair. “Wanna feel you anyways, all of you.”

”Fuck, Y/N, you can kill a man with those words.” He groans, nails digging into your hips. You giggle, but it’s interrupted by him sitting you fully, his dick slipping through your lower lips. A whine brushes his ear when the tip catches your clit, repeating the movement until you can’t stay still.

The closest you’ll ever get to Heaven on earth is Yunho’s cock pushing inside of you, filling you up so deliciously you think you could die like this. Your jaw slackens, hands coming up to support yourself on his shoulders. Even if this is a one time thing, something that never happens again during your stay at the farm, he wants you to remember this when you go back home. He wants you to recall this sliver in your timeline and never forget it, wants his name engraved in your memory like a branding iron.

Once he feels you’ve adjusted to him well enough, he pulls you off of him almost entirely, just to ram back in without mercy. He punches a voluminous moan from you, eyes watching where he disappears in you and reemerges. You’re tighter and so much warmer than he dreamed you’d be, but it’s perfect. You suck him in like a vacuum, as if his cock was made to be inside of you, as if you didn’t want him to part from you.

“You’re s-so deep, Yun,” you mewl, pulling him in for another headache-inducing kiss. “Don’t wanna stop.”

He exhales through his nostrils, mumbling out a curse when your walls squeeze around him. He wanted to last a while for you, wanted to hold out and prolong this moment until you were both on the crest of passing out. But you feel like a glove, your silk-adjacent cunt begging for more and more.

“Think I might cum soon, princess,” he groans, tossing his head back and just about losing every ounce of his sanity when your lips start marking the column of his throat.

His big hands move under your thighs, holding you in place so he can fuck up into you. The pace at which his cock drills in and out of your pussy has you seeing stars, eyes snapping shut and nothing but colorful spots decorating your vision. You were already abhorrently sensitive following your first orgasm, so it didn’t really take much to introduce the second.

Your hips stutter and it washes over you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering and collapsing into his top half. He pulls out of you quickly, mouth stationed by your ear as he jerks himself off until he’s painting your backside. He moans, a lot like the sounds he was making the other night, and you feel the need to just kiss him again.

Your lips lock sweetly, a stark contrast to your previous actions. Yunho curves a hand on your cheek, seperating from you the smallest distance so he can admire you. The smile that etches onto his expression makes you dizzier than anything else. However, the cutesiness can only span so long before the setting gives way.

Yunho’s hand snakes in between you, his forefinger sliding up and down your slit teasingly. Your breath comes out shaky, your face finding purchase in the crook of his neck. He replaces the digit with his middle finger, parting your pussy lips in search of your clit. It doesn’t take him very long to find it, rubbing tight circles into the engorged skin. You moan into his shoulder, resting your forehead on it to see the way he works your cunt.

“You’re so wet, baby. Have I not fucked you enough?” He whispers into your ear huskily. Yunho talking dirty to you is something you didn’t know you needed in your life. His finger slips downward, thrusting up into your hole with ease. He keeps massaging your clit with his palm, the stimulation making your head woozy.

“Mmmph— Yun, god. Feels too good.” You whine, gyrating your hips on his hand.

“Is that right, babe?” He encourages, adding a second finger and increasing the speed of their thrusts, almost like you hadn’t been in this position already. “I can’t wait to feel this tight little pussy around my cock again. Gonna fuck you harder than the last.”

Your whimpers raise in volume, focusing on the way he curls his digits in you, applying pressure with the heel of his palm to the circles he’s rubbing into your clit. You can sense your third orgasm approaching, warmth flooding your cheeks at how embarrassingly fast he worked you back up. Your walls clench around his fingers, alerting him of how close you are. He pauses, worming his body down so his face is eye level with your cunt again.

Yunho does the whole teasing thing a second time, kissing and suckling the hot skin of your belly, knowingly denying you of your release. You grab a handful of his hair, tugging at the ends to spur him on. He groans, giving into you and licking a straight line up your slit. He inserts both fingers again, this time using his tongue to manipulate your swollen clit.

The heat of Yunho’s mouth makes your insides ache, the necessity to cum intensifying. You keen loudly, desperately, needily, the sight of the brunette between your legs so incredibly arousing. He sucks on your throbbing clit, his long fingers as deep as they can go, and you crumble.

“Oh my god— oh my god— I’m cumming! I’m—” You cut yourself off, convulsing under him. He laps up as much of your juices as he can, coating his chin with your release. You moan as you pull him towards you to unify your lips, a mixture of your saliva and cum connect your mouths in strings. At this point, the sex is messier than anything you could’ve plucked from your wildest dreams.

One hand trails down your body, using your nimble fingers to play with your sensitive clit when he starts fisting his cock in preparation to enter your pussy again. You use your free hand to scratch at his contracting abs. He hisses, propping himself up with one arm next to your head and his eyes trained on the way you finger yourself at the same time. You can feel his breath on your cheeks and being in this proximity to him fuels your yearning.

“Please, Yun… Need you back inside of me,” you whimper. Rubbing your clit with your own fingers isn’t satisfying enough, not with him here in front of you, not when you know how good he can make you feel.

“Fuck, baby, when you beg like that I don’t know if I can hold back.” He chuckles lowly. It rumbles from his chest, shooting to your core.

“So don’t,” you rouse. “This is more than just a one time thing for me, Yunho.”

His eyes widen just a bit, your confession catching him off guard. That’s all he needs to line himself up with your hole, hooking his forearm under your knee as he slides in, stretching your cunt so perfectly with his perfect cock. “Shit— you’re so tight, princess… It’s almost like I didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life.” He moans and spreads your legs wider. He bottoms out with a grunt, throwing his head back from the feeling of your velvety walls. A near deafening cry is ripped from your vocal cords. He nips at your neck, starting to piston his hips.

His thrusts don’t slow but become calculated, speeding up and diving deep simultaneously. It only took a short amount of time to figure out what you liked and he used it to his advantage. Yunho hikes your knee to your chest, groping your tits with his free hand. He twists and tugs at your nipples just hard enough that it contributes to your pleasure rather than hurts you.

It’s as if he doesn’t feel buried inside of you sufficiently, because he decreases his pace to press and fold your other leg up, his hips ramming into your ass with each thrust now. The tip of his cock kisses at what feels like your cervix. That familiar coil begins to fasten again, keening with every drive into your cunt. The squelching noises would’ve made you cower in shame with anyone else, but with Yunho it turns you on further.

You moan, and he flattens his hand on the lower part of your stomach. Yunho groans, biting the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. Your fingers find your clit again, circling insatiably to get yourself off.

“You gonna cum for me again?” He rasps, his hold on your legs almost painful. The backs of your thighs burn, but you endure it for the sake of the moment. You reach up and behind yourself, grabbing at the headboard in an attempt to match his force.

“Oh my god, yes— yes yes yes yes,” you babble, the syllables blurring together like your mind. “Gonna cum so hard for you, Yunho. Keep going, please.”

His lips attach to yours, tongues tangling sloppily. The position you’re in is on the opposite end of the spectrum from how you were expecting this summer reunion to go. Had you not been made aware of Yunho living here at the last minute, you probably would’ve backed out of your commitment to staying. Deep down you’re a little too thankful that your grandmother mentioned him when it was too late to reconsider.

“I think I’m in love with you, Y/N,” Yunho whispers into your mouth.

You let go of the headboard, cupping his jaw and kissing him lovingly. “Me too.”

Your fingers speed up and so do his thrusts, perfectly timed with each other to shove you both towards your highs. You’re on the cusp of falling apart, arching into him to close the gap between your bodies.

“Wanna cum inside you. Can I?” Yunho grunts.

“Yes yes, please. Fill me up, Yun, want all of you.”

He continues to abuse your cunt, pounding into you like his life depended on it. You sob, clamping your walls around him. He freezes, suddenly spilling into you. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock.” The warmth of his release and his words coax your orgasm, the fluttering of your cunt milking every single drop from him that it can. Even with his dick plugging you up, you can feel it dripping out of you and onto the sheets below.

He rocks into you languidly until you’ve calmed down enough for him to pull out. His forehead is flush on your chest, rising and falling with it, both of you so spent from the intense physical activity you engaged in. You stare up at the ceiling with heavy eyelids, carding your fingers through his hair to soothe him.

“You meant what you said right? About this not being a one time thing.” Yunho says hesitantly, like he’s afraid of permeating the atmosphere you created.

“I don’t think I can go home at the end of the summer and forget the way I feel for you, Yunho.” You admit out loud. There had been a constant struggle in your head over whether or not to follow your heart, but as he looks at you with those sparkly eyes of his, you know your answer. And you feel a little stupid for ever considering the counter.

“And what exactly are those feelings?” He pushes, folding his hands on your sternum and laying his cheek on top. You giggle, brushing his hair out of his view. As tempting as it was to divulge your theatrical journey in assessing your emotions, you’re too exhausted to stay awake. It would have to wait for another day.

“You have the rest of the summer to find out, cowboy.”

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez jeong yunho #ateez yunho #ateez yunho x reader #ateez yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho smut #yunhoszn

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leclsrc · 1 year ago

Text

do you want it? ✴︎ cs55

genre: summer love!!!, slight age gap, porn w plot basically...

word count: 10.5k

Whatever preconceived notions you have about your summer at the beach house are all toppled over when your parents announce the arrival of a guest, who happens to be your dad's friend. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by several people! few notes... carlos is aged up a tad, the age gap is 21/33 so not too bad (i aged him up bc the age gap was 7 yrs and i was like. Huh. thats tame). if ur not into that (tho everything is consensual and reader is legal) its ok! anyway im sorry this came so late i had like 6 anons asking ab carlos and lana haha. also big thanks to dani whose work got me thru 4 writing ruts

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, dry humping, oral sex (m and f receiving), deepthroating, semi public sex ish?, praise central, size kink, like a flash of spit kink sorry..., overuse of the term good girl

Half past noon and after a particularly snappy call from his manager, Carlos bites the bullet on summer plans and decides to accept what is arguably the least glamorous offer on his roster. By no means a dazzling standout, the offer to stay at a family friend’s house in Comporta seems to be the most comfortable option—besides, he doesn’t feel himself to be in the glitzy mood for cities like Los Angeles or Monaco.

Lando, beside him, is thus the first to get wind of the news that “grumpy old man” Carlos will not be accompanying him to the ultimate, tequila-flavored “summer extravaganza” in Morocco.

“You’re boring,” Lando moans, pacing the room. Outside, London’s skyline moves passively. Carlos hangs up his phone call with his assistant, receives a picture of his flight details, and looks up amusedly.

“Portugal is not boring.”

“Morocco. DJs, drinks, girls.” Lando raises one hand. “Comporta. Family friends, apple cider, sand in your eyes.” He raises another hand a few inches lower. “See the difference?”

“I appreciate the difference.” Truth is, Carlos has needed this kind of quiet, calm time off for a while now. The season gets heavy and intense and tiring, and sometimes just staying by the beach with a beer is the best kind of reprieve.

“You’re getting old,” Lando says with a sour grimace. “Old.”

“That is,” Carlos says, searching for the word, “defamation.”

Lando shrugs, moves off the subject as he shoves a handful of crisps into his mouth. “Are you meeting family there?”

“No.” Both of his parents are out of the country for the next few weeks; Carlos was invited by his dad’s friend, though the bond they share is more friendly than just the standard uncle-nephew type of relationship, and they often refer to each other as just friends. “Just friends. Gallery owner and a company owner, I think.”

Lando whistles. “Rich.”

In response, Carlos nods. “And their daughter, who’s visiting from university in the States.” The details are fuzzy in his head, but the gist is about right.

“Sounds boring,” his friend snorts. “Come on, mate. You, me, Daniel. One last chance to watch Peggy Gou’s set and take shots and have fuuun.” He says the last part with the suave that would only rival a preteen’s.

Carlos, for a second, lets his resolve waver. Maybe it would be better watching loud DJ sets, dancing, getting all flushed with alcohol. But he blinks and shakes his head anyway. He hopes his decision is the right one, that summer in the beach house ends up being worth it. It’s a few weeks by the beach, anyway—what’s the worst that could happen?

—

Any recollection of your childhood almost instantly connects to the beach house in Comporta, big and wide and right by the coast. You spent fall, winter, and spring in a constant bumbling state of excitement to spend summer there. Your parents owned it, and often offered family friends to take up residence there when summers in the city got unbearable; for the most part, though, it was the three of you and, on rare years, a guest.

Your summers there have since smudged into the same few memories, of your mum and dad’s faces, of swimming and the learning curve of sailing, of bonfires by the beach on cold nights. And they have since become just that: memories. Summers grew sparse with time, and eventually the idea of meeting distant family friends became more embarrassing than exciting; by the time your parents moved you out of Europe for college, you’d lost almost all memory of the house.

So when your parents ask if you want to fly back to Comporta and spend a few “quiet” weeks there, you figure there’s no harm in seeing what the house is like and what summer can offer you beyond the weekly club outings. Instead of the usual quiet and overall lack-of-bustle that comes with summers, however, you open the front door to three housekeepers dusting every surface in your immediate eyesight.

“Are we hosting a wedding?” You ask when you find your parents tending to two sweaty glasses of champagne. You gesture faintly to the cleanfest inside. “What is going on?”

“We have a guest,” your mother says as she gets up to hug you tight. “Staying for the summer.”

“You said this summer would be quiet,” you deadpan, eyes narrowing underneath your sunglasses.

Your mum pinches your elbow. “I wasn’t lying,” she defends, raising her eyebrows. “Carlos’ son is coming.” She pats your arm. “You know? The race driver! He’s close with your father.” And, leaving no space for you to voice your dissent, she slips back into the house through the screen door, your father kissing your cheek then following suit. Your mouth parts, thoughts beginning to rush with implications of what your mother has just told you.

Carlos—if you’re correct—is Carlos Sainz, Sr., a good friend of your dad’s, and his son is Carlos Sainz, Jr., another good friend of your dad’s, because if there’s one thing rich Europeans do well, it’s the repetition of names. You’ve never met his son, only heard of him and seen a few pictures, but being so far detached from life here, you can’t even shape his face.

All you recall is the fact that he should now be thirty or older, which makes him rather older than you—and therefore effectively incapable of providing any break from any possible summer boredom. For fuck’s sake, he’s close to your dad. You’re at the top of the stairs when you hear the commotion by the front door, peeking at the foyer to catch a glimpse of him.

He’s solo, you observe; upon a glance into the front parking, you notice he’s driven here in a Ferrari, one a bit too modern for your taste but beautiful nevertheless. He carries only two pieces of luggage, and the sun blinds you for a moment before he’s finally at the doorframe, smiling politely, talking to your dad in casual Spanish.

He is, for lack of better word, insanely handsome. He wears a polo that shows off much of his arms, that flex as he puts down his luggage to shake hands with your parents; you follow the movement of his hands to watch one comb through his thick hair, then down to his smile, back up to his brown eyes, deep and so, so pretty.

Maybe this summer deserves a little less begrudge, you decide as you retreat back into your room, still brewing with residual annoyance.

Your parents send him off after a drink and a brief conversation, catch-up, tour of the downstairs area. Carlos knows his room is supposed to be upstairs, but the problem arises in the fact that there are two upstairs rooms and he doesn’t know which one he’s supposed to be staying in. Setting his luggage down for a minute, he knocks on the first door; permissive silence greets him for half a minute, so he turns the knob and prepares to enter.

To his surprise, he finds somebody already inside, a figure by the mirror on the other end of the room. What catches his eye is not the tiny skirt, but the half-tied bikini top currently being wound around two fingers at the centre of your back. You’re basically clothed, but Carlos can’t decide if he’s thankful or not—he doesn’t have time to when you catch him in the mirror and turn around quick, mouth agape.

“Can’t you knock?!” You ask, catty.

“I did—I knocked, but you—there was no answer,” he explains profusely. “I’m Carlos. Sorry, apologies. Truly.”

You introduce yourself. You’re his friend’s daughter, this and that, and you’re visiting from the States to spend summer here. He apologizes again when you finish.

“Well, seeing as though this is my room,” you shoot back, “that must be yours.” You gesture vaguely to the one down the hall. Amused and a little embarrassed, he mouths apologies as he closes the door.

Carlos exits, departs and doesn’t have time to take in the room before he’s facedown on the bed. Any sleepiness he’d collected from the trip over, from the day drinks, from the headache that’d been blooming at the temples of his head, has dissipated. His mind’s been imprinted with one image only, and it’s down the hall in a tiny skirt.

—

Lunch brings lemonade and pasta, two staples for every summer meal. You, however, find yourself hopelessly distracted by the presence of your guest, and despite your best efforts, the churn in your stomach disables you from fully enjoying the carbonara on the table. The conversation between Carlos and your dad ends up taking your attention instead. “So you’re racing again in a few weeks?”

“Sí,” Carlos nods in-between forkfuls. Then, to add, “Busy, busy times.”

“Well. It’s the worst of our days,” your mum says, a quote she picked up from—of all places—a BBC sitcom she watched to tears last winter. “You are a talented driver, Carlos. Very cultured. I’m sure you’ll enjoy Comporta.”

“I have not been around much,” he says; his gaze flutters over to his glass, which is devoid of water or lemonade. “Any recommendations?”

“A lot, cabrón. Our daughter will be happy to take you around,” your father says on your behalf. He turns to you. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, sure,” you say, allowing a terse smile. “There’s some places around here that aren’t so boring. But that’s being generous.” Carlos laughs at your joke, raucous and goofy, and you would definitely be lying if you told yourself it didn’t get you blushing a little bit, eyes casting themselves to your still-full plate.

“While you’re here, Carlos,” your dad continues, “I have an old car in the garage that could use some looking at. Are you—would you know how to—?”

Carlos nods, accepting the favor—then the conversation naturally slides into one of cars and racing. Carlos chronicles his journey in Formula One, his Toro Rosso days back then when he was younger, his McLaren period, and now, his time representing Ferrari. He talks of pet peeves on the grid, annoyances but also praises for the sport.

“I’d appreciate the downtime, actually,” he explains, “that I’d get from working on a car instead of in one.” He laughs, eyes briefly meeting yours. He looks away, then looks again. He can’t help himself. He wonders if he’s being obvious, if you can tell the way his looks are anything but casual. “Can you pour me a glass?” He adds.

“Yeah,” you mutter, sitting straight to pour lemonade into his waiting glass. You meet his eyes and almost pour it over the pasta. The rest of the lunch is uneventful, a series of adult conversation you can’t seem to engage yourself in fully, and whether that’s because of personal preference or Carlos’ presence, you don’t make an effort to try.

“…ney. Honey.” Your mum’s voice distracts you from your thoughts; when you look up, half the table is clear and Carlos and your dad have ventured inside to deposit plates at the sink.

“Sorry. Wh—sorry, what?” You blink.

“Your father and I are heading out for the evening. Carlos will be working on the car. That okay, or you want to come along?”

“Um…” You pretend the latter is even an option before shaking your head. “No, I’ll stay.”

“Good.” She strokes your hair. “He could use the company.”

You follow her walking figure inside, where you station your eyes on Carlos. He’s sipping a lemonade. His eyes meet yours for a second and your face is outrageously flushed when you realize you’ve been caught staring, just like his had been earlier when he walked into your room.

—

You’re hellbent on solving a Sudoku puzzle when the dinner bell rings, and you have to finish it on the stairs. Your dad’s always been a stickler for arriving to dinner on time—every meal, but a gargantuan emphasis on the last—and you’ve been victim to scoldings about being five to six minutes late, an instance you don't wish to repeat.

9, you scribble, bare feet moving with speed through the living room, indoor dining room, then to the patio door. 4 comes next, your footsteps following the smell of grilled meat. 8, you write as you turn into the outdoor dining area. You’re halfway through 2 when you stop, look up, and find Carlos preparing dinner.

“Oh—” You pause. “You rang the dinner bell? Are my parents not…?”

“They are at a dinner,” says Carlos, eyes meeting yours briefly. It reminds you of earlier and you clear your throat, looking away. “So I hope my cooking is good enough.”

“It smells great,” you offer, seating yourself down and pouring a glass of wine. He sets the plate down—just-cut steak, a smear of potatoes. “Christ, you cook better than Dad.”

“I take that as a compliment,” he laughs, sitting across you. “Listen, I want to apologize for accidentally walking into your room earlier.”

Your face warms. “No, it’s okay. I was just surprised.”

“It was wrong of me. Let’s start over. I’m Carlos.” He reaches over to shake your hand, still standing. You take it, eyes flitting over his hand, spotting no glinting ring on his finger. With a saccharine smile, you assure him it was an honest mistake, so he segues into a different topic, the corners of his mouth turning up. “So, do you have an itinerary for me tomorrow?”

You hum, passing the wine over to him. “A bookstore, an ice cream parlor, and a bike ride. Anything else is seriously not worth it. You’ll have the next few weeks to explore town. If the house gets that boring.”

“I haven’t been bored so far,” he says, eyes glinting.

“Oh?”

“You know, with the car fixing.” He points vaguely to where the garage is. “But it’s only been a day.”

“Car fixing is boring,” you state matter-of-factly. “You’ll have fun tomorrow.” You cut into the steak and bite into the forkful you stab at, eyes fluttering.

“Good?” Carlos asks, smiling a little.

“I love it,” you mumble. “You’re so good at this, Carlos.”

Carlos retires to his room that night, and finds that today has held a collective motif of losing his shit. He’s anything but sleepy. Restless, wild-eyed, combing hand after hand through his hair. God, if he’d known you were this pretty—this hard to resist, on his first night here, no less—he would’ve been watching some DJ spin out a set with Lando right now.

Instead, he finds he can’t stop himself from thinking about you, the way your eyes had fluttered when he tried saying something on the edge of flirty. Your hair. Your hands, your fingers, lithe around the stem of your wine glass.

I love it, you’d said, you’re so good at this, Carlos. You knew exactly what you were doing, skittish tone putting him on edge. Despite himself, he can’t help but squeeze himself through his pants when he sits down on the edge of the bed, breathing heavy to purge himself of thoughts so low and dirty.

You’re so pretty. You’d be so easy to wreck, make his, goad little moans out of you, get your lips around him, puffy and pink and pretty. He wedges his eyes shut tight and hopes these thoughts will dissipate as the week passes.

Something tells him he’s wrong, though.

—

The tour is delayed because your dad insists he go fishing with Carlos three days in a row, but eventually (likely due to your mum’s insistence) it pushes through. You greet him with a smile, waiting by the door, wearing a sundress. Sundresses will definitely be his demise.

You’re a good tour guide, though, Carlos figures when you’re finished pointing at every turn and sign and dictating what goes where and where the passage to the coast is, when you’ve even quizzed him about where you are and where the house is supposed to be.

After he points in the correct direction, you nod approvingly. “That’s how my dad made sure I wouldn’t get lost,” you explain when he laughs at your choice of tour guidance.

“And you were what—twelve?” He asks, walking beside you. It’s fairly empty in town, a few tourists mulling about carrying shopping bags and plastic cups of juice.

“Try fourteen,” you argue.

“Well, quizzing a, uh—a fourteen-year-old is really not the same as quizzing a grown adult.”

“Ha. Call me when you can’t find your way home tonight,” you diss sarcastically, making a turn toward the bookstore down the street. “Okay, here we are. Don’t get too excited. They’re just books.”

For a relatively empty town, the bookstore always has new batches of titles, displayed proudly for natives and tourists alike front and centre. But you’re already going to the right side of the store, busying yourself with looking at the signs.

“The classics shelf is always my favorite,” you say, already walking ahead of him. Your dress bobs softly with your legs as you pace, short and sweet and white. You turn and his eyes slide back up instantly, and he hopes he was quick enough. “Do you have any authors you like?”

“I am not a big reader. You?”

“Huge,” you say, smiling a little. “Okay, we can browse. Are you into any genre…?”

Carlos proceeds to tell you his track record in the literary field includes: reading half the Harry Potter series, a car manual, and a few other titles in Spanish he cannot recall the name or plot of. But, he adds, he’s always wanted to read, found the activity so quiet and still and perfect, so he allows you to lead him through the titles stacked on each table and condensed on each shelf. He points at, sometimes, or picks up covers he finds appealing.

“How about—?” He reaches for a pink cover that reads It Ends With Us, but your hand loops around his wrist before he can pick it up and you’re pulling him into another aisle.

“…Not that.” You continue perusing the books around you, your hand still wrapped around his. With your free finger, you point at the top shelf, and tiptoe against the bookcase to try and get it. You come close, but not close enough.

Carlos, behind you, is successful, not even needing to tiptoe to reach for the red hardbound you’d been pointing at. It also means he’s pressed up against you, heavy and big, and the sensation dizzies you. When he finally pulls it off, you turn to him and find respite in the proximity—you two are so close, every exhale out of your lips causes a puff of air to blow against his hair.

He steps backward. You smile and gesture toward the book he’s holding. “That’s a good one.”

“Gabriel Garcia Marquez.” He reads out the author’s name in one fluid sentence, his Spanish accent becoming naturally more obvious.

“Okay, colonizer.” He knits his brows. “Trust me,” you insist. “One Hundred Years of Solitude—so good. It was one of the first books I read front to back twice in a row.”

“Wow, what an honor,” he teases sarcastically as you move along the aisle, fingertips brushing against the indents of the books. You turn to narrow your eyes and stick your tongue out. Unfortunately for Carlos, the effect this inflicts upon him is not oh she mocked me, but oh how would it look if—

He needs ice cream. Or to just get out of this aisle.

—

You punctuate the day with two cones of it, melting way too fast in the heat of summer. He’s already half-finished with his vanilla, and you’re taking your time with the lemon sorbet you’d gotten for yourself. Apparently, this is the only other highlight the town has to offer, and judging by the fact that most of the other stores are expensive clothes, souvenir shops, and a Bible bookstore—yeah.

Carlos is also more than sated with the three books in the paper bag he’s holding. Scratch that—six books, you bought a haul for yourself—but it’s not a particularly heavy load, so he’s fine. His phone has been buzzing with Lando’s update requests that he’s been deliberately ignoring.

“They make the best ice cream,” you rave, smiling. You lick over the melt on your lips. “Right?”

He might actually drop his cone now. “It is delicious.”

“Well…” You look around, your hair flying with every turn of your head. Lick over lips again. Again, and again. He has to look away.

“…Do you wanna stop by anywhere else?” You turn to him and ask, licking over the tip of your ice cream cone.

It’s hard for Carlos to pretend he’s looking around your surroundings, at the signs and storefronts, and not at your sticky lips, your pink tongue just peeking out to lap at the quickly melting gelato around your hand. His eyes flit downward, to where the hem of your tiny white dress has flown up in the coastal wind, exposing more of your thighs.

“Carlos?” You repeat, voice sweet and waiting.

He snaps his eyes back up and wills his voice to remain passive. “We can head back.”

So you do, meaning your tour ends around noon, and your parents greet you both with lunch and the round of inevitable questions. Did Comporta live up to your expectations? What books did you get? Was our daughter a good tour guide? The latter, Carlos answers with a smile—very good. You allowed your face to flush, blamed it on the sangria.

Now, though, it’s the brink in-between chilly and hot, sticky traces of the summer afternoon still lingering in the air, mixing with the cool of dusk when you decide to exit your room and fix yourself a glass of something, preferably sweet and alcoholic. An empty driveway save for a Ferrari means your parents are gone, leaving you and—if you’re lucky, which you hope you are—

“Carlos,” you call out from the window you’ve just tugged open with the expertise of somebody who’s lived here for twenty-one summers. “Thirsty?”

He looks up from where he is, outside, continuing his operation on your dad’s car. The hood’s been cranked open, and his long hair is damp with sweat, flying gently in the face of the sunset breeze. He smiles when he sees your figure peeking out.

“For what?”

“Whatever you want,” you respond, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. His white shirt’s stained with oil and dirt, tainting it beige and grey, the tight fit even tighter from his sweat. You can make out the outline of his abs just underneath.

He squints. “Beer?”

You make an exaggerated eugh face to tease him, but duck back inside to bring your homemade aperol and an open, frosty beer outside. When he sees you, he walks closer, smiles and takes a swig of the drink you offer. He makes a noise of satisfaction and you have to make a real effort to maintain a semblance of normalcy, eyes averting from his lips to gaze instead at his solid shoulders, his build, big and tall.

“What’s the problem with beer, hmm?”

“Tastes like shit.” You raise your aperol. “The sweeter, the better. How’s Dad’s car?” You blink, sidestepping him to try and gauge his progress.

“Casi termino.” You look at him, raising your eyebrows, and he translates. “Almost done. It wasn’t that destroyed, if at all.”

“You think he’ll let you drive it when you’re done?” You ask playfully, swiping your condensation-wet finger over the side of the car. You turn, smiling expectantly; Carlos laughs a bit, shrugs.

“It is just a favor. But if he does, I’ll make sure you get to come along.” He says. “You like that?”

“Mmm,” you nod, sipping on your aperol. You part from your straw, lips stained, and smile up at him. “I do.”

His gaze is stuck on your lips. You lick over them, and he looks away with a slow blink. You watch as he ruffles his hair, rounds the car and crosses his arms to view it from the back.

God, he’s handsome. You think of the long-winded nights you’ve been spending trailing your fingers over your legs or texting inspired paragraphs to friends back in university about him. Their responses are almost always Send pic now and a cacophony of heart eye emojis when you manage to snag a stolen shot of him doing just about anything.

His gaze is scrutinizing, every little detail of the car, and eventually he closes the hood again. “Should be good by tomorrow.”

“Where’d you learn to fix cars?” You ask sweetly, nearing him. The wind bites at your legs, your flowy skirt bouncing sporadically and held down by your free hand. When your eyes flit to his, waiting for his response, you find them snapping upward. He’d been distracted.

“I work with cars, so it comes natural.” You lean on the hood of the car and he comes to stand in front of you, his eyes pointed downward at you. “That’s not a very good habit,” he adds.

“Drinking?” You pout, raising your half-empty glass. You blink up at him, the corner of your smiling lip caught in your teeth.

“Biting your lip.” His gaze is intense. “You do it a lot, I noticed.”

You smile, leaning backward a little. His resolve is breaking. “Can I borrow one of the books you got earlier?”

“The three ones you bought not enough?” He raises a brow, downing beer again. Some of it dribbles out of the corner of his lip. You’ve never been one to like the taste, but you’d lick it off him if you could.

“I just wanna browse it,” you push. “I’ll return it tomorrow.”

“Fine,” he relents. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

—

He sees you the next day after lunch, which you’d skipped because you “weren’t hungry.” You’re wearing a dress, hair clipped into a bun when you excuse yourself to pick up an earring in front of him. He almost thinks it’s a fib until he sees it, the pink gem on the floor.

“Sorry,” you say, voice mellow, and then you’re bending over to pick it up. You’re wearing pretty lace panties underneath.

Carlos clears his throat and excuses himself, adjusting his shorts as he goes upstairs.

—

He gives you Norweigan Wood after dinner, like he promised earlier in the week. Two raps on your door, and when you open it, he’s already handing it to you with a quiet smile. “Goodnight,” he says, his voice clipped.

“Our tour isn’t over yet,” you tease, tossing the book onto your bed and descending the steps back downstairs. Confused and interested, he follows you, to the back area of the house, past the swinging screen door, down the steps, and onto the sand.

“Tour?” He repeats, for clarification. The only things to tour are sand and twigs.

“Yeah, Carlos. This is the real tour,” you joke, walking backwards. Every step sends your foot sinking into the cold sand, slowing your pace until Carlos catches up, matching your steps once he does. “Comporta—real and unfiltered.” You both laugh at your hyperbolic, MTV-worthy statement, and he waits for more, entertains you further.

“What is so real about this?” Carlos laughs, allowing himself to humor your little schtick.

“Well, mister. This isn’t bookstores and ice cream parlors.” You point to a nearby spot in the sand, just by a rogue stick. “This is where I smoke without getting caught. Near enough that I can run back in seconds, but faraway enough that my parents can’t immediately see what I’m doing. Granted, I don’t need to be sneaking around much, but if you ever want to do something in secret—”

The implication sends Carlos into a spiral of thought.

“—here’s your spot.”

“So you smoke,” he says when he sits himself on the sand, observing the now-dark skyline of the area. You continue pacing around a little, and when you raise your arms up to stretch, he catches a glimpse of your abdomen, the waistband of pink lace underneath the low rise of your denim shorts.

“Occasionally. Don’t play Holy Mary,” you warn, standing in front of him and stretching your hand out to reveal a box of Marlboro Reds.

“Wasn’t planning to,” he responds, taking a stick and inserting it in between his lips. “Got a light?”

“No,” you tease, taking one for yourself and sliding your lighter out from your pocket in one quick motion. The flame illuminates your face, casts a light on your thin white tee and on the bikini top you have on underneath. You puff out a small cloud of smoke, and Carlos reaches up to take the lighter.

“I said no,” you giggle, your lips knotting into a pout. You hold the lighter just out of his reach, red and bold against the bleak evening.

“Give it.” He sits up higher, reaches harder; he almost gets it, but you step backward and raise your arm out of reach. Again your shirt rises with the movement. The view he gets, this time, of your hips, the lace that hugs the area there, is much more close. The laugh you emit sends a cloud of smoke out.

“No, no,” you continue, laughing, a sweet sound.

Carlos gets up, tries again to lunge for the lighter. At this point he doesn’t even care about the cigarette in between his lips, just wants to entertain you. He tries again but you’re quick with it, ducking every lunge just in time.

“Come on,” he goads, laughing himself. You pace backward, smoking, until your ankles hit the shallow shore water, water that goes deeper and deeper until you’re knee-level, still smiling at him mischievously.

“Fine,” you relent, shrugging. You throw your hands up in surrender, in the process taking the stick out of your mouth to blow smoke out. “Do you want it? C’mere, then.” You beckon him closer, wave the lighter tantalizingly so he steps closer, closer, until you’re holding the flame to the cigarette between his lips.

He’s so tall, he has to bend a little to let you light it, his eyes meeting yours, illuminated by the pale moon and the orange of the flame.

It all goes to plan. Once you light it, you place two hands square on his shoulders, whirl him so he’s behind you and thus even deeper in the water, and with all your might, push him into the sea.

“Brat—” he manages to gasp out as he goes, the word leaving his lips in the first and last puff of smoke he lets out. He surfaces, every dip and ridge of his abs and chest accentuated, his linen polo near invisible with how saturated it is with water. His long hair, too, sticks to his forehead; he combs it backward, reveals his amused-irritated eyes, the dead cigarette spouting seawater and ash.

He spits it out. You stare and pinch the soggy stick in between two fingers, stuffing the trash into his chest pocket. “That’s bad for the environment.”

“I am freezing,” he says in response, but you’re just stifling a laugh.

He narrows his eyes, and with unsurprising ease given his build, picks you up and carries you over his shoulder. You barely have time to protest, almost dropping your own cigarette into the water, kicking and pounding on his back to please put me down. You can feel the water getting deep, deeper, and when he finally dunks you in, it’s only a second of dryness before you’re submerged in the chilly water.

Your cigarette dies, and you manage to collect it, because you’re not in the interest of leaving your stick floating; you wedge it into your pocket.

“You’re such”—you gasp for air—“a dick!”

You’re smiling, though, flailing your legs to stay afloat. Carlos can’t help but stare, entranced with the way your eyelashes stick together, damp, the droplets of water on your cheeks, your two hands wringing saltwater out of your hair, and when you swim upward, the way your white tee leaves nothing to his imagination.

You can tell. He can tell you can tell—because the next thing you do, with some faux exaggerated sigh of annoyance, is say, “Can’t swim, too heavy,” and you’re taking off your shirt so all he sees is the red of your bikini top underneath. The white tee bobs softly with each passing wave, and you’re smiling up at him. Checkmate, you’re saying. I’ve got you. A skittish, playful smile on your lips.

“I can help you swim,” he offers—retaliates, more like, his height offering him great advantage. He finds your bare ankle underwater, guides it to wrap around his waist. Naturally, your other leg follows until you’re flush against him, held up by him so you don’t need to wag your legs around just to stay above water.

Your hands go on his still-clothed shoulders first, then eventually around them, fingers linking at the nape of his neck. Your smile is wicked. You’re so sinfully pretty. He wades deeper, holds you all the while, two big hands on either side of your waist, thumbs rubbing over your sides so you can shiver.

“‘M so wet,” you say, voice shaky with chill and laughter. His grip tightens and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to try and pretend you didn’t just say that.

He dips you underneath the surface to surprise you, and your shriek is cut off by the water—he pulls you up quick, laughing, but underestimates his strength because as he tugs, you barrel right onto him, forehead bumping his.

Your eyes are closed, and you momentarily detach from him to wipe salt out of them. “Ass.”

“Brat,” he responds.

You open your eyes to find he’s close, so close you could just lean forward an inch—an inch—and you’d be meeting his lips. You wonder how they feel, how he kisses. He’s confident everywhere else, would he kiss you like that, too? You lean closer, a wrecked gasp escaping you.

“You’re so pretty,” you say, and it’s supposed to be teasing, but your breathy voice is genuine, honest. A thumb swipes over his eyelashes, causing him to blink, then the bridge of his nose. He leans upward, tries to catch your lips, but pauses, his eyes fluttering open and closed.

“This is wrong,” he says in a quiet breath, making no move at all you stop either of you from kissing right now.

You want—need—to kiss him, but you can play the long game if he wishes to. Your eyes flit back up to his, dark brown and reflecting the moon.

“Then let’s head back,” you suggest, even if both of you want anything but.

Long game. He guides you back to shore, picks your tee up, uses it as a sieve for any loose ash and cigarette bits in your path back to shore, even finds your red lighter that’s now dispensing water. He apologizes for not having anything to dry you with, and drops you off at your room with a puddle in both of your wakes.

“Thank you again,” he says, his voice a whisper through your ajar door. He observes your room with what little vantage point he has. The posters on the wall, the art, postcards. The laptop on the bed, open. The phone charging on the nightstand. The thong hanging out of the hamper.

“No problem,” you say back, voice saccharine. Your hand wraps around his wrist. “See you tomorrow.”

Even if you’re doused in seawater, he can still smell the traces of your perfume, the summery sweet of it, when you close the door. He stays for a second, blinks, relishes in the hint of floral.

—

You spend three days walking on eggshells around each other, testing the limits of interaction.

Your night at the beach was risky, dangerous, thrilling—but it was fun, sending you both into antsy, restless trains of thought. Carlos self-medicates with coffee, beer in the afternoon, working on your dad’s car, and the first two hundred pages of the Marquez book you insisted he pick up. He spots you sometimes, lounging on the beach with his book in your grip, the waistline of your bikini bottoms leaving a tanline he can’t stop staring at when you walk back into the house.

But he can’t act on it—he was the one who labeled it wrong, the one who suppressed himself, held the urge back. He told you it was wrong. And it is wrong. He’s older, he should be wiser; he’s close with your dad; and a cacophony of other rational reasons he shouldn’t be playing into this skittish summer crush.

“Dad said the boat’s free,” a voice says, and he looks up from his book to find you standing in front of him, wearing nothing but a bikini top and a skirt, loose and riding low on your hips. Your lips stretch into a sweet smile. “Wanna come?”

He really shouldn’t. “Sí.”

So he goes. He’s thirty-five. That’s a grown age. If anything, he’s capable of making sure he stays responsible. He dog-ears his page and picks up his beer to follow you to where the boat is docked. He’d been on your dad’s yacht earlier in his trip here, to go fishing, but it’s quieter today, bobbing softly atop the water. You lie yourself down on the sunny side of the boat, sunglasses over your eyes.

“Stay anywhere you like,” you say charmingly. It’s silent for a while, Carlos seating himself on one of the lounge seats in the shaded area, and then you’re moving around on your towel.

You peer over your lenses, blinking and sitting up, and this is when he knows he can’t do it.

“Carlos,” you call out. “Can you put sunscreen on my back?” You get up again, rifling in your bag for the bottle of sunscreen, dragging a hand through your hair to comb it out. It falls in loose waves, swishing when you turn to hand him the bottle. He pretends he’d been distracted on page 210 when he accepts it, watching as you sit in front of the seat, your back turned to him, your little figure in-between his spread legs.

A minute passes with no hand at your back. “Go ahead, move even slower,” you joke, and the tension breaks a little; he humors you, laughs and apologizes.

“It’s because hour hair is in the way,” he says, touching it gently, combing it to the side.

“Wait—” You dig through your bag again and pull out a blunt pink ribbon, slipping it into his hand. “Can you braid it for me?”

“Braid?” He doesn’t know jack shit about braiding hair. “I don’t know how.”

“At that age of yours and you don’t know anything about how to please a girl,” you whistle lowly. “Adult virgin?”

But you guide him through it despite your teasing, teaching him to divide your hair in threes, weaving one strand over the other until “it looks half decent.” He fucks up a few times and your hair looks odd at some point, but in the end, it’s—well, it’s a braid.

“How is it?” You ask, and he can hear your smile.

He does the job well enough for a first-timer, he thinks, finishing it with the ribbon, which he ties loosely lest you’re unhappy with the finished product. It becomes easier to move your hair out of the way, and once your back is saturated with sunscreen, you unfold your legs and get up, turning around and smiling down at his sitting figure.. Loose tendrils of hair frame your face, the braid resting at your back softly, already loosening.

“Your hair can be braided, too,” you comment quietly, knotting a rogue few strands in your fingers. It hasn’t been this tense since that night at the beach, but that ended before the tension rose further—this, now, keeps going. You step closer and he leans back, smiling. “Can I?”

He blinks, nostrils flaring, then nods, his grip on your hips gentle when you sit on his lap, your legs on either side of his. You smile coquettishly, feeling how hard he is underneath you, the denim of his jeans rough against the skin of your bare thighs. Your skirt’s riding up on them with every little shift you make, just to rile him up.

Carlos drinks in the sight of you, sunkissed and on his lap, legs sprawled out, pretty little face framed, bottom lip in your teeth. You’re inviting him closer, your gaze meeting his with sleepy, demure eyes—do something. You look so fucking precious, so pretty. It makes him want to give you everything right now.

You reach forward, make an attempt to try and weave his hair together—but he grinds upward, your breath hitching and a whimper punched out of your mouth.

Your hands are shaking now, barely able to piece his hair together with how good his clothed cock feels pressed against you, where you need it most.

“Carlos,” you gasp, and all he can really think is—where’d all your fight go? You were so used to being a brat and a half, now you’re whimpering, on the edge of begging.

“Be quiet,” Carlos grunts, digging his fingers into your hips. His other hand lifts your skirt, bunching the fabric around your hips for a better view of your cunt rubbing against the bulge in his pants. The damp fabric of your panties is swallowed between your lips with every grind you make forward and he has to stop himself from cursing out loud at the sight. “Good girl.”

Your hands move from his hair to his shoulders, sturdy and broad; you can feel him squeeze your waist with both hands, then pull you down against him, just once, so your weight presses down on the hard shape of his cock. It makes him shudder and you whine out loud. You resist the urge to grind over it; you’re already so wet you’re making a mess on his jeans.

His praise, mumbled deep and slow in your ear, gets you feeling all warm, almost ditzy. Your hips roll on their own, chasing the delicious drag of rough denim against your clit, slick soaks into and through your panties, making the material cling to the shape your folds. Carlos’ hands are rough when they wander and grope, hiking this godforsaken skirt up so he can press a thumb against the centre of your folds.

“Been so good for you, Carlos,” you whine, circling your hips against him. He can’t stop staring at your pretty, fucked-out eyes, your bitten lips. He shoves two fingers in-between them, imagines how they looked just a few days ago slick with ice cream—now your tongue is laving over his hand. The braid you'd just taught him is quickly unraveling with every nod of your head. “‘M gonna—can I—” The pleas leave you quick, your voice choked.

Euphoric, your mind lifts, foggy and saturated with pleasure, the braid almost completely undone now. His praise is so addictive, gets you worked up and needy. Come on, he says. Make a mess. His accent, his deep voice, the way it rumbles right through you—his voice drops, his touch a little heavier as he presses harder.

You gonna cum for me? His thumb rubs faster until you’re gasping, shuddering, little ahs leaving your lips. He’s got the upper hand now, but you can hear the strain, the suppression in his voice as he rubs over the soaked fabric; you feel his cock growing under you, getting harder.

P—please—I want to—please let me, you say breathlessly, and you’ve never needed it to the point of begging before, but Carlos is different. He keeps going, doesn’t give you permission, rubbing faster, your heart hammering in your chest.

Feel good?

Y—yeah, you whimper, trying your best not to fall apart here, on your dad’s boat, where anybody could walk on—or maybe see you from afar, humping your dad’s friend in broad daylight. He loves watching you like this; you’ve somehow become even prettier, face flushed and voice shaky.

Come on, he goads. Be a good girl. Cum for me.

It’s the only instruction that matters to you right now, your body seizing with it and cute little moans escaping you as you finish. You catch your breath against his chest, craving warmth even if it’s hot—maybe you’re craving him, his touch, Carlos, just Carlos. You maneuver yourself so legs, exhausted from shaking, are on one side of his body—he holds you close, humming.

He rubs a steady hand across your lower back, gentle and firm and you want him so much more now. “Are you okay?” He asks. “Talk to me.”

“Perfect,” you pant against his polo, fingers playing with the stitching, tugging the collar down so you can mouth at his skin. His hand plays with what’s left of the braid, winds the pink ribbon around his fingers. “Let’s go for a swim.”

—

“And we drove the jet ski around, too,” you say gleefully, your damp hair bobbing with every move of your head. Your face is sunkissed, a little sore from being in the sun for most of the afternoon. Carlos laughs along from where he is at the grill—he’s cooking for dinner, on a quest to make burgers because he’s known for making the best ones back in Madrid, apparently. Your dad, of course, insists on joining, and the two have been asking and answering questions while you and your mum sip rosé at the table.

“Did you have fun?” Your mum asks, her head turning to address Carlos.

“Yeah, tons,” he replies with a smile, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second. You know what he means. It’s been only two days since the afternoon on the boat, and since then you’ve mostly swam and ridden around on the jet ski with Carlos—nothing more.

“See, sweetie,” she adds, placing a hand over yours. “I told you this summer would be fun with him around!”

“Mmm, yeah,” you say, nodding and parting from your glass, “I can really count on him for some excitement.” The statement catches his attention and he almost trails off, eyes returning to yours, before he continues speaking in Spanish to your dad about something or other.

The burgers’ reputation precedes them, and is warranted, you learn later when you’re biting into it for the first time. The remainder of dinner passes by in lively conversation, the sun setting low underneath the Comporta horizon, wine taking the place of rosé. Carlos mentions the racing world again, about how he’ll be back into the thick of it sooner than later, and you pulse with something akin to sadness.

Your parents, apparently so grateful for the blessing that is Carlos’ burgers, offer to clean up and before long, they retreat to their downstairs bedroom. Upstairs, you marinate in your thoughts, blinking up at your ceiling, twining your pink ribbon around your fingers as your hair dries splayed over your bedding. You let your arm down, in the process bumping your elbow against a hard surface.

Upon investigation, you find it’s a copy of Norweigan Wood.

Carlos is at his desk, taking a timezone-separated call about simulation and season prep, when two soft knocks go at his door and it creaks open. He turns the chair away from the desk to see who it is. An ankle steps in first, then more leg, and then you—in a lovely, pretty pink lace dress, your face illuminated by the moonlight outside. One hand clutches a copy of his book; the other, the ribbon he’d used on your hair earlier.

He’s nursing a bottle of beer, just to help ease the drag of the day, and he watches you approach him, your footsteps quiet against the hardwood of the floor. Wait, he mouths, finishing the call in a hushed tone, and when he hangs up you approach him again.

“I thought you should have this back,” you say, offering him the book. Your eyes rake over him, wearing the same getup he’d worn to dinner—denim jeans, because he’d ducked out to buy food, except he’s ridden himself of his shirt.

He takes the book, places it on the table, continues staring up at you. “And I thought you should keep this.” The ribbon, pale pink, is now looped around his wrist and tied into a delicate ribbon at the apex of it. You admire your handiwork with a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

You lean down, face just shy of his. “We shouldn’t,” he manages to eke out, his voice strained.

“But you want to,” you respond softly. “No one’s going to know. Our little secret.”

His eyes are shut, contemplating, and then he’s kissing you—the only thing you’ve wanted, craved, touched yourself to the thought of over the course of the summer. You reciprocate immediately, parting your lips to let him kiss you deeper, a whimper leaving your mouth. He kisses like he knows he’s a good kisser, and he really is. His scent is intoxicating, a drug, sending arousal and desire straight through you.

You part, eyes half-lidded as you stand straight again. You cock your head slowly to the side, and with your head’s movement your hair follows, gathering on one side. It exposes much of your shoulder and collarbones, which lay underneath the thin lace dress you wear to sleep, and which is now subject to Carlos' unwavering stare. He has no shame, eyes raking over you, up and down and back up. One hand curled around a bottle of beer, the other coming up to slowly graze the back of your thigh.

Your breath hitches. “Do you like the dress?” You ask softly, teasingly. It’s nothing special, Carlos, you seem to say; it’s just a nightie.

His hand is rough against the thin skin of your leg, traveling upward. He gives you a nod in response; he does like it, the sheer material, the pink color, the loose way it hugs your body. Roughly, he voices his assent. “Come sit on my lap.”

“Wait,” you say, pouting. Your knee rubs softly against the material of his jeans, and you slowly sink onto your knees, hands placing themselves on your thighs. His grip goes from the back of your thigh to your hair, combing it softly, cradling your face.

“Let me,” you say, letting your silence imply everything unsaid. He’s going crazy, losing his mind.

“So pretty,” he says, nodding. his voice thin. “Go ahead, baby.”

The petname gets you dizzy. You lean forward, resting your face on the hard bulge in his pants, smiling up at him. You’ve got these big, doe eyes, begging him, and he’s not so sure he even has the upper hand anymore—he would do anything you asked, any request that left those pretty bitten lips. He gathers your hair in two hands, forms a messy, unclean braid, crisscross at the back of your head just so he has something to grip while he fucks your throat.

You make quick, deft work of unbuttoning his jeans, and he watches, leaned back on the chair, legs spread wide with bent knees on either side of your body, caging you in. Carlos’ eyes are half-lidded, a hand at your braid, bringing his beer to his lips, swallowing before he sets it onto the adjacent desk.

His cock is big—thick, intimidating—and you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to fit the whole thing in your mouth without choking. It twitches in your palms the longer you stroke him, precum weeping from the head and slicking up your palms. Gruff expletives, in Spanish and English, slip past his gritted teeth and the sounds travel directly to your core, causing you to instinctively press your thighs together to soothe the ache blossoming there.

You take head of his cock into your mouth, feel it roll over your tongue, heavy and warm. Drool gathers in your mouth and your fingers dig into the muscle of his thighs in anticipation. The hand wound around your braid, pressed against your head, presses heavier slowly, slotting the first few inches of cock into your mouth while avoiding the back of your throat. You relax, letting your lips seal around the length, cheeks hollowing and tongue lulling at the underside. He curses.

You continue bobbing your head, lewd noises leaving your mouth with every move you make; it embarrasses you, but also sends slick gushing out of you.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when the tip of his cock grazes the back of your throat; you cough, fingers heavy as they dig into the flesh of his still-denim clas thighs; drool trickles onto his balls. The hand remains there, though, pushing you and keeping you pinned in place as he slowly thrusts upward. You haven’t even gotten him all the way.

You gag and sputter, eyes fully watering the harder Carlos bullies his cock into your throat; you’re dizzy with arousal and submission, maybe one, maybe both, you’re too far gone.

“Easy,” he orders, and you will yourself to breathe nasally, relaxing, burying more of him in you. He loves seeing you like this, hair all pretty—his braid, too—and on your knees, trying your best to please him. “Being so good for me, good girl,” he says, losing resolve. You’re so pretty when you cry, eyes rimmed and bloodshot, tear streaks all over your cheekbones.

He ruts shallowly into your throat, every move punctuated by a guttural gag from your end—once, twice, a third time, before finally he releases you. You let out a cough, and a gasp, breathy, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. He doesn’t want to cum yet—not like this. You gaze up at him, big eyes anticipating, and he guides you upward, on the bed.

He kicks his jeans off and readjusts his briefs, watches you scramble to position yourself on the bed, sitting down properly. “Will you fuck me now?” You ask, your sweet voice raspy. He likes knowing he’s the reason why.

You inch yourself backward so you’re fully on his bed, a hand traveling to stop your tiny dress from riding up any further. He steps closer, one knee on the bed, caging you in again, and stops you. His gaze flickers down to your legs, forces your knees apart so he can see in between them. Your pretty cunt’s soaked through your panties. “Don’t hide from me,” he says, voice rough as he steps back off the bed and kneels beside it.

“Carlos,” you breathe, letting him have his way with you. Your mind’s all fuzzy, but it’s okay—he takes care of you.

Strong arms snake around your thighs and pull you toward him until your cunt is level with his face. His breath, warm, fans against you, muted by the thin fabric of your panties and it does nothing to help the unadulterated, dirty arousal throbbing in your cunt. He bites at the flesh of your inner thigh, then hooks two fingers into your panties and pulls them aside.

The taste of you is so good; it goes straight to Carlos’ head. And all of your embarrassed, whiny whimpers, the way your fingers knot helplessly into his hair as he drags his tongue up your cunt — that drives him absolutely crazy. He licks at your pussy, sticks his tongue in, nudges your clit with his nose, ekes whimpers and debauched moans out of your lips.

He pushes two fingers into you, doesn’t give you time to adjust before he’s fucking them in and out, moans spilling out of you involuntarily. It’s lewd, it’s dirty, getting his friend’s daughter all spread out for him like this, but Carlos loves it. More, you sob, more, please, I need—yeah—

His skilled tongue doesn’t let up, continues toying with you, licking up all the arousal oozing out of your cunt. He eats you, fucks you with his fingers, until your eyes are welling up with overwhelm and the need to release, your hands pulling at his long hair—your pussy dripping, quivering, right at the edge of your orgasm.

Any of the reservations you had are now out the window. Your grip on Carlos’ hair is tight, pushing his head deeper into your pussy and grinding against his mouth mindlessly.

I’m cumming—!

Your voice is so dirty, so lewd, so needy, when you finally finish around him, slick dripping out and your pussy twitching, clenching and unclenching around nothing as you release. Panting, you hoist yourself on your elbows, your braid surprisingly intact, and pout down at him.

“I said fuck me.”

“So you complain,” he responds with a coy smile, his lips shiny with your slick. You want him to fuck you stupid.

He does eventually, gets you all calm and lying down on the bed, knees to your chest. Your feet cross and uncross with anticipation. He lets his cock rest first on your stomach, where it twitches, smearing precum under your belly button.

“That’s where you’ll be,” you say, stroking him. When he finally does begin thrusting into you, he wishes he could save the image of your pretty eyes fluttering closed, puffy lips open in a whimper.

Your legs tremble with the size you’re taking, his hand gentle as it is firm on your hips, forcing you to take him, take him good, take him better. Good girl, he’s saying, good fucking girl. Inch by inch, you struggle to take all of him, his girth thicker than what your cunt is willing to take. You’re positive you’ll feel him in your stomach.

“Carlos,” you whimper, voice aching.

“Fuck,” is all he can muster, watching your pussy swallow him. “So tight.”

He’s drunk on the feeling of you, wet and clenching around him, so tight. He can tell you’re high on it too, on the stretch of him, the way you keep trying to meet every thrust, legs already beginning to tremble with pleasure and deep arousal. He bottoms out, an expletive leaving him in Spanish, and then slowly begins to fuck in and out of you.

He watches your face, the way your brows knit as you take him, take his cock, eyelides fluttering. “So good,” you moan, mouth open. He drops a glob of spit onto your tongue, tells you to swallow—you do, presenting your empty tongue to him. Good girl, prettiest girl—any and all praise leaves him in dizzy, heady breaths.

“Teasing me for so long,” he pants, his dick splitting you in half. “This what you wanted? Hmm?”

But even in your cloudy mind, you find the grit to retaliate, teasingly, a cloy smile on your lips. “You said it was wrong,” you gasp out with every thrust. “Fucking your friend’s daughter.”

“But you love it,” Carlos goads. “Do you?”

You nod, cockdrunk, but it’s not enough. “Use your words, pretty. You can do it.”

“I do, I love it. I need more,” you whine, getting off on his teasing, on the implication that this is all wrong, that neither of you should be doing this. “Needed this so much, Carlos.” You crack your eyes open to watch the bulge in your abdomen, the shape of his girth splitting you open. He slams into you harder and you try to squirm away, but he keeps you pinned in place.

“And if your dad walked in?”

You gush slick all over him. “Carlos,” you plead.

“Saw his daughter taking his friend’s dick?” He says it low into your ear, bending to make sure you hear all of it. “Taking it like a good girl, too.” He pulls out, slaps your ruined hole with his dick, then shoves it in deep again, groaning when you cry out—getting off on you whining about how sensitive you are, the way you tremble under him and around him. Your pretty little face, all sweaty and ruined.

“I’m gonna—fuck—I’m, Carlos—I’m gonna cum,” you say, nodding. You’ve probably cum twice already, little bursts of pleasure causing your cunt to twitch around him, sensitive. “Can I—?”

“That’s it,” he praises. “Come on, cum for me. Been so good for me.” You tremble around him as you finish, broken moans fucked out of you with every surge of his hips forward.

He’s close, too, having held off fucking you for the past how many days, and you can tell; his thrusts get shallower, faster, until his hips are stuttering and he’s panting your name out, long hair framing his flushed, pretty face. You reach up to comb a hand through it. “Cum inside me,” you beg, watching him go crazy, his nostrils flaring and eyes blinking quick.

He pumps his cum into you, thrusting several times as he rides it out, fucking you full of him, of his cum. You relish in the feeling, of being his girl, his good girl. “You’re a mess,” he comments, his face buried into your neck. He pulls out, both of you sighing at the sight and feeling of his cum dribbling out of you, onto the bed.

You unfold your legs, sitting up despite how sore you feel. Your dress is damp with sweat, and slick, and cum. “I feel a mess.” You pout.

“You look pretty.”

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You ask, voice meek. He nods, holds you tight as you both drift off, like he knows that you won’t be his to call his by the time the summer wanes and Comporta is left empty again.

—

“It’s the post-race interview,” Ali calls. “Hurry!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” You hop into the living room, tossing her the bag of popcorn she’d requested you to cook. Fall has officially dawned upon the city, adorning it with orange and red leaves, jazz music and cold nights—and weekends watching races.

Around you, all your university friends watch with intense gazes at the winner of the latest Formula One grand prix—something none of you had been remotely interested in just months prior.

You watch, eyes glittering, at the winner. Tan skin, long hair, jogging over to the journalist. Sainz, what a stellar drive! She sounds awestruck, genuinely taken aback by his dominance on the track today. She asks for a message in Spanish, as always; a few words of inspiration, and then, just as a fun little tidbit—did you have a good luck charm today?

He smiles to himself, like he’s just heard an inside joke and seems to think for a minute. “No, not really.” Then he combs a hand through his hair. There, looped around his wrist, is a pretty, pale pink ribbon.

#f1 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz one shot #f1 x reader

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zeltqz · 1 year ago

Text

having rindou as a clingy, needy fwb

content: safe sex, sexting, suggestive pics, rindou is a horny guy, needy guy, clingy guy, implied possessive rindou, fem!reader

a/n: ive been so inactive im so sorry guys i feel so bad :( uni has been literally kicking my BOOOOOTYYYY anyway enjoy this quick one shot with rindou :))

He’s bold.

You set the shopping bag down on the floor by your bed and began to unpack its contents, ready for a mini fashion show in front of your mirror when your phone chimed by your bedside table.

You were halfway with taking your top off when you heard the buzz and walked over to it and grabbed it.

rinnn wyd

You smiled at his random text message, eyes trained on your screen as you sat backwards onto your bed and texted back.

you Just came back from shopppinggg

Setting your phone down, you’re about to stand back up to head towards your mirror when he responds at lightspeed. Oh he must be so bored today, you snigger and decide to text him back.

rinnn What you get?

you Cant tell you thattttt Too personal

rinnn What was it? Lingerie?

you Oh um

rinnn No way. Pfft yeah right

you WHATS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN????

rinnn Nothing i just cant see you in that at all

you Well its true

rinnn Sureeee Lemme see it

you Ok wait one second

You stand up from your bed and walk over to your bag, grab the lacy bra and matching panties set and place it flat on your bed. It took longer than a second to snap the photo as you wanted it to look perfect and presentable so you spent longer actually wiping stray crumbs from your bed, closing your curtains to get perfect lighting, straightening out your bedsheets in order to get the perfect photo.

Once you were pleased, you hopped back onto your bed and sent the photo to Rindou. As expected, since it took longer than you said to send the photo he went offline and you huffed impatiently. Ten minutes later your phone was buzzing and you zoomed for it eagerly, only for your smile to fade when you saw his response.

rinnn Thats not what i meant

you WDYM?????

rinnn Did you get it for your boyfriend?

you You know damn well i dont have a boyfriend

rinnn Lmfao i know. just checking

you what???

rinnn Show me the fit tho

you I did

rinnn Put it on

you oh…OHH Sure okay…

You weren’t expecting that at all honestly. Yet the idea of putting it on for Rindou weirdly turned you on. You bit your lip and stared down at the lacy material laid on your bed and slowly began to strip off your shirt and bottoms. Once it was on, you quickly walked up to the mirror and examined how it looked on you.

It was the cheapest matching set available in store and you weren’t rich by any means so it’ll have to do. You quickly grabbed your phone and snapped a photo of you standing in the mirror.

The photo was horrible. You were stiff, awkward and you accidentally took the photo in the middle of blinking. You wanted to cry but you couldn’t find the confidence left in yourself to retake it, so you cropped your face out and sent the photo to Rindou without a second thought.

It all happened so quickly that you failed to realise the gravity of what you just did until you saw Rindou read the message. Your eyes widened and you tossed your phone across the room, flopping instantly onto your bed and thrashing between the sheets for a minute or two to let your frustrations and anxieties out.

It was the first time you ever sent someone intimate photos and you made a promise to your younger self that you’d wait until you were in an official relationship to do that. But here you were sending them to your best friend just because you wanted his approval for reasons that were beyond you.

Your phone buzzed minutes later and you peeked an eye open at your phone from across the room, took a deep breath then reached for it.

rinnn Damn u look so sexy right now

you Lol stop Thank you tho

rinnn Send another

you Desperate much?

rinnn Coming from the girl buying lingerie for herself

you Nothing wrong with that :( But fine wait

You feel exceptionally giddy when you stand up from your bed, your confidence rising back up in copious amounts as you waddle towards your mirror. This time, you recorded a short video of you from side to side, showing off your assets as seductively as you possibly could before sending it to him.

His response only spurs you on even more.

rinnn Would u kill me if i was hard rn

you Probably yes Flattered, but yes

rinnn How would u kill me?

you Choke you maybe. Or like suffocation and prolong it as long as i can

rinnn With your thighs? I wont mind that

Your face flushes as your thumbs freeze over your keyboard.

you OML YOURE SO HORNY I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT

rinnn Thats how i took it

you Yeah i know, you weirdo

rinnn How would you suffocate me though?

you With my hands duhhhhhh. Actually maybe a pillow. More surface area.

rinnn You’ll be on top of me?

The image of you on top of him with your hands around his throat plagued your mind and you were lost for words for the third time tonight. It didn’t even occur to you that you were sexting your best friend.

you If that's how you want to go out then yes

rinnn It is

you Then i will

rinnn Good

You This escalated so fast Goodbye rindou

He’s needy.

His phone is ringing.

Rindou’s phone is ringing whilst he’s on top of you, lips kissing and sucking your soft skin just under your jaw as his cock thrusts slowly into you. Your hands are playing with his hair, running your fingers through them, scratching at his scalp when his cock reaches that spot inside you with enough force to tease, not satisfy you.

You’d been begging him to go rougher, want to hear the loud slap of his hips against yours but he’d been so adamant on taking his sweet time, like his phone hasn’t been ringing for the last thirty seconds.

“Rinnnnnn,” you grumble irritatedly, the soft strokes you were doing on his hair now turned to a full on tug , as harsh as you could, with enough force to completely still his lips on your neck.

He pulls away from you and lifts himself up onto his arms, looking down at you with a peeved expression on his face.

“What.” His hips still don’t still, thrusting ever so slightly into you but keeps on managing to hit that spot regardless and see your eyes roll as you bite down your lip to stifle a moan.

Unlinking your arms from around his neck, you try to reach over to the bedside table but your arms are too short. Grumbling, you try to shift and Rindou just stills entirely, watching you grab his phone that was face down as it rang continuously for the last minute.

Missed call: Dad

Your eyebrows raise as you read the contact and turn the phone towards Rindou. He clicks his tongue, irritated your attention is off him and grabs the phone.

“It’s just my old man, who cares?” He tosses the phone backwards on the bed, this time you can’t reach it if it rings again and his thrusts restart, slowly rolling his hips into your core.

“What if it's important?” you mumble, your voice shaky when he relowers himself on you, kissing your lips softly. “Rin—” Your words keep getting swallowed by his lips and he doesn’t stop kissing you until you finally give in.

He grabs onto your hand and lifts it, nestling it on top of his head and moves your fingers to play with his hair. You got the hint and began stroking his hair again, loving the way he hums into your mouth whenever you tug at his hair.

You were finally submitting to him again, his phone long forgotten in your mind and he grins before pulling away from the kiss to reattach his lips back onto your neck, adding more to the marks he left on your neck prior.

“Rin faster please,” you whine, trying to lift your hips to feel his cock deeper inside you but he’s quicker. A firm hand pressing down on your hips to keep them flat on the bed.

“Stop being so needy,” he says, voice muffled as he doesn’t stop sucking down your throat.

“I’m needy? Says the one who’s been kissing me and having me play with your hair for the last—” You grab your phone that was under his pillow and check the time. You got here around five p.m and it's now close to six. “—hour.”

“Were you not complaining you barely get aftercare during sex? All those other boys you were with practically discarded you, now I’m doing it and you have a problem?” His hand runs on the underside of your right breast before cupping it, squeezing it in his hand, enjoying the way you shiver momentarily. “Make up your fuckin’ mind.”

His tongue licks at your nipple and your body jerks briefly before stilling as he sucks on your soft nipple till it hardens.

“That’s—not the same and you know it, Rin.” you huff, unable to think of a comeback; not when he’s treating you like this. He chuckles and bites gently on your breast.

All you can think of as you toss your head back is the feeling of his soft lips on your breast, his tongue licking at your nipple, sending static down your entire body.

His mouth is hot against your skin and you find yourself subconsciously lifting your chest higher to feel more of his mouth.

Your hands grab onto his face and lift him to look at you before pulling him towards you for a kiss. His hand rests on the headboard behind you as your needy mouth moves against his.

You take the time to run your fingers along his sides, dragging them along his bare back that’s far too clean for your liking, not enough scratch marks like usual. If only he’d actually fuck you like you wanted.

This time, your phone starts to ring beside you and you pull away, breaking the kiss and completely missing the way Rindou rolls his eyes as you instantly go to answer it.

“Hello?”

Bored, Rindou bends back down to your neck only to have you press your spare hand against his mouth, looking sternly at him and shaking your head.

“Oh hi Kakucho. Yes, Rindou’s with me.”

Rindou gives you a confused look and you shrug before listening intently at your phone. “Oh really? Yeah, we’re not busy right now. I’ll tell him. Okay, bye.” You hang up and put your phone back on the bed.

“Why did you lie?” Rindou asks.

“Kakucho said he needs you for something. I don’t know what, he won’t tell me.”

“Okay? I’m still busy though.” He pins you back down to the bed when you go to sit up. “I’ll fuck you for real this time. Let me finish.”

As if to prove his point he shifts backwards, grabbing your ankles and lifting your legs to rest on his shoulder. He leans forward and his cock instantly slides deeper than before; you moan loudly.

“Right there?” He rolls his hips again, testing. You nod rapidly, breathless and that’s all he needs before snapping his hips recklessly.

Your walls flutter around the condom with each thrust and he can’t get enough of how good you feel around him. He buries his head between your shoulder and his pillow and listens to your moans, how loud and shaky they get when his hips press firmly against yours.

“I’m close,” you say softly, biting down on your lip.

“Me too. Shit.”

His orgasm comes faster than he’d expected, his seed spilling out into the condom when you moan his name softly as your own walls spasm from your own orgasm. He lays on top of you momentarily before remembering Kakucho’s call and reluctantly lifts himself off you.

He slides off the bed and you lift your jelly legs up to sit upright, watching him change back into his clothes.

“What time will you be back?” you ask, resting your chin on your arm perched on top of your knee.

“Not sure to be honest. I don’t even know what these people want.” He fixes his belt. “Why? You’ll miss me?” he adds with a smirk and you roll your eyes,

“Other way around Rindou.”

“Mhm sure .” Fully dressed, he fixes his hair that’s been ruffled from earlier. “C’mere.”

You slide off the bed and walk over to him. He cups your cheek and pulls you closer, gently kissing you.

You pull away after a few moments and push him towards the door. “Get out already. Stop stalling and go see your friends.”

He laughs before closing the door.

He can’t keep his hands off you.

Rindou has his arm wrapped around your shoulder, keeping sure your body is pressed against his side the entire party. If you wanted to get a drink, he’ll be with you with his arm around your shoulder. It’s a friendly gesture, what can he say?

If you wanted to play beer pong with his friends, his arm is around your hip, standing behind you, close enough so that your ass constantly brushes his crotch whenever you make any sort of movement.

His friends all look at him like he can’t be serious. Ran can’t even think of a time he’s seen you without Rindou’s arm around you honestly. It’s gotten that far.

If you’re sitting on the couch, Rindou’s arm is around your waist, making sure you’re sitting as close to him as possible. What can he say, he just wants to make space for others on the couch. He’s a generous guy.

You’re currently in the bathroom, fixing your hair up to get ready to step into the pool.

Rindou’s watching you as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, shamelessly running his eyes along your body in your bathing suit. You’re not oblivious to his staring, only used to it at this point. It’s not like you don’t stare at him too whenever he’s shirtless.

It’s only admiration .

Rindou stands up and stands behind you as you take your earrings out, his chest right against your back as you look at him through the mirror.

“You good?” you ask, concerned. He’s been silent the entire time you’ve been changing.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” he murmurs, distracted by the thin strap of your bathing suit. He can’t help but wonder how something so thin can be sturdy enough to hold up in the waters. The last thing he wants is for it to come loose and have your entire chest exposed in front of all his friends.

“I dunno Rin. You’ve been really quiet since Sanzu mentioned swimming—”

“Isn’t this a little flimsy?” he cuts you off, ignoring you in favour of tugging at your strap.

“You think?” You tug at the other one and wonder. “I think it’ll be fine. Actually! Could you tighten the strings at the back?” You reach behind your back and gesture at it.

“Sure.” His voice is low as he unties the straps and begins tying them again but tighter. Halfway, he stops and you don’t notice until you’ve fully taken out your earrings, feeling your bikini top begin to slip.

“Uh, Rin?” You feel him moving the straps off your shoulder but before you can question it, he’s turning you around and hoisting you up onto the bathroom counter. “Rin. What are you—”

He leans forward, entrapping in a kiss that has you shutting up instantly. His hand palms your breast through your bikini top that’s on the verge of falling to the floor.

Your hands move to the side of his face and hold him close to you as he slips between your legs, his hand dropping to rest at your hips. His tongue plays with yours, licking into your mouth and you have to fight to keep the soft moan rising in your throat down as you ran your hands down the plane of his chest, gripping at the waistband of his shorts to tug him closer.

Your bikini top finally falls to the floor and it feels so good to have his hand caressing your bare breast.

A loud knock at the door startles you; Rindou remains unfazed, only irritated at being interrupted.

“What the fuck do you want?” Rindou yells at the door.

“We’re about to get in the pool. You guys coming or not?!” Sanzu yells back from the other end.

Rindou turns back to you and you shrug, not really minding what you do. His eyes drop down to your lips, your bare chest, your legs, then his dick that’s been hard in his shorts for the last five minutes.

“We’ll see you in a bit.” Rindou kisses you again, lifting you off the counter slightly to slide the rest of your bikini off.

“We’re busy right now.”

#—tr </3 #rindou haitani x reader #haitani rindou x reader #rindou smut #rindou x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev #tokyorev x reader #tr smut #tr x reader #tokrev smut

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satoluv · 1 year ago

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SOCIALS AS NANAMI KENTO’S GF

yn.ln my uber driver is hot, wait no that’s my bf 🤭

1k likes 300 comments

⤿ nkento : 😳😳

⤿ reply to nkento @ gojo.s : when will u ever drive me around 😒😒

⤿ reply to gojo.s @ geto.s : I GIVE U FREE RIDES WITH MY BIKE AND U HAD THE AUDACITY 🖕🏼🖕🏼 have fun taking the bus from now on.

⤿ shoko.ii : damn hes rich af

nkento museum date. thank you to the staff who took a picture of us. hope u enjoyed today. ❤️

3.2k likes 500 comments

⤿ yn.ln : i LOVED EVERYTHING ABOUT TODAY. thankyouuu 🥹🥹 it was perfect ❤️

⤿ reply to yn.ln @ gojo.s : are u sure yn cause i think museums are boring

⤿ reply to gojo.s @ geto.s : pls dont mind him

⤿ yuhaibara : CUTEST COUPLE

yn.ln suprised boyfie with a vacation to Malaysia 💕💕

2.6k likes 890 comments

⤿ yuhaibara : have a safe flight!!!

⤿ shoko.ii : how come u never surprise me with one?

⤿ reply to shoko.ii @ yn.ln : oo soon after im back bb 😉

⤿ nkento : thank you, so much sweetheart ❤️

comment liked by yn.ln

nkento my plus one forever.

3k likes 678 comments

⤿ yn.ln : THATS RIGHT 🥰🥰

comment liked by nkento

⤿ gojo.s : no way nanami getting a girl before me fuck

⤿ reply to gojo.s @ geto.s : bitchless hoe

⤿ shoko.ii : pls stfu @ geto.s , gojo.s dont ruin their moment

⤿ yuhaibara : im so happy seeing u two happy 🥹❤️

comment liked by yn.ln , nkento

yn.ln my darling’s favourite bakery closed down so we baked our own 🫡🫡

2.1k likes 150 comments

⤿ nkento : it was burned, btw.

⤿ shoko.ii : god me when

⤿ itadoriyuji: I WANT SOME 🙋🙋🙋

⤿ gojo.s : i’ll admit it, u guys are so cute 😞😞

to the anon who requested nanami HEHEHEHE hope u liked it tho 🫰🏼🫰🏼 had fun again(3). likes and reblogs appreciated! 💕💕 pls be kind to me. needa study.. byebye

read my other version’s here!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smau #nanami kento smau #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x y/n #lily writes! ೀ⋆｡˚

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tikosblogg · 3 months ago

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My Brothers Best Friend..

Summary: Noah is your brother’s best friend, that you happen to have a huge crush on.

Warning: smut….thats all, with some plot tho.

A/N: Bestfriend Noah is my number one trope, but gotta love brothers Bestfriend too😅❤️ this is the hair I imagine Noah with in this.

As people shuffled from one table to the next I sat at our usual spot, at our favorite lunch spot in town, my heart racing as I glimpsed at the love of my life, Noah Sebastian Davis striding over with effortless confidence, his inked arms moving in rhythm with his laughter. His hair falling around his dark eyes, and every time he flashed that charming smile, it left me breathless.

“Hey, Kitty” he called out, his voice teasing, as he ruffled my hair. I rolled my eyes, trying to mask the fluttering in my stomach. To everyone else, it might seem like just a nickname. But to me, it felt like a secret between us, a small bond forged in the teasing that had become routine.

“Don’t call me that,” I whined, patting down my hair trying to keep my tone flat, but I could feel the corners of my mouth betraying me, threatening to break into a smile.

“Aw, come on!” Noah leaned against the table, his tattoos on display like a gallery of artistry. “It’s cute.”

“Not cute. Annoying,” I shot back, although I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. I didn’t know how to explain to him that every time he called me “Kitty,” my heart raced, my panties dampened and I felt everything shift into a different dimension.

My twin brother Tyler, seated across from me, smirked knowingly. “He’s just messing with you, Katy. You know how he is.”

“Yeah, well tell him to pick on someone his own size!” I snapped, though my tone was lighthearted.

Noah laughed, a rich, deep sound that made the corners of my stomach flutter. “But you’re the funnest target!” He poked a fork into my plate playfully, stealing a piece of my lunch. “And admit it, you love the attention.”

“Ha yeah..,” I muttered, more to myself than to him. The truth was, I loved this attention too much. It was infuriating and intoxicating all at once. I watched as Noah leaned over the table, a mischievous glint in his eyes, clearly enjoying our playful banter.

“See?” he said, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “Admitting it is the first step. Next, we’ll work on accepting it.”

Before I could retort, he waggled his eyebrows in that infuriatingly adorable way of his, and I felt heat bloom in my cheeks again. I couldn’t help it – he was beautiful, all sharp angles and easy laughter, covered in stories told through ink.

Tyler asked for the check, signaling that he’s ready to get the hell out of here, Noah stood up and shared a knowing glance with me. “we’re rehearsing tomorrow at my place, you should come with Ty. I’ll show you some new songs we’ve been working on, I need more opinions.”

My heart did a little jump. I had been to his rehearsals with Tyler before, where the music pulsed through me, and the electric energy of the band’s passion radiating off him. I loved watching him lose himself in the music, his eyes lighting up as he sang.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said noncommittally, though the flutter in my chest made me want to say yes immediately.

Noah looked at me long enough that I felt my heart race again. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

“Fine!” I threw my hands up, relenting. “I’ll come, but only if you promise not to call me ‘Kitty’ the entire time.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Not happening, kitty.”

As he walked over to the front counter with Tyler, I couldn’t shake the hopeful feeling blooming inside me. Noah was my brother’s best friend, and there were boundaries I probably shouldn’t cross, yet this connection between us felt electric and alive.

I reclined on my bed, scrolling aimlessly through my phone It was a quiet, typical evening at home for me. The sunlight poured through the half-closed curtains, casting a gentle glow on the pale pink walls of my room. The day had been uneventful, and I found myself daydreaming much more than scrolling through social media posts.

Suddenly, I heard two deep, familiar voices yelling from downstairs, their laughter piercing through the tranquility of my sanctuary. Curiosity turned my laziness into movement; I dropped my phone down to my chest, my heartbeat quickening. What on earth was happening? Before I had the chance to investigate, my bedroom door swung open, swinging nearly off its hinges. I let out a startled shriek.

Standing in the doorway were Tyler and Noah, the two most chaotic forces in my life. Tyler’s expressive face was full of mischief, and Noah—gorgeous, tattooed Noah—grinned widely, the corners of his lips curling up as if he had a secret that only I could unveil.

“Surprise!” They yelled, almost in unison.

In a flash, Noah leaped onto my bed, landing right on top of me. I was engulfed in a storm of laughter and confusion as I was instantly pinned down by Noah’s hands, his fingers darting into my sides, tickling me mercilessly. I squirmed beneath him, half-giggling, half-screaming, my laughter echoing in the confines of my room.

“Tyler, help!” I gasped between bursts of laughter.

But Tyler merely bounced up and down on the edge of my bed, brandishing a pillow like a sword, and began swatting at me with it. “You can’t escape! This is what you get for being moody towards us all day!”

Amidst the chaos, I felt the familiar fluttering in my stomach when Noah’s fingers brushed my skin, an electric warmth that set my cheeks ablaze. There was nothing more maddening than feeling trapped under Noah while knowing the reason behind my blushing cheeks had nothing to do with the tickling. As he caught my gaze, there was a moment—just a moment—where I thought he might be having the same thoughts. But then I was thrown back into the whirlwind of laughter as they finally relented and let me sit upright, gasping for breath.

"Okay, okay! What do you want?” I managed to ask, still catching my breath.

“We’re ordering pizza and picking up some beers to watch the UFC fight tonight, and we obviously need someone to help us make fun of the guys getting punched in the face,” Tyler announced, a cheeky grin plastered across his face. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

I raised an eyebrow, pretending to contemplate. “Pizza and UFC?”

“Uh-huh,” Tyler chimed in, nudging Noah with his elbow, earning an exaggerated eye roll from him.

“Join us, Kitty,” Noah said, his voice low and inviting, making my heart pitter-patter against my ribcage.

Finally, I nodded, unable to resist their playful enthusiasm. “Alright, I’m in.”

The boys whooped and hollered, and it was as if my protestations didn’t matter at all. They bounded out of my room like the glimmering stars out of my reach, leaving me with the heady blend of embarrassment and giddiness.

Once they departed, I leaned back against my bed, taking a moment to collect my jumbled thoughts. I couldn't remember a time when Noah’s presence didn’t invoke butterflies in my stomach. He was everything I admired—incredibly talented, with his music echoing through our quiet neighborhood from the garage two houses down from our home. Sometimes I’d eavesdrop on their band practicing, losing myself in his raspy yet melodic voice. Those moments felt like brief glimpses into the life I wished I could share more intimately.

The playful bickering between Tyler and Noah brought a smile to my face as I dressed quickly, donning my favorite band tee and a pair of comfy jeans. I didn’t want to look too made-up — I just wanted to be comfortable around them. The anticipation of spending the evening with Noah and my brother filled my head with daydreams of laughter and joy. It also brought the slightest hints of anxiety; what if Noah tried to talk to me while Tyler was distracted? What if I accidentally blurted out how I felt?

“Do you ever stop thinking?” I muttered to myself as I ran a brush through my hair. Perhaps that was my problem—overthinking everything.

I skipped down the stairs, joining the boys just as they returned with a stack of cheese pizzas and a case of beer. Noah looked up and caught my eye, flashing that breathtaking smile that could light up the darkest corners of my worries.

“Look who decided to join us! Katy finally freed herself from her phone.” Tyler teased, shooting me a playful wink.

“Yup, I’m here for the pizza,” I said, smirking.

“Good, because I’m starving!” Noah replied, plopping down on the couch. I settled into the space beside him, my stomach flipping nervously, but my heart raced with a euphoric thrill.

As evening wore on, laughter filled the room, intertwining with the excitement of the fight on the screen. There was a playful dynamic between Tyler and Noah that pulled me into their world, and I loved every second of it — especially being so close to Noah.

It wasn’t until he leaned towards me, sharing popcorn and a honeyed comment about a knockout punch, that I felt my heart race again. His arm brushed against mine, sending shockwaves through me, and I glanced sideways, catching a glimpse of him studying me for a split second. The moment felt suspended in the air, fragile yet electric. A thrill surged through me, whispering that maybe, just maybe, the butterflies I felt weren't one-sided..

My brother was the life of any party, but tonight he was immobilized in the recliner, a sixth beer consuming him like a heavy blanket. I couldn’t suppress the chuckle that escaped my lips as I watched him and the way he was sprawled out, snoring softly, blissfully unaware of the world spinning around him.

The living room was engulfed in darkness, save for the flickering light of the television, the only witness to the silence that enveloped the house. My heart raced as I shifted my gaze to Noah, who was sitting beside me. His tattooed hands rested casually on his thighs, the dim light showcasing the intricate designs that danced along his skin. I often wondered what stories each tattoo told, but my own story was simpler. I watched Noah, admiring the way he simply existed.

Awkwardness washed over me. My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my shirt as I glanced over at him, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Should I say something? Do something? With Tyler out for the count, my usual social safety net was gone, leaving me feeling exposed, vulnerable. Maybe the best course of action was to get up and distract myself; I stood up abruptly, shaking off the nerves that crept up on me.

“I’m gonna clean up,” I announced, more to fill the silence than anything else. I walked toward the kitchen, my heartbeat thudding loudly in my ears. I wasn’t afraid of the dark, but with only the glow of the TV behind me, the shadows felt alive, wrapping around me like a second skin. I focused on the trash can, tossing in the empty beer cans and the remnants of our late-night snacks, but my mind wasn’t on that. It was racing somewhere else.

Suddenly, I heard shuffling behind me. Startled, I spun around, half-expecting an intruder. Instead, it was Noah, slipping into the kitchen like a shadow. I huffed out a laugh, hand clutching my chest as I felt the adrenaline course through me.

“You scared me,” I said, mustering a teasing tone, though the truth was my heart raced for entirely different reasons. He gave a small, sheepish smile that sent flutters racing through my stomach.

“Sorry,” he replied quietly, his voice low and soothing. My cheeks heated as he reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The simple act sent electrifying shivers down my spine, and I nearly forgot how to breathe.

His gaze bore into me, filled with an intensity that made the world around us fade away. He stepped closer, invading my personal space in a way that made my throat dry. I looked up at him, suddenly feeling small and fragile under the weight of his presence.

“What’s wrong, kitty?” His voice dropped to a whisper, and that simple nickname for me danced like a feather against my skin. I found myself frozen in place, staring at him, at those dark eyes that held unsaid promises and secrets. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, the kind I had only ever read about in stories.

“I—uh…” My words stuttered out, falling flat as I felt a rush of heat wash over me. In that moment, I could barely think straight. My heart pounded, thrumming against my ribcage as I stood there, caught in a moment that felt suspended in time.

Noah shifted slightly, the warmth radiating off him pulling me in like a moth to a flame. His fingers danced along my lips, tracing a path that set my nerves ablaze. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he breathed, the words wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

His voice, low and husky, ignited something deep within me, something I had kept hidden beneath layers of shyness and uncertainty. I whimpered, both in surprise and in longing. I wanted to reach out and pull him closer, to bridge the divide that felt both exhilarating and terrifying, but instead, I stood still, swept away by the gravity of the moment.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, he pulled back, that boyish grin blooming on his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he winked, that familiar spark in his eyes still illuminated by our connection. And with that, he vanished back into the living room, leaving me behind in the dark kitchen, breathless.

When I took a moment to collect myself, I leaned against the cold countertop, my heart still racing. The encounter played over and over in my mind, each detail electrifying me like a surge of caffeine. Noah had chosen to reach out, to bridge the gap between us, and my shyness suddenly felt like a hurdle I was desperate to overcome.

What had just happened? Did he really mean what he said? The thought sent my mind reeling. I could only hope that he did, that behind those tattoos and carefree laughter, he felt the same pull toward me that I had felt toward him.

The soft glow of the setting sun filtering through my curtains cast a warm golden hue across the room. Everything felt surreal—my thoughts tangled like the fairy lights draped around my bedside. I had spent the entire afternoon consumed with worry, anxiety pulsing through me like a restless current. I decided not to go to Noah’s band practice with Tyler today. After what had happened between us last night, I could hardly bear the thought of being around him.

I flung myself onto my bed, a flurry of sheets and pillows engulfing me. The warmth of the memory rushed back: how his deep voice had murmured in my ears, “what’s wrong Kitty?,” and how his gaze had felt like fire, igniting something within me that I had desperately tried to keep contained. All night, I had replayed the fantasy of his lips against mine, imagining the taste of him, the softness contrasted with the rough edges of his skin. I buried my face in my pillow, smothering a small whimper. This was torture.

The clock on my wall read 6 PM. I knew their practice should be over soon, but it felt like a lifetime ago that I decided to skip out. Anxiety coiled in my stomach, squeezing tightly. With no other options in sight, I padded into the bathroom. The shower washed away the weight of my thoughts, leaving only the comforting sound of water cascading around me.

After a thoroughly long soak, I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped into my room, feeling slightly lighter—a moment of respite, perhaps, but short-lived. My heart nearly stopped when I saw him: Noah, sitting on the edge of my bed, clad in his usual black hoodie that hugged his powerful form, the tattoos peeking out like art pieces on a stark canvas on his throat. He had an annoyed look on his face, and I couldn’t help but let out a small shriek of alarm, hand flying to my chest.

“You have to stop scaring me like that!” I huffed, heart racing as I registered his intense scrutiny. He didn’t respond. Instead, his gaze lingered on me, and I felt a flush creep up my cheeks. I awkwardly stood at the edge of the bathroom door, half embarrassed, half entirely captivated.

“Why didn’t you come with Tyler?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling through the space, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

��I… I was tired,” I managed to stutter, avoiding his gaze. But I felt him watching me, studying me—all of me. There was something almost predatory in the way he was looking at me, like I had become the only thing he could see in the world. I could feel a knot of tension tightening in the air, and it was thick enough to cut with a knife. Noah didn’t seem convinced.

“Really?” His brow raised in disbelief, and he motioned me towards him with his fingers, a simple yet commanding gesture. I walked cautiously, my heart racing and instinct screaming to turn back. As I approached, he grabbed my hips, pulling me to stand between his thighs. There was something intoxicating about the closeness, something electrifying as our bodies aligned and we nearly became face to face.

“I’ll ask you one more time.” he murmured, his hands sliding up under the towel, brushing against the bare skin of my hips. Time seemed to hold its breath.

The reality of the situation hit me, ambushing all my reasoning. “Noah…,” I whispered, but I didn’t know what I was trying to say. He was so close, my skin tingling as I realized how dangerously little space there was between us. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to kiss him, to feel the soft warmth of his lips against mine.

“Why didn’t you come?” he repeated, his tone more insistent now, tinged with an awareness of the game we were playing. His hands paused on my hips, the tension coiling tighter, as he searched my eyes for an answer.

I weighed my options. I could tell him the truth—that I was terrified of my feelings, the longing that turned into a burning urge whenever he was near. Or I could gather my courage…and show him.

In a sudden rush of bravery, I leaned forward and pulled him into a heated kiss, our lips crashing together with a passionate urgency that had been building for far too long. It was as if a dam had broken, and the secret yearning that I had held within was finally free.

He responded immediately, his hands tightening around my waist as he deepened the kiss. I melted into him, feeling his warmth envelop me, and my heart raced even faster. It was chaotic and beautiful, every nerve in my body alight with electricity. I could taste the ink and warmth of his skin, both sweet and forbidden.

We pulled apart, breathless and eyes wide. Noah’s dark eyes searched mine, a mix of surprise and desire flickering across his face. He slowly dragged my towel off of me, letting it fall at our feet. I gasped, my cheeks flaring with heat, but he pulled me down onto him, straddling his lap, as he pulled me into another kiss that felt frantic, but also exhilaratingly perfect.

I melted into him, kissing him back with a fervor that surprised even me. I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped my lips as he ran his hands down my back, gripping my ass. He ground my core into his hardening length, as he grunted in pleasure.

His lips left mine, trailing gentle kisses down my jaw and to my throat. I moaned his name, gripping his hair in my fingers, the overwhelming sensation washing over me like a tide.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long, Kitty,” he murmured against my skin, his breath sending shivers cascading down my spine. “Me too.” I whispered, not believing that this was finally happening.

Before I could think anything else, he twisted us around tossing me onto my back. He pulled off his hoodie, before crawling up the bed between my legs. His big hands gripped the insides of my thighs, pushing them apart as far as they’d go.

“Fuck kitty, your pussy is fucking perfect.” I whined at his vulgar words, silently begging him to touch me. He leaned down, biting the inside of my thigh his cheek lightly brushing my swollen clit. “Fuck Noah please.”

He smiled up at me, settling onto his stomach. “I’ve got you baby.” without another word, his tongue met my clit, as he softly flicked it over and over. I moaned, softly bucking my hips against his face. He pulled back, one of his hands slid up, gripping my hip, as his other softly rubbed down my slit.

He rubbed two of his fingers around my dripping hole, before slowly sliding them deep inside of me. I gasped at the stretch, his long fingers hitting the perfect spot. “Fuck noahhh….please.” I begged, already missing his mouth. He leaned back down, sucking my clit softly.

My fingers flew back into his hair tugging on it hard, as he groaned against me. “You gonna cum for me kitty?” I nodded, crying out as he pumped his fingers harder. “Oh fuck yes yes yes..” I babbled like an idiot, fully riding his face and fingers at this point.

Before I knew my orgasm was flooding my body. I whined his name, as my thighs tensed around him. “Ohhh fuck good girl…..just like that.” He groaned, as he continued fucking me through it. He slowly pulled out of me, before sucking my release off his fingers.

He hovered back over me, kissing me. Our tongues gliding across each other. A loud ringing interrupted us, as we pulled away. Noah pulled his phone from his pocket, as he stayed hovering over me. He answered with a smirk on his face. “What’s up Ty?”

My heart stopped, as I tried pushing Noah off of me, as if Tyler could somehow see us through the phone. Noah smiled before gripping my throat, and pinning me to the bed. I fought to keep my mouth closed, trying not to moan out loud.

“Yeah she’s just drying her hair right now, we’ll be there soon.” His eyes never left mine, as he smiled down at me. I softly whimpered, as his fingers tightened slowing down the blood flow to my brain making it fuzzy. I could feel myself getting wet all over again.

“Yeah she’s fine, just said she’s tired. She definitely looks exhausted.” He chuckled down at me. “Don’t worry she finished, we’re on our way.” He hung up the phone, putting it back in his pocket, releasing my throat, as he placed a gentle kiss to my lips.

“We have to go meet the guys, they wanna go get dinner. They sent me here to get you.” I couldn’t help the slight pout on my lips, from not getting to feel him inside of me fucking my brains out. He stood up laughing down at me. “Go get dressed, we’ll finish this later.”

He left my room, as I sat there dumbfounded. Noah Sebastian….the guy I’ve been in love with for two years….my brother’s best friend…just ate me out…..and said we aren’t finished. I couldn’t help the excitement that filled my body. I can’t fucking wait.

#noah sebastian #bad omens #badomensimagines #noah sabastian smut #noahsebastiancult #bad omens cult #imagines #bad omens band #bad omens smut #nick folio #joakim jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo

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hannieehaee · 1 year ago

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18+ / mdi

content: bickering, some modern family references (just names n stuff), smut, penetrative sex, f reader, riding, tit play (??) idk he just likes ur tits, etc.

a/n: this is kinda meant to be a modern family au based on haley and andy's first meeting so theres some references to the show (just fyi) except this ends as smut 🫡 can also be read as nanny!seokmin and richbrat!you tho

wc: 1370

masterlist

modern family au where you, ditzy and careless granddaughter of rich business owner, incidentally meet your family's new manny!seokmin while sneaking into your grandfather's house for some alone time by the pool. you grab a few beers, knowing your grandfather and his wife probably wont be back for a while when you hear someone clear their throat behind you. startled, you drop the glass bottles on the floor and turn around to see who the hell is in your supposedly-empty grandfather's house.

you're taken aback as soon as you meet his eyes. pretty boy your age in what's supposed to be a place only your family had access to ? you wont complain, but you're still pretty bummed about the wasted beer.

the first words out of his mouth are to scold you. great. yet another person to get in your way just when you're re trying to relax away from your overbearing family. but wait, you think, you still have no idea who this man is.

"who are you?", you question as he leans over to clean up the bottles you had broken (the bottles he broke, if anyone asked you).

"no. who are you?", he gives as rebuttal. "mr pritchet didnt say anyone would be here today. are you alex or __?" he says, cutely tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy, making your heart melt role your eyes.

"im alex," you lie, knowing your sister wouldnt get in trouble for this anyways. "now my question."

"i'm your grandfather's new manny," he replies with a boyish smile, stretching his free hand towards you.

"you're not manny. i know manny and you look nothing like him," you say frowning, knowing this is totally not your uncle manny.

"oh, you're __. i'm seokmin. the new male nanny," he says in a tone that makes you think he mightve meant it as an insult .. you choose to ignore it, instead looking at his arms as he continues to wipe the broken glass. why hadnt you noticed his arms earlier ?

"i'm sorry, but im gonna have to tell your grandfather that you broke glass near the pool," he interrupts your thoughts as he finishes picking up the broken glass.

fuck. you just got out of being grounded, you cant have your mom know you snuck into your grandpa's house again, specially for day-drinking (you're over 21 now, whats the big issue?!).

you panic, so you go for the first thing that comes to mind.

"do you really have to do that, seokmin?", you flutter your lashes at him, untying the top of your bathing suit cover and pushing up your barely-covered tits for him to see.

he looks down, momentarily forgetting what he was talking about, but quickly looks back up. "thats not gonna work, your grandparents warned me about you," he says as he looks away from your chest.

he already bit the hook. there's really nothing to lose now.

you take slow steps towards him, making sure to sway your hips as you do so, placing your hands on his shoulders as soon as you're close enough. "listen. this can stay between us, right? you've already cleaned everything up. there's no reason we need to waste our time in telling him how you caught me off guard and made me drop the glass, is there?", you rub your hands up and down his chest, slowly unbuttoning his shirt while he stands still, letting you continue your actions.

"m-me?! y-YOU broke it! you're not even supposed to be h-" he cuts himself off when you get tired of his talking and decide to just rip the rest of the buttons off.

"listen to me, seokmin. we can waste the next hour arguing about who did what while we wait for my grandpa to get here," you start pressing your mouth to his ear, almost giving him the attention he really wants, but not fully. "or we could go to the guest room and i could give you a little something in return for your silence. wouldn't that be more fun?"

with one more look from him, you find yourself moments later sitting atop him in one of the mansion's guest rooms, bouncing on top of him with your back facing his chest. his eyes were glued to your ass, with his hands groping your hips tightly as he furrowed his eyebrows in pleasure. never would he have expected that the airheaded girl his new employers warned him about would be this pretty and feel this good wrapped around him.

"fuck," he exhales, rubbing his hands up and down your back, ultimately landing on your ass, melding his hands unto the soft skin. "b-baby fuck. slow down."

"but minnie .. my grandparents could be back any second. besides, you're doing me a favour. it'd be mean of me to not make it up to you, wouldnt it?", you put on a sweet voice for him as you bounce faster, also wanting to reach your high as the pretty boy impaled you.

frustrated at not being able to see you, he uses those beefy arms you were eyeing earlier to lift you up and turn you around on top of him, now looking into your eyes as you held onto his shoulders for support. looking at his pretty eyes staring up at you with softness despite the lewdness of the act made you feel crazy. feeling addicted to the way he looked at you, you decided to give him a show.

"fuck, minnie. feel so fucking good," you moaned, dragging your hands up to your tits to play with them, rubbing your nipples in a way that had you rolling your eyes back. "dont you wanna help me, minnie? be a good boy and put your hands on me."

he whined at your words, sitting up a bit and replacing your hands with his. pinching at your nipples, he made you cry out loud and rub yourself even harder, now catching an angle that allowed your clit to rub against him. feeling drunk on your enthusiasm, he moved one of his hands to your hip in order to guide you, moving his mouth to bite and lick at your nipples, making you roll your eyes back.

both your ends approached, now with you maniacally bouncing on him while his mouth stayed stuck to your chest, alternating breasts to suck and whine into. feeling completely cock drunk, you increased the intensity of your movements, leading yourself into a mind-blowing orgasm with him following soon after, his moans muffled by your chest.

you spent the next five minutes softly cleaning each other up and getting rid of the evidence (dirty sheets, condom, etc) before anyone arrived home, all while shyly exchanging glances at each other. it was unlike you to feel shy when interacting with a guy (i mean, you did just seduce your grandparents new nanny within minutes of knowing him), but there was something about his good-boy attitude and soft demeanor towards you that just drew you to him. that, and how easy on the eyes he was.

your thoughts were promptly interrupted by him quietly speaking up "listen, i know i'm probably overstepping and just embarrassing myself by saying this but, i kind of uh. i kind of felt a connection there. i think you mightve even felt it too? would you like to maybe see where this goes? i could take you out, or if not we could start off as friends too, you know? or maybe this again? wait, no. i'm not suggesting that you should uh- but if you want to! i mean, whatever you want! it's just tha-" he continues to ramble, clearly losing track of what his original question was.

just like him, you interrupt his monologue by grabbing onto his face, making him stop mid sentence and look at you. "yes," you giggle. "we can go out seokmin. i'll know where to find you," and with that, you leave him with a peck and a wink as you exit the room, successfully leaving the house before anyone arrived, knowing you'd be coming back whenever possible to get some alone time with your grandparents' pretty manny you were now planning to make yours.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen fanfic #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt smut #seokmin smut #seokmin fanfic #seokmin x reader #dk fanfic #dk smut #dk x reader #dk oneshot

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syeren · 5 months ago

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HOW ARE THEY LIKE IN REAL LIFE? — JJK MEN & WOMEN.

SYEREN; mayhaps my 12 AM thoughts… but what if the characters from jjk get plopped down into the real world? whatcha think they might be like?

Gojo — 五条悟

in all honesty…

he’s givin frat

LMAOOOOOOOO

or a rich kid with really successful parents who are either a)

architects

or b)

business owners

he also gives me the vibe that if you ask him how rich he actually is, he’ll just respond with

“i’m living comfortably xx 🫶” 😭😭😭

complains about how his body reacts to things like pollen or how his eyes get too dry throughout the day— so, he carries eye drops, lozenges, and those ointments sniffer thingys.

he also gives me the type where he looks not so concerned about maintaining good grades in academics… but he’s just NATURALLY smart

does that make sense?

he’ll just chug energy drinks to pull 3 consecutive all nighters before a final exam, and BOOM… flying colours

decides to opt for his own business and annoys utahime with how much bank he’s making

love language slowly switched from words of affirmation to gift giving, thus showering his friends with lavish gifts

right now at this point in time, he’s just berating all his friends with how much money he has

Geto — 夏油傑

minus the whole ordeal that happened

he looks the type who would ACTUALLY get his life together 😭😭

occasionally parties, still regularly studies and does his part in group projects

he would go for philanthropy or mayhaps sociology

gojo is his one and only best friend and classmate that he somehow ALWAYS gets stuck with in every class

after graduation, he’s taking a break for himself and is travelling the world

during one of his trips in thailand, he calls up gojo to ask why tf he’s bragging abt his wealth

Nanami — 七海建人

he’s never escaping the business world i fear LMAOOOOO

he really DOES give business i’m sorry pookie 😞

BUT, his OWN business where he’s his own boss and doesn’t have to work under someone else

he would much prefer that either way

but yeah, working class adult, has a dozen pack of beer or sangria wine in his own personalized wine cellar

often competes with gojo’s business, but decides to make a partnership in the end due to gojo’s persuasion

he’s also stuck in his office currently, looking at his phone in bewilderment to screenshots of gojo’s bank acc that gojo himself sent

Yuji — 虎杖悠仁

average teenager

he partakes in the track team at his school and likes to exercise ALOTTT

gym buddy in question? todo

i feel like his guilty pleasure is watching mukbangs to torture himself 😭😭

he ends up being megumi’s roommate after a long time of convincing.

he tries to keep his side clean and tidy but it always ends up being an organized mess

right now, he just came back home from the gym with todo and is in choso’s apartment watching a horror series

Yuta — 乙骨憂太

would you look at that?! average college student

LMAOOOO

definitely majors in either a) science or b) math

NOOOO WAIT

or c) computer science

overall normal kid!

i have no other words, he is also living his life to his fullest, but is very stressed out due to some big projects and tests he has coming

performance anxiety 😞

Megumi — 伏黒恵

also another average teenager

he’s a bit more toned down tho

lil’ meg over here gives me the vibe that he also knows what he’s doing and is very present in life

he’s on top of his hw, does his chores, has a comfortable room that’s neat enough for him…

he also gives me the vibe that he does NOT GAFFFF !!!!!

protect my own peace 🙏 kind of guy

in college he makes the silent regret of dorming with yuji, the complete OPPOSITE to his own tastes but thats twin 🤞

“yuji, could you take out the trash to the lobby? it’s garbage collection today.”

“what? why me?”

“because i have a meeting through zoom with my classmates”

“then do it after?”

“yuji, my zoom call is two hours, taking out the trash will take around five minutes."

"it's actually a five minute walk down to the lobby, and another five minutes back up... w-wait, why are you holding up your slipper?"

ANYWAYS, he’s havin a good time chilling with his friends 😋

Choso — 脹相

he’s for SURE in a biker club

rides a kawasaki ninja h2r with yuki from time to time

other than that, decided to work after hs and he works in a tattoo shop next door to mechamaru’s pub

big scary big brother vibes compared to golden retriever yuji 😞🙏

currently, he’s lounging in his apartment with yuki, yuji, todo, and megumi

Inumaki — 狗巻棘

he's too busy spending time with me unfortunately <3

im kidding

maybe not

ANYWAYYYYYYY, i feel like inumaki would have a hobby in pc games.

he would absolutely ROCK valorant

whenever he plays horror games he FORCES the rest of the squad to play with him because he's a pussy scaredy-cat

in his spare time he likes to do track or go on long runs whenever he feels stressed out from uni

forgets to shower sometimes after he runs, so he fucking reeks the day after

he's majoring in comp-sci

speaking of runs, look at him go! he’s on one right now

Sukuna — 両面宿儺

the most annoying and narcissistic man

AND SO MEAN TOO?!

yknow those tiktok comments or ig reel comments you see? yeah, those ones.

that’s him. he’s the one making those actually.

very misogynistic, controlling AND argumentative

he swears on the history of the world wars and somehow always brings it up during conflict? 💀

believes mental health is fake and violence can solve everything

prolly wholeheartedly disagrees with women’s rights with his ancient ass mentality

he’s preparing for an argument stream against mahito 😭

Todo — 東堂葵

GYMMM RATTTTT

ALWAYS HOGGING THE MACHINES NO MATTER WHATTTT

only talks about fitness and nutrition, girls, and what his plans are for the weekend.

“nah bro, i’m all natty rn,” “i don’t use creatine,” “what?! i’m not on roids dude! just the chicken breast and asparagus with rice”

he’s also the type to look at someone a little too long at the gym, or outside

or anywhere, in fact

studies kinesiology

hope i spelt that right 😁🤞

Mechamaru — 与幸吉

in my reality, he and miwa would be a couple

THERE I SAID IT!

he would genuinely try to be a good boyfriend while bartending in a dingy pub just two blocks away from their shared apartment.

he would be the type to spam miwa msgs on his break

lowkey wants a tattoo done by choso so he could swipe that discount 😋

Mahito — 真人

he’s known on the internet for being a controversial streamer on twitch

he also has such a shitty mic that when he screams it cuts off the sound

ALWAYS has his shirt off during the stream 😭😭

he would say the most out of pocket statements and without context, it would be the most HORRIFIC thing

so, people would clip that and post it 😟 thus, he gained a large following bc of those statements

Miwa — 三輪霞

raves about cats and dogs to her bf and after a long, agonizing wait… they finally adopted one from the pound and this is all she has been doing

taking care of her animal child, and man child that is mechamaru

I FEEL LIKE MIWA WOULD ABSOLUTELY LOVE ANIMALS SO THIS IS WHAT SHE DECIDES TO GO FOR IN COLLEGE

with a minor in marine biology too :3

Shoko — 家入硝子

i would catch her at a pub or a bar somewhere either drinking gin and tonic on lighter day, and more heavier days she would go for whiskey

if NOT, then she’s in an back alley smoking before she needs to go back to her like… 20 hour shift as a nurse.

spends most of her time at home and scrolling on her amazon shopping cart to see what else she can buy to help her busy ass life

Maki — 禪院真希

similar to todo, but she gives me the vibe that she would train in both calisthenics and mma as a hobby

like hobby: all that stuff, and the other half is dedicated to working towards her degree in either a science like forensics or history.

she lives her life to the fullest on her terms!! really mia from social media and is training real hard everyday

right now, she’s with nobara on a shopping trip to the mall

(she did NOT wanna go, but she likes spending time with her bestie anyway)

Mai — 禪院真依

FASHION DESIGN I REPEAT FASHION DESIGN

when i first saw mai come on screen, i also did too jus a little bit

but her aura makes me imagine that she runs a tiktok account to post fit pics onto it, has so many pinterest boards dedicated to vintage or her new obsession— office siren outfits.

also has such a GOOD spread of pictures up on instagram, like she’s THAT girl

now, she’s currently studying fashion while scourging the internet for good statement pieces like red leather kitten heels to go along with her two-piece cropped blazer and mini skirt outfit.

Mei Mei — 冥冥

hmm… 😟

teacher vibes…

but like, those english teachers that only interact positively with the popular kids

PLSSS IM SORRY OKAY, THATS THE ONLY FACTOR ABOUT MEI MEI THAT REALLY CAUGHT ME OFF GUARDDDD

APART from that

actually good at her profession, and makes sure her class is fun

the type that does NAWT give two fucks abt late hw bc she complains that “the workload will double up on her anyway”

Utahime — 庵歌姫

bc of her personality as well as her easily irritated anger tolerance with gojo…

def a head master of a boarding school or an instructor for flight attendants

occasionally goes out for drinks with shoko, but only rants abt gojo bc of his dumbass

very good at her job, and often sees her alumni if she has time in her schedule

right now, she’s currently cooped up in her office filing out different paperwork and silencing her phone from gojo’s numerous screenshots of his bank acc 😭

Nobara — 釘崎野薔薇

the last of the bunch for average teenagers.

nobara DOES NOT give that much attention towards school, so she opts for a general of easier course— psychology being one, because everyone else is taking it so she thinks it’s easy. two, general studies.

you can find her ALWAYS OUT for some reason?!

she gains her energy by socializing and just being outside of the house in general 😭

says it’s a ‘waste of a day.’

she’s dragging around maki to push clothes into her arms that she deems acceptable and will look amazing on her

—

AN; SYEREN here! creds to @ kOmuuuug1xxx on x for the pic :3

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff

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scourgefrontiers · 8 months ago

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irt that tweet going around thats like a person being upset that an art piece they were rly proud of didnt get much love: here's my hot take. ppl are missing the point of the post.

its not a matter of op doing art for clout. its the fact that while yes loving ur art and doing it for fun is the most important thing, it is Extremely Fucking Silly to expect everyone to just be ok with not getting much or even NO positive feedback on their work.

i believe as artists we wouldnt get fucking ANYWHERE without support from others. you can say you do art 100% just for fun and for yourself, and while this may be the MAJORITY of the case, theres no way u can tell me u dont feel smth when someone says they like it too. we NEED positive feedback in order to keep going and thrive as artists. str8 up. telling ppl to "not care about likes/shares/attention" is..idk. it feels actually kind of shitty to me, ESPECIALLY when its coming from an artist who gets hundreds of notes on each piece. same energy as a rich person telling poor ppl "money doesnt buy happiness" imo. like ok if you really believe what ur saying why do u post ur own damn art. why do u not just keep it to urself if its just for you and just for fun.

"i post my art bc i love it and want to share it with others" ok so you agree that you feel good when u share ur art with others? that it feels good to know that ppl see ur art and find joy in it? that even tho its not "for attention" its still for positive human interaction?

idk. basically to me its not "op is whining bc their art didnt get notes :/" it's "op is rightfully feeling bad b/c they dont see any support for their art when support is kind of a necessity for healthy artistic growth"

anyway. thats my hot take✌️

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thehydraethereal · 8 days ago

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Outer Banks s4 opinions AND predictions (for part 2) POSTING THESE NOW BEFORE I SEE PART 2 (i had these in drafts for 3 weeks wtf)

spoilers ahead so do not interact if you haven't seen S4!!!

holy moly where do I even start from??!!!! I AM LIVING FOR THIS SEASON, HOW TF AM I SUPPOSED TO WAIT 3 MORE WEEKS FOR PART 2 AFTER 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 ENDING???

the MAIN thing i love is that its giving s1 vibes and I AM SO HERE FOR IT. also, they focused on each and every couple so nicely, it was heart warming to see them ahh !!! i used to HATE jiara, and even tho they still look like besties or literal siblings, i love them SO MUCH, they are adorableeee...IT IS UNHEALTY BUT IM ROOTING FOR THEMMM, the friends to lovers theme IS THERE AND YEAH- ADORABLE thats it lol

MY FAV COUPLE THO, JARAH !!! WOW- they're the most mature but chill couple and i love how they put all their hearts in the relationship (considering the shit storm they went through in the previous seasons) and I LOVE THE RING SCENE, UGHHH- but john b, dude, CHILL OUT with the thoughts of having children, U R A KID URSELF MY MAN !!!

Pope and Cleo? idk, love them but they're a bit akward (especially pope) but im looking forward to seeing how they'll develop.

MY MAN, RAFE CAMERON!!! here the issue starts and I HAVE A WHOLE MF PARAGRAPH ABT HIM IN S4.

Seems like the directors FORGOT he was a literal murderer, coke addict, schizophrenic man, obsessed to make his father happy, so obsessed that he tried to DROWN his OWN sister (after he shot her) out of jealousy, only that Ward preffered her over him...and now, um...he prepares the bag for a picnic on the beach? a bit (A FREAKING LOT) unrealistic to me. but i believe this is 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙚𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙢.

Rafe was so derranged BEFORE Ward died, now that he's dead? Rafe should've gone MAD, literally. But i think his peace is temporary and something will make the monster inside him come outside ragefully again (even tho my baby deserves the peace lol). And that 'something'? Sofia's so-called 'betrayal'.

Now yall hear me out on Sofia! SHE IS A QUEEN. this show helped me prove myself HOW MUCH OF A GIRLS' GIRL I AM bc i DEFENDED HER over Rafe (and rafe is the loml). I HATE the way he treats her when he's with his friends aka the Kooks. But behind the close doors? RAFE'S THE SWEETES OML. but dude, u should have the balls to JUST ADMIT U LIKE HER in front of those filthy, obnoxious rich kids.

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ifitmeanslosingyouthenno · 2 months ago

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au in which nathaniel is married to riko part 2 (part 1)

(like 2 people asked for this but lmao thats good enough for me)

i had to think hard about this ngl, i kinda just like leaving my thoughts open ended like that, and i had a choice, to like, be nice to neil

here is the opposite of that <3

tw for domestic abuse, manipulation, suicide attempt

neil doesn't truly remember what happens next, he just knows he's in a hotel room and he's in pain and he can barely open his eyes and he can see riko is right there in the room and neil just wants to cry and scream and go back and he doesn't want to be here

and riko is right fucking there and he's threatening neil and he's just going on and on about how much trouble he's been, and how much trouble he's going to be when they get back to new york and how riko wont ever let him slip away like that again

and then riko just fucking... stops, stops shouting, stops pacing, stops spitting things at neil, and he just cries and tells neil how much he has missed him all these years and he apologizes and he holds neil close despite the pain, despite the wounds, and he promises to be better, he promises he will take care of neil

no, not of neil

of nathaniel

and nathaniel, exhausted and terrified and hopeless and in agony, can do nothing but whisper to riko to take him home, even if the words taste like venom, even if there's nothing he wants to do more than throw up, even if there are tears rolling down his cheeks and blood covering his skin

because this is all there is for him right? neil josten wasn't real, his hopes and his friends and his family and his- no, andrew is not his anymore, none of the foxes are

neil josten's life isn't nathaniels

it never was

bc neil josten didn't exist in the first place and he never should have existed

meanwhile back in seattle (and what neil doesn't know), andrew felt guilt of all things, at seeing the look of heartbreak in neils face, of hope and despair and loss, so he forces himself to stop off the road not even a kilometer later (don't ask me about miles i have no idea how those work) and he kinda just hits his steering wheel in a sprout of anger but he cant make himself to go back just yet, so he calls aaron

aaron kinda just yells at him lol, bc he's been worried about neil himself all morning and him and kate are dying bc they are scared and they just want to know how neil is doing, and like aaron just makes andrew go back for neil while aaron gets there

except neil is gone

obviously, bc wtf andrew its been like half an hour where you expecting him to be waiting for you?

and when he asks around well, the cashier just knows, ah yes the fidgety redhead kid? oh yeah some rich asian guy in a mercedes picked him up, yeah they looked close, the asian guy even hugged him and basically left clinging off the readhead, yeah sorry buddy, they left like half an hour ago, why tho? is he in some kind of trouble?

and andrew just, loses it

the next few days are a blur for andrew, he knows wymack pulls some strings and with the help of the foxes and his own money they manage to get the recorded tapes from the security camera at the gas station and its grainy as shit and

and why the fuck is riko moriyama hugging neil?

how does riko even know him?

it doesn't make any sense, why is riko kissing neil, andrew’s neil, like there's no tomorrow??

why is neil leaving with him??

and why the fuck is riko posting a picture on instagram, ready to fucking come out and announce that he has a husband??

and why is that husband neil??

except its not neil, except riko says his husband is nathaniel, and well would you look at that?? nathaniel is nothing but a fucking liar, who didnt tell him that he's with someone else, who didn't even tell him his fucking name

andrew loses himself a little after that, even if he convinces himself that he's fine, that he even ended things with him, that neil is living the happy rich life with the richest and most popular man in exy, good riddance

(but andrew can never forget, not only the good things about the relationship, no, what he can never forget is neil- nathaniel's flinches, the way he would curl up into himself when someone spoke too loud, the fear in his eyes whenever he messed up at something, the quiet sadness when they- when they started being something, andrew and neil, and he confessed that he was scared of things changing, and he confessed that it was scary to open up to someone, the again implicit in his shaky voice)

(andrew can never forget the rage when neil confessed he wasn't in the mood for sex most times, and the confusion when andrew said they didn't have to have sex when it was a no, the rage at neil's soft whispered "i can say no?")

andrew can never shake off the feeling that something is so fucking wrong, but he convinces himself to stay the fuck out of it, that its none of his fucking business, that nathaniel can live his life however he fucking wants to, andrew doesn't need him, he never has (he's always been a good liar)

months go by, in which riko posts pictures of his perfect life with his perfect husband, who doesn't have social media accounts of his own bc he likes his privacy (then why is riko sharing his pictures-)

months go by where andrew gets drunk beyond relief, but he needs to keep his pro career to pay aarons tuition so he sucks it up and does the bare fucking minimum while making sure he doesn't get fired

aaron can never truly shake off the worry, he and katelyn were the ones who saw him when he arrived, beat up and terrified and so dangerously hurt, and how hard it was for him to open up and start to accept good things, kind things

so he keeps up with them, with rikos pictures and videos and stories, trying to find proof that there's nothing wrong there, trying to find a way to convince himself that no, he's making it all up bc he himself was abused by somone he loved and trusted, and he's just proyecting

but neil is too quiet, all respectful smiles and wrapping arms around himself, always wearing baggy clothing and turtleneck shirts

the smile never reaches his eye

aaron just cant help but worry for him, bc he cant worry for andrew anymore, not he doesn't want to worry about himself, not when he's ready to pretend nothing happened and wants to keep going like neil didn't even exist

its aarons day off, and it's been 8 months since he's seen neil when he gets a call from an unknown number and he answers expecting to hear from a colleague or a resident or a med student on shift at the hospital

what he doesn't expect is ragged breathing from the other line

"hello? who is this?" he almost hangs up when all he gets is silence and that faint sound of breathing for a full minute, but before he can he hears a sob

"im so sorry, i didn't- i didn't know who to call"

aarons heart stops, bc its neil, holy shit its neil and he asks if neil is okay, he asks if neil is safe, he asks what's going on

neil remains silent again for too long, and his voice is barely a whisper "i will be soon"

his heart drops to his stomach, fear, no, absolute terror, engulfing him, "neil what did you do"

silence and then "he got me prescribed valium"

his heart is beating too fast too fast he's going to have a heart attack, "neil, neil i need you to tell me how many pills you took"

that for some reason brings out a small giggle, "i dont, i didn't count, i just, I just swallowed them all"

"neil i need you to call 911"

"i dont want to do that"

"neil, please please call 911"

"i just, im sorry i called you, i just didn't want to be alone, i- andrew didn't pick up the phone"

aaron can feel the tears on his face, "neil please, just call 911, I'll, tell me where you are and i can come get you okay? you dont, you dont have to do this"

he takes a beat too long to answer, and he does with a sob "i cant take this anymore aaron, i can't- i can't stand living with him anymore, he won't let me go any other way"

"neil i promise I can get you help, legal help, we can get you away from him, you would never have to see him again, you would be safe"

neil is still crying, "it didn't work before, it, nothing works, nothing- this will make it better"

aaron is starting to hyperventilate, "neil, please just..."

"can you, can you tell andrew i didn't mean to fuck it up? i couldn't- i couldn't marry him without getting a divorce and I couldn't- i didn't want himto find me"

"neil you can tell him yourself, lets just call 911"

his words are slurring, he sounds so tired, "thank you for being such a, such a good friend aaron"

he's too quiet on the other line, aaron is fucking terrified, god he's crying and panicking, god what does he do what does he do

he puts the phone on speaker and texts kate who's just out getting takeout and god he really needs her right fucking now

thankfully, he hears the car come in the driveway and he runs down the stairs to meet her

the call is still going, but neil hasn't said anything

"neil?? are you still there?? NEIL??"

by the time kate opens the door, he's telling her to call 911, they're able to locate calls right?? even if neil hasn't answered, the call is active, thats enough right??

"i have someone on the line who i think is attempting suicide, i- i dont know where he is, and he isn't answering, but the call is still going"

its enough

"an ambulance is on its way, do you have any idea of what happened?"

"i think he overdosed on diazepam"

"you did great by calling us"

they can do nothing but sit in silence, call ongoing in aaron's phone, holding each other as they both cry and pray to a god aaron barely believes in that the ambulance gets there in time

he can't even read how much time has passed on the phone, when he's suddenly aware of noise on the other end of the line, what sounds like a door breaking, and then chaos

he can't distinguish what's happening, he doesn't know if they got there in time or not

"hello?? is someone there??"

"YES, yes is he alive? is he...?"

"he's alive, just barely, we gave him an antidote to reverse the effects and he's breathing, you did a great job sir"

"can you tell me where you're taking him? im in seattle but i will book a flight as soon as i can"

they tell him the name of the hospital, they tell him he will probably be there for a few days under suicide watch

before the paramedic ends the call he makes himself say, "can you make sure his husband doesn't see him? he's, he abuses my friend, he's the reason he took those pills"

the paramedic takes a deep breath, "can you tell me his name? the husband's?"

his voice trembles, "riko moriyama"

"i will personally make sure he doesn't have access to him"

"thank you"

the phone disconnects at last and through the tears, the first thing aaron does is book two flights for new york

one for him and one for katelyn

he hesitates, before rubbing his eyes free of tears and realizing andrew is in a game

he books a third ticket leaving a few hours later than his and kate's, grabs a bag and they're out the door in less than 5 minutes

he can do nothing to leave a voicemail for Andrew's phone, that he knows will destroy him and give kevin a headsup too, bc he might not be much, but he's all the support andrew is gonna have at the time

he prays to the god he's believing in a little bit more than he did an hour ago, and asks nothing more than for neil to be okay when they get to new york

did not mean for this to become longer than 2 parts oop

#i have no idea if 911 is able to track your phone but for this fic they can ajdkdk #aftg #all for the game #aftg fic #aftg headcanon #aftg hc #aftg au #aaron minyard #andrew minyard #neil josten

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opiopal · 2 months ago

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•All I wanted was bread•

(pt.3)

(hey! I apologize it took me so long to get this out! since the first two parts of this were posted my life randomly got really busy(a mix of some intense bed rotting, tech issues, work, and family issues.) BUT this isn't a vent post this is fanfiction RAHHHH!!!(tho ofc the moment I get serious about writing after a few years the fanfic writers curse went for my ankles.) (I will be attempting to include all seven brothers in this, though ofc mainly focusing on mc and mammon since they are indeed the intended couple. we will be seeing simeon and luke again ofc, they are very important to mc's fate in this. and of course a LOT of birds!! silly little creatures!!) (I do warn that at times some of the brothers may come off as bratty? mainly levi, which I want to explain thats only because I'm basing this more on how they were in the beginning of the OG game(not to say they were BRATTY but they were def something..) and I'm adding a little sprinkle of rich spoiled kid. so yeah! sorry for this long A/N.)

"WAIT"

the shout echoes off the walls as the room falls silent, the only thing heard was the flutter of wings from the crows sitting above. the tight grip on your hair loosens once again as the Lord in front of you stands baffled at the sudden interruption. from where you sit you can see the other lords looking equally as baffled. you crane your neck to look past the Lord of Corruption, and your eyes land on what appears to be the second born. you take in his appearance, from his soft white hair, perfect skin, his gorgeous blue eyes with specks of yellow- his clothing was just as his brothers, elegant but with a sense of danger to it. yet his top did not leave much to the imagination.. which you take note of as you watch his chest heave up and down as he catches his breath.

the full release of your hair snaps you out of your thoughts as you fall back onto sitting on the floor beneath you, wincing as your already scraped and bloody knees collide with the ground. out of the corner of your eye you could've sworn you saw the Lord of Fools face cringe at your pain.

he clears his throat and adjusts himself as he walks into the room, walking straight to the Lord of Corruption.

"Brother!- my dear, older brother." he sounded nervous, his eyes catch yours as confusion slowly hides any traces of fear or pain from your face. what in the world is he doing? "You know- it is just, baffling to me, that anyone would ever dare to disrespect you- especially with how giving you are." is he.. attempting to flatter him..? you quickly glance between him and his older brother, then back to his brother again as you see his face soften and his brows raise slightly- is it actually working?? "-and with just, how hard working you are. as a matter of fact- you work to hard. why dont you go and relax and I handle the punishment for this criminal."

………

"hm. well. I believe you'll come up with something.. sufficient. You go on ahead."

oh my god it actually worked?!

you and the other lord seem to share the same thought as his brows shoot up and he gives his older brother a grin, his nerves calming almost immediately.

"Of course I will!"

before you know it, his hands are suddenly gripped on to both of your arms, lifting you up like you weigh absolutely nothing and tucking you against his side awkwardly, your toes hardly even touch the ground with the awkward hold he has on you.

"they will be dealt with accordingly!"

the moment you both step out of the vast throne room he slams the doors shut, he sets you on the ground quickly as his hand drops down to gently hold your own. Then, in a hurry, he speed walks down the hall, practically dragging you along.

You struggle to keep up with his pace as you also struggle to process what in the world just happened- why did he rush in like that? why were those crows practically screaming? why is he now leading you through the palace- you're lead through multiple hallways, a single set of stairs, and another few hallways, in which all look to be a piece of art on their own somehow. With murals, gold and gems intended into the walls- even the floor looks like it’s worth more then you could make in hundreds of years!

eventually you're able to unscramble your mind enough to speak up. "I- excuse me- why did you-"

though you can hardly finish your question as he suddenly stops and turns to face you, his hands shooting up and firmly grip onto your shoulders, pulling you in close as his eyes burn into yours. he looked focus, his brows slightly furrowed as he took in each detail of your face, his eyes darting to your hair, then mouth, then nose, then ears, then back up again to your eyes. his mind is racing but you just can’t tell where to. Have you two met? there’s no possible way- if you’d met a lord you would remember- but the way his gaze washes over you, you can’t help but think otherwise.

his mouth opens, but quickly is cut off before he could even say anything by the sound of flapping wings. You feel something collide with the back of your head with a loud CAW. you feel as it tangles in your hair, quickly you reach back and pull the small body of a crow away from your head, the motion of your arms cause the Lord to remove his hands from your shoulders. you stare down at the familiar feathery friend. you adjust how your holding him, basically cradling him, to be careful to not accidentally hurt him “hello clever boy..” you mumble softly at you run your finger over the top of his tiny head. for a moment you almost forget where you are, quickly to turn your head back to the lord but pause as you now inspect his face, his cheeks were flushed red as his eyes dart between you and the crow, though once he makes eye contact with you he glances away again.

“That’s… one of my familiars”

he says quickly as he rests his hands on his hips, keeping his gaze to the wall to avoid making eye contact, your brows raise, looking down as the feathered fiend you’ve become so familiar with. you stare for a while before abruptly saying

”you were rich this whole time?? You little snake!”

The lord stares for a moment with his brows raised as the crow simply caws back at you without a single care. You were a little annoyed but despite it, you did come to love the little feathery creature in your arms. once again he goes to open his mouth, but unfortunately he can hardly even get past the word “I-“ before you both hear footsteps.

his arm shoots out and wraps around you, yanking you close quickly as he immediately tenses up. You also feel the hair on the back of your neck rise as your anxiety spikes. maybe it was the lord of corruption coming to make sure his brother was doing what’s he promised? Are you actually going to die here- the lord of fools doesn’t seem to want to hurt you-

but, instead of seeing the scowl of the man you just spat on, you see two familiar faces, specifically your brothers.

The three of your stare as Simeon and Luke stop in their tracks upon seeing you, as your shoulders loosen up upon seeing them. you had nearly forgotten all about the fact that Simeon was working here now, your mind was just so jumbled you could only focus on what was to come. You immediately notice how clean they both look, their hair is nearly brushed and there’s not a single hole in any item of clothing they had, their shoes were just the right size and their cheeks seemed much more filled out. you see Simeon’s face furrow in concern upon seeing you, you had changed a bit since he last saw you as well, you had lost some weight and was dirtier. Your clothes had gotten more worn down and the blood from your knees didn’t help as all to soothe the look on his face. without a second though you hand the crow over to the lord and run towards your brothers, Luke also makes a lunge towards you as you basically scoop him up into a large hug. as you hug him you hear soft sniffles, “Luke?” ”y-yes?” ”are you ok?”

you set him back down yet at the same time you can’t help but smile a little at him, using your thumb to wipe tears off his little face.

“yes! I mean, I just, I missed you so much!!”

“I missed you too,”

you give him another hug, though not as dramatic as the first. you sit up properly after a moment to hug Simeon as well, he pulls away and gives you a smile before furrowing his brows,

“Mc what are you doing here?”

“well.. i uh… it’s complicated,”

He gives you a look before the lord walks over to join you

“Oi, Simeon, how do you know them?”

“ah- well this is my younger sibling, Mc, the one I’ve spoken about before in the past,”

The lords face immediately scrunches, though softens as an idea washes over him, he puts a hand on Simeon’s shoulder.

“well, your sibling is marked down for execution,”

“excuse me!?”

you let out a gasp as concern and shock washes over Simeon, quickly shooting your hands down to cover Luke’s ears from the sudden news. why in the world would he say that!?

“well.. I’m sure it could be avoided if you voice your objections,”

Simeon pauses as his confusion shifts to suspicion,

“what do you mean by that?”

“think bout it Simeon, if you say you have issues with your sibling gettin executed, I’m sure the idea will be dropped!”

“You sound awfully confident..”

“is.. is that a bad thing?” You question,

“typically..”

“OI! Just trust me! It’ll work!”

you and Simeon share a nervous glance as you slowly hug a very confused Luke to your side.

• •

Despite you and Simeon’s anxiety, you still find yourself back outside the throne room, standing against the wall along with the lord of fools as Simeon stands infront of the doors. Simeon had sent Luke off with his tutor after much reassurance from you and Simeon both that you were definitely NOT in any danger whatsoever.

Simeon inhales slowly before pushing the doors open, covering his anxiety with a stern expression. The other six lords still sat inside, once Simeon entered they stop all conversation and looked over, the third born looking happy to see him until he noticed his face. Simeon stands in front of the tall row of thrones, before taking one more deep inhale and speaking.

“I’ve recently heard that a peasant was sent to be executed today.”

the lord of corruption scoffs, a scowl coming across his face as he nods.

“yes. A highly disrespectful thief.”

“well. Unfortunately. That ‘thief’ is my sibling.”

The lord of corruption raises a brow, Simeon continues to speak.

“and if my sibling is to be executed, I will have to resign from working here at the palace.”

“really? Well-“

as the lord of corruption began to speak, the lord of shadow stands up in a panic

“WHAT!!! NO!!”

the lord of shadow turns to his older brother,

“You can’t let him resign! Cancel the execution!”

“what- well-“

“UGH I CANT EVER HAVE ANYTHING! WHY CANT YOU JUST DO THIS FOR ME!?”

he cries out dramatically, you attempt to peak your head in past the door frame to get a better look at the tantrum scene, but you feel an arm wrap around your waist and pull you back. A small yelp involuntarily leaves your mouth, which causes the lord of fools to quickly cover your mouth with his other hand. Pulling you close to his chest.

“alright- ALRIGHT! QUIET.”

silence falls as the oldest shouts, the lord of shadow sits down in a huff as he speaks again.

“I will cancel the execution so you can keep your writer.”

You let out a sigh of relief through your nose, as does the lord holding you.

“i.. would also like for them to stay here with me and Luke. And to be treated the same as I.”

This time it’s your turn to throw your hands up and cover the lord of fools mouth as he lets out a loud anxious inhale. The lord of shadow sits up again, turning his head and ready to say something to his older brother. The lord of corruption lets out an irritated sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before glancing over at his brother once again.

“…fine. They can stay.” He says through gritted teeth. “Is there anything else. Simeon?”

Simeon shakes his head and bows respectfully. “No, thank you my lord.”

he turns on his heel and quickly walks back out the doors he had entered, the moment they shut you jump on him and trap him in a tight hug, whispering to him excitedly “you did it!! I don’t know how but you did!!”

“trust me, I don’t quite know how myself,” he says as he returns your hug.

the lord of fools glances at the doors for a moment before placing a hand on your shoulder,

“Simeon take them to your room, I don’t want any of my brothers to know we were listening,”

Simeon simply gives him a nod and pulls you away quickly, the lord glances around before slipping off into a different direction to avoid being questioned himself.

• •

the next few hours went by quickly and very awkwardly. When you had entered Simeon and Luke’s room, you hardly had anytime to admire it before a handful of maids also entered to take you away. With them you were brought to the bathhouse and all the dirt was scrubbed from your skin, your hair was scrubbed as well as your face, upon seeing yourself in a mirror the color of your hair seemed so much more different then from what you remember. your clothes were also taken away, most likely to be tossed or burned, or both, and replaced with clothes that made you feel like you were a royal. Gems and crystals lined the collar along with the waist, the fabric was soft and colored to be something you’ve only seen on the flowers in your garden. though you hardly had any time to admire your new look before you were pulled away to dinner, which.. was awkward, to say the least. The lord of Shadow hogged all of Simeon’s attention, blabbering on about stories and books written by Simeon that he just adored, Simeon didn’t seem to mind though since it appeared he was used to this. The lord of corruption would occasionally glance over at you with hatred and distain, but pull his eyes away any time the third born looked at him. Luke ate silently at your side, though was in an extremely good mood now that you were back, occasionally he would speak up quietly and answer any questions you asked about his schooling or what he had been up to, but that was really it since the atmosphere felt much to aggressive to have any form of friendly conversation. but of course one thing you couldn’t ignore was how the lord of fools would look over at you as you ate, every time you caught him staring his face would heat up as he would quickly turn his attention away or pretend to be looking at something near you, though the moment he was sure you had looked away he would resume to stare. For some odd reason he just couldn’t stop, every time he looked your way his gaze was filled with something you could only describe as either admiration or love.. though you had only just met him, something in your head was telling you that it was the second option.

once dinner was over you, Simeon, and Luke went to their room, another bed had been placed inside for you during dinner, which you were more than alright with since you had been used to staying with the three, and the emptiness of your old room back home just ate you up inside. Luke fell asleep first, as you were used to, and you and Simeon stayed up for a bit longer. You sat on your new bed, staring out the balcony window that offered a beautiful view of the lands. The fires from down in the villages were bright, yet you couldn’t help but direct your gaze back up at the stars. you felt anxious, a little happy, and confused. Though one feeling smothered the rest. You felt content. yes you were in a place unfamiliar to you, you’re aware that you would have been dead if you hadn’t fed those crows, and this could all just be some twisted dream and once you wake up everything will be just as it was again. However, your stomach was full, you were clean, the pajamas you had were soft and cozy, you had your brothers with you, and oddly enough you felt safe.

“what are you thinking about?”

Simeon’s voice interrupts your thoughts as he speaks from his newer writing desk placed by his bed, you look over at him for a moment, juggling what you could say.

“I’m.. just,”

you fall silent for a moment,

“I’m a bit confused is all, I’m still trying to wrap my head around this whole situation. This just can’t be real. I’m happy that I’m here, but, I just can’t figure out how me attempting to steal bread lead to me being in robes that are worth more then myself,”

he lets out a sigh before standing up, sitting by you on your bed and pulling you in for another hug,

“I know there’s not a lot I could say in this moment to reassure you.. I’m glad that you’re here as well.. “

you lean against him and sigh. You suddenly feel his arm tighten around your shoulders.

“…however, I would like to know your reasoning behind lying to me about your well being.”

he gives you a small smile as he speaks,

“I- uh, well.. you know what I am EXHAUSTED and this bed just looks fantastic!”

“Mc..”

“See you tomorrow!”

you quickly flop onto your back and roll over onto your stomach, pretending to be asleep in the uncomfortable position. Simeon sighs, figuring he’ll simply just have to question you in the morning.

once he stands up you get into a much more comfortable position under the covers and turn your gaze back to the window, your mind continues to wander as you stare at the night sky. Maybe you just need to stop worrying about it for now.. besides, you really are exhausted.

just before sleep completely takes you, you see a crow land outside on the balcony railing, tilting its head to look at you.

• • [hey! Sorry again for how long this took, like I said life randomly got really crazy- HOWEVER, a part 4 will absolutely be in the works! Ik that it probably wasn’t to exciting and I’m sorry if it’s a bit disappointing, but the next part will probably be a lot less plot heavy,]

#obey me #obey me mc #obey me fic #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me satan #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me TSL fic #obey me mammon x reader

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