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satellite-evans · 2 months ago

Text

my lando

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando and Sophie go grocery shopping, but they come home with more than just food.

Word count: 5k+

Warnings: fluff

Request: If you’re taking requests I would love anything dad!f1. Also would you consider writing doing a part 2 for best friends that fic is so cuteee

A/N:

this is a part 2 to my fic best friends, so I encourage you to read that first xxx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The doors of the grocery store slid open with a soft whoosh, letting in a burst of cool, air-conditioned breeze that carried with it the faint scent of baking bread and fresh produce. Lando guided the shopping cart inside with one hand, its slightly wobbly wheel clicking rhythmically against the tile floor. His other hand rested gently, protectively, on Sophie’s tiny back as she walked close to his side, her stuffed bunny clutched tightly to her chest like a shield against the vastness of the store.

“Alright, up you go, birdie,” Lando said with a playful grin, crouching to scoop her up effortlessly under the arms. Sophie let out a soft squeal of delight as he lifted her, her sneakers briefly kicking at the air before he settled her into the child seat at the front of the cart — the coveted "captain's chair" where her little legs dangled through the holes, already swinging back and forth like tiny pendulums.

“I get to ride today!” Sophie beamed, adjusting bunny carefully on her lap, making sure his floppy ears were arranged just right.

“You sure do,” Lando chuckled, leaning in to kiss the top of her head, his lips brushing her soft curls. He tried smoothing her wild hair down, but it only seemed to puff up more in defiance, and he grinned at the sight. “You’re my co-pilot, remember? Gotta help me make all the big decisions.”

Sophie nodded solemnly, her eyes wide and serious, though a smile still tugged at her lips. “We need milk,” she began, holding up one finger as though counting on an invisible list, “and fruit. And cereal. And snacks for Mommy.”

“Ah, snacks for Mommy — very important,” Lando agreed, steering the cart deeper into the store, the wheels creaking as they rolled over a patch of uneven floor. “You’re already keeping us in line, huh? What would I do without you?”

Sophie giggled, her arms wrapping around her bunny as she sat a little taller, clearly proud of her responsibility.

As they rounded into the bakery section, the smell of warm bread and sugar hit them like a soft wave. Lando reached out to grab a fresh loaf, checking its softness with a squeeze before putting it into a bag and tossing it gently into the cart. Sophie watched everything around her with wide, curious eyes — the rows of golden pastries, the spinning cake display, the workers bustling behind the glass counter.

“Lando! Look!” she whispered suddenly, leaning forward with excitement, her tiny finger pointing as though discovering a secret treasure. “Donuts!”

He followed her gaze, laughing as he spotted the display case filled with perfectly frosted rings of sugar.

“Dangerous,” he murmured dramatically, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. “You found my weakness, kiddo.”

Sophie giggled, hugging her bunny tighter. “Mommy likes chocolate ones,” she added, her voice soft and matter-of-fact, as though sharing insider information.

“Oh, does she now?” Lando asked, one brow raised in mock seriousness. He ruffled her hair again with a smirk. “Well, maybe we’ll have to grab some — just because you said so.”

Sophie nodded, clearly pleased with her influence, and together they moved on toward the fruit aisle.

Reaching for a bright red container of strawberries, Lando held them up to her with an exaggerated questioning look.

“These good, boss?” he asked, making her giggle at the title.

She tilted her head, inspecting them as if she were a real expert. “Hmm… yeah. They look yummy. Mommy likes those.”

“Perfect. Into the cart they go,” he said, gently placing them beside the bread and giving Sophie’s knee a little playful tap as he did.

As they kept moving, Sophie leaned to the side, reaching her hand out as though she could touch all the colorful cereal boxes lining the aisle. Her fingers trailed the edges of bright packages, and Lando smiled, watching her soak in the world around her.

“Alright,” he said finally, steering them to a stop right in front of the towering wall of cereals. “Big decision time, co-pilot. What cereal are we getting?”

Sophie’s eyes sparkled, her legs swinging faster with excitement. “I want the animal one! With the tiger!”

Lando scanned the shelves and plucked down the orange box featuring a grinning cartoon tiger.

“The tiger one it is,” he said, holding it out to show her before tossing it into the cart. Then he reached up for another box, holding it up with a sly smile. “Should we get chocolate cereal too? Y’know, for emergencies?”

Sophie gasped dramatically, her eyes going wide, clutching bunny to her chest like she couldn’t believe such luck. “Yes! And I can share with you!”

“Deal,” Lando laughed, giving her a playful wink as he added the chocolate cereal to their growing pile of groceries.

As they made their way toward the checkout, Sophie kept up a steady stream of chatter — soft, bubbly, and full of little observations about the store. She pointed out balloons near the floral section, admired the shiny apples they passed, and made Lando laugh with her random musings about what kind of cereal bunnies would eat if they could.

But then, as they rounded the last aisle, her voice grew more thoughtful.

“Lando?” she asked, glancing up at him with her head slightly tilted, curls falling over her cheeks.

“Yeah, bug?” he answered, glancing down, ready for whatever question might come.

She hesitated a moment, her fingers playing with bunny’s ear. “When the baby comes… can they ride in the cart with me too?”

Lando blinked, his heart giving a soft squeeze at her tenderness. You found out you were pregnant after your 1st anniversary with Lando, and he was over the moon. He already felt like a dad with Sophie, but this time he could experience everything from the beginning. Sophie was even more excited than the both of you. She always wanted a little sibling, and her dreams finally came true.

He slowed the cart and leaned in closer to her level, smiling gently.

“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “they might be a little too tiny at first. But when they’re bigger? Yeah, I think you two can share. You’ll have to teach them all about being a good co-pilot.”

Sophie’s whole face lit up at that, her smile beaming like sunshine. “I’ll show them how to pick snacks for Mommy,” she said proudly.

Lando grinned, giving her a soft, affectionate nudge. “Best teacher I could think of.”

As they neared the checkout, Sophie’s sharp little gasp cut through the hum of the store.

“Lando! Flowers for Mommy!” she cried, twisting in her seat and reaching one small arm toward the flower stand by the front entrance — a burst of color against the neutral aisles.

Lando followed her gaze, his chest tightening a little at the way she said it — so sure, so full of joy.

“You think so?” he asked, voice softer now, already knowing her answer but wanting to hear it from her.

Sophie nodded, curls bouncing as she leaned forward, bunny squished protectively in one arm, the other still reaching out. “She loves it when you bring her flowers. She smiles a lot.”

For a moment, Lando just stood there, hand resting on the cart handle, watching her. There was something about the way she said it — like it was the simplest thing in the world to make her mom smile, like love was easy if you just remembered the right kind of flowers.

He swallowed the lump rising in his throat, glancing down at her small fingers gripping bunny like a lifeline, her bright eyes shining with certainty.

“Alright,” he murmured, voice a little rough as he nudged the cart in the direction of the flower stand. “Okay, birdie. You get to pick them. Find the best ones for Mommy.”

Sophie’s eyes went wide, taking her role very seriously, sitting up straighter in the seat, scanning the colorful bouquets as though searching for treasure. She leaned so far forward, tiny brows scrunched in concentration, that Lando reached out instinctively to steady her back with a gentle hand.

Her little fingers hovered over a bunch of purple tulips, then bright yellow daisies, before finally pointing with great determination at a bundle of soft pink and white flowers — delicate, gentle things that looked like they’d been kissed by morning light.

“These,” she said firmly, voice full of quiet conviction. “These are like Mommy.”

Lando smiled as he reached for the bouquet, cradling it carefully in one hand. His throat felt tight again, but this time he let it settle, let it stay.

“You’ve got good taste, bug,” he whispered, brushing a hand softly over her curls, fingers tangling for a moment in the wild strands before he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

As they made their way back to the checkout, the flowers nestled carefully on top of the groceries, Lando tried to shake the feeling pressing into his chest — that deep, aching kind of love that made it hard to breathe sometimes.

Sophie stayed perched in the cart, bunny tucked under her chin, legs swinging back and forth as if life couldn’t get any better than this simple moment.

The cashier, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a bright name tag that read MARIA, smiled warmly at them as she began scanning their items, the beep of each product sliding across the scanner filling the air.

“Out with Daddy today, huh?” she asked casually, reaching for the strawberries.

Lando froze for half a second, one hand still on a box of cereal, his fingers tightening around the cardboard. The word Daddy hung there in the air between them, like something delicate he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch. His mouth opened, but the words tangled on his tongue.

“Uh—”

But before he could figure out what to say — before he could trip over the explanation he wasn’t even sure how to give — Sophie piped up, her voice sweet and clear and full of absolute certainty.

“Yeah! He’s kinda like my daddy,” she said with a proud little grin, turning her face up toward Lando, eyes shining with trust that knocked the breath right out of him. “We do everything together.”

Lando blinked, his throat tightening again as he stared at her, at this tiny person who just knew who he was to her, even if the world didn’t have a name for it yet.

The cashier, thankfully, didn’t ask questions. She just smiled even softer, glancing between them as though she saw more than he knew.

“Well,” she said gently, carefully placing the bouquet on top of the groceries, “looks like you’ve got a pretty great team.”

Lando finally found his voice, though it came out a little rougher than before. “Yeah,” he murmured, glancing at Sophie as she hugged bunny tight. A small, quiet smile curved his lips. “Yeah, I do.”

They finished packing up in a comfortable silence, Lando sliding items into bags while Sophie sat watching, her eyes occasionally darting to the flowers with a little grin.

When they were ready to leave, Lando gave the cart a gentle push toward the exit, but before they made it out the door, Sophie reached out and caught his hand in hers, her tiny fingers curling tightly around his, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Lando?” she asked softly as they stepped out into the sunlight, which poured over them like warm honey.

“Yeah, birdie?”

Sophie looked up at him, her face thoughtful under the bright sky. “Can I give Mommy the flowers when we get home?”

Lando looked down at her, heart full to bursting, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Absolutely,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s gonna love that.”

Sophie beamed, her legs swinging happily again as she perched in the cart, bunny still safe in her arms. The flowers swayed gently in the breeze as Lando guided them toward the car, and for a long moment, it felt like the whole world had slowed just for them — like this little life they were building together was enough. More than enough.

After putting Sophie in her seat and loading the last of the bags into the trunk, Lando closed the hatch with a soft thud and turned around, expecting to find Sophie already impatiently bouncing in her seat. But instead, he found her still sitting quietly in the car, her stuffed bunny securely nestled in her lap, her little fingers curled around it. She was buckled in, looking out the window with wide eyes, her expression already brightening with the anticipation of the next part of their adventure. She seemed so small in that big car, but the way she sat there — calm, expectant, full of life — made it clear that she was the one driving this moment.

“You ready to head home, kiddo?” Lando asked with a smile as he slid into the driver’s seat, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. His hands settled on the wheel, ready to start the drive, but his heart still carried the weight of all the little moments that made the day feel like something special.

“Yep! Let’s go!” Sophie chirped back enthusiastically, her grin stretching wide across her face. She hugged bunny tightly, giving him a little squeeze like she was sharing the joy with him.

“And can we play the happy song again?” she asked, her voice practically sparkling with excitement.

Lando chuckled, starting the car and feeling the low rumble of the engine beneath them. He gave Sophie another glance, amusement dancing in his eyes. “The ‘do-do-do’ song?”

“YES! The Walking on Sunshine song! I want to sing it again!” Sophie declared, her tiny voice full of enthusiasm, and Lando couldn’t resist her infectious energy. He cranked the volume up a little and tapped his hands on the steering wheel, pretending to be a professional DJ for a second.

“Alright, alright! You got it, boss,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips.

The familiar beat of the song filled the car, and Sophie’s face lit up immediately, her whole body bopping in her seat. She raised her arms in the air like she was conducting an orchestra, her joy radiating out of every tiny movement.

Lando, unable to resist the infectious tune, joined in with her, his voice a little off-key but full of the same carefree spirit. The car seemed to come alive with the sound of their combined laughter and song as Sophie’s little voice rang out beside him.

"I'm walking on sunshine, whoa-oh!"

Sophie’s eyes sparkled with glee as she turned to him, practically vibrating with energy. “Sing louder, Lando!” she commanded, her voice bubbling with laughter.

“Louder, huh? You got it,” Lando said, laughing as he turned the volume up even more, filling the car with the pure joy of their off-key duet.

Together, they belted out the chorus at full force, both of them laughing through their notes. Sophie’s voice cracked with the excitement of it all, and Lando’s was barely more in tune, but they didn’t care — they were singing for the sheer joy of it, their spirits rising with the beat.

"And don't it feel good!"

As the song reached its peak, Sophie threw her arms up dramatically, her face split by a grin that stretched from ear to ear. “Good job, Lando! You sang it so good!” she said with a proud gleam in her eyes, as if she had been the one to coach him through the song.

Lando couldn’t help but laugh, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest as he glanced back at her through the rearview mirror. “Thanks, kiddo. You were amazing!” he said, his voice full of affection. He gave her a soft smile, his eyes momentarily soft as they met hers in the mirror. “You sure you don’t want to be the singer? You’re way better at it than me.”

Sophie gave him a serious look, her little brow furrowing as she considered his offer. Then she nodded with quiet confidence. “No, Lando, you’re really good,” she said earnestly, like she was offering him sage advice. “But I’ll help you. I can teach you the words.”

Lando chuckled, the warmth in his chest spreading even further. “You’ll be the best teacher, huh?”

“I will!” she declared, her voice full of such certainty that Lando had no doubt she’d take her role as the teacher very seriously. “We can practice more next time!”

“That’s a deal,” Lando said, his heart swelling as he turned the car onto their street. The world outside the windows felt like it was moving slower, almost as if it was giving him space to savor the moment. He smiled softly to himself, realizing just how right everything felt. The car ride, Sophie’s laughter, their simple joy — it was all perfect in its own little way.

As they approached their house, Sophie’s voice piped up again from the backseat, bringing Lando back to the present.

“You did a good job, Lando. You always do good jobs.”

The words caught him off guard, and his breath caught in his throat for a moment as he blinked. It was such a simple, honest thing to say, but it hit him deeper than he expected. He kept his eyes on the road, his hand resting on the steering wheel, trying to hold it together as the lump in his throat threatened to grow.

“You always make me feel like I’m doing good,” he said quietly, more to himself than to her, but Sophie heard it. She always heard him.

Her eyes met his in the rearview mirror, and she smiled a smile that could light up the whole world. “’Cause you are. You’re the best Lando!” she said, raising her hand in the air like she was giving him a high five from the backseat.

“Thanks, little bird. You’re the best too,” Lando said, his voice full of affection as he winked at her, reaching back to give her hand a gentle squeeze, just for a moment, to remind them both of the bond they shared.

When they finally pulled into the driveway, Lando shifted the car into park and quickly turned off the engine, jumping out to open the door for Sophie. He helped her out gently, making sure she was steady on her feet. She jumped down and immediately dashed ahead, her excitement bubbling over as she ran toward the house, bunny still pressed tightly to her chest.

Lando paused for a moment, grabbing the bags from the trunk, and just watched her. She was humming a little tune to herself, her feet barely touching the ground as she skipped up the steps. Her giggles — full of joy and wonder — floated back to him on the breeze, and for a brief moment, the world outside seemed to fade away.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Lando murmured softly to himself, his eyes following Sophie’s retreating figure up the steps.

The front door creaked open as Lando pushed it gently with his shoulder, carefully balancing the bags of groceries in one hand. His other hand was pressed to his side, whilst Sophie tried to keep the bouquet of flowers steady as she maneuvered through the doorway.

"Mommy! We're home!" Sophie called out, her small voice ringing through the house, echoing with a sweetness that made Lando’s heart warm.

You appeared from the living room, still in your cozy clothes, your hair a bit messy, one hand resting on the curve of your bump as the other brushed sleep from your eyes. The moment you saw them — Lando juggling bags, Sophie with her face full of joy and her arms holding the bouquet — a soft smile tugged at your lips.

“Hi, baby,” you greeted softly, your voice a gentle melody. You took a step forward and leaned in to kiss Lando’s cheek, your lips brushing against his skin, making him grin, his tired eyes lighting up just from the simple affection. Then you turned to Sophie, who was practically bouncing with excitement, her smile stretching from ear to ear.

“You two had quite the adventure, huh?” you teased lightly, your voice full of warmth as you bent down slightly to meet Sophie’s sparkling gaze.

Sophie’s eyes twinkled as she held out the bouquet toward you, her hand trembling slightly with the weight of her proud accomplishment. Bunny was still clutched securely under one arm, his little button eyes seemingly looking up at you too, as if he were part of the gift.

“These are for you, Mommy!” she declared in her most serious, grown-up voice. “Me and Lando picked them! I picked the best ones.”

Your heart swelled with an emotion that almost caught you off guard. You reached out, taking the flowers from her hand with care, inhaling their soft scent. The delicate fragrance filled the air around you.

“Oh, sweetheart, they’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft as you kissed the top of Sophie’s head, feeling the warmth of her curls beneath your lips. “Thank you, my love.”

Lando, who had set the grocery bags on the counter, watched the two of you with a look in his eyes that melted your heart — that look, the one where it was clear his whole world revolved around both of you. His smile was subtle, but it said everything.

“I'm guessing you were the boss today, Soph,” you teased gently, reaching out to ruffle Sophie’s hair, a playful grin on your face.

“She was,” Lando chimed in, stepping over to you. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his hand instinctively resting on your bump, as if to remind himself of the little one that was growing there. “Best co-pilot ever.”

Sophie giggled at the praise, her face lighting up with the joy of being recognized for her hard work. She was clearly proud of herself, her small chest puffed out like she had just achieved something monumental.

“Well, I think my little co-pilot deserves a kiss too,” you said sweetly, your voice full of affection. You bent down and peppered Sophie’s cheeks with soft, gentle kisses, making her squeal with laughter, the sound pure and full of life.

“And me?” Lando asked with a playful pout, his voice teasing but warm.

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek, pulling him toward you for a soft kiss. Sophie giggled even louder, watching the two of you with innocent joy.

“Okay, okay,” Lando said with a laugh, breaking away from the kiss and ruffling Sophie’s curls. “You win, birdie.”

After a few moments of laughter and unpacking, Sophie seemed content. She scampered off to the living room, her little feet thudding on the floor as she went, bunny still tucked in her arms, her toys calling her name. Her soft giggles echoed from the hallway as she disappeared from sight.

Lando lingered in the kitchen, standing still for a moment with a thoughtful expression, glancing over at the doorway where Sophie had vanished. His fingers brushed the edge of the counter, his thoughts clearly still wrapped up in the day. Then, after a quiet pause, he turned to look at you.

“She, uh…” Lando started, his voice quiet but carrying an edge of vulnerability, as if unsure how to express something important. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to collect his thoughts. “At the store… someone asked if she was out with her dad.”

Your eyebrows raised slightly in quiet surprise. You turned toward him, watching him with soft curiosity, knowing there was more to the story. “Oh?”

He nodded slowly, shifting his weight and looking down for a moment, his hand running through his hair as if still processing the conversation. “I didn’t know what to say. And then she just—” His voice broke into a soft, almost disbelieving smile, and he shook his head slightly, as if still in awe of what had happened. “She just looked up and said, ‘Yeah, he’s kinda like my daddy. We do everything together.’”

Your heart clenched in the sweetest way, and you couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at your lips. You stepped closer to him, slipping your hand into his, squeezing gently.

“She’s not wrong,” you whispered, your voice full of warmth and truth. “She’s right. In every way that matters.”

Lando exhaled slowly, his eyes softening as he looked down at you. His fingers laced with yours as he leaned into your touch, his forehead gently resting against yours for a brief moment. “I love her so much,” he admitted quietly, his voice almost a whisper, but it held so much weight, so much truth. “I know she’s not mine but… she feels like mine. I don’t know how to explain it, but she just… feels like mine.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you pressed your lips together, knowing exactly how he felt. You cupped his cheek with your free hand, guiding his gaze to meet yours.

“She is yours,” you whispered, your voice a steady comfort. “In every way that matters, she’s yours.”

Lando smiled softly, resting his forehead against yours for another brief moment, savoring the connection between you. He took a deep, steadying breath and pulled away, his eyes set with a determined gleam.

“I wanna tell her that,” he murmured, his voice low but resolute. “I just… want her to know. In case she ever wonders.”

You nodded, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “She’d love that. She’d be so happy to hear you say it.”

With one last gentle kiss to your lips, Lando pulled away and made his way toward the living room, where Sophie was sitting cross-legged on the floor, stacking blocks while bunny sat next to her like a little guardian.

“Hey, bug,” Lando said softly as he sat down beside Sophie, stretching his legs out comfortably. He glanced over at her, admiring the concentration on her face as she carefully stacked the blocks one by one.

Sophie looked up, her face lighting up immediately. “Hi!” she chirped, her eyes sparkling with the innocent joy only a child could have.

“Whatcha building?” Lando asked, his voice gentle, watching her tiny hands work diligently, the small pieces of the block tower taking shape in front of her.

“A tower. For bunny,” she said with a proud grin, motioning to the small stuffed bunny she had tucked safely beside her, sitting as if it were the most important guest in the room.

“Very cool,” Lando replied with a smile of his own, his heart swelling at the sweetness of the moment. He leaned back slightly, his eyes never leaving her as she worked. The quietness between them felt comfortable, peaceful. But there was something on his mind, something he knew he needed to say, even though it made his chest tighten a bit.

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, the nerves creeping in. “Hey, uh… can I tell you something?” he asked, his voice a little softer than usual.

Sophie blinked up at him, her face a perfect picture of curiosity, and then tilted her head to the side, as if trying to decipher whether this was a serious moment or just another silly conversation. “Okay,” she said with a small nod, her big eyes watching him carefully.

Lando took a deep breath and then reached over, gently brushing some curls away from her face. His fingers were soft as they ran through her hair, a gesture that felt almost instinctive, like this was a moment he didn’t want to rush. He let the quiet stretch between them, gathering his words.

“I just wanted to say,” he began, his voice quiet, almost hesitant, “I know I’m not your… well, I’m not your real daddy.” He swallowed hard, as if the words themselves were harder to say than he anticipated. “But you know what?”

Sophie’s small face became serious for a moment as she listened intently, her eyes not leaving his. Her little fingers paused their work as she waited for him to finish.

Lando smiled faintly, his chest tightening with a mix of emotion. “I love you like you’re mine,” he said, his voice cracking a bit with the truth of it. “And I always will. I’ll always be here for you. Even if I didn’t get to be there when you were a tiny baby, I’ll be here for everything else. Okay?”

For a brief moment, Sophie’s lip wobbled slightly, a flash of vulnerability in her eyes. Lando’s heart clenched at the sight, but before he could say anything more, she beamed, her expression shifting in an instant. Without any hesitation, she launched herself straight into his lap, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

“I know, Lando,” she whispered into his shoulder, her voice full of sweetness and trust. “You’re my Lando.”

Lando let out a soft, shaky laugh, feeling the flood of emotions overwhelm him. He hugged her tight, pulling her close, pressing a long, lingering kiss to the top of her head, the soft strands of her hair tickling his lips. “Yeah, bug. I’m yours,” he murmured, the words feeling more true than anything he had ever said.

Sophie nestled against him, content and at peace in his arms. Lando stroked her curls, trying to steady his breath, feeling her tiny heartbeat against his chest. There was so much love in that simple gesture, in her complete certainty that he belonged to her, that he was a part of her life in a way that felt both simple and profound.

After a few moments, Sophie pulled back just enough to look at him, her bright eyes still filled with the kind of wonder only a child could possess. She gave him a wide grin, her cheeks still flushed from the affection they’d just shared.

“Can we teach the baby to make towers too?” she asked eagerly, her voice full of excitement at the idea of a new adventure — one that would involve teaching the little sibling who was still growing inside your belly how to build things just like her.

Lando smiled, his heart feeling fuller than it ever had, a lump forming in his throat. He gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her soft skin. “Yeah, we’ll teach them everything,” he said, his voice quiet but full of promise. He could already imagine them all together — Sophie, the baby, you and him — building towers, teaching, laughing, and sharing moments just like this.

Sophie didn’t wait for a response but instead leaned in to press a quick kiss to his cheek, her lips soft and sweet against his skin. Then, without another word, she hopped off his lap, grabbing bunny with one hand and skipping back to her tower as if everything was exactly as it should be. She resumed stacking the blocks, her tiny fingers moving with determination and focus, like she hadn’t just shared something truly profound. As if nothing had been heavy in the first place.

Lando sat there for a moment, watching her, a smile tugging at his lips. His heart felt full in a way he never knew it could be. He didn’t have the words for it, but he felt it all — the joy, the love, the hope. His life had been turned upside down in the best way possible, and it was because of moments like these, with Sophie, with you, with everything that was growing between them all.

When he turned to look toward the doorway, he saw you standing there, watching him with a soft smile on your face. Your eyes glistened with unshed tears, but your expression was one of pure love, a smile that said everything he needed to hear without a single word.

This was his family.

And there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.

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tsuyalovebot · 4 months ago

Text

don't make me wait forever.

pairing: xia yi zhou / caleb x reader (love and deepspace)

cw: sfw. semi-prominent reader characterization (spoiled, occasional use of she/her pronouns, referred to as a "little sister" once). kisses. casual touches. throat holding (both by reader and by caleb). use of "older brother" to address caleb (not by reader). pipsqueak as a term of endearment. reader wears makeup. some spoilers from tender moments, memoria, and bond story. caleb typical warnings (manipulation if you squint).

wc: roughly 3-4k words. unnecessary word vomit.

author's note: a man who yearns is a man who EARNS. hi, it's me again! i had an idea and had to bring it to life. enjoy! ( ^ -. ^ )

Caleb wasn't lying when he said he spoiled you too much as children.

You didn't quite get it at first—he was nothing but sweet with the occasional menace during childhood, sure, but he didn't spoil you spoil you.

You were leaning into his chest, eyes closed while listening to the TV in the background as his large arm wraps itself around your waist. Tucking you against him, feeling his lips against the crown of your head.

"I baby you too much," he sighed, a mellow cheeriness beneath his words.

"And yet, you sound so happy over it," you grumbled. Sleep is so close yet so far, and you'd been squirming around in search of the closest boarding gate. His touch delicate as he pulled you onto his lap.

You snuggled closer on instinct. Picking up on the faint smell of sandalwood and something finer, richer. There was movement on your back, Caleb's palm stroking up and down, while the other held you by the back of your neck like an infant.

"I spoiled you, too."

You frowned, looked at him blearily. "Nuh-uh."

"Uh-huh." He pushed your head back onto his shoulder. "Go to sleep."

Sure, Caleb took extensive measures to ensure your comfortable upbringing with him. But you weren't spoiled.

Right?

But you go on your first date with someone that isn't him, and it kind of hits. Making an offhanded comment about how the water temperature was more cold than warm—you asked for room temp—doesn't result in your date immediately requesting another glass or them buying you bottled water from the convenience store across the restaurant.

Instead, you're told, "they probably forgot, it's fine" and the date continues. You watch the condensation form on your glass quietly. Every rational droplet is speaking to your acrid gut feeling—it's just water. It'll be room temperature eventually.

Later on, your date messages you. They asked if you got home safely, all the while you'd been drinking a glass of lukewarm water in Caleb's dining room. You pressed block once you heard his familiar, curious voice asking how the date went.

"It was meh." And you asked for another glass.

Another time, you'd been hanging out with old high school friends as a simple gathering. Though, you hadn't expected that it would lead to seemingly endless anecdotes in relation to you. Over fruit smoothies and café pastries, they'd all been exchanging stories once the conversation turns over to yourself in high school.

"Remember when she would always ask us to do stuff?" One girl laughed, cutting into her french toast.

Another cleared her throat, exaggerating her voice into a falsetto, "hey, can you get me a bun from the cafeteria? Oh, there's no more? Then, a banana milk and whatever pastry they have."

It earned a crackle of laughter along the table of five people. You, the object of discussion, smiling at the head of the table. Rather awkwardly, too, as you sipped on your drink.

"You forgot to add on the "you can do that at least, right?" at the end!"

"Oh, oh, the sulking too, if you don't do it!"

"She'd always complain about our fans, too."

"Oh my God, yeah. "Why does your fan battery run out so quickly? Did you not charge it?" Like, hello?"

One of the girls face you amidst the active exchange, grinning. Despite the recollection of your nature in the past, they weren't mad. Simply taking the entertainment value in it.

"Don't worry," and she said your name, placing a hand over yours on the table.

"You've got an older brother, right? It may have been annoying, but we're friends. You were like, our little sister."

A muscle in your jaw ticked. His face popped up in your face and you wanna punch him, despite him being nowhere near you at the time of this event. But, you laughed and nodded; acquiescing to her reassurance was easier this way.

It slipped out once more when you go out for movies with Tara. It's the same theater you and Caleb always frequented before. You already swiped your card for payment of movie food, and had besn walking to the screening room.

"Tara, can you check the bucket? Make sure it has enough butter on it?"

"Hm? Okay," she replied. While you scrolled on your phone, you heard the plastic lid of the bucket pop open.

"Seems good to me. You check."

When you move your attention over to the bucket, you're met with mediocre-looking buttered popcorn. The golden syrup of butter scattered over the pieces. You frowned. Since when were they so shy about buttering literal corn?

You stopped walking, brows furrowed. "It's so... pale. Let's go back and ask for more, I didn't pay for that."

"Huh? Oh, okay?" You didn't really register Tara's confused tone of voice until after you had a spat with the person at the popcorn station.

It was some moody teen probably working minimum wage. He was scowling while you talked about the butter portioning.

He sneered, "over some popcorn? Really? Were you that spoiled as a kid?"

It winded you. Tara was pulling at your arm, seeming to try and hold you back despite you being frozen. The manager came out once the commotion seems to stop, only because you were gobsmacked.

He'd been apologizing profusely to you and Tara upon recognizing you both as hunters; his eyes had landed on you with so much familiarity. He's probably been working here for a decade or so. Long enough to have previously seen you and Caleb at movie screenings.

Tara's at the butter dispenser of the self-service station—something they closed over half a decade ago apparently, but frantically opened for today, coincidentally—with you behind her when she finally spoke

She was a bit bewildered, but it was easy to pick up the lighthearted tone. "I didn't take you for the pampered type. That was the normal amount of butter on popcorn for most places."

You shook your head. "No, it wasn't. I was a regular here in the past. Every time we got a bucket of popcorn, they were always so generous with the salted butter."

"By yourself?"

"No, with my friend."

There'd been a pause between you two. She pressed the lid back into place and begun shaking it, the popcorn rattling. Then, she turned to you, like she knew something that you didn't.

"And you never once thought this friend scared the employees into putting extra butter for you back then?"

It always went back to him.

Whenever you'd go to a colleague's place and bore holes into the crooked cuts of the apple slices on a plate, you found yourself recalling Caleb's expert cuts. These ones weren't even red delicious apples.

You're a bit peeved when the food from the monthly catering service at the Association doesn't taste the same way that Caleb makes it, even though the food is the same kind and recipe.

Your next trip to Skyhaven is definitely highly anticipated. You're been exhausted and haggard for the past few days. It only amplifies as the day stretches on, grimacing when Caleb opens the door. He's surprised to see you, panting and sweaty in his white tanktop. Fresh from a workout, most likely. It makes you a bit, a tiny bit, mad.

"Pipsqueak? What's the occasion?"

"You," you hiss, releasing your hold on your suitcases. You kick off your shoes as you push your way into his place, pointing an accusing finger to his chest.

Caleb's confused. It's clear in the furrow of his brow and frantic blinking that his synapses are doing rapid fire checking of what today is, what he's said or done recently, what stores are on sale, and what snacks you need.

Despite being the one who said he himself spoiled you, he clearly has no idea how it's manifested in your life, and it pisses you off even more.

"I'm the occasion?" He squawks, confused. "It's too early for my birthday—"

"You and your stupid past self. I should have your head on a stake," you bark, slamming your fists onto his pecs, pushing him further into his own home.

He laughs a bit, still completely in the dark, but his voice gets a bit more pitchy.

He leans down, cranes his gargantuan ass down to your height. It's polite. You know this, he's done it countless times. But your gut speaks to you. You're going to throttle him.

"Huh? What did I do?"

"You piss me off!"

His face softens with concern. His hands come up, ghosting over yours. He murmurs your name—

Then you're gripping him by the neck. You get to drink in the way his eyes widen to saucers as your fingers delicately wrap around his throat, palms on either side. You don't squeeze, and instead, aggressively shake him. "Pipsqueak?"

"You spoiled me!" You shriek, voice shrill with accusation.

Frustration, the buildup from the past couple of weeks comes to full fruition in this very moment. It's only for a split second that you see realization dawn on Caleb's face before you continue yelling.

"I relied on others to get me snacks because of you, I complain over batteries because of you, now I want specific water temperatures, I can't stand pale popcorn because you demanded extra butter, I'm picky over food—"

"Hey—"

"Don't you hey me, mister!" You jut your finger up at his face, and he shuts his mouth instantly. "I'm like this, because of you!"

You don't miss the glitter of mirth in those stupidly ethereal eyes of his, and it's wholly unreal how your anger amplifies when you notice his twitching lips. He found this funny.

"You're laughing?" You whisper, low and indignant. You squeeze his throat, feel his breath pass under the skin. Adrenaline riveting and real in the low thrum of your heartbeat.

"I'm here, devastated over the effect of your stupid actions on my life, and you're laughing?"

"Devastated?" Caleb echoes. The idiot sounded delighted over this. Like he was finding a great deal of validation in your admission.

A grin quirks his lips into its signature, charming curve, and he's leaning down into you some more. One of his hands sliding over yours with a gentleness only he could emulate. Your resolve stutters, and he's quick to take advantage of that.

"Oh, please, pipsqueak." He chuckles. "That's not true and you know it."

His fingers gently slide between the gaps of yours, making room for himself and filling the emptiness. Effectively peeling them away from his throat, and doing the same to the other hand. You relent, letting your arms hang loosely at your sides.

Caleb's still smiling when he takes a step forward, crowding your space now. It doesn't register that he's cornered you until your back is flat to the closed door and you're surrounded by him and everything about him.

The very man who's fed you every granule, acquainted you with the taste of having the world at your every whim. A charged zap runs up the base of your spine when he lifts your chin.

"If you were really devastated, you'd have come here cryin' instead. You'd be on your knees, weepin' over how I've ruined you. Not yelling and screaming and accusing me," he coos, sickly sweet. His thumb rubbing below your lower lip.

"Are you done? Do you feel better after getting it all off your chest?"

His gaze feels abysmal. Two pools of an oceanic depth, spatial and intergalactic and beyond your comprehension. Hungry.

Something darker lurks there. That one look that flickers in and out of conversations whenever you're close to him, or when the topic tilts into something that you know you shouldn't be touching. Like he's satiated, but still craving more and more. You feel small under it every time.

"Even a kid knows how to manipulate their guardian into givin' them what they want."

The double meaning, one of comparing you to an immature brat, isn't lost on you. Heat crawls up your skin as your cheeks round with the scrunch of your nose. Ready to retaliate with equal venom, even if his words weren't inherently insulting.

But, before you even could, the expression on his face stops you in your tracks.

It's like looking at the colonel. Caleb cocks his head to the side, expression clinically cold. "When someone is speaking, we?"

He stares. He's waiting for a response, you realize.

You finish his sentence, pacified. "We listen."

"Good. Seems you still have the manners I taught you."

Your face heats up.

That stupidly patient smile on his lips was grating on your nerves, far more than any revelation of his ingrained presence in your every action, thought, word, and emotion.

His thumb is soon pressed flush to your lips. He isn't prying it open like he did before, instead rubbing the pad of his thumb along your lips, caressing the divot of your cupid's bow. He's playing with the glossy texture and film of your lippie, smearing it past the corner of your lips.

The first thing you want to do is push him away. Shove him, hard, and make space between the two of you so that your train of thought could return. Yet, the softness that decorates his grape-colored irises was making you hesitate. He's an annoying guy, someone who gets on your nerves, with featherlight caresses and an admiration so sincere.

Rouge stains the pad of his digit when he draws it back. He's curious, his gaze thoughtful as he examines the pigment. Then, you're watching as he lifts it to his mouth with a deliberate kiss. Lashes fluttering over his cheekbones.

When he drops his hand, the scarlet pigment is smeared over his lips like a brand.

You're burning alive. You reach up, immediately trying to wipe it from his lips. "You—"

"Weirdo? I know." Caleb catches your hand with ease, beaming with half-lidded eyes. "Buuut, you're just as weird as me for lettin' me do that, y'know."

He's making a point. You're going to gut him alive, you think to yourself. In stealing an indirect kiss from you, he's replicating every scenario you've ever bared yourself to him. How easy it is, to melt in one's earnest wonder and affection, unable to say no.

In an attempt to regain your composure, you scowl with all the feigned vitriol you could muster. "You're even weirder for condoning my every action."

He cocks his head, like he was reloading a couple memories from the past. The countless times he let you get away with things.

"It's... not that easy for me, pipsqueak."

"Yes, it is." You huff and free your hand from his grip. Settling your palms flat over his chest, fingers curling into the stretchy fabric. "Telling me no couldn't have been that hard."

"Yeah?" He teases. "You think it's that simple for me?"

"Grandma could handle me."

Caleb deadpans at your mention of her, his face relaxing into something like bemusement.

"If Gran or I took away your stuffed animal to clean it, you'd kick and scream and cry. If I denied you of your favorite food or a candy apple, you'd say you hate me."

You blink. That wasn't the response you were expecting. All of a sudden, you feel like someone's wiped your mind of everything you've ever known, and redefined your recollections of childhood. Embarrassment crawls up your face in burning streaks.

"Gran could handle you?" He repeats, shakes his head with a sad look.

There's a pained aspect to his current physiognomy, the furrow of his brow, the deepened set of his mouth. "That's because it's her. Of course, she wouldn't mind your cries. But I did."

He crouches, and for a moment, it was as if he was falling. The sunlight filtered in through the glass of the door behind your head, catching on the nutty brown strands of his hair. Cradling his head against the junction of your neck and shoulder, hiding away his face.

"I didn't want you to hate me." He admits, the words fanned over your throat. You inhale deeply, and his familiar scent invades your senses. You hope that stupid central organ wasn't too loud, or else he'd hear the beating of your pulse working double time.

Caleb's a constant in your life. He was a pillar, from youth 'til now, that never failed to offer you assistance regardless of the circumstances. You knew him to be reliable, persistent, generous. Perhaps it plays into the way he's coated your teeth in sugar, nipping at your enamel in a thick film that tastes of sweetness.

Yet seeing him like this, frustrated and amused and annoyed—it was unfounded.

"I didn't know much." The vulnerability was low yet blaring. "I just knew I didn't want you to hate me. I knew I loved seeing you happy. And if I denied you, you weren't happy."

It's too black and white. So childish and simplified. It's an easygoing description of his feelings toward you during early youth, one that could easily be swallowed up and consumed by the nasty nature of the world.

Yet, you card your fingers through his hair. Press your lips to his temple all the same, and listen to his utterances.

Your bottom lip is jutting out before you can stop yourself. And in spite of his own admissions, the uncomfortable nakedness that comes with it, you mumble a pointed, "you made me high maintenance."

"You're only figurin' that out now?" He snickers against your skin and the subsequent vibrations make you jump. "Pipsqueak, everyone's known you're high maintenance."

You protest, "that's not true."

"Yes," he says, amused. "It is."

Peeling away from your neck, Caleb's face is less grave now. Relief floods your senses and you cup his face, smoothing over the corners of his lip to wipe away the frowns. There's a weight behind you that isn't the door, his palm a welcome touch as his fingers splay over the small of your back.

His other hand resting on the side of your throat, fingers resting on your nape and thumb rubbing the ridge of your jaw. The motion is soothing, and you close your eyes to memorize its rhythm.

"Even if you're high maintenance, I'm the one who caused it. Allegedly."

You bristle and your eyes fly open, "allegedly? There's proof—"

"Ah-ah."

Caleb's brows are raised on his forehead as you pipe down, amused by how quick you were to correct your behavior.

"Much better. As I was saying."

Despite the extra firmness to his voice, his touch on you was nothing short of gentle. Like your body was carved from marble, reinforced by a fragile porcelain, he does that thing where he tilts your head with the hand on your neck. His thumb rubbing your earlobe.

But the most violating part had to be those intense, smoldering eyes that beheld you with utmost priority. How did you ever think he didn't care for you?

Caleb's tone of voice is chiding. "You're high maintenance because of me, and that makes you mine to maintain."

He's talking down to you. Treating you like one would to a child learning how to tie their shoelaces, his voice chiseled with the vines of condescension. Heartbeat speeding in your chest, distinguishing your heartbeat from your rampant thoughts became far more difficult.

The little smile that's on his lips seems manic. Far away, distant, as you slide your hands over his pecs. A shudder ripples over your skin.

"After all, it's my fault for making sure you're comfortable. It's my fault for prioritizing you above all else, as children and as adults." He starts, chillingly calm. He shakes his head to himself with a deep sigh, and tilts your head back against the door. Examining you with an unblinking, almost detached visage. Yet, his words were anything but, thick with emotion.

You breathe slow, torturous inhales and exhales, feeling Caleb's hand wrap itself around your throat. Alarms ring out in the back of your mind—loud, incessant, disturbing, yet you close your eyes and let him hold you there.

He won't hurt you. He never would, intentionally.

Quietly, like a forbidden fruit to not be consumed or heard, he mutters, "it's my fault for wantin' nothing but the best for you, because it's what you deserve. Nothing less."

Oh, you breathe out.

There's absolutely no pressure to the way he holds your neck. His palm wasn't against the column of your throat, instead, the pads of his thick digits were clasping the skin with a touch so invisible it almost felt nonexistent. When you swallow, the flexed skin presses itself up to his touch.

"Do you really want me to take it back?" Caleb asks, breaking the momentary silence and taking you out of your thoughts.

You blank out for a moment too long. "What?"

"You came over to let me know I've spoiled you beyond reversing repair, without wantin' me to change?"

Why did you come over? Why did you decide to come up to Skyhaven one day, literally days away from your regular times of visiting him? Over something like this? Literal outdated information that you've only recently discovered.

Why? You don't know, but you're rushing to speak, holding onto his top. "That's not what I—"

"It's not what you what?"

He tilts his head down toward you and every coherent thought exits your headspace instantly. God, his eyes. They're darker now. Frustration brimming in the burning fuchscia, the indigo of his irises all-consuming.

"I can stop pamperin' you starting today." He offers.

The surfacing ache in your chest is abrupt, disruptive.

"Starting today, I won't buy your favorite snacks. I won't ever pat your head again. I'll leave you to fend for yourself in every fast food line, and you can get your own stuff when we go shopping. You can even do your shopping alone. Is that what you want?"

No. No, it's not what you want, but how do you express that? An entity, so puissant and arresting, is crawling up your esophagus, scraping at the backs of your teeth, trying to pry your mouth open, and wail its truth into the minimal distance between you and Caleb. It's an ugly feeling, one stripping you down to your base needs.

Pain bleeds into his expression, his eyes only softening as a thought crosses his mind. "Are you gonna tell me you don't need me again?"

"Caleb, no," you manage.

"If not, then what's the problem? It's too late. If I've ruined you, you've destroyed me."

You destroyed him? When? You've never... When have you ever—?

Your chagrin spikes in time with your bewilderment. "I never did anything like that."

Caleb peered into your eyes. Your soul. Questioning, a bit disbelieving. Like he can't really believe your own blindness. An incredulous laugh slipping through his nose when he realizes you weren't lying.

He takes a step forward. You're fully sandwiched between him and the door now, and one of his arms come up to rest above you on the surface. "Caleb–"

"I can't go through the grocery store without thinking of what you want for dinner." He admits, the revelation so tender and tied with candor. Your words die on your tongue and dissolve.

"I can't do my laundry anymore unless it's with your brand of fabric softener, since it reminds me of you. Every time I try on a new jacket, I wonder how it would look good on you."

The information comes pouring out of him like a geyser. And his voice is full of nothing but love. You press your hands to his chest with more force, but he won't budge. Your ears are scalding and you're avoiding his gaze now, his face.

"You dedicated a journal to me. You came to every basketball game." Caleb laughs, breathless. A little in awe of you, so full of adoration. "You always visited Skyhaven when I moved out. You pretended to be my girlfriend. You didn't want me to get a girlfriend. You kissed me at my graduation."

He stutters over himself at the end, sighing deeply and it's making your stomach do flips. "God, you kissed me."

Really? You're burning. Did he have to bring that up?

He's pulling you out of your thoughts yet again, using his hold on your yielding neck to find your gaze once more. You could crumble into ashes right now. In fact, you hoped the floor underneath you would just swallow you whole and leave nothing behind for Caleb to dissect.

"You're think you're spoiled, pipsqueak?" Another laugh, and it's mixed with raspy agony and disbelief, shining in his stare. "I'm rotten."

In Caleb's home, you never really heard much commotion. Simply the low hum of the television in the background, the living room a few paces away. Yet, your heartbeat was the soundtrack to his life, and he's made it his favorite ringtone.

You could feel his own racing heart under your palm. He looks defeated now, conflicted. Oh, Caleb.

"You never wanted me to take it back." He says it to himself. Like he's trying to get himself to believe it.

"You just wanted reassurance that I'd never leave you, no matter how coddled you are."

The heart that's thudding rapidly against your ribcage was so fickle, so naïve. It might jump out of your throat at this rate—God, Caleb could probably feel your pulse like this.

Your mind's racing. There's only one way you could resolve this rift formed from these series of revelations and confessions. You weren't going to lose him again. He has no right to leave after this.

"You're so quiet now. Don't tell me you're thinkin' of runnin' away, pipsqueak." His voice is lighter, more in jest now. The first sign of distance, denial.

You clasp his wrist, and whisper, "I'll take responsibility."

"What?"

"I'll take responsibility. For ruining you. In exchange, take responsibility for me too." You declare, louder. You sound more sure.

He's blinking at you now. Then, his brows furrow and a bewildered laugh leaves him. Before he could reply, you push forward, not allowing him any time to recover.

"I'm in your hands now, aren't I? You said so yourself. You did this to me. I did this to you. I'm yours to deal with."

You wind your arms around his neck, hearing how his breaths stutter and feeling his hand leave your throat. You're on your tippy toes, pulling him down so you could settle back against the door, feeling his grip settle over your waist. It's a lovely sensation. One so right. It cements your resolve.

"The only ones who can handle us are each other. Nobody else."

You don't know what you're saying anymore.

But you know you like the rising determination, you like whatever this is. You like the hope that swims in his gaze. The fear that's within them, terrified of this being one of your pranks. It wasn't; you'll prove it to hom.

"You can't make all these promises and leave me alone," You speak in a hushed tone, finality thick in the waver of your voice. You're leaning in before you can stop yourself and whispering, "I won't let you."

You can't help but feel like whatever game you two are playing now, you've lost. He's won yet again. Yet it doesn't quite feel like a loss this time around, not when Caleb's face is smoothing out into one of relief. One of contentment as he closes the distance.

The breath that fans over your mouth is hot and his voice is full of yearning, "I never planned on it."

#𐙚 ; bǎo bèi.#mimi.writes #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #lnd #lnd x reader #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace caleb x reader #lads caleb #lads caleb x reader #lnds caleb #caleb x reader #caleb fluff

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thelotusrabbit · 1 month ago

Text

STOP THE MUSIC! Part 2

Stop the music!

[Part 1] [Part 3] [sketch]

CW: for live insect consumption (don't worry, they get better)

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

Constantine warned them that the creatures of the Infinite Realms behaved on a logic of their own.

Never trust your senses.

When the time came for them to ask for help, nobody knew what to expect.

Or, you know, what not to expect.

The summoning ritual itself was weird enough.

Powdered milk for the circle; hard candy, glass beads, and buttons as catalysts, and… real butterflies as offerings.

The chant was even weirder, a nonsensical poetry made from several languages.

When they finished chanting, reality warped inside the circle, as an incomprehensible mass was taking form.

A kid.

Sure, he looked absolutely manic, but a kid.

“What in every sensational?! It hasn’t been flesh in a long time!”

He exclaimed.

There was a beat of silence, long enough to irritate the being.

“You flesh! Earn your keep!”

The kid emoted in an exaggerated way.

His white hair reached the floor, creating a cupola around him. His toxic-green eyes shined like those of a cat, with his pupils so small, they started to doubt he could actually see anything.

His teeth were always exposed, even if he wasn’t talking, and he was wearing what looked like a hazmat suit, too big for the scrawny body.

He was floating a few inches from the ground and didn’t seem to stop moving, always rocking from side to side.

“I uh… hi?

Barry tried to start the conversation.

They needed help with a strange artifact that fell from the Infinite Realms, and apparently, he was one of a few beings that didn’t need a blood sacrifice to be called.

The being lighted up (literally) when the Flash spoke up, his smile widening even more.

“Ho, ho! Oh, where has your poor stomach been? Is it gone, or cat’s got your tongue?”

There was another beat of silence.

“What?”

The being huffed, shaking his head.

At this point, Constantine groaned and stepped forward.

“I hate this part…”

He murmured, before clearing his throat and looking at the kid.

Then, in the whiniest voice a grown man can muster, he exclaimed:

“I don’t believe it, this is rich, it’s rich!”

Oh.

Everybody was too stunned to speak, as Constantine was trying to emote just as much as the kid.

The being nodded, seemingly agreeing.

“But hasn’t this been enough already? Bring out the loot”

Constantine turned around, giving the kid the jar of live butterflies they got.

The being unscrewed the lid and started to eat them out of the jar like chips.

The heroes looked a mixture of weirded out and horrified.

On the other hand, the kid looked pleased.

“Ah, nothing better than a cup of Joe in the morning”

It was the middle of the night.

He was eating butterflies out of a jar-

Constantine took a deep breath in, then started to tap his foot on the floor, as if impatient.

“Listen here now, and sit down. Only you can make due, and due is here to be made, now more haste, go for it!”

The being huffed and put the jar down

“Being employed is miserable”

He murmured, before seemingly turning inside-out and disappearing. Every butterfly that he ate was now peacefully flying around.

Constantine sighed, before rubbing his temples.

The members of the JL were staring at him, having understood absolutely fucking nothing of what just happened.

Batman was the first to step up.

"What happened?"

"He got the message, he's getting the artifact back to it's place."

"How do you know that?"

The blond gave them a deadpan glare, too done for the day.

“Clean up this mess, we're gonna talk about this after I have a drink.”

[Part 1] [Part 3] [sketch]

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton #danny phantom #dc universe #dp x dc prompt #writing prompt #eldritch danny #surrealism #Cw: eating live insects (sort of)#justice league #john constantine

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nichuuu · 5 months ago

Text

Beats Me - 7: Emails I Can’t Send

ft. Kim Minju

Word Count: 10k+

The first few minutes of your meeting are spent by Yeji and Yuna to catch up on life.

You sit by the side, detached from the conversation as you sip on the latte (what did they put in this thing? It’s so damn good). They relive some highschool memories, ask each other what they’ve been studying—the usual stuff. The croissants at the counter look really good, and you’re wondering if they’ll taste as good as they look. Maybe you should buy one later.

Yuna reminds you of Ryujin, only if Ryujin looked friendlier and less intimidating upon first glance. Her voice is distinct, her laugh even more so as she does that thing where she moves her feet like she’s running while she doubles over. Her eyes stay focused on her senior who—for the first time since you’ve seen her—is smiling. Yeji’s lanky fingers stay affixed to the straw, moving every now and then to disturb the ice as she stirs the drink. The coffee swirling in milk leaves light brown streaks against the side of her glass, creating these streaky patterns that look like they probably belong on an art piece. There are some details in her life that she briefly touches on but never delves into, probably because you’re there next to her.

Then it’s finally time. You’re dragged back into the conversation when Yeji says, “So you want to join the band?” and suddenly the cat that’s situated just outside the glass door doesn’t have your attention. Yea. Been looking for a chance to play, is Yuna’s reply, I saw you guys play at that bar the other time. You guys were great.

Eunbi should be here. She would’ve been ecstatic to hear that.

Yeji nods her head, stirring her drink idly as she silently looks at her junior. You hope that Yuna’s stratagem to enter isn’t just flattery. A sinking feeling tells you that it just might be, judging from the way she’s shifting under the gaze of her senior.

“Remind me Yuna: how many years have you played the saxophone for?” Yeji inquires. Yuna’s response is quick, almost rehearsed—five years now. Never stopped playing for a single moment in my life—and Yeji seems rather pleased by it. Yuna sips on her grapefruit ade, casting a glance your way as Yeji drums her nails against the table. You shoot the younger girl a reassuring smile, and hopefully she gets the message that she’s doing great in your books.

Then Yeji unfolds her arms, taps a nail before your crossed arms that rest on the table to get your attention. The same nail points towards Yuna, and its owner simply gestures with her chin. You get what she wants you to do, though you would’ve appreciated it if she’d just told you what she wanted, and you clear your throat while sitting up a little straighter.

“Um… Yeji kinda has me here to… Talk about my experience.” You internally cringe at your opening statement. What is this? An alumni sharing session? you chide yourself, all while you’re continuing on to whatever it is you have to say, “When you join this band, do expect yourself to be pushed a little. The hours aren’t all that taxing, but you gotta be able to… You know, strike that work life balance, as they say.”

And that’s just about all you have to say. Yeji neither smiles nor glares at you, only giving the smallest of nods as she focuses her attention on her junior. “If we give you a chart, you better learn it by heart by next practice. If we have a gig, practice will get more intensive. There’s a lot of things you need to be able to do Yuna. You can’t just think that you’re up to it; you have to be sure that you can shoulder all of these responsibilities.”

She’s making this sound like military recruitment, you’re thinking. Yuna’s definitely feeling a slight shift in atmosphere, and she’s fiddling with her glass as she stares straight into Yeji’s eyes. If you’re being honest: Yeji is definitely exaggerating the rigor of the band, and it’s probably scaring the poor girl. Your guitarist’s gaze isn’t at its peak intensity, but it’s enough to make Yuna purse her lips in silence, her smile fading from her face. Yeji greets her junior’s silence with a grim expression.

“So. Let me ask you again.” This time, Yeji’s tone is the furthest thing from gentle. “Are you ready to join us?”

Yuna stares at the melting ice in her glass. She takes a sip of her coffee, lets it sit in her mouth for a bit, and then swallows. “I’ll… I’ll text you when I’ve made up my mind.”

And all at once, it feels like all the happiness in the world has been sapped out of this cafe. Yeji stands up, leaving the rest of her latte untouched as she shoulders her bag and pushes in her chair.

“I’ll pay you for the latte,” she says, albeit a bit too nonchalantly after she’d single handedly brought down the mood. “Text me how much it costs, then text me again once you’re sure that you want in.”

She doesn’t even wait for you, doesn’t even look at you; she just turns on her heel and leaves. And for a moment, you sit there in awkward silence with Shin Yuna. You can’t help but feel bad for the poor girl who’d just been subjected to unwarranted coldness; and you want to comfort her, but you don’t know how. With a sigh, you take the straw out of your cup, bring the glass to your mouth and down the rest of your latte. Yuna’s eyes stayed trained on her own latte, which was close to untouched. She watches as a single drop of condensation rolls down the side of the glass, landing on her coaster and getting absorbed into the material.

“The band’s… Not as bad as she makes it sound,” you pipe, pausing for a brief moment to consider your words carefully. “Yeji tends to be a little… Mean sometimes.” Now that she has her eyes on you, you can’t help but feel a little shifty in your seat. She’s the type of girl that turns heads when she walks down the street, the type of girl that could probably get scouted by a model agency just by standing at a bus stop and looking at her phone. Not that her gaze is piercing or anything, but it’s just that she’s a little too breathtaking to make you feel okay sitting opposite her in a one on one. “Don’t think too much about it. I think you’ll make a great fit in the band.”

And then you decide to leave. It’s with great embarrassment that you state that you should take your leave, and it’s with great clumsiness and lack of grace that you stand up, bump your knee against the table, mutter a small and push your chair in before making a beeline for the door. The bell on the door chimes as you pull the door open, and it chimes again when you step out, and again when you close the door shut behind you—almost like it was laughing at you. So much for not being awkward.

“Thought you’d stay in there for a little longer.”

Hearing Yeji’s voice makes you jump, and you turn to find her petting the cat at the windowsill of the cafe. She isn’t even looking at you, not even a glance in your direction as you walk up to her and stop just before her.

“What the hell was that in there?” you can’t help but question. “You make us sound like we’re a fucking concentration camp while simultaneously making her feel like shit. How the fuck do you even do that?”

She gives the cat one last scratch between the ears, and the feline purrs under her touch. She rises from her squatting position and looks you in the eye. “That’s why I brought you here: to make her feel better.” She lets that linger in the air for a bit. “Okay. I’m going home.”

And she walks right past you like you aren’t going to be traveling in the same direction as her. A grunt of frustration slips out of your lips as you turn and catch up with her, matching her pace step for step.

“Did you seriously think,” you ask as you match her stride, “that a small ‘it’s alright’ from me would be enough to make her join?”

“Yep.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“Same goes for you.”

“What?”

The two of you stop at the traffic light, and she takes the time to adjust her hair over her shoulder and crack her neck like there isn’t someone talking to her on her immediate left. At this point, you are as good as a ghost to her.

“Why can’t you just be nice for once?” you don’t bother hiding the aggression in your tone, nor did you ever intend on doing so. “Is it really that hard? Do we have to go through a trial to earn your kindness?”

The light turns green and she puts away her phone. “I’m only nice to the people I trust, and neither you nor Yuna fall into that category.”

You bite your tongue, and you stay where you are as she walks across the road. She doesn’t look back, and you never expected her to. This conversation is hardly worth your time and emotional battery. You’re better off talking to some moss ball behind a dumpster, and the silence that you’ll receive is more welcoming than anything Hwang Yeji will ever say.

And so you walk elsewither from where she’s going and you just walk. You know for a fact that there’s no point in fuming over her behavior, and there’s definitely no point in figuring out how to get to her. Instead, you walk down a stretch of shops, letting your eyes wander across the various items that are being displayed at the windows: the jewelry, the clothes, the facial products, the bags, the—

Someone calls your name, and her voice is all too familiar. You’ve heard it just recently, over the phone with club music blaring over her voice. So yeah: you don’t need to turn to know who's made you stop in your tracks, but you do just because you need to see it to believe it

Kim Minju looks dazzling in her outfit:a set of black and short shorts that cover up the skin that’s exposed beneath the shirt-dress she wears. The lime green knitted Prada bag she has in her hands is a little bit jarring, a tad out of place on her monochrome outfit, and you guess that she probably grabbed it in a rush to get out of the house. Still: it looks like a purposeful mismatch, and perhaps your sense of fashion is just so bland that you simply just can’t appreciate the complexity of her outfit.

“Hey,” she greets—a mix of shock and surprise and glee on her face as she takes small steps towards you. It isn’t that big of a distance to cross, and she’s right in front of you in two-to-three small steps. She stops for a moment, lets her eyes wander across your face for a bit. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“Same goes for you,” you tell her. “Thought we’d just rub shoulders in the club and call it a day.”

Minju giggles, fidgets a little with the strap of her bag that sits nicely on her small shoulder. “You uh… you going somewhere?”

“Well um…” it’s hard to phrase what exactly it is you’re doing right now, because: a) you don’t exactly have a set location in mind and; b) you don’t know how to tell her that you were going away from somewhere that you were going to just now—ugh, it’s confusing to even think about. In the name of reducing the complications of your explanation, you opt for the best response you can possibly give at the moment: “No. Not really. How about you?”.

It’s not a lie; it’s half of the truth… Sort of? Ah fuck, why bother fretting over it?

She smiles, a toothless one where the corner of her lips gets tugged up by a set of invisible strings. It’s a charming little smile, and you have to admit that you love seeing the way it makes her eyes glimmer a little. “I just met my groupmates, and before you ask: it was a horrible session.”

You chuckle. “My condolences.” You rub your palms against your jeans as you speak, “must suck to be the smartest person in the group.”

She’s consistently been the brightest person in the room, perfect GPA, Valedictorian and everything. Sure: she already stands out because of her looks, but her smarts make her the whole package deal. The whole reason you met her in the first place was because you were failing Chemistry so badly in your first year that the teacher had to get her and her straight-As to step in and tutor you. She did a pretty good job, pulled your marks up from an E to a B and kept it there.

“Oh shut up,” she sighs, though the smile on her face never fades, “you know I hate it when you say shit like that.”

“Do you? Could’ve sworn that you lived off compliments back then.”

She clicks her tongue in annoyance, slaps your shoulder with the back of her hand. She hasn’t changed one bit. “Fuck you. You always were too damn cheeky.”

You shrug in response. She pushes back a strand of hair.

“You wanna grab a coffee?” Her question is one you’ve expected from the moment you bumped into her.

“I just had a latte, but I wouldn’t mind getting a Croissant.”

***

“You were one mark away from an A—this close to breaking your B streak.”

“It was an A in technicality. Careless mistakes that fuck me over don’t count, Minju.”

“Tell that to the Chemistry department then.”

“I think they would've dunked me in a vat of acid.”

“What type of Acid? Can you still remember which ones can melt skin off bone?”

“Welcome back Little Miss know-it-all.”

“The information will save you one day, mark my words.”

“Well I doubt I’ll ever come into contact with skin-melting Chemicals any time soon.”

“Don’t jinx yourself.”

“Hey, don’t tell me that when you were the one who was dubbed ‘bearer of bad news’.”

“It’s not my fault that I always have to relay the bad news to the class! I was the fucking class president!”

“Oh right.”

“Oh right. You sound so stupid.”

“Says the one giving me a lecture.”

“I’d hardly constitute this as a lecture.”

“Look at you using big words.”

“I’m going to throw this fucking coffee at you.”

“It’s a good latte. I wouldn’t recommend you wasting your money like that.”

“You’re a child.”

“Aren’t we all young at heart?”

“Young at heart is one thing. Immaturity is another.”

“I’d argue that you’re the immature one here.”

“Says the one who’s always getting himself involved in some shit every other day.”

“I wouldn’t blame that on my immaturity.”

“So you do admit that you’re immature.”

“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth.”

“It’s not my fault that you say stupid things.”

“But it’s you that uses my stupid things to… Fuck. That won’t sound right.”

“Did you just lose your train of thought mid sentence?”

“I was running what I was about to say through my head.”

“You do that while you speak? You’re so weird.”

“Oh so you’d rather me spit out nonsense all the time?”

“Yea, so I can insult you over it.”

“Ugh. You’re so kind Minju.”

“Thank you. I pride myself with my heart of gold.”

“The same one that made you a pushover with your ex?”

“We both know that he manipulated me.”

“And you kept making excuses with him because you refused to see the bad in him.”

“Okay, I admit that that was a bit of a misplay on my end.”

“You dated him for two years.”

“I didn’t want to be lonely, okay? Everyone in the damn friend group was dating, I felt left out!”

“But we were in healthy relationships. Yours looked like the physical embodiment of type two diabetes.”

“Oh. So you’d consider your relationship with Kim Chaewon a healthy one?”

“It was till… You know.”

The silence that follows is deafening, and Minju’s smile fades.

“Shit. I went a little overboard with that one,” how apologetic she sounded made you feel bad. Not that you ever intended to be a wet blanket, but the hesitance in your voice must have killed the mood or something. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

You waved it off. “All jokes,” you assure her with a forced smile. “Nothing was or has been taken to heart. I promise.”

She purses her lips, and when she parts them, they make a small smack. You take a moment to take another stab at your croissant and send another bit into your mouth. And yes: it does taste as good as it looks.

“How are things with you and her anyway?” She asks, setting down her half-full glass of latte. “Are you guys doing alright? Talking now?”

You imagine the look of shock on her face when you tell her that you made out with your ex and fucked her after you took her home, and make the executive decision to skip the details and give her a more vague (and untrue) answer: “We’re uh… Reconciling I guess.”

She nods, and you can’t tell if it’s one of approval or one of disappointment. She’d been the number one supporter of your relationship with Chaewon; imagine her shock when you told her one fine morning over the phone that the two of you had broken up.

“Forgive me for continuing on this subject, but,” the addition of that but really spoke volumes of how she wasn’t gonna let you interject, even if you really wanted to just stop talking about it. She’s not one to be self-centred, but when she has something to say, you have a guaranteed earnings if you bet on the fact that she’ll get it out one way or another. You always let her get away with it, only because you have a bit of a soft spot for her, and she has a bit of a soft spot for you too—you did spend a large amount of time in your first year of highschool in the library with her after all. “I always thought that you and Chaewon would be, you know, a ‘forever couple’.”

“Well I’m sorry we ruined your drama fantasies,” you reply, trying to bring the conversation back to the light-hearted talk it was just a couple of minutes ago. “Some things just don’t work out in the end—the relationship was just one of those things.”

This time, you decode her nod as one of understanding and sympathy. “Well… As long as you’re okay now.” she rolls her straw between her forefinger and thumb, watching as it twists left and right in her fingers and disturbs the latte before her. “You seem to be doing well with your whole band gig and all.”

“You could say that.” You set down your fork and dab the corners of your mouth with a napkin while you swallow the rest of your croissant. “Chaewon and I will learn to… Coexist eventually. I hope so at least.”

“You guys better sort it out,” she muses. “I doubt I can keep baby-sitting her at the club for much longer. I have a life too, you know?”

“I feel like that’s more of a problem for her to settle than us.” you’re barely hiding the disdain in your voice as you stare at crumbs that are left on your plate. “It’s not my problem if she gets drunk. She made the choice to go drinking herself.”

“But you made it your problem just a day ago,” Minju points out.

“Only because it was the only way to get her out of that damn club.”

“You could’ve chosen not to come.”

“And leave you guys to deal with her?”

“It was me and Eunbi. We could’ve dragged her out.”

“But—“

“Just admit that you actually cared. You and I both know that you’re too much of a fucking sweetheart to ever let someone struggle when you can help.”

And she stumps you with that one, because you don’t know how to reply to that. Is that a compliment or an insult? Frankly, you didn’t know, but you do know that you’re surprised by the fact that anyone can ever use the word sweetheart in such an aggressive manner. It’s like telling someone you love their outfit before punching them in the face.

Okay, maybe not that extreme… But you get the gist.

“Maybe I did have a soft spot for her,” you mused. It’s half self-realisation, half-reply. “But even so: you guys would go through all nine circles of hell just to get her up and out of the club.”

Minju draws her lips into a thin line. She lifts her straw to her mouth, lets it hover just in front of her lips for a bit, then places the glass back down on the table heavily. A small, substantial thump sends a small tremor through the table. She stares into her glass. “What even happened when you took her home anyway?”

You shrug and put down your fork to wipe your mouth—actions that mask the fact that you want to cringe at yourself over what happened. You’ve done a lot of lying today (what would your mother say?), and you’re pretty sure that all of this will come back and bite you in the ass some day. But for now, you’d like to save yourself some embarrassment as you say, “Helped her with her hangover. Gave her a meal. Then she left.”

Minju looks at you for a moment. Then she sighs and shakes her head.

“You’re too kind for your own good,” she mutters. Her fingers stay wrapped around her glass as she speaks, beads of condensation slowly running down the clear walls of her cup and sliding down her knuckles. She raises her head, just enough to establish eye contact with you. “Then again: your soft little heart was the reason I had a crush on you.”

Okay. She skipped a lot of ground there.

You blink. You blink again. She stares straight into your eyes throughout—doesn’t break eye contact or anything. Not that you didn’t take her seriously, but just that you were a little… Well, stunned.

“Bottom line: you care about her. Don’t let her manipulate you okay?” Minju tells you, finally raising the star to her mouth and taking a nice long sip from her latte. When the straw is released from between her lips, she smacks her lips in satisfaction and leans back in her seat. You’re still staring if anyone’s asking, and yes: you are indeed thinking, what the fuck?

Minju shoots you a look of disdain. “What?” she asks as she straightens the collar of her shirt dress. “Why are you looking at me like that? Cut it out.”

Okay: aside from the fact that you’re shocked by the fact that she isn’t addressing the elephant in the room (the one that she placed there by her damn self), you’re reeling over the fact that she’s just casually dropped this hell-of-a piece of news on you like it was just an update on life or something; oh I used to like, you know, see you more than just a friend, but no biggie.

You blink. You blink again. She grabs the straw and tosses it out of the glass, gulps the rest of her latte in a single swallow and wipes her lips with the back of her hand.

“If you’re wondering if the feelings are still there, the answer is no,” she tells you, picking up a napkin to clean up the corners of her mouth. “The keyword was had you big dummy. Stop thinking so much about it. You look stupid.”

The faculties to reply return to you, but you can’t do much but sputter a very confused wha? as Minju examines her nails for a bit. She smirks, then grabs her bag and rises from her seat.

“If my news is killing you that bad, why don’t we talk about it over a nice dinner?”

***

True to her word, she does open up about everything over the course of the meal, albeit after a couple of glasses of wine.

“You were so cute and so damn loveable,” she muses, unashamed as she pours herself another glass. She took you to some nice restaurant a few streets away, and you’re kinda regretting your decision to eat that croissant for tea because fuck does the food here taste good. Minju settles into her seat, glass in hand as she stares at the scarlet liquid. “You bought me dark chocolate on my period, got me a snack after we had a session because I was hungry… You’re pretty fucking handsome too, you know that?”

All of this is, of course, news to you, and you’re struggling to internalise the fact that she would ever think about you in such a way. Your own wine glass has remained full for the entire duration of your meal, and you choose this time to take a sip to help you process all of… Well, this.

“So… How long did you, you know, like me?” you can’t help but ask. Not that it was the first question on your mind or anything, but more of the fact that you needed to say something to prevent this conversation from descending into awkward silence. Comfortable was the last word you’d use to describe how you feel.

“Huh…” Minju mutters. She swirls her glass for a bit. She takes a sip, swirls more. Her gaze turns inwards and her mouth moves in a soundless count. “If you don’t count the summer break where I figured out that I wanted nothing more but to kiss you? About a year and a half.”

You do the maths in your head and come to an epiphany. Minju beats you to it and verbalises your thoughts: yea, yea… I liked you while you were dating Chaewon, which means that I liked you when I was dating that deadbeat baseball player, which meant I was unfaithful by technicality, but I stuck with that sick fuck to try and make you jealous.

Frankly, you’re not too sure why you are being thrown into emotional situations with people of your past over the course of the last two days. You want this to be some sort of dream, and you want, so badly, for Minju to burst out laughing and hit you with a, this was all a joke! I just wanted you to accompany me for dinner, that’s all, and call it a day. Maybe you two could get ice cream afterwards, laugh this silly prank off on a bench somewhere and then bid farewell for the night. But judging from the way Minju stares solemnly at her plate, you can pretty much infer with full confidence that she means every word she says. Even as she chews her steak slowly, you can feel her lingering on some thoughts that she won’t verbalise—not now at least. Maybe she’ll text you about it a couple weeks for months down the road, and all of this will just resurface for, like, a day or two at most. Bottom line: she’s pretty serious about everything she just said, and she’ll most likely remind you of this conversation in this nice restaurant that you can never come back to again. The food is nice but it's nowhere in your tax bracket.

“So uh,” Minju brings your attention back to her. She leaves you hanging for a bit as she pokes a cherry tomato with her fork and sends it into her mouth. You hear a soft crunch as she chews, and you can’t help but feel a little bit uncomfortable with the presented silence that follows. She dabs the corners of her lips with a napkin. She swallows. “About what happened with Chaewon after you took her to your place: did you leave out the part where you fucked her in the ass on purpose? Or did she drug you and you forgot everything?”

And it feels like time freezes as she picks up her wine glass and gulps down the rest of the scarlet liquid in there. When she looks at you with those piercing, knowing eyes, you wonder how much she knows about you and Chaewon; what does she know and what are the details she has sitting in some locker in the corners of her mind.

“Chaewon has a pretty big mouth you know,” Minju remarks, a small—almost mocking—pout on her lips as she plays with the vegetables on her plate. “She tells me just about anything and everything that goes on in her life, just saying.”

So that’s enough to tell you that she knows more than she should. You wonder if there are any other people Chaewon runs her mouth to.

“If you’re gonna call me a loser, just do it,” you mutter. You suddenly find the urge to down the rest of your wind irresistible. You act on your impulse, and you grimace a little as the alcohol burns your throat on the way down. It’s probably not recommended to consume liquor the way you are drinking it right now, but you couldn’t care less at this point. You kind of need this drink right now. This day has been full of unexpected things: unexpected meetings to unexpected feelings to god knows what else is on its way. “But before you say anything, she started it. I was the victim.”

Minju chuckles. You don;t really find anything about this entertaining right now, but there will certainly be an element of humour to this conversation that you will probably discover after some hindsight. Minju sets down her cutlery and folds her arms. “I understand”, she tells you, making sure to hold your gaze as she rests her cheek in her palm. “Trust me. Calling you a loser is, like, the 2nd thing on my mind right now.”

“And what’s the first?”

She looks left, then right, then leans in a little. “Was the sex good?”

Honestly, you shouldn’t be shocked. She’s always been a bit cheeky in nature, a little bit lickerish and maybe a little indecent. You’ve seen it, heard it, known it for the longest time—yet you can’t stop yourself from raising both eyebrows when she drops the question on you. MAybe it’s the lack of hesitance; the question coming right at you like a fastball after you gave her your end of the situation. It’s a little devious: the way she just gives it to you straight without any room for silence and pondering. You’ll give her that.

“I mean,” she continues, not even giving you time to even try and rationalise the question. “I imagine that her pussy’s already tight as fuck. Her ass? God I can only imagine what that was like for you.”

Now it’s getting a little confusing. The lines between wry and genuine interest are being blurred here, and you’re not even sure if this is really a conversation you’re having with her right now. Her bluntness and lack of consideration towards you is a little appalling given her remorse in the cafe. Maybe it’s the wine. Yea, it’s probably the wine…

“What the fuck?” Is all you can manage as you affix your gaze on her with a look of shock that could probably win you an award if this was a movie. Minju pushes back some hair, fingers deftly tucking them behind her ear as she fixes you with a look. You have no idea where this conversation is going, and you really, really hope that she doesn’t continue on this line of talk. Of course, you have a bad track record of getting what you wish for.

Minju leans in even more, gets even closer. You’re not sure if you should move or do anything at this juncture. She cocks her head a little, smirks.

“Wanna find out if I’m a better fuck then her?”

***

Why did you follow her back to her apartment? You don’t even know. Best guess: you weren’t really thinking after she spoke and just went with it. Or maybe: you might have looked at her all weird and somehow ended up agreeing (she’s a sweet talker and you certainly wouldn’t put it past her). There are about ten possibilities that you can think of—eleven if you added the one that just formulated in your brain about a second ago—all of which are equally confusing and hard to fathom. It’ll take some time and probably a cup of coffee or two to figure out.

But focus up: there are a lot more pressing matters right now, matters like the fact that her lips are firmly pressed against yours while your back is against the closed and locked door of her apartment. Frankly, you don’t even know how the hell you two got locked in this kiss; could’ve sworn the two of you were just talking at the restaurant a couple of minutes ago. Everything’s a little hazy, and it’s a little worrying considering that you only had one or two… Maybe three? Yea, probably three… Let’s just say there was a couple more glasses of wine after she asked if you if she could potentially be a better fuck, and here you are now. It seems like your relationship with alcohol and women all lead to the same destination. It’s a problem for sure, but you can settle that later.

There’s a rather loud smack as she removes her lips from yours—for air of course. Gazing deep into your eyes, she smiles as she tells you, god I’ve always wanted to do that, before she re-establishes the connection of lips. The kiss is aggressive: nothing short of fervent and definitely not holding back on the restraint. If there was a way to properly kiss someone, Kim Minju was certainly taking it up another step. Her tongue pokes through your lips, invades past your teeth and pushes itself deep into your mouth till it dances with yours. It’s starting to get a little messy, a little more raunchy and, uh… Well—you get the gist. Your brain’s certainly not functioning the way it should be.

Are you drunk? Probably not.

She starts to pull you by the shirt—away from the door and towards the living room. Her place is pretty big, and there's enough space for the two of you to stumble and fumble around till you find a flat surface that you can proper her up on and spread her legs. The surface in question is a table. It’s probably her dining table, and it creaks as Minju undoes the clasp of her sheer shorts that really shouldn’t be classified as shorts in any world. The article of clothing comes off together with your jeans, and they’re both tossed aside before your hands are on her hips and pulling her towards you. Her ass slides over the wood, hissing as her skin drags along a small distance so that she can grip your face in her palms and crash her lips against yours. You close your eyes, enjoy the feel of her warm body pressing against yours while those gentle hands sink fingers into the flesh of your cheeks. A dark part of you takes a little pleasure in the pain.

“Fuck.” You love the lilt in her voice after she breaks the kiss. “I see why Chaewon likes to kiss you now,” she lets her hands roam across your face, brushing away the bits of your hair that fall in front of your eyes, almost as if she wants you to see her and only her. “You kiss so well. Feels like I’m kissing a marshmallow with lips.”

“Do I even want to know how you came up with that analogy?” you question. She grins.

“Just trust it. I did get a higher score than you in just about every subject except music.”

You chuckle. She goes in for a kiss; you make a beeline for the column of milky skin at her neck, savour the sharp inhale that sucks air through her teeth and sounds like more of a hiss. You kiss her jaw, trail it up to her neck then back down to her collarbone. Every touch of your lips on her skin makes her sigh.

“Try not to mark me where people can see,” she whispers. “There’s only so much skin that makeup can cover without ruining my outfits, and foundation is really fucking expensive these days.”

(Now there’s the debate of whether that was a challenge or a precautionary measure. She’s always been a bit of a cheeky one: trying people on and giggling as she does so. You’ve been the victim of her antics before, but it’s kind of hard to deduce whether she’s telling you, don’t do it or inviting you to leave hickeys all over her neck and wherever you could get your lips on.)

“And if I do?” you can’t help but ask. Minju chuckles and pushes you away by your shoulders.

“Don’t.” She’s firm when she says it, almost like she’s chiding you for ever considering it. For a moment, you look each other in the eye as your breaths poke holes through the silence. It’s a little chilling yet a little thrilling, and you can’t help but take in the way she looks in the dim light of the night. In the midst of stumbling in, neither of you ever considered turning on the lights. She’s painted in soft strokes of moonlight, eyes shimmering in the gentle glow of night. Beautiful. She’s always been so beautiful, but never this beautiful. “I know you want to, but don’t,” she reiterates. You’re a little disappointed, but there are, of course, other ways to leave your mark on her.

And so your hand snakes down and finds its way between her parted legs. Your other hand slithers around that small waist, and it holds her in place as your fingers press against the fabric of her panties. In your arms, she tenses—bristles as you start to feel the outline of her lips against your fingertips. You increase the pressure against her heat. Minju tilts her head back and moans.

Fuck. You don’t think you’ve ever heard such a sound: angelically filthy, airy and soft. It’s already hard enough to grasp the concept of her, one of your closest friends that you haven’t seen in a few good years or so, propped up on her own dining table while you trace the outline of her pussy through her panties and leave her squirming atop the wooden surface. Add the small choked up cries she’s making into the mix and by God do you have a recipe for a haze. Where to begin? This situation shouldn’t be real at all; none of this should be real, this should be a dream. This heat against your fingers. The sight of her mouth parted and her body twitching with each stroke of your fingers. The very realisation that this is as real as it gets, and it’s unfolding right before you by the second.

“Why are you so fucking wet?” you ask, noting the way she shudders as you let your finger hover over the base of her opening for a bit. Her thighs—pale skin painted in the lightest shades of moonlight—twitch in anticipation, almost as if the blood in her veins is loading up inside there and would shoot forward the moment you start moving again. She can’t predict what you’re gonna do next, and it’s killing her in a way that brings you this sick satisfaction. Minju whimpers; you chuckle. “Do you really want it this bad Minju? Has no one touched you like this before?”

(Her bottom lip quivers as she struggles to compose herself. She breathes: raspy and staccato. Strands of hair hang in front of her face, the same one that has this pleading look superimposed over bratty frustration. It’s hot, really satisfying and really challenging you take some liberties with her. Sure: it’d be really fun to just stuff her full of cock and just have your way with her right here and now, but where’s the fun in that? You’ve known her as this smart, preppy girl who’s always gotten what she wants because she’s smart and rich. You can't remember the last time you saw her fail. Maybe she did face a bit of a setback when she was starting out in university, but as far as you’re concerned, she’s in need of a bit of humbling.)

It’s all enough to drive anyone mad really. So you can’t really blame her when she cries oh god just fuck me already! at a volume that would probably get her a noise complaint from one of her neighbours. It’s a little jarring, and it makes you stop and look at her for a second or two. She looks back at you, giving you those fuck me eyes that you didn’t know she was capable of as she starts to bite down on her lower lip.

With that face and that aura, she—whether unwittingly or not—painfully reminds you of Chaewon. That same bratty persona mixed with that undeniable look of need—it’s killing you to look her in the eye a she starts to grind herself against your fingers, pleading you to get on with it—please, please, please just strip me and fuck me and make me your good little toy—while she fixes you with that pleading look. Her doleful eyes coax you, and it feels dangerous to even look into them, let alone gaze into them as pulls you closer with her legs and grabs your shaft through your underwear.

“Tease me all you want later,” she squeezes your cock—sweet, sinful pleasure. Those weapons of a pair of eyes slice into the deepest depths of your mind, appealing to the darker part of you to let loose and take control. She wants it, needs it more than anything else right now. “You can finger me, eat me, whatever… Just put this fucking cock inside of me and make me scream before you do anything else.”

She’s given you a list of priorities, and they really speak volumes of her personality. Funnily enough, it’s pretty in line with her character: goal oriented and focused on that success rather than the process. You wonder what would happen if you refused to give her that final goal she so desperately craves; what it could do and to what extent would it break her. You take some time to consider this as you slip your hands into the spaces between the upper buttons of her shirt.

“Minju.” You call her name out of politeness in wake of what you’re about to ask her. “How much was this shirt?”

The glint in her eye when she catches your implicit message is enthralling. She pushes her bottom lip behind her front teeth; fixes you with this look that tells you that she's' about to say something that’s gonna satisfy your desires just because she can and she gets off on it.

“It’s Prada,” she tells you. “But I can always get another.”

You grin, and with more strength than intended, you pull against the fabric of the shirt. Unfortunate buttons go flying as the fabric parts forcefully like velcro ripping apart. Nothing tears (surprisingly), but the shirt is most definitely unwearable for a while. You hope she knows how to sow.

She gasps when the cold air of her apartment suddenly hits her skin. You can’t really blame her — it all comes in a rush after she is stripped from her sole piece of clothing. She takes a moment to assess the damage done to her clothes. Her eyes wander along the naked strip of fabric her shirt buttons once called home. Then she looks at you, smirks.

“Hot,” she muses, lowering herself down till she’s on her elbows. “But I think you can do better than that.”

You like a good challenge. And with not too much kindness in your voice, you tell her to get rid of the rest of her clothing. There’s a smouldering look in her eye, and a smirk on her face as she tosses her hair out of her face. Then while she holds your gaze, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulls them down — keeps going till there somewhere far enough down those long, creamy legs for her to kick them aside.

“That was a limited edition piece, can’t have you tearing that,” she explains, looking at the freshly discarded article of clothing. “My bra though? I got it at a convenience store in Japan. Do your worst.”

The bra doesn’t survive. It’s a shame really… It looked kinda nice.

And basking in your gaze is a very naked Kim Minju, her skin practically glowing on top of her table as she looks up at you with those eyes of want. You take a moment – admire the supple curves in all the right places and the way her skin seems to ripple a little as she shudders. Three’s no doubt in your mind that the surface she has her back against is cold as hell, but Fuck… this probably was the best place to have her like this – she looks like a fucking meal.

“You know,” you whisper, your index finger roaming up her body – starting from the base of her belly button and making its way up an imaginary line that you’ve drawn on her body. “You’re kinda fucking perfect.”

She chortles. “Um… Contradictory much?”

“Spare me the lesson,” you mutter, cupping her cheek firmly yet tenderly. You have no idea what this feeling in your chest is right now, but you do know that it’s gonna take you down a path you never explored before. “Now I just wanna make a mess out of you.”

You don’t wait for a reply. Heck, you don’t even give her time to craft a reply. No teasing, no testing the waters; you just get your cock in your hand, line it up with her slit and pump yourself into her for the first time.

And even though she has this look of offence on her face, you know that this is probably the hottest thing she’s ever experienced. It’s a non-verbal statement that tells you that: her eyes burn with a heat you often see in Chaewon when she’s just being a downright bitch, yet her lips part and her head tilts back to let a moan be drawn out from the deepest parts of her. You don’t quite know how you’re processing these cues with the novel sensation of her hot cunt around your cock (it squeezes and pulses at just the right places that make you twitch inside her and it’s like… So fucking hot in there) that welcomes you into the depths of the woman beneath you. Every little thing is just hitting like a fucking sledge hammer now. You can feel her heat around you, burning like fire in this cold apartment. Alcohol must really be setting in.

Minju takes a moment to collect herself, and after she does, she looks at you to send another non-verbal cue your way.

This one means fuck me.

This whole situation is far from sophisticated; a little more filthy than you care to admit. It’s not what you’re used to with the other women you’ve been with. Eunbi likes teasing, Ryujin likes to play around a little; Karina is just downright submissive, Yeji a little more subservient than she lets on; Chaewon is… well, Chaewon – bratty and really whiny when she fucks.

But Minju? This is a whole new chapter for you.

First impressions tell you that she’s just downright needy; a little bratty like Chaewon as she starts to whine a little while you start pumping in and out of her slick heat. Her legs lock around your waist, feet crossed behind your back. She pulls you in each time you thrust into her – pulls you deeper into her warmth and moans a little louder when you hit the right spot. You match her speed, and soon you're thrusting her with firm, fast strokes. It makes her throw back her head for a bit, a cry leaving her straining throat as she sets rolls with this tempo.

Her torso remains supported on her elbows, her small breasts that sit proudly atop her chest bouncing with each smack of your crotch against hers. She realigns her gaze with yours. Her eyes stay wide open, gazing right into yours as she holds your attention with this debauched gaze that makes your mind fill with wild, wild thoughts. You’re fucking her on the table, but you’re thinking about what it’d be like to have her against the wall, against the counter, on her knees; riding you on her couch, jumping on your cock on her bed…

This woman is gonna fucking ruin you.

“Chaewon said that the dick was fucking good,” she’s quipping between her moans, and you know it’s taking considerable effort for her. She has to close her eyes when she speaks, and in doing so she frees you from her hypnotic gaze. “No that it’s actually filling me… I think she could be downplaying how good you feel.”

And you have to smirk. “You think so ?”

Her eyes snap open, traps you yet again. “Do you have any idea how fucking hot you feel inside me?” she gasps. You have to admit that it sounds a bit more like she’s demanding you to figure out how good she feels right now/ ow fucking good your dick feels in my pussy? How–ngh… How good you fuck me?”

Emphasis on ‘fuck’ tells you that she likes this pace, this no-nonsense playing field that you’ve established from the moment you filled her for the first time. She never struck you as one to like it rough, someone who likes it when it kinda stings when you fill her. Then again, you didn’t expect her to hold feelings for you either, so you guess the world just has a bunch of mysteries that you have to unpack in your own time.

Currently, you’re just trying to unpack how fucking good she feels around you.

“You’re fucking filthy,” you hiss through your teeth. “Never knew Miss valedictorian liked being railed like this.”

She smiles through her pleasure – a half-curl upturn of the corners of her lips as she lets the sighs and gasps freely depart from her open lips. It would be a cute smile if it weren’t for the fact that you’re literally fucking her on the same surface she eats on. Not that she has any problem with it; it’s just kinda telling of how badly she wants you right now. Pretty hot honestly – feels a little dark but you like the fact that she just couldn’t wait and just found the nearest flat surface she could spread her legs for you on.

“I’ll let you in on something,” and it really looks like she’s pushing back moans in her throat. She isn’t very successful. Effort is commendable though. “As sweet as any girl looks, we all kinda like being fucked like a slut.”

You manage a chuckle. “And does that apply for you?”

You love the way her eyes gleam. She lets herself lie flat on her table.

“That’s for you to find out.”

And you understand why she’s laid herself across the table for you. It’s an invitation to her body, a request for you to touch the parts of her and hold her like she’s yours. She’s watching you intently, waiting to see what you’ll do while you keep pumping in and out of her. You respond by grabbing her shoulders, pulling her up straight till her chest flushes against yours. Her hands wrap around your neck, her breath in your ear.

“Come on you pussy,” she drawls. “I’m not Chaewon or Eunbi, so stop fucking me like you’d fuck them.”

Your hands find purchase in the firm flesh of her ass. Your fingers dig into the skin.

Then you’re fucking her – hard, fast. It takes her by surprise, by storm. Her gasp is strained, her voice louder in your ear now that she’s dug her chin into your shoulder. Her arms tense around your neck, her thighs tighten around your waist. You can feel her start to tremble as she struggles to keep herself upright. She holds you tighter, closer. She starts to moan more than she gasps. Her sighs turn to whines, her whines to cries and then to keening.

In a matter of seconds, she’s found herself lost in her own pleasure, willingly and blissfully letting herself slink beneath the steadily growing stream of perverse want and need that flows from her mouth. She doesn’t have any smart quips left in her, no lessons or lectures – just this burning ache for you and the meat between her legs. You can feel the throbbing in her pussy, hear the squelch of your cock sliding between her lips getting louder as you go faster. You want—so badly—to lose yourself in her warmth and her heat. You want nothing more than to just put your lips on hers and kiss her through this wave of passion you’re feeling.

So—against her wishes—you put your lips on her neck, starting sucking. You sense hesitation in her body, but it quickly fades and she tips her head to the side. She lets you have your way with her, relenting against you and letting you nibble on her skin as you piston yourself in and out of her.

“I hope you’re giving me something no other girl will experience,” she rasps. She’s shaking a little, her nails starting to dig into your back. “Fuck me like I’m the one that matters. I need it.”

You lift your lips off her neck. The skin is starting to change colour. “Minju,” you don’t know how you manage, but you just do. “You’re the best woman I’ll ever fuck.”

“Mhm?” she hums. It’s a little shaky and it’s high-key hot. “Is—mphm… is my pussy better than Chaewon’s?”

And there’s that common thread between her and your ex: that desire to know that they’re better than someone else. You’ll please her for tonight. “So much better.”

She quite literally twitches at that, reeling in the thought that she’s taking cock better than her friend ever would. “Ngh– am I tighter? Am I wetter?”

You move so that you can look her in the eye. “Shut up and let me fuck you, would you?”

The look in her eyes tells you that she’s proud of what she’s done. She lets her forehead press against yours. Her eyes close. “Okay… But only because I still kinda love you.”

How are you going to deal with her? With this?

You don’t. You dive back into the crook of her neck, lengthen your strokes into her. It’s all too much to handle right now. Too many emotions are in play; too many thoughts need attention. You just want her, no strings attached and no need to spout all this nonsense about love and wanting to be loved. You kinda hate her for it, so you fuck her harder. You don’t like that she’s bringing feelings into this like Chaewon, so you fuck her harder and harder till she’s almost crying.

She loves it, every second of it.

“Yes,yes,yes…” you can tell that she’s trying not to lose it all together, or maybe you’re just projecting. You can’t shake the feeling that your silence in response to her confession tells her that you’re gonna let her live this fantasy down right now. “Oh god you… Oh my fucking god.”

For long minutes, there’s nothing on your mind except her. You love the way she tenses and relaxes in your grasp, how she lets her body respond freely to your movements; the way her milky, smooth skin starts to bead with sweat, her hair sticking to her back; how her voice is kinda hoarse, how her lips claim your earlobe and she bites a little. As much as she’s frustrating, she’s entrancing. She’s hot, admittedly tighter than some of the girls you’ve fucked but also charming in her own way. Her moans aren’t the guttural type you get out of Karina or Eunbi, but more like a gentle yet kinda sordid exclamation of pleasure. Her breath is hot on your skin, a little hotter than you expect, but hot nonetheless. Her slim figure rocks against you, jolting when you get yourself nice and deep in her cunt, turning her into a nice bundle of nerves.

“I… Fuck… I’ve wanted this for so long,” she gasps. “But you’re here, actually here and… Fuck you’re just so fucking hot.”

And you know that’s her way of telling you that you’re better in real life than you ever will be in her wildest dreams. She’s turned on by the fact that you’re here, in the flesh and fucking her the way she likes it. Even though she surrenders to you, she’s gotten her way tonight. You’re fulfilling her desires just by being here, and your rock hard shaft drilling its way inside of her is really just a cherry on top.

(She’s kinda right: as sweet as she is, she likes being fucked like a slut.)

Even though it’s kinda her fault, Minju is your distraction, your break from it all. You give in: lose yourself in her smell, in her skin, in her flesh. You let yourself get absorbed in it all — her gasps, her cries; the way her pussy only gets tighter, the way her legs shake around you; the fire in your chest that drives your cock in and out of her cunt in firm, long strokes; the heat of her body against yours as she starts to tense in your grasp.

Then she’s cumming — a hot mess on her dining table as cock spears into her through her orgasm. Her walls clench around you, her nails claw at your back. She cries your name. She says she loves you over and over and over till the faculties of her speech give way and she goes a little slack in your arms. You revel in it, do your best to block out the parts that make you ache a little on the inside; fuck her through the wave of an orgasm she goes through and relish the feel of her tight pussy getting tighter and wetter. You don’t know how to put it into words, but all you can really say is that she’s fucking beautiful through it all – smutty art or maybe even straight up porn.

When you join her, you don’t even ask if you can cum in her; she’s gotten enough of her way tonight. With a final few pumps into her, you relent to the tingling in your shaft and bury yourself inside her. Your grunt is rather guttural, your load hot inside of her slick wet cunt. She sighs, almost as if she’s welcoming it into her body. You savour the moment. It’s a treat for yourself.

You stay like that for a bit — leaning against Minju and panting while you gather yourself again. She gently strokes your hair as she smiles at you, more than happy to keep you with her as you regain your bearings.

And just because she can, she kisses you on the cheek.

You can’t meet her gaze much longer. You turn your gaze downwards as you remove yourself from her pussy, watching as the mix of your juices flow out of her freshly-fucked cunt. She hums as it flows down from her slit.

“Forget what I said okay?” she requests, sounding remorseful as she takes your cheek in her hand. “You’re good at not taking things to heart, so do that for me, would you?”

You manage a small smile and nod.

Then she kisses you, softly.

“Thank you…” she breathes. “You just helped me delete some emails to you that I can never bring myself to send.”

***

You’re kinda in shambles to be honest.

Minju’s showering, which means that you have enough time to think about what your life has become. All these emotions are coming forth so suddenly, so quickly. You barely have time to process your school work and now this has come along and fucked you sideways. It makes your head hurt.

You decide to leave before she can get out of the shower. You can’t bear to see her again, but you do drop a text—Thanks for letting me crash. See you around—once you’re out of her apartment complex. You’re ashamed, but you were raised to know better than to leave without saying anything. But even though you do what you feel is right, something about what you’ve done doesn’t quite sit well with you.

And you’re in the park when the realisation hits. On the bench, you bury your head in your hands.

You’ve done to Minju what Chaewon did to you.

Had this one sitting in the drafts for quit some time. Realised I actually never posted it so here it is I guess. Happy New Year everyone! Have this unedited work as a gift while I work on another fic because I can.

#kpop #fanfic #smut #kim minju #minju smut #izone minju

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littlelovelunette · 3 months ago

Note

Sevika and a pregnant reader? Reader feels self-conscious about how her body has changed so Sevika has to fix that (smut please)

Little Bump

Contains smut, oral, pregnancy sex

You knew Sevika adored your baby bump because she'd stay up most of the night talking to it which you thought was a little ridiculous.

But did you like it?

Nuh-uh, I mean yeah it was sweet and all that you were carrying a symbol of your love with Sevika inside of your body, a little human of your own— but the stretch marks and body image issues it came with wasn't so fun afterall.

Although you were partially aware something like this would've happened because of all the darn pregnancy books you binged through, let's just say it's not the easiest when slapped onto your face at the worst possible moment ever.

Sevika noticed the way your gaze lingered a while too long on the marks on your stomach and breasts as you started slowly dressing for the day.

"What's up, hun?" She asked and looked your way with a tender gaze only reserved for you and nobody else... Except for Isha, of course.

You tried your best to smile anyway and brushed it off with a simple "Nothing."

"No, it's not nothing. I saw the way you looked at your body. It felt... Wrong." Sevika said and put down the book she was reading, taking her reading glasses off too, and settling both objects down on the coffee table.

She moved her boot adorned feet down from the table and walked upto you, muscular arm draping around you from behind like a blanket of warmth.

Her metal prosthetic clinked softly behind you, grounding her imposing presence. "Talk to me."

You sighed and tried to shake it off, "It's nothing, 'Vika, please, don't sweat it."

"Love." Sevika said in a warning tone, hand still gently caressing your baby bump making you smile at the sight. She was completely entranced by her unborn daughter already. "We agreed to be honest with each other." Sevika said, her voice like a soothing balm on your aching insecurities. "I tell you how many drinks I had and you tell me all the thoughts you have, honestly."

You chuckled at her comparison. She truly was a ray of sunshine behind her tough exterior.

You looked down at the floor for a bit before looking back up at her. "I just don't feel pretty. I have these stupid marks all over my thighs, ass and stomach. It's so—"

"So pretty." Sevika said and ran her finger over the stretch mark on your stomach making your breath hitch a little. "I love them. They're like thunderbolts." Sevika grinned like a satisfied child, hands still tracing your stretch marks before slowly coming up to cup your breasts. "And look they've grown too."

"Sevika..." You whisper and gasp a little when you feel her squeeze your swollen mounds making a little bit of breast milk seep out.

You giggled watching Sevika fawn over your plumper chest before she easily picked you up, and put you on the bed. "I can't have my wife feel bad for her own body, yknow, your body does wonders." Sevika knelt down, gently parting your legs to gain access to your sensitive pussy.

"Are you sure we should be having sex?" Your voice was quiet and vulnerable when you asked her but the way Sevika held you so gently as if you could break any moment was enough reassurance that she wouldn't be rough with you.

Sevika gave you a subtle nod with a little smile that followed, saying, "If anything hurts, tell me and I will stop." She gave your waist a small squeeze of reassurance.

"That's what you told me all those times before you didn't stop. You just kept it going." You said and smiled down at her, her chin pressed against the folds of your cunt which were pretty much already wet at the mere thought of having sex while you're pregnant.

"And do you say that didn't feel good?" Sevika narrowed her eyes although it was an exaggeration of her playful suspicion, she knew that you liked it because you were moaning her name right after and cumming around her cock quite instantly.

"I mean, no, no," you laughed a little, the corners of your eyes crinkling, "Not at all."

"Then let me make you feel good," Sevika leaned in and licked up on your pussy making you gasp and grab the sheets tightly. Her mouth worked diligently on your wet cunt, sucking up the wet mess you had become at the mere thought of being touched by her.

Sevika held your thighs open, her touch surprisingly gentle as she sucked your clit in her mouth, suckling hard on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"F-f-fuck," your mouth opened and closed, moaning feeling her tongue tease your cunt. Sevika pulled back and spat on your pussy before she resumed licking and sucking. She pushed her long tongue inside your cunt, stuffing her face into your cunt as if she didn't know oxygen.

"S-Sevika, it feels so good," you said, tears appearing in your eyes as you felt the waves of pleasure shoot up from your needy pussy.

Hot tears began to stream down your face as Sevika licked and sucked on your cunt, your body shuddered. "C-cumming..." You said, your fingers tangling in Sevika's hair and stuffing her face further onto your heat as you came on her face.

Sevika pulled away, face drenched in your liquids, "So much for not wanting sex," Sevika rubbed your baby bump, kissing at the stretch marks and whatever other marks you had on your body.

"Just stay with me now," you whispered, exhausted. Sevika smiled and sunk into the mattress beside you, spooning you, "Will do."

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jjscrybaby · 3 months ago

Note

just found your account and i love your writing! would you make an imagine where bff jj and bff reader are obsessed with eachother and the’re both confident and always flirts with each other and its so obvious the’re in love with each other. dont really have a plot in mind i just really love the trope and dynamic you know

bsf!jj maybank x fem!reader | hurt & comfort | (slight angst, don’t want to spoil it so no more warnings!!!)

thankyou angel!!! hope this is okay, i strayed a bit from the request but this came to mind :)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

The dynamic between you and JJ was confusing, not just for the two of you but for everyone that ever came across you. Your friends had gotten used to the flirting, the touching and the goo-goo eyes you’d give each other across the room. Your classmates didn’t understand what you were to each other, you’d say you were best friends but then you’d be sat in his lap with him kissing your neck for the majority of a kegger.

“Why don’t you just admit it?” You had the same conversation at least once a week. Sarah was adamant that you had feelings for the blonde, she also had a bet going with John B that you’d be the first to confess.

“Because that would be lying,” you replied with a smirk, you were teasing her and she knew it.

“No it wouldn’t!” Sarah exclaimed, watching as you snorted into your drink. She glared at you. You may be amused, but she’s far from it.

“Look, I know you love the idea of me and JJ getting married, having babies and being in love but it’s just not gonna happen,” you explained with a shrug.

She huffed, taking a sip from her glass of wine. You figured she’d be pouting for the next hour, so you were surprised when you saw a small smirk play on her lips. You raised an eyebrow at her, tilting your head to the side as you waited for her to say what she was thinking.

“What’s the look about, Cameron?” You asked after she’d been silent for too long.

“I was just thinking,” she said, now grinning from ear to ear as if she’d had an epiphany. “If you don’t like JJ, then you wouldn’t mind him going on a date. Right?”

“JJ doesn’t date,” you responded quickly. It wasn’t an excuse, really it wasn’t. JJ isn’t a commitment kind of guy, his longest relationship is with the milk in his fridge.

“Trust me, he’ll want to date this girl. She came to the shop the other day and he was pretty much drooling,” Sarah stated. It was an exaggeration, but you didn’t need to know that. Not if her plan was going to work.

“And you know her?” You questioned, brows furrowing. You took a long sip of your wine, the thought of JJ drooling over a girl made your stomach turn.

Sarah nodded her head. “We went to school together.”

“She’s a Kook?” You laughed, all anxiety leaving your body. “Yeah, okay, good luck with that Sare.”

“Are you saying you’re okay with it?” Sarah asked.

“It’s non of my business who or what JJ dates. I’m not his girlfriend,” you responded. You didn’t need to worry. He wouldn’t say yes, not to a date with a Kook; maybe not to a date with anyone.

“Great,” Sarah shrugged, smiling smugly at you.

JJ and John B didn’t come back in from the shop until after the sun had set, you assumed they’d closed up a couple hours ago and ended up smoking a joint together so they didn’t have to share with everyone.

You and Sarah were laid on the couch, watching a movie. John B walked in first, a goody grin on his face at the sight of his wife. “Hello, ladies.”

“Good shift?” Sarah asked, leaning up so he could press a peck to his lips.

For a split second you felt lonely, before JJ came bouncing into the room and jumped on top of you. You groaned, shoving at his waist. “Ouch, J!”

“Missed ya,” he grinned, pressing dramatic kisses all over your face. You could feel Sarah’s gaze on you, you had to fight the urge to turn around and punch her.

“JJ, I’ve got you a date for Saturday night,” Sarah stated. She’d texted the girl, Chloe, earlier. You’d pretended not to care when Chloe had responded and said yes.

“Huh?” You could feel him freeze above you, eyes narrowing at her.

“A date, never heard of one?” She teased. “It’s with the girl that came into the shop the other day, Chloe? I already asked her and she said yes so unless you can come up with a valid reason not to go then you’re going.”

A valid reason. There was a very big one right underneath him, but he couldn’t say that. He racked his brain, but nothing came to mind. “Uh, alright, I guess. But you can’t be mad at me if I never call her again.”

“I can and I will. But, I don’t think that’ll be an issue. You guys are quite similar, she loves surfing, smokes a shit ton of weed and she’s hot. What else could you want?” Sarah asked.

“So you think I’m hot?” JJ joked, making John B reach over and punch him in the bicep. He groaned, letting out a laugh. “Sorry, sorry. I guess she sounds alright. What d’you think?”

You looked up, he was staring right at you. His head was tilted. He was asking for your permission. That’s not what best friend’s are supposed to do. Best friend’s don’t ask for permission to date other people, and they definitely don’t feel physically sick just at the idea of it.

“Sounds fun,” you murmured, giving him a fake smile.

He nodded slowly, as if he didn’t fully believe you. “I guess I’m going on a date then.”

“Guess you are.”

———

Saturday night came around far too quickly for your liking. All week, ever since JJ had agreed to go on this date, it’s all you could think about. You’d laid awake staring at the ceiling wondering what your relationship would be like if he had a girlfriend. During your shift together on Wednesday, you watched as he texted back and forth with someone; you assumed Chloe. Was he really that excited about this date he had to text her?

He didn’t mention it, not until he came into your room and asked for your help on picking a shirt. You picked the uglier one, but he still managed to look perfect.

“How do I look?” He asked, giving you a smirk as he pulled the collar down.

“Like a new man,” you teased, but your tone wasn’t as energetic as usual. You felt like shit, you shouldn’t be praying on your best friend’s downfall, you should be happy for him. But you can’t bring yourself to find this good.

“Well, gotta look good to impress a Kook,” he shrugged.

If this date was with you, you wouldn’t care what he wore. He could dress in a bin-bag and you’d still find him gorgeous. Over the last week you’ve come to the horrible realisation that maybe Sarah’s right. Maybe you do have feelings for JJ.

“You alright?” He asked softly, sitting down on the bed next to you.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine,” you nodded, giving him a small smile.

“You sure?” He didn’t look convinced, his hand rubbing your thigh gently. “Y’look upset. You want me to stay home? We can watch a movie or somethin’.”

“What? No, JJ, I’m fine, don’t be silly,” you laughed him off.

“It’s not silly if you need me,” he argued, other hand moving to stroke your hair. “You’d tell me if there was something wrong, right?”

You nodded your head, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Go on, you’re gonna be late.”

“Will you text me if you need me?” He murmured, looking unsure. There was something going on in his head, but you weren’t sure you wanted to know what it was.

“Yeah, Jayj,” you reassured softly. “Have a good time, okay?”

“I will,” he smiled, kissing your temple. “See you later, sweetheart.”

You spent ten minutes moping in your bedroom before Sarah was storming in. “Are you going to admit it yet? Or are you going to sit in here all night crying?”

“I’m not crying,” you argued, glaring at her. It wasn’t her fault, not really, but you needed someone to be mad at and she was in the closest vicinity.

“You like him.” It wasn’t a question this time, it was a statement, and you didn’t deny it. “Get dressed, we’re gonna go get drunk.”

“What?” You sighed.

“You heard me. Put on something cute, put on a smile and get ready to get plastered. I’m sorry I set him up, and the way I’ll apologise is by getting you out of this funk,” Sarah ordered.

There was no use arguing with Sarah Cameron, you’d learnt that a long time ago. So, you forced yourself out of bed and put on a dress. John B didn’t say much when he drove the two of you to a sea-food restaurant on the pier, he just gave you a smile as you got out the Twinkie.

She lead you inside, it only took a few seconds for you to spot him. He was staring right at you, a gentle smile on his face. The most shocking part? There was no girl sat opposite him.

“What’s going on?” You asked, turning to look at Sarah.

“Have a good date,” she murmured, kissing your cheek before turning around and heading back out the door.

“Wha— Sarah!” You tried calling after her, you were sure you could hear her giggling.

JJ slowly stood up and walked towards you, stopping only a few inches away. He was grinning, you were utterly confused. “What the fuck is going on? Where’s Chloe?”

“Sarah never texted Chloe,” he said softly. “You think she’s a damn idiot? As if I’d ever go on a date with anyone but you.”

“I’m so confused right now,” you huffed. “You lied to me!”

There were people starting to stare at the two of you. JJ took your waist and lead you outside, giving the pair of you some privacy. “I wasn’t lying… At first. I thought she really did set me up, and I said yeah to be polite. I was gonna pretend to be sick or somethin’.”

“And then?”

“When you went to bed, she told me the real plan. I go on a ‘date’, she gets you here and we surprise you. I nearly blew it all off earlier, you looked upset and I never want to be the reason you’re upset,” JJ explained, letting out a sigh.

“What about all the texting? When we were on shift, you were constantly smiling at your phone,” you accused.

He smiled sheepishly, looking at the ground. “Sarah and John B were pretty excited about all this, they made a groupchat. My phones been blowing up all week.”

“What’s it called?” You murmured.

“Operation lovebirds,” he stated, making you giggle quietly.

“That’s stupid.”

“Yep.”

It was silent for a moment, him looking at you and you looking around as if someone was going to jump out with a camera and yell gotcha! You just had one more question, but it was probably the most important.

“Why are we on a date, JJ?” You asked quietly, finally making eye contact with him. “Why did you set all this up? Why do you have a groupchat?”

He gulped, letting out a deep breath. His arms wrapped around your waist, forehead leaning against yours. “Because I love you.” You were sort of expecting that, but your heart still fluttered in your chest. “And not as a best friend, I’ve been in love with you since you gave me your teddy bear ‘cause I told you I didn’t have any.”

Tears brimmed in your eyes, but a smile made its way onto your face. “I love you.”

“I know.” Tears ran down your face. The one thing JJ had never been sure of was that people cared about him, but with you he didn’t have to think twice. He wiped your tears, letting out a soft laugh. “Don’t gotta cry about it.”

“Shut up or I’m going home,” you warned, he chucked again.

He leant down, lips brushing against yours before he pulled you into him and stole the first kiss. You gasped against his mouth, but within seconds you were melting into his embrace and the smell of marijuana and his cologne.

“Most people kiss after the date,” you murmured against his lips, his arms squeezing you tightly.

“Yeah, well, most people also don’t take twelve years to admit how they feel.”

#jj maybank #bsf!jj #obx #jj mayback x reader #outer banks #jj maybank prompt #jj mayback imagine

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lascvitae · 1 month ago

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❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ BABY, PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME

♯┆after you give ning the silent treatment she tries everything to get your attention.

pairing. ningning x gn!reader genre. fluff warning(s). ningning one chance, clingy ning

word count: 1.1k

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ katty ᥫ᭡: hey yall…

masterlist.

you rummaged through the fridge, grumbling under your breath as you shoved the milk back onto the shelf with more force than necessary.

“what’re you looking for?” your girlfriend appeared in the doorway of the workroom, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

you crossed your arms, leaning against the kitchen counter, frown deepening as you met her eyes. “do you know what happened to the last slice of strawberry cheesecake?”

her body immediately tenses and she pushed her glasses up, eyes darting to the side.

“no.”

you rolled your eyes. “did it grow legs and walk away?”

ning’s shoulders lifted then dropped in exaggerated surprise. “maybe it did! i don’t know...” she answered, voice too quick and too high pitched.

“liar! you ate it!” you shot back, daring her to deny the accusation. “nuh-uh.”

you brushed past her and stumbled into the workroom. she followed with hurried footsteps. “please, baby, wait.” she pleaded, voice laced with a hint of panic. “i didn’t mean to! i didn’t know you wanted it —“

you saw her university laptop flipped open on the desk, coffee and an empty plate neighboring it.

it could’ve been just another normal day, but something wasn’t right. and it didn’t take long for your eyes to realize the details on the plate.

leftover crumbs and smudges of strawberry syrup.

at first you just stood there, air thick with silence. then you finally turned to her, face a mix of disbelief and irritation.“i apologize! i had no idea you wanted it!” she blurted with a soft voice. it was almost pleading, guilt clear in her eyes.

“you knew i was saving it though.” you couldn’t hide the exasperation in your tone,

“yeah, but… i didn’t mean to. i didn’t plan to.” she stammered.

but you didn’t want to hear it. you didn’t care for excuses. so you turned on your heel, ready to retreat back into the comfort of your shared bed.

she followed quickly, this time managing to reach you before you could crawl back under the covers.

“i’m serious. believe me.” she pouted, arms wrapping around your middle to pull you as close as she could.

your heart fluttered at her touch but you refused to let it show, practically dragging her to the bed with you.

“y/nnnn~” she whined, pulling you back into her embrace. her arms wrapping around you tightly, body warm against yours.

you stayed silent, determined to ignore her.

“baby.” she whined with a desperate voice.

ning’s arms tightened around you. you could feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, and even though you were currently annoyed, you couldn't help but soften a little at how close you two were.

“i didn’t mean to eat it.” she murmured into your neck, breath fanning your skin. “i just… i wanted it too! and it was just sitting there —”

you let her words hang in the air, a faint sigh escaping your lips as you stared at the wall straight ahead.

she stayed quiet for a moment, refusing to pull away. you felt her breathing deepen as if she were trying to figure out which way to convince you next. then, without warning, she placed gentle pecks on the skin of your neck.

“stop.” you grumbled, voice lacking the force that you intended it to.

but she didn’t stop. she didn’t want to. instead, ning brought her hands from your waist to your back, touch gentle yet insistent. her lips lingered against your neck for a moment longer before she pulled back slightly, touch soft against your skin.

“please baby?” she whispered. “stop ignoring me.” you continued to stay silent, struggling between frustration and affection. you weren’t that upset about it anymore but you liked the attention from her.

she had been working on her final project for the past few days and with her being the overachiever that she is, it was difficult to get moments like this as of late.

her arms wrapped around you again, pulling you closer as if she were afraid you’d break away from her. her hands softly caressed your back while she pouted at it.

“i didn’t think you cared about the cheesecake that much.” she murmured.

you scoffed playfully. “you should’ve asked.” you said quietly, tone warmer than before. there was still a tiny hint of sadness in it, though.

“i know, baby. i should’ve.” she buried her face in your neck, lips brushing against your skin again. the kisses were soft and full of apologies, repeatedly pecking against your skin. you had given in already.

“i forgive you.” you said, your voice quieter now. “but i’m still mad at you.”

she whined and you immediately felt bad.

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding. i’m not mad anymore.” you let out a soft laugh, your hands moving to cup her face, and trace her cheek with your thumb. it was your turn to pull her in closer, kissing her forehead gently.

her face lit up instantly, the happiness in her eyes making her look like a child in a candy store. “good. i hate it when you’re mad at me.” she continued to pout.

“next time you better ask before you steal my cheesecake.” you teased her, pressing your lips to her forehead once again.

ning’s smile grew and she kissed your cheek in return, lips lingering there a little longer than expected. “i will! i swear.”she chirped.

“you better.” you mumbled as your hands brushed softly throughout her hair, finally pulling her into your embrace.

her lips brushed against yours gently to ask for permission. you closed the small gap between the two of you, meeting her lips with a gentle kiss. it was slow and sweet, making both of your hearts thump in your chests. you felt her smile against your lips and you couldn’t resist doing the same.

once you pulled back you rested your forehead against hers. she watsed no time kissing you again, a little deeper this time. her lips moved more confidently now that you weren’t upset with her anymore. you gave into the softness of the moment.

“you still owe me a cheesecake though.”you said playfully, pulling away just to speak. “i mean like damn, that was a big slice.”

she pouted again before her fingers settled in your hair as she kissed you again, this time with a little more insistence. “i’ll get you a whole box! i promise!” her smile returned.

you hummed in disbelief, rolling your eyes playfully.

“the whole cheesecake factory even.”

you looked at her with a face that basically said ‘mmcht.’

“waiters and chefs included.”

you couldn’t help but laugh then. “yeah, we’ll see.”

perm taglist — @saysirhc @prologue-ae

#baby put your hands on me — nyz #ningning x reader #aespa ningning #aespa #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa imagines #ningning imagines #kpop gg x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #ning yizhuo x reader #ning yizhuo #gn reader #wlw #wlw post

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lilahlovesjjk · 2 months ago

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♥🇫🇴🇦🇲 🇭🇪🇦🇷🇹🇸♥

my first real post!

summary: Gojo’s been a regular at the café you work at for a while now—flirty, cocky, and always a little too sure of himself.

warnings: fluff, slight angst (but just like a little bit), tiny bit of cursing

The door jingles the same way every time—a little too loud, too cheerful for the otherwise sleepy hum of the café. It’s become your warning bell. Every day at 3:17 PM, without fail, he walks in. Gojo Satoru. Tall, white-haired, sunglasses, despite the overcast sky. He struts in like he owns the place, like the world owes him attention.

And then comes the performance. “One matcha latte, iced, half sweet, oat milk, extra foam—no lid.” You try to keep it professional as you ask, “And your name?”

“Oh,” he grins. “Today I’m Gojoe, with an ‘e.’ Extra hot. Like me.”

“Today you’re Go-home. Your drink’s ready.”

“…God, marry me.”

This has been the routine for weeks now. He comes in. He flirts. He calls you barista-chan, sweet bean, or something else equally embarrassing. He gives himself a new name every time, tips in 100s like he’s trying to prove something, and then lingers—sometimes in a corner booth with a book, sometimes at the bar to “supervise” your latte art. He always finds a reason to talk to you.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. That he’s like this with everyone. But then, during a lull, his eyes meet yours. Or he asks how your shift is going with that teasing voice that somehow softens at the end. And—yeah. It’s probably nothing. But he keeps showing up anyway.

The bell jingles again the next day. You don’t even need to look up to know it’s him. You can hear the smooth click of his shoes on the hardwood, feel the cocky energy sweep in before he even says a word. He’s here.

Except today? Something’s different.

His usual loud entrance is quieter today—he’s not trying to draw attention. No sunglasses. No exaggerated smirk. His hair is a little messier, like he’s been running his hands through it all morning. He’s staring at the menu above the counter, as if he doesn’t already have it memorized. You catch the way his fingers tap rhythmically against the glass of the pastry case, his eyes flicking toward you before darting back to the choices.

You raise an eyebrow, grabbing a clean cup. Whatever ridiculous order he throws at you, you’re ready.

He steps up to the counter and leans in a little closer than usual. “Something different today,” he says, his voice a little softer than usual.

“Something different?” You raise an eyebrow, taking in the subtle shift in his tone. “What’s the game today, Gojo?”

He pauses, the tiniest smirk at the corner of his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “How about… a cappuccino? Nothing fancy.”

You blink, surprised. A cappuccino? He’s never ordered anything so simple. There’s always a dozen modifications, a mess of modifications he claims to have “perfected.” A cappuccino? It’s almost like he’s trying to blend in.

Before you can comment, he leans forward, lowering his voice just enough so only you can hear. “I wanted to ask if… you’re free after your shift.”

You freeze, fingers still wrapped around the cup. Your heart skips, and the noise of the café fades into the background as you focus on the warmth of his gaze. Gojo tilts his head slightly, that glint in his eye—half challenge, half something else. Something softer.

“I’m not saying I’m desperate for company, but I could use some. Maybe a walk in the park after this?” he adds casually, but there’s a hesitation in his tone.

You blink, caught between disbelief and curiosity, trying to steady your voice. “You? Want to hang out after my shift? Are you sure you’re not, I don’t know, busy being perfect or something?”

He laughs, genuinely, the sound making his eyes light up. “Maybe I’m tired of being perfect,” he says, leaning back, the grin on his face lingering. “Maybe I’m tired of always being the guy who’s too busy to have a normal conversation with you.”

Your heart thuds in your chest at the sudden change in his energy. But then, the smirk returns, all cocky charm back in place. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? I promise, I won’t bite—unless you ask nicely.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide the warmth spreading across your cheeks. “Fine, whatever. You’re lucky I’m free.”

His grin widens, clearly pleased with himself. “Perfect. See you then. I’ll be waiting.” With that, he saunters off, wallet in hand, paying without a second thought.

After your shift ends, you clean the counter, hands moving almost mechanically. Gojo’s not the type to be on time, so you try not to let the 15 minutes that roll by without him showing up get to you. But then, the door jingles again.

Your heart skips before you even look up. And there he is. Gojo, standing in the entryway, hair messier than usual, clothes slightly soaked, and holding a massive umbrella. He looks at you like he’s been waiting for this moment for hours.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. It’s just the rain tapping on the windows, and the tension between the two of you filling the space.

“You—” You almost laugh at yourself. “You were standing out there in the rain this whole time?”

Gojo doesn’t answer immediately, just steps inside and closes the door behind him, his usual playful expression replaced with something more sincere. His voice is softer than usual when he finally speaks. “Maybe I was waiting for you,” he says, his eyes locked on yours. “Wasn’t sure if you’d keep me waiting.”

You roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at your lips. “You really are something, aren’t you?”

“Am I?” His grin widens. “Ready to go?”

You grab your jacket, but before you can speak, he’s already holding the umbrella over both of you. “We can walk,” he says, his voice quieter now. “But I don’t want you getting soaked. I’ll even be a gentleman and keep you dry.”

You want to say something snarky, but the way he’s looking at you stops you. He seems… different. Less cocky. More sincere. You step outside, the umbrella tilting slightly as Gojo keeps it firmly above both of you. His shoulder brushes yours, but he doesn’t pull away. He just stays close.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask quietly, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

Gojo glances at you, the grin still there, but softer now. “Why not?” He shrugs nonchalantly. “We’re not that far apart, are we? And, hey, you’re the one who agreed to hang out with me.”

You both walk in silence for a while. The rain falls steadily around you, and the city feels quieter somehow. The tension between you fades, and for once, everything feels… simple.

Eventually, Gojo stops and turns to face you, his hand still holding the umbrella above both your heads. His voice is low, and there’s an edge to it now. “So,” he says, his gaze steady on yours. “You think I’m just some guy who flirts with everyone?”

You blink. “I mean… that is your thing, isn’t it?”

Gojo’s lips curl into a smile, but it’s gentler than usual. “Maybe it was. But you’re different.”

You swallow, the weight of his words hitting you. “Different how?”

He pauses, and for a moment, you think he might dodge the question. But he doesn’t. His eyes stay locked on yours, and when he speaks again, there’s no pretense. Just honesty. “Maybe I’m tired of playing the game. Maybe I just like how you’re not impressed by me.”

Your heart races as the words settle between you. He’s not flirting now, not pushing any boundaries. For the first time, he’s being real. “Gojo…”

But he’s already turning, looking back down the street, his hand still holding the umbrella. He doesn’t say anything else. Just lets the silence stretch between you, the quiet hum of the rain enveloping you both.

You glance at him, but he’s not looking at you anymore. His eyes are straight ahead, his steps steady and confident, but there’s something different in the way he moves. His shoulders, usually tense with arrogance, are relaxed now. The cocky swagger he’s known for has been replaced by a quieter presence. For the first time, Gojo isn’t trying to be the center of attention—he’s just here, beside you, in the middle of the rain.

It catches you off guard, and for a brief moment, you wonder if this is what he meant by “different.” Maybe this is the side of him he’s been hiding—behind the playful jokes, the flirty smiles. The part of him he’s been waiting for you to notice.

You have to say something. You can’t just let this moment pass.

“Gojo…” The name feels foreign on your tongue now, softer, less of a tease and more of an unspoken admission. His head turns just slightly toward you, his lips curling into that familiar half-smile, but there’s something else in his gaze—something expectant.

“You gonna finish that thought?” he asks, his voice playfully inviting, but there’s a hint of seriousness beneath the usual teasing.

You hesitate for a moment, but then the words slip out before you can stop them. “I don’t think you’re just the guy who flirts with everyone. I think…”

He raises an eyebrow, the playful grin tugging at his lips. “You think what?”

For a moment, you feel the weight of your words in your chest. But this time, you push through it. “I think you hide behind all that. That ego of yours. I think there’s more to you than just the jokes and the flirting.”

Gojo stops in his tracks, his expression softening as he pulls the umbrella closer to shield both of you from the hardest rain. The moment stretches between you two, heavy with the things you’ve never said, and the silence that follows seems to speak louder than anything you could’ve imagined.

“You really think that?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost raspy. His gaze on you is intense, like he’s waiting for you to say more, for the truth to spill from your lips.

You hold his stare, the space between you filled with unspoken words, all the emotions you’ve buried for so long coming to the surface. It’s almost too much, the weight of it all pressing in on you, but you can’t look away.

Then, without warning, Gojo takes a step closer. He’s close enough that you can feel his warmth, close enough that the world around you seems to shrink. His gaze flickers down to your lips, his breath a little heavier now, and for the first time, there’s no teasing edge in his eyes.

“God, you’re making this way too easy,” he mutters, his voice rougher than usual, almost like he’s fighting something back. And then, just like that, he leans in.

Your breath hitches as his lips brush against yours, tentative at first—a soft press, as if testing the waters. But it doesn’t stay that way for long. He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks, his voice softer now, a little unsure.

You can’t answer with words. So, instead, you lean in again, this time pulling him closer. His lips meet yours with more urgency, the kiss deepening as if it’s been building for weeks, all the flirtation, the teasing, and the quiet moments now flooding into this one.

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you even closer, and the rain continues to fall harder, but you don’t even notice. All you feel is the heat of his lips, the pressure of his body against yours, and the sound of the storm around you, distant and almost surreal.

When he finally pulls away, both of you panting lightly, he smiles at you—a real smile, not the usual cocky grin. It’s softer, warmer, something you’ve never seen from him before.

“I didn’t know you had it in you,” he teases, but his voice is softer than usual, and you can tell it’s genuine.

“You didn’t make it easy,” you retort breathlessly, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “You’re the one who kept me waiting.”

Gojo chuckles, pulling you a little closer under the umbrella as the rain continues to pour. “Fair enough,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing against yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“So, are we still walking, or…?”

You smile up at him, something light and happy stirring in your chest, something unexpected but right. “Yeah,” you say, the words feeling easy now. “Let’s keep walking.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk

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