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ak319 · 20 days ago

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Yan Regent Consort x fem reader

Headcanon

(Warnings: This story contains matriarchal themes, fem dom such as mpreg, fem dominated world, role reversal, and BXG pairing! Yes, it's a boy x girl, so don't interact if you are not comfortable!!)

Xu Junlai was a boy who held different roles in the eyes of others, son to some, friend to some, an object of admiration or envy to others. He was born into a family of five sons and two daughters. His mother, Xu Huang, served as a minister in the court, while his father, Xu... well, he wasn’t married into the Xu family, he was merely a concubine of Junlai’s mother. Because of this, Junlai never received familial love, not from his step-siblings and not even from his mother, who was always either too busy or uninterested in family matters. Her absence from his life gave his brothers free rein to treat him as they pleased.

His oldest sibling was his sister, Xu Tai, whom everyone feared. She didn’t particularly dote on him, but she maintained order in the household whenever she returned from her training and service in the army. Xu Tai had high ambitions for the country, aspiring one day to become a commander or much better a General. His other sister, Xu Ai, was studying to be a scholar; she was a year older than Junlai, who himself was the second youngest in the family.

Junlai had long learned that if he didn’t stand up for himself and speak for himself, he would live a life of misery and eventually die alone, perhaps with no one to mourn his passing. So, he did speak for himself when necessary. A hard life had forced him into this role. It wasn’t as if anyone liked him before, or that he had earned any respect, so what was there to lose?

He had passions that he quietly pursued, calligraphy, reading books, sneakily borrowing them from Tai’s library at the estate and, most importantly, dancing. Yet he was made fun of, and ridiculed for his interests.

“Your father was a prostitute, and you doing this seems to scream that you are on the same path. You disgrace,” his stepfather, Xu Fen, sneered. But his words never truly hurt Junlai.

“But your sons are learning such skills too. Are they on the same path?”

“THEY ARE NOT! They are doing that so that when the time arises, they will be presented to the court for the new Empress and her harem. That is where their skills will shine; being a Xu, that is inevitable. You, however…”

“Mother may not have married my father, but she openly acknowledged that I have been granted the name Xu.”

“So? What are you--oh--so you want to enter the court? That might be the funniest thing I’ve heard this week. Part of the reason your presence here is sometimes bearable. Have you seen yourself? There is nothing graceful about you, such venomous features, that blank face, eyes like a devil’s. You are someone any woman would avoid, not bed.” Fen’s cackles echoed in the distance as Junlai stood in the garden, his usual blank expression firmly in place.

The court? But he didn’t desire any of that. That was a life of hell. As if my life is better now... Harem or no harem, at least he could demonstrate his skills and take a jab at his useless brothers. Perhaps that was the most thrilling part of it all. There was absolutely no chance that an Empress or even the Emperor Dowager would allow the son of a prostitute to enter the harem.

So, Junlai practised night after night, in the empty hall that felt both sacred and suffocating. The flickering candles cast shadows that danced like ghosts on the walls, whispering secrets of long-forgotten elegance. The sound of anklets chimed like distant bells, while the rustle of silken fabric filled the air, wrapping around him like a lover’s embrace. In the dim light, his body became a fluid extension of art, each movement imbued with a haunting beauty that could draw anyone into his graceful orbit. And perhaps, just perhaps, the voice that emerged from his lips was powerful enough to ensnare even the coldest of hearts.

But one fateful night, when he miraculously received permission from his mother to join the ceremony, everything changed. Three of his brothers discovered him lost in his usual routine, an ethereal vision in the half-light. As always, he expected their laughter, their scorn, but no... that night, the hall, once a sanctuary, transformed into a chamber of horrors.

Instead of melodies, the air was filled with his screams as they pinned him down, the laughter of his brothers echoing like a dark symphony. They poured scalding water over his feet, the pain searing through him, brutal and unrelenting--just a week before the ceremony.

═════ ◈ ═════

The day of the ceremony arrived, and you, the new Empress, had only been on the throne for a year after successfully defeating your sisters for the throne. However you were overwhelmed by the throng of men entering your court, you sat in silence, your mind already planning the next day's work while subtly noting the movements and behaviours of your court members.

The musical festivities began, likely your father's favorite part, as it allowed him to exert his influence over the affairs of the men. You had little energy to deal with such trivialities, and the classification of men in this way unsettled you. Your mother was deeply involved in it all, and you loathed the thought of it.

"Those are the sons of the Xu family, good-looking, aren't they?" your father remarked, his voice dripping with expectation. Your head snapped to his direction, and for a fleeting moment, you glanced at the display before you.

“Um, yes,” you replied, your tone devoid of enthusiasm.

Your father internally rolled his eyes at your lacklustre response. You might have bedded a few men and have a son with one of the concubines, but it was clear you weren’t taking any of them seriously. 'This idiot daughter of mine, clearly not worried about not having an heir still. By now your mother would have had three-'

"They came for you, so at least enjoy it a bit. If you prefer any changes, the music, the dance-"

"It's fine, Father. It's fine."

You granted your approval to Xu Huang in the end, an honest minister in your eyes, someone even your mother trusted. Her daughter, Tai, was a formidable warrior, perhaps the first to impress you with her skills.

As dinner commenced, no one anticipated the doors to swing open once more. A lone figure stepped into the hall, drawing everyone's attention, including yours. He was slender, his long hair tousled—surprisingly beautiful even in such disarray. Those eyes of his, empty yet hauntingly deep, bore into yours with an intensity that both intrigued and unsettled you.

His walk was seductive yet exuded an aura of defeat and determination. Silence enveloped the hall, a palpable tension as he stood in the centre, commanding attention. That’s when you noticed his feet, bare and crimson. You were certain that if you looked closer, you would see the dark stains of blood marring his skin.

It felt as though the entire court was holding its breath, waiting for you to question him. Just then, you caught the whisper of Xu Huang, “Son…” from her seat a few feet away.

Her son?

"Are you... Xu’s son?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued.

He nodded.

“Um--your Majesty, he was sick, so he couldn't perform earlier, although his name was registered on the list by me…” Xu Huang explained, her voice steady yet tinged with concern. You responded with a curt nod, your mind racing.

“If you are sick, then you shouldn’t be here,” you asserted, a protective instinct rising within you. You were certain the sickness plagued his feet. There was no way you would allow him to dance under such conditions.

“I want to dance,” he replied, his voice challenging and unwavering.

The spark in his tone caught you off guard. What an odd boy...

“Very well. Then do. I would like to see you dance,” you commanded, a blend of intrigue fluttering in your chest

“Your Majes-” Xu Huang began, but your glare silenced her immediately.

“Begin.”

As the sounds of the pipa and hulusi filled the hall, an almost electric hush fell over the audience. Everyone shifted their attention from their meals to the boy dancing, his presence so captivating that even your father, Wang Hua, sat bewildered. A simmering anger brewed within him as he grappled with his own intrigue. Are you seriously interested in him?

Though Hua possessed some knowledge about the boy, witnessing the fluidity and artistry of his dance made those thoughts melt away. Junlai moved as if in a trance, each motion a hauntingly beautiful expression that stirred something deep within you. The performance was mesmerizing, drawing you into a world that felt both ethereal and painfully real.

The only glimmer of envy and fury came from Junlai’s own brother and step-father, their faces twisted in disdain as they seethed at the spectacle before them. Even the blood that dripped from Junlai’s feet onto the glass-like floor seemed to only heighten their ire. They couldn’t maintain your gaze for even a moment, while Junlai seemed to command the room effortlessly, as if reigning over it with merely a flick of his wrist.

As the final echoes of Junlai’s performance faded, your ears, now deprived of the boy’s beautiful voice, were met once again with a profound silence that enveloped the hall.

Junlai stood with his gaze cast down, a picture of humility, while you rose from the podium, taking slow, deliberate steps toward him. A ripple of anticipation swept through the crowd, their eyes wide with curiosity about what would unfold next. To your surprise, the boy barely flinched as you stood before him, towering over his slight frame.

“Name?” you inquired, your voice steady.

“Junlai,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And who did this to you...?” You leaned closer, searching his eyes for the truth.

His neutral gaze met yours, and you sensed a flicker of vulnerability beneath his composed exterior.

“People... whom I would rather not talk about on such a glorious day... a day for you, my Majesty.” He lowered himself in a respectful bow, his head tilting downward, yet his posture remained defiantly graceful.

“Is that so...?” you mused, glancing at Naun, your attendant, who stood discreetly behind a pillar to your left. She nodded subtly, understanding the unspoken command in your gaze.

This boy not only is now part of your harem but...your choice for the night.

You were resolute, you would not entertain the other sons of the Xu family. What need had you for them? Junlai’s dance eclipsed all of theirs combined, a testament to his raw talent and spirit. You were not greedy, you simply sought the best. And he was not only the best but also intriguingly peculiar, a captivating boy you were eager to indulge in and explore further.

As you crawled on top of him, Junlai had been cleaned and prepared for your gaze, yet a small part of you missed his disheveled appearance, the wild, untamed beauty that spoke of his struggles. You soothed yourself with the reminder that he would soon return to that captivating state.

“When I asked you about the culprits, you didn’t name them. You don’t want me to punish them?” you murmured, your fingers brushing gently against his cheek, relishing the softness of his skin as he leaned into your rough hand.

“But you already have... by choosing me,” he replied, a hint of defiance in his voice. You couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound deep and rich. “You are... something, you know. I have never encountered a boy like you... but I always wanted to.”

“I never wanted this... to be in the bed of an empress, in her harem, but here I am…” His words hung in the air, laced with a surprising confidence. Something about you made him bold enough to voice such thoughts. You didn’t seem as cold and cruel as the whispers suggested, those comparisons to your mother fading in the warmth of his gaze.

Your deep chuckle reverberated against his neck, sending shivers coursing through his body. “Oh, how lucky I am then. More fortunate than any empress, for having caught you.” You pulled away slightly to meet his eyes, searching for the flicker of fear, but finding only intrigue. “Being in a harem means being mine, and I take care of what I own.”

“Do you fear me, Junlai?” you asked, your voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. “You should...."

His heart raced at the challenge in your tone. “I don’t fear you, your Majesty. I only fear what I might become under your rule,” he replied, daring to meet your intense gaze.

“Ah, but isn’t that the thrill of it all?” You leaned in closer, your lips brushing tantalizingly against his ear as you spoke. A gasp left his plump lips as you nibbled on it.

Junlai’s breath quickened as your gaze pierced into him, as if you were seeing not just the boy he was but the depths of his soul. The air thickened with an intoxicating blend of fear and desire. He could feel the heat radiating from your body, enveloping him in a cocoon of both safety and peril.

Your fingers danced down his arm, tracing delicate patterns that ignited his skin, setting his nerves alight. Junlai's breath hitched as he felt the heat of your body press against him, a heady mix of power and vulnerability.

“Do you see how beautifully broken you are?” you continued, your voice low and mesmerizing.

Junlai felt the walls around his heart tremble, caught in the magnetic pull of your words. “What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the challenge now tinged with uncertainty.

“Everything.” Your lips curled into a wicked smile, a promise of the chaos to come. “I want your loyalty, your obedience, and most importantly, your heart. I will not only keep you in my harem, I will make you my most cherished treasure.”

As you leaned closer again, your lips tantalizingly brushing against his, he could feel the weight of your intentions, his robe being done deftly by your rough fingers. “Now, are you ready to dance for me?” you asked, your eyes glinting with mischief and hunger."

Junlai nodded, a flicker of excitement igniting within him. At that moment, he was no longer just a boy marked by pain, he was a dancer, ready to twirl and leap into the unknown, to be claimed by you.

═════ ◈ ═════

Junlai sat in the veranda, gazing out at the distant mountains with a forlorn expression, his slender fingers tapping absently on the polished wooden rail. Though the quarters designated for the favored concubine were lavish, adorned with silks and priceless porcelain, the space felt hollow without you. If only he could give you a daughter, the coveted title of consort would be his. The thought flitted through his mind like an unreachable dream. And yet, as the days stretched into months, it was your absence that gnawed at him, leaving him restless and aching.

God, when would you return from the campaign? Two months had passed, each day heavier than the last. He endured the whispers, and the scorn from the other concubines who mocked him for his damaged feet, but he bore it all without flinching. He knew you valued him for his skill, his grace, the things that went beyond mere perfection. You had appointed the empire's finest healers to tend to him, a silent reassurance that he still held a place in your heart.

Even the Emperor Dowager, shrewd and discerning, seemed to favour him, perhaps because he respected his daughter's choices or was mesmerized by his art. Either way, his endorsement granted him a measure of safety within the harem’s hostile world. And yet, safety was far from his mind. He spent sleepless nights worrying about you, imagining the dangers you might face, each possible harm a dagger in his chest. His own safety meant nothing if you were not there, by his side, safe and triumphant. He danced in the empty hall , every night, all night even. His gaze at the marble wall at the end, imagining you sitting in your throne watching his performance. Every word, every step a testimony for your longing. If anyone else saw him at night , they would be scared for their life.

A boy dancing as if he was possessed.

What had he become? Another lovesick boy, a fool just like his father, infatuated, aching, lost to his devotion. He had once vowed never to become so vulnerable, and yet here he was, the intensity of his love binding him more than duty or obligation ever could. He used to revel in this power, at first motivated by pride, even defiance, to show his brothers that he had won something they could never touch. But now, with every beat of his heart, every drop of his blood, he was wholly, helplessly, irrevocably yours.

Although not long ago, one significant shift rippled through the palace, Xu Tai, the skilled warrior whose loyalty you trusted, was now appointed as General. Junlai took comfort in this news. His sister's allegiance was unwavering, and her impressive abilities spoke for themselves. You chose her for her skill and integrity, qualities Junlai respected, and even admired from afar. He knew that with Tai at the helm, your interests, and your life, were in capable hands.

He hadn’t anticipated finding peace in such a development, yet knowing Tai held this position gave him a strange sense of relief. However when he just received a letter from Tai herself, that sense of relief seemed to diminish.

You had been poisoned by an arrow at the battlefield. Thankfully the physician present did their best to take it out but it was unknown if you would come back alive. The news was also sent to the Emperor and eventually spread over the harem and then the country.

The news struck the palace like a tempest. Word spread first as whispers in dimly lit corridors, then as gasps behind silken fans, until eventually, the rumours became cries of despair from every corner of the empire. The Empress has been poisoned, they said, her life teetering on the edge. The harem held its breath, the concubines offering quiet prayers. Yet amidst them all, Junlai felt as though his entire world had shattered.

Days passed in agonizing limbo, and Junlai clung to any scrap of information he could gather. The air in his chambers grew thick with dread, the whispers of the other concubines like needles against his skin. Would she return? Could she survive this? He tried to still his racing heart, to banish the wretched possibilities that plagued him day and night, but his mind clung stubbornly to images of your pale face, the way you looked as he’d last seen you, strong, assured, untouchable.

But now, you were mortal. Wounded. Vulnerable.

He’d never felt so powerless. Each night he would sit in the garden, his injured feet barely feeling the cold stone beneath them as he gazed at the stars, praying fervently for your safety. Let her come back to me, he whispered into the darkness. Take my health, my strength, take anything you want, but let her live.

The news of the looming threat reached the palace in the dead of night, casting a shadow over an already grief-stricken palace. The Chief Minister summoned her closest advisors including Xu Huang, the walls of the council chamber echoing with grave voices as they strategized. The Wei Dynasty had betrayed them, their forces striking not only on the battlefield but now threatening the heart of the empire, taking advantage of your absence. This insidious plot was spearheaded by the rebel leader Guo Wang, a lecherous woman of ruthless ambition and bloodthirsty intent. Her name alone sent ripples of fear through the court, her reputation for savagery preceding her.

The capital was left vulnerable in a way it hadn’t been for years. With Tai, your most loyal and capable General, at your side on the battlefield, and your position as Empress left temporarily vacant, the capital was guarded only by lesser warriors and the remaining commanders, a force barely sufficient for an ambush of this scale.

Junlai’s despair deepened. He had kept his composure in the wake of your injury, holding fast to the hope that you would return to him. But now the looming threat to the capital turned that sorrow into fear and fury. He knew what would come if Guo Wang breached the palace walls, the carnage that woman would wreak upon all in her path. The court, the innocents of the capital, and, he shuddered, the vulnerable harem.

He understood now what his sister had never fully articulated, the key to victory was not in repeating the old ways, but in disrupting the enemy's expectations. And Guo Wang’s forces? They would be expecting the standard defences. They would expect the palace to hide behind walls, women in armour standing guard at every gate. That was their mistake. Junlai knew better. But being a man and more so a mere consort was something that Junlai couldn't change. Nobody would listen to him. Two weeks left before the Guo reaches them even if Tai had sent for backup to the capital, it would have taken them a bit longer to get here.

No, he would not let this slide. The audacity to kill you , trying to take you AWAY FROM HIM!?. He will fucking lay corpses upon corpses of these disgusting pieces of filth. He will BURN EVERYTHING TO THE GROUND!

"I will not rest until I see you fall, Guo Wang..."

═════ ◈ ═════

"Mother, please. Trust me. You have to listen-"

"Your only job is to stay here, in the harem, and bear her children! Leave the military and court decisions to the court and the Empress."

Xu Huang froze, his chest tightening at the cold dismissal. His mother, ever so pragmatic, always intent on keeping him within the narrow boundaries of what was deemed acceptable for someone of his position. But tonight, he couldn’t bear it anymore. The years of suffocating silence, the weight of expectations that had been placed on him, all of it came crashing down in a wave of defiance.

"BUT I AM DOING THIS FOR THE EMPRESS!" His voice rang out, sharp and unforgiving. Xu Huang recoiled as if struck, the shock of his outburst still fresh in the air. But his fury only seemed to fuel him further. "Her Majesty’s court, her harem... I will not let some barbarian come in and tear it all apart. And don’t forget it, Mother!" He took a step forward, his voice thick with venom, his eyes burning with a passion he hadn’t allowed himself to show before. The tears were a mask, barely held together by his pride.

"I WILL protect her, and I WILL protect this dynasty."

He let his words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of their implications. He stood taller now, a dangerous glint in his eye, as he moved closer, letting the venomous truth seep into every syllable. "As for bearing children, oh sure, I will. But I won’t do it for you. I’ll do it for ME. For MY future. I’ll be elevated, not you. You will always remain a slave to the system, while I may one day be a part of the Wang dynasty. And you know what that could mean." His voice dropped to a low, almost mocking tone. "How do you think Tai became the General? If I can place someone on the board, I can just as easily toss them out."

There was a flicker of uncertainty in Xu Huang’s eyes at the mention of Tai, but it was quickly masked. He knew the truth, he had no such influence, but the bluff was enough. It was enough to make his mother tremble. The stoic, unflinching woman who had held him back his entire life now looked unsure, her hands gripping the edge of the table as if seeking something to steady herself.

"What are you proposing?" Her voice, cold as ever, betrayed the slight quiver in her tone. She had heard his words, but was she truly willing to listen?

Junlai smirked, the edge of triumph curling at the corners of his lips. "Now, we are talking."

═════ ◈ ═════

Junlai had always been more than just a skilled dancer; his mind was a sharp, calculating instrument that never ceased its relentless pursuit of efficiency and innovation. While the others focused on traditional warfare, the old strategies, sieging, ambushing, and brute force, Junlai saw only limitations. What he needed was an advantage that would catch their enemies off guard, something that no one had considered. The answer, as it often was, lay in nature.

Birds.

The idea came to him one evening while he watched the flock of crows circling above the harem. Their wings cutting through the air with precision, their effortless movement, a pattern of chaos within perfect order. It wasn't just the birds that caught his attention, but the fact that they held the power to burn.

In the markets, there had been whispers of incendiary techniques used by distant lands, fire-starting mechanisms using birds trained to carry torches. The court dismissed this concept as superstition, yet to Junlai, it was a brilliant, unrecognised weapon.

Junlai would need to launch the birds at night when the enemy's defences were at their weakest. The element of surprise would be vital, he knew that as soon as the birds were released, they would need to fly directly to their targets, avoiding the natural predators and the dangers of interception. So he had the women train them, following his instructions.

He took advantage of the dark sky, the birds’ natural night-flying abilities, to send them directly into the heart of Guo Wang’s camp. The wind, as if in cooperation with his plan, would be at their backs, ensuring that the fires would spread faster.

The moment the birds were released, the chaos began.

As the trained crows took flight, their wings slicing through the air like silent messengers of destruction, the fire lit up, first softly, then raging. Guo Wang's forces had no warning, no time to react. They watched in horror as the embers from above ignited their tents, their supplies, and worst of all, their weapons.

The women who had been enlisted as fighters, strong in their defiance but unprepared for such an assault, panicked as the fire spread, consuming their weapons and armour. Their leaders scrambled, but the flames had already done the work. The camp was ablaze, confusion and terror rippling through the ranks. The birds had burned their half camp, crippled their supply chain, and taken away the one thing they held most precious, control.

Thus, it made it easier for the soldiers to attack Guo's forces and easily win. Junlai watched with pride as he saw Guo's head impaled and being paraded around inside the castle's walls. A perfect homecoming gift for you. A gift to prove that he was not just a man in your harem, but someone who would do anything to ensure your reign remained unchallenged. Which made him again fall into a pit of worry for your return.

"Her Majesty has returned!" one of the attendants announced, her voice echoing down the hall.

Junlai stood in the corridor of the harem, his heart pounding in his chest. He had not realized how much he had missed you until the news arrived, that you were finally returning from the battlefield, victorious, but at a terrible cost. The victory meant nothing if it came at the cost of your well-being.

He watched from the shadows with along with other concubines as you entered, your face a bit pale but overall with no less than a sturdy and imperial aura. Your steps echoed in the hall as you greeted your father, your son and for a fleeting moment, met his gaze.

His mind was torn between wanting to rush to you and knowing that you would hate such an open display. So, he waited, watching, every fibre of his being aching to be near you.

And you called him finally, after two painful days.

"I... Your Majesty," Junlai's voice cracked slightly, betraying his calm facade. He couldn't hide the flood of emotions that coursed through him, the concern, the longing, the worry. He took another step closer, his voice low, "You came back... but how long will it take until you're truly well again?"

You always held yourself in such high regard, and the idea of being seen as anything less than the Empress was a bitter pill to swallow.

"I am better," you said, your tone firm, but Junlai could see the exhaustion etched into your features. "The battle was won, and my soldiers did well. That's enough for me."

Junlai stood in front of you now, so close that he could reach out and touch you if he dared. His gaze softened even further, and for a moment, the two of you simply stood there, him staring into your eyes, his heart heavy with the thoughts he didn’t dare speak aloud. Then he was finally graced with your embrace causing him to breakdown.

"Whatever it takes. Just... don’t push yourself too hard. You need rest." He whispered getting his act together.

You gestured for him to sat beside you on the bed. "I heard from Father...about what you did." He gulped, his form of being just...a boy in love under your gaze.

"I... I just... couldn't-- I had to! I did it all in fear of what might... happen..." You raised his chin.

"You didn't do it for love, then?"

"Of course I did! I did it for you only!" He grasped your hand against his cheek, his eyes filling with tears, his voice breaking at every word. "You... have no idea... what... torture it was for me to live after knowing that happened to you... my Queen. It was worse than death itself."

A hint of a smile graced your lips. "I am proud of you. I am... proud of my choice too..." You gazed lovingly at his face and wiped his tears, pulling his frail body to your chest. "Tai told me you... always had an interest in warfare... sneaked in to read her books."

His heart stopped. His sister... knew? All this time... she did? Yet she...

"Um... I--- yes." His whole body shivered when your deep chuckle traveled to every cell in his body.

"I have made a... decision."

His hands fisted your tunic in anticipation. "You will be the Regent consort here when I am away. You will manage the harem, manage the safety of the capital, it's people. Charities and all."

Junlai’s heart skipped a beat. His initial instinct was to deny, to say that it was nothing, that he just did his duty and wanted nothing more than to be a mere slave to your love. But the way you spoke to him with a glint of respect, of something more than just duty, it made him pause.

You saw him. Truly saw him.

He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the trembling in his hands, the heat in his chest. Regent consort. The title echoed in his mind like a promise, like a dream he had never dared to imagine. No man had ever had it...it didn't even exist until now. He would be the first man in history to have that. He will be known by every generation to come..

"But--but I... I don't deserve it," he stammered, the weight of your approval sinking into him. "I am... only a concubine, someone who had no right to such a role. You shouldn't place such responsibility on me."

You leaned closer, your fingers brushing against his cheek in a tender gesture, lifting his gaze with a gentle but firm pressure. "You don’t need to deserve it, Junlai," you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of your conviction. "You have already proven your loyalty, your cunning, and your heart."

You emphasized with a small but significant shift in tone, "You are my mind in the harem. You will ensure that my absence does not shake the foundations of this dynasty. You will stand guard over the people, the capital... everything I’ve worked for."

Junlai’s hands clenched tighter around your tunic as he processed the weight of your words. The enormity of the role, the responsibility, it was almost too much. But the way you spoke, the way you believed in him, gave him a strength he didn’t know he had.

"Are you afraid?" you asked, your voice soft but direct, your eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made his knees weak.

He paused, feeling a swirl of emotions churn in his chest. Fear. Desire. Ambition. Hope. They all mixed together until he couldn’t tell where one feeling ended and another began. But he was honest with you, always. "Yes," he said simply. "I am afraid. But if it means standing by your side... I will do whatever it takes."

You smiled at him, a slow, dangerous smile that made his breath catch in his throat. "Good," you said, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a low murmur and pulled him in for a gentle kiss.

He had never imagined that the harem would become more than just a gilded cage. He had never imagined that he would be the one trusted to hold the reins when you were away. But now, it felt like everything was changing.

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, any hesitation. But there was none. Only a quiet confidence that he knew, deep down, was meant for him.

"I won’t let you down," he whispered, his voice steady with determination, even as the weight of his new role settled over him like a mantle. "I will protect everything you’ve built, Empress. And I will make sure that no one dares challenge your rule."

You let out a satisfied sigh, your fingers trailing down the length of his arm as you leaned back, taking in the sight of him, your trusted consort, your mind in the harem.

His eyes softened, and for the first time since the battle, since everything had changed, he felt a flicker of peace settle in his chest. There was no going back now. But for the first time, he didn’t want to. He had you. And that was all that mattered.

Junlai leaned into you then, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath steadying as he let himself savor the moment, the moment where everything shifted, where he was no longer just a boy in your harem but the one who would protect everything you held dear.

Though, he mustn't forget one last thing~~

═════ ◈ ═════

"Ju-nlai?" Xu Fen stammered, his face twisting into an expression of disbelief. The boy, no, the boy, who once knelt before him, who had suffered beneath his cruelty, now stood in front of him as a figure that exuded nothing but cold authority. The sight rattled Fen to his core.

Junlai’s gaze locked onto him, dead and distant, as though he were staring through him. “I came to meet my brothers,” he said, his voice as calm as the still waters of a lake, but carrying the weight of a storm hidden just beneath the surface.

“Oh really? Why is that?” Fen’s words dripped with thinly veiled disdain, though his insides were anything but calm. He took a cautious step backward, uncertain of what Junlai intended. The boy had always been an afterthought, a lesser player in the family’s schemes. But that had changed, and Fen knew it.

Junlai’s eyes flickered over the room, moving like cold knives, and finally settled on the women standing behind him. His gaze was hollow, merciless. “Are you going to bring them out, or...?" His words trailed off, but the implication was clear. He wasn’t asking, he was commanding. His tone had a chilling finality, as though the fate of everyone in that room rested solely in his hands now.

Fen felt the air constrict around him, the tension thickening with each passing second. He swallowed hard, unable to hide his discomfort. With a reluctant sigh and a sour expression, he turned on his heel and went to summon the others, though it pained him to do so. He knew it was futile to resist. The man who stood in his mansion now was not the boy he had once controlled but something far more dangerous.

Minutes passed, each one dragging as Fen stood nervously, but when the Xu brothers arrived, they entered with a mixture of curiosity and defiance. They were offended, of course, by Junlai’s sudden appearance, but there was a deeper undercurrent of fear in their eyes

"Same as always..." Junlai murmured to himself, but his smile, if it could even be called that, was something else entirely. It was a sharp, knowing grin, filled with something dangerous. His voice rose, becoming almost melodic in its dark amusement. "Which is going to make it more fun!"

For the first time in the Xu household, the black sheep of the family, Junlai, let out a laugh, but it was no ordinary laugh. It was a hollow, manic laugh that seemed to echo off the walls. The sound was unsettling, almost inhuman, a reminder of the twisted journey that had led him to this moment.

Junlai’s eyes never left them as he spoke again, his voice low and chilling. “You see… I’ve come to remind you what happens when you think you can break me. You’ve burned me before… but now, I’m going to return the favour.”

Fen’s heart skipped a beat. He had always thought he could control Junlai, keep him beneath his bootheel. He had been wrong.

“Now, I think it’s time for you to understand what it feels like.”

It took one subtle gesture from Junlai and the guards moved quickly, and efficiently, grabbing the Xu brothers and laying them down on the floor. Their hands were bound, their legs spread wide, and Junlai’s eyes glinted with a dangerous gleam as he stepped closer, his boots making a soft but deliberate thud with each step. The room seemed to grow colder.

"No--p-please...forgive them...NO! I BEG YOU!" Fen's voice mixed with his son's pleas as well which earned him a slap from Junlai. That was all it took to reduce them to sobs and whimpers.

"Shut your fucking mouth, whore. And watch." He dug his hands into Fen's hair and steadied him beside himself. "Look, how cute they look." He giggled.

The guard poured more water onto the brothers' feet, the boiling liquid now bubbling and splashing as it engulfed their limbs. The screams grew louder, desperate. One of the brothers jerked against his restraints, his body writhing in pain, but there was nowhere to go. Fen could hear their flesh sizzling, the sound of raw skin peeling and blistering under the scalding heat. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. He had put them through this once before. Now it was his turn to witness the consequences. God, he always loved fire and its power. In fact, he began to see himself in it. Agile, dangerous, unyielding and most importantly, passionate when it came to you.

Fen watched, trembling, as the heat of the water burned into the skin of his sons. Junlai stood tall, his form casting a long shadow over the brothers writhing in pain, and spoke in a voice that resonated with unrelenting authority: “Let this be a reminder, boys." As he turned to leave, his guards following behind him, the sound of his laughter lingered in the air, a dark, triumphant melody that filled the hearts of those who heard it with dread.

Now is the turn of some concubines who have been acting up recently in your absence. Surely, they won't mind a little visit, right?

"Everyone stresses out your father soo much, don't they?" He cooed , caressing his flat abdomen as he settled in the carriage.

Nevertheless, it's all entertainment for him.

976 notes · View notes

brattyspence · 28 days ago

Text

safe and sound | s.reid

summary: in which post-prison!spencer finds himself so comforted by your presence that he can’t help but fall asleep whenever he’s around you. (anyone else remember that tiktok trend abt how frequently falling asleep around certain people is a sign of someone feeling safe? no? just me?)

tags: fluffy! post-prison!spence (but its not rlly mentioned in detail)(just reminding u all that man is Traumatized capital T), gun mentioned, sleeping… that’s it i think

a/n: hey idk how to follow up my last fic so here is this??? its a drabble!

word count: 651

(a very short) masterlist here

You had been sitting on your couch, laptop open on your lap as you typed away the last bit of paperwork you needed to complete for the night. The TV was playing softly, some random documentary channel you’d put on hours ago. The room was dim, only the soft lighting from the table side lamp illuminating the space.

Even though your relationship was relatively new, you were at a point where simply existing in each other's presence was an acceptable reason to hang out. You didn't need to be doing something, you were just content to exist in each others orbit.

In recent weeks, you’d observed a new phenomenon; nearly every time he came to your apartment, he would fall asleep within an hour.

Not that particularly you minded. Sometimes you found yourself tangled somewhere in his arms, the book you had been reading slipping from your fingertips as you also fell asleep. Other times you were so busy with work and laundry and whatever else you were up to to notice that he had been sleeping at all.

You shut your laptop and placed it on the coffee table in front of you. It was late now, nearly 11pm.

“Spence…” you reached over to ruffle his hair softly, hoping to stir him. “It's past 11.”

He made a slight whine of protest before fluttering his eyes open. You watched him squint at the digital clock on your TV stand. “Ugh. I'm sorry. I’m going.”

“I wasn't kicking you out,” you reply. “I just thought maybe you didn't want to spend the night on my couch.”

He sat up, rubbing his eyes for a few seconds. “Yeah, that's probably not very smart,” he replied, a slight smile creeping across his lips. “I don't know why your apartment makes me so tired.”

He did know, in fact. It was no secret that the past year hadn't been kind to him. Prison had left him changed, and touched every part of his life irreversibly, including his own home. It was stupid, he knew. He was a fully grown man, a trained agent who owned a gun and knew how to use it, and he still could never feel as safe in his own apartment as he was in yours. You were the only person in his life who didn’t see him during that point in his life. You hadn't watched him change and expected anything from him. Being in your presence was the only time there was no weight to bear.

“It's more than fine with me,” you said. You shifted across the cushions enough to tuck your head against his shoulder. “You can sleep on my couch whenever you want. But you should probably consider the bed instead, if you don't want back pain for the rest of your life.”

He chuckled softly, sliding an arm around your side to settle you against him. “I’ll consider it.”

The air grew still again. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of his fingertips tracing lines up and down your side. Eventually you felt him place his cheek against your head. You were certain you’d also succumb to the temptation of sleep that had been creeping up on you.

“You should just stay the night,” you mumbled.

“We both have work tomorrow, honey.”

You huffed. “But we’re so comfy right here. Please?”

“Maybe I can just get up extra early tomorrow to have time to go home…” he said. “Just because you asked so nicely.”

“Mhm. Do that.” You nodded. “And next time just pack a bag. Or I'll make space for you in my closet. Whatever will get you to stay.”

You felt him laugh quietly before he removed his arm from its position around you. He stood up before you could protest further, offering his hand to you.

“Come on. Let's go to bed like adults.”

You groaned, accepting his hand anyway.

#spencer reid x reader #my things!#short fics #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencerreid

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ponderingmoonlight · 2 months ago

Note

Hello!! I hope you’re doing amazing!!! I really like your megumi works, so id like to request a fic where him and the reader have a very under cover secret relationship and yuji,nobara and gojo try to figure out why fushiguros been acting so weird. I’d love to see it! And more megumi works 🙏🏽. It’s just a request it’s totally okay if you don’t want to!! Hope you have an amazing week!! 💗💗

Okay, I probably never laughed this much while writing a fic lmao, this right here is ridiculous y'all

Keeping your relationship with Megumi a secret until you can't anymore

Pairing: Megumi x fem!reader; pure comedy friendship with Nobara and Yuji lol

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis: Megumi Fushiguro’s secret relationship with you has been going smoothly—until his friends start noticing his odd behavior. Yuji and Nobara grow suspicious, launching a hilariously relentless mission to uncover what he’s hiding, while Gojo sits back, amused by the chaos. Will the two of you finally confess?

Warnings: y'all, I almost died writing this hilarious piece of work lmao, I never praise my own work but that bonus has me rolling, if you're looking for a bandage for your broken heart there it is, fluff fluff fluff

Please let me know what you think! If this does well, I might write some more about the chaotic trio lol

You never thought keeping a secret would be this much fun.

Your relationship with Megumi started quietly, just like most things with him. There was no grand confession, no dramatic kiss in the rain. It was slow, understated, like the way shadows stretch out under the setting sun. You had been drawn into his orbit naturally, like you’d been waiting for it to happen all along.

Still, it wasn’t exactly planned. One moment you were sitting next to each other in silence, and the next you were sitting a little too close. Your fingers brushed. His eyes lingered. The air between you became charged with unspoken things, and soon enough, stolen moments were the only thing keeping you sane. The decision to keep it quiet came easily: neither of you had any desire to deal with the chaos that would break out if anyone found out. And besides, it was kind of thrilling.

But now it’s starting to get tricky.

It’s a normal Wednesday when the subtle shift in the atmosphere begins. Megumi is acting just a little too normal - stiffer, as if he’s hyper-aware of everything. He’s not good at this, at pretending everything is fine when there’s something simmering underneath. And unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for his odd behavior to catch some unwanted attention.

“Hey, Megumi,” Yuji calls from across the room, his eyes squinting suspiciously.

“You’re acting weird. Are you okay?”

Megumi doesn’t even flinch, though his eyes are literally glued to the ground.

“I’m fine.”

That’s it. Flat, simple, closed. He’s good at short answers. It should be enough. It’s not.

Yuji leans over the back of the couch, brow furrowed in confusion.

“No, you’re definitely acting off. You haven’t been sarcastic all morning. And usually by now, you’ve threatened to hit me at least twice.”

Megumi sighs, fingers twitching in his lap, the only outward sign of his discomfort.

“I’m fine, Yuji. Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

Yuji is definitely not convinced. He glances at Nobara, who’s lounging nearby with her arms crossed, already suspicious. She had been eyeing Megumi the second he walked in, catching onto his strange energy faster than Yuji had.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed it too,” she adds, voice sharp.

“Something’s up. You’ve been... I don’t know, distracted?”

“Seriously, I’m—” Megumi starts, but Nobara cuts him off, grinning.

“You’re not hiding anything from us, are you, Fushiguro?” Her eyes gleam with mischief, and you can tell she’s just playing around.

For now.

“Oh, I think I know it!”, Yuji suddenly announces with his arms stretched in the air.

“Do you really, idiot?”, Nobara remarks.

You almost lose your cool, cold sweat dripping down your neck while waiting for Yuji’s next words. He didn’t catch it, did he? Not when you’ve been carefully avoiding being too close to Megumi while they’re around since you first joined Jujutsu High. He simply can’t know it-

Megumi’s eyes flick to you, a barely noticeable glance paired with his reddened cheeks, but it’s enough. Too much. Your heart skips in your chest, and you quickly look away, hoping no one else caught it. But then-

“Oh.” Yuji’s eyes widen in realization, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Oh, I get it now.”

Megumi’s spine visibly stiffens.

“No, you don’t.”

But it’s too late. Yuji has already decided he’s figured it out.

“You’ve got a crush on someone, don’t you?” Yuji practically shouts, leaning forward in his seat with excitement.

“That’s why you’ve been all weird lately!”

Nobara sits up, clearly intrigued by this new development. “Wait, what? Megumi has a crush?”

“I do not,” Megumi says, but he’s starting to lose his calm now.

You can tell by the way his hand runs through his hair a little too harshly, as if he’s trying to ground himself.

You bite back a smile. Megumi can be as composed as he wants, but when it comes to things like this, he’s terrible at hiding it.

“You’re totally lying,” Nobara declares, standing up and crossing the room to get a better look at him.

“Who is it? Do we know them?”

Megumi groans, pressing his fingers to his temples as if he’s already getting a headache. You’re trying hard not to laugh because if you do, they’ll turn their attention to you. You’ve been careful this whole time to stay out of the line of fire, just a silent observer to this chaos.

But you know it’s only a matter of time.

“I’m not lying,” Megumi grumbles, clearly regretting every decision that led him to this point. “There’s no one.”

It’s almost convincing. Almost.

Yuji leans back, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Nah, you’re definitely lying. You’re terrible at it. You get all tense, like right now.”

“I’m always tense,” Megumi shoots back.

“True,” Nobara agrees,

“but this is different. You’re acting sketchy.”

Megumi shoots her a flat look, but Nobara only smirks back. She’s having way too much fun with this.

“Is it the one we’ve met at that pizza place yesterday, the one with a big ass and those nice hair?”, Yuji shouts into the conversation.

“The girl from yesterday?”, you repeat before you can stop yourself, arms crossing in front of your tightening chest.

“You guys are gross.”

Megumi’s gaze meets yours, panic shimmering underneath the surface while he fumbles with his own hands.

“What? No! It’s not that one!”

“Oh, not that one, huh? Who is it, then?”

“Fine,” Megumi says, standing abruptly.

“I’m going for a walk.”

Before they can say another word, he stalks out of the room, leaving you alone with Yuji and Nobara. You let out a quiet breath of relief, grateful they didn’t notice you.

Yuji turns to Nobara, eyes wide.

“This is huge. Megumi’s got a crush.”

Nobara hums thoughtfully, rubbing her chin.

“He’s never shown any interest in anyone before. It must be serious.”

“I wonder who it is,” Yuji muses, glancing around the room as if expecting the answer to jump out at him.

Your pulse quickens. If you stay here any longer, you’re going to blow your cover.

“I’m gonna grab some water,” you announce quickly, standing up.

You manage to make it halfway to the kitchen before Nobara’s voice calls after you, filled with sudden realization.

“Wait a minute. You were with him all morning, weren’t you?”

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Weren’t you two on a mission yesterday?” Yuji adds, piecing it together far too quickly for your liking.

“And last weekend, too?”

Panic rises in your throat, but you manage to keep your expression neutral when you turn back to face them.

“We’ve just been on a few missions together. That’s all” you say, voice steady.

Nobara narrows her eyes, scrutinizing you.

“Uh-huh. And you didn’t notice him acting weird?”

“Not really. Maybe he’s just worn-out” you lie, doing your best to stay calm.

Yuji tilts his head, still unconvinced but willing to drop it for now.

“Yeah, maybe.”

But Nobara isn’t so easily swayed.

“You sure? Because you’re looking a little-”

“Nobara,” you interrupt,

“you’re overthinking it.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, with a final hum of suspicion, she shrugs and lets it go.

But just as you think you’re in the clear, a new voice cuts through the tension.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

Gojo saunters in, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose, a knowing smirk already playing on his lips. He must have been eavesdropping because he’s grinning like he’s just hit the jackpot.

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to figure out what’s up with Megumi,” he notes, voice dripping with amusement.

“That kid’s an enigma even to himself.”

Yuji perks up at the sight of Gojo, excited to rope someone else into their investigation.

“We think he’s got a crush.”

Gojo pauses, grin widening.

“Oh, is that so?”

You stand frozen in place as Gojo’s eyes slowly slide over to you, lingering for a beat too long. He knows. You don’t know how he knows, but he knows. He’s always been good at reading between the lines, picking up on things that most people miss. Megumi that traitor, did he really leave you all alone with these two and now even Gojo?

His smirk deepens.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, leaning casually against the wall, clearly enjoying this far too much.

“I wonder who it could be.”

You’re going to kill Megumi. You’re both dead. This is it. The end of your secret.

But before Gojo can say anything else, Megumi walks back into the room, his expression darkening as he notices Gojo’s presence.

“What are you doing here?” Megumi asks, his voice flat.

“Oh, just catching up with the kids. They were telling me about your little crush” Gojo replies innocently.

Megumi’s eyes dart between you, Yuji, Nobara, and Gojo, clearly calculating his next move.

“There’s no crush,” he replies, exasperation creeping into his voice again.

“Yuji’s just being an idiot.”

“Hey!” Yuji protests, but Megumi ignores him.

Gojo chuckles, pushing off the wall with an exaggerated stretch.

“Well, I think I’ll let you all handle this. Good luck with the investigation.”

He winks in your direction before sauntering out of the room, leaving you tense and trying to avoid Megumi’s gaze.

Yuji and Nobara are still watching him, and you can tell they’re not going to let this go anytime soon.

“So,” Nobara says, crossing her arms. “Are you going to tell us who it is, or are we going to have to follow you around until we figure it out?”

Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly fed up. “There’s no one.”

“You’re such a bad liar,” Yuji mutters, shaking his head.

Megumi’s about to respond, but then his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, glances at the screen, and his expression softens for just a split second before he tucks it away again.

You know who it is. He knows you know.

You’re barely holding back your laughter at this point, trying to keep a straight face. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you have to look away before anyone else notices.

But Megumi, in his ever-stubborn way, is still trying to salvage this mess.

“I’m going for another walk,” he announces abruptly, clearly done with this interrogation.

“Uh-huh,” Nobara calls after him, grinning like a cat who just caught a mouse.

“Sure, go clear your head, lover boy.”

You can’t help but chuckle quietly as Megumi shoots you a helpless look before heading out the door.

As soon as he’s gone, Yuji leans over to Nobara, whispering loudly.

“Do you think he’s texting his crush?”

Nobara grins, leaning back in her chair.

“Definitely.”

You bite your lip, doing your best to keep your composure while peeking at your phone.

Sorry for the mess. Meet me later in my dorm?

This is going to get much harder to hide.

Later that night, when you and Megumi finally have a moment to yourselves at his dorm, he sighs heavily, dropping down onto the couch beside you. He looks exhausted, and not just from the missions. The day’s events have clearly taken their toll.

“This is getting ridiculous,” he mutters, rubbing his temples.

You smile softly, leaning into his side.

“It’s kind of your fault, you know.”

Megumi groans.

“I know.”

There’s a moment of silence as you both sit there, the weight of your secret relationship pressing down on you. But it’s not a bad weight. It’s more like a blanket, warm and comforting, something shared between the two of you. Something that’s just yours.

Still, you can’t help but tease him.

“You’re really bad at lying.”

Megumi turns his head to look at you, a small, exasperated smile pulling at his lips.

“Shut up.”

You laugh quietly, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the tension melt away as his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining. For now, it’s just the two of you, and that’s all that matters.

“Maybe we should tell them,” you suggest softly, half-joking.

Megumi’s body stiffens for a second, but then he relaxes, a soft hum escaping his throat.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, voice low.

“But not yet.”

You smile, content with the secrecy for now. It’s your little world, and as chaotic as it is, it’s yours to navigate together.

And for now, that’s enough.

Bonus:

The decision to finally tell them wasn’t exactly well-planned. In fact, it wasn’t planned at all.

It happened after another long day of training. Yuji had been particularly insufferable, constantly pestering Megumi about his “mystery crush,” while Nobara was fuming over how Megumi wouldn’t let her in on the secret.

You and Megumi exchanged looks all day, the unspoken question hanging between you both: Should we just tell them?

By the time the sun set and everyone was lounging in the common area, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Nobara was pacing the room, practically radiating with frustration, while Yuji sat on the edge of the couch, watching Megumi like a hawk.

You were sitting next to Megumi, trying not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. You hadn’t expected the pressure to mount like this. They’d been relentless for days now.

“Okay, I’m done!”

Nobara throws her hands in the air, eyes narrowing at Megumi.

“I can’t take it anymore! You have to tell us. Who is it?”

Yuji nods rapidly, his eyes wide and pleading.

“Please, man, just tell us! The suspense is killing me.”

Megumi lets out a long, exasperated sigh. He’s been handling this for a week now, and it’s clearly taken its toll. He shoots you a quick, sideways glance, silently asking for your input.

You shrug with a small smile, mouthing.

“Your call.”

With another sigh, Megumi straightens up and clears his throat.

“Fine,” he says, his voice firm.

“I’ll tell you.”

Both Nobara and Yuji freeze, their eyes going wide with excitement.

“Finally!” Nobara yells, nearly vibrating with impatience.

“Okay, okay. Who is it? Is it someone we know?” Yuji questions, leaning in closer.

Megumi looks at you again, and you give him a reassuring nod.

Then, with a small smirk tugging at his lips, Megumi casually slips his hand into yours, right there in front of them.

At first, there’s silence. Complete, deafening silence.

Yuji’s mouth falls open, eyes flicking between your joined hands and your faces, his brain clearly short-circuiting.

Nobara, on the other hand, just stares. Blinks. Then her hands slowly rise to cover her mouth, her eyes growing impossibly wide.

“Wait—” Yuji finally speaks, voice squeaking a little.

“YOU—YOU AND—”

Megumi sighs.

“Yeah. Me and (y/n). We’ve been dating for a while now.”

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

“WHAT?!” Yuji practically screams, jumping up from the couch and pointing at your intertwined hands like they’re some sort of mythical creature.

“NO WAY! This whole time? You guys were dating this whole time?!”

Nobara just starts shrieking incoherently. It’s a mix of disbelief and outrage, her voice a high-pitched wail as she dramatically collapses onto the couch like she’s been personally betrayed.

“YOU HID THIS FROM US?!” she yells, clutching a pillow like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

“HOW COULD YOU?! I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!”

You burst out laughing, unable to keep it in any longer. Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting every choice that led to this moment.

Yuji is pacing now, running his hands through his hair, still trying to process everything.

“How did I not see it? I mean, I thought you had a crush, but I didn’t think it was… this!” he gestures wildly between the two of you, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Oh my God!” Nobara yells again, standing up suddenly.

“This is insane! You’ve been sneaking around this whole time? That’s it. I demand details! Right now. How long has this been going on?”

“Yeah!” Yuji chimes in, pointing accusingly at Megumi.

“How did you manage to keep this a secret from me of all people?”

You laugh again, raising your hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay, calm down! It’s been a few months. We just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“A few months?” Nobara shrieks, grabbing Yuji’s arm like she needs to hold onto something before she passes out.

“That’s practically a year in relationship time! How did you keep this from us? I’m so offended right now.”

“I knew you were acting weird!” Yuji exclaims, throwing his hands in the air.

“All those times you disappeared, Megumi! I knew something was up!”

Megumi groans, running a hand through his hair.

“You guys are overreacting.”

“Overreacting? This is the most exciting thing that’s happened all year and you hid it from us! You’re for the streets, Fushiguro!” Nobara echoes, voice high-pitched with disbelief.

Yuji nods, agreeing way too quickly.

“Yeah, we need details. Dates, first kiss, how did it start, everything.”

Before you can answer, a familiar voice interrupts the chaos.

“Oh, you guys are just figuring this out now?”

You all turn to see Gojo leaning casually against the doorway, a smug grin plastered on his face, arms crossed like he’s been watching this unfold for a while.

“What?” Nobara screeches again.

“YOU KNEW?!”

Gojo shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Obviously. It wasn’t exactly hard to figure out.”

Yuji’s jaw drops to the floor.

“You didn’t tell us?”

Gojo tilts his head, grinning.

“And ruin the fun of watching you two idiots freak out? Why would I do that?”

Nobara looks like she’s about to combust.

“So, you just let us suffer, while you were sitting there knowing the whole time?!”

Gojo shrugs again, completely unbothered.

“You’re welcome.”

Yuji groans, dramatically flopping onto the couch beside Nobara.

“I can’t believe this. I feel so betrayed.”

Nobara crosses her arms, huffing.

“Yeah, same. This is worse than the time Yuji ate my fries.”

“Hey, that was an accident!” Yuji protests.

Nobara glares at him.

“It was not an accident.”

Tags:

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@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr @ryumurin

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cocobeanncteez · 4 months ago

Text

Song Series One-shot: Choi San — Into You

Genre: SMUT (MDNI / 18+), fluff, idol au, fwb to lovers au

Pairing: ateez San x idol!reader (fem)

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings/content: heavy making out, dry humping, breast play, oral sex (f receiving) / cunnilingus, clit play, fingering, hand job, cum eating (f), vaginal penetration, protected sex (pill), multiple orgasms, aftercare, pet names (sweetheart, baby, good girl, pretty girl), praising, sorry if I missed anything!

Disclaimer: Please note that my Song Series One-shots are purely based on how I personally interpret the lyrics of the songs I chose for this series. It is not based on the music video (if it has one).

Song Inspiration: Into You by Ariana Grande

You watched the stage lights dim, casting a soft glow over the bustling, cheering crowd, various colored lightsticks twinkling like little stars. Your group stepped into the backstage area, and a familiar rush of adrenaline coursed through you while a staff member helped you take your in-ear monitors off.

Tonight’s performance at a major music festival had been electric, your voice carrying through the venue like a siren’s call. Your group had been practicing very hard for this festival, and your body was begging for some well-deserved rest and some food.

But now, amidst the crowd of technicians, staff, and fellow artists backstage, you searched for one person: Choi San.

“Good job out there, Y/N,” your group's leader said and pats you on the shoulder. You offered her a quick smile in return, but your eyes continued scanning the area. She smirked at you and left you alone, knowing exactly who you were searching for.

Then you spot him, leaning against the far wall, his gaze already fixed on you. San’s dark eyes glittered with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. He straightened up, pushing away from the wall. He strides towards you, his eyes scanning you from head to toe, mentally thanking your stylists for putting you in such a great outfit that really highlighted your beautiful features and hugged your body.

“Y/N,” he greets, his voice a low rumble. You bowed to him as he was your senior in this industry, knowing that there are people around that could be observing the two of you very closely. “You were incredible out there," he complimented.

San looked visibly exhausted as Ateez had performed right before your group did. He wanted to lie down and close his eyes, but he would never miss the uncommon opportunity to watch you perform on stage. Despite the tiredness, he still looked like he was going for a magazine photoshoot.

You laughed lightly, though the sound is tinged with nervous excitement from seeing him after weeks. “Thanks, San. You weren’t so bad yourself." Your eyes couldn't help but scan his muscular arms, marveling at how built he was. He seemed to have gained more muscle from the last time you saw him weeks ago.

He smirked, a teasing glint in his eye. “Just not bad, huh?”

“You know what I mean,” you replied, rolling your eyes playfully. “What’s up?”

San’s expression turns serious, his gaze piercing. He looked at his surroundings before shifting his gaze back to you. “Can we talk somewhere private?”

Your heart skips a beat. “Sure, follow me, I know a place.”

It hadn’t always been this way—the two of you lost in each other’s orbit. In fact, the first time you met San was far from the intense, passionate moment you now shared. It was at an after-party of an awards show a year ago, a glitzy affair full of laughter, music, and mingling with fellow idols.

You were standing by the bar, nursing a drink and chatting with some fellow idol friends when you felt a presence beside you. Turning, you found San leaning casually against the counter of a bar, a mischievous smile on his lips.

When the bartender approached him, he gently cleared his throat. "One chocolate martini with extra chocolate liqueur, please," he ordered, and you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, utterly fascinated by his choice of cocktail.

“Y/N, right?” he asked when he noticed he caught your attention, his voice smooth.

You nodded, intrigued. “And you’re San. Your group's been killing it lately.”

He chuckled, a low, warm sound, and you noticed his cute dimples. “Thanks, that's kind of you to say," he said, "I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I’m a fan of your work.”

You felt a flush of pleasure at his words, and your heart was beating rapidly. “Thank you, and I'm a big fan of your work too," you said, taking a sip of your drink. "So, what brings you here?”

“Just looking to unwind a bit,” he replied, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Maybe meet some interesting people.”

The night had flowed effortlessly from there. You found yourselves in deep conversation, talking about everything from music to dreams and fears. There was an undeniable chemistry, a pull that neither of you could ignore.

It was no surprise when, later that night, you ended up in a quiet, secluded corner of the party's venue, lips locked in a fervent kiss. The taste of him, the chocolate you could taste on his lips, the feel of his hands on your skin—it was intoxicating.

That night had been the first of many. Whenever your groups crossed paths, you found yourselves drawn to each other, sneaking away for stolen moments of passion and connection. Each encounter only deepened the bond between you two, making it harder to deny the feelings that had grown.

Presently, you led him to a secluded corner of the venue, away from prying eyes and eager ears, no cameras in sight; this was a place you found when you had a mental breakdown during an awards show and needed a place to cry.

The muffled sounds of the ongoing concert created a bubble of intimacy around you two. San steps closer, his presence overwhelming.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallow hard, your pulse quickening. “Yeah?”

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours while he stepped even closer to you. “I can barely breathe when you’re around, Y/N. It’s like you’ve got this hold on me, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “San...” He was so close, and you realized that he indeed got bigger since the last time you saw him. The new haircut and dyed navy blue hair made his features look sharper. Half his abs were covered by the black leather crop top he was wearing, and his pants seemed to be hanging a little lower than what you saw on the screen when he was performing before. You wanted to get even closer to him; you wanted to cross the line.

San’s voice broke through your little reverie. “Remember the first time we met?”

You smiled, nodding. “At that party. You were so confident.”

He laughed softly. “I was nervous as hell. But there was something about you, Y/N. I couldn’t stay away.”

“And now we’re here,” you murmured, your hand reaching out to his face, fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “And I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

The temperature in the area seemed to rise, the air thick with anticipation. You knew that this was a turning point, a moment that would define whatever came next. And you were ready, ready to take that leap with San.

He takes your hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. “I don’t want to play games anymore. I need to know if this is real, if we’re real.”

You squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. “It feels real to me, San. But it’s dangerous, you know that. With everyone watching us…” One mistake and a scandal could ruin both your careers.

San steps even closer, placing a finger under your chin to tilt your head back, his lips just inches from yours. “A little danger never scared me, Y/N. What scares me is not knowing what we could be.”

Your heart races as his words sink in. The air between you crackles with unspoken desire. “So, what do we do?”

His eyes darken with determination. “We take a chance. No more waiting, no more hiding.”

You nod, your decision made. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

San’s lips curve into a slow, confident smile. “Then come here.”

When you finally pull away at the interruption of the crowd's cheering when another group finished performing, both of you are breathless. San’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes closed in bliss. "Come over tomorrow?" he mumbled.

He pulls you into his arms, the world fading away as your lips meet in a kiss that’s been weeks in the making. The passion between you is undeniable, a fire that’s been waiting to ignite. You lose yourself in the moment, the taste of him, the feel of his body against yours. This was dangerous. This was scandalous.

And oddly, that's how you wanted it.

You didn't catch what he said. "Huh?"

Checking your appearance in your bathroom mirror one last time, you shoved your wallet, keys, and your phone into your bag. You switched your bedroom lights off before you tip-toed to your apartment door.

He moved to place a kiss below your ear. "Come over tomorrow night... my apartment," he whispered. "I'll pick you up."

"Going somewhere, honey?" you heard a familiar voice behind you, and you gasped in shock. "God! Maya, you scared me," you said to your fellow band mate and noticed she seemed to be going somewhere as well. "Where are you going?"

She giggled, "With you, of course." You raised an eyebrow. "I wanted to see Seonghwa, so he's coming with San to get us," she elaborates and you smirk at her. "Anyway, lets go, Y/N, they're here."

The two of you put your face masks and hats on before making your way downstairs to the parking lot.

"So you and Seonghwa... since when?" you ask and she blushes.

"Right before their Europe tour," you says and your eyes widened.

"That's like, what, five months now?"

She nodded. "We're keeping it secret. You and San are the only ones that know now."

The familiar black car came into view and you and Maya quickly got into the backseat. You greet both the boys and notice how Seonghwa's eyes sparkled when he saw Maya. You were genuinely surprised they managed to keep this a secret.

San began driving, and thankfully there was barely any traffic on the road, so you reached earlier than expected. The security system in this apartment complex was incredible, so you felt at ease.

The four of you made small conversation in the elevator when you reached, and as soon as you entered San's apartment, he was pulling you away to his room.

"There's cake in the fridge, Y/N," Seonghwa called out behind you. You yell out a quick thanks before San shut his bedroom door and pinned you against the door. He took your mask and hat off, tossing it aside on the little table by the door, his own mask following.

San placed his arms on the door on either side of you, trapping you in between his arms. "Hi," he says, dimples showing, causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach. God, you're so into him.

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You're so cute, Sannie," you say, pecking his lips. He giggles in response, returning a peck on your lips.

"What do you wanna do?" he asks, dragging you further in his room and making you sit down on his bed. San's room wasn't unfamiliar to you, having been here at least ten times already. You always loved how clean and tidy his room was, and how it was laced with his scent.

"Hmm, anything you want," you reply.

"How about a movie? Sounds good?" You nodded and San moved to get under the sheets, pulling you into his arms, putting the blanket over you both. He reached for the TV remote on his bedside table with one arm, while the other was still around you. You watched his arms flex, and you thanked god that he was wearing a tank top right now.

While he scrolled through the list of movies, you were stroking his arm, marveling at the bigger muscles. His bicep looked so juicy, you couldn't help the thought of wanting to bite it.

And your impulsive thoughts won.

Realizing what you did, you slowly turned to look at San who had an eyebrow raised at your actions. Before you could explain yourself, he moved to hover on top of you, capturing your lips with his own, kissing you hard. You arch your legs and pull him closer to you by his back so that he was now in between your legs, his chest pressed against yours. You moan softly when you felt his boner rub against your clothed clit.

The temperature seemed to be rising the more you kissed, and San pulled away to catch his breath— except, his way of catching his breath was trailing kisses from your lips to your neck.

"Look what you started," he whispered against your neck, placing open mouthed kisses, being very careful to not leave marks on your skin despite how desperately he wanted to.

He pulled away to look at you. "I was waiting for you to make the first move before I did," you say, your tongue poking out slightly to wet your lips, catching San's attention.

You moved your hands down the sides of his body, stopping at the waistband of his sweatpants. You slip a finger inside to hook it under the band of his underwear, pulling it away from his skin and then letting it go so that it slapped against his skin.

"Y/N," he starts, but you push him by the shoulder so his back was against the bed, and you straddle his lap. Your fingers grasp the ends of your t-shirt before you lift it up and over your head, tossing it to the floor. Your chest was covered by a lacey bra, and San could see the color of your nipples through it. You leaned down to kiss him, hungrier and hotter. His hands explored the exposed skin of your back while you slowly grinded on his hard cock, earning a low moan from him.

San sucked in a breath at your bold actions. He wanted you. He wanted you so bad. He's held himself back so much. The two of you still haven't crossed the line, keeping it strictly to making out.

And you wanted to change that. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

San's hand hovered over the hook of your bra, and he pulled away from the kiss to look at you. "Can I?" he asks and you instantly nod, letting him unhook your bra and toss it aside.

"God, you're so pretty," he says, leaning forward to place a kiss in the valley of your chest, and goosebumps erupted on your skin.

San trailed open mouthed kisses to your nipple, taking it in his mouth, tongue darting out to flick the bud, while one of his hands cupped your other boob, massaging it gently.

"San..." you moaned, hands moving to play with his hair while he repeated his actions on your other boob.

You rolled your hips back and forth on his hard cock and he pulled away to look at you with hooded eyes. "Y/N... baby, you're driving me crazy," he mumbles, his hands moving to the waistband of your sweatpants. "Tell me what you want, sweetheart."

"San, I want you," you moan when his hands at your waist press you down on him. "Fuck, I just... I need you right now, San. I want you to fuck me, fill me up with your cock." You wanted a little less conversation and a little more of him touching your body.

San flipped you onto your back and hovered over your body. "Are you sure, baby?" he asks and you hum in response. "Use your words, sweetheart."

"Yes, Sannie, please..." you beg and that was all it took for San to take your sweatpants off along with your panties, shedding his own clothes right after.

And god was naked San truly a marvelous sight. Your hands glided up his arms to his shoulders, before dipping down to his chest and then his hard abs. You maintained eye contact when your hand wrapped around his hard length, slowly pumping his cock.

Only for him to swiftly lay in between your legs, taking your clit in his mouth, his fingers still maintaining the same pumping pace. "What a pretty pussy," he compliments, sucking on your clit, "And it's all mine."

San sucked in a breath while his own hand moved to cup your pussy, his finger swiping along your slit to collect the wetness there, rubbing it on your clit for some lubrication. He leaned down to capture your lips with kiss while his finger moved on your clit in circular motions, your toes curling in the process.

After working on your clit, he finally slipped a finger inside your dripping hole, and you moaned at the stretch. He pumped his fingers to match the pace you kept while pumping his cock, and a second finger joined the first. The stretch made your hips buck up while you moaned, and you were starting to lose your senses. Your walls were practically sucking his fingers, and San pulled away from kissing you.

"San, fuck, please don't stop!" you moaned loudly, your thighs squeezed his head while he lapped at your clit, his wet tongue pressing harder on you. He hummed, the vibration giving you an extra push towards your building orgasm. You were so close to coming, and he seemed to notice that. His hand and tongue worked faster on you, and seconds later, you were releasing all over his fingers. He lapped at your throbbing clit once more before pulling his fingers out, sucking them clean, eyes closing at your sweet taste.

"Are you ready for me, sweetheart?" He asks, lining himself up with your wet entrance.

"W-wait San, let me..." you reached for his cock to return the favor, but he stopped you.

"No, baby, that's okay," he says softly with a smile. "I'll cum too quickly otherwise, and I'd rather cum in you. Is that okay, pretty girl?"

"Yes, Sannie..." He pumps his cock one more time before sliding his tip into your warm hole, sucking in a breath through his teeth.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm not even fully in and you're already so fucking tight," he moans, slowing pushing himself fully in, finally crossing the line.

His cock stretched you out so well, and your eyes closed shut, your body feeling like it was on fire. You were clenching around his length, and San swore he was going to bust right then and there. He leaned down to kiss you softly. "I'm going to start moving, okay?" he whispered against your lips. Once you hum in approval, San goes back to kissing you while rolling his hips, pushing in and out of you in a steady, slow pace, wanting to take his time to familiarize the way you felt around his cock.

But you were growing slightly impatient. You pulled away from kissing him. "Sannie, baby, please... faster please..." you moan, and he chuckles in response. "Please, Sannie."

"So impatient," he murmurs and he goes even slower to tease you, making you whine.

And then he pushes hard into you, knocking the air out of your lungs before thrusting into you faster like you asked.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you cried out, clawing at the sheets beneath you. San's hands gripped the black headboard of his bed, his arm muscles tightly flexing. "God, it- it feels so good, fuck."

You feel the coil of pleasure get tighter in your stomach, and you could tell San was close too. "You're taking my cock so well, fuck, Y/N, you're so pretty," he says, and wets his thumb in his mouth before reaching down to rub your clit, all while maintaining his pace, and you felt your pussy spasm.

"Are you close baby?" he grunts, "You gonna cum all over this dick? Hmm?"

You tried to respond to him, but your words were all jumbled and incoherent. San rubbed faster on your clit, and the coil in your stomach finally snapped. Your orgasm hits you in waves, your body shaking beneath him.

"Such a good girl for me," he cooed, chasing his own high. "Hold on, sweetheart, I'm a-almost... almost there," San says, thrusting even faster before he groans, his cock pulsing, indicating that he came, his cum painting your walls white. He thrusts two more times to milk himself dry, before collapsing onto you, being careful to not put all his weight on you.

You stroke his back and he kisses your collarbone before pulling out and lying down beside you. The room was filled with the sound of both you breathing heavily, heartbeats moving at a rapid pace.

San got off the bed to get some wet wipes before he wiped your dripping pussy, and you whined when the tissue touched your sensitive clit.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" San asks, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Hmm, sensitive," you mumble. "Can't feel my legs." He chuckles and leans down to kiss your head before disposing the wipes in his bathroom.

You got off the bed to head to the bathroom to pee and clean up a little more. While you were washing your hands, San wrapped his arms around you, turning you around to face him when you were done drying your hands on the hand towel. He gently pressed you against the sink, leaning in to kiss you oh so gently.

"I love you," you say against his lips. "I want to be with you, San."

"I love you too," he says, his heart swelling with happiness to finally hear the words he's been longing to hear. "I know you're scared, Y/N, and honestly I am too. This is dangerous and scandalous in our lives... but I love you a lot," he reaches out to cup your cheek, stroking your skin with the pad of his thumb. "We're humans before we're idols. We deserve to fall in love too. There's nothing I want more than to be your boyfriend, Y/N."

Tears well up in your eyes and you nod at his words. "I'd like that," you whisper, pulling him into a tight hug. San held you for a bit, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

"How about we shower, and then I'll make you some ramen?" he suggests, and you instantly agree, not wanting to waste any precious time you have with him.

San smiles widely, his cute dimples popping out while he kisses you all over your face, and you've never felt happier before.

God, you were so into him.

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smolkooks · 5 months ago

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incoming call... (part ii) - kenji sato

a/n: roughly 2k more words of kenji sato fluff! sequel to 'incoming call...' link to part i

ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚

“ouch!”

you snickered, “ken, i told you not to get too close! she doesn’t like strangers,” you leant down to scratch the little kitten’s cheeks, and because she knew you and you were undoubtedly her best friend, she purred in contentment, all the while giving kenji sato an irritated glare.

the nickname—ken—slipped off your tongue smoothly, the same way you’d been saying it for the past few months that you’d been spending around your highschool sweetheart. even though you’d been apart for so many years and hadn’t seen each other for so long, it had been easy to slip back into an old rhythm.

“fuck, i didn’t know she’d actually bite me, she looks so tiny,” he hissed, shaking his reddened finger.

“size means nothing when it comes to animals,” you retorted, and despite the way you rolled your eyes, you still handed him an ice pack from your freezer, “take this, big baby.”

he huffed but took it anyway, pressing it to his injury.

it had become a bit of a routine—after his games, he’d come over to your clinic to visit you while you handled the late-night clean ups. the rest of the vet team headed home at closing, but with no kids or family to care for, you often spent your evenings here, keeping the animals company and handling some of the extra paper work.

“how’s emi doing, by the way?” you said as you refilled some of the water bowls. most of the animals were sleeping at this time, but you still liked to make sure they were all fed and watered. in fact, it was better to do it while they were asleep—less whinging from the little babies for treats.

“she’s doing well,” he said, and it was his turn to roll his eyes as he leant against the bench, “attitude and all, as always.”

“she’s a teenage girl,” you said with a laugh, “it’s so normal. i was one, so i can affirm.”

“mhm,” he said, eyes gleaming, “i remember.”

it was weird, toeing this line with kenji sato. so long ago, you’d been each other’s universes and after separating to go to university, the two of you had been sucked into different orbits—him going into baseball in the states, and you pursuing veterinary medicine in australia. it almost felt like fate nudging you, having the two of you run into each other—back in japan all these years later.

saving you from responding, his phone rang at that very moment. being around kenji all these weeks had gotten you used to his late night calls—how he’d have to run off to take care of the city. but this call seemed to come from one of his teammates, with the familiar way he addressed the person on the other side of the line.

he’d told you that at first he didn’t have any friends here, too busy to do anything but work. but now, he’d grown close to plenty of his teammates and of course, he had you.

“yeah well, i’m kinda busy right now actually...why?” you overheard him say as you busied yourself with some clean up and tried not to look like you were eavesdropping, “oh...oh! yeah uh—what?! what the...” his change in tone piqued your interest.

“...right, thanks for telling me, i’ll call you back later, yuta. thanks...” he hung up, and turned sharply to you, meeting your awaiting gaze, “the press caught you, uh, getting into my car.”

you frowned, confused at the problem with that, considering it wasn’t at all illegal for kenji to have friends.

“they’re blowing it up,” he said, running a hand through his hair and messing it up again, “i...i don’t mind, but i don’t want it to hurt you, that’s all.”

you waved his concerns off, “it’s whatever, to me. as long as it doesn’t harm your reputation, i don’t really have a public image to maintain. my patients don’t care who i date or don’t date.”

date? you felt flustered the moment those words left your lips. even though the two of you had been getting closer again and flirting and doing things that one would do while dating, neither of you had clarified the boundary yet.

kenji seemed equally as flustered and didn’t address what you’d said, not wanting to embarrass you, “you’re right,” he smiled crookedly, and you returned one back despite your racing heart.

***

the moment you stepped into your mum’s house, you were bombarded.

“what’s this about you dating kenji again!” she exclaimed, shutting the door behind you and ushering you into your childhood living room, “i haven’t seen that boy in decades. and since when were you—,”

“what, mum?” you cut her off sharply, even as she shoved you into a chair and poured you hot tea, sitting down opposite you eagerly, “i’m not dating him? plus, where’d you even—,”

she shoved the article in your face before you could even finish the question, her phone screen so bright that it took your eyes a second to adjust. “mum, your phone’s so bright, it can’t be good for your eyes.”

“not important, y/n,” she snapped hurriedly, “look at it.”

blinking your eyes to focus, you finally saw the image clearly. it really did look like you were dating. the window of kenji’s porsche was wound down, and you were leant over towards him, pressed so close to him in a way you didn’t remember doing, even though you knew that you’d only been reaching over to grab the gum from his glovebox. the way he was looking at you, though—you hadn’t noticed in the moment. it was really full of adoration, eyes glittering with a love you remembered so clearly from your highschool days, and his arm was reached out around you in a way you also hadn’t noticed before.

“explain,” your mum demanded, although she didn’t seem annoyed, she seemed...quite excited, the way her eyes were suspiciously bright, “i miss seeing that lovely boy around.”

embarrassed, especially as your eyes scanned over the headline—baseball star kenji sato’s new sweetheart?!—you stuttered, “uh, i ran into him a few weeks ago and we’ve been hanging out, you know, at the clinic.”

“well, then, what are you doing in his car?” she rushed, waving her phone around again, “doesn’t look like the clinic to me. and look—,” she scrolled down a bit further to another picture, this one even more incriminating.

it was you, tucked in the audience of one of kenji’s baseball games, dressed in his team colours, cheering amongst the other vip guests sitting amongst you—friends and family of the players.

“well—,”

“i’m not hearing it,” she cut you off, a grin breaking out, “you’re bringing him over! i can’t believe it—my daughter and kenji, reunited,” she sighed happily, “i was worried you would never settle down, you know.”

flustered, you didn’t even bother to object, sagging in your seat at her insistence.

***

“y/n, i’m really sorry, i didn’t think it’d be that bad,” he said hurriedly as he followed you up the stairs to your apartment, “i’m really sorry. i’m trying to get them to take it down but you know how—,”

you whirled around as you shut the door to your apartment after letting him in, “my mum wants to see you.”

“huh?”

you sighed, switching on the lights and throwing yourself onto your couch, “she saw the article and couldn’t stop going on about how i was finally settling down and how she needed to see you again.”

he ran a hand through his hair, “you...don’t mind?”

“kenji,” you sat up straight, beckoning him over, “i don’t mind. and i wouldn’t mind...”

the silence was loud, the only sound in the room the quiet humming of your lights and the traffic outside, as he sat down beside you, sinking into the cushions.

you knew you didn’t have to finish your sentence. kenji sato knew you too well. he met your eyes and pulled you close, hugging you to his chest. you breathed in his scent—clean, and a little tinted with fish. you’d found out that he often had to go fishing—diving, more like—for emi’s dinners, and that was why he was so often around your apartment block...to fish in the river like a weirdo.

“y/n...”

you hummed, waiting for him to continue as you pressed your face into his chest.

“i really meant it when i said i missed you, back when we first saw each other again,” he began, and you smiled into his skin, “i was so lonely. drained, and it was like fate—seeing you that day saved me, i swear. you were all i could think about. i couldn’t...i couldn’t imagine never seeing you again.”

“kenji,” you murmured, leaning back to look at him earnestly, “i missed you, too.”

“what i’m trying to say is,” he swallowed, looking down before looking up to meet your gaze again, “i...i wanna date you, y/n. if you’ll have me,” suddenly shy, he flushed a bit at his own words.

you smiled at how sweet it was, how shy he seemed and also how your stomach fluttered with butterflies, “ken, of course i’ll have you. you’re all i want.”

you’d barely finished your sentence when his lips met yours in a gentle, soft kiss. you couldn’t really put it into words, how it felt to kiss kenji again after all these years. it felt like coming home. it felt like taking all the colours of the sunset and smearing it across a canvas. it felt like drinking warm milk tea. you hummed into the kiss as he deepened it, pulling you closer by the nape of your neck, and you reached up to tangle your hands in his dark locks, pulling him down towards you at the same time.

you were so close to him you could feel his heartbeat—almost hear it, and you hoped he couldn’t hear how quickly yours was racing. he tasted of caramel, and you couldn’t help but sigh as his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you onto his lap as you broke apart from the kiss, curling into him in a hug.

“y/n,” he murmured, keeping his arms wrapped around you, “i really, really missed you.”

you’d missed him too. his little habits, his dishevelled hair—fish smell, and all. you’d missed him more than anything.

finally, you’d come home.

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honeyhoshi · 6 months ago

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raise the stakes pt. 1

summary: you and soonyoung have been in each other’s orbits for years. you’ve watched him go from a grassroots player to receiving the captain’s armband—a sign of trust and acknowledging his loyalty to his team.

but he’s loyal to you too.

this a part of the man of the match universe and set in the 2022-2023 season.

genre: professional footballer (soccer) soonyoung, coach's daughter oc, (sort of) childhood friends to lovers, slight angst, smut

wordcount: 24,969, pt. 2 coming soon

pairing: soonyoung x afab!reader (named cho jiae)

warnings: oral (m & f receiving), spit kink (bec i wrote it), tit fucking, titty obsessed soonyoung, cum play, cum eating, fingering, squirting, brief embarrassment over squirting, brief impact play (soonyoung slaps her ass ONCE), unprotected sex (NOT RECOMMENDED IN REAL LIFE), creampie (again, bec i wrote it), soonyoung calls her baby, overwhelmed but HAPPY and SATISFIED tears

author's notes: i wrote this while recalling a lot of my own harrowing experiences with boys growing up and had a lot of embarrassing fun with it. i hope you all fall in love with this soonyoung the way i did.

There’s something to be said about how you’re hiding in your neighbor’s bush right now but you’re not interested in dealing with it at the moment.

You had been pulled from the comfort of your bed by the smiling, panting, hunk of hair known as your dog Ddalgi. He had been startled awake by the film you were watching and despite the ungodly hour, he had demanded to be taken out for a walk. If he had just closed his eyes and fallen back asleep, you wouldn’t be in such a predicament.

On most nights your neighborhood is dead quiet and pretty much abandoned at 1AM, everyone having retreated into the comfort of their homes. But tonight is an exception and the only other person outside makes you swear something unladylike. It’s Soonyoung.

It’s Soonyoung who had moved into the neighborhood three months ago. Soonyoung who you were able to successfully evade for all those weeks. Soonyoung who had just put a pretty lady into a taxi, his wishes of safety and to let him know when she’s made it home audible just as you rounded the corner from the Jang’s.

You try to stay as still and as quiet as you can, willing him to walk back up his stupid driveway and into his house so you and Ddalgi can make a run for it to your dog’s favorite stop just past his property. Had you been alone you’d be successful, but your Golden Retriever's bladder is ready to burst and his whines and antsy tippy tapping toes are enough to sell you out.

Then comes a call of your name, “Is that you?”

There’s no use in hiding now and you make a face before trying to compose yourself, moving behind the bush and sending a tentative wave his way.

“Evening, Hosh!” You wave from your spots.

You curse every god you can name at the top of your head because of course it had to be Soonyoung.

He waves back tentatively and turns his wrist to look at the time on his watch and you can see him furrowing his eyebrows, probably not believing the time.

Ddalgi is having none of it, by the way, and tugs at you impatiently at the sight of someone new. He’s wagging his tail ferrociously as you two make your way to Soonyoung – your dog excitedly, and you begrudging.

All questions fall from Soonyoung’s lips as he greets Ddalgi with open arms allowing your dog to lick at his face. You’ll forever remember this night as your dog getting further with your teenage crush in his two years of life than you have in all twenty eight of yours.

You start cursing gods again.

You will have to admit that the two of them are cute and you wish you could snap a picture of the sweet moment, Soonyoung’s love for animals still ever present. You have to keep the smile down when he looks up to you from where he’s kneeled down to play with Ddalgi.

Once he’s had enough of your dog’s wet, slobbery love, he gets up, dusts off the imaginary dust from his pants and looks to you expectantly. As always, Soonyoung looks fresh and young and bright. You wonder if you should shield your eyes from his natural brilliance.

Ddalgi busies himself by sniffing at Soonyoung’s bushes, no doubt ready to unleash his bladder, while you kind of sway there in your ratty sweater and sleep shorts.

“So!” You start, flashing him a cheesy smile.

“Soooo…” Soonyoung replies with a laugh, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You’re saved by the bell when you hear the telltale sound of your dog going and you can’t help but make a face, “Sorry about that, he really needed to go.”

Soonyoung himself can’t help when he lets out a laugh and you want to melt.

“It’s no bother, really–”

“Also uh, sorry about uh, you know–”

“Oh!”

You’re both cutting each other off and when you meet his eyes you both can’t help the genuine laughter that spills out of both your mouths. Ddalgi can’t help it either when he lets out a gleeful bark, wanting to join in on the fun.

When you’ve caught your breath, you can’t help that a smile stays on your face.

“What I was trying to say,” You finally get out, “is uh, sorry for walking in on you and your uhh, ya know, lady friend–”

Soonyoung tries to butt in with a “No, it really–”

You stop him with a hand on his chest and a playful, overexaggerated wink.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell dad you’re still up this late or whatever arcane rule of his you’ve broken,” with a slight tug of his leash, you start to lead Ddalgi towards the direction of your house.

Soonyoung gapes at you and you send him a thumbs up.

As you’re walking away he seems to get a hold of his bearings and yells out, disrupting the calm evening, “It wasn’t like that, I swear!”

You turn to him, walking backwards, “Don’t worry, Hosh! I can keep a secret!”

And keep this secret you will. You’d take it to the grave if you have to. Because it was mortifying.

The mere idea that Soonyoung was going to be caught in a dating scandal had been your personal nightmare for years. Harboring a crush was brutal in and of itself, but harboring a crush on a world-renowned football player who you sort of spent your childhood around and is now a professional playing under your dad’s guidance is a wholly unique experience that very few would be able to relate to.

Your history with Soonyoung started when you were twelve and realized with utmost alarm that boys can be cute.

You had grown up with an older brother and just that experience alone made you think that boys sucked. But having spent a good chunk of your after-school schedule at the HYBE training facilities meant you were always surrounded by rowdy football players (who smelled and were loud and annoying).

Soonyoung was all of those things, of course.

But he was also cute.

The realization was quite unwelcome because you liked turning your nose up at the gaggle of teenage boys who barrelled their way into your dad’s office after training, asking for photos and autographs, going on about a new play they wanted to try, and if he’d let them play forward for the next scrimmage.

Such was the life of the head coach for an Under-18 league team.

But none were as consistent as Soonyoung had been. He was in that office after every single practice; hounding your dad about how he had played, and if your dad saw how he improved, and if your dad could teach him that move from the 2005 cup final.

At first it had baffled you. Soonyoung didn’t even play under your dad's guidance. He was just as old as you were and wouldn't be part of your dad's team for another three or so years. One day you gave him a real good look and your eyes hone in on the gloves he had under his arm.

He was a goal keeper.

Playing keeper wasn't a particularly flashy position for most kids—the glamor of scoring goals was usually at the top of most's heads. Kids who were put in front of the goal usually groaned and kicked the dirt at the little ball possession they'd get, and of course, not being able to score any goals.

Even you had preferred to play, during your brief football career, what you then considered a more active position of right back.

But Soonyoung wore his keeper’s gloves like a badge of honor and looked at your dad like the second coming of Christ. Which made sense as your dad had been one of the most prolific goal keepers in the Korean league. You don’t fault Soonyoung for looking up to your dad like a hero, he was yours as well.

While most of the players leave you be to work on whatever homework you brought to kill time, Soonyoung always bade you goodbye after his little consultation session, always a little rushed and mumbling how he might miss his train back home.

Admittedly now it seems a little bare minimum but you were twelve and no other boy really paid you any mind. Soonyoung’s bright eye smile and sweaty face had been tattooed in your brain since then and you looked forward to his rushed, sweaty, and sweet goodbye almost every day.

All of this comes to mind as you faceplant onto your bed and leave Ddalgi to his own devices. Your convoluted past with Soonyoung swims before your eyes like a movie montage and you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut at your mistakes, lapses, and missed chances. You survived eight years of his professional career without the worry of a WAG coming into the picture but all of that may be at an end at 2AM on a random Sunday.

Sleep had evaded you in the early hours of the morning and what little sleep you did get was subpar.

There’s a frown on your face when you jog down the stairs, opting to join your dad in the dining room for breakfast.

“Good morning, sweet peach. There’s strawberries and croissants on the table,” your dad greets, briefly looking up from the game of Candy Crush on his iPad.

Your squinted eyes finally focus on what’s in front of you and you perk up.

“Ooh my favorite!” You press a kiss to his cheek and observe the simple breakfast spread before you.

There’s an open box of strawberries you recognize from the weekend market you visited a few weeks ago. They always run out before you’re able to wipe the sleep from your eyes to try them again.

“Where’s Ddalgi?” You say, staring at a wall, still a bit dazed as you reach for and bite into a strawberry.

“He’s outside with Soonyoung,” You stop chewing.

“Oh,” you start. Now you’re waking up, “So I guess the strawberries and the croissants are—“

“Yup, Soonyoung’s brought them over.” The way your dad says this all so casually makes you want to scream. He hasn’t even looked up from his game.

You’re still bleary-eyed, but you slide open the side door and find Soonyoung and your Golden Retriever on the patio. They turn their heads to you at the same time, both happily munching on something.

“Kwon, what are you feeding my dog?” Your heart is racing, your mind suddenly going to the possibility of Ddalgi having eaten something he isn’t allowed.

“Strawberries!” Soonyoung gleefully exclaims, raising one in the air, “I found out that they were quite good for them! Whitens their teeth and they have a really healthy enzyme or something.”

“That’s cannibalism,” you frown as Ddalgi sniffles at Soonyoung’s hand, asking to eat another of his namesake.

“But look, he likes them so much,” You can’t help but roll your eyes as you watch Ddalgi charm yet another guest.

You make soft cooing noises at your dog, but he refuses to separate himself from Soonyoung, who is happily plucking the leaves off of the strawberries, popping them into his mouth, and offering them to Ddalgi.

You frown again. Your dog wasn’t there when you woke up, meaning you were deprived of your routinary 30 minutes of giving him sleepy kisses and cuddling before mustering enough strength to get out of bed.

You sigh and drop yourself onto a sunchair, crossing your arms over your chest. You weren’t wearing a bra.

“What are you doing here Soonyoung?”

He’s trying to avoid your eyes, pretending to squint at the distance, “I was just in the neighborhood and decided to drop off some breakfast.”

“You live like 10 houses down, you’re always in the neighborhood.”

“They’re big houses,” He says in all seriousness, finally meeting your eye.

You try to hold it in, but the second he breaks out in laughter, you can’t help but join in.

When he catches his breath he says, “I just wanted to make up for last night.”

“Last night?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to say that what you saw… wasn’t what you saw,” he explains poorly.

You nod playfully, putting on a faux smirk, “What I saw doesn’t matter,” You say, “Your business is your business.”

The reality is that you want to make it your business.

Sleep had come with much difficulty the night prior, your heart reminding your head of all the silly interactions you’d had with Soonyoung growing up. You tossed and turned, thinking of how you could have used them to your advantage. To maybe charm him all those years ago. Maybe then you would have been the pretty thing on his arm during team dinners or wearing his jersey during games.

“Why were you even out that late?” Soonyoung questions, knocking you out of your reverie.

“Woke Ddalgi up while watching a movie,” you explain.

“New one for The Log?”

The Log was the unofficial horror film log you had started on your Instagram a few years back. You didn’t think anyone really paid any attention to that but some of your film buff girlfriends.

“You keep up with The Log?” You ask, genuinely surprised.

“Hell yeah,” He says, eyes lighting up, “I don’t have the time to always watch the movies but I like to know what they’re about. Vernon made us watch that one where they made that girl play Hide and Seek, at the last team dinner.”

“Ready Or Not,” you say, providing him with the title.

“Yeah, that one!”

“It’s a pretty good one. Good choice.” You nod in acknowledgement at his teammate’s superb film taste.

“So do you and Ddalgi always do that?” Soonyoung asks, circling back to the previous topic.

“What, 2AM walks? Yup.”

Soonyoung gapes at you then looks to Ddalgi as if he’d understand Soonyoung’s disbelief.

“Yeah! All the time, even!” You begin to explain, “He always has to go out once he’s woken up. It doesn’t even matter what time it is.”

You can hear your dad calling for him from inside the house, catching your attention.

“You should text me,” Soonyoung says all of a sudden.

“What?” You’re genuinely taken aback. You don’t even have his number.

“If you two are going for a walk,” He says earnestly, looking you dead in the eyes, “You should text me.”

You’re stunned speechless. Before you even muster up enough courage to say something, he stands up, gives Ddalgi a pat on the head, and goes inside.

You’re too much of a coward to do anything. Too afraid to go inside, knowing he’s in there talking with your dad. You wait until you hear him bid your dad goodbye before you and Ddalgi go back inside to eat the strawberries.

Upstairs there’s an unread message on your phone waiting to give you the surprise of your life.

Unknown Sender Today 3:49AM

Hey, I'm sorry about earlier!!! It really wasn't what you think bec That was my cousin 😩

Pls the thought of people thinking the two of us are dating makes me sickkkk

R u there

One day you’re going to get told off for just walking about the HYBE Training Center as you pleased but that day will not be today. The perks of having pretty much grown up in this building meant that you almost knew it inside out and upside down. The promotion from “A Coach’s Daughter” to “The Manager's Daughter” is a big one and one you never really thought of taking full advantage of.

As you grew a bit older you found your own interests and opted for after school extracurriculars, taking the train home with your friends, and soon, time spent walking through these halls in your school uniform dwindled down to zero.

It makes what you’re doing now a little awkward.

While you weren’t skulking around like a creep, this was far from what it used to be. You’ve completely run out of your childish charm that made being a menace around the center cute. Now you were just Mr. Cho’s temporary stay at home daughter, much too old to be bringing her old man lunch.

You remember walking next to your father, acting self important and snooty, thinking you were far better than the silly boys who spent hours kicking a ball around a pitch only to net one or two goals a game, and celebrating those goals as if they were playing in the San Siro in Italy. You were all just in Gangnam. Of course this was all to veil the poorly hidden enthusiasm you yourself had for the game. And the players. A player.

Soonyoung.

It isn’t uncommon for players to start of their careers in bottom or midrank teams, make a name for themselves, then get transferred to teams in the upper rungs. Several of the Diamonds’ players had such histories.

But not Soonyoung.

Soonyoung had grown up in these halls probably more than you did. You don’t know when exactly he joined the Diamonds but he’s one of the few players on the first team that’s been here since his grass roots days. Aside from his dedication to the sport, he was without a question, dedicated to the Diamonds.

You suppose some twenty or so years have led to this.

You’re standing in front of a wall-sized photo of this year’s squad. Soonyoung is standing proudly at the center with his arms folded over his chest and the Captain’s armband wrapped around his bicep. After the shock and upset that wracked the city upon Seungcheol’s retirement and subsequent abdication from the post of captain, Soonyoung had a heavy burden on his shoulders to get the Diamonds back in action.

It was impressive what he’s done in three years.

“You never texted me ba–”

“Oh my fucking GOD!”

You were a second away from caressing poster Soonyoung’s face on the wall when the voice of the real Soonyoung knocked you out of your reverie. You can’t see your face but you know you’re beet red and frazzled when you turn to look at Soonyoung who has a jolly smile on his face, eyes forming crescents.

He’s dressed in training gear, a simplified version of the home kit with the number 1 on the middle of the shirt. He’s slightly flushed from what may be exertion from the session, hands free of the gloves he’s usually wearing.

“You can’t just do that!” You cry, a hand on your chest to ease your rapid heartbeat.

“Sorry, peaches,” He says, the nickname making your ears perk up.

“Please, not that tiredass nickname.” You can’t help but roll your eyes.

Peaches was a family nickname that originated from way back when you were born with no hair on your head but peach fuzz. Your dad had a particular affinity for it and had used it up until now. Everyone else from his close friends to co-workers had taken to the nickname as well and it had become your unofficial Diamonds title.

Now even his players were calling you Peaches.

“It’s a cute name,” Soonyoung says.

“My dad has a penchant for nicknames, truly,” You begin, “Peaches for me, Hoshi for you.”

Hoshi, Soonyoung’s nickname, had been a moniker bestowed upon him by your father some time in the 2010s. Tiger’s gaze, it had meant. An apt description for how Soonyoung’s eyes sharpen when he’s on the pitch.

He’s become known for it, how he shifts from Soonyoung to Hoshi when the whistle blows, signaling the start of a match. You’ve fallen down a TikTok rabbit hole of these Soonyoung to Hoshi transformation compilations one too many times before. Not that that’s anyone’s business but your own.

“What’re you doing here? Haven’t seen you around here in ages,” Soonyoung says, scratching the back of his head and ruffling his hair. It’s longer than you remember it being, like he hasn’t cut it since the end of the last season.

It looks good.

You hold up the paperbag in your hand, “Wanted to surprise my dad with some lunch, but uh, I haven’t done this in a while, so I kind of forgot to check his schedule before heading over.”

Soonyoung nods in understanding.

“He’s skipping the start of morning practice for a meeting of some sort with Seungcheol. He should be back in maybe twenty for the second half,” Soonyoung explains, ”We’re starting back in a while. You should come watch while you wait.”

Watching training sessions had been a weekend pastime. Getting through morning sessions on Saturdays meant lunch out, heading to the mall, or your favorite, seeing a matinee show afterwards. You’d spent hours sitting around the pitch dedicated for the under-18 team’s coaching staff with a book in your hands (a mere prop, really), secretly eyeing the cute older boys and, when the fates would permit, the under-15 team playing on the adjacent pitch.

You can picture it in your mind’s eye – Soonyoung and Wonwoo, the two members of the Diamond’s current team who were in the same batch of grassroots players, shoving each other as they walked from the dugout to their team’s pitch. They’d offer a polite nod to your father and his staff, and a small wave to you. The memory makes you smile slightly as you nod at Soonyoung and let him lead you to the main pitch.

Throughout the years, the constant exposure to one another led you to befriend the players that stuck around. It was surface level, but the familiarity is welcome as you really take in how long its been since you’ve involved yourself with the Diamonds on a personal level. Despite the teenage angst and the mostly made up agony from those years, you hold them all in your silly little heart dearly.

You suppose its only fair that things have changed since then. When Soonyoung leads you to the main pitch, it’s far bigger than the ones he and Wonwoo used to play on, back when you’d eye them doing drills and blushing when they’d pull their shirts up to clear their eyes of sweat. Now Soonyoung strides onto the pitch with confidence that comes with years of experience and success under his belt. It looks good on him. It looks right, even.

When you turn to the spectator seats you find yourself met with familiar faces. You can't help the excitement that courses through you as pigtails and pink ribbons run towards you.

“Seunghee-ya!” You squeal as a little girl launches herself into your arms.

Seungcheol, your father’s assistant manager and an ex-captain of the Diamonds, had blessed the team with their own little princess four years ago. In no time she had taken to the attention of her uncles and their respective partners like a fish to water. She’s what you imagine you were like at four years old and stomping around the pitch in pink cleats and a mini version of the home kit on.

She peppers your face with kisses and you press a big one to her cheek in response and you carry her on your hip. You turn to Soonyoung and find him grinning at the exchange between the two of you.

You can’t help but blush before saying, “Sorry, its just been so long since I’ve gotten to babysit her.”

The smile on Soonyoung’s face just grows, “Nah, it’s fine. I get it. It’s cute. You both are.”

The flush on your cheeks feels downright painful now as you try to pretend you didn’t hear anything Soonyoung had said and instead head towards where Seunghee’s mom is seated with a few other spectators. Soonyoung just follows behind you, not saying a word.

You go up to Seunghee’s mom, Sunhee, and pass her daughter along as you exchange hellos and how are yous. When you meet her eye, she raises a well manicured eyebrow at you then quickly flicks her eyes over at Soonyoung before eyeing you again.

You make a face as if asking her to drop it, but a smile threatens her lips and you cut her off before she says something that might embarrass you further.

“I was going to bring my dad some lunch, but he wasn’t in his office and I kind of just ended up wandering around. Hoshi found me is all,” You explain.

“Sure.” Is Sunhee’s only acknowledgement before sitting back down with her daughter.

“You’ll be okay hanging out here, right?” Soonyoung says, gesturing to the seats in front of you.

“Yup, I’ll be fine. I’ve been sitting at the WAG bench forever,” You joke, before realizing how it sounded and quickly correcting yourself, “I mean, because of my mom! Like, you know, WAG for over twenty five years, and all of that haha! Not that I’ve ever been a WAG? Like imagine that, haha! I wish!”

You want to scream.

Soonyoung just nods and you bite the smile threatening your lips as sit yourself down next to Sunhee.

“That was like watching a car crash, I couldn’t look awa–”

“Stooop,” You whine, dropping your head onto her shoulder as Soonyoung walks away.

You had been sitting at the WAG bench for ages. Just like little Seunghee is right now, you had accompanied your mother to many of your dad’s training sessions and matches, both when he was an active player and then later on when he became a part of the coaching staff. It’s only really hitting you now that you were sitting at the WAG bench with no real purpose.

Sunhee and her daughter were her for Seungcheol, and up a few rows you spotted Bang Ahreum sitting in her boyfriend’s lap, giggling. If it were the weekend, and not a random Thursday, you’re sure a few more ladies would fill the seats.

“You’d make a really cute WAG,” Sunhee says with a giggle, “Soonyoung would agree.”

You can’t help the small smile of appreciation at Sunhee’s words, indulging at the little fantasy, but turning towards the slight commotion coming from the players on the pitch as they greet the newcomers of Seungcheol and your father.

You send a big wave towards your dad, catching his attention and seeing him wave and smile back and he walks to you. You fix the little snacks you’d put together in your paperbag and pull one out to hand over to Sunhee with a little wink before standing and dusting off your jeans. You greet your dad with a hug and a kiss to his cheek. He leaves training in Seungcheol’s capable hands, wanting to enjoy the surprise of having you back at HYBE like the old days.

The players all wave and bid you two goodbye when a loud, “BYE PEACHES!” comes from the chorus of Jun, Woozi, and Wonwoo by the goal at the far end of the pitch. You turn with a laugh and wave goodbye and catch Soonyoung’s eye from behind his teammates.

He sends a small wave and smile before he makes a phone with his gloved hand and brings it up to his ear, quirking his eyebrow, as if in challenge.

You shake your head and offer a little nod, hoping he sees from where he’s watching you.

“What was that about?” Your dad asks with a laugh as well.

You aren’t sure and tell him just as much.

If there was ever a time you thought your dad must’ve been clued in in your debilitating crush on Soonyoung, it was when you were sixteen and in need of a date. Being sent to a stuffy all girls school meant you had to deal with all the annoying ceremonials and traditions like classes spent on ladylike dancing and good manners in front of boys.

That was all to be put into practical use in your 10th year, where those in your year were allowed to take part in a charity dinner. It was really just some lame version of American dances that your school had pirated and you had dreaded since entering high school. While it was really a family and friends thing, people really mostly paid attention to two things: what you wore and who your date was.

Most students played it safe by bringing their parents and wearing their mom’s jewelry, but it was the perfect opportunity for the upper grades to bring their boyfriends and show off to everyone that they were so cool and mature. You want to say you’re unaffected, but upon hearing that most of your friends were brining people other than their dads, you were starting to sweat.

Despite having been around boys your whole life thanks to your dad’s work, it wasn’t like that ever took fruit in any way, shape, or form. At sixteen you had never had anyone show any interest in you aside from asking about your dad or if they could somehow get into the club through your connections.

Your dad had likely warned away any interested guys or set a rule of ‘hands off my daughter!’ from an early age. It wasn’t until recently did you find out that your suspicions were somewhat true and the team had a long standing rule that family was off limits, all thanks to Jeonghan’s girlfriend cluing you in.

In addition to that, after you’d started putting more time into your extra curriculars and found hobbies you could be passionate about. Your interest in meeting boys and finding romantic connections simply just didn’t register. At this age even Soonyoung was just sitting at the corner of your mind, your crush only making itself known if your dad mentions him in passing.

With the charity dinner coming closer and closer, you were running out of time to look for someone to take you. Your brother and any of his friends were out of the picture, all off to college and too busy to take you to what he’d deem a silly little dance. You had no cousins your age that lived around the area, so that was out of the picture. And unlike your friends, you had zero to no male friends to ring in a favor to.

The realization had dawned over you slowly and torturously–were you so undesirable that no boy would look your way if not for the man you called your dad? Was the only time you could interact with the male species through your after school drama club? It was all so mortifying.

You had explained as such to your mother as you faceplanted onto your parents’ bed, dumping onto her the woes of being a teenager and the troubles of girlhood that you were merely at the cusp of.

“You can ask your dad if he has any players who can take you,” She had suggested offhandedly.

You’d already considered that weeks prior. You knew that some of his players were already making names for themselves in the juvenile leagues and Under-18 National Team. Surely bringing one of those players would have you as the Belle of the Ball. But you quickly shut that down because the only way that would happen was if you asked your dad. That in itself was an embarrassing enough idea that you want to die just thinking about it.

With your mother bringing it up again, you can’t help but partially entertain the idea. If she brought it up, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

During dinner that evening the topic of the Charity Dinner is brought up in the middle of one of your dad’s training stories. He was going on about how close he had gotten with this crop of Under-18s, watching them grow since he became part of the club’s training staff after his retirement from professional playing.

Soonyoung in particular was growing up to be quite the goal keeper.

You tried to keep your eyes down and trained to your quickly cooling Samgyetang, avoiding either of your parents’ eyes but it was to no avail as your mom joyfully mentioned the school activity. You didn’t need a mirror to know how red your ears had gotten.

“Do you think Soonyoung would mind taking her to the Charity dinner?”

You wanted to drown yourself in the soup when you brother laughed and your dad had coughed.

“You’re thinking of asking the starting Keeper of the U-18 National Team to take this loser to her pseudo-prom?” Your brother mocked.

You sent him a scathing look as your mother said his name as a warning, “It’d be a good idea! Soonyoung’s a really good boy.”

“I–uh, I’ll check with him,” Your dad had said and that was that.

The days that followed that were torturous but you were hopeful. You couldn’t help yourself when you had daydreamed about what kind of night the Charity Dinner would be with Soonyoung on your arm, and you were unable to stop yourself from gushing to your friends about the possibility of a teenage celebrity coming as your date.

Your date.

You were over the moon with the realization that your crush was going to be escorting you to this event and that it could possibly a kicking off point for you two to get closer and maybe become something more.

papa 💛 Today 1:28PM

were you able to asksoonyoung?

I’ll ask him later.

That Monday you had texted your dad.

Training was every day except Fridays and weekends, so you had known they’d see each other.

Not wanting to sound too eager, you had dropped the subject and thought that you’d allow your dad to his task.

On Tuesday, you had heard nothing.

On Wednesday, you were going out of your mind in anticipation. More and more people were talking about the dinner and your big talk about your date had started to taste ashen in your mouth.

After school you couldn’t help yourself as you sent a “Did you ask Soonyoung yet? What did he say?” off to your dad’s number, unable to focus as you mess up the lines in a monologue you knew by heart just last week.

After rehearsals you had felt your heart lodge itself in your throat at you took in the words on your phone, trying to keep the pressure building in your temples at bay.

papa 💛 Today 2:04PM

did u ask soonyoung yet? what did he say?

I am your dad, not one of your friends. You still need to talk to me with respect.

Soonyoung has a prior commitment on that day and can’t attend the dinner.

You felt hot tears well at your eyes as you blinked rapidly to shoo them away and wiped at your face to avoid any questions from your peers.

It didn’t help that your dad had picked you up that day, the car ride tense and completely awkward for both of you, you’re sure. You had grasped at straws to make sure the topic of the dinner or of Soonyoung did not come up, your usual How did training go? out of the question. Instead you had lied about how good rehearsals had gone and how happy your moderator was with your performance.

Once you got home you had skipped dinner and cried in the shower while Taylor Swift blared from your iPod Touch.

Drama really was the perfect club for you.

With Soonyoung unavailable, you had decided to go stag—which was a perfectly acceptable decision. Still, you felt the sting of rejection as it burned deep in your heart. Your dress was gray, a perfect match for the heavy raincloud that hung over your head, you thought. And though it swayed and flounced perfectly when you twirled, you couldn’t help the dissatisfaction painted on your face.

When you had dragged yourself down the stairs, you were already bemoaning how you didn’t want to take any photos, but was surprised to see your dad standing at the foot of the stairs, fixing his cufflinks while your mom adjusted his tie. A gray that matched your dress perfectly. You took his arm proudly and smiled for all the photos your mom directed your brother to take.

That night your dad drove to your school in his flashiest car, made a jaw dropping donation, and pretended like he could dance. On his suggestion, you had left the dinner earlier and stopped by a Lotteria instead. You rested your chin on his shoulder while he ordered your usuals and you ate and laughed before heading home.

That night he had pressed a long kiss to your forehead before sending you off to bed.

Mustering enough courage to finally text Soonyoung takes about a week.

His number is saved as a conservative Kwon Soonyoung (Diamonds) as if he was a business associate you didn't want to get mixed up with your regular contacts. You stare at the conversation window for longer than than deemed normal, though. You haven’t been this nervous to message a boy since you were a freshman in university, that by the time you actually send the message, Ddlagi is whining and anxious to get going.

kwon soonyoung (diamonds) Today 2:04PM

would u happen to be awake ?

Soonyoung’s swift reply almost gives you whiplash because you hadn’t expected it to come so soon, or for it to come at all.

kwon soonyoung (diamonds) Today 11:04PM

would u happen to be awake ?

You bet I am

When you look at yourself in the mirror, you find that you're far from what you deem as “Soonyoung worthy.” But when your phone pings with another message, you find that you don’t have the luxury of time.

It also wouldn’t make any sense if Soonyoung ever caught you outside and your “just woke up like this” couture was inconsistent. Right. Baggy hoodie and pajama shorts will definitely have to do.

You’re kind of at a loss when you read the message as you clip on Ddlagi’s leash and put on a pair of outdoor shoes. Soonyoung becoming your neighbor in the year of our Lord 2023 was not something you considered, and definitely not something you thought would ever lead to tandem dog walking.

But when you open your door, it kind of takes your breath away when you see him, soft and barefaced in his own ratty hoodie and sweats combo, smiling at you from behind the garden gate. This image of him almost rewrites the last ten or so years of his semi-absence in your life, offering a chance to relive some teenage fantasies you’d set aside as impossibilities.

“Hi,” comes your small, hesitant whisper of a greeting when you’re standing face to face.

“Hi,” he replies simply, a hint of hesitation as well, but he’s smiling, still.

Ddalgi is a bundle of excitement when he sees the newest addition to your night walk and tugs at your arm impatiently, wanting to shower Soonyoung with kisses, the gate between them be damned. It makes Soonyong let out that little laugh that makes you want to die and the small smile he gives you spreads on his face wider at Ddalgi’s joy.

Your delay in texting him had come from the fear of not having anything to talk about. Despite all the years together you weren’t always actually together. You worried that the initial connection of being in your dad’s office or within the halls of HYBE has withered away any possible topic for you to broach without it being forced or awkward.

God, you always hated the talking stage. And while that’s obviously not what this is (you think), you don’t want to mess up at least being friends with Soonyoung. And you should have known that would be enough to break the tension with Soonyoung. Conversation comes easily between the two of you with him as a natural people person and you as a natural yapper.

“You managed to catch the game today?” He starts.

“I managed to catch it in my free time,” You answer coyly.

Partially true. Being in between jobs meant nearly every minute of the day was ‘free time.’

“And?” He goads.

“And what?”

“What’d you think!”

“That late game save was insane,” It seems like you’re laying it on thick but the way Soonyoung preens makes it worth it.

“Nah, it was nothi—“

“But!” You interject.

Soonyoung gives you an incredulous look, “BUT?”

“But you challenged it too late,” you start, “You could have definitely gone for the tackle while he was a ways away from the goal.”

“No way, Kang would’ve made that shot!” He argues back, he’s amused by your argument but doesn’t believe you.

“He wouldn’t have!” You laugh at how badly he isn’t taking your criticism. “Kang is a right foot kicker, he was coming at you from the far left, the angle was all wrong for him!”

“What! How can you do that?” He accuses.

“Do what?”

“Say exactly what coach did,” Soonyoung says as you two walk past the Jang’s and the bush you so unceremoniously hid behind that night.

“No way,” You say in slight disbelief, “But that just means I’m right!”

“I–” Soonyoung starts, “That’s not the point!”

“Sure it wasn’t, Captain,” You smirk and let Ddalgi drag you over to the patch of grass by Soonyoung’s own gated property.

“You should come see the game in person next time you’re free,” He suggests, shoving his hands deep into his hoodie pockets and avoiding your eyes.

His eyes look a little pink from the cold.

“I don’t know…” Just as it was with the training center, you haven’t really been as present at the Gangnam stadium as you did when you were much younger.

“Oh come on, you used to go all the time when your dad was first made manager!”

You blush at that. You try not to read into it, but there’s a little bit of a rush that comes over you at the idea of Soonyoung taking notice of you back then, even if it was some 8 years ago and you were probably a completely different person.

“I don’t know…” You say, not wanting to commit to anything, “It’s just been so long and I’m worried it’ll feel a bit awkward just popping up like I did back at HYBE.”

“No way! You’ve been Diamonds family since like, conception!” He argues.

You give him a pointed look.

“Sunhee and Seunghee come a lot, Ahreum tries to make it to just about every game too,” Soonyoung lists down faces you’re familiar with, “And I mean, you can’t beat the home crowd.”

You can’t help the smile that blooms on your face then, “That’s very true, Captain. You drive a hard bargain.”

He smirks as if to say well, what can I say!

Then he says, eyes trained to the sky, “If it means anything, I’d want you to be there too.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Yeah?” You ask and he finally looks back.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll come to the next home game.”

You’re standing by the path that leads straight to Soonyoung’s garden gate and you tut at Ddalgi to head back towards your house as he’s relieved himself while you were conversing with Soonyoung.

“I guess this is where we say goodnight?” You say, walking backward.

“What, no way,” Soonyoung says, following you, “I’ll walk you home.”

“Soonyoung, we’re literally at your house,” You deadpan.

“Yeah, so what?” He waves it off and jogs next to you and following your stride, “I want to walk you home.”

kwon soonyoung (diamonds) Today 10:42PM

Meet you at your gate

This text becomes Soonyoung’s go-to on nights and early mornings when he joins you and Ddalgi for short walks around the neighborhood. Even with the football season on going and your job hunting taking up both of your daytime schedules, you’ve found these walks to be the most sought after moments of your day.

Having these twenty or so minutes with Soonyoung almost everyday feels like some kind of silly dream come true. His presence feels less like something out of the ordinary, and you feel yourself beginning to feel less like you’re fumbling for something everytime you and your dog step out to meet him.

kwon soonyoung (diamonds) Today 9:36PM

No walk tonight?

had his monthly checkups today he's out like a light sorry 😔

Nah its cool You still down for a walk though?

bet

Without Ddalgi there to serve as the focal point of your walk, you’re left with little choice but to put all your attention on him. And for someone who's been doing that for most of their pre-teen years, as a twenty eight year old it serves as quite the struggle. Despite your newfound confidence in spending time with him here and there, somehow the air feels a little different this evening.

Soonyoung is set to take off for international duty in a few days and you’re loathe to admit that you’re a little sad that this little growing habit of late night walks was taking a little bit of a break. You’re lost in your thoughts when Soonyoung, expectedly, breaks the silence.

“I’m happy we’re becoming good friends,” He says.

A little goofy smile comes onto your face. You know it’s a little silly looking because you can feel the corners of your lips twitching as you keep your cool.

“We are friends, Soonyoung,” You say, “Unless, I’ve been reading things wrong these past like, fifteen years.”

“No, I mean real friends,” He insists with a bright smile, “Like friends who do stuff together and talk about their interests and stuff.”

He’s right. You’ve always just been in each other’s peripheries, but up until recently, you had never really had any real conversations or interactions with each other.

“We were around each other so much growing up,” He reminisces, “I remember you were always doing homework in your dad’s office or like, reading a book on the pitch. How you could focus, I have no idea. We were so fucking loud.”

You flush at the belated attention. Back then you had done your best to seem aloof and above it all, but the idea that Soonyoung had somehow still seen you is a lot to take in so many years later.

“I guess when you put it like that,” You start, “It is nice being friends with you after all these years.”

Friends is just the start of what you want with Soonyoung. But at this point you feel like it would be a disservice and dishonest to seek something more from him. You can’t imagine what his life must be like, if Soonyoung from sixteen years ago would have ever thought this would be his reality. So you ask him as much.

“Is it hard?”

“What is?” He clarifies.

“Making friends?”

He gives you a funny look, as if he’s not quite sure what you’re getting at.

“I mean as you, you know? Captain of the Cheongdam Diamonds, part of the World Cup team last year, and like, just being a professional player and all of that.”

Soonyoung hums for a bit, considering his answer, “I guess it’s easy for Hoshi.”

Now it’s your turn to give him a confused look.

“Every season we get new members on the squad and as captain, I become friends with them. Meeting new people at events or work engagements, I’m able to build good bonds and stuff like that. But I think that’s Hoshi who's good at it.”

“And Soonyoung?” You suggest.

“I think Soonyoung is a little shy,” He laughs, blowing at his hands to keep them warm. You feel your fingers twitch at your sides, wondering what his hands would feel like clasped between your own, your breath warming them up.

“Sometimes I’m still a little shocked and like, astounded that this is my life,” The two of you have gotten to his house now and he takes a moment to take the property in.

Just as many of the other houses and properties in the neighborhood, its quite a house. More modern than those on your street due to how newly developed it is. It’s definitely something he should be proud of. As the daughter of an ex-professional player, you’re aware of the economic benefits that come with the job.

And Soonyoung is very good at his job.

“Did you always know you’d make it?” You prod, joining him in marveling at his home of just four months.

He lets out a bark of a laugh, “I think I ran towards this dream like I had no other choice. I think I would have rather died than be anything other than me now.”

You turn to look at him and smile, “Well if anyone deserves it, it's you.”

“Oh come on, now you’re just laying it on thick.” He says.

“No way!” You argue, “I’ve seen every step you’ve taken to get here, Captain. You deserve it.”

“Don’t remind me, you’ve seen me through just about every goddamn phase I’ve ever been through,” He whines, rubbing at his face in embarrassment, “My academy days were brutal. Fucking Wonwoo cruised through that shit so smooth.”

You can’t help but laugh at the memory of the two of them. While Wonwoo wasn’t as permanent a fixture in your father’s office as Soonyoung was, you still saw him quite often, with him and Soonyoung stuck at the hip for years.

The left-back had always been tall and lean even as a pre-teen with black hair swooping across his forehead in what was a then-fashionable mop. There were always girls giggling in the stands talking and gushing about Wonwoo. Then you remember Soonyoung who stood next to him with his braces and choppy mullet and soft round cheeks and you can’t help but smile fondly at the days gone by.

“I think you did fine on your own.”

Soonyoung shakes his head as if there was no way you’d understand his boyhood woes, “Still, I think twelve year old me would piss himself if he ever found out we’d made it pro, we live in this house, we’re friends with you.”

Your ears perk up at that but you bite the smile threatening your lips, “Yeah, why’s that?”

“Oh come on, don’t make me say it,” He says, cheeks tinged pink.

“No! You already said it so I might as well come out with it!” You laugh.

He gapes at you for a second before shutting his mouth, shutting his eyes in embarrassment, then turning to look at you again.

“Okay, for a lot of the guys in my crop of players back then, you were kind of like the first girl we ever knew and wanted to impress, you know? It didn’t help that your dad was an actual living legend.” He says, the flush on his face seemingly contagious as you feel a warmth in your face as well.

“Shut up, now you’re just gassing me up.”

“Now you can’t take the heat?” He laughs as you two continue walking, your heart at ease as you walk past his house and not back towards your own, your walk far from over.

“Well they can all rest easy, I’m not much to fight over now,” You say lightly.

“Why not?” Soonyoung says, almost dead serious.

The atmosphere around you feels a little heavier now and you feel as though you must have said the wrong thing. You want to smack your head for feeling a bit too comfortable around Soonyoung to let the thing in the back of your mind rear its ugly head.

You always knew your self deprecation was going to kick you in the ass one day.

“It’s nothing!” You panic, “I’m just saying, I’m nothing to write home about, is all!”

“Why would you say that?” Soonyoung says, genuinely confused.

“I–it’s nothing, Soonyoung,” You fight to get out, “Can we drop it?”

Soonyoung only nods and allows you the comfort of a change in topic. He talks about their upcoming match against Croatia; how he wishes one day he’ll be able to captain at the national level, talking about how well his nickname matches the white Tiger logo of the National team.

You’re thankful he doesn’t bring anything up for the rest of the walk, but it should come as no surprise when he walks you to your gate he speaks up on it.

“If it's worth anything, I think there’s something to write home about. Tons. Paragraphs, even.” He says it lightly, jokingly even.

The smile on his face is so radiant that it tickles that little spot in your heart that triggers a smile of your own.

“Goodnight, Soonyoung.”

“Sweet dreams!” He shouts as he walks backwards, heading to his own house, as if not wanting to turn away from you until he sees you smile.

Unknown Sender Today 8:19AM

hi hi since the boys are out on international duty u wanna lunch w sunhee n meeee oh!!! this is ahreum btw 🩷 i amsked gyu to ask soonie oppa for ur number but ur meanie bf wouldnt give it to me

so i asked coach cho hihi hope u dont mind!!

save my num pls!!! 🩷🩰🫧

WE 🩷 WAGS @KFAWAGs • may 8 New photo of #BANGAHREUM from the Fred Jewelry event! #KimMingyu #K9M #CDFC

ahreum (omg) 🩷🩰🫧 Today 8:19AM

save my num pls!!! 🩷🩰🫧

ahreum hi! uhhh idk how to say this but soonyoung and i arent dating

girl what

“That makes absolutely no sense,” Ahreum says, her pretty eyelashes fluttering as she blinks at you in disbelief.

“Ahreum,” Sunhee warns as she takes a sip of her coffee.

“But the lovestagrams!” She cries out.

You don’t know what to tell her that won’t disappoint her. It’s 3PM on a Friday and you’ve spent about three hours convincing two extremely well known WAGs that you are not in fact dating Kwon Soonyoung.

Unfortunately.

Grabbing lunch with Sunhee and Ahreum is more intimidating in theory than practice. While worlds apart in their daily lives, they were probably the two most publicized WAGs of their respective generations.

Back when Seungcheol had been front and center for the Diamonds, Sunhee had been a permanent fixture at games. She was the WAG for ages with how long she and Seungcheol have been together. She was basically like a cool, funny older sister to you and much of the current squad.

Ahreum on the other hand was an enigma of her own. It should come as no surprise that the Diamonds’ flashiest player would have a girlfriend that matched him in renown. Mingyu’s girlfriend may stand at just five feet tall, but she commanded the room easily with her light presence and sometimes overly excitable energy.

Must come with the job of being a top female K-Pop idol.

It should come as no shock that after your brief exchange over text, Ahreum had insisted you change into a cute little springtime dress and took a cab to a lunch spot in Garosu-gil within the hour. She had dragged you away from the maître d’ the second you arrived to sit you down in front of her and Sunhee. She’s been trying to pull out every single sordid detail of your debilitating childhood crush on the Diamonds’ captain and keeper all afternoon.

“They aren’t lovestagrams,” You try to argue, “They’re just regular, you know, posts!”

“But they matched!” She cries out, “I was so close to turning on notifications for both of you in case you updated while I was at practice or something!”

“I guess it just happened. We went to some nice places, that's all.” You wished there was something there, but Soonyoung has had a wealth of opportunities if he was interested in you. He’s had them since you were like, twelve.

“Maybe he’s just shy,” Sunhee offers, “I saw you two at training a few weeks back. There was something there.”

“Something! Something is good,” Ahreum nods, excitedly, “I can definitely work with something!”

“Noooo,” You whine, “No working on anything!”

Ahreum flashes you an overly exaggerated frown, “Why not. You two are so cute.”

You aren’t blind to what's been happening. How you once distantly existed to Soonyoung and how rapidly that had grown into this budding friendship. And while it was fun (and at times lovely) to fantasize about what it would be like if it grew into something more, Soonyoung’s admittance that this friendship is something he appreciated keeps you grounded.

“He just doesn't like me like that,” You say, trying not to sound defeated.

“This doesn’t make sense with my fantasy.”

“I’m perfectly okay with how we are right now,” Lie. “It took years for me to befriend him like this, so I really appreciate it for what it is.” Truth.

“Years? What!” Now it was Sunhee who was shocked.

“What do you mean what!”

“Have you and Soonyoung seriously been, you know, skirting around each other for years?”

You roll your eyes playfully, “We weren’t skirting around each other, Sunhee.”

She gives you a dead serious look.

“It just–it just never happened!” You blurt out, “I had a silly little teenage crush on him and was too socially inept to do anything about it.”

Speaking it out into the world feels pathetic but it’s also been a while since you were able to let it out. You consider keeping your cards to your chest, but when you look at Sunhee and Ahreum who are both lovely and just want to chitchat, you think it shouldn’t hurt to lend your stupid teen years to today’s gossip session.

So you tell them about your disastrous attempt to have Soonyoung escort you to your Year 10 Charity Dinner and find yourself being able to smile at how melodramatic you were about it. They listen with rapt attention, coo at your antics, and can’t help the visceral melting when you retell your dad’s knight in shining armor moment.

“That shouldn’t have kept you away from Soons for so long!” Sunhee considers.

“It didn’t! Not really,” You start, “I think I kind of just had to wake up a bit after that.”

And wake up you did.

After the Charity Dinner you realized you could never show your face back at the HYBE training center, or at least in front of Soonyoung’s squad. There was no way you could sit on the pitch and be perceived by him as Coach Cho’s daughter who couldn’t get a date and had to pull strings with her dad to get one. And all things considered, even with the nepo baby connections you still showed up with your dad on your arm.

“If I’m not mistaken, Soonyoung started playing for my dad that year,” You reminisce, “I was just too embarrassed to be in front of him, you know?”

“Soonie must have hated that,” Ahreum pouts, picking at the croissant on her plate.

You doubt it, really.

“I think,” You start, “I think I never considered being friends with Soonyoung because I was so fixated on like, liking him, even if it was probably just a silly crush, you know?”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t silly. We all have crushes! It’s a teen girl thing!” Sunhee comforts.

It is a teen girl thing, you agree. But when you look at the two women in front of you, you can’t help but marvel at how they probably cruised through their teen girl crushes. Ahreum had probably just turned twenty when she and Mingyu got together while Sunhee was literally married to her teen crush, having been Seungcheol’s childhood love, their love story a favorite among Diamonds fans.

“Well, silly or not, I was sure he didn’t like me back then,” You laugh at the bitterness of years gone by suddenly making itself known, “He showed up at my school’s charity dinner the following year.”

If his rejection of your invite was the final nail on the coffin, showing up with someone else the following year buried you six feet under.

In your 11th year, you and your friends had all decided to go stag and be each other’s dates, buying matching flowers to pin to your hair and making a whole day out of getting ready together. It was such an exciting way to look at an event that was so bittersweet to you, the unnecessary burn of humiliation still there whenever you thought about the previous year’s failed attempt to get a date.

The joy lasted for maybe three hours. After all the formalities of a fancy dinner and a charity auction for the parents in attendance, the event turns into a run of the mill dance with a subpar DJ and a makeshift dance floor. You’d skipped this part the year prior and dancing like a crazy person screaming the lyrics to Best Coast’s Boyfriend to your friends was something you were looking forward to.

You don’t get to do either because first of all, you put too much trust in the DJ to play anything other than A Thousand Years and Enchanted. Second would be that, in the midst of all the people in attendance, a face you never thought you’d see in your school gym is suddenly right in front of yours.

Soonyoung was standing there in an ill fitting blue suit and his hair haphazardly gelled down and he was your every silly daydream come to life.

You remember opening your mouth to say something to him, maybe a greeting, a question on why he was there, but you quickly shut it when his attention is pulled away by an upperclassman you weren’t familiar with.

When your gazes break, the silence that seemingly engulfed you disappears and you remember where you are and the implications of Soonyoung being there.

Boys were prohibited from campus except on select days you could count on one hand. He had to be there with someone. And that someone wasn’t you.

Your hands had grown clammy at the realization and you scramble to get your bearings. When you turn around to run off to the bathroom to maybe cry in frustration, you find yourself face to face with a boy who offers you his hand and a friendly smile.

Your poor self esteem had taken such a beating from that mere shared look with Soonyoung that this hand in front of you had felt like such a kindness. So you graciously took his hand as the opening beats of Boyfriend had come on the shitty gym speakers.

kwon soonyoung (diamonds) Today 11:37PM

Heard you had lunch out with the girls

??? howd u know

Ahreum posted on her burner

SHE HAS A BURNER??? whatd she post :(( UR SUCH A GOSSIP!!

Me??? For all I know you talked shit about me with Ahreum and Sunhee all afternoon

what happens at girl lunch stays at girl lunch

That just about confirms it! You guys were talking about me!

all bad things i promise

And here i was buying your and ddlagi gifts

oh my god soonyoung u shouldnt have

Nah its cool I just saw something and picked it up

well thank u ddalgi and i eagerly await your arrival

Is this your way of saying you miss me?

i said no such thing also!! what doin

Just got back to my room from dinner Feels weird not to go on a walk right now

well rest assured ddlagi has gone on an ill timed walk already he's down

You should take his lead then Sweet dreams, peaches

goodnight soonyoung 🤍

Mingyu’s surprise birthday party was being held at this swanky private speakeasy that was a favorite of the Diamonds’ striker according to Ahreum.

Initially you had felt discomfort when you arrived. You had come down the stairs and was immediately greeted by the smiling face of Ha Yves. You didn’t know who would be considered as party guests for people as popular and famous as Ahreum and Mingyu, but you shouldn’t have been surprised if they were all celebrities or A-Listers.

The room was filled with the members of AM♡RE still scuttling around, adding finishing touches to the long table in the middle of the room. Despite the burning feeling of being out of place, you couldn’t help the smile that had spread on your face watching these celebrities put on a surprise for a friend’s birthday.

You suddenly feel unprepared for the evening, your usual extroverted flourish having diminished quite a bit lately.

The group is quick to greet you with a squeal of “Unnie!” and Choi Yena, who you’re familiar with, gives you a quick squeeze of a hug. The warm welcome eases your mind, introductions are given and you tell them you’re at their disposal with the decorating.

You quickly learn that this evening is a private affair of friends and family as more of Mingyu’s friends arrive, players from other teams that you’re familiar with, Ahreum’s brother being one of them. The implication of you being a part of that classification makes the pleasant feeling in your stomach grow, and the weight of imposition lifts from your shoulders.

You’re standing on a chair and holding up a gold foil balloon, helping Yves decide on the best placement when a bellowing “AMOOOOOOREEEE” cuts through the music playing through the speakers.

You bite your lip to stop the smile attempting to split your face in two.

Yves abandons you to go on and play the good leader and greets the members of the squad who were able to come, giving fist bumps and quick high fives. After the typical niceties, Soonyoung catches your eye, and laughs.

“What’re you doing all the way up there, Peaches?” He walks up to you, eyeing you from head to toe, and sending warmth throughout your body following the same path, “If you fall from there, you’ll be out for the rest of the season.”

The smile wins this round. You roll your eyes as he offers you a hand to help you down.

You pray your hand isn’t sweaty as you take his hand in yours, trying to step down as gracefully as you can without flashing the whole room. Your skirt much too short for standing on chairs even with the stockings you (thankfully) decided on last minute. You steady yourself with a quick grip on Soonyoung’s shoulder with your other hand.

Once you’re safely on the ground you flash him a thankful smile as you let go of his hand and shoulder.

“You good?” He asks, voice now a little quieter, only for you to hear.

You offer him a small nod, “Yeah, all good now. Better now.”

The rest of the night goes according to, if not better than, planned. Mingyu had jogged down the stairs with Ahreum and played the part of shocked boyfriend perfectly, beaming at her as she pulled the string of a party popper. He planted the biggest kiss onto her awaiting lips as you and the rest of the guests hooted at their PDA.

Mingyu flipped everyone off mid-kiss, of course.

You found yourself seated shoulder to shoulder with Soonyoung on your left and Vernon to your right, while Wonwoo sat in front of you. You’d spent the majority of the evening discussing films with the two of them while Soonyoung remarked about ones he’d yet to see, saying, “We should add that to our list.”

The list being an ever growing shared note on the Notes app on both your phones with a working list of movies you think he needs to watch.

“Dude, just get a Letterboxd account,” Vernon suggests.

“I said that too!” You laugh.

“Haha, okay laugh all you guys want,” Soonyoung says, attempting to stand up for himself, “But I just figured that shared note thing out and that works just fine for us, thank you!”

You elbow him playfully and he sticks his tongue out in retaliation.

“I’m getting another Coke, Wons you want one?” Soonyoung asks as he downs the last of his soda.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll get another later.”

He turns to you, “Another daiquiri, passenger princess?”

You flush as he pretty much announces to everyone who was paying attention that you were coming home with him. Well, technically just riding his car to his house then walking on foot to yours as has become your routine from nights out.

“No, I think I’m good for tonight.” The realization that you were going to be seated next to him on the way home quickly sobers you up. There was no way you could get sloshed now.

He nods in understanding as he undrapes his arm from around the back of your chair and gets up.

Vernon has been pulled into a conversation by the other end of the table and you find yourself sitting in comfortable silence with Wonwoo.

Soonyoung’s best friend has become a more familiar presence in your life just as much as Soonyoung himself. It’s nice, you think, getting to know the quieter half of this duo you’ve known for so long.

You learned that Wonwoo’s not really all that quiet when Soonyoung is there to prod and pick on him, and that Soonyoung is so much more easily humbled with the keeper of all his secrets present.

“You two look like a couple,” Wonwoo says after a while.

You gawk at him, unable to think of a quick enough retort.

“Just say, ‘thank you, Wonwoo’”” He says with an easy laugh, quoting himself from a few days ago.

Now you scowl, “Take that back, Wonwoo!”

“Why? It’s the truth!” He argues, “I don’t think either of you notice how close you two always are.”

“We are not!”

“You can’t tell because you’re too busy ogling my best friend. I can because you guys keep asking me to come hang out with you two so it seems like you’re not out on a date!” There’s a smile on his face and while he’s accusatory, Wonwoo seems to get some joy out of pointing out your glaringly obvious crush on Soonyoung.

“You’re delusional,” you attempt to argue and Wonwoo can only sputter at you.

“Takes one to know one?” He retaliates.

Before you can stick your tongue out at him, pulling a card from Soonyoung’s repertoire of moves, the far end of the table starts to sing Happy Birthday.

Soonyoung is precariously carrying a two tier birthday cake and a beer pint filled to the brim with ice and Coke as he yells out the words to Happy Birthday. He’s beaming as he presents the cake to Mingyu and Ahreum urges Mingyu to make a wish.

He closes his eyes quickly, makes quick work of blowing out all the candles and giving Ahreum a kiss on the cheek.

Soonyoung cheers the loudest again and almost drops the cake as he sets it down on the table. His antics makes the rest of the guests laugh but next to him Yves, playfully whacks him on the shoulder and chastises him with a litany you can’t hear from where you’re seated.

Soonyoung bats his eyes at her and pouts cutely, no doubt attempting to ease her annoyance. You feel the blood draining from cheeks as the green monster of jealousy creeps up behind you and you avert your eyes from the scene.

When you turn back to your drink, now more water than strawberry daiquiri, you catch the look on Wonwoo’s face.

There’s a devious little smirk on his silly little cat boy face and you want to slap it off of him.

“Quit it, Jeon.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Cho.”

“I mean that look on your face,” You say with an index finger wagging in front of his glasses, “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t have a look on my face,” He laughs as he sips on his glass of Coke.

“Yes, you do! It's a sneaky little face,” you pout, “Don’t you have your own love life to worry about?”

His smirk grows into a full on grin, his teeth on full display, “First of all, no I don’t. And second, so you admit it? You’re in love with Soonyoung.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears. You don’t dare to say anything out loud for fear of who might hear because you don’t know what to say.

“Wonwoo I—“

“You know, you don’t have to worry about that,” he says, “You don’t have to worry about anything. Not with Soonyoung. Never with Soonyoung.”

Not long after everyone had their fill of the cake Ahreum lovingly baked for the occasion, people started splitting off into their own little groups around the bar to talk or have more drinks. Still, you were seated next to Soonyoung, but this time making a conscious effort to keep a comfortable distance between you two. His arm may still be draped around your chair, but this time you rested your crossed arms on the table in front of you, trying your best to stay focused on the story Heejin was telling.

You almost jolt in shock at the warm hand that rests on your knee and the breath at your ear when Soonyoung whispers, “Let’s go ahead?”

When you turn to him and try not to flinch at the close proximity between the two of you.

“You look like you’re about to nod off,” he chuckles.

Humming and nodding in agreement with him, Soonyoung clears his throat and announces, “You guys keep going but we’re headed out.”

There’s a chorus of disappointed “awws” that follow as the two of you stand and Soonyoung helps you into the coat you brought for the cold. When you turn to wave goodbye to everyone still at the party, you see Wonwoo giving you a shit eating grin and you fail to stop yourself from sticking your tongue out at him one last time that night.

“D’you have fun tonight?” Soonyoung asks, eyes flicking over to you for a second before turning back to the road before you.

“Hhm, yeah. I’m glad I went,” You say, “I almost bailed for a second.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

You consider for a moment if you should tell Soonyoung about your afternoon before the party. But you worry that maybe trauma dumping on him after having had such a good evening with his friends and teammates would sour the day. So you keep your mouth shut and try to wrack your brain for an acceptable reason to turn down an invite.

“I bombed at practice today,” He says out of nowhere but lightly, with a bit of a chuckle, and you know that a corner of his lip is upturned.

The focus you put in trying not to turn your head and watch him drive is commendable. You try your utmost best not just keep your eyes on him as he does the most mundane of things.

“Got into trouble for it, your dad yelled at me and all. Said I wasn’t focused.” He clicks his tongue, shakes his head and continues telling you about his day. “It didn’t get better of course, ‘cause I started overthinking it and I got worse. But you know what?”

“What?” You ask, finally looking over at him as he pulls to a stop at a busy intersection.

The red glow of the traffic light streams in through the car’s windshield despite the heavy tint and washes Soonyoung in a moody glow, only cut by the flashing lights of the LED billboards that are so commonplace in Gangnam.

“It ended,” He says as he turns to you as well, the red light offering him a respite, “Training ended and I got in my car and drove over to that speakeasy. I celebrated my teammate’s birthday, had a bunch of laughs with my friends, and now I’m driving you home.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll go back to training and try again. And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll talk to your dad again and ask for his help. And when that ends, I’ll come home and I’ll probably ask you if you want to go for a walk.”

He ends all of that with a big, bright, beautiful smile that makes your lower lip wobble. Soonyoung is so wonderful and your heart feels so vulnerable. You’re worried that you might end up going off on a litany about how your school girl crush from nearly sixteen years ago had awoken from its dormant slumber on a chilly evening in March, and was wreaking havoc in your heart and brain as it fed on every right and perfect thing Soonyoung had said to you since then.

But you keep it in.

Instead you let out a shudder of a breath and tell Soonyoung about your day.

“I feel like I’m running out of time,” You start, “Which is stupid because I’m like, twenty eight and probably not dying soon, and I know you probably won’t get it because you’ve had a career since you were like, nineteen, and that’s why I don’t think I wanted to get into it with you but also because I don’t want you to think about how pathetic I am.”

Saying all of that in one breath almost has you panting, but more than anything, it’s that worry you’ve been trying to bury in your chest all these weeks, pretending you were above it all, that’s been weighing you down.

“You know how I’ve been trying to get a new job right?”

He makes a sound of agreement, not wanting to cut you off while you were clearly in the middle of a tirade.

“Well, I feel like I’ve been floundering, you know? I put in all these applications and I do the interviews, and I do great because I know I can turn it on when I have to but it’s just such a fucking drag!”

You know you’re whining but you’ve already started and everything is coming out like a tidal wave from your mouth.

“I’ve been at this for months and today I got an email that sounds really promising but I still haven’t really gotten hired and I feel like I’m going around in circles with these companies, trying to convince them I’m the shit but it’s not like I really care all that much about them, really.”

“I just don’t want to keep wasting my time doing nothing and being no one.”

Silence. Breathe in, breathe out.

“Then I kind of got into it with my dad this afternoon,” You finally let out, “I was… I was planning to come see you at practice today. And he kind of, I don’t know… He kind of told me I couldn’t be there. That it was private practice today and that none of the girls were going to be there either and that… that maybe I was overstaying my welcome when I had no affiliation with the Diamonds.”

Soonyoung’s gripping the steering wheel firmer, from what you can tell and you want to ease his mind, but your own was aflame with the indignation you had felt that afternoon.

“I thought about skipping on Ahreum’s invite because well, I didn’t know who would be there, but I knew Ahreum and I kind of know Mingyu, and I knew that place was going to be chock full of beautiful, famous, successful people, and I just didn’t know if I could handle that after everything, you know?”

You don’t realize that you’ve made it all the way home throughout your tiny meltdown and Soonyoung has been idling in front of your family’s garden gate for a minute or two.

“Then?” Soonyoung prompts.

“What do you mean?” You’re confused.

“Then what happened?” He clarifies.

“What do you mean ‘then what happened?’ Soonyoung you were there,” You point out with an arched brow. You’re a little peeved.

“Just play along, Peaches. Don’t be a soil sport,” He encourages.

“Fine. Then I got dressed and went straight to Mingyu’s party. I helped set up, and then you guys arrived, and we had dinner and drinks, and talked about movies, and… we got in your car, and we talked, and now you’re dropping me off at home.”

“I think our days turned out pretty okay in the end,” Soonyoung says with a gentle smile.

Oh.

soonyoung 🥅 Today 1:47PM

ddalgi misses you ig :/ come back from jeju fasterrrrr

Yes maam! And I'll make sure we win too Don't want to upset Ddalgi with a poor showing

of course he'd be so upset

This weeks feels like its going by sooooo slowly Will you be at the gala?

hate to say it but ya

I'll see you then :)

The gala Soonyoung had mentioned was the Gangnam District Arts Gala. The exclusive gala was to be televised live and the guestlist was filled with brand execs, celebrity performers, and A-List socialites.

The press release was that they were pledging obscenely large donations to uplift the arts and encourage the young, creative minds of students in schools with underdeveloped arts programs. It was a fairly new development and was something that you felt was just an excuse for rich people to dress up, drink, and bask in each other’s wealth.

Initially the idea of an entire sports team and their managers and staff being a part of such an event was uncommon. You understood if a handful of the first team was present, personalities that were instantly affiliated with big name brands like Mingyu, Minghao, Jeonghan, and even at times, Soonyoung. All the connections with the Diamonds instantly made sense when you found out the brains behind the operation.

The whole thing was planned under the watchful eye of Choi Seoah, Seungcheol’s business-mogul younger sister and Jeonghan’s girlfriend.

If you paid more attention to local entertainment news you’d be more aware of how Seoah wanted this gala to be a “family affair” and having her childhood team and Gangnam representatives, the Cheongdam Diamonds, to not only attend but also co-host the event was her goal.

You hated it as soon as you heard about it, only to somehow be roped into it last minute.

All of that led to you sitting next to your dad at the dinner table, waiting for the team to arrive from their red carpet appearance. As your dad’s (begrudging) plus one, you were free from being in front of the public eye, with the coaching staff opting to come through a different entrance. But with the first team being the event’s hosts, they were considered one of the highlights of the evening.

There was a commotion as soon as they stepped inside the venue, and rightfully so. You knew these events were always somehow about the fashion, and even you weren’t exempted from the frills and frivolities of looking good for an evening. But nothing could have prepared you for how Soonyoung would be dressed this evening.

If there was ever an expert at having their breath being taken away at the sight of Soonyoung, you would certainly be a credible candidate. Soonyoung was dressed in smart pinstripe pants and a blazer speckled with sparkling gems, but the focal point of his look had been the sheer black tank top he was wearing underneath. You had felt your throat go dry and the hairs on your arms raise when he came through the doors and the team was led to their seats.

You spend much of the night willing Soonyoung to look your way, but with him being the captain of the team meant to be the figureheads of the event, he’s got his hands full speaking to other honored guests and VIPs wanting to get a chance to meet him.

There’s a pit in your stomach where jealousy collects and starts to overflow everytime a beautiful, statuesque woman comes close to him, whispers in his ear for him to hear her better, and laughs at his jokes. You know they’re funny, and whatever joke it is, you’re sure you’ve heard it before and laughed harder.

The silliness of your mindset looms over your head like an angry cloud and you can’t help as it sours your mood even when Ahreum’s girl group comes on to perform their latest song. When it ends she forgoes sitting back with her group and you catch her slipping away with Mingyu as you had excused yourself to go to the lady’s room.

Your neck feels stiff from having to crane it to get a decent view of Soonyoung’s table the whole night but being outside of the main venue gives you a second to breathe and for you to ease your mind. When you spot a line leading out of the closest bathroom, you decide it and opt to look around the intricately designed foyer. You empty your mind as you run your gloved finger along the edge of a gilded art frame, glistening under the flickering light of a nearby decorative candle.

“I told you I’d find you,” comes a voice from behind you that spooks you so bad, you tip the decoration you were toying with off the edge of the table.

His years of practice honing his reflexes kick in and Soonyoung’s able to catch the frame before it crashes to the ground. He places it back on the table carefully, no one the wiser about its almost demise.

“What did I say about coming up behind me like that, Soonyoung!” You chastise raising a hand to slap him playfully on the chest. You stop short when your eyes catch his outfit once again and how you could see his skin so clearly even through the opaque black fabric.

Soonyoung catches your hand mid air and brings it to his lips, pressing them lightly against the silky fabric of your gloves and looks down at you, “You clean up good, peaches.”

Your skin burns so hot you feel sweat start to dot the back of your neck and you tear your hand away from him. You pretend to be unaffected, giving him a playful roll of your eyes, “You haven’t even seen the half of it yet, Kwon.”

The two of you have found yourselves in a quieter hallway, away from prying eyes and smartphones with a million megapixel cameras. It’s been about a week since you’ve seen each other and the weight of the albeit short time away from each other lifts from your mind.

“Have you been good?”

“Mmhhm,” You hum, “Better now.”

As much as you wish you could whisk him away from the party forever, you know you have to give him back to his teammates. To your surprise, Soonyoung pulls up a chair from a vacant table next to theirs and situates it right next to where he sits down.

You gawk at him for a second, unsure if you could fuck up the seating arrangement at a whim, but before he says anything, a tall elegant woman situates herself on Jeonghan’s lap and drapes a slender arm around his shoulders.

“Seoah, this is Mr. Cho’s daughter,” Jeonghan says and you straighten up with a start, offering your name and hand for his girlfriend to shake.

“Finally, we meet properly!” She says with a tinkling laugh, “Hannie’s told me all about you and Soonie. Come, sit!”

Upon her insistence you situate yourself on the chair Soonyoung had pulled up just as Ahreum and Mingyu arrive at the table, panting, and Ahreum having changed out of her performance costume into a pretty pale pink dress, her hair flowing down her back in pretty waves.

When she notices you seated at the table, she lets go of Mingyu’s hand to run over to you with a hug and a squeal of “Unnie, you’re here!”

Had Seungcheol and Sunhee been in attendance, there’s no doubt they would be seated at this table with the rest of you, and it comes to you belatedly that you were seated at the WAG table. Weeks earlier and you might have been uncomfortable at that fact, displeased with being out of place, but the longer you think about it, the more you wished that it could be the norm for you.

You’d been toying with the idea in your mind for a few days now, that maybe, just maybe, you did want to be a WAG. Maybe what’s been going on between you and Soonyoung wasn’t just a friendship that was long delayed.

Maybe, just maybe, it was okay to indulge in the prospect of Soonyoung reciprocating your feelings, and that this long standing crush was no longer unreciprocated.

The conversation between you and the rest of the table’s occupants was light and fun and with Seoah calling for more champagne every so often, you felt the tension at your shoulders melt away. Even when your father had dropped by, asking if you’d be riding back home with him, you smiled at him brightly, saying you’d find your own ride back.

You don’t miss the nod and salute Soonyoung gives him from beside you.

When you let out an unintentional yawn, the alcohol making your eyelids droop slightly, Soonyoung pushes back the sleeve of his blazer to check the time.

“We can head out if you want,” He says, “I’m sure Ddlagi’s waiting for us.”

Your heart soars at his words. You nod at him and stand as he holds his hand out to pull you up.

“Alright, that’s a wrap for the two of us,” He says, tugging off his blazer jacket, “I’ll see you guys on Monday. Ahreum, Seoah, lovely as always.”

Alarm bells are ringing and sirens are blaring in your head as Soonyoung’s bare arms come into view and you can see how the muscles of his back and stomach move beneath his skin as he waves and motions for you to follow him.

Soonyoung goes up behind you, steadying you in your heels, and places his blazer over your bare shoulders—the heat from his clothing warming you up in a split second. Ahreum’s giggle from behind you catches your attention and you manage to see her wink from the corner of your eye.

“Bye, everyone!” You greet, “Thanks for letting me crash your table.”

“Any time, lovely!” Seoah says with a flippant wave of her hand, “I’ll try to make it to lunch with you girls next time, please be there!”

“Have fun, unnie!” Ahreum calls out and you don’t know whether to smile or curse her as you and Soonyoung walk away.

“I like sitting with the WAGs,” You say kind of mindlessly as you stare out of the window, watching as Gangnam passes you and Soonyoung by.

“Yeah?” He says, encouraging you to go on.

“Yup,” You say with a pop, “It feels like I’m part of a sisterhood or something when I’m with them.”

“Yeah, they all got really close in no time, especially when Tiny came into the picture,” Soonyoung recalls, “Seoah and Sunhee are pretty much sisters now, so it was exciting for them to have someone new join in.”

“I hope they’ll welcome me as warmly,” You blurt out.

Fuck. Idiot.

There’s a beat of silence and you feel yourself floundering as if you were underwater.

“What do you mean?” Soonyoung asks, cutting into the silence.

You keep your eyes trained out of the window, willing him to let it the fuck go, but you know he won’t.

He’s about to turn to your street and you consider for a split second if it’d be feasible for you to jump out of his Maserati right this very second and hide under your sheets. Soonyoung does you a kindness by not saying anything until he pulls up in front of your house, saving you the awkwardness of having to walk home with him from his house like you usually do.

You try to quickly unbuckle your seatbelt but the second you turn your head to look for the button to press, Soonyoung gently takes your chin in between his fingers and brings your face closer to his.

In this position there’s no way for you to escape his gaze and under it you feel like you’re on fire.

“I’ll ask again,” Soonyoung starts in a whisper, as if he spoke any louder that bubble that surrounded you would pop and shatter this very moment, “What did you mean?”

This close and you can take him in, really look at him, smell him, breathe him.

“I mean,” you say slowly, gathering all the nerves you can muster, “That I want to sit on the WAG bench and cheer your name during games. I want to wear your jersey and have you dedicate saves for me.”

You gulp as you feel yourself grow in conviction, “I want to hold your trophies with you at the end of the season and bad mouth refs who give out shitty calls when you have to deal with a penalty. I want it all, Soonyoung. I want it with you.”

There it was, laid out in front of him, plain as day and no way to misinterpret. Your silly teenage fantasies had followed you into adulthood and had grown into real life yearning, hoping that the boy you had watched grow up into the most wonderful man would just take you out of your misery and say yes, that he too had felt the same tugging at his heart when he was around you.

Soonyoung’s silence was killing you as the seconds felt like hours but when his fingers twitched beneath your chin, your heart gave off a thunderous thump, and he pulled you in closer, and your eyes slipped shut.

You let out a breath through parted lips and you feel the warmth of Soonyoung’s own shaky exhale on your lower lip. Just as you feel his lip press against your own–

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

In a flash your eyes fly open and you pull yourself away from him. Soonyoung is shellshocked at the speed at which you put distance between the two of you and how you scramble to successfully free yourself from his presence.

“Wait–wait a second, listen to me!” He tries to say, but everything sounds like a garbled mess to you.

You feel like you’re underwater again, your nose flaring as you try to get as much air into your lungs. You can feel your lips turning downwards and the telltale wobble of your lower lip. The heat and sting from behind your eyes tell you that you’re seconds away from falling apart.

How stupid. How stupid to think that after all this time he would see you as anything other than his coach’s daughter. His coach’s stupid, pathetic daughter who couldn’t do anything right, couldn’t achieve anything even after all this time.

When you free yourself from the mess of the seatbelts and you’re able to wrangle the door of his car open, you stomp out, nearly tripping over yourself in your stupid heels. Soonyoung gets out as well and tries to call out to you without causing a scene.

You’re about to open the gate to your house when you realize you’re still wearing his blazer. You’ve grown comfortable in it and the warmth of him, and it's agony as you rip it off, turn around and throw it in his face.

“Go fuck yourself, Soonyoung.”

You expect your anger and grief to fuel a tirade but you find yourself moving so slowly and so cautiously around your own home. You had guided the front door shut so that only the clicking of the locks and the springs in the knob disturbed the silence. You pressed your back against the door and held your breath as you watched the shadows move on the walls as Soonyoung pulled out of your family’s driveway.

Only when you were doused in darkness could you slowly exhale.

You feel so much smaller than you are as you tiptoe up the stairs, clutching your heels to your chest, and lifting the skirt of your dress. You had felt so beautiful tonight, only to come home feeling more rotten and ugly than you ever have in your life.

When you close your bedroom door behind you, you turn to the Golden Retriever curled up by your pillows and you sniffle. Then the first tear drops when you think of how you’re supposed to let Ddlagi know that Soonyoung won’t be coming over anymore. You bury your face into Ddalgi’s coat and allow the sobs to wrack your body.

You had always thought it would be beneath you to cry over a boy.

Feeling disappointment, anger, or sadness you would understand, it would only be normal to do so. But you felt like your body was caving in on you, the embarrassment of his rejection, the idea that you had misread all the queues, that you were deluded this whole time, thinking that maybe after all these, you would finally be worth a second thought to Soonyoung.

While the thought of losing him as a lover hurt you, the idea that you may lose him as a friend forever after what you had done has you shedding more tears. You took bits and pieces of every walk you’d been on, every movie you watched, the dinners you ate, and hid them away in your heart because you had longed for Soonyoung for so long, that all these moments were truly treasured.

But you’re also angry.

You’re angry because you know there must have been something. Sunhee had seen it that day when you came to practice, Ahreum had thought you were a couple just from photos, and Wonwoo, Wonwoo had reassured you that with Soonyoung you hadn’t a thing to worry about.

Have you all misunderstood? It couldn’t have all been in your head. Some part of it must have been true, and maybe still is.

Your anger sets you into motion. Despite having been the one to walk away in anger, you feel like maybe you were entitled to an explanation. If you were going to cut Soonyoung off from your life from here on out, you wanted to do it on your own terms.

In the shower, you worry that you were speedrunning through the stages of grief. From how immensely you felt for Soonyoung and for just how long you’ve been carrying a torch for him. For the chance that he’d look your way and think of you as someone more than just your father’s daughter who had watched him from where she sat doing her homework.

You want to yell at him. You want to curse him and shove him and tell him how much you felt for him. Maybe that way he would understand how much he hurt you.

You dress quickly and haphazardly, not caring how you look, because you’ve let him see you look worse in the past weeks, grown so comfortable in his presence to truly be yourself around him. All your past actions feel like double edged swords. On one hand you were elated, so taken with how things had panned out before this evening and on the other, you felt the dread of regret, of sharing so much of yourself, and so willingly, to someone who could walk away without a second thought.

As you rush down the stairs you childishly you wonder if your father could kick him off the team for breaking your heart.

You make a conscious effort to close up after yourself quietly, guiding the door shut gently, just as you had earlier that evening. When you turn around, your heart falls to your stomach at the sight before you.

Soonyoung stands in front of your gate looking just as he did that first night he walked with you and Ddalgi. Soft, barefaced, and dressed in a ratty hoodie and sweats, you find your false bravado whittling away in his presence. His ability to render you speechless felt so unfair but you can’t help but acquiesce to it as you always do.

You loved him like this, just him, the him you had grown so used to and so comfortable around, and so in love with.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

And that’s why you don’t stop him when he unlatches the gate and walks up towards you. You don’t stop him when he goes to stand right in front of you, towering over you and bowing his head to be closer to you. You don’t stop him when he takes your face into his hands, tilting it ever so slightly so your eyes are locked. You don’t stop him when he uses his thumb to wipe away at a stray tear that betrays the strong front you wanted to put on.

You don’t stop him when he says, “I’m sorry for what I did. And I’m sorry if this is selfish, but I’ll never forgive myself if you think I don’t want you, that you don’t fill my every fucking waking moment, that I could let you walk away like you did.”

Your chin is trembling with the effort of keeping yourself together but a ragged sob escapes your mouth as you try to make sense of what Soonyoung’s saying.

The hard look of determination on his face softens at your reaction and he shushes you, tries to ease your thundering heart but how can you when he says, “I have wanted you for so long. How could you not have known?” and finally presses his lips to yours.

Soonyoung was fifteen when he got the shock of his life

He was in the middle of a scrimmage game against the other members of his squad when he caught Coach Cho Woonjae coming down from the second pitch. His hands were already sweating in his gloves but he felt flames lick at his feet, willing himself to move quicker, react faster, anything to catch the attention of the living legend that was walking his way.

They wrapped up the game with his team managing a 1-0 win, extending his scrimmage clean sheet record. He made a show of cheering his team on, clapping them on the back and showering them in praises.

Wonwoo had raised a skeptical brow at him, clearly having noticed his odd behavior.

“You’re scaring me,” Wonwoo commented as he rubbed the sweat from his eyes.

“Fuck off,” Soonyoung laughed, “Coach Cho is watching.”

Soonyoung was eager for their coach to wrap up their training, he had wanted to go up to his idol so badly, to ask him if he saw how he played, if he had improved in any way, or if he had any wisdom to impart from one goalkeeper to another.

It turned out that Soonyoung didn’t have to do anything at all. Once the final team huddle had dispersed, Coach Cho had come over to Soonyoung himself, clapping him on the back and greeting him with a “Good job today, Kwon.”

Soonyoung tried his best not to sputter, gave him a curt bow of his head and said, “Thank you so much, Coach. I learned from the best. I meant from you! Because, you know, you’re the best.”

I’m a fucking idiot, Soonyoung thought to himself.

Coach Cho could only laugh at his blunder and offered him a thanks, son, so at the very least Soonyoung could take pride in having been funny. But when his laughter died down, he had affixed Soonyoung with a look that had been, at that time, unreadable.

Then, with no preamble, Coach Cho asked him if he could take his daughter to a school dance.

When he stumbled into the locker room, the rest of his teammates were already undressing, pulling out toiletries from their lockers and a fresh change of clothes. Soonyoung was still shell shocked when he sat down next to Wonwoo, body moving on autopilot as he dodged gangly elbows and stray towels being tossed around.

“What’d Coach Cho say to you?” Wonwoo asked in a hushed voice.

“He asked me if I could take Jiae to a dance. I-if I could be her date.”

Wonwoo’s jaw had dropped comically, not having expected that.

“Well?” He had urged.

Soonyoung’s eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean well?”

“Well what did you say, dumbass?” He asked with a flick to Soonyoung’s to ear.

“I–” Soonyoung had trouble voicing it out, because now that he was repeating it, it sounded even more stupid than when he had blurted it out to Coach Cho, “I said I couldn’t.”

“What?!” Wonwoo had yelled, pulling the attention of some of the players sitting by them.

“I can’t go that day,” Soonyoung had tried to reason out, but the more he thought about it, the more he regretted saying no so quickly.

“What could you possibly be doing that is somehow more important than taking Coach Cho’s daughter to a dance?”

Soonyoung drops his head into his hands, groaning out an answer.

“What was that?” Wonwoo taunted.

“I said, I’m getting my braces out.”

Word of Coach Cho’s request had spread amongst the Under-18 and Under-15 team like wildfire and Soonyoung had never felt so embarrassed in his life. Not because it was embarrassing to have been asked, but because he had said no.

But for many of those he had called teammates, it had become a running joke that maybe they too would be tapped to take you to this school dance, and it made Soonyoung’s blood boil at how crass the thoughts of some of his teammates were.

“I still can’t believe you said no,” Youngho had said to Soonyoung when he had dropped his backpack onto the bench in front of his locker.

Soonyoung’s shoulders were heavy with the fatigue from his commute from school and this was the last thing he wanted to deal with. He wanted to run a few laps, do a few drills, then pummel whoever his team was playing against during the scrimmage to the ground.

His teammate’s thoughts and comments were far from what he wanted to deal with that day.

Wonwoo had given him a warning look, to just ignore it and move on, and against his usual instinct, Soonyoung followed his best friend’s advice.

“Dude, imagine if you had said yes and like, impressed her or whatever.” Youngho had started up again, “You’d probably make it all the way to the first team on Cho’s good graces alone.”

But there was only so much that Soonyoung could stomach.

“Anyway, I’m sure Cho’ll ask someone else after practice tonight,” Youngho continued, “She must really want to fuck a footballer or something.”

He doesn’t think he’d ever moved so fast in his life, but within seconds Soonyoung had Youngho up against a locker, his body hit the metal and alerted everyone in the room that a fight was about to break out.

Soonyoung had no intention of actually hurting anyone, it wasn’t in his nature, but his blood had boiled at how something so innocent as an invite to a dance was suddenly being used to dirty your name without you even knowing.

“You’re disgusting,” Soonyoung had said through gritted teeth, “Even if that was the case, I’m sure she wouldn’t stoop as low as you.”

Even as one of the tallest players on the team, that day Youngho looked small under the fire of Soonyoung’s rage.

Shortly after the confrontation in the lockers and both Soonyoung and Youngho’s one week suspension from training, any talk of dances and daughters had died down just as all topics of locker room discussion did.

But it lived in Soonyoung’s brain incessantly.

From the moment Coach Cho had asked him, he had rewinded back to every single memory of you he could recall. Soonyoung had considered you a permanent fixture at the HYBE training center. He could recall that very first time he came into Coach Cho’s office after training, and you were seated by the coffee table with your nose in something or another.

Back then you had been so intimidating and snooty that he never dared to talk to you even as he waited for his turn to talk to your dad.

As he grew more comfortable in his place at the training center, no longer gobsmacked at every shiny trophy or starstruck at every first team player that passed him in the hallways, you had started to look more warm towards him too. He was proud to have gotten a smile at the very least, when he would wave to you goodbye.

The years that followed were spent relentlessly chasing his dream, spending every minute that he could to prove his mettle at his sport, and that left him with very little time for anything else.

It wasn’t that Soonyoung never had anyone catch his eye, he just never really did anything about it. Well, that and no one had ever expressed any interest in him. He tries not to focus on that, despite how he enjoys the spoils of the wars waged between the girls vying for Wonwoo’s affections. He never longed for that kind of attention.

But when he received it from you, despite how it was through that awkward conversation of an invite from your father, he considered it, even if it was just for a smidge of a second.

The smidge of a second grew into minutes, then hours, then days. When Soonyoung found himself wondering why you hadn’t visited the training center in weeks, he started to worry.

“What if she thinks I don’t like her?” Soonyoung said to Wonwoo.

“What are you talking about?” Wonwoo asked as he strapped his shin guards on.

“Jiae,” Soonyoung whispered, “What if she thinks I don’t like her.”

Wonwoo could only snort, “You bet she thinks you don’t like her, you said no to her dad.”

Soonyoung groaned as he hit himself in the face with his gloves.

“Why does it matter,” Wonwoo pushed, “You like her?”

Soonyoung could only blush.

“Soonyoung, please don’t tell me you have a crush on your idol’s daughter?”

The silence was deafening.

Soonyoung keeps his crush on you like a dirty secret.

It was probably the world’s worst kept dirty secret, but nevertheless, Soonyoung persisted.

After having blown the chance to take you to a school dance with the blessing of your father, he had been hoping to get the chance to make it up to you. He just wanted to know, did you like him like that? Why hadn’t anyone else on the squad gotten asked to take you to the dance but him? Why him?

Your presence at the training center had gone from few and far in between to once in a blue moon. And as much as Soonyoung hated to say it, it made him sad. He doesn’t want to assume that it was because of him, but just not being able to see you at all for weeks and eventually months at a time was a departure from what he was so used to.

Sometimes he went into Coach Cho’s office just in the hopes that he'd see you seated by the coffee table, reading a book, and he could just wave hi.

After about a year of your scarce training visits, Soonyoung realizes he may have underestimated his crush on you. While there was little he could actually do in between school, training, and hagwon, that didn’t stop him from silly little daydreams and fantasies of seeing you in the stands at one of their official league matches.

That year Soonyoung and Wonwoo had officially joined the U-18 team that Coach Cho personally handled and it was the start of the most grueling period of football growth of Soonyoung’s life. With a defensive expert leading the team, there were suddenly more eyes on him, greater expectations, and the added pressure of playing in front of his hero almost every single day.

There were many nights that Soonyoung thought training would end on a much lighter note if you were watching.

The first time Soonyoung saw you in months was on a random Wednesday evening when he was on clean up duty. He was trailing behind the rest of the guys, wheeling the cart of training balls to the correct storage rooms when he saw you leaning against the wall by your father’s office.

He doesn’t know if you had seen him, but he ducked into the storage room regardless, self conscious of how he looked post-training with grass stains on his white kit and his hair stuck haphazardly to his face.

From where he was hiding he simply appreciated seeing you in the flesh again after so long. He tried to make a mental tally of things that may have changed since he last saw you, maybe your hair was a little longer, or your lips were colored a different shade by a new lip gloss. Soonyong didn’t know, he was always bad at those things, all he knew at that time was that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen and that he had missed you.

Wonwoo thought it was a horrible idea. And in hindsight, he was right—but hindsight was always 20/20 and Soonyoung believed back then that Wonwoo was almost laughably blind. So, being Soonyoung, he had ignored his best friend’s wise words and jumped head straight into his plan.

The plan being to surprise you and woo you at your school dance. Soonyoung had thanked his lucky stars when his cousin had mentioned it off hand that she was going to dress shopping for a school event that was coming up. Soonyoung usually tuned this kind of talk out when he spent weekends with his extended family, but the mention of a school dance had perked up his ears and suddenly he was begging on his hands and knees for his cousin to take him as her designated plus one.

Very rarely did Soonyoung use his placement in the Cheongdam Diamonds’ U-18 team as leverage, but even his cousin couldn’t deny how impressive it would look to take him to the dance.

What he didn’t expect was having to fend off everyone that assumed he was dating his snooty older cousin.

He didn’t expect coming face to face with you before he was ready to sweep you off of your feet.

He didn’t expect that you’d turn your back at him instantly, and take another boy’s hand in your own.

He didn’t expect how badly it would hurt to have been rejected without even getting to say a word.

He tried. He tried to keep away, to be satisfied having that brief teenage crush on you. He had fallen into bed with the most beautiful models and some of the most promising rising actresses, but found himself going home thinking about that seventeen year old girl who had turned away from him and danced with another boy.

Soonyoung supposes, after a while, that maybe he doesn’t deserve you. He was a far cry from what your father was at his age and having been raised in the game, the lifestyle that he now had, it was possible that you would be far from impressed.

On particularly bad nights, Soonyoung thinks of the worst: that maybe you despised him and what he stood for as a professional athlete. Maybe you had sworn to absolutely never be with an athlete, that they were all good for nothing playboys and tricksters. On those nights Soonyoung tried to think of the positive: You’d probably never date any of his teammates.

The spark that set off a wildfire in his heart that night he came across you and Ddalgi had been warming his body for weeks. He’s never felt as weightless in his life as when he had managed to place himself in your life after so many years. He tried to stay satisfied, happy to be your friend and to stay by your side in any way, shape, or form you preferred.

But it was so difficult.

Every time he got close to you, he could feel the way his heart thumped louder, faster, telling him that you were here, just out of reach, but if he just put out his hand and took your own, then maybe you could calm it, satisfy it.

But Soonyoung’s made nearly a million and one mistakes when it came to you. And this evening was the worst. Despite his best efforts, he almost always seemed to fuck it up with you, and he couldn’t believe he had managed to hurt you to the point of tears.

He’d spend every second, minute, hour of every day making it up to you if he could, to lavish you in words that would put your mind at ease, make your heart race, and set your skin aflame.

Soonyoung’s made nearly a million and one mistakes when it came to you, but pressing his lips to your throat, and holding you down onto his bed to hear you sigh out his name, would not be one of them.

This evening felt like a dream, Soonyoung thought. In his rational mind there was no way any of it could have happened outside of his imagination. From the second he had pressed his lips to yours, he thought that he was on borrowed time, that just as easily as he had gotten you, you could slip away, change your mind, turn him away.

But when you had pulled away from him and your eyes had met for the first time since the revelation that there were so many years of yearning between you both, your gaze had set his blood aflame.

There was no other way about it. He had to have you.

It was a bold move to take your hand, something he had been longing to do for ages, and tug you towards the direction of his own house. It seemed awfully presumptuous but the way you gripped onto his arm, wrapping your fingers around his bicep and nodded in agreement was all the confirmation he needed.

While your first kiss was wistful, misty, and so long delayed, Soonyoung had made sure that the following kiss was the exact opposite. The second he had closed the door behind the two of you, he had pressed you against it, held the back of your head, tilted it backward just slightly and kissed you breathless. When you had groaned into the kiss, Soonyoung had taken the opportunity to lick into your mouth, his tongue a welcome intrusion in your own. Soonyoung’s head was spinning as he let out a breathy moan of his own.

You tasted of toothpaste and smelled of coconut conditioner, your hair still slightly damp and cold from your recent shower and Soonyoung wanted to be wrapped in it, in all of you.

At the very back of Soonyoung’s brain he wondered if he was being too eager, if it was so fucking uncool for him to want you so badly. But this evening was no longer about rationality. It was about finally giving in, it was finally time for you to both let out the breaths you’d been holding in for far too long.

Soonyoung wanted you to know that he was here and he would be here for as long as you wanted him. If that meant until next week, two years from now, forever, or even if just for tonight, he would gladly accept it.

“More, Soonyoung,” You had whispered in between small, softer kisses, and stuck out your lower lip in a pout. He couldn’t resist you.

He had playfully bit on the fullness of your lip, licked at it with his tongue, then brought it into his mouth to suck. He watched as your eyelids fluttered shut and you wrapped your arms around his head, elbows hooked over his shoulders. It was easy work for him to lift you up by your thighs and carry you up the stairs.

You asked for more so more you would get. Every kiss that followed felt bruising, when Soonyoung felt that you were short of breath, he’d pull away just to press his lips to your pulse instead, and when that wasn’t enough, he licked a hot strip onto your pulse and pressed the softest of bites, eliciting a broken moan from your lips.

He wanted to be everywhere, touch everything, hear every desperate gasp, swallow every hungry groan.

Hungry. That’s what you were.

And that’s what he’s always been.

The heat coursing through his body is almost too much for him to take, so Soonyoung quickly pulls away from you with a displeased sigh. He grabs at the bottom of his hoodie to pull it up and over his head before diving back in to press his lips to yours. He refuses to have his mouth parted from yours for too long now that he finally knows what you taste like.

His fingers itch to feel your skin and while your thighs had been soft, smooth, and pliant in his hands when he carried you up to his room, he needed more. He needed to know how your skin would feel pressed against his own, how your thighs would feel wrapped around his waist.

You must want the same thing because you follow his lead and pull your own hoodie up and off.

In the locker rooms, there are plenty of mindless and stupid questions thrown about. It wasn’t too long ago that the conversation of “ass or tits” was brought up. It was met with loud jeering and playfully scandalized hooting.

Soonyoung had very cheekily said, “Her heart” and was met with boos and fuck yous from his teammates. If you asked him again today, he’d finally have a proper answer.

“You’re not in a bra,” Soonyoung says in a whisper, eyes zoning onto your chest.

“I’m undressing for you, Soonyoung. That’s kind of the point.”

“I-i-yeah, I get that but. That whole time? You weren’t in a bra?”

“Well, yeah,” you start leaning back on your elbows, “I was planning on going to bed straight after yelling at you, but… well, here we are.”

His mind goes back to all those weeks prior to tonight when he had greeted you at your front gate and you were wearing this exact same outfit.

When his eyes meet yours it seems you’ve come to the same realization as him.

“Do you like them, Soonyoung?” You ask, one hand coming to grasp at the fullness of your left breast and barely fitting in your palm, and the other hand traces your right nipple with a finger slowly; teasing.

“Fuck yes,” He says, unable to hold it in, “Were you walking around me these last few weeks without a bra on? Tits just out of my reach?”

The fake coy look on your face makes him so painfully hard but he tries to play it cool, “Yes, captain. Won’t you like to give them a touch?”

He shakes his head no, and you’re almost confused until he says, “Let me have a taste of you, baby.”

Baby.

Soonyoung’s pulling all these moves he’s been too terrified to try, despite all the times he’s been openly flirtatious and he’s tried to push the boundaries between friendship and that something more.

But he’s always wanted to try and call you baby.

He doesn’t see what your reaction is like because just as he says it, he leans down to lick a broad stripe onto your breast and captures your right nipple between his teeth, the tip of his tongue playing with the stiffening bud.

The sigh you let out fills his head and it’s then that Soonyoung decides that he wants to draw every possible sound of pleasure he can from your mouth. Soonyoung knows he’s loud, mouthy, and just short of talkative in bed, but he wants to know how loud you can get, if he can have you screaming his name too.

He’s determined to make every second from here on out as pleasurable as he can but he’s been painfully hard since he had you pressed up against his front door. In an attempt to get you as riled up as he can, he switches his hand and mouth, making sure to lavish both of your breasts in licks and kisses, litter them with small nips and love bites, fit them in his hands almost painfully, so the memory of his hands on you sticks.

Soonyoung could spend hours praising your chest, but your litany of his name, growing breathless by the second, and the way you’re undulating your hips, trying your best to get some kind of relief finally pulls him away from where he’s be stuck in his own heady cloud of lust.

“Soonyoung, I want to make you feel good,” is what you say when he pulls away from your chest with an obscene pop, moving to press kisses on the valley between your breasts.

You almost make his brain go offline when you grab him by the long, scruffy locks of hair by his nape to lock eyes with him.

You are a vision.

The heady look in your eyes and the way you bite on your plush lower lip is just so much to Soonyoung. Its enough of a distraction that he lets you maneuver him any which way you want and he settles comfortably on his back and against the plush pillows at the head of his bed.

You stand on your knees between his legs and make quick work of untying the drawstrings of his sweats and his hands instantly fly down to yours to help you pull them off along with his underwear. He kicks them to the floor unceremoniously and you push his shoulder back lightly to have him fall back to his pillows.

“Oh fuck!” is all he can comprehend to say when you drag your tongue from his balls to the tip of his cock, swiping at the precum that’s started to leak from his slit. Without giving him a second to recover from your initial onslaught, you sink your mouth onto his cock, holding his hip down with a firm hand to support yourself as you give way in your throat for him to slip all the way in.

Soonyoung tries to keep himself from slipping into his baser instincts, to cant his hips upward and have your nose press against his abdomen, fucking himself into your mouth. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding through his nose just as you groan around him, eyes slipping shut, and your throat clenching around the head of his cock.

Your mouth was so fucking warm and wet and your throat so tight he wonders if he’ll make it out alive from this blowjob to fuck your pussy.

You pull off him with a slight gag and a cough, but you deal with it like champ and slip your mouth over him again, this time your mouth in a perfect ‘O’ to suck on him quickly, your head bobbing and your spit spilling onto the sides of your lips and down the length of him.

The sounds are filthy and the gasp that you let out when you pull off of him to sit up slightly straighter could make a lesser man cum untouched.

Your fingers are wrapped around him by his base, staving off his impending orgasm, when you decide to blow Soonyoung’s mind again. You press your puckered lips against the side of his cock, dragging them from top to bottom repeatedly.

When you’ve gotten him sufficiently wet with your spit, you suck on the tip of him again, collecting his precum only to pull off slightly. You lock eyes with him, part your lips, and let your tongue loll out to let a filthy mix of his precum and your spit dribble out of your mouth and onto his cock.

“You’re fucking insane,” Soonyoung breathes out with an upturned mouth.

You pump his cock once, twice, before saying, “We’re just getting started, Captain.”

He can only groan happily and let his head fall to his pillows. He’s going to have to unpack how that title coming from your mouth has him close to orgasming.

Soonyoung keeps getting surprised by the little tricks you’re pulling from thin air, but this definitely takes the top spot.

Once you’ve deemed him sufficiently wet, lubricated by your spit and his precum, you start to crawl back up his body while pressing kisses onto the prominent veins on his lower stomach. In no time he can feel himself pressing against your chest, and it becomes clear what you’re about to do.

“You’re going to let me fuck your tits?”

The smirk that spreads across your lips has him shaking his head in amusement, “You seemed to be quite taken by them.”

You were a fucking dream come true.

If Soonyoung is only ever going to have you tonight, he needs to make the most out of it. He takes the reins and switches your positions smoothly so you’re on your back in the middle of his humongous bed. He cages your body between his legs and lets his cock settle between your breasts.

You move your hands down to grasp at the sides of each breast when Soonyoung swats one away and takes another into his, pressing your fingers to his lips for a quick kiss then says, “Hands off, baby.”

He grasps a breast in each hand and squeezes, plays with each nipple with his thumbs before pressing them together to create a tight, wet heat to fuck into. Your skin is so soft and pliant as he continues to push his cock between your tits that it's starting to mess with his head.

As much as people want to put him onto a pedestal for his footballing accolades and successes, at the end of the day he’s just a guy who’s finally in bed with the girl he’s had a crush on for ages. The fucked out look on your face just from pleasuring him with your mouth and tits has him biting his tongue to keep from cumming.

Each thrust of his hips has Soonyoung closer and closer to the edge. He wants to make this last as long as he can but it never crossed his mind how you’d be able to play him like an instrument, know which strings to pluck, chords to play, to pull the most pleasure from him.

“Fuck, I want to cum on your tits,” He breathes out with a laugh. He’s done a lot of growing up, but Soonyoung feels like a teenager as he confesses this to you, “You’ll let me cum on your tits right, baby?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out with a dumb nod of your head, “Cum on my tits, Soonyoung. Make them yours, yeah?”

Soonyoung’s always liked to fuck messy. Plenty sweat, spit, squirt, and cum is par the course when he fucked, but that was mostly for his enjoyment. When you agree to let him spill over you, to cast the assumption of ownership of your body, Soonyoung thinks you’re made for him.

After one, two, three thrusts between your breasts, Soonyoung pulls back, and grasps his cock to jerk himself off to completion, hot spurts of his sticky white cum falling onto your breasts.

You must truly be made for him because as he tries to catch his breath, kneeling over you still and pumping his cock to get hard again, you trace your fingers over your chest to collect his cum. You catch his eye as you bring your sticky fingers to your mouth and suck them clean.

You groan around two fingers and Soonyoung lets out a dark chuckle as you stick out your tongue to show him how you’ve swallowed his spend. He does the same, swiping his fingers through the mess on your tits and shoving three fingers into your awaiting mouth. Your tongue presses against them and you go to suck each one, your tongue dancing between them, not letting a single drop of him go to waste.

He can’t help it, he has to kiss you.

And Soonyoung is a master kisser.

Each time he pressed his mouth to yours, you felt your head go blurry around the edges and every thought that isn’t him simply fades away. The taste of him was addicting and the slip of his tongue against yours had you gushing despite his hands holding you by the back of the head innocently. But you didn’t want innocent, you wanted desperate, you wanted depraved, you wanted disgusting, if he would give it to you.

It doesn’t take long for him to move down your body, paying copious amounts of attention to your sensitive nipples and marked up tits, and eventually pulling down your sleep shorts.

If it was anyone else, it would be embarrassing how wet you’d gotten, but this is Soonyoung. This is Soonyoung who you’d wanted for so long, Soonyoung who had felt the same and just as strongly, Soonyoung whose touch could set you ablaze and whose one word could give you release.

You want him to know. You want him to see and taste just how riled up he’s gotten you, that maybe from this day forward, only he could press his mouth between your thighs, only his tongue could press into your hole, only his lips could wrap around your clit to make you cry out for God.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” He breathed, pressing kisses to the mound of your pubic bone, “I knew you’d taste so good.”

Just his praise has you keening, eyes slipping shut as you feel him spread your legs. He uses his fingers to part your folds and that action is enough to have you clenching around nothing, wanting so badly to be filled, with his tongue, fingers, cock, anything just as long as he could grant you some relief.

“Soonyoung, please,” You manage to whisper.

“Please what?” comes his voice, it’s almost playful, and maybe you want to kick him, but it’s so fucking hot you can feel how badly it gets to you, a sudden wave of arousal making itself known as it starts to trickle out of you.

You let out a frustrated groan, canting your hips upward uselessly as Soonyoung uses his strength to keep you in position. He moves to spread you even further with one leg hoisted over his shoulder and the other pressed flat against the bed. There was no hiding in this position, you were displayed for him, ready and open for whatever it was he wanted to do to you.

“Here’s what I’ll do,” He says, placing kisses onto your knee, moving down to your thigh slowly, “I want to taste this delicious pussy some more, get you all nice and wet, hmm? Then I want to fuck you open with my fingers.”

You nod stupidly as he speaks and you think that you may just agree to anything he says, happy to take anything he wants to give you.

“Will one be enough?” He teases, running one finger along one of your lower lips.

You open your eyes to communicate what your mouth can’t, rendered speechless by his tone of voice alone.

“No? How about two then?” Another finger joins the onslaught in framing your hole but his touch is feather-light and offers no relief whatsoever.

“Soonyoung,” is the only thing you can get out and it comes out as more of a whine.

“Fine, seems like my girl can take three then? How greedy.”

You bite your lip and nod before saying, “I can take four, Soonyoung. You’ll give me four, right?”

There’s a mean glint in his eye as he says, “You’re perfect.”

Soonyoung eats pussy like he kisses. It’s messy and it’s deep and you’ve never had it this good. He fucks his tongue into your hole with no hesitation, licking deep and lapping at your folds like you’re the best damn thing he’s ever tasted. When he pulls away it’s only so he can move to sucking on your clit. After having teased you with his fingers earlier, it’s like he’s decided fuck that and just thought to ruin you with as much pleasure as he could pull from your body.

Moans and whimpers pour out of your mouth freely. The knowledge that there are no nosey neighbors to disturb means you can be as loud as you want. You want Soonyoung to know how well he’s pleasuring you, that he can pull these ragged breaths and pleasured sighs from you so easily just because it’s him.

When you feel the prod of two fingers at your entrance you bite your lip but a scream breaks through when you feel a third finger push into you as well. Soonyoung had gotten you so wet and prepared for him with his mouth and his tongue that you welcomed the stretch. It was incredible how each of his touches could make you feel this good.

With his fingers inside of you pumping steadily, he peppered your thighs with kisses, moving upwards towards your clit. He flattens his tongue against it and shakes his head to heighten the sensation. On instinct you want to shut your legs closed but he still has you spread open for him and the position has you twitching as you feel yourself about to cum.

“You’ll give me everything, won’t you?” He says, finally pulling away from your clit, “I want to see how hard you can cum.”

Soonyoung sits back onto his knees so he can watch when he pushes four of his fingers into you. Four fingers is a tight fit but you take it like a champ, enjoying how he stretches you open. You watch him watching you and the look of determination and the way his chest heaves has you impossibly turned on. You never thought you’d be in this position, but he is every lonely night fantasy come to life and more.

He is everything.

You enjoy how his arms look, one wrapped around your thigh to hold you open and the other flexing as he pushes his fingers into you repeatedly, gaining speed as the seconds pass. You clench around his fingers as the heat envelopes you and you feel the pressure slowly take over.

“Soonyoung,” You start as a warning, “Soonyoung, I’m gonna–I’m gonna cum!”

He says nothing but instead hastens his actions, plunging his fingers even deeper, hooking his fingers just right to press into that spot inside you that’ll have you exploding in no time.

Your own fingers scramble on his bedsheets, looking for something to keep you anchored as your hips start to buck and you can feel yourself dripping around his fingers inside you.

“Soonyoung, please please, I’m serious. I can’t hold it in,” You cry out.

“I know baby,” He says with a smirk, “Give it to me. I want it.”

It’s like he flipped a switch inside of you and in the same moment he demands you to come, that thread in your stomach snaps and you gush all over his hand and forearm. Tears slip from your eyes in relief but also shame at the mess you made of yourself, his arm, and the bed.

He pulls his fingers out of you gently and you jerk in his hold, the sensitivity starting from your cunt and spreading to your arms and legs. You let Soonyoung rearrange you on his bed but the heat simmering beneath your skin continues to fuel your lust-addled brain.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Soonyoung says, pressing kisses onto your stomach, onto your left breast, then the right, and taking your nipple between his teeth with a gentle tug, “I’ve never had anyone cum as beautiful as you.”

You hate the idea of Soonyoung being with someone that isn’t you. It’s stupid and immature but his confession earlier sets you at ease. Just as you had been with others with the assumption that being with Soonyoung was a far and unreachable dream, he too might feel the same pang of jealousy.

That jealousy rears its ugly head even now. But this time you can do something about it.

You confirm your suspicions about how much he enjoys when you thread your fingers into his hair, so you tug at his locks to bring his mouth to yours. When he licks into your mouth you think that you can taste yourself on his lips and you can’t help but press your lips to his even more.

“That was so fucking embarrassing, Soonyoung,” You sigh out when you manage to get your breathing somewhat back to normal.

Soonyoung refuses to part from you, lips sucking a bruise high on your neck, a love bite that you know will be hard to hide.

“Don’t fucking say that again,” He says between licks, sucks, and kisses, “I want to make all your orgasms that insane. Hottest woman I’ve ever been with, I’ll ever be with.”

You want to roll your eyes at him. It’s an exaggeration if not an outright bold faced lie. But you can’t help but think about it as well. You doubt anyone will ever come close to how Soonyoung has made you feel in the last few hours. The rage, the sadness, the confusion, the joy, the elation, and the euphoria–all of that had stemmed from how much you’ve longed and loved him. You fear you will never feel as strongly for anyone ever again.

You want him so much.

You want him so much that despite how sensitive you still feel, you had to have more of him.

So you push him onto his back and straddle his hips. Your center is still wet, stretched out so nicely by his fingers, and when you lower yourself to glide over his cock, you can feel how he’s recovered, already hard.

He sits up to catch your lips in a heated kiss, riling you both up as you cover him with your wetness, “I have condoms in the drawer,” He whispers when he pulls away from you by just a fraction.

“Don’t be stupid,” You say as you grind down on him, “I wouldn’t fuck you if I wasn’t clean.”

“And I know you’d be off the squad if you didn’t pass your monthlies,” You continue, now gripping him by the base of his cock.

“And I’m on the pill,” You say with a slight falter in your bravado as the head of his cock catches at your entrance, “So don’t you want to fuck me raw?”

You should have known not to challenge Soonyoung because there was never a challenge he stood down from. He pushes into you at the same time you begin to sink down on him and it causes him to slip all the way in, his cock filling you completely and the stretch leaving you speechless.

The feeling of his cock driving into you at once has the hair all over your body standing and you feel the electric shock of pleasure racing up your spine to the very top of your head.

The noise you let out is nearly demonic.

Despite the position, there’s no mistaking who is calling the shots. Just his first thrust into you had your brain turning into mush, so when Soonyoung continued to fuck up into the heat of your cunt, you had grown useless on top of him. There was no way to decipher the nonsense you were spewing, just that they were surely words of praise for how thoroughly Soonyoung was fucking you.

It should have come as no surprise that fucking a footballer meant that your stamina would be put to the test. But still, you’re wholly unprepared for how long and how hard Soonyoung could go when it came to fucking. When you had fallen into his arms, unable to hold yourself up as he fucked into you from below, he had pushed you onto your back to fuck you while he had both of your legs over one shoulder.

By then he could match you with how he could hardly keep himself shut, groaning out praises about how tight you were around him with your legs pressed together.

“On your hands and knees, baby,” He instructs as he pulls out and lets your legs fall to the bed, you don’t miss how breathless he’s beginning to sound and you revel in how wreaked you’ve gotten him as well.

You quickly position yourself as he has requested but take it further by pressing your chest onto the bed, arching your back and folding your arms behind you. In a brief moment of tenderness, Soonyoung takes one of your hands in his and intertwines your fingers.

Of course he matches it with filth when he spanks your backside then grabs the meat of your buttcheek to spread you open for him, “Look at this wrecked pussy.”

You preen under his attention and smile even if he can’t see your face in this position.

He collects the wetness of your pussy to lubricate himself before pushing into you and you swear the world stops spinning for a minute. Soonyoung was big, long enough to curve into you nicely, and his girth enough to have you gritting your teeth at the initial thrust into you.

But the position he had you in let him into you so much deeper, you swear you can feel him up to your throat, and you know you’re clenching around him with a vice grip. He felt so perfect inside of you that you could only wish he felt as good.

“You’re so deep, Soonyoung,” You say shakily, as he stills you with a hand on your hip.

“Fuck your pussy’s perfect,” He says as he presses even deeper, “Look at you stretched out for me. Making space for me inside of you. No one else can fuck you like this.”

No one can. No one will.

He slips out of you slightly just to press back in harshly with a jolt of his hips and soon he begins an almost punishing pace. He cock presses into the spot inside you incessantly and the feeling of his hands gripping tightly onto the meat of ass is the perfect mix of pain and pleasure that has you gasping out his name in a sinful litany as you cum, unintentionally tightening around him.

The groan he lets out tells you he’s close to coming and when his thrusts start to grow sloppy he pulls out of you suddenly, to wrap a fist around his cock, pulling at himself to cum onto your backside. You know from his first orgasm that Soonyoung can cum a lot and when he spills all over you again now, it lands everywhere, some of it dripping into your hole, still gaping and clenching around nothing when he had pulled out of you.

You whine, a frown making itself present on your face as you turn to face him.

“I thought you were going to cum inside me,” You say, squirming at the cum quickly cooling on your ass and the few drops that had made it inside you keeping you sticky between your thighs.

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” is all Soonyoung can say as he moves to sit up against the headboard and his pillows.

Your eyes follow his hand that’s wrapped around his still hard cock and you push it aside to take over, wanting him back in your mouth. You lay in front of him for a while, letting your tongue lap at him, and leisurely bobbing your head to get him fully hard and wet again.

In no time Soonyoung pulls you up to lay on his chest and slips back inside of you.

You sigh as your body grows boneless against him and he does all the work, hips undulating and pushing his cock into you just right so that you see stars and you gasp into each sloppy kiss. There is not even a millimeter between you two and if someone asked, you’d want to stay this way forever.

Even without the pleasure of fucking, you wished to never part from Soonyoung again.

The realization is jarring at this very moment but you let yourself ride the wave as it makes your orgasm so overwhelming tears fall from your eyes.

When Soonyoung sees the tear stains he moves his lips to kiss them away and whispers words of reassurance before he himself groans, spilling into you and finally filling you with his cum.

You can’t contain the fullness in your heart as Soonyoung lays you on your back, and drapes himself over you. You wrap a leg around his waist, not wanting him to pull away just yet.

Then he smiles.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” You whisper, afraid that saying this now would shatter the moment. But you have to tell him again. Remind him that this cannot just be for one night.

“You have me, you have me, you have me,” He says.

-`✮´- if you've come this far, thank you and it'd mean the world to get a reblog or to hear your thoughts on my first fic long fic on here!

#frizzy fiction #hoshi x reader #hoshi smut #hoshi smau #hoshi imagines #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung scenarios #soonyoung smut #soonyoung imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #au: man of the match

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imaginespazzi · 6 months ago

Text

This Little Love of Ours

Three times Paige and Azzi didn't go on a date and the one time they did

(In which an alternate universe writer finally returns to writing things in the real universe)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff and Angst

Words: 5.4K (sighs in *this was meant to be 2K* words)

TW: Light swearing, alludes to sexual content

A/N: Hi lovelies, I'm backkkk!! Gonna keep this short and sweet but this is basically me combining a bunch of prompts/requests into one. There's some creative liberty taken with logistics and as per usual, the editing exists but so do my typos. As always, let me know what you liked and what you didn't, as well as anything you'd like to see going foreward. Happy Juneteenth and I hope y'all have a lovely rest of your week <3

we were just kids (when we fell in love)

The streets of Minsk, Belarus are bursting with light and colour, the summer breeze enveloping the two girls walking riverside as they giggle over everything and nothing. They’re breaking curfew plus a hundred other rules right now and if one of their coaches ever found out, they’d be as good as dead. But there’s something about being out in the open with Azzi, being able to delicately brush palms and not worry about her jolting away in fear of being seen, that has Paige ready to be reckless.

It’s been a year of learning Azzi, a year of discovering the little things that make her smile, a year of memorising the intricate stories that make her who she is. And Paige hides all these little details in a little treasure chest in the corner of her heart, bringing them out like little drops of lights when Azzi’s not by her side, and the darkness feels all-consuming. The thing is, Paige has never been attached to someone like this before, never felt like there was another half she needed to feel whole. She’d been an independent child, walls of steel barricading anyone from getting a glimpse into her vulnerability. For a long time, she’d been fine just living in the façade of being fine. But then she’d met Azzi. And all the walls had gone crashing down and it was okay not to be okay, because now while she held the weight of world, there was somebody there to hold her too.

“Paigeeee,” Azzi squeals with delight, eyes fixated on a van across the road, “there’s an ice cream truck.”

Paige doesn’t get time to react before she’s being pulled along, the wind tornadoing around her body. And yet she feels warm and fuzzy inside, like there’s a blanket with Azzi’s name knitted into it, wrapped around her heart.

“I’ll have the strawberry please,” Azzi smiles politely at the ice cream vendor, eyes sparkling with excitement, “P what are you getting?”

Paige grins, knowing her order is about to earn her a patented eye roll, “I’ll have the mint choc chip please.”

“You’re so weird,” the younger girl scrunches up her face and Paige suddenly has the urge to kiss her nose.

They both know that they’re living inbetween blurred lines, on a trapeze balanced between friends and something more. It had been a whispered conversation of have you ever kissed a girl? do you wanna kiss a girl? do you wanna kiss me? that had led to a kiss Paige swears can never be topped, but they hadn’t spoken about it again. With them living in separate states, it had been easy to ignore that, that had ever even happened, both of them skilled players at the game of pretend. But it’s different now they’re back in each other’s orbit and every touch seems to linger on Paige’s skin long after Azzi’s hands have left her own.

“You have no taste. It’s sooooo good,” Paige chides, making a show of licking her ice cream. When she looks at Azzi, she’s not expecting the way the shooting guard’s eyes have glazed over, fixated on Paige’s lips as she swallows nervously. An unfamiliar shiver tickles down Paige’s skin as they stand in silence, the air thick with a new tension.

“It’s green,” Azzi says finally, voice coming out breathless, “that’s enough for me to know it tastes bad.”

“Don’t knock it til you taste it,” the blond holds out her cone as an invitation.

When Azzi steps into Paige space, much closer than needed, she’s expecting Azzi to take the cone. She’s expecting that familiar jolt of electricity when their hands accidentally brush. Instead she feels herself being mesmerised by Azzi’s face getting closer and closer til she can feel the younger girl’s breath fanning her face. She gulps, as Azzi presses her lips to the corner of Paige’s mouth, tongue darting out for the briefest of seconds before she’s pulling away. And despite the cool of the ice cream, every part of Paige feels like it’s burning.

“I was wrong. Guess it tastes pretty good,” Azzi whispers, biting her lip.

“You-I-what-” Paige splutters, struggling to form a coherent thought.

Azzi giggles, clearly proud of herself “Paige Bueckers speechless? Who thought I’d ever see the day?”

“You’re a fucking menace.”

“And proud of it.”

There’s the clichéd spring in Paige’s step as they continue to walk by the river. She shifts her ice cream cone to her left hand, letting the other one entangle with Azzi’s fingers. It’s nothing, the most mundane of things to hold her best friend’s hand, but it feels exhilarating, like it’s the start of something special. Determined, she tugs on Azzi’s hand to pull them to a stop. The Minsk waterfront dazzles behind them but Paige swears nothing’s glowing brighter than two of them in this moment.

“Why are we stopping?” Azzi asks, eyebrows raised quizzically.

Paige smirks, a new surge of confidence taking birth in her stomach, “I wanted to try your ice cream too. You got a taste of mine, it’s only fair I get a taste of yours.”

“Is that so?” Azzi hums, pressing herself against Paige, “too bad it seems like I’ve finished my cone then.”

“Yeah too fucking bad,” Paige agrees before crashing her lips against Azzi’s.

***

Paige is exhausted at breakfast the next morning, barely registering the conversations that are buzzing around her. Her eyes are drooping from the lack of sleep and there’s a dull pounding in her head but she has no regrets. Last night had been everything. She can still feel every moment pulsating through her veins, her heart beating to the rhythm of Azzi Azzi Azzi. The younger girl hasn’t appeared for breakfast yet and Paige is itching to see her. They’ve been separated for barely a couple of hours, reluctantly heading to their own rooms after they’d gotten back, and Paige swears she’d missed the girl even in her sleep.

“You got back late last night,” Cameron teases, sticking out a fork of fruit in Paige’s direction, “you two must have had a good time.”

“Yeah,” there’s a rare shyness in Paige’s tone, “yeah we had a great time.”

“Oooh are we talking about Paige and Azzi’s date last night?” Aliyah cuts in, a smirk playing on her lips.

“It wasn’t a date,” Paige counters, suddenly feeling oddly defensive “it- it was nothing.”

Cam raises an eyebrow, “it seemed like a date.”

“Well it wasn’t. It definitely was not a date.”

“You guys heard her,” Azzi's voice makes Paige freeze, something akin to guilt pooling in her stomach, “it definitely was not a date.”

Cam and Aaliyah raise their hands in surrender, turning back to whatever conversation they were engaged in before. Paige gulps as Azzi sits down in the empty spot next to her, body rigid.

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Paige it’s fine. I get it.”

“You- you do?” Paige doesn't entirely know how Azzi can get it, not when Paige doesn’t even really get it herself.

Azzi shrugs with fake nonchalance, “yeah, yeah I do and it’s okay. You’re right. It wasn’t a date.”

And it wasn’t. At least not by name. Paige knows that. Apparently Azzi knows it too. But everything about that feels wrong. Underneath the table, their hands intertwine subconsciously. Neither of them react. Neither of them pull away. It’s the start of something unspoken, something complicated, something beautiful and fragile and so, so volatile, something that’ll take them years to understand.

2. this all or nothing way of loving (got me sleeping without you)

paige bueckers has posted a new story to her close friends

Azzi fights the twitch in her hand that wants to reach out and grab her phone when that notification flashes on her screen. She musters up another fake smile at her date, hoping the girl in front of her hasn’t noticed the change in her demeanour. It’s ridiculous the way her body reacts to the most simple things when it comes to Paige. She hates it, hates the way it seems like she has no control over herself when it comes to the blonde.

“Do you need to get that?” Anika asks, voice sweet as honey as she smiles at Azzi

“No, no it’s just an insta notification. Nothing important. You were saying,” Azzi brushes it off, trying to keep her voice nonchalant. Anika seems satisfied with that as she returns back to telling Azzi about something her sister had done. Fidgeting in her seat, Azzi tries her hardest to keep her focus on the brunette, but her mind is whirring with curiosity about what Paige might have posted.

The opportunity presents itself a couple of minutes laters, when Anika slides out of her seat to go to the bathroom. It’s a little embarrassing how quickly Azzi beelines for her phone, clicking on Paige’s story and immediately wishing she hadn’t. Anger and jealousy tighten their grip on her as she’s met with a picture of a caramel skinned, curly haired girl smiling at the camera, staring at Paige behind it, with that oh so familiar look of adoration. The text on the image reads in good company and Azzi feels bile rising up her throat. And she’s not allowed to feel this way, not when she and Paige had both agreed to turn their something into nothing but every day since that decision has felt a little bit like someone twisting a dagger into her heart, piercing further and further until she has no more blood left to bleed.

She doesn’t notice Anika’s made her way back until she feels a warm hand on her shoulder, looking up to find concerned green eyes staring down at her, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” Azzi nods with a sense of calm she doesn’t feel, “you okay with me showing you off a bit?”

It’s a dangerous game she’s about to play, one of jealous retaliation that she knows will only make her feel better for a brief second before all the pain will flood back. But she reaches for her phone anyways, fighting the voices of logic and reason (that sound oddly similar to Colleen) in her head and instead giving into impulse. Anika beams at the camera, throwing up a peace sign, and Azzi’s heart stutters with guilt at how sincere her smile is. She snaps the picture, captioning it with date night <3 and clicks post to close friends. Her heart beats erratically as she places her phone back on the table, trying to tune back into Anika’s conversation. It takes approximately three minutes for her phone to flash again.

paige bueckers has posted a new story to her close friends

This time Azzi doesn’t bother fighting the urge to look, a new adrenaline pumping through her veins. It’s a mirror selfie this time. The girl has her back pressed against Paige’s front as they pose in front of the bathroom mirror. Paige has one hand holding her phone while the other is sprawled against the other girl’s waist, where a silver belly button piercing shimmers against tan skin. There’s no text this time, just a red heart and that Paige-shaped hole in Azzi’s heart is starting to get larger and larger.

“You wanna take a walk?” Azzi asks Anika, tearing her eyes away from the phone, “it’s nice outside.”

Anika smiles, rising from her seat and holding out a hand that Azzi gladly takes. It would be easier, Azzi thinks, if she could just fall in love with this girl. Someone less complicated, someone who had less power over her, someone who was here. But it’s a futile dream, her heart is spoken for and Azzi doesn’t think she’ll ever get it back.

It's a beautiful winter night outside and there’s a pretty girl holding her hand. That’s all Azzi should be thinking about. Instead, her mind is stuck on the image from before and it’s that vision, welded behind her eyelids, that has her taking a picture of her and Anika’s intertwined hands. As she types out the caption, one that feels way too deep for a first date, Azzi can’t help but roll her eyes at herself. She can’t remember the last time she’d posted a story, let alone two in a row and now here she is, posting inauthentic story after story to win a losing game.

paige bueckers has posted a new story to her close friends

This time there’s at least 10 minutes before Azzi’s phone flashes with that notification again. Next to Azzi, Anika lets out a sigh, starting to become less amiable to the idea of her date constantly checking her phone. Azzi shoots her an apologetic look before her expression quickly turns stone cold at seeing the new picture. It’s a haphazardly taken, slightly pixelated, photo of Paige smiling and the girl kissing her cheek. And if Azzi was in any mood to analyse just a little further she’d notice that Paige’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, isn’t quite as wide as her real one. But there’s green fog clouding her judgement as she seethes internally, Anika’s soft touch doing nothing to calm her down. Tapping on Paige’s profile, Azzi fingers hover over the three dots on the upper left, as her petty side begins to take over.

And then she hits block.

***

“How was your date?” Paige’s mocking voice rings throughout Azzi’s childhood bedroom at almost 2 in the morning. She shouldn’t have answered the facetime call, should’ve held out for longer than just three missed calls and twelve angry texts. But Azzi has long realised that she’s putty when it comes to Paige.

“How’s your girlfriend,” Azzi bites back.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Right,” Azzi draws out the word with an eyeroll, “how’s your fuck buddy then?”

Paige closes her eyes, rubbing her temples. When she opens them, the angry hard-to-read Paige that she’s been dealing with for the last month is replaced by Azzi’s soft, sweet and vulnerable Paige. Being apart after having been together all through lockdown has been harder than either of them could have imagined. They’d just assumed it would be easy when Paige finally left for UConn, after all most of their relationship had been built while living in different states. But somewhere in between workouts at 6 am and movie nights with Azzi’s family, they’d gotten used to living in each other’s skin, forgetting just how difficult it was to be apart from each other.

“I miss you,” Paige whispers, “all the time. I can’t wait til you’re here.”

I miss you too, so much that sometimes it’s the only thing I feel, Azzi thinks and really it’s what she should say, instead the bitterness wins out, “why? So I can see you and that girl being all coupley in person instead of just on instagram?”

“That’s not fair, Azzi. You said you wanted to be just friends for now. You said I should try with other people and now you wanna throw that back in my face?”

“It was mutual-”

“Bullshit,” Paige sneers, “don’t try and put that shit on me. You made the decision and I just went along with it.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have then,” Azzi says exasperatedly, blinking her eyes rapidly to keep tears threatening to fall at bay. They fall into silence, staring at each other through the screen with identical expressions of only you can hurt me, only you can heal me. Azzi wishes she could reach through her phone, pull Paige into her world and melt into the older girl.

“What do you want from me Az?” Paige asks softly.

I just want you, Azzi thinks miserably. She wants to be beg Paige to end things with that other girl, wants Paige to tell her not go on anymore dates, want to go back to being something, but she can’t, not when she’s convinced herself that they need do this, go through a phase of being nothing, so that they can be everything someday. This whole idea had taken birth in her head out of the fear that this- the two of them not knowing anything but each other- would eventually lead to resentment, that they- that Paige- would wake up one day and realise there was so much more the world had to offer. So now Azzi’s playing the long game, trying to believe in the clichéd year old adage that you have to let the people you love go, and if they come back, they’re yours. And she hopes against hope that Paige will come back, because Azzi doesn't think she’ll survive anything else.

“I’m sorry,” Azzi whispers, instead of voice the other thoughts dancing on the tip of her tongue, “I’m sorry I’m being unfair.”

Paige’s eyes soften, “can we just- can we just talk about something else?”

And they do. They talk all night about everything and nothing, falling asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing. It’s that same nightly routine neither of them can fall asleep without. Because even if they’re both drowning in a sea of unspoken words, at least they’re sinking together, perhaps there’s some comfort in that.

3. you make me smile (please stay for a while now)

Azzi stares at her reflection in the mirror for what feels like the thousandth time. She’s a bundle of nervous energy as she pats down her neatly ironed mini-skirt, adjusting her already perfectly-set crop top. It’s a little bit like how she feels before stepping on the court, dizzy with both nerves and excitement in anticipation. By all technicalities, this isn’t their first date. There’s probably friends and family who would argue this is closer to be their millionth or so date but nothing has ever been official. It just means more.

She jumps a little when the doorbell rings at exactly 7 p.m. sharp, taking in a deep breath, before she opens the door. Paige stands outside in black pants with a black crop top and a multicolor cardigan, and a bouquet of pink roses in her hands. It takes Azzi about two seconds to realise that something’s wrong. Paige’s eyes are a feverish red and her smile is tired; it’s her all too familiar Paige is sick demeanour that Azzi’s quick to recognize after years of having seen it. The blonde opens her mouth to say something and instead all that comes out is a series of loud sneezes.

“Oh baby,” Azzi gives her a sympathetic smile, reaching out to feel Paige’s forehead and then narrowing her head when she feels the heat, “P-”

“I’m fine,” Paige cuts her off, her voice gravelly, “just allergies.”

Azzi crosses her arms, knowing she’s about to deal with a petulant child, “I don’t think so. You’re clearly sick.”

“I don’t-,” Paige tries to disguise the cough in between her sentences, “-get sick.”

“Sure you don’t,” Azzi nods, as she tugs Paige inside, grabbing the flowers and setting them aside. Paige lets out grunts of protest, but her body is clearly too tired to fight back as Azzi guides them into her room. She goes into her closet first, finding an oversized shirt for Paige to change into.

“You know the getting undressed part comes after the date right?” Paige raises an eyebrow, practically glaring at the t-shirt

“We’re not going on a date.”

“WHAT? Dude I’m fine. I have a reservation and everything,” Paige whines in between coughs as she watches Azzi rummage through her drawers for medication, “it’s our first date. I had plans.”

“I’m not going on a date with you looking all snotty and congested like that.”

Azzi suppresses a laugh at Paige’s offended sequel, “what happened to sickness and health?”

“Pretty sure that’s a marriage thing,” she hands Paige the pills and a glass of water, that the older girl obediently takes.

“Well we’re eventually gonna get married so you need to get used to that,” it’s said so casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but it steals Azzi’s breath away, the words carving themselves into the walls of her heart. Sometimes she wonders if Paige understands the gravity of the things she says, understands how they make every part of Azzi come alive with hope for their future. She shies away from a smirking Paige, trying to hide the blush that’s creeping up her neck.

“Just- just get changed,” she manages to stutter out.

“I,” sneeze, “don’t,” cough, “want” sneeze, “to.”

“Paige.”

“Azzi.”

“You have to get better P or coach will kill us both if you end up missing practice.”

“Going on a date with you would make me feel better.”

“Okay,” Azzi sighs, realising she needs to change tactics, “we’ll make a compromise. You’re gonna change-” she raises a hand when Paige tries to interrupt, “you’re gonna change and lie down, and if you don’t fall asleep in the next 10 minutes, we’ll go on the date.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrow in concentration as she mulls it over, before a scheming glint appears in her eyes, “okay but on one condition,” her grabby hands reach for Azzi’s waist, a soft smile playing on her chapped lips, “you have to lie down with me.”

Azzi rolls her eyes fondly, letting the blonde pull her into her arms, her own hands encircling Paige’s back as the older girl snuggles into her neck with a content sigh. This is her happy place. In any room, anywhere, as long as she’s cocooned in Paige’s embrace, there’s a sense of serenity that seems to flood into Azzi’s veins.

“I could fall asleep here,” Paige murmurs, hot breath fanning against Azzi’s collarbone, “you’re so comfortable.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to physically manoeuvre Paige onto the bed which only elicits a smirk against her skin.

“If you wanted me in your bed Az, you could have just asked,” the older girl wiggles her eyebrows, earning her a small push from Azzi as Paige drags them both down into a mess of limbs and pillows. Cerulean blue eyes stare up at Azzi, a little bloodshot from the impending fever, but still blisteringly brilliant with love. It scares Azzi sometimes, to see all that emotion swimming in Paige’s eyes, all for her and it scares her even more to know that same pool of you’re it for me is reflected in her own too. Sometimes she worries they’re too young for this, too young to feel so much but then Paige smiles, and all of Azzi’s doubt flies away as she lets herself believe in forever.

***

Paige doesn’t even really make it past five minutes, her sick body giving into the tiredness as she cuddles into Azzi, arms splayed over the younger girl's torso, as she keeps her head buried in her shoulder. There’s a content smile on her face as Azzi continues to run her hands through silky blond hair, brushing out tiny knots and waiting a couple of minutes, before she detaches herself from her girlfriend and heads to the kitchen. She’s not the greatest of chefs, but she’d like to think she’s skilled enough to try and make something that at least resembles chicken noodle soup.

Azzi’s almost done when she feels a blanket being wrapped around her, two arms coming to wrap around her waist as she feels the weight of Paige’s chest pressed against her back, the older girl's head coming to rest in the crook of Azzi’s neck.

“You’re already awake,” Azzi whispers, leaning her head back so she can brush her lips against Paige’s temple.

Paige grunts, her voice nasally when she speaks, “you left and I was cold.”

“I have like three blankets on my bed you could’ve used.”

“Don’t wanna use blankets. Wanna use you,” Paige whispers, pressing a kiss to Azzi’s neck, making the younger girl shiver, “you’re much warmer.”

“Go pick out a movie to watch, I’m almost done with this.”

She can’t see it but Azzi can practically feel Paige’s raised eyebrows, as she dramatically sniffs the air, “you cooked? Babe I’m already sick, are you trying to get me sicker?”

“Wow. I slave over the kitchen for you for hours-”

“Maybe half-”

“HOURS! And you have the audacity to question my cooking when all you can make is buffalo chicken dip?”

“Hey, you love my buffalo chicken dip.”

“You keep telling yourself that baby.”

“It’s not nice to be mean to your sick girlfriend,” Paige snickers as she makes her way to the couch in Azzi’s room.

“So you admit you’re sick then?”

“Only sick to my stomach at whatever you’re gonna feed me.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, pouring the soup into a bowl. She secretly loves when they get like this. It’s a reminder that no matter what other label they eventually put on their relationship, Paige will always be her best friend first. As soon as Azzi sits down on the couch, Paige is all over her, knowing exactly how to shrink her body so that all 6’0 of her fits perfectly on her girlfriend’s lap. This is Azzi’s favourite version of Paige really, the soft vulnerable babygirl that’s only for Azzi’s eyes, a far cry from the ultimate rizzler the rest of the world sees.

“Feed me,” Paige pouts and Azzi shakes her head fondly but does as she’s asked, holding a spoonful of chicken noodle soup in front of Paige’s mouth.

“Thought you were scared of my cooking?”

“Oh I am but the things we do for love,” the blonde says dramatically before letting Azzi feed her, “huh, that’s not half bad baby.”

“High compliments,” Azzi says mock-seriously, as she tries her own spoonful, “oh I kinda ate that.”

They both dissolve into giggles at that, falling into a comfortable conversation as Azzi takes turns feeding both herself and Paige, the dull rumbling of some random movie behind them.

“You’re always taking care of me,” Paige says softly after a while, hand caressing Azzi’s left arm as she lies against her chest, feeling her heartbeat underneath her fingertips.

“Someone has to,” Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s hair, “you take care of everyone else and I take care of you.”

“Sorry I ruined our date but trust, I’mma make it up to you,” Paige mumbles sleepily, digging herself further into Azzi’s arms if that’s even possible.

“I’m sure you will baby.”

“I love you.”

“Love you more P.”

And if in two days, Azzi’s the one that’s sick and Paige’s attempt at making chicken noodle soup goes even worse, well, let’s just say it’s a good thing they have NIL deals and can afford a chef in the future.

4. me i fall in love with you every single day (and i just wanna tell you i am)

“Where are you taking me?” Azzi giggles, hands outstretched as she tries to navigate the path in front of her, despite being blindfolded. The salty sea air brushes through her hair, as she places one foot in front of another, letting Paige’s hands on her waist guide her across the cruise ship.

“Be patient, we’re almost there,” Paige whispers against her ear, nervous anticipation building in her stomach. She’s been planning this night from the moment they’d booked the cruise tickets, wanting everything to be as near to perfect as possible. The thing is, they’ve been on plenty of dates, some even before they’d officially started calling them dates. But most of those dates have had to be carefully constructed away from prying eyes, their hands itching to hold the others but forced to dangle by their sides so they could keep up a façade in public, that this was just friends hanging out. The cruise is the perfect spot for a private date, one where Paige wouldn’t have to keep her hands to herself, not that she’s done a good job of that the whole trip anyway. But she’s found the perfect secret spot and spent just a little bit of money, to make sure the other cruise goers wouldn’t bother them tonight.

“Are we there yet?” Azzi whines and Paige can’t help but laugh, finally pulling them to a stop.

“So impatient,” she tuts as she finally pulls away Azzi’s satin pink blindfold.

“Yes well I’m star-oh…” Azzi blinks, eyes adjusting to the light as they flitter over her surroundings, the words being stolen from her lips as an awed look takes over her features, “Paige.”

“You like?” Paige bites her lips nervously.

“Do I like? Baby, this is beautiful,” tears sparkle in Azzi’s eyes as she loops her arms around Paige’s neck, “it’s perfect.”

They’re standing on the bow of the cruise ship. In the distance, the island they’re docked at, is illuminated by lights, making it shimmer against the dark night sky. A table for two sits at the helm of the ship, adorned in a purple velvet table cloth. There are candles and pink and white rose petals scattered all across the floor, with a small path carved out in between so they can walk to the table. On the table, there’s a customised crystal centrepiece with their names carved into it and inside it is a bouquet made of pictures of them. It’s a little cliché really, especially for two people whose path to each other had been anything but traditional but all Paige has ever wished for is a moment of normalcy with Azzi, a moment where they’re not star players, just two girls in love, enjoying a typical date night, a moment where they’re just PaigeAndAzzi.

“When did you even have time to plan all of this?” Azzi marvels out loud, as Paige pulls out a chair for her.

“I have my ways,” the blonde says with a smirk, taking a seat opposite her girlfriend and reaching to entwine their hands together.

“You didn’t have to do this P.”

Paige shrugs, “I wanted to. We deserve this.”

Azzi nods, squeezing Paige’s hand because god knows they do deserve this. It’s been a hellish year if they’re honest. The highs had been wonderful but the lows, god the lows had felt like the ground being pulled from beneath their feet as they gripped each other, holding onto the only thing in their lives that felt like a reprieve from the darkness that swirled around them. And really that’s it Paige thinks, life can throw whatever it wants at her, but as long as she has Azzi, she’ll learn to survive it.

“You wanna dance?” Paige asks, when they’ve finally finished eating, somehow managing to find a way to hold hands throughout the whole three course meal. As if on cue, a violin quartet appears onto the deck, and Azzi laughs at the coincidence. It’s Paige’s favourite sound in the whole wide world.

“You’re such a sap,” Azzi teases fondly as she lets Paige lead them onto the floor, “how many romcoms did you watch to come up with this whole thing?”

“Dude, are you doubting my abilities to come up with a perfect date?”

“I would never,” Azzi swears, leaning her cheek against Paige’s, “but seriously Bueckers, you’ve outdone yourself.”

The melody of “thinking out loud” on the violin with the light thrum of the sounds of the wind and the ocean, creates the perfect orchestra for them to sway to, as they press every inch of themselves into each other, trying to lose themselves in the other’s arm. That feeling of home, a resounding peace, echoes throughout Paige’s skull and she thinks if there was ever a memory she’d want to replay over and over again, it would be this one.

“I’m gonna miss this,” Paige whispers, “being with you like this?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“No I know- I just- I like being able to be us in public like we have this last week. I like not pretending.”

“What if-,” Azzi pulls back a little, eyes locking with Paige’s, “what if we didn’t pretend?”

Paige searches for a shred of hesitance in Azzi’s face, but finds nothing but complete resoluteness and a grin breaks out on her own face, “what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that even if we don’t say anything, maybe we don’t have to try and hide everything all the time either. I’m saying,” Azzi bites her lips, shyly smiling, “if you wanna hold my hand when we’re in public sometimes, you- you can if- if you want to.”

“I really, really, really want to,” Paige breathes against the brunette’s lips, hands rubbing circles against her waist.

“Good,” Azzi whispers back, “because I really, really, really want you to.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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luxurychristmaspudding · 8 months ago

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summary: after showing frankie what he was missing, something seems to have been awoken in you all. with joel away on a contract and santi called out of town, you're left in frankie's care. except one rule still stands - you can't touch.

read part 1, listen, here BONUS: al's handy guide to reading watch

grouping: f!reader x joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia

rating/warnings: 18+. MDNI. no outbreak (tlou) - but based after the tf mission. alright, buckle in. softdom!joel, softdom!santi, sub!frankie, sub!reader, lil bit of softdom!reader and bratty!reader as well hehe. drinking, pet names (inc. little/baby girl, baby boy). rules get broken (surprise!), praise kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it!), exhibitionism, voyeurism, public fingering, blowjobs (m receiving and giving), rimming, mutual masturbation, phone sex, use of toys (f&m), consensual somnophilia, cumplay, edging, facesitting, anal fingering (m), mfm, anal sex (m receiving), tiny bit of breath play (not reader), light bondage, brief gagging, very high sex drives but who can blame them, once again so many orgasms i lost count, and in the immortal words of @thatredheadwriter, 'so much fluid exchange I think a hasmat team should probably go in to clean it up' reader wears dresses and has hair, but has no other descriptions. no use of y/n.

wc: 25k (i know, i'm so sorry)

an: many many many thanks to the peeps who waited an age for this. you've all been so patient and kind and i hope you enjoy! for @schnarfer, @swiftispunk, @5oh5 and @janaispunk who, without their constant encouragement and recommendation, this may not have happened at all <3 dividers as always from the wonderful @saradika-graphics

In the weeks that follow, you wait for the ball to drop.

You wait to feel weird about what the four of you did, for the kick of it, for Joel to reveal that he actually wasn’t that sold on it. You wait for a text or call from Frankie or Santi to say it was nice knowing you, but it was a little much, a little weird to see you around now.

It doesn’t happen.

You stay slotted into Joel’s life like you were always meant to be there. You stay over at his, he stays over at yours. You spend lazy Sunday mornings making waffles or pancakes and getting fucked dumb. He brings you flowers when work is hard, you rub his shoulders when he’s had a rough day on site. Your body is marked beneath your clothes with his bruises, the shape of his teeth, and his is marked by yours, the scratch of your nails traced delicately down his back.

You spend your time orbiting around each other, close and safe in the bubble you’ve built, warm and soft in the afternoon sunlight that streams through the curtains on your days off, eating in and eating out. He becomes more familiar than anyone else has ever been with the inner workings of your mind, the inner workings of your body. He introduces you to his brother, Tommy, and his wife, Maria. He talks about you to Sarah, and she says she’d love to meet you next time she’s home from college. He makes space for your books on his shelves, and your clothes find a way into his wardrobe; his squeeze into your drawers, a spare toothbrush for him in your bathroom. He kisses you, hot and open mouthed when he drops you off at work, does the same when you find his truck waiting outside for you when you’re done. He asks how the boys are when you come home from drinks with them, listens with sparkling eyes when you tell him Benny’s latest hookup is from the bar you used to work at, the place where they first met you. He chuckles and tells you he's glad Santi introduced the two of you when he did, before any of the others swooped in and took you for themselves.

Sometimes, you think he forgets about the night that Frankie asked you out, the conversations that followed. How close it could have been.

But that's naive of you. Naive of you to think that he doesn’t see, doesn’t seek out the claim that Frankie and Santi have also made on you. Because he knows. In some infuriating, impossible way, he always knows.

He shows you he knows one morning, when you have already been awake for what feels like hours, watching his broad chest rise and fall with deep, sleeping breaths.

You trace the curve of his nose with your eyes, the scruff of his beard, the way his curls have grown out. Luscious and thick, spattered with grey, curling down into the nape of his neck. His lips look so warm, so soft, that you’ve been challenging yourself, seeing how long you can go without kissing him awake. Seeing how long you can go with just remembering how they felt between your legs last night, wet with spit and your release as he soothed you through orgasm after orgasm, kissing your thighs, sucking marks into your soft flesh as he held you down with one thick palm braced against your belly, the other with its fingers gently pumping in and out of you. The deep timbre of his voice when you made yourself look at him, his praise, good girl, there she is, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl through your tears, as you begged him, begged him for something else, something more. More, daddy, you’d pleaded. You'd needed something thicker, something deeper. You always do.

You squirm beneath the sheets, pressing your thighs together. Try to think of anything else. The green of his bedroom walls, the boots you know will be at the end of the bed. His trinkets on the dresser - the watch Sarah bought (and fixed, many times) for him, the picture of him and his family at Tommy and Maria’s wedding, your clothes scattered about the floor, the chair in the corner of the room, the chair where he sat that night, as he watched, as he watched you -

You roll over onto your side to look away from it, squeezing your eyes shut, barely able to control your whimper. You’re slick between your thighs, too warm as your wetness mixes with the cum still drooling out of your cunt. You try and count his freckles instead, starting from his forehead to his cheekbones, down to his neck - his neck - his shoulder, the bite mark you left there as he spilled himself into you, the hand resting on his chest, his thick fingers, his fingers -

It’s no good. It’s no fucking good. He needs to rest, so you take a deep breath and steel yourself. Coffee. You’ll head downstairs, you’ll make coffee, and when he’s slept enough you’ll talk him through everything you’ve been thinking about, and he’ll make it better. Starting with his tongue.

You press your hands to the mattress as you start to raise your torso from the bed, and almost immediately at the shifting of your weight, Joel’s hand shoots out to grab you.

‘Where you goin’, pretty girl?’

You smile, smug. So he's awake. And you know, with his grip like this, you’ll get anything you want from him.

‘Coffee,’ you say, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to his soft lips. He returns it, eyes still shut, hand shifting from your forearm to your bicep, to your shoulder, to the back of your neck. He holds you there as he draws his tongue across the seam of your lips, and with a groan you let him in. The bristle of his moustache tickles as he licks into your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as his free hand skates between the sheets to skim over your bare thigh. You shift against him, bringing your calf over both of his legs. The movement brings his hand forwards, dipping between your legs to trace two fingers up through your drenched cunt. You moan loudly against him, and Joel chuckles.

‘Last night not enough for you, little girl?’

You hum against him, shaking your head. He retracts his fingers.

‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you.

‘No, da-’ you start, but as soon as your lips part he has his fingers on your tongue. On instinct, your eyes flutter shut and you suck them, swirling your tongue over the thick digits, savouring the taste of you both.

‘Rude to talk with your mouthful, sweet pea,’ he murmurs, ‘Somebody oughta fuck some manners into ya.’

With his fingers still in your mouth, Joel turns you onto your back, bracing himself away from you to watch you continue to suckle on his fingers. He pushes them further back, further, further, only to watch you begin to gag around him.

‘Good girl,’ he says, withdrawing them, spit-slick, before bringing them back to your pussy. He watches your face as he pushes them easily inside, the crease between your brows, the way your jaw slackens, the way your eyes widen as he curls them into your sweet spot. He nods, pleased. ‘Think you’re wet enough to take me already, baby,’ he says, swiping them over your clit. You jolt, moaning again at the feeling. ‘What do you think?’

‘Yeah, daddy,’ you sigh, ‘Ready for you.’

Joel chuckles.

‘Always so ready f'me, isn’t she, princess?’ He says, lining himself up at your entrance, gripping your jaw to keep your eyes on him. He doesn’t expect an answer this time. ‘Yeah, always dripping for me, aren’t you? Poor baby girl. Poor baby girl and her messy little pussy.’

He feeds his cock to you slowly, so slowly. You whine and arch against him as he does, brain trickling away from you, already so given in to the sensation; mind deliciously blank, nails scratching at his forearms as he cages you in, thrusting deep, bottoming out. When he sees your eyes roll back, he picks up his pace smoothly, thrusting faster and harder, deeper. You moan out a long daddy, and he huffs in amusement.

‘Does daddy feel good, sweet girl?’

You gasp out a yes, fuck, daddy, and he hums in response.

'There she is,’ he says, ‘Didn’t need coffee, did ya, baby? Just wanted daddy. Just needed your daddy, hm?’ You nod furiously, tongue loosened by the heavy weight of him inside you, babbling away about how good he feels, how deep, how big he is. You lock your ankles around the bottom of his spine to pull him closer, and he groans, head dipping to yours. ‘Yeah,’ he breathes, ‘You take what you need, baby. Just wanna get fucked, huh? Woke up dreamin’ a me? Dreamin’ a me fuckin’ you full of my cum again, babygirl?’

You moan again, neck pulling taught as you arch further, pull him in deeper. The coil deep in your belly tightens, jaw clenching as you scratch at him, as you tug the hair at the nape of his neck.

‘Poor baby, can’t even get her words out,’ he coos, and like he wants to prove his point, he pushes even deeper, tip kissing your cervix, the bruising feeling making you gasp, making you plead, making you beg as you try and move your hips away from him. He brings his hand away from your face to your waist, keeping you in place.

‘Relax, sweetheart,’ he smiles, rocking in and out of you again, ‘I know you can take it, just relax f'me. That’s a good girl. I know it’s big but you can take it.’

You clench around him, painfully, try to mumble out how close you are, but you can’t even summon the words. In this room, he is all you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel. The slickness of it, the heat, the burning pleasure rising inside you as you writhe beneath him.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ he murmurs, ‘You’re close already, huh?’ You hum, body tight, so close, so close, head so empty. ‘Yeah, you are. Fuck, love when you get all stupid on me like this. You like getting fucked dumb on daddy’s cock, baby? Can you feel me all the way in here, sweetheart?’ he asks, moving the hand on your waist to press against your lower stomach. You clench harder as he presses down, the coil tightening, spiralling, and you’re right there - ‘Wish you could fuckin’ see yourself right now, baby. Wish you could see how pretty ya look getting fucked. You like being watched, don’t ya, darlin’? Yeah. Want Santi and Francisco to watch again, baby?’ You gasp at his words, surprised, vision blurring, hurtling towards your climax, the build up scorching, impossibly long. ‘Sure you do. Or d'you want Santi to fuck you again, make you scream his name while he’s inside you, huh?’

Fuck, okay. Okay -

‘Yes, daddy -’ you breathe, pussy fluttering around him, the beginnings of your orgasm.

‘Santi? Or is it Frankie, baby? You want his mouth on you, want to feel him stretch you open? He’s big, isn’t he? Wanna see how he feels, if he fits like me?’

He is, you remember, he is, and you could try. If you can take Joel, you can take Frankie, and oh, what a thought -

Your body pulls tighter, aching, painful, and you cry out.

‘Shit -’ you moan, ‘Shit, Joel, I’m -’

‘Come, babygirl,’ he tells you. ‘Come all over my cock, princess. Get it nice and wet, just how daddy likes it.’

You burst aflame beneath him with a shout, body jerking as you hiss and gasp, gripping him to you as he fucks you through it. You whimper with every thrust as he keeps talking through gritted teeth, thrusting harder.

‘Yeah, that’s it. So sweet, baby. Good fuckin’ girl. You want them again, darlin’? Want to play with 'em? Want to watch 'em play with your daddy?’

A needy whine slips past your lips as you picture it; Frankie on his knees, Santi on all fours, and you grow even wetter at the thought, the slick of your orgasm and Joel’s words making the prettiest noises.

‘She likes that,’ Joel says, almost to himself, ‘Yeah, she likes that. Dirty girl. Dirty girl, wanting all three of us, wanting to watch, hm? Wanna touch, baby? Wanna see how it feels?’ He looks so fucked out on top of you that even you’re not sure if he knows what he’s saying, what he’s asking you. But you gasp out a yes anyway, something warm and quick trickling up your spine, tightening your cunt again.

‘Another one,’ he grunts, ‘Another one, darlin’, and I’ll give you what you want.’

You don’t need to be told twice. Your second orgasm rips through you lightning fast and white-hot, so good that you hear ringing in your ears, so tight that Joel stutters inside of you, groaning, breathing your name as he pumps and spills and twitches. You’re both breathing so heavily that it’s all you can do to lie there, licking your lips as Joel pulls out with a moan and flops beside you. A breathless little giggle escapes your parted lips.

Joel reaches across your body and tugs you by the arm until you’re nestled into his side. Too hot, too breathless, but you breathe him in all the same, tracing patterns on his chest.

The room is quiet as you both come down from your highs, your eyes falling closed as Joel presses a kiss to your hairline. Your brain tries its best not to think, not to read into it, but even through the exhaustion, his words come back to you.

Watch, touch.

You have to know. You have to ask, now, want to know, want it, want it, want it -

‘Do you - do you want to do it again?’ You stutter.

Joel puffs out a laugh to the ceiling.

‘You’re gonna have to give me at least ten minutes, baby.’

You laugh and nudge his side with your fist.

‘No,’ you smile, ‘No. The - the thing you said, about that night -’

He raises an eyebrow, and you bare your teeth awkwardly.

'You know - that night.'

‘Mm?’ Tease.

You lean further onto his chest and take his skin gently between your teeth. You nip, and he relents. You lean back slightly to look at him.

Joel smiles at you, crooks his head so he can nibble at your ear lobe.

‘Baby, I’d love to.’

The sound that leaves your lips is obscene, and you don’t care. Fuck, the thought of it. The three of them together, the four of you together.

‘All we gotta do is send the text,’ he says, ‘Could send it now and they’d be here in the hour.’ He chuckles. One of his hands moves down to your thigh, hooking it over his hip before moving to your ass to rock you against him. You groan into his shoulder. Your next question leaves your lips before you can even stop it.

‘Did you - did you mean what you said, about you and Santi and Frankie?’ You ask. It sounds clumsy, almost like you shouldn’t be asking. Fuck, maybe you should have waited for him to bring it up. You tense, waiting for his reaction.

Joel opens his eyes again with a small smirk, peeking down at you down his aquiline nose. His movements still.

‘Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.’

You draw a quick breath and hold him closer. You won’t ask anymore questions. Try to push away thoughts of what Joel could do with his hands, his mouth, his cock, of what the two other men could do with theirs, what it would be like to watch, what it would be like to feel -

‘I’ve never… I’ve never done it before.’ Joel says, quietly.

You pull back from his chest and watch him watch you. His dark eyes are honest, wary, and a question forms on your lips. He said he had been with multiple people in the past, it was something he’d done, something he was clear he had enjoyed -

‘With a man. I’ve never… done anything with a guy.’

Your stomach swoops at his nervousness. You feel your brow crease, a hand reaching up to touch his cheek.

‘That’s okay,’ you whisper, ‘That’s… I didn’t realise, that’s all. ‘M sorry if I pushed you.’

Joel shakes his head. He hums beneath you, a deep rumble in his chest.

‘Y’didn’t. You ain’t.’

You stroke your thumb along the patches of his beard.

‘Do you… want to talk about it?’

Joel closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath.

‘I’ve thought about it. For a while. Watching people, watching you. I’m… curious.’

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

‘That’s normal, baby,’ you whisper, ‘So normal.’

Your mind flashes back, back to how tender he was with you, with Frankie. His warmth towards Pope as the four of you cleaned up afterwards, as you dressed in the comfiest clothes you could find. The way his eyes lingered on your body, Santi’s body, Frankie’s, the curiosity you glimpsed as you snacked and rehydrated, the goodbyes as they slipped out the door.

It makes sense.

And it’s even better to know that all this time you’ve been imagining it, he has, too.

‘I’d like to try it,’ he says, blinking at you. ‘With them. With you. If that’s okay?’

You clutch his face tighter, tender, warmth blooming in your chest at his trust. You smile wide at him, and he visibly relaxes. Tears threaten in your eyes.

‘Yes,’ you breathe, ‘Yes. Of course it is. I… it’d be more than okay.’

He swallows.

‘You sure?’

You untangle yourself from him as much as possible, but he keeps an iron grip on your waist. You settle on your elbow.

‘Of course I’m sure, baby,’ you soothe, ‘Of course I am. I’m glad you told me. It’d be - it’d be an honour - it’s very brave of you to -’

Joel cuts you off with a snort, pulling you roughly back against him. He holds you tight within his grasp.

‘Very brave -’ he chuckles.

‘It is,’ you insist, muffled against his chest, ‘It is, and if there’s anything you want to try -’

He pulls you up so your face is level with his, and shuts you up with a firm kiss. And when you lick him a little while later, tongue pressed up, pressing in to his tight ring of muscle, you find that there is plenty he wants to try.

And plenty you want to help him with.

———

Will greets you first at the bar that evening, and you quickly lose yourself to the rhythm of the night.

The five of you are tucked back into your usual booth, bottles and glasses crowding the table, the noise of other patrons bringing you closer together, knees knocking, hands over forearms to claw yourself further into the conversation. You talk for hours, work tales being swapped, gossip about old friends, former lovers. Will and Benny seem particularly interested in your romance with Joel, and you happily fill them in, telling them about the barbeque you had round Tommy and Maria’s, how you’re meeting Sarah next time she’s home from college, and how Joel will be away on a contract next week. Frankie and Santi listen in with gleaming eyes, half-smiles of their own, sharing secrets across the table that only you are privy to. It makes your stomach tighten, your panties damp.

And the way Frankie watches you, it’s like he knows.

Seats are switched throughout the night after bathroom breaks and drinks collections, but Pope always finds a way to be close to you - a hand on your thigh, a squeeze of your palm, the press of his shoulder against yours. He stacks a small pile of peanuts on the table between the two of you, hidden behind a glass, and at any opportune moment you can, you take turns flicking them at Will or Benny. With every small, yellow projectile that smacks against their chests, arms, sometimes even faces, Frankie racks up a tally on a napkin. The game is all but lost when Benny looks at up the ceiling and asks in disbelief whether it’s raining fucking peanuts, and you and Santi collapse into fits of giggles. Benny stares at you in blank confusion, furthered by Will’s growing rumble of laughter - until he finally fixes stoic Frankie with a betrayed look, noticing the tally half-hidden by his palm, and cries out an accusatory -

‘Is that you?’ Which sends Frankie over the edge, too.

When places switch again, Will makes sure to gather you in a headlock in his strong arms and grind his knuckles roughly into your scalp. You yelp with laughter, giggling against each other, sinking into the dirty leather as Will muses on how much of a bastard you are, wondering out loud how your skills as a former bartender allowed you to outsmart ex-Delta Force operators.

Frankie watches with his usual boyish charm, his eyes crinkling at the edges, warm and molten and wanting when they meet yours. Your tongue burns with the things you want to tell him, with what you and Joel had discussed, eventually in great detail, in bed at home. But you bite the words back, knowing what is and what isn't yours to share. Instead, you lean into Santi’s touch, scraping your nails along his jeans until he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, biting his lip in a wicked grin. He excuses himself soon after, and with his departure, Benny calls for a round of pool.

He’s already slipping out of the booth before you can protest, Will following closely behind. Frankie steps out, too, rounding your side and holding out a hand for you. You accept it, stepping out in front of him so you’re pressed chest to chest. He lifts his palm to your cheek, leaning in to press a kiss to your hairline. You press his bicep in thanks before turning back to the table, hinging at your hips to grab both his drink and yours, taking extra care to subtly grind your ass into his crotch. His palm comes to rest at the top of your thigh, holding you there for just a moment, before moving to your waist. You turn back to him. He leans in close.

‘I don’t know what you’re trying to do to us tonight, hermosa,’ he breathes into the conch of your ear, ‘But it’s working.’

You grin at him as he moves his hand from your waist to the plush flesh of your ass, squeezing gently before letting go. You take a sip from your beer, reaching up to take the cap from his curls and nestling it backwards on your own head.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

His answering smile is dirty, thrilling, and he follows you as if on a leash to the pool table the brothers have secured.

Santi joins you soon afterwards, his cheeks a little flushed, a fresh drink in his hand. You’re split off into the most unfair teams possible; Will, Benny, and Frankie taking one cue, and you and Pope with the other. Frankie racks up the balls with swift, deft movements, taking the cue easily in his massive hands, the wood resting between his thick fingers. You feel your body warm as you watch him, still wearing his cap, trying to squeeze your thighs together inconspicuously. You bring your cool bottle to your neck as Pope winds an arm around you, letting his hand settle at your hip, stroking and pinching the flesh there. You don’t look at him, but you sigh deeply, and he lets his head knock against yours, pleased. With Frankie shooting first, there’s no great rush to grab your cue and be prepared.

You watch as he pots ball after ball, mouth curving in a playful scowl as he shoots you a grin after each one, moving around the table with so much grace and ease that it starts to make you a little dizzy. Benny and Will cheer him on with loud hoots and shouts, and Pope makes sure the two of you boo him like a pantomime villain with every flick of his wrist. When he finally fails to sink a shot, Pope passes you the cue, and you take your time lowering yourself to press your chest to the green felt, inhaling deeply. You’re warm, relaxed, a little buzzed, more than a little horny. You wiggle your ass a little, and Will laughs, shouting something about how your distraction technique won’t work, and he’s right. It quickly backfires when Frankie sweeps around the table, pressing one half of his body over yours as he directs you on how to hold the cue, how to position it, how to cradle it in your fingers like he does. When he’s sure you’ve got it, he breathes into your ear for you to pull your elbow back with just the right amount of leverage, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that break out along your neck and shoulder.

‘You’re ready,’ he whispers, and just as you begin to snap your wrist forwards, he presses his firm cock into your thigh.

Your quick inhale stutters your movement, and you watch as the tip of the cue just catches the edge of the ball, sending it spinning off into a barren corner of the table. You stand and spin to Frankie.

‘You asshole!’ you cry, indignant and hot, pointing a finger at him as he snatches his cap back from your head and retreats. ‘You - jogged me!’ Frankie spreads his hands in front of him, pouting, his bulge only just covered by the front of his button up.

‘I tried my best.’ He grins.

‘Don’t worry about it, kid,’ Will calls from the other side of the table, ‘Fish is known for being good with his hands. Even when he uses them for evil.’

The men laugh as Frankie flushes, knocking his fist into Will’s belly. Despite yourself, you laugh with them, enjoying watching him flustered as Will gasps out his laughter. Pope leans in close to whisper in your ear.

‘Good with his mouth, too.’ And all the air is sucked from your lungs as you feel your own face heat. Santi laughs louder next to you, taking the cue from your hands so you can grasp your bottle instead. You watch as Benny misfires, then Pope, still giggling at his own joke, before Frankie takes over again, sinking each one until only the white remains. Not that you notice, finding yourself now caught up in the way he bites and wets his lips, how plush they look, how they’d feel pressed to your thighs, your tits, your clit -

Benny snaps his fingers in front of your eyes, waving you back to reality.

‘Ground control to Major Loser,’ he grins, ‘Frankie whooped your ass, in case you weren't paying attention. It’s your round.’

You scoff playfully at him, whirling on your heel back towards the bar, but not before catching Pope’s eye again as he smirks at you, leaning against the table next to Frankie.

You flip them off as you work your way through the crowd.

When Frankie parks his truck outside Joel’s, all the lights in the house are off.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, and Frankie eyes the front door a little warily, eyes narrowing at the distance between. You giggle at him.

‘Frankie, baby, the boogeyman is not going to get me in the space between your truck and the door.’

He frowns at you all the same before unbuckling his own seatbelt and jumping out the driver’s side. You roll your eyes at him as he bounds round the front of the truck, swinging your door open and helping you out. He grins at you.

‘I know,’ he says, ‘I know, just - let me do it. Humour me.’

He swings your hands between you as you walk up the front yard, and you try to stifle your giggles as you slot the spare key into the lock. It’s unlike Joel to not wait up for you, but you’d made sure to tucker him out before you’d left. You’re glad he’s finally getting the rest he needed.

The door swings open in front of you into yawning darkness, and Frankie gives your hip a squeeze.

‘You’re sure Joel’s home?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ you nod, flicking the hallway light on. ‘He’s probably just asleep. It’s late, and -’

‘You probably spent the first half of the day making him see God, I suppose.’ He finishes for you. You smack his chest when you see his shit-eating grin, but aren’t able to wipe your own from your lips.

‘Obviously.’ You smirk.

Frankie laughs quietly as you shut the front door behind him, letting his hands wander from your hip to your waist, up and down the span of your back, pulling you towards him. You can still feel him, warm and half hard against you, and a soft moan slips from your mouth in response to his small grind. He smiles again, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull to his chest as he rocks you back and forth, letting you feel everything while having nothing. Your own hands clutch at his shirt, shifting it higher so you can splay your palms over his bare abdomen. He looks down at you with soft, lazy eyes, and for a moment, you’re sure you’re going to kiss him. And when he leans in to whisper in your ear, you’re sure you’re going to wake Joel up and beg for him to take the two of you now. But instead, Frankie asks in a whisper -

‘Do you think Joel’d mind if I used his bathroom?’

You snort a laugh, pushing yourself away from him, and he giggles back at you.

‘Of course not,’ you say, pointing off down the hallway. ‘Just up there. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.’

He salutes as he backs away, almost knocking into the bannister of the stairs, and you have to clap your hands over your mouth to keep from laughing too loud. You step quietly into the kitchen to pour two glasses of water, but only get as far as reaching up into the cupboard when there are soft footsteps behind you. You grin, about to tease Frankie for not being able to find the bathroom on his own before warm, calloused hands are on you. Shameless, needy, groping up your top, tugging your bra down, cupping your breasts, tweaking your nipples.

Your body goes quickly liquid at the familiar touch, all smart quips dying in your throat as Joel ruts against you from behind, the weight of his hard cock hot and firm against your ass, barely disguised by his grey sweatpants. Your hands come to grip at the countertop, and you try to get the words out to tell him not now, Frankie’s here, but all that escapes is a moan.

‘’M glad you’re home, baby,’ he growls in your ear, fingers making quick work of your button and zipper. ‘Missed you. Dreamed of you. Did ya miss me, too?’ as he tugs your jeans down to the tops of your thighs.

‘Joel -’ you breathe, but you’re too slow, unable to process anything beyond the fingers he dips into your panties. Usually you love him like this, swaddled in sleep, desperate to bury himself inside you, and you’d let him take you anywhere, but not right here, not right now. Your body continues to betray you, pulsing out more of the slick that has kept your underwear damp all night - the touches beneath the table, the pressure of Frankie’s cock against your thigh during pool, him pressed up against you in the doorway. Everything you’d done with Joel earlier in the day, the way he’d come apart with your tongue and your fingers, the way he’d eaten you to the point of tears, all coming together to show him how you glisten in the low light of the kitchen. The two of you are insatiable, and he groans against you, offering you his fingers to suckle as he pulls the waistband of your panties down to join your jeans. You try to mumble out around him again - Joel, wait - but he’s too fast as he sinks himself inside of you, and every thought, every word, is wiped from your brain.

He sets a punishing pace from the off, and you take it easily, cheek pressed into the marble, head turned away from the door as you drool and whimper around him. The thick, heavy slide of his cock, covered in your slick, the wet sounds, the soft moans and pants that ricochet around the kitchen, and when he swirls a finger around your clit, your own sharp gasp heaves you to life.

‘Joel, wait - Frankie - Frankie’s here -’

But it’s too late, far too late, you realise, when you turn your head to the other side to find Frankie already stood in the entryway, leant against the frame like he’s been silently engaging you in casual conversation. Except he looks ravenous.

Joel groans from above you, tip kissing your cervix as he pumps in and out, fingers twitching over your clit to feel you tighten around him.

‘I know, baby,’ he groans, ‘He’s watchin’. See how he’s watchin’ you?’

It’s almost impossible to look, to watch Frankie take you in. The throb of Joel’s cock inside you, his fingers, the tightening knot that threatens to burst already, it’s making it hard to keep your eyes open.

‘That what you want, hermosa?’ Frankie asks.

You nod furiously against the marble, biting back a sob as your knees begin to give way, as you tighten, tighten, tighten, as your core locks down, your pussy growing hotter and wetter. Fuck, all that thinking, all that teasing means the build up has happened so impossibly fast, and you stumble towards the edge of the cliff already, aching for the fall.

‘Just like we said, huh?’ Joel hums. ‘You wanna be watched, don’t ya, baby girl?’

‘Yes - daddy -’ you choke out, and he hums again, this time speaking to Frankie.

‘Hear that? Want you to watch. Be a good boy, and watch.’

Frankie nods quickly, every bit the soldier; his jaw set, eyes black, curls peeking out from under his cap. In this moment, he doesn’t look like your Frankie. He looks cool, almost detached if not for the burning of his eyes. And he watches every movement, every part of your skin Joel touches, everything that is revealed to him, like he’s trying to commit it to absolute memory. The sounds, the way Joel’s cock glistens as it stretches out of you, the breath that is punched from your lungs as he pushes back in. It’s like it’s the first time he’s seen this happen.

But then, you realise, it is.

This is the quiet, obedient Frankie who kneeled behind the door. The Frankie who didn’t move an inch, the Frankie who could do nothing but listen as the three of you fucked each other. The Frankie who curled himself over your hand as he came, hot shocks of arousal and humiliation rocking his body. And now, he gets to watch.

But oh, how you wish he could touch. How you wish he’d come closer, away from the doorframe, how you wish he’d run his hands over your body, undress you, hold you, lick and suck and kiss you, how he could fuck your mouth as Joel fucked your tight cunt until your throat was raw, how you’d take him so deep, as deep as you could, until there would be nothing left, nothing more for you to feel or think about than what went on beyond the two men and you. You watch as his eyes rake over Joel, over you. How they track every movement, the curl of Joel’s fingers against your clit, how you gasp and choke, how Joel grits his teeth as he pounds into you, getting close now, feeling you tighten and leak and flutter around him, bunching your shirt up your back so he can press a hot kiss to your spine.

‘Give it to me,’ he groans, ‘Give it to me, baby, come on. You’ve got it, you can do it. Come for me.’

You heave a broken, high pitched whine at his words, and Frankie’s eyes snap to yours. His lips part in a breath, his only visible reaction, but it’s enough. Like the command has slipped from his lips too, your vision whitens and your back arches, fingers scrabbling against the smooth surface beneath you as you constrict so tightly around Joel you can feel the way you have to stretch again to take him in.

‘Good girl,’ he groans, ‘Such a good girl. So pretty, baby, so good. Now, tell me - tell me where you want it -’

You moan again, eyes flicking back to Frankie when they roll from the back of your skull. The thought crosses your mind, but you can’t find the words, can’t feel your legs, only the grip of Joel's fingers as he changes tack - ‘Tell me, or I’ll decide.’

You gasp out a fuck, forehead pressed against the counter, trying to decide whether you’re brave enough to say it, brave enough to ask -

‘Please -’

But it doesn’t come from you. You roll your head on the marble to find Frankie stepping slowly into the kitchen, cheeks pink, chest rising and falling quickly.

‘I can - let me help -’ Fuck. Fuck. You try to twist to gauge Joel's reaction, but his mind is made up so quickly you only get the chance to feel desperately empty before he tells Frankie to kneel.

The younger man drops to his knees beside you m, in front of Joel, chest heaving now, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously - and you want to kiss him. You want to kiss him so bad, but the thought is quickly whisked away as Joel steps closer, fisting his thick cock in his hand.

‘You want this?’ He grits. Frankie nods eagerly, transfixed by the man above him, eyes flicking between Joel’s and the swollen head of his cock, soaked with your slick and cum, dribbling the precursor of Joel’s own release. ‘Show me.’

Frankie’s mouth falls open instantly, his tongue sliding past his lips to welcome the tip of Joel’s cock. You moan, knees finally giving out, landing next to Frankie. He doesn’t take his eyes off Joel.

The older man gasps out a curse at the sight, before ropes of thick, milky cum spurt from his tip onto Frankie’s tongue, filling his mouth, weaker pulses landing on his chin as Joel squeezes the last of his release out. You tear your eyes from Frankie to the man above you, the way he pants, eyes aflame, jaw slack.

‘Swallow.’

You whip back round to Frankie to see his throat bob as he follows the instruction, and he opens his mouth again to show Joel that he’s done exactly as he asked.

‘Good boy,’ he drawls, swiping a thumb against his chin to collect the remnants of his spend before offering it to you. You open your mouth just as eagerly, but Joel seems to think twice. He spreads it across one cheek, and then the other, painting you, before placing the digit firmly on your tongue, allowing your tongue to lathe the taste of him from the pad. Frankie leans towards you, and then you feel his tongue, warm and wet against your cheek, licking away at the cum that Joel spread there. Joel chuckles at him.

‘Desperate for more.’

Frankie hums against you, tongue now flicking at the corner of your lips. Joel raises an eyebrow at you.

‘What are you waiting for, sweetheart?’ he purrs, ‘Show Frankie how well he did.’

You twist your head to Frankie’s, one hand going to the back of his head, fisting his curls, the other tracing the waistband of his jeans, eager fingers feeling the warm skin there, trying to touch further, trying to reach him. You lick into his mouth, tongue grazing his teeth as you palm him over the denim, and he moans against you. You retract your hand from his curls and start at his fly before a sharp, trilling noise makes you flinch back. His phone rings in his back pocket.

‘Ignore it, don’t worry about it,’ he says, pulling you back towards him, his mouth soft and urgent against yours, your fingers clumsy at the front of his jeans, twisting in the material, against metal, and fuck -

‘Why do you have so many fucking buttons?’

He laughs, breathy, exasperated into your hair.

‘It’s the - it’s the fucking style - there’s no zipper, it’s just buttons -’

You giggle as well, the ringing of his phone chiming off as you hear Joel say ‘just buttons?’ from behind you.

You manage to get two undone before his phone begins to ring again, and this time he breaks the kiss to drag it out off his pocket and silence it. He glances at the screen, hisses a fuck, and bites his bottom lip. You stall your movements, frowning at him.

‘You okay?’

‘One sec -’

He declines the call, but you see he’s missed messages as well. His brow pulls tighter as he reads them, and he scrubs an irritated hand over his face before looking back at you, his eyes dark, apologetic, pissed off.

‘I gotta go,’ he says, forehead knocking against yours before he’s wobbling to his feet, breathless, ‘I gotta - it’s Benny, I don’t know - I don’t know what it is, but -’ His phone pings with another text, and he breathes out a fuck’s sake. ‘I’m sorry -’

‘Hey,’ Joel says softly, and you look back up at him. He still looks as wrecked as before, but he’s straightened himself out and his gaze is softened by concern. Without looking, he holds a hand out to pull you up off the floor, and you gratefully accept, pulling up your jeans. ‘It’s okay, really, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry - what’s happened?’

Frankie relaxes, exhales.

‘Bar fight. Benny and Will were still there when we left. Looks like Benny’s managed to piss the wrong people off.’ he pauses. ‘Again.’

Joel chuckles, lands a hand on his shoulder.

‘Got a little brother just like it. You want us to come with?’

Frankie looks from you to Joel, and shakes his head.

‘No,’ he smiles, ‘Thanks, that’s alright. Can’t be getting distracted on my way there. Won’t be much help in jail.’

You grin at him, straightening his shirt, his curls, and he lets you fuss. You swipe your thumb at the corner of his mouth, and he flushes.

‘Are you sure?’ You ask.

He huffs a laugh, adjusting himself through his jeans, and you pout a little at his discomfort.

‘No,’ he admits, ‘But I’ll be alright. Honestly.’

‘Okay,’ you say, ‘Okay.’

He smiles again, dipping to kiss your cheek before shyly, hesitantly doing the same to Joel. You watch the smile that blooms across the older man’s lips before you find yourself mirroring it.

‘I’ll walk you to your truck.’ Joel says. Frankie nods gratefully, and you hum as Joel squeezes your waist before heading towards the front door.

‘See you next time, baby.’ You murmur to Frankie.

‘Next time.’ He whispers back, grinning and turning to follow Joel. He makes it to the open doorway before you remember.

‘Frankie -’ you call, and he turns, framed by the night behind him. You make a motion at your crotch, and he cocks his head at you. ‘Buttons.’ You stage-whisper, and he laughs as he adjusts himself, refastening the two you managed to get undone.

‘See you soon, hermosa,’ he says softly, and you smile as he follows Joel out to his truck.

You can’t sleep.

You’d bored quickly of tossing and turning, Joel dead to the world beside you, and had slunk downstairs for a glass of water. There’s a niggling feeling in your chest, something left unsatisfied. Guilty that, yet again, Frankie had not been given what he deserved, guilty that you hadn’t had time to see it through. And you just want to know if he’s okay, if he’s safe. You shoot him a text, leant against the marble he had watched you get fucked over less than two hours ago. Just a quick hey, are you okay?

You bite at your thumb, tap out another one - did you get home safe? He replies almost instantly.

Hey. I did. All good. I’m great. Had a great time

Then -

Thank you

You chew your lip a while, frowning, trying to work out if you believe him or not. God, texting sucks. Maybe you should call. You should call, just to check, even though he stayed, even though he watched, even though he said yes, even with the text -

But Frankie takes the decision from you with the next message, a voicenote minutes long. You wind yourself up for whatever it could possibly be, but nothing prepares you for the breathy moan that emanates loudly from your phone, so surprised that you almost drop the device. It’s followed by another, and the slick sound of what you can only assume to be Frankie’s fist fucking his cock, filtered through his quick, hot breaths. You close your eyes in rapt attention, dropping a hand to cup your sex as you listen to him whimper, as you listen to him whisper how good it feels, how he wants you, how he can still taste Joel in his mouth, how he’s about to come, how he’s coming -

It takes you an embarrassingly short amount of time to follow him, chest heaving against the cool marble of the counter top, legs shaky as you stand up right.

There’s not a peep from upstairs. You decide to let Joel sleep this one out.

You’ll send him the audio in the morning.

———

Work is slow, and is only sped up by being, in Joel’s words, an insufferable tease.

You’d bounded around the bedroom this morning, still secretly thrilled with the voicenote from last night, not heeding Joel’s pleas to come back to bed as he watched you don his favourite matching set, stockings, a tight little pencil skirt and blouse, before pressing a deep, lingering kiss to his mouth and floating out the door to work. You made sure to send him a pretty little picture of your dripping cunt on your lunch break, quickly followed by Frankie’s voicenote, and to your delight, receive a video of him coming hard in return.

You bite your lip, squirming at your desk, sure you’ll soak through your skirt when he sends you a follow up message soon after.

You got plans tonight?

No? You shoot back.

Good. Stay free, baby

And oh, you don’t plan on being anything but before he leaves tomorrow.

———

When you get home from work, Joel is waiting.

Waiting conspicuously in a pressed white dress shirt and slacks, a couple buttons undone so you’re greeted with the warm sight of his chest as he opens the door. He looks… divine. And he smells just as good, too. You press your lips to his quickly.

‘You look gorgeous,’ you smile, palm against his chest, one hand on his cheek to smooth the hair of his moustache. ‘What’s the occasion?’

‘Come upstairs,’ he says, smiling. ‘I wanna show you something.’

You raise an eyebrow, all manner of possibilities flashing through your mind before you drop your bag in the hallway and take his outstretched hand.

With one hand on your hip and another over your eyes, Joel guides you towards the bed. His fingers are warm and clammy over your eyelids, and you giggle as you both stumble forwards, the shadow of a bitten laugh trickling into your ear from behind you.

‘What are you doing?’

‘One more second, ‘n you’ll find out.’

Joel brings you to a gentle stop before positioning you at just the angle he wants before taking his hand away from your face. He chuckles to find your eyes still squeezed shut.

‘Open your eyes, baby.’

You blink them open, taking a long moment to realise what it is he’s showing you.

Laid out on the bed is a beautiful short and silken black dress.

A short breath bursts from your lips as you step forwards to take the hem delicately in your fingers.

‘Joel…’ you whisper, accusatory. It feels like water, so luxurious beneath your fingertips that you want to scold him for buying it. But when you turn and find his eyes bright, excited, soft, the guilt dies easily in your chest. ‘It’s beautiful.’

He shrugs, trying to disguise how pleased he is with your reaction.

You step back towards him, taking his face in your hands, pressing kisses anywhere you can.

‘Thank you,’ you murmur, ‘Thank you, baby, thank you. You really didn’t have to, but thank you.’

He scoffs lightly against your lips, hands gripping your hips again.

‘’Course I did,’ he grins. A dirty, secret little thing. ‘You needed something to wear for tonight.’

A worry tugs in your chest. Tonight? Have you forgotten something? Fuck - should you have bought him something, too? It can’t be the anniversary of anything, you haven’t even -

As though he’s read your thoughts, Joel pulls you closer, one hand drifting lower to palm your ass.

‘We’re going on a date.’

‘A date?’

Mhm, he hums against your mouth.

‘Surprise date.’

‘You bought this for a date?’

You give him your most serious look, head tilted, movements stilled. Pink flushes up from beneath his shirt collar.

‘Yeah, darlin’. Special dress for a special girl.’

You frown a little.

‘Where are we going where I’ll need to dress like that?’

Joel bites his lip.

‘Nice restaurant. We’re all getting dressed up.’

‘All?’

Joel extracts himself from your fingers, moving to fix his slicked back hair.

‘Joel. All?’

He shrugs again, looks at you over his shoulder in the mirror.

‘I had some help choosing the dress.’

Fuck. Fuck. Heat flashes between your thighs so quickly that you sit down heavily on the edge of the mattress. Joel smirks at you through the glass as you try and regulate your breathing. Your heart thrums in your chest as the thoughts clash through your head - Frankie on his knees behind the door, his wide, hungry eyes, Frankie on his knees in front of Joel, the drip of your cunt onto the floor, the full, overwhelming feeling of Joel claiming you after Santi, Santi’s fingers on your jaw, you look at your daddy when you come for me -

Joel squats down in front of you, his knees popping, two fingers lifting your chin.

‘Need to get ready, sugar,’ he drawls, ‘Rude to keep the boys waiting.’

You suck in a hot breath, eyes glazed, body warm and fluid already.

‘Are - are they coming back here?’

‘Not tonight,’ he murmurs. ‘Want you to myself before I head out in the morning.’

He stands as you blink up at him, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth

‘Soon, baby,’ he reassures, ‘You’ll have us soon.’

———

Joel holds your hand as you descend the marble steps into the sunken restaurant. It’s gorgeous - classy - maybe a little too much, but you can’t find the wherewithal to care when he leads you to your table. Frankie and Santi are already seated and looking equally as handsome. They stand as you approach, Frankie flushing as he takes you in, kissing your cheek, Pope letting out a low whistle as he does the same.

You talk over glasses of wine, nibbles of bread, and your starter course; conversation often interrupted by anecdotes and jokes and observations of other patrons that definitely could have waited til later. Joel fills the boys in on the contract he’ll be away on up in Tulsa until late next week, and Pope says he will be flying back to Colombia for a few days to straighten out a couple loose ends with his last contract. You frown at him, having not been aware of this most recent development, but he’s quick to assure you that it is just that. Paperwork and documents he needs to ensure can be sealed away, picking up a couple of things from the Embassy, catching up with a couple of old colleagues, and then heading home. The boys never really talk about exactly what went down those years ago when they lost Tom, and frankly you’re not sure if you want to know. From what they have said, it was rash, greedy, and all but fucked from the start. Not something you’re particularly keen on imagining. But you’re glad that, this time, he’ll be safe and keeping away from it.

Joel and Santi share a glance over your head, and you realise you should have known. Should have known they’d be plotting and scheming.

It doesn’t take as long as it did the first time to set out the rules.

With the older men away, you and Frankie are free to spend your time as you see fit. Neither of you need to be looked after, neither of you need to be kept an eye on, but Santi and Joel phrase the opportunity to spend time together as more of a challenge. To see how you can work each other up, how well you can behave without either of them there to tell you what to do and how to do it. You’re grinning into your wine as you imagine it, all of the things you can do without actually fucking, until Joel halts your train of thought.

‘There’s one rule,’ he says. You pause mid-sip. He spears a piece of asparagus with his fork, bringing it to his mouth. ‘You can’t touch each other.’

You swallow, confused, looking across to Frankie, who is suddenly unable to meet your eye, and then to Pope, who watches the two of you with a cruelly delighted smirk.

‘We - what?’ You ask, confused.

‘Can’t touch,’ Joel says again, ‘’s your only rule. Dinner, drinks, movies, hell, sleepin’ in the same bed is fine. You just can’t touch.’

You stare at him. This is it. He’s lost his damn mind.

‘Little challenge for you, baby girl,’ he says, ‘I know Frankie can do it. This one’s for you.’

You open your mouth, about to protest how that can’t possibly be fair before snapping your jaw closed again. Joel watches, amused. This is not an argument you will win.

‘Fine.’ You say, even as Santi snickers at the fact that it’s evidently not. You decide on a change of tact. ‘And myself?’ Frankie finally looks up at you, eyes wide. Your lips curl in a pleased smile as Santi takes a steadying sip of his drink.

‘You can touch yourself, darlin’’ Joel says, unfazed, ‘Never said you couldn’t do that.’

You nod, gears turning. An idea forming, one you tamp down by resting your hand on Joel’s thigh.

‘Was Benny okay last night?’ You ask Frankie, changing the subject. Your fingers begin their slow and steady stroke up and down Joel’s thigh as you watch the younger man flush.

‘Yeah,’ he nods, ‘He was only arrested for starting a bar fight -’

Your hand pauses only briefly on Joel’s thigh.

‘He was arrested?’

Frankie grins.

‘Yep. Not the first time. One day he might learn his lesson.’

You chuckle along with Joel and Santi.

‘Was he okay?’

‘Always is,’ Frankie says, ‘Lucky motherfucker. You should see the other guy.’

You smile, scraping your nails along Joel’s pants now, pleased when he shifts in his seat. He leans in close to your ear.

‘Knock it off, princess. I know exactly what you’re tryna do.’

You raise an eyebrow at him.

‘Never said I couldn’t touch you, daddy.’

You turn back to face Frankie, and he eyes you suspiciously.

‘Don’t miss those days,’ Joel says, and Frankie’s eyes flick to him. ‘Tommy straightened out once he met Maria. Think the worst time I had to bail him out was the night’a my 36th birthday. He near caused a riot at some bar downtown. They still won't let him back in.’

‘Can imagine Tommy raining hell down on ‘em,’ Pope says, beside you. ‘He and Benny would make a hell of a team.’

Joel chuckles.

‘Sure would,’ he says, and you slide your palm over to cup him through his pants. He’s rock hard, cock twitching at your touch. But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t falter. ‘She made him into a better man, my sister-in-law. Keeps him far outta trouble.’

His hand finds your own thigh beneath the table, squeezing as Santi begins to regale a story from his younger days with the boys. He starts the same ministrations as you, stroking, scraping, higher and higher, up to where you’re dripping, soaking yourself -

‘Joel.’ You whisper, something urgent in your voice. Why isn’t he stopping?

You’re suddenly nervous at the fact you’d decided to forego any underwear for the sake of the dress, before realising that is exactly what Joel had wanted. Like he knew you’d be running your hand up and down his thigh at the table, like he knew you’d be teasing him. Like he knew he could not only tease right back, but win the whole damn game. Smug bastard. He can read you like a book.

He leans in close to murmur into the conch of your ear.

‘Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby,’ as he pushes your dress higher to cup your sex. You clench your jaw as he chuckles underneath his breath, feeling how wet you are, how much more slick spills out at the pressure he applies.

His fingers move up to circle your clit gently, and you let out a shaky breath. You watch him from the corner of your eye, his chin in his fist, eyes sparkling as he listens to and watches the two other men, as his movements against your cunt grow firmer, faster. You reach for your wine glass, eyes flicking to Frankie, only to find him looking at you, eyes bright with amusement. You narrow your eyes, and Joel leans in again.

‘Good girl, he says, ‘You’re gonna keep looking at Frankie, and I’m gonna make you come like this. And next time, you’re not gonna play any of your games in the middle of a restaurant.’

You grit your teeth against the whimper that fights to escape as quiet falls at the table, the conversation quickly forgotten as Frankie leans back in his chair, smirking, watching intensely. You don’t break eye contact as Santi’s hand drifts to the soft flesh of your thigh, drawing goosebumps as it nears Joel’s, as he traces the seam of your cunt, smearing the wetness around your skin. You don’t even look when Pope brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking the tips before releasing them with a lewd pop.

‘Good enough to eat.’

Your cunt throbs in response, breathing coming more laboured as Joel’s fingers work you tighter, tighter, slipping away to hook your thigh out wider, only to be replaced by Santi’s. Once he’s satisfied with your new position, he slips his hand beneath Pope’s, working the digits easily into your pussy, pumping in and out, curling to find that sweet spot within you. A small, desperate noise escapes you, and you set your glass down, your drink forgotten as you clutch at the napkin closest to you, body burning, buzzing, throbbing with pleasure. It’s too much, and it’s not enough.

You break eye contact with Frankie, holding your breath and biting your lip so hard you’re sure you’ll either pass out or draw blood.

‘No, baby,’ Joel rumbles into your hair, ‘Keep looking at Frankie. He’s gonna watch you come like this.’ You moan quietly again, meeting Frankie’s eyes, hot and close, so close.

Santi leans in so you can feel his hot breath against your cheek, goading, teasing -

‘Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.’

Your orgasm clatters through you, the tightly bound knot bursting as you lean forward onto the table, trying to stop your body from twitching. You feel yourself tighten and clench around Joel’s fingers, feel your thighs grow wetter, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Pope looses a quiet groan. The fire and heat of it make it almost impossible to keep quiet, a moan slipping past your lips as Joel retracts his fingers too quickly to pat you on the back in some kind of misleading gesture. Santi keeps his fingers pressed to your clit for as long as possible, letting you ride it out, before circling it again.

A gasped fuck passes your lips, and you slam your fist down onto the table, clattering the silverware and glasses. The action draws a chuckle from Santi and Joel, and sharp looks from the two tables closest to you.

You cough a little, trying to affect the pretence of choking, spluttering, anything that doesn’t look like you just came in the middle of a restaurant.

When you haul your body back to sit upright, Joel moves his hand to your thigh, and Santi follows suit. Their fingers are wet against you, and you try not to look, try not to feel it, but it’s impossible. The slick feeling, the heat, the pressure. You could go again.

But, god, your throat is so dry.

As if on cue, the waitress appears at your shoulder to refill your water. You try to clear your throat to express your gratitude before noticing the deep red flush clawing up her neck, her gaze drawn to each hand still splayed on your thigh, dress rucked a little higher than it should be. You smile sheepishly at her, finally whisper a thank you.

When she leaves the table, you heave a deep breath, your head in your hands.

‘Almost.’ Joel whispers in your ear.

You resist the urge to flip him off, and instead decide the best way to get a hold of yourself is to head to the bathroom. Clean yourself up, splash a little cold water on your face.

‘Excuse me,’ you murmur, voice hoarse and strained, and Frankie can’t help the smile that reaches his eyes. Looking to Joel and Santi, it appears they feel the same way. You grin despite yourself as you stand on unsteady legs, Joel’s hands shooting out to steady you as you giggle at the three of them, enjoying their favourite game.

‘Fuck you guys,’ you laugh as you turn on your heel, and they mirror your chuckles.

You’re almost to the door of the restroom when your waitress catches your eye. You try to smile at her and glide past without drawing any more attention to yourself, but fail.

‘Ma’am,’ she calls softly, stepping just in front of you. Your stomach twists. Fuck, she knows. She knows, and she’s gonna kick you all out, you’re gonna get arrested - ‘Are you alright?’

You blink at her, surprised. And then it clicks. One woman, surrounded by three men. The hands on your thighs, your dress. Three men who have been talking intently, possessively, obviously, even if they can’t be heard. You exhale.

‘Oh no, it’s - yes. Thank you for checking. That’s - really kind of you. I’m fine. We’re friends - I mean - it’s complicated - but it’s nothing to worry about.’

It’s complicated? Why the fuck did you say that? You twist your fingers as you try and work out how to extricate yourself from the hole you’ve dug, but your mind draws a blank. You pray she missed your phrasing, her eyes searching your face as you give her your warmest smile. It’s only a moment before she returns it, even brighter.

‘Oh, like a - what is it - a polyamorous thing? That’s neat. You get it, cowgirl,’ she grins, before clapping a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh my god,’ she gasps, ‘I’m so sorry, that was so unprofessional -’

You laugh, somewhat relieved, placing a gentle hand on her arm - it soothes her.

‘No, please,’ you giggle, ‘It’s fine, really.’

She peels her fingers back from her lips nervously and massages her temples.

‘I don’t know what came over me,’ she whispers, before meeting your eye again. ‘I’m sorry. But as long as you’re good. You know, taken care of.’ You watch as she cringes at herself. You reach out again to press her bicep.

‘Really, it’s fine,’ you say, glancing back to your table. You feel… warm as you look over at the three of them - relaxed, laughing. Warm at how easily you can all move back and forth in this dynamic. Warm at the feel of the slick around the tops of your legs. ‘I’m very well taken care of. And it’s really good of you to check.’

She smiles at you again as you step away towards the bathroom.

‘Oh, not at all,’ she says, bashful. ‘I’m glad. You guys have fun.’

The rest of the night passes easily, wrapped in conversation and good food. Jokes are whipped across the table so fast that the four of you cackle with laughter, the air sizzling with good humour and lightness. Joel has his hands on you whenever he can, and when you finally leave the restaurant just before closing time, Pope holds you tenderly, kisses both cheeks, and murmurs that he hopes you learned your lesson. You smack his arm and tell him to be safe in Colombia. Frankie does the same, but departs with a remark about how beautiful you looked instead - ‘especially when you come, hermosa’ he adds.

Joel makes sure you remember what he taught you at the table, taking the time to rock you through orgasm after orgasm in his bed until you’re in tears, until he’s sure the neighbours can hear you calling yes daddy, thank you daddy, I’m sorry daddy over the lawn.

He pulls you close afterwards, pressing kisses to any slither of skin he can, telling you how well you did, how proud you make him, how good you can be when you try. He only leaves to head through to the bathroom to turn on the shower, making you promise to join him when you can rouse yourself from the snuggly duvet. You don’t take much convincing.

Once you can hear him humming under the flow of water, you pad downstairs to the bag you’d left in the hallway yesterday. You root around in it before finding what you need, clutching it to your chest with a thrill before retreating back to Joel’s bedroom. You bury it in his suitcase, underneath at least a day’s worth of clothes, before stripping and joining him in the shower.

———

When you wake the next morning, Joel’s suitcase is already zipped shut, and the smell of coffee is drifting up the stairs.

You find him sat at the breakfast table, staring out into the weak morning sunshine, a steaming mug already set down for you across from him. You drift past him, a hand trailing from one shoulder, over his broad back, to the next, tracing the lines of your favourite plaid shirt, before pressing a kiss to his temple.

You sit quietly in each other’s company, the silence slowly turning to low conversation. What route he’ll be taking, where he’ll be staying, what the job will involve, what the people are like. What your work week looks like, what the book you’re reading is about, what you’ll do with him gone. You settle your chin on your palm.

‘Any other rules I should know about?’

Joel looks back at you with amusement written all over his face.

‘No. Jus’ don’t try anything at dinner again. Or do. I’m always happy to remind you.’

You giggle, and he grins back, all white teeth and crinkly eyes.

‘You know, even the waitress asked if I was okay afterwards.’

He grunts, enough of a question in it for you to continue.

‘I mean, I don’t think she saw anything go down. But she saw me with you guys and asked if I was okay.’

Joel raises his eyebrows.

‘What do you mean?’

You falter.

‘I guess… you know. Me, with you guys. Just making sure nothing - weird was going on.’

‘Weird?’

‘Bad.’ You say. Joel’s eyes soften, but his brow furrows.

‘I said no, of course. That we’re all friends. I don’t know. I rambled. She asked - she asked whether it was a polyamorous thing,’ you shrug.

‘’N what did you say?’

Something about the way Joel asks the question catches you off guard. A little brusque, a little too quick off his tongue. Your eyes narrow slightly.

‘Nothing,’ you admit, ‘I didn’t want to get into the semantics of what we do with a stranger. And - I don’t know what to call it. I don’t know if that is what it is.’

‘It something you’re interested in?’

You blink at him. He’s not looking at you, his jaw set, body tense. You feel your own jaw clench.

‘Is it something you’re interested in?’

Joel chews the side of his cheek, brow knitted as he looks out to the garden into the morning sunlight.

‘I don’t know,’ he says, ‘Not really thought about it before.’

You soften at the way his body deflates. Remember this is just as fresh for him as it is for you. You nod, reach out to take his massive hand in yours. His eyes swing back to you, and you squeeze his fingers.

‘You don’t have to think about it,’ you reassure him, ‘All of this is new. All of it. And if you want to talk about it, we’ll talk about it. But -’ you say, reaching to hold his other hand, too, ‘I want you to know none of it changes how I feel about you. You are enough for me. You will always be enough for me.’

Joel searches your face, quiet and serious. You lift his hands to your lips and press a tender kiss to his knuckles.

‘I love you.’ You say, softly.

There’s no sound through the quiet dawn of the world but a quiet intake of breath from Joel across the table. Your eyes flick up to him at the sound, to the brows slightly further up his tan forehead, his wide, surprised, brown eyes. And you realise that it’s slipped from you, aloud, for the first time. All that time spent thinking it, knowing it, feeling it, but those words in that order have been yet to pass either of your lips. In the conversations between sharing spaces, meeting families, spending time with friends, you’d forgotten to put into words what you’d assumed Joel already knew.

I love you.

You still, his hands unmoving before your lips, releasing a quiet exhale of your own.

‘I love you,’ you say again, even softer. And then, through heat rising in your chest - ‘You don’t have to say it back. If you’re not ready yet - you don’t have to ever say it back if you don’t want to -’

He grips your hands tight.

‘I love you.’ he says, gravelly and warm. And you believe him. See it in all its molten gold truth in his eyes. I love you.

You can’t help the delighted little laugh that falls from your lips. The same sound slips from Joel, and you sit, giggling and grinning at each other, in love, unaware of the minutes that tick by. You bite your lip.

‘Does that mean you’re my boyfriend now?’

Joel baulks at you, laughter frozen on his lips. Your heart squeezes, joy almost overtaken by nerves.

‘You mean - did I never ask you that?’

You shake your head slowly.

Joel sucks a breath in through his teeth. Something passes over his features; embarrassment, shame -

‘I’m sorry,’ he says lowly, a flush colouring his cheeks, ‘I’m sorry - I just - I assumed -’ he ducks his head away from you, ‘What an ass -’

You giggle at him, and he fixes you with his best puppy dog eyes.

‘Joel,’ you smile, ‘It’s okay, honestly -’

But he shakes his head.

‘No,’ he winces, ‘Sarah would be - so disappointed in me if she knew. She -’ he fixes you with an apologetic stare again, ‘She knew I loved you before you did. My God. And Tommy - Tommy would be wringing my neck, and my Momma - she raised me better than this -’

‘Joel,’ you laugh, standing from your chair to circle the table. Instinctively, he spreads his thighs for you to sit, and you settle down onto him, your legs perpendicular to his. You thread your arms around his neck, holding him close, and a warm palm comes to pet the small of your back. ‘Relax. Please don’t worry about it,’ you press a kiss to the patch in his beard, and he leans his head into you, eyes closed. ‘Besides. I kinda assumed it, too.’

His eyes open, so full of warmth, love.

‘Well,’ he says, ‘Do ya wanna be my girlfriend?’

You huff a laugh into his neck, resting on his shoulder.

‘Baby,’ you tease, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

You spend a little while longer like that, curled up in his lap like a cat, sharing kisses and giggles, until Joel checks his watch and sighs. You clamber off him and follow him upstairs, leaning against the doorframe as he makes his final checks.

‘Joel,’ you call softly, hesitating. You cringe in the doorway. ‘Is it - seeing Frankie for dinner tonight, is that - is that still okay?’

He smiles and steps towards you, gathering you in his arms.

‘You know what the limits are,’ he says into your hair. ‘I trust you. ’F I didn’t want you to do something, you’d have known about it before dinner. ’Sides,’ he says, ‘You’ll look good together at that table. I’ll be thinkin’ bout it while I’m away.’

You snort and rest your forehead against his chest, breathing his scent in.

‘Just wanted to check.’ You mumble. Joel presses a kiss to your hair, rocking you side to side.

‘I love you.’ He says.

‘Love you too.’ You whisper.

Minutes later, you watch his truck peel away from the house, waving through the rays of sunlight now peeking out from the trees. He waves back, his arm out the driver’s side window, until the truck disappears from view. You swallow the lump in your throat, wash the coffee mugs, gather your clothes, and lock Joel’s front door behind you.

———

Joel calls you later in the afternoon to let you know he’s arrived safe. And Frankie texts to let you know he’s picking you up at seven.

When you get home from work, you busy yourself with a shower, with laundry you’ve held off, with tidying the house, and when you’re settled, ready, you call Joel again. Just to hear his voice, just to know he’s eaten. He chuckles a melody down the line at your fussing, but before he has to hang up, he lets slip that he misses you already, just as much.

When seven rolls around, you feel warm, giddy, nerves fluttering in your stomach as you wait for the sound of tyres outside.

Frankie greets you at your door, relaxed in a t-shirt that strains across his arms, his signature cap, and a beaming smile. You melt a little at the sight of him, so boyish, so bashful, so handsome, that you have to forcefully remind yourself of the rules. No touching, which must surely extend to no kissing. Still, as though he can’t help himself, he keeps a palm on the small of your back as he leads you into the small restaurant he’s chosen and plays with your fingers while you’re sat at your table.

You eat and talk, laughing and smiling like you always do. He asks about work, the projects you’re working on, and you fill him in on all the office gossip. How one of the line managers got fired last week, how Trisha from accounting is pregnant. He asks question after question until you laugh and remind him that you want to talk about him as well, and he flushes shyly. You ask about Lucia, about work, about flying again. He tells you about the places he’s been, the people he’s taken there, and one nightmare trip from last week where one woman refused to get in the helicopter, too scared to fly, until she had to be told that it was part of the proposal her boyfriend had planned.

You order gelato for dessert and share it with two spoons, giggling as you feed it to each other. You both get a text from Santi, a selfie of him sipping a beer, looking warm and delicious. You get a text from Joel, too, a picture of him straight out of the shower which sets your cunt throbbing, hoping you’re having a good night.

Frankie insists on settling the check and walks you back to his truck with a warm palm still on your skin. He opens the door for you, waiting for you to settle in your seat before he shuts it and crosses to the driver’s side.

He drives you to a spot overlooking the city, and you stay in the cab, seatbelts unbuckled, turned towards each other, swapping stories like teenagers at a sleepover. You try not to think too hard as the night settles in around you. Try not to watch his hands, his thick fingers, the way his arms bunch and flex, how strong his thighs look, how good he smells. But it’s so hard, so hard when he’s right across from you, smiling, eyes trailing over your body, getting caught on your lips, watching the way your limbs are draped in his truck. The way he’s looking at you makes it hard to remember the rules, hard to resist leaning over the console and pressing your mouth to his, especially when he lowly confesses how badly he wants to kiss you.

You huff a breathless laugh, looking away from him out to the shimmering skyline outside the window screen. Try to distract yourself with how the distant lights of the city shimmer like moonlight on water, how the structures of the skyscrapers reach up to the night flights swooping over the horizon. Something as far away from your body as possible, so you don’t have to think about Frankie’s warm, broad chest, what he would sound like moaning against you.

‘I wish you would,’ You whisper. When you turn back to look at Frankie, he is already watching you. Pressed against the driver’s side door, mouth slightly open, his eyes sparkling and dark. ‘You could kiss me.’

His mouth closes with a gentle snap of his teeth, and he shakes his head.

‘You know I can’t do that.’

You nod, eyes finding the skyline again.

‘I know. But I still wish you would.’

In the silence that follows, you can feel slick drooling and cooling from your cunt, soaking your panties. You shift in your seat, unsure whether you’re trying to ignore or resolve the discomfort. Frankie watches you still, and when you wriggle again, his own hips shift. You fix him with a stare, the air hot and thick between you. You curve your body towards him, one hand coming down gently to hold yourself over the console.

‘They wouldn’t know. If we kissed.’

Frankie continues to stare as you remain frozen, poised before him.

‘I know.’

‘Then let me kiss you.’

‘No, hermosa.’

You look back and forth between his eyes and his lips, watching his throat bob as he tries to keep his distance.

You slump backwards a little, trying not to feel any kind of acute rejection. You’re just hot, bothered, unbearably aroused in the cabin of his truck. His refusing to kiss you isn’t a mark on his desire, just his self control. Muscle memory of years of following instructions. Frankie turns his body, facing forward out the windscreen in his seat. He swipes his palms over the steering wheel, and your lips part, cunt burning when you imagine those hands on you again, huge palms sweeping down your curves, your thighs, up between your legs -

‘I’m not gonna kiss you, because then I’ll need to fuck you.’

Your gasp zips past your lips before you can stop it. Frankie keeps his eyes trained forwards as you stare at him. Your pussy clenches around nothing, needing something to sate it, a touch, a glance, anything -

‘Frankie -’

He shakes his head, grip tightening on the wheel.

‘Please, Frankie, I’ll be so good -’

‘Enough.’

You watch his nostrils flare, watch a muscle in his jaw tick. Watch a certain darkness sweep over his features, and you know, you know you’ve won.

He never stood a chance.

‘Tell me,’ you whisper, and he shakes his head, skull pressed into the headrest, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. ‘I want you to tell me. Tell me how you’d fuck me.’

Frankie closes his eyes slowly, his shoulders tensing, breath faltering.

‘No,’ he whispers, ‘No, baby, I can’t do that -’

You whine, hands scrubbing down your bare thighs, trying to find something to grip, to hold, something that’s not him -

‘God - it aches, Frankie,’ you whine, wriggling in the seat, and his eyes flick back and forth over you; your pathetic attempts to grind into something, the heaving of your chest, the wild, desperate look in your eyes.

‘What, baby? What aches?’ He breathes, and he’s tilting forwards towards the centre console like he could pounce on you, like he could hold your hands in a tight, binding grip behind your back, like he could eat you here, devour you here -

You whimper by way of an answer, hands finally resting on the hem of your skirt, pushing it up, up to rest at your hips. Frankie watches, eyes molten and black as you cup yourself, as you grind against your hand. He moans loudly at the sight.

‘There, hermosa?’

You shudder out a sigh, a hissed yes as you apply more pressure. His throat bobs as he considers, as he weighs his options.

‘Please, Frankie -’ you beg, though you’re not sure what for. Rules, rules, but none of them seem to make sense anymore, none of them seem to matter as you lick your own lips at his growing bulge in his jeans. He breathes in harshly, swiping a palm across his mouth before he fixes you with a look that makes you feel dizzy. He swallows thickly.

‘Show me.’

It's easy, so easy. You lift your hips from the seat and slide your thumbs under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down, down, watching him the whole time. He waits like he’s forgotten how to breathe, this starving, tortured look in his eyes like he’s dying of thirst and water is just out of reach. You spread your legs for him and dip your fingers to your slit, gathering the slickness there before trailing the digits further up, spreading yourself in a v shape so he can see everything, see how you throb, how your clit twitches, how you leak down into the cleft of your ass.

‘Need you, Frankie,’ you whine, ‘Need you to -’

He lurches back like he’s been shocked.

‘Don’t,’ he grits, ‘Don’t, you know I can’t touch you -’

‘Then watch,’ you breathe, ‘He said don’t touch. But you can watch. I can watch.’

‘Watch?’ he repeats, breathless, body shifting, open, and you nod, rutting against your palm.

‘Yeah,’ you murmur, ‘Frankie, baby, let me watch you. Need to see you.’

He stares at you, something working behind his eyes.

‘Watch,’ he says again, nodding, ‘Yeah, please baby, is that okay? Can I watch?’

You nod, relishing in the control that he shifts so easily to you. You trace the swollen lips of your pussy, spreading the glistening wetness so it catches every stream of moonlight bruising through the window.

‘You, too. Wanna watch you, too.’

He nods quickly, mouth agape, unable to tear his eyes away from your core. He palms himself roughly over his jeans.

You trace your fingers back over your clit, swiping it in circles until your head falls back against the window, your brows pulling together as you loose a quiet cry. You bite your lip, looking down your nose at him.

‘Is it good?’ he gasps, ‘Please - tell me - how does it feel?’

‘Good,’ you moan, ‘So fucking good, Frankie.’

He groans, his hands finding his button and zipper, undoing them before shifting his hips to pull his jeans down. He reaches inside his boxers to pull himself free, swollen and leaking.

He’s thick, and just as big as you knew he would be - but he’s so pretty as well. The same tan as his skin, pink flush at his tip, skin silken, blue veins just hidden beneath the surface. You moan, wanton and crooning, sinking a finger into yourself as he grips his base, squeezing at the sight of your digit disappearing up to the knuckle.

Your hips lift as he begins to fuck himself slowly with his fist, lips wet and eyes blown, his other hand coming away from scratching at the denim of his thigh to cup his balls. You go slow for him as he watches, working your bud in agonisingly steady circles, pumping your finger in and out gently until you remove it completely, Frankie’s eyes drawn to the strand of slick suspended from your finger. He moans, a sick, feral sound, his head falling back against the seat to expose the straining muscles in his neck, the sweat that glimmers in the hollows before his clavicles. He jerks himself faster, tighter - tip ruddy now, beading with precum that he swipes down the length of his shaft, slick enough for you to imagine that it’s your spit, your wetness. A surge of arousal floods your fingers again, and you whimper.

‘Look at you, Frankie. So pretty.’

Frankie answers with his own choked moan as he watches you sink your finger into your heat again, but this time he grits his teeth, inhaling sharply before endowing you with an instruction -

‘Give yourself more, hermosa. Another. Know you need it, baby.’

You comply, sinking in another finger easily, rocking your hips back and forth, the sound of it obscene, loud in the quiet around you, and Frankie squeezes himself, breathless.

‘Fuck, hermosa, you’re so wet - so wet. Does that feel good?’

You nod frantically, speeding up your movements until Frankie matches your rhythm, his body tense, his tip turning a beautiful shade of crimson. You whimper again. This soft, sweet man, reduced to this savage across from you, fisting himself, reeling himself back from the edge just to wait to come with you.

You watch as his eyes drop to your cunt again, as a grunt wrenches itself from his chest, and he begs you - more, please, hermosa. You oblige, sliding another of your fingers into your dripping cunt just to catch a glimmer of what he’d feel like inside of you. Your orgasm flexes, tight and searing inside of you, and you whine.

‘Close, so close, Frankie -’ you pant, and his eyes widen, fist working so furiously you wonder whether it hurts, whether he likes it like that. He groans deep in his throat.

‘Make yourself come, baby, please make yourself come. I need to watch you come.’ And you obey, seizing, pussy gripping your fingers, body curling in on itself as you come, teeth clenched to bite back your scream. Frankie falls slack in his seat, eyes glazed as his cock jerks in his grip, and you meet his eyes, gasping out -

‘Frankie - want you to come, come for me, baby boy -’ and he erupts over his hands, over the tops of his thighs and his belly with a whine, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You watch his spend trickle over his knuckles, saliva pooling in your mouth at the sight, and your fingers twitch as you pull them from inside you. You are so close to reaching out and taking it on your own fingertips to swipe against your lips, and it’s like Frankie reads your mind -

‘I want to taste you. So fucking bad.’ he gasps, gaze fixed on your shining fingers. You bring them to your mouth, tongue sweeping between the digits, beneath your nails, moaning at your own salty sweet taste. Frankie groans again, tugging his spent cock weakly if only to stop himself from reaching out to snatch your wrist to him.

‘I promise,’ you murmur between licks, ‘I promise - soon, baby - God, so soon -’

You suck your middle finger into your mouth, keeping your eyes locked with his, before releasing it with a lewd pop. Frankie looks physically pained.

‘Stop,’ he pants, ‘Just - stop. I need you to stop.’

You understand, whole body still at fever pitch despite your release. Your hands fall to your thighs. Frankie tucks himself back into his boxers and lifts his hips to fix his jeans before popping open the driver’s side door.

‘Just - give me a moment.’ He murmurs as he jumps out, leaving the door open behind him. You watch as he walks circles in the dirt beside the car, his hands on the back of his head, breathing like he’s run a marathon. It takes a minute for your own brain to catch up with you. You tug your panties back up and your skirt down, some kind of horrible anxiety, disappointment and desperation clawing up your throat. You swallow and pop your own door open, rounding the truck to find Frankie.

The air has done him good. His eyes are clearer, body more relaxed, and he watches you approach with an expression that softens at every step. He barely gets out a you oka- before you rush to him with open arms, crashing into his chest with a quiet mmph. Frankie wraps his arms around you just as quickly, rocking the two of you back and forth, swooping a palm down your back.

‘I’m sorry.’ You whisper. Frankie stops his swaying, gives your shoulder a little squeeze.

‘Why are you apologising, princesa?’ he asks, so sweet you have to swallow again before answering.

‘I don’t know,’ you murmur, ‘That was supposed to feel good, but I don’t - I don’t know how I feel -’

He holds you tighter as tears threaten in your eyes, and you will yourself not to blink, lest they fall.

‘S’okay,’ he whispers back, ‘Might be ‘cause you want it so bad,’ you feel the rumble of a chuckle ripple through his chest. ‘That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I still feel like I could rip my skin off.’

A sharp laugh bubbles out of your mouth, taking you by surprise. You blink and the tears begin to fall, and you laugh harder. The man might be right.

‘This is so weird,’ you chuckle against his chest, ‘I’ve never been so horny I’ve cried before.’

He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your head.

‘It’s okay,’ he says, ‘And it’s not weird. Feels like my brain will never work the same again.’

You laugh harder, sniffing as you pull away from him. He grins down at you, pinches your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

‘Home?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, Frankie,’ you smile, ‘Take me home.’

Frankie holds your hand over the centre console the whole way home. You’re too tired to think about the semantics of rules, too overwhelmed to wonder what Joel or Santi would say. You grant yourself a small mercy in the passenger seat, reminding yourself that this is okay. This is aftercare. It’s necessary, Joel grumbles in your ear, it doesn’t come with rules.

When Frankie pulls up outside your place, he hops out to make sure he can the truck door for you and help you down. He walks you to your front door like he’d done so many moons ago, ever the gentleman, and waits until the door is unlocked and you’ve flicked the hallway light on.

You turn to face him, wrapping yourself around him again. He returns the hug.

‘Will you call me if you need anything?’

‘Yeah,’ you breathe, ‘Will you?’

‘’course,’ he swipes the back of his hand over your cheek, and dips to press a soft, firm kiss to your forehead. ‘See you tomorrow, baby.’ He says. You pinch his cheek as he pulls away, chuckling as he bounds back down the path.

You watch his truck peel away like a teenager, standing in the doorway smiling to yourself until his tail lights disappear around the corner.

———

When Joel calls not fifteen minutes later, you’re wearing one of his shirts, grinding your bare pussy into your pillow, fingers working steadily against your clit.

You fumble with your phone, taking longer than usual to swipe to answer the call, and if that hadn’t have given you away, your pants and whimpers do. Joel chuckles warmly down the line at you.

At his ‘how you doing, baby girl?’, your mouth curves in a shy smile, and a heat blossoms in your chest. Your ‘good, daddy’ is true, a kind of peace settling over your frazzled body and mind. You let out a cooing moan before you can ask how his day’s been, and his breath catches down the line.

‘And what are you doing, baby girl?’ he asks softly, so soft, and you smile even wider.

‘Thinkin’ bout you, daddy.’ You breathe, and he hums at your words.

‘Just me?’

‘Mostly.’ You confess, and he chuckles, a honeyed sound.

‘Mostly,’ he echoes, ‘And what are you using while you’re thinking about me, baby?’

You give a strong roll of your hips, grinding down as you answer him.

‘A pillow, daddy.’

‘Mhm. Just a pillow?’

You whine.

‘Fingers, too.’

‘Greedy fuckin’ girl,’ he chuckles. You moan loudly, and are rewarded with a low grunt in return. He listens to you breathe for a moment before you hear the crackle of him shifting, moving.

‘Stop now,’ he says, gently. ‘Need to ask you somethin’.’

You pull your fingers out of your cunt, whining as you do. You can picture his smirk so clearly that you tell him to knock it off.

‘Sorry baby.’ He apologises, so disingenuous.

‘What’s the question?’

‘I found something. In my case,’ he says. ‘Don’t suppose you’d know who put it there?’

You bite your lip.

‘Hmmm. Depends. What is it?’

You hear Joel fumble with something before he speaks again.

‘Let’s see. One of ‘em… pocket pussy things.’

‘Huh. No idea. Must have been your other girlfriend.’

He laughs.

‘Motherfucker. You damn well I can’t handle another one of you.’

You grin at your reflection. If you had a cord phone, you’d be twirling the plastic around your finger right now. Girlfriend.

‘My bad. Must have been me, then.’

‘Causing trouble even from all the way over there, huh, angel?’

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s drawing it out.

‘Sure, daddy,’ you coo. There’s a beat. ‘Have you… tried it?’

He huffs, and you can see the frown in your mind. How you’d smooth your fingers over it.

‘Ain’t need it when I’ve got you.’

‘Even when you’re far away?’

There’s a pause as Joel considers his reply.

‘You feelin’ sorry for me or somethin’?’

You sigh, letting your fingers dip to your clit. He won’t know, so long as you’re quiet.

‘Couldn’t just - leave you out, daddy,’ you huff against the phone.

A low chuckle rumbles through from the other end, and you bite your lip.

‘So this is - what? My consolation prize?’

‘No,’ you frown, ‘It’s better than that. Better than your hand.’

‘Better ‘n my hand?’

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘Is it better than you, babygirl?’

You roll your hips at his question, biting back a whine.

‘No, daddy.’

He hums down the line.

‘Sounds like a consolation prize to me, honey.’

You sigh again, louder this time.

‘’S not a consolation prize,’ you groan. ‘Frankie isn’t even allowed to touch me.’

Joel chuckles at you properly this time.

‘You sound disappointed, baby.’

‘I am.’

He waits. He waits, because he knows. Of course he knows.

‘We watched each other, daddy,’ you breathe. Confessional, dirty. A heat flushes up your cheeks as you tug at your t-shirt, suddenly nervous.

‘Watched?’ he asks, a smile curling the word.

Mmhm.

‘Well done, baby,’ he says, ‘I’m impressed. Though a little disappointed it didn’t take you longer to figure out.’

You giggle, and he puffs out a breath before continuing.

‘Santi told me it wouldn't be so fast. Thought it’d take you guys a little while to -’

‘He thought it’d take Frankie longer to work out,’ you interject. Joel falls silent. ‘He knows Frankie, but not me so well. You should’ve known better.’

Joel laughs again.

‘You’re goddamn right, angel.’

You smile, smug. Hum in agreement.

Joel sighs.

‘Too eager for your own goddamn good,’ he murmurs, ‘Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm?’

God, his mouth. You moan openly, rocking your hips again, ready. Ready to hear him moaning, too, ready to hear the slick sound of the toy on his dick, ready to hear him groaning your name as he comes.

‘Yes, daddy.’

Joel hums, pleased. His breathing comes a little ragged this time, making your core hotter, tighter, wetter.

‘Use it,’ you moan, ‘Please, daddy. Wanna hear you use it.’

‘I’ll use it,’ he grunts, ‘But you ain’t gonna touch yourself. Just gonna have to listen, sweetheart.’

‘Please -’ you whine, but he cuts you off with a harsh tut.

‘No. You’re gonna be good, you’re gonna listen to me first.’

You begin to groan out again but he says your name in such a tone that you feel your body shift into submission, acquiescing to his demand.

‘You’re gonna stay still,’ he tells you, ‘And you’re gonna leave that pretty pussy alone until I’m done, y’hear?’ Your eyes half close, head dipping forward.

‘Yes, daddy.’

‘Good girl.’

You listen closely to the pop of the cap on the bottle of lube you’d packed for him, his heavy breathing as you imagine him soaking the toy, his sharp inhale as he spreads the cool gel over himself. The pop sounds again, and you wait with baited breath.

You’re rewarded almost immediately with a groan that resonates right through your body, vibrating straight down to your cunt as though he had voiced it against your lips.

‘Gonna start with my hand, baby,’ he says, voice low and breathy, ‘Start nice and slow, just like you would if you were here, huh?’

You hum low in your throat and lick your lips.

‘Wouldn’t start like that, daddy.’ Your voice is husky, drenched in lust at the thought of Joel spread on the hotel bed stroking his cock.

‘Oh?’

‘Start with my mouth,’ you breathe, ‘I’d lick you. Get you nice and wet so I can suck on it.’

‘Yeah?’ he whispers, ‘That what you’d do, you’d suck on it?’

You ache and throb between your legs, your free hand scratching at the skin of your thigh to distract yourself. Your mouth waters at the thought.

‘Mhm, daddy. Nice and deep, how you like it. You could fuck my throat if you wanted to.’

A low, guttural sound answers you, the slick sounds of his moving fist getting faster.

‘I’d want you to hold me still while I take you, daddy. I’d want to dribble and gag and cry.’

Joel huffs.

‘Would you, baby? You’d be such a good girl for me?’

You nod, lip between your teeth, even though he can’t see you.

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘And what if daddy wants to fuck your tight little pussy, baby girl? What would you do then?’

You moan, eyes fluttering shut, hips shifting of their own accord. You grip the hem of your t-shirt.

‘I’d let you.’ you answer, helplessly.

Joel chuckles darkly.

‘Want me to tell you what I’d do?’ He asks, and you loose a pained little sound, brows pulling together. You’re sure you’re soaking the pillow at this point, dripping through to the other side. Joel laughs again. ‘I think I’d tie you up, baby,’ he says, so low, so deep, that the world starts to drift away from you. You’re barely aware of the fact that the noise of his hand has stopped until he moans wantonly into the phone, and your eyes fly open. ‘Fuck,’ he grits, and then he huffs a cruel little laugh. ‘Was gonna tell you how I’d tie you up and fuck you, baby,’ he growls, ‘But this toy feels good ‘nough that I might just make you watch me instead.’

You whine, chin tipped up to the ceiling, hushed little cries of no, daddy, please - falling from your lips.

‘Oh, sweetheart. You don’t like the sound ‘a that?’ he asks. You shake your head, mewling, ‘No, ‘course not,’ he murmurs ‘Just wanna be stuffed full ‘a daddy’s cock, huh? Wanna be creamin’ around it way you love to, all stretched out and used, yeah?’

God, yes you do. You moan breathlessly, cunt twitching and throbbing, and you wonder whether this is enough to just come hands free. If you concentrate hard enough, if you bear down enough -

‘Maybe I’d film it,’ he muses, ‘Film it so Santiago and Francisco could watch. See how you really like to be used, how cock dumb I can make you. Would you like that, angel?’

‘Fuck, daddy, yes -’

‘Mmm. So they can see how good you look when you beg, when you’re dripping with my cum, huh, baby girl? See how good you look when you cry, when you just take it for me?’

You can tell he’s getting closer, his breathing heavier and more ragged, longer pauses between his thoughts. You wriggle on the pillow, feeling yourself flutter around nothing at the pathetic stimulation. He moans again, broken and loud, and you puff against the speaker, seeing your opportunity -

‘Come for me, daddy,’ you pant, ‘Please - come for me. Need to hear you daddy, please -’

Joel’s breath catches raggedly, once, twice, before it cuts off with a deep growl. With every resounding moan you hear, you can imagine the spurts of cum bursting from his tip. You wriggle even more, cunt burning.

‘Atta girl,’ Joel gasps, ‘Atta girl, helping your daddy out.’

‘Please,’ you moan, breathless, ‘Please, daddy, my turn, is it -’

‘Your turn,’ he says, so warm, so sweet, ‘Go ahead, baby. Long as it’s only yourself you’re touchin’.’

Your fingers flutter to your clit, swiping it gently, so sensitive, and you grit your teeth.

‘Only me.’ You repeat, and you can picture Joel’s answering smile. All teeth.

‘Just you, baby girl. No touchin’ no one else. Not even Frankie.’

You stay silent, moving your hips now to drag your soaked folds against the pillow. Your head falls to your shoulder, and you moan long and loud, wondering whether you can convince Frankie, whether you’ve got enough time together to film the two of you - watching each other, then Frankie stretching you out, filling you with his cum. Something you could send to Joel and Santi, a little treat, a little teaser.

You’ve been quiet for too long. And Joel knows. He always knows.

‘You gonna break the rules, baby girl?’ He coos.

You smile, as though he’s read your mind.

‘How much trouble will I be in if I do?’ You ask through a moan, biting your lip.

He chuckles down the line at you.

‘I don’t know, sugar,’ he drawls, ‘But you could always find out.’

The line clicks and beeps as he hangs up, and you stare down at your phone in disbelief. The signal must have dropped.

Just as you fumble to press the call button again, a text flies through.

Night, babygirl x

And then another -

Try to be good. I know it’s hard for you

You huff a laugh as you drop the phone into your lap, hips curling again over the pillow beneath you. Sonofabitch.

You’ll behave as badly as you damn well please.

———

You and Frankie make quick work of dinner the next evening. Your hands are clammy at the dinner table, pulse fast in your neck, a flush passing high over Frankie’s collar the whole time.

He makes even faster work of the drive back to yours, scraping through red lights as you pull your skirt higher, as you skate your fingers over your thighs, over your panties, watching him the whole time. There’s a wonderful thrill when you catch him looking, when his eyes meet yours and then drift to your hands, how dark they are in the passing streetlights, the white-knuckle grip of his hands on the wheel.

You can feel the heat of him behind you as you unlock the front door, the hunger of wanting his hands on you, pushing you through the doorway, the press of his chest against your back. But you can wait. You can be good.

You move through to your kitchen with him trailing behind you, and you’re grabbing two beers from your fridge before the question of do you want a drink? is even out. When you turn to face him again, Frankie is dangerously, dangerously close. You can smell the musk of his skin, see every changing fleck of colour in his eyes, and it’s too much. You’re pressing the bottle into his chest at the same time as you’re tipping your head for a kiss, eyelids fluttering closed. He takes both bottles from your hands and places then somewhere behind you before caging you in with his thick arms, his mouth in a tight, serious line. You arch your back subconsciously, but he seems to anticipate every movement of your body; somehow still always millimetres away, like the ghost of a man pressed up against you, a layer of film between you.

He leans in so close that you can taste the hot breath he’s pouring into your mouth, so close you can feel the air moving when he tells you, so softly -

‘Take your clothes off. And sit on the couch.’

You strip yourself as you watch him do the same, eyes blown wide by every stretch of bare skin that’s revealed to you. And it is not fair. So unfair that Frankie is finally naked in front of you - so gorgeous - long-limbed and tan, beautiful cock hard and heavy between his thick thighs - and you are unable to touch him.

You clench your jaw, sat back and stretched out like a cat at one end of the sofa, petting yourself as you watch him come towards you and lower himself onto the cushion next to you.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall back into the rhythm you found last night. It’s hypnotic. The movements, the sounds, the words. Watching Frankie is heady, intoxicating. It feels like you’re watching something happen outside of your own body, and you find yourself surprised as you move to kneel beside him, as you swing a leg over his legs so you’re straddling him. You’re so wet, so warm that you’re sure the night could pass for a summer’s day. Your skin is glimmering with sweat, same as Frankie’s. You search his eyes to find him staring back at you, just as fucked out, just as woozy. You moan, hot little pants dripping past your lips. He echoes you.

You sit back on his thighs, your fingers diving in and out of you as you watch his fist work furiously around his cock. Something warm and hot, greedy and possessive swells inside of you. He looks delicious like this, spread out in front of you, wanting and needy. His cock thick, swollen, dribbling. It twitches as you watch him, and you moan somewhere beyond your consciousness. Need, your body whispers. Need. You inch forwards, lifting your hips higher, higher, Frankie watching you like he’s somewhere outside his body. You take his hand from his cock, fingers slippery with his precum, and place it at your hip. You grind into your hand at the slick feeling, pulling your fingers out with a wet sound and hovering above him, gripping his cock so you can brush the swollen head of it against your clit. Frankie shudders, his body going slack, and you almost come from the sensation alone. You lower your hips just a little, bracing the mushroom of his tip at the tight ring of your entrance.

You gonna break the rules, babygirl?

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, suddenly unsure.

You huff against him, everything too tight, too heady. Need.

‘Shhh, it’s okay,’ you whisper. ‘It’s okay, just a little bit. Just wanna feel you a little bit.’

‘But -’ he’s cut off by his own loud whine, unable to protest as you fit his head just inside your pussy. You throb around him, at the stimulation it brings. You clutch at his shoulder, head falling forwards at the stretch. Fuck, you could absolutely come like this. You need him deeper, need him to to fill you, but -

Oh, he is so good.

His hands are like steel at your hips, keeping you in place. Frankie doesn’t want to disobey, doesn’t want to get in trouble. His grip speaks to that, his wide eyes, the sweat at his temple. But you can see on his face as you drip down him, the clutch of Joel’s control doesn’t hold nearly enough power when faced with what he truly wants.

You move back and forth a little, still with his tip just inside, moaning brokenly at the feel of it, and his eyelids flutter closed as something like a prayer brushes past his lips.

Frankie is good, but you are so, so bad.

You drop your hips down further, and his fingers flex against your skin as he gasps, a high, keening noise reverberating from his chest.

‘Jesus Christ -’ he groans.

‘Fucking - hell, Frankie -’

He’s a lot. You can feel yourself adjusting as you slide down his length, your promise quickly forgotten. Greedy fuckin’ girl. But you can’t help yourself, brain short circuiting, body molten as you take him in inch by inch. It’s too much, all consuming. There’s no space for another thought, any more consideration as he fills you, as you take what you need.

He whimpers as you bottom out, grinding against the curls at his base, breathing heavily.

‘So good,’ you whisper, ‘So good, you know that?’

Your head hangs forward against his shoulder as you gulp down air, as you feel yourself clench and leak around him, as he twitches inside you. After moments in almost silence, you lean back to look down at him.

His eyes are glassy, fucked out as he looks back at you.

You lift your hips, and the moan he lets out is pained. Your skin is on fire, and you want his hands everywhere.

‘Frankie, touch me.’

‘I can’t -’

‘You can,’ you grit, ‘You can, because I told you to.’

He moans again, and suddenly he’s everywhere. He knows where you need to be touched like you’ve done this before, his fingertips scorching and cooling as he strokes your thighs, your neck, as he grips your ass. Encouraged, you continue to move, slowly rocking up and down on his cock, breathing raggedly. Every noise that escapes the two of you seems to come without being registered, something primal, starved. Already, the coil is tightening, your body racing towards where it needs to be, and you know it will be intense, all-consuming to come around him, so thick inside of you. You lean further forwards, and he takes the opportunity to press his mouth to your sternum, licking the skin before turning his head to take a nipple in his mouth - hot and wet and sucking, lathing it with his tongue.

‘Fuck,’ you hiss, moving faster, chasing, chasing what is so close. You grip the hair at the back of his head, tugging and keeping him close to your breast, keening against him.

‘Like that,’ you gasp, ‘Yeah, like that baby, god, so good, you’re so good for me, feel so good baby boy, you have no idea -’

You can feel yourself tighten and tighten, and Frankie holds you harder, force that feels so delicious you don’t even care about the hurt, not until it turns to iron, not until he rips his mouth away from you -

‘I’m gonna come -’ he whimpers, gripping your hips so tight you couldn’t move if you wanted to. ‘Please, baby, please - stop - I can’t - I’ll come -’

Hot desperation claws up your chest. You are so close, so close, but he looks so wildly at you that you stop trying to move, try to force back tears of frustration as you lean forwards to kiss him as sweetly as you can. Spit-slick and swollen, you pull back and rest your forehead to his. Try to think straight, tell him what he needs to hear.

‘No you won’t,’ you coo, taking his face in your hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. You put everything into your gaze, all your warmth, all your care for him, try to make him see how good this is. He stares up at you, eyes wide, dark. Panicked. Panicked at the thought of disappointing you. ‘You won’t, Frankie. It’s okay, you’re not gonna come.’ You try to shift a little so you can settle on your thighs to soothe him, but he clenches his eyes shut at your movement and whimpers louder, his mouth screwing up.

‘Please don’t move,’ he whispers, ‘Just wait, - just -’

You lean forward and press a kiss to his hairline, feeling his tip move slowly to a shallower part of you. Fuck.

‘Relax, baby boy,’ you murmur, and he sucks in a breath. ‘Concentrate. I’m gonna sit down, and you are not going to come, okay?’

You wait, but Frankie still has his eyes screwed shut, nostrils flaring, fingers bruising against your skin. The tense feeling in your chest swells again.

‘Frankie.’ You say sharply, and he jumps out of himself, eyes flashing open to yours. ‘I’m gonna sit back down. Take a deep breath.’

Frankie watches you as he breathes in through his nose, and you move at the sound of his airflow. His hands slacken at your hips, and he moans, low and long.

‘That’s it,’ you say, sinking all the way down, writhing helplessly at his base. You’re already both so close. ‘Good boy. How are you doing?’

Frankie breathes shallowly as you adjust around his cock. His cheeks are red, hair sweaty. His lips are bitten, bleeding through one crack of skin, eyes almost entirely black. You scratch at the curls at the nape of his neck, massaging the tendons there.

‘Okay,’ he croaks. You try not to think of how he feels inside you. How full you feel, how stretched out. He’s thick and nestled in deep - not as far as Joel - but the ache you feel around his girth is delicious. Fuck, this was a bad idea. You should have just hopped off him, let him slide out so you could both catch your breath. And now, instead, you’re managing to edge the two of you even further.

You know you can’t last long, and you know, from the desperate look on Frankie’s face, that he won’t either, no matter what you do. It feels crueller to stop now than it does to keep going, to watch him deny himself like this, to feel you deny yourself, too. You can feel your pussy tightening and leaking around him at the thought, the ache, the need that’s just there -

‘I have to move, baby -’

‘No -’ he chokes, ‘Please, hermosa, just a minute -’

‘I have to, Frankie, I - you feel too good, baby, I need to move. Wanna come, wanna see you come, too -’

Frankie’s iron grip returns to your hips as they lift of their own accord, and he hisses, head bowed, at the movement. You moan hoarsely.

‘It’s okay,’ you pant, gripping his chin in one hand, lifting his face to yours. ‘Listen to me, it’s okay. Focus now.’ You begin to move up and down him again, the slow drag of his cock tightening your grip on his face but loosening the hold you have on your body. You whimper, pussy fluttering around him. Frankie groans, breathlessly whispers your name, a pleasepleaseplease -

‘I know you can last as long as I need you to, baby,’ you whisper. ‘You’ve done it before, haven’t you?’ Frankie whines, his eyes rolling back, mouth falling slightly open. You can’t stop the moan that bubbles up your throat - him edging himself as he watched you the night before, eyes stuck on your fingers, your pulses, your wetness. You feel him throb inside you as he nods drunkenly. ‘That’s it, good boy. I know it feels good, but you can last a little longer. I know you can, Frankie. You’re doing so well.’

His fingers clutch at the swell of your hips, weak, sweaty, and you clench so hard around him that it’s a challenge to drag his cock through your walls. You breathe shallowly, slowing the pace again, and Frankie watches you through heavy lidded eyes. He licks his bottom lip.

‘Come,’ he breathes, a hand leaving your hip so he can thumb your clit. You hiss, hips stuttering so hard you sink all the way down onto him, grinding his tip into your womb. Frankie grits his teeth. ‘Come, hermosa,’ he tells you again, and you can feel the savage heat, pussy winding tighter and tighter, your body about to burst. Quietly, with a command he’s not had in his voice until now, Frankie says your name. Come. Now.

Your orgasm is blinding. You cease to exist in the corporeal world for an indeterminate time, coming to only when Frankie pulls you to his chest, his hips pressing up into you as you milk him. You’re achingly aware of the way his cock jumps inside of you as he pumps you full of cum, of the way his fingers grip and bruise your body, of the way you sink your teeth into his shoulder as you continue to throb around him.

‘Fuck.’ you bite out, resting your forehead against his as you pant into each other’s mouths. Minutes tick by, Frankie’s harsh grip turning to soft caresses, and you press chaste kisses to his nose, his forehead, his lips, before you rest your head against his collar bone. He takes a deep breath.

‘Baby,’ he starts. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, searching for what he’s about to say. You squeeze his middle gently. ‘Joel -’

‘Is my problem,’ you breathe, ‘I did this. It’s on me. He knew I’d break the rules.’

He swallows, nods.

‘Okay.’

You press a kiss to his neck, and he visibly relaxes.

‘It’s okay,’ you murmur. ‘No one’s gonna be mad at you. No one’s gonna be mad, full stop.’ He makes a noise of appreciation somewhere in his throat.

You bite your lip and lean back, fixing him with a wicked grin.

‘Besides, this is all part of the foreplay.’

‘The foreplay?’ He whispers, brow furrowing.

You nod, humming at the feeling of his cum slipping from the warmth of your cunt.

‘You really thought he’d just come in your mouth?’

His eyes darken, a huff slipping from his kiss-bitten lips. He brings your hand from his neck to his mouth and bites down on the flesh of your palm. You giggle again.

‘Mm, you like that, baby boy? Like the idea of daddy playing with you, too?’

‘Stop.’ He groans, ‘You keep talking like that, and -’

‘There’ll be a round two?’ you tease. ‘Doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me,’ you smile, feeling him twitch inside you. ‘In fact,’ you continue, ‘That sounds like something a very good boy would do.’

‘Stop talking,’ he growls, ‘And take me upstairs. I remember something about you promising to let me taste you.’

The smile that grows across your lips is impossible to hide.

———

Pope wasn’t fucking around when he told you Frankie was good with his mouth.

He wakes you the next morning with more of what he gave you last night, his tongue warm and wet against your cunt, lapping and kissing and sucking until you’re sweating and writhing above him, hands fisted in his hair.

He likes that.

Likes biting marks into your thighs, making you moan and cry and come again and again. Likes when you’re a little mean, when you tell him what to do, when you hold him afterwards, when you let him fill you and fuck you until you’re both whimpering and covered in cum and slick.

The three days that follow pass in a blur of not touching and definitely touching. Frankie quickly becomes accustomed to waking wrapped up in your bed, your arm thrown over his side, and you quickly become accustomed to the sweet praises that drip from his lips as he slots himself inside you - how tight and sweet you are, how he can’t believe he fits in so well. How he can’t wait to share you, properly this time.

He bends you over the kitchen table after you’ve finished eating dinner, licking into you before splitting you open, and you take him in your mouth on your knees in the shower, making sure to remind him of how pretty he is, how good he feels in your mouth. You work him open with your fingers, your tongue, curling them inside him just to watch him struggle not to come so fast. It’s gorgeous. And when you’re too sore and swollen to have each other again, you find yourself cradled between his thighs, your back to his chest as he circles your clit gently with two fingers, kissing your neck and grinding himself against you as you moan, as you remind him how you need to get to work.

‘I know, baby,’ he murmurs, ‘Just wanna watch you come again.’

It’s feverish, it’s risky. You try to be a good liar, but you’re sure Joel knows. Knows you well enough, anyway, to guess that it would happen at some point. Which just means he must have been planning what he’d do to you after finding out for some time, too. You try to be careful as the week goes on - planning to wash your sheets, to not have Frankie in the house when Pope or Joel return. To just try and make it look like you succeeded, that you listened. That you were good.

You’re on your elbows and knees, body weak, pussy swollen and dripping as Frankie spears you from behind when the text comes. It’s Santi.

I’ll be home 2morrow. Look forward to seeing u 2.

One more time, Frankie gasps. Once more like this, and then you can wait.

The two of you can wait until tomorrow.

———

You wait all day for Santi.

And you try to be good, you really do. But Frankie’s mouth is just so convincing.

He’s not allowed to bite, not allowed to leave any marks. He has permission to make you come, and then he has to clean you up again like nothing ever happened. You’re not going to touch him, and he’s not going to touch himself. He’ll have to save it for when Pope gets here. Which, as it’s turned out, is much later than he said. But not late enough to miss the show.

‘Am I interrupting?’

Frankie lurches away from between your thighs like he’s been scorched, backing up towards the end of the bed. He looks so surprised, so worried, that you snort at him, still so caught up in the throes of pleasure to not be too worried about Pope’s reappearance.

He looks good. A healthy glow to his skin, tight black top, his curls perfectly framing his face. His mouth is twisted into its most alluring smirk, and you watch it deepen at the flush of Frankie’s cheeks and the way you snake a hand between your legs.

‘Not at all, baby,’ you coo, and his eyes darken, following the path of your hand. It’s ingrained into you now, how Pope touched you last. The memory rushes through you, and you moan softly, the noises your hand is making against your wet folds so obscene. Still watching, he peels his belt from its loops, curling it in his fist.

He jerks his chin at Frankie.

‘You at least make her beg for it?’

You huff a small laugh, thinking back on how not thirty minutes ago Frankie had been on his knees in front of you, begging for a taste, begging to lick your cunt.

Santi’s eyes shoot to you and the amusement on your face, and he steps forward with a smile.

‘Should have known,’ he says gently, through a smile. His palm cups your cheek, and you nestle into his touch, forgetting that whatever punishment Joel might have thought up, Santi might share. He traces your skin down your jaw, your neck, across your clavicles and down the arm closest to him. He holds your wrist, and pulls it up to his mouth where he can kiss your knuckles in greeting. ‘Hello, querida.’

You look back at him with wide, lust-blown eyes. ‘Hey, Santiago.’

He takes you in greedily, eyes scouring over your bare body, scrutinising so intensely that you almost feel self-conscious.

‘What do we have here?’ he purrs, his spare hand reaching over you, thumbing your nipple. You whine and arch against his touch, fingers moving faster, and he tuts, shaking his head. ‘This will never do, cielo.’ He squeezes your breast firmly before running his fingers down the length of your arm, gripping your other wrist to bring your wet fingers to his mouth. He parts his lips and presses them in gently, and you mewl, hips bucking, as he works his tongue over the digits. His eyes are dark, boring into you, only distracted by the heavy breath Frankie takes from the other end of the mattress. He releases your fingers quickly.

‘No.’ he barks at the other man, and you swing your head to look at Frankie, a hand frozen mid-pull on his cock, face flushing an even deeper shade of red. ‘Did I tell you you could touch yourself?’

Frankie shakes his head frantically, hands moving to his sides.

‘Did I?’

‘No.’ he whispers, breathless, apologetic. Pope jerks his head again, over his shoulder.

‘Off the bed.’

Frankie unfurls his limbs to stand at the bedside, cock heavy and bobbing against his stomach as Santi easily joins your wrists with one hand. It takes you too long to work out what he’s doing - his belt already curled around your hands before you make a noise of protest, silenced by a hard look from him. He twists the leather around your hands twice before tying them to the bedframe above you, giving a sharp pull to test the give. Your chest heaves, something sparking inside you as he cups your cheek gently.

‘Good?’

‘Yes, Santi.’ You murmur, taking your cue from how he admonished Frankie.

He steps back, admiring his handiwork, looking pleased.

‘Maybe that’ll help you keep your hands to yourself.’ He says, half-turning to Frankie.

‘Down.’

Frankie drops to his knees at the command, and you moan, thighs clenching, arms straining above your head, tight to your eyes. Santi says something to you, muffled, and you try to relax again to hear him, a quiet hm? the only sound you can make.

He cocks his head at you, lips curled.

‘Lube, querida,’ he says, ‘Where do you keep it?’

You inhale sharply, mind buzzing.

‘U-under the bed.’

Pope drops to his knees beside you, rifling around until he finds and pulls out a green box, ripping off the lid. His face splits in a dangerous, thrilled grin.

‘Now, what have we got in here?’

You watch with bated breath as Pope rummages through the box, your chest heaving, arms straining against the belt again. He throws the bottle of lube onto the bed before turning his attention back to your toys. He brings your wand into your line of sight, and you squeeze your eyes closed as he presses the button, the room filling with its buzzing sound.

You flinch when he brings the vibrator into contact with your skin, tracing your nipples. Your eyes fly open to find him and Frankie watching you intently.

‘Had a lot of time to think about this while I was away,’ Santi says, almost to himself, ‘But I’ve got much better ideas now.’

Pope licks his lips as he dips the wand lower, teasing it around the soft flesh of your thighs before resting it against your clit.

You yelp at the contact, body juddering.

‘Please, Santi,’ you cry, ‘Please -’ but he shushes you gently, stroking your hair as he lays the wand between your thighs, nestled in to where the feeling is most intense, most overwhelming.

‘It’s okay, baby,’ he coos, ‘Just need you to hold that there, be a good girl.’

You whimper brokenly up at him, and he pouts at you, teasingly.

‘Listen to me,’ he says, and you hold your breath, ‘That’s gonna stay right there, against your pretty little pussy, and you’re not gonna come, are you, querida?’

Your brain buffers, jaw clenching against the heat rising through you, and Santi frowns at you.

‘Are you?’

The air bursts from your lungs as you moan out a no, rewarded with a smile.

‘Good girl.’ he says, dipping to pick something up from the floor. Your panties from where Frankie had stripped you of them earlier.

He taps your chin.

‘Open,’ your mouth falls open of its own accord, and Santi stuffs the lace in. ‘Something for you to bite down on.’

You huff, brow furrowing in concentration, desire, as Pope steps away again and moves towards Frankie.

Frankie, still on his knees, watching open mouthed, cock jumping as he takes you in - stretched out, bound and desperate. His eyes leave yours to watch Santi begin to strip himself of his clothes, and you join him, groaning at the slow show he gives you both. His smooth, tan skin, the muscles that ripple beneath. He unbuttons his jeans before stilling, eyes falling on Frankie.

‘Come here,’ Santi says, and Frankie shuffles forward instantly. ‘Good boy. Now take me out, and show our girl what else you can do with that mouth.’

Your eyes roll back into your skull, and your wrists tug at Santi’s belt. From behind the fabric in your mouth, Pope can hear your muffled fuck. He smirks down at Frankie.

‘Before she comes, hermano.’

‘Pope,’ Frankie breathes, shocked through his haze of arousal, confused, warning.

‘What?’ Santi says, cupping his cheek gently. ‘You don’t think I checked with Joel? Didn’t ask what you got up to before he left? Don’t worry, baby, I did. He just wants to know she’s being taken care of. The sooner you put me in your mouth, the sooner we can do just that.’

Frankie swallows visibly, flustered, eyes flicking to you before he reaches out to tug Santi’s jeans and boxers down, taking the other man’s hard cock in his hand, squeezing and pumping gently. He takes care to thumb over the precum that gathers at his tip, using it to ease the movement. Pope breathes out slowly before touching Frankie’s bottom lip with his thumb, parting his mouth. He joins Frankie’s hand at his base and taps the head of his cock where his thumb had just been, and Frankie opens wider, allowing space for Pope to slide in. He takes lazy thrusts as you watch with wide eyes, hips canting against the toy, cunt pulsing, body on fire - acutely aware that Frankie has a gag reflex to rival your own. The thought makes you giggle, a kind of pride blooming in your chest. So easy. Frankie stares up at his best friend with glassy eyes, cock leaking and untouched between his legs, palms resting, unflexed, atop his thighs.

‘He’s a good toy, isn’t he, cielo?’ Pope hums, slowing the rhythm of his thrusts. ‘So good at just - taking it. Barely any fight in you, is there, baby boy?’

With his mouth full of Santi’s cock, Frankie can barely shake his head. The corners of Pope’s lips curl.

‘No. I’ll bet she hardly even had to ask you. Just a little while longer watching her and you’d have begged to feel her milk you yourself. Isn’t that right, Fish?’

Frankie moans beneath him, his cock dribbling and straining. You want so badly to have it on your tongue, in your hand, inside your pussy, that you whine again, louder. Santi’s eyes slide to you, mouth wide in a smirk.

‘Quit whining, querida. We’ll be with you in a moment.’

You groan again as Pope twists his fingers in Frankie’s hair, cooing at him.

‘Yeah, seems that you both thought to tell us how’d you’d watched, hm? It’s a pity you couldn’t wait to touch, though. Could have made this so much easier for yourselves.’ You wriggle your hips a little more, finding just the right angle, the right pressure. Oh, it’s so good. Too good. Your noises come louder, faster, and though Frankie’s eyes don’t leave Santi, his body twitches, finely attuned now, to how you sound before you come. As though he’s read Frankie’s mind, Pope’s eyes snap back to you.

‘Not yet.’ He bites.

You breathe jagged, harsh breaths through your nose, eyes scrunching shut against the coil that’s tightening in your core. You’re so wet you can feel it dripping through your folds, straight onto the sheets, and you try to think of anything but the sound of Santi’s cock moving in Frankie’s throat. What groceries you need to buy, the post you need to hand to your neighbour, what you’ll wear to meet Sarah. Joel. Joel. Fuck, no. That makes it even worse.

You moan again, dangerously close to the edge, cracking open your eyes to see Frankie bobbing up and down Santi’s length, drool escaping the corners of his mouth. How his cheeks hollow, how he sinks down to the wiry hairs at the bottom, eyes fixed on Santi’s face, unwavering, swallowing; moving back up to kiss the tip, the spit that trails from his lips to Pope’s head, how Pope rocks his hips forward, chasing the sensation. How Santi groans for him, tomalo, mírame, tu boca, tan bonito -

Your hips stutter, now trying to move away from the vibrator as Pope’s hand finally grips Frankie’s curls, pulling him in closer, holding him still as he fucks his throat, and you try to get out a please, please, trying to back yourself down, trying so hard even though it would be so easy -

Santi’s gaze finds you, lost to the feeling of the other man’s mouth, and he smiles kindly.

‘Casi ahí, bebita.’

You shake your head, eyes pleading, desperate, teary, and he seems to take pity on you. He uses his grip on Frankie’s curls to ease him off slowly, marvelling at the way his cock emerges, glistening; at the way Frankies mouth still hangs open for him to fill.

‘Should we help her out, baby?’ He asks softy.

Frankie looks to you, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed. Please, you try to moan again.

‘Yes.’ He says, voice hoarse.

Pope holds a hand out to him to help him off the floor, and Frankie stands on shaky legs. You try to will them to move faster, teetering on the edge, breath leaving you in great puffs, your body straining away from the toy, arms aching with the effort of trying to pull yourself away.

‘You ready to come, princesa?’ Santi murmurs.

You gurgle an mhm, sniffling as his hand moves low, hovering over the vibrator. Frankie bends, his cock angry and red still, to press a kiss to your temple.

‘Did so well,’ he whispers, ‘It’s okay, hermosa.’

Pope takes that as his cue to take hold of the wand.

Your back arches as he presses it down, harder against you, roving it back and forth for extra friction. You start to beg through your panties, knowing you can’t hold back anymore as your pussy turns traitor, beginning to flutter. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes, and Santi smiles.

‘Now.’ he whispers.

Your body pulls impossibly tight, giving in to the rush of fire that has been simmering, your muscles clenching painfully as sound and sight evade you. You can feel your lungs working, feel the choked gasps leaving you, feel your arms pulling at Santi’s belt, but you are somewhere outside your body. A rush courses through your body, and you feel yourself gushing between your thighs.

When you come to, blinking, body slick with sweat and your cum seeping down your legs, Pope is untying your hands. You drop them above your head, and Frankie takes your wrists, massaging them soothingly with his thumbs. Santi presses a tender kiss to your stomach, moving the vibrator away as you shiver and jerk with overstimulation.

‘So good, bebita,’ he says, ‘Atta girl. Look how well you behaved there.’

He presses his fingers into your mouth to remove the lace, and your tongue works around your gums to alleviate the dryness the fabric left.

‘Can you move?’ He asks gently, and you nod weakly, cinching at the waist to haul yourself up. He brings his palms to your shoulder, rubbing your skin as Frankie sits behind you, pressing kisses to the nape of your neck. ‘Well done, princesa.’

He brings you further forward, cradling you to his chest as he tells Frankie to lay back behind you, then angles your shoulder to turn and face him. Frankie looks fucked. His bare skin untouched, his cock dribbling precum, pooling at his stomach as you watch. His jaw is clenched like he’s trying to stop himself from begging, and you reach out to touch his thigh, trying to offer comfort in any way you can. He whimpers at the warmth of your skin.

‘Should we help him, querida?’ Pope whispers in your ear, your back still to his chest.

‘Yes.’ You answer, throat dry. He kisses your cheek, and you feel his smile.

‘Use your mouth, bonita.’

You move from Pope to settle yourself between Frankie’s legs on all fours, breathing kisses into his inner thighs before touching him, trailing a finger down his soft shaft. He hisses at the sensation, and you pause, meeting his eye. He swallows, nods.

‘Keep going.’ He rasps.

You pull yourself further up, mouthing at his underside, pressing kisses to his leaking tip before laving your tongue up and down his length. When his hips buck at the sensation, you move a palm to cup his balls and take him fully into your mouth, sucking and hollowing your cheeks, humming with the salty taste of him. His hands quickly find the side of your head, and you move back up towards his tip, licking into his slit to drink down more, playing with his frenulum in a way you know drives him insane. He moans, deep and needy, puffing out a soft fuck as you take him down to the base again, nuzzling the hair there, breathing him in. His cock jumps in your throat, and he looses a needy whine, pulling on your hair, but you don’t budge.

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, voice tight, and Santi speaks again from behind you.

‘Are you gonna last, hermano?’

Frankie looks up from watching you, unfocused, swaying his head. Pope makes an amused sound, and you feel his hands on you, positioning you, then the press of his tip against your slick hole.

‘Just a little longer, Fish. So much to do with you two.’

Santi glides inside of you easily, but it’s still enough to knock the breath from your lungs. You moan around Frankie’s sensitive dick, and he gasps, hands tightening in your hair.

‘Please -’ he warns, ‘Please -’ as Pope pulls out and thrusts back in again. You cry out, moving back up to Frankie’s tip, moving up and down the best you can as Pope dives in and out of your pussy, knocking you forward to take Frankie deeper with each thrust. ‘Santi -’ Frankie grits, and the other man chuckles behind you.

‘Alright,’ he says, ‘Don’t want to spoil the fun.’

You whine and pout at the loss as he withdraws from you completely, turning your head to find that he’s stripped himself of his jeans and underwear. He winks at you before giving you a little push.

‘Ride it, querida.’

You push yourself up eagerly, coming to straddle Frankie’s hips before positioning him at your entrance. He looks up at you with blown, lust filled eyes, absolutely ruined.

Despite the stretch, you sink down onto him without stopping.

He feels so good. Just like the first time.

You writhe down at his base as his hands shoot out to grip your hips, his beautiful neck straining as his grits his teeth, his abs flexing as he attempts to hold you still. But it didn’t work the first time, and it won’t work now.

You take yourself slowly up, smiling at the wet sound of the movement before sinking down again, feeling him stretch you out, feeling him in your stomach. It’s a delicious ache. You wonder what Joel would say right now, watching you take him so easily, watching how he fills you. Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm? You clench tight around Frankie at the thought, at the same time as a little ache settles in your chest. You miss him. You miss him, and you wonder what he’d be doing with his hands, his mouth, his cock -

‘Que cosita mas linda.'

Santi’s voice brings you back as you bounce on Frankie’s lap, and you lift your head to look at the younger man, his eyes heavy-lidded, lip nipped between his teeth.

‘She gonna make you come like this, Francisco?’

At the use of his full name, all of the sounds Frankie has been trying to hold back break free from him. All of his pretty little gasps and moans, his whimpers, the way he pants your name as he clings to you, eyes never leaving where you’re joined as he pleads -

‘Can I? Can I come?’

You clench around him again, the knot in your belly snapping at his words, your orgasm blinding as it comes at you sideways. Frankie moans loudly, repeating your name. You gasp, high little pants of uh- uh- as you jolt on him, pain mixing with pleasure as you call his name, Santi’s name, Joel’s name -

‘Up. Off.’

Santi presses a palm to your backside to move you off of Frankie’s length, even as you still clench around him.

‘Fuck,’ Frankie heaves, ‘Fuck, please, no -’

‘Quiet.’ Santi bites at him, and Frankie whines, his cock jumping between your folds at his tone. You close your eyes.

‘Let him,’ you plead, ‘Please, let him, Pope.’

You wanted him to come, he deserved to come. You move your lips up and down his length, and Frankie chokes a moan, his body moving higher up the bed as Santi moves behind you, but you can’t work out why behind the darkness of your eyelids. Your eyes are still closed, body still quaking as Santi leans forward to press a kiss to the centre of your spine. You arch your back against his mouth and he chases you, pressing another slightly higher, scraping his teeth against your skin.

‘Querida,’ he says. You can only moan in response. You know it’s not what he wants, but your brain is so fuzzy it can’t comprehend anything beyond it.

‘Turn around,’ he says, and you whimper, eyelids fluttering as you scratch gently at Frankie’s chest. The man beneath you writhes at the feeling, head rolling, eyes closing, fingers flexing bruisingly on your hips. ‘Turn. Around.’ Santi grits, this time taking Frankie’s hands so he can prise them off you, gripping your waist in an effort to turn your body.

There’s no graceful way to do it, but Frankie handles your limbs with gentle hands as you swing your legs around him.

When you face Pope, the sight that greets you is even better than you could have imagined.

He eyes you hungrily, carnally, his brow dark and hair curled more than you've ever seen. But your eyes are taken to where his fingers are sunk knuckle-deep into Frankie, pumping them slowly. You moan as he digs them in deeper before curling them, repeating the beckoning motion until Frankie’s belly twitches. At the tells of his orgasm, Pope removes the digits slowly, deaf to Frankie’s desperate begging. You watch, mute, as Pope then takes the bottle of lube from beside him, pouring it onto his cock with a quiet moan, jacking himself before pressing his tip to Frankie’s hole. You feel the man below you tense slightly, and you stroke his thighs, fallen open on either side of Santi, with soothing fingers. When he relaxes, one of Pope’s hands meets yours on his flesh, the other helping to guide himself in. You watch as his length is swallowed, breathing shallow, listening to any noise the pair make. Frankie’s ragged groan, the way he chants Pope, Jesus, fuck, his bruising grip back on your hips, Pope’s answering growl as his eyes roll to the ceiling before fluttering shut. When he bottoms out, you watch as his stomach flexes, eyes then drifting lower, where you can only see the coarse hair at the base of his cock, the rest of it buried inside Frankie. You feel your face crease as your stomach turns molten.

Your hips drop to the swell of Frankie’s stomach, searching for any kind of friction. It should be impossible to be this constantly turned on. You move your hips as Pope drags his cock in and out of Frankie once, twice, murmuring how tight he is, how pretty, how good, before his eyes find yours.

‘You want her to sit on your face, pretty boy?’ Santiago purrs at the man over your shoulder.

‘Oh, fuck, please.’ Frankie moans.

Pope jerks his chin at you, sending you shuffling clumsily backwards, blinded by how badly you need to feel something, eyes fixed again to where he thrusts in and out of the younger man, angling your hips above Frankie’s face. You only see his mouth open, tongue already out to lick a fat stripe through your folds, before he pulls you roughly down, moaning against you.

‘Jesus - fuck -’ you hiss, trying to jerk away. It’s too much, too soon, but Frankie is too strong, too desperate to taste you. Your hand flies out Santi’s chest, scratching his skin before trying to find purchase higher up. You take his neck between your thumb and fingers as Frankie eats at you, his mouth harsh and hungry as it sucks and licks. Santi stutters out a groan as you tilt his head at you and squeeze.

‘Make him come,’ you murmur, ‘Make him come, baby, and then you can show me what else you wanna do with us.’

Santi grins and pants against you, his hips faltering for a moment as he leans his neck further into the cradle of your hand. He nods quickly, eyes glazing and soft. You smile back at him, squeezing again, pleased.

‘Frankie always said you were a good soldier, Santiago,’ you coo. ‘Should have known what you really needed was to be told what to do.’

‘Fuck you.’ He grins against your lips.

You answer it with a pathetic, needy little whine.

‘Mm, yes please, baby.’

Frankie takes the moment to suck particularly hard at your clit, and you feel your face crumple - one hand scrabbling at the younger man’s belly, the one at Santi’s neck now gripping the shoulder of the man fucking him. Frankie works diligently at your cunt, anchoring your hips to him as he devours you ravenously, letting the tip of his nose rest just inside your entrance as he flicks your bud with his tongue, swirling it in circles as you grind against him.

This orgasm comes slow, like wading through treacle. It drips down your spine as you curve over Frankie, gasping and shuddering, so breathless that even Pope slows down. Frankie must feel you jolt and twitch above him, lapping up the last of your cum before he releases you from his grip. You lift your hips quickly, needing reprieve, aftershocks still knocking through you as you pant against Santi’s chest.

‘So good,’ you breathe, loud enough for Frankie to hear, ‘So good to me, baby boy, aren’t you?’

Pope presses a kiss to your hair as you work a fist around Frankie’s cock, squeezing his base. He jumps beneath you, a heady, keening noise wailing from his now unoccupied mouth, and you squeeze him tighter, pumping him once, twice, his shaft slick with your juices and his precum.

‘You’ll make him come.’ Pope warns, and you hum against him, forehead just above his sternum. You’re too lost in the way his cock looks as it disappears into Frankie.

The door opens so quietly you don’t hear it, but Santi does. How he keeps his wits about him despite what’s happening is beyond you. He stills his movements inside Frankie, and you feel his damp breath against your forehead, head dipping as he nudges your cheek with his jaw, turning your face towards it.

‘Look who’s home.’ He murmurs into your ear.

Your stomach swoops.

Joel stands in the doorway. His nose and brow rosy from working in the sun, your favourite flannel draped over his broad shoulders, a grin twisting his lips as he takes the scene in. His eyes dip from yours to your tits, to the way your body curls over Frankie’s. He takes in the man laying beneath you - his face shining with your cum, blissed and fucked out. The rise and fall of his tummy, the way his thighs are splayed to make room for Pope. The way Santi can’t help but flex inside him, earning a ragged groan from both of them, up the other man’s torso, his neck, to the dark eyes watching him back. It’s breathtaking.

Joel cocks his head.

‘Don’t stop on my account,’ he drawls, ‘Y’all make such a pretty picture.’

You swallow loudly, letting your head fall back to Santi’s warm shoulder, panting before looking back at him. Something swirls in your gut, and you speak before even realising.

‘Come here,’ you whisper, voice cracking. ‘Come here and make it even prettier, daddy.’

The three of you watch as Joel steps towards you, letting the door fall shut behind him.

help with spanish translations from @/urmomsgnocchi's invaluable post here. if there are inaccuracies, please drop me a message <3

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