#weight/body image talk to follow:

[ct-hardcase]

that all being said I'm coming up on one year at the gym I'm going to and of all the things that happened last year that was among the best I'm so serious

[backtodecembertv]

working out is so good for me mentally, except for how i have to work to silence the evil goblin in my head that wants to make it about losing weight. no calorie counting, no examining my body in the gym mirrors, no comparing my body to other women's bodies, no cardio to make up for eating treats, none of that shit. exercise is about getting stronger and feeling good

[brunchable]

𝗠𝘆 𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗣𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 [ 2 ]

Part One Pairings: PornStar!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Sexual Innuendo/humour,Guy next door, situational comedy? Sexual Themes 18+ ONLY: fingering, cunnilingus, Bucky loves tiddies, dirty talk. Summary: Though you've become oddly close to SergeantBarnes, it's still difficult to act normal around him. A/N: I didn't think many would ask for a part two but here you go. divider by @cafekitsune

It was a peaceful evening in the apartment gym—or, at least, it was supposed to be. You had your plan: thirty minutes on the stair climber, some stretches, and you’d be out of there before any awkwardness could find you.

But then you heard it—the unmistakable sound of weights clanging, followed by a deep, low grunt that made your entire body freeze.

You glanced up, hoping against hope that it wasn’t who you thought it was. But, of course, there he was: Bucky, over at the hip thrust machine, setting up his weights directly in front of you. Perfect, you thought. Of all the machines in here, he has to pick the most… suggestive one.

Your eyes flicked back to the tiny screen on your machine. Stay focused, you told yourself. Don’t look. Just ignore him.

But the moment he started his set, you heard it—a low, powerful grunt that practically reverberated through the gym. You immediately bit down on your lip, forcing yourself to stare straight ahead, pretending you weren’t having flashbacks to his other kind of workouts.

Another deep grunt.

Your hands clenched the stair climber’s handles like a lifeline. Do NOT look, you told yourself, the mantra echoing in your mind. But your treacherous eyes slid sideways, just for a second, and you caught a glimpse of him, face focused, breaths heavy as he powered through each hip thrust. The guy was practically a one-man gym commercial.

You looked away, focusing on your steps—your very uneven, slightly panicked steps. It’s just a hip thrust, for crying out loud! Nothing unusual here, you told yourself, trying to stomp out the heat creeping up your cheeks. But every time he exhaled, your mind filled with images of… well, his other performances.

Then, in the middle of one of his reps, Bucky let out a particularly deep, guttural grunt that nearly threw you off balance. Your foot slipped, your rhythm stuttered, and in a moment of pure panic, you clutched the handles and stumbled forward, practically throwing yourself onto the machine.

“Shit!” you yelped, fumbling to regain your balance as your legs moved faster than your brain, desperately trying not to faceplant.

You heard Bucky chuckle, that low, infuriatingly amused laugh, and felt your cheeks practically ignite. You looked up, heart pounding, only to find him smirking in your direction, eyes dancing with mischief.

“Careful there, Y/N,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Stair climbers are brutal.”

“Oh, yeah, totally!” you squeaked, straightening up, trying to look like you meant to almost eat it. “Just… keeping things interesting. Got to keep the cardio exciting, you know?”

“Looks like it’s working,” he replied, wiping his forehead with a towel, his grin widening as he noticed your death grip on the machine. “You sure you’re good over there?”

“Oh, I’m… I’m great,” you lied, your face flaming as you tried to regain your composure. But he wasn’t done with you yet.

“Glad to hear it,” he said, voice way too smooth. He paused, then tilted his head, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Gotta admit, though… this machine setup does feel a bit familiar.”

Your brain nearly exploded. Did he just—? He couldn’t mean… But his eyes sparkled with that infuriating, knowing look, and you knew exactly what he was hinting at. Your face went beet red as your foot slipped again, but this time you managed to catch yourself, narrowly avoiding another disaster.

“Uh-huh,” you said, laughing nervously, desperately trying to hold it together. “Well, enjoy your… uh, workout!”

“Oh, I am,” he said, chuckling softly. “Especially with the view.” He winked, setting up for another set while you tried not to spontaneously combust.

With one final, mortified glance, you turned your attention back to the stair climber, mentally swearing you’d never step foot in this gym again after this.

Since you survived the stair climber ordeal without faceplanting (barely), you decided it was time to move on. Somewhere—anywhere—that didn’t involve Bucky’s hip thrusts or his incessant, maddening smirk.

You zeroed in on the bench press. Safe, you thought, relieved. Just a standard exercise. Nothing suggestive, no chance of stumbling, tripping, or looking like a klutz. You grabbed the bar, took a deep breath, and mentally prepped yourself. Easy-peasy.

And then—because the universe simply refused to give you a break—you heard that all-too-familiar voice right beside you.

“Need a spot?”

You looked up and almost swallowed your tongue. There was Bucky, looming over you with that same damn smirk, wiping his hands on a towel like he was gearing up for some personal training session from your worst/best nightmares.

“Oh, uh… I—” you stammered, already feeling the heat creep up your neck. You’ve got this, you told yourself. Just let him help you. No big deal. You’re a mature, fully-functioning adult.

“Yeah, sure!” you squeaked, trying to sound normal as he stepped closer, positioning himself behind the bench. You laid back, gripping the bar, and immediately realized what a horrible, terrible mistake this was. You were now lying flat on your back, Bucky leaning over you, his face far too close as he focused on making sure you could lift the weight.

“You ready?” he asked, his face all business, but his lips still had that mischievous curve.

“Ready,” you mumbled, eyes darting anywhere but up at him, trying to ignore how absolutely awkwardly intimate this felt. You started your set, breathing steadily as you lifted the bar, determined to act as if this were a completely normal workout.

But then, midway through the reps, he leaned down a little closer. “By the way, did you check out my new video?”

Your hands nearly slipped. You fumbled the bar, barely catching it as your brain short-circuited. 

“W-What?” you managed, voice strangled, heart racing.

“My new video,” he repeated, casually reaching out to help guide the bar back into place as you struggled not to lose it. “Thought you might’ve seen it by now.”

Your cheeks flamed, but you somehow managed to choke out, “N-No! I… I haven’t seen it!”

Bucky chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow as he straightened up, his voice taking on a teasing, almost disappointed tone. 

“Oh. That’s a shame,” he said, smirk lingering. “Didn’t have a costar this time—just me, actually. First time I’ve ever done that.”

Your mouth dropped open. Just him? Your brain skidded to a halt. Suddenly, you were far too interested in a video you’d just denied seeing. 

“Oh, um… interesting?” you squeaked, trying to keep your face neutral but definitely failing.

“Yeah,” he replied with a shrug, looking at you with twinkling eyes. “Guess you’ll have to let me know what you think… whenever you get around to it.”

“Actually, I… uh… I kind of stopped watching… since we, you know… know each other. Just… feels awkward.”

Bucky’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up with amusement. 

“Oh, so you’re telling me we’re too close for you to watch my work now?” He raised an eyebrow, looking mockingly offended. “I thought we were supporting local artists.”

Your cheeks practically combusted as he said it, and you fumbled with the bar, desperately trying to pretend you hadn’t heard him. Supporting local artists? Was he serious right now?

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, absolutely mortified. “This is not— You’re not— I mean…!”

But he just looked down at you, that smug grin firmly in place as he leaned in, clearly enjoying every second of your flustered state. 

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “Don’t you believe in supporting the arts?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, words completely failing you. “This… this is not the same!” you finally blurted, clutching the bar like it was your only lifeline.

“Oh really?” he replied, chuckling. “Because it sounds like you’re saying we’re too close for me to keep doing what I do. You know, my passion.”

You practically choked, waving your hands around in frantic denial. “No! No! That’s not— I’m not stopping you! I’m just— I don’t know, maybe supporting from a… distant, supportive spiritual place?”

He laughed outright, shaking his head. “So, what—you’re like cheering me on… but from across the street?”

You nodded vigorously, still trying to save face. “Exactly! Just… supportive… but in a non-participatory kind of way.”

“Got it,” he said, smirking. “So, I’m officially your guilty pleasure now.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as he chuckled, clearly far too pleased with himself. 

Note to self: Avoid all future conversations with Bucky Barnes for the rest of eternity.

× × × × 

That evening, you were finally settled at your dining table, a bowl of pasta in front of you, determined to put the entire gym disaster behind you. You’d survived another encounter with Bucky—barely—and now all you wanted was some quiet, non-embarrassing time with carbs.

But as you twirled your fork in the noodles, your brain betrayed you, replaying his words from earlier.

“Did you check out my new video?”

You paused mid-bite, the fork hovering near your mouth as you stared blankly at the wall, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and dread bubbling up. What could he have meant by “just me”? You tried to shake it off, forcing another forkful of pasta into your mouth. Nope, not going there.

But the thought lingered, nudging you, until you found yourself setting down the fork, fingers hovering over your phone. Just one quick search, you reasoned, glancing around your empty apartment as if someone might catch you.

You typed in the familiar site, thumbs hesitating above the search bar, nearly typing “SergeantBarnes new video” before you snapped back to reality, dropping the phone like it burned.

“Oh, no,” you muttered to yourself, horrified at how close you’d come. “Absolutely not. What am I, insane?”

You shoved another forkful of pasta into your mouth, shaking your head furiously. “I am not doing this.”

But as you continued eating, your eyes kept darting back to the phone, the curiosity gnawing at you, leaving you torn between common sense and the very persuasive power of nosiness.

You took a deep breath, clenching your fists. “Get a grip, Y/N. You are absolutely not watching that video.”

...But maybe just a preview?

You groaned, stuffing your face with more pasta, determined to win this internal battle.

× × × ×

The next morning, just as you were heading out the door for work, you spotted something bright and obnoxiously neon-colored taped to the wall near the mailboxes. Curiosity got the better of you, and you stepped closer, squinting at the bold, glittery letters.

POOL PARTY THIS WEEKEND! it proclaimed. Food, drinks, music, fun! Don’t miss it!

You raised an eyebrow, debating if you’d actually brave a building-wide party when suddenly, the quiet hallway was shattered by a loud, unmistakably ecstatic moan. The kind that could only mean one thing.

From none other than Bucky’s apartment.

You froze, eyes widening in disbelief. Is that—? Is he—?

A second moan, even louder than the first, confirmed it. This wasn’t just any moan; this was the sound of someone—some woman—having the time of her life. At what had to be eight o’clock in the morning.

“Oh, seriously?!” you hissed under your breath, glancing down the hallway as if there might be witnesses to this auditory ambush. Just then, the woman’s voice hit a pitch so high it practically reverberated off the walls.

You winced, clutching your bag like it could somehow shield you from this. Who even has that much energy in the morning? You took a step back, hoping to escape the sonic nightmare, but the moans only got louder, each sound more animated than the last.

You threw your hands over your ears, eyes squeezed shut as you muttered furiously to yourself. 

“Nope, nope, absolutely not. Not today, not right now.” You spun on your heel, practically power-walking down the hall, doing your best to drown out the soundtrack blaring from his apartment.

“YES, SERGEANT! OH MY GOD!”

You practically stumbled, muttering an alarmed, “Oh my god, stop!” as you picked up the pace, pressing your hands even harder against your ears. It was like some kind of cruel game—the closer you got to the elevator, the louder it seemed to get, echoing in your ears like a siren you couldn’t escape.

You winced, feeling your face burn as you all but sprinted down the hall, chanting, “Nope, nope, NOPE!” under your breath like a mantra. It was as if your feet couldn’t carry you fast enough, each step a desperate attempt to put some distance between you and… whatever was happening in that apartment.

Finally, you made it to the elevator, slamming your finger against the button with more force than necessary, glancing nervously over your shoulder as if the sounds might follow you. The doors mercifully slid open, and you dove inside, leaning back against the wall and pressing your hands over your ears one last time, breathing a sigh of relief.

But just as the doors began to close, one last triumphant shout echoed down the hallway, loud and clear, like the universe had decided you hadn’t suffered enough.

You groaned, staring up at the ceiling as the doors shut, wondering if this building had any quiet hours, or if you were doomed to start every morning with a full-blown soundscape of… Bucky’s extracurricular activities.

Note to self: Invest in earplugs. Maybe some noise-canceling headphones. Or a new apartment altogether.

× × × ×

You arrived at work looking like you’d barely survived a natural disaster. Traumatized, sleep-deprived, and still hearing the morning’s very loud soundtrack echoing in your mind, you slumped into your chair, hoping to quietly blend into the office scenery and get through the day in peace.

Naturally, that was too much to ask.

“Whoa,” Trish said, swiveling in her chair to eye you like you were a science experiment gone wrong. “You look like you just spent a night in a haunted house.”

“Or… like you had a wild morning,” Amy added, raising her eyebrows. “You okay there, Y/N?”

“Fine,” you muttered, barely making eye contact as you set your bag down, trying to erase the vivid flashbacks of Bucky’s… extremely enthusiastic co-worker.

Before you could even recover, Trish leaned in, her grin spreading like wildfire. “Sooo… did you finally get around to watching Sergeant Barnes’ new video?”

Your head snapped up, heart stopping in your chest. “Wha—no! Why would I… I mean… I—”

“Oh, come on,” Amy said, nudging you like she’d just caught you in a guilty pleasure. “You don’t know what you’re missing. He’s alone in this one.” She leaned closer, adding in a stage whisper, “The man has talent.”

“Uh-huh,” Trish agreed, nodding like a sage. “No costars this time. Just him, going all in. It’s… impressive.”

You clutched the edge of your desk, mentally scrambling for any kind of response that would shut them down without revealing the secret you swore you’d take to the grave: that Sergeant Barnes was actually your neighbor.

You swallowed, managing to squeak out, “You know we’re in an office, right? As in, the place we do work?”

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re all professional now!” Trish smirked, crossing her arms as she gave you a knowing look. “You were all too eager to do some ‘research’ when we told you about him the first time.”

“Yeah!” Amy joined in, her grin absolutely diabolical. “You should be thanking us! The way you’re looking right now, I’d bet you already took a look this morning.”

You spluttered, mortified. “No! I mean, of course not! It’s just—this is… inappropriate.”

Amy snorted, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh, sure. And here I thought you had a little curiosity.”

You glared, fully prepared to tell them off, but Amy cut in first, smirking as she leaned over your desk. 

“C’mon, Y/N, it’s just us girls. Tell me you don’t have some curiosity about what the man can do when it’s just him and the camera.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, struggling to keep your cool. “No, I’m not curious! Not at all. And maybe you two shouldn’t be either, because, oh, I don’t know… WE ARE AT WORK!”

They both cracked up, sharing a delighted high-five as you buried your face in your hands, praying for the ground to open up and swallow you.

“Oh, we’re just messing with you,” Trish said, barely holding back laughter. “But seriously, girl… you look like you need to unwind. Maybe with a drink or… you know… a little quality screen time?”

“Or maybe someone live and in-person?” Amy chimed in, waggling her eyebrows.

You groaned, face down on your desk, cursing the fact that they would never, ever know the full story.

× × × × 

You stepped into the lobby, utterly drained from the day, just as the elevator doors began to slide shut. Without a second thought, you bolted, slipping in right before they closed. Only then did you realize the universe was playing tricks on you.

Because standing right there, with a half-smirk on his face and way too much knowing mischief in his eyes, was Bucky. Alone.

You froze, instantly regretting every choice that had led to this moment. But it was too late now, so you plastered on a polite smile and tried not to look like a deer caught in headlights.

Bucky’s eyes twinkled as he took you in, leaning casually against the side of the elevator as he said, “Tired?”

You laughed, and before you could stop it, the laugh turned into a borderline deranged chuckle. 

“Oh, yes, thank you very much,” you replied, sarcasm slipping out before you could rein it in. Then, muttering under your breath but clearly audible, you added, “Maybe keep it down too… in the morning.”

He chuckled, looking way too amused. “Sorry about that. Work, you know? She, uh… went home right after, don’t worry.”

Your face went flaming hot, and you whipped your head to look straight ahead, pressing your lips together like that would somehow save you from this horror. 

“Oh, you don’t… you don’t have to explain it to me,” you stammered, feeling like your cheeks were practically on fire. “I’m not worried.”

The smirk only widened. “Good to know.” He leaned in just a little, adding, “I wouldn’t want to keep you up… unintentionally.”

You choked, your hand flying up to cover your mouth as you let out a mortified laugh that you could barely stop from turning into a squeak. Just get to your floor, just get to your floor… you chanted internally, keeping your gaze laser-focused on the elevator doors.

But you could feel him watching you, could practically feel the amusement radiating off him as you tried to pretend that your life hadn’t just devolved into a rom-com nightmare.

Finally—finally—the elevator dinged at your floor. You stepped out, sighing with relief, only for Bucky to step out right behind you.

“Hey,” he called, making you pause and turn reluctantly. He was smiling, hands casually shoved into his pockets as he looked you over. “Are you coming to the rooftop pool party this weekend?”

“No,” you replied flatly, the answer escaping before you could even pretend to think about it.

He laughed, clearly not deterred. “Aw, come on. You sure? It’ll be fun.”

You shook your head vigorously, waving him off. “No, no, I’m good. I’m… not much of a party person.”

“Really?” he replied, stepping a little closer, his smile turning into something dangerously persuasive. “It’s just neighbors hanging out, not some crazy nightclub thing. Good music, food… probably no loud… work, either.”

You glared, suppressing an eye roll as he gave you a wink. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, still grinning. “If you don’t show up, who am I going to talk to about all the ‘work’ complaints?”

You stifled a laugh, trying to maintain your resolve. “Pretty sure there are other people you can bother with that.”

“But none of them have your… constructive feedback,” he replied, his gaze dropping to the floor as he pretended to look shy. “And honestly, I need someone to keep me in check. I’m a handful at parties. Who else is going to stop me from climbing onto tables?”

You snorted, crossing your arms as you tried not to crack a smile. “I highly doubt you’re a handful at a pool party.”

He raised an eyebrow, challenging you. “Come and find out.”

You looked away, shaking your head but feeling the corners of your mouth tug upward. “Bucky, I’m not going.”

“So, you’re saying you’ll leave me up there with all these people who… don’t know me as well as you do?” He tilted his head, giving you a mock-pout.

Your face turned red, and you sputtered, “I don’t know you! I barely know you!”

“Oh, so all those research sessions weren’t exactly getting to know me?” he replied, grinning as he watched you turn an even deeper shade of crimson.

“You—ugh, you’re impossible,” you muttered, finally laughing despite yourself.

“That’s what everyone says,” he said, his voice softening just a little as he held your gaze. “Come on, Y/N. I promise, no loud work. I’ll even save you a spot.”

You sighed, feeling the last bit of resistance crumble. “Fine. But only for an hour.”

He beamed, triumphant. “Deal. And who knows? Maybe we’ll find something to actually talk about… outside of work.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart did a little flip. This is going to be a disaster, you thought. But somehow, you didn’t mind as much as you thought you would.

× × × × 

The weekend took forever to arrive, but somehow, you survived it—mostly by avoiding Bucky and doing your best not to think about that ridiculously intriguing video he’d hinted at. Nope, not even a peek. It was your own personal victory, though it took every ounce of willpower you had.

And now, here you were, standing at the rooftop entrance, mentally psyching yourself up. You’d put on a two-piece swimsuit under a white sheer cover-up, feeling only slightly self-conscious as you stepped out. Only because you hated drawing attention to your body. 

The party was already in full swing, a mix of upbeat music and laughter filling the air. You scanned the crowd for a certain troublemaking neighbor, but no sign of him. Great, you thought, rolling your eyes. Bucky drags me up here, then vanishes like an ass. Typical.

You made a beeline for an empty lounge chair, setting down your bag and towel, hoping you’d have a chance to relax before anyone else noticed you. But just as you were about to sit, a deep voice called out.

“Hey there!”

You turned to see an equally impressive figure—a tall, muscular guy with a sun-kissed smile, striding over with a confident swagger. 

“I’m Johnny,” he said, flashing a grin as he handed you a cold glass of beer. “Welcome to the party.”

“Oh! Thanks,” you said, taking the glass, feeling only slightly overwhelmed by all the testosterone on this rooftop. “Nice to meet you, Johnny.”

“Likewise,” he said, eyes flicking over you with the appreciation of someone who knew exactly what he was looking at. “Didn’t expect to see a new face up here. I know most of the regulars.”

“Yeah, I… usually keep to myself,” you admitted, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze.

“Well, glad you’re here,” he said smoothly, gesturing to a chair beside yours. “Mind if I join you?”

Before you could answer, another familiar voice cut through the air, low and unmistakably amused. “Johnny.”

You turned slowly, bracing yourself for whatever cocky look Bucky had in store, but when you finally laid eyes on him, your brain just… stopped. No thoughts, head empty, because the second he strolled into view, you swore you heard the sultry opening saxophone of Careless Whisper start playing, echoing dramatically in your head like some corny, slow-motion rom-com entrance.

He moved in perfect sync to the imaginary music in your head, each step more absurdly cinematic than the last. This can’t be happening, you thought, but somehow, there he was—tan skin, swim trunks slung just right, and that damn casual shirt hanging open over his shoulders. The man looked like a vacation ad, except he was bringing you dangerously close to a heatstroke.

As he got closer, the sax solo in your mind reached ridiculous, life-altering levels of intensity. Why do you have to look like this? you thought, nearly choking on the vision before you. Bucky’s smirk turned into something almost smug, like he knew exactly what effect he was having, as if he, too, could hear the George Michael anthem of seduction playing in your head. You half-expected him to whip out an actual saxophone and start serenading you right there.

You swallowed, barely keeping yourself from drooling, and willed yourself to stay composed. Get a grip, you told yourself, though you were about 98% certain your jaw was on the verge of dropping.

“Sorry, Johnny,” he said smoothly, not even glancing at the other guy. “I think she already has company.”

You quickly tried to compose yourself, forcing a neutral expression as you willed your face not to betray the sheer catastrophe your brain was going through. 

“Oh, hey, Bucky,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t sound as strangled as you felt. Inside, you were practically screaming. Why do you have to look like a freaking Greek god, Barnes? It’s rude, honestly.

Johnny raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking between the two of you, clearly picking up on the tension. “You two know each other?”

Bucky leaned casually against the lounge chair next to yours, flashing a grin that practically oozed mischief. 

“You could say that. She’s my neighbor,” he said, his tone implying… well, all sorts of things. You immediately knew that everyone within earshot was definitely getting the wrong idea. “And I’ve been trying to get her to come out of her shell for a while now.”

Come out of her shell? You wanted to throttle him. But before you could retort, Johnny, ever the gentleman, just gave you a knowing wink and clapped Bucky on the shoulder. 

“Well, guess I’ll let you take over, then,” he said, sauntering off with an amused smile.

You sighed, turning to face Bucky, who looked all too pleased with himself as he settled in beside you, stretching out like he owned the place. 

“So, you made it,” he said, taking a leisurely sip of his drink as his eyes did a once-over that was a little too thorough.

“Yep,” you replied, your voice barely concealing your exasperation. “I showed up, just like I said I would. Where were you?”

He shrugged, that stupid smirk still plastered on his face. “Was just giving you a chance to make some new friends,” he said, his tone way too casual.

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of the beer Johnny had given you. “Please. You just love making an entrance.”

He chuckled, clinking his glass with yours. “Can’t say you’re wrong about that.”

As he leaned back, his gaze lingered a little too long, making your cheeks heat up. 

“Nice cover-up, by the way,” he commented, smirk widening. “It’s… modest.”

You shot him a look, feeling suddenly self-conscious about the sheer fabric draped over your swimsuit. “Why, thank you. That was kind of the point.”

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice dropping just a notch. “Shame, though. Bet that swimsuit’s got a whole lot of personality under there.”

You practically choked on your drink, coughing as you glared at him. “You’re such a flirt, Barnes.”

He chuckled, clearly unbothered by your reaction. “Hey, just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

You settled back in your chair, determined not to let him get the upper hand. But as you sat there, pretending to ignore him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite everything, you were enjoying this game just as much as he was.

You took a deep breath, narrowing your eyes at Bucky, who was looking far too pleased with himself. 

“Like I said, just one hour,” you told him firmly, crossing your arms as if that would somehow fortify your resolve against whatever mischievous plans he undoubtedly had.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning even more devilish. “Oh, I’m sure an hour will be more than enough.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “For what? So you can drive me insane and then sit back and enjoy the show?”

He chuckled, leaning a little closer, and you felt your heart rate spike. “Maybe. But I was thinking more along the lines of just… keeping you entertained.”

“Oh, I’m plenty entertained, thanks,” you shot back, trying to sound unimpressed despite the heat creeping up your neck.

He shrugged, unfazed, and settled back into his lounge chair. 

“Good. Then let’s make it the best hour of your week,” he said, flashing you a wink that sent a new wave of exasperation—and, annoyingly, a bit of excitement—through you.

You huffed, shaking your head as you took a sip of your drink, determined not to let him see just how much that smirk was affecting you. Just one hour, you reminded yourself. What could possibly happen in one hour?

As you and Bucky settled into a strange, almost comfortable silence, you heard a booming voice from across the pool.

“CHICKEN FIGHT!” Johnny’s voice rang out, loud and enthusiastic, immediately grabbing everyone’s attention.

You whipped your head around, eyes widening. Johnny was wading into the pool, rallying everyone like some kind of pool party commander. “Come on! Everyone in! We need two teams!”

“Oh, no,” you muttered under your breath, instinctively shrinking into your lounge chair, hoping you’d be overlooked in the shuffle. Absolutely not happening, you thought, clutching your drink like a lifeline.

But Bucky, of course, was already grinning ear to ear. He turned to you, his eyes gleaming with excitement and mischief. 

“You heard him,” he said, patting your shoulder like this was some team-building exercise. “We’re going in.”

“What? No!” you hissed, clutching your drink tighter as if that would save you. “I didn’t sign up for a chicken fight. I’m just here for moral support.”

Bucky laughed, standing up and stretching in that way that only he could pull off without looking ridiculous. 

“Oh, come on,” he said, flashing you that smug, challenging grin. “Afraid of a little friendly competition?”

You shook your head, digging your heels in. “Nope. Not happening. And it’s not friendly—it’s dangerous!”

“Oh, don’t be such a chicken.” His smirk widened, and then, with a theatrical sigh, he added, “Guess I’ll just have to find someone braver.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh, you’re really going to play that card?”

He shrugged, glancing around with feigned disappointment. “Guess so. Shame though. I thought you could handle it.”

It was the final straw. With an exasperated groan, you threw down your drink and stood up. 

“Fine! I’ll do it.” The second the words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them, especially as you saw Bucky’s smirk morph into full-blown satisfaction.

“Perfect,” he said, clearly thrilled with himself.

You sighed, slipping off your sheer cover-up, feeling a sudden self-consciousness as you stood there in just your swimsuit. Bucky’s gaze flicked over you with open admiration, his grin widening just a bit. You forced yourself to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, rolling your eyes at his blatant staring.

“Enjoying the view?” you deadpanned.

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat, his eyes twinkling. “But we’ve got a fight to win.”

Before you could second-guess your decision, he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the pool. Johnny spotted the two of you and cheered, pumping his fist in the air. “Yes! We got a team! Bucky and… Y/N, right?”

You forced a smile, giving him a thumbs-up while silently planning your escape route. But before you knew it, you were waist-deep in the water, Bucky hoisting you up with surprising ease, positioning you on his shoulders.

“Oh my god, this is insane,” you muttered, gripping onto his head for balance as he adjusted to your weight. “I feel like a five-year-old at a theme park.”

“Just hold on,” he chuckled, steadying himself under you. “I’ve got you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his hands firmly held your thighs, and suddenly, this was a whole new level of intense. Focus on the fight, not the incredibly attractive man holding you in the pool, you told yourself, cheeks flaming.

Johnny waded over with his partner—a muscular, tattooed guy named Jake who was definitely taking this way too seriously. 

“Ready to lose, Barnes?” Jake taunted, grinning up at you.

Bucky chuckled, his hands tightening on your legs just slightly. “Not a chance.”

“Alright, you’re up top!” Johnny yelled, clapping his hands. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

You barely had time to brace yourself before Jake and his partner charged at you, water splashing everywhere as they made their move. Instinctively, you shrieked, grabbing onto Bucky’s hair for dear life as the force of the impact sent you both wobbling.

“Easy on the hair!” Bucky grunted, though he was laughing, his shoulders steadying beneath you as he held his ground.

“Oh, sorry!” you gasped, adjusting your grip. But before you could even catch your breath, Jake’s partner was lunging at you again, arms flailing as he tried to knock you off balance.

“Oh, no you don’t!” you muttered, your competitive spirit kicking in. You threw your hands out, grabbing his wrists and pushing back with everything you had, determined to hold your ground.

“Yeah, that’s it!” Bucky cheered from below, his laughter bubbling up as he shifted to help keep you steady. “Show ‘em what you’ve got!”

Fueled by his encouragement—and a surprising amount of adrenaline—you leaned forward, pushing against Jake’s partner with all your strength. The guy’s face twisted in concentration, but with one final shove, you managed to throw him off balance. He teetered, arms flailing, before finally toppling backward into the water with a massive splash.

“Yes!” you shouted, punching the air triumphantly as Johnny and Jake went down in a flurry of water and defeat. “Suck on that!”

The words had barely left your mouth when reality crashed back in. You blinked, suddenly realizing that maybe—just maybe—you’d gotten a little too carried away. Oh god, did I really just shout that? you thought, the heat rushing to your cheeks as your triumphant grin quickly turned into a sheepish smile.

“Well, look at you,” Bucky chuckled from below, clearly amused by your victory-induced outburst. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Yeah, well… neither did I,” you muttered, feeling the embarrassment settling in as you tried to slide off his shoulders, desperate to save whatever shred of dignity you had left. But as you started to wriggle down, you realized Bucky’s hands were still firmly gripping your thighs, holding you in place.

You froze, looking down at him. “Uh, Bucky… you can, you know… let go now.”

He glanced up, smirking. “Oh, but you’re comfortable up there. Why rush it?”

You huffed, your face going a deeper shade of red. “Because I’m very much done being the human flagpole, thank you very much.”

Bucky’s grin only widened as he kept his hold, clearly enjoying the situation far more than he should. “Nah, I think I like you right where you are. Adds a bit of… height to my reputation.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, feeling your mortification level spike. “If you don’t let me down, I swear I’ll—”

“Fine, fine,” he laughed, finally loosening his grip, letting you slide back into the water. But just as your feet touched down, he didn’t back away—instead, he shifted closer, his hands still lingering on your waist, his gaze locking onto yours with a look that sent your pulse racing.

You took a half-step back, but there was no real room to escape, not with the edge of the pool just behind you and Bucky’s broad frame in front, all mischief and steady, unbreakable eye contact. 

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low, “you could stay longer.”

Your breath hitched as Bucky leaned just the slightest bit closer, his hands still warm and steady on your waist, his smirk turning softer yet somehow more intense. Every nerve in your body seemed to jolt to life as he held your gaze.

You cleared your throat, attempting to find your voice amid the chaos of your thoughts. 

“Uh… stay longer? For what?” you managed, trying to sound casual, though your pulse was anything but.

His smirk grew, the corners of his mouth lifting in that way that was dangerously charming. 

“For the victory lap, of course,” he murmured, his voice just above a whisper. “After all, we did just crush the competition. Wouldn’t want you running off too fast.”

“Oh, right, a victory lap,” you muttered, trying to regain your composure but finding it difficult with his hands still lingering on your waist. “But I think the whole pool just watched that ‘lap’…”

“Then they got a good show,” he chuckled, his voice warm with that teasing tone you were starting to know all too well. “But the best part of winning is savoring it… right here.”

Your face went hot as his fingers brushed slightly against your sides, sending a little spark of energy straight up your spine. 

“Bucky,” you said, the word barely a whisper. “You’re… awfully close.”

“Oh, am I?” He didn’t back away; instead, he raised a brow, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “Didn’t hear you complaining when you were up there, champ.”

Your cheeks went impossibly warmer. “That was different. That was, you know… competitive. Strategic.”

“Competitive and strategic?” he echoed, his grin turning almost wicked. “Well, in that case…” He shifted his hands slightly, bringing you even closer as he leaned in. “Let’s see if you’re still competitive outside the game.”

He hovered just a breath away, his gaze flickering to your lips for a moment that felt like an eternity. You felt yourself leaning in almost on instinct, your pulse racing, and for one wild, heart-stopping second, it seemed like he might actually kiss you.

But then, as if on cue, someone nearby let out a loud, obnoxious cheer, snapping both of you out of the moment. The sound jolted you, and you quickly took a step back, breaking the tension as reality crashed in.

Bucky chuckled softly, looking slightly too smug as he let his hands fall from your waist. 

“Guess that victory lap will have to wait,” he murmured, giving you one last look that promised he wasn’t quite finished with his teasing yet.

You swallowed, desperately trying to get your heart rate back to normal. “Yeah, guess so.”

As the night went on, you’d lost count of how many concoction drinks had been handed to you, and at this point, your usual sense of caution was practically nonexistent. The rooftop was a haze of laughter, lights, and music, and the whole place felt like it was buzzing with energy. Any embarrassment from earlier had dissolved into pure, uninhibited confidence, each drink making you feel bolder than the last.

One minute, you were in a drinking game, cheering Bucky on as he took down a round of shots like it was nothing. The next, you found yourself in a game of truth or dare that had somehow escalated into body shots. You’d laughed, nearly choking on your drink, when you saw Bucky sprawled out on a table, daring you with that infuriating grin to take your turn.

“Oh, come on, that's not fair,” you slurred, trying to wave off the dare as he raised an eyebrow, that smug look firmly in place.

“Back out now if you can’t handle it,” he teased, lying back and folding his arms behind his head, acting like he hadn’t a care in the world.

The crowd cheered you on, and fueled by liquid courage, you rolled your eyes and leaned down, pressing your lips to his abs, feeling his warm skin under your touch as you took the shot in a quick, heated moment. His laughter mingled with the cheers around you, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush from the attention, from his gaze, from the heat spreading across your face.

Before you knew it, you were in a round of flip cup with Bucky as your teammate, and he downed his drink, slamming his cup down with a victorious shout. He grabbed you by the waist, lifting you up and spinning you around, both of you laughing so hard you could barely stand straight when he finally set you down.

Somehow, you ended up on the makeshift dance floor, music thumping as the party around you roared on, the lights around the rooftop pool casting a glow over everyone. You’d danced with other people throughout the night, but Bucky seemed to have a way of drawing you back, his energy magnetic, his laughter contagious. It was like he was everywhere you turned, keeping pace with you, matching every laugh and smirk with one of his own.

The music thumped, lights flashed, and the DJ’s voice blared over the speakers, “Alright, party people! Here’s the deal—find someone you want to… get close to tonight and give them a kiss, a hug, heck, even a lick if you’re feeling bold!”

Everyone around you burst into cheers and laughter, the party’s energy wild and reckless. By now, you were buzzing on so much liquid courage that everything felt like the best idea ever, including the fact that you were swaying against Bucky, who’d somehow stayed by your side all night.

He leaned in, his smirk way too mischievous, and the alcohol made it feel impossibly close. 

“Did you hear that?” he slurred, barely keeping the laughter out of his voice. “I think it’d be a shame if we ignore the DJ’s request don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush it off, but he just grinned wider, leaning in until his cheek was practically pressed against yours. 

“Hold still,” he whispered, a laugh lurking in his voice.

Then, in a move so outrageous you could barely comprehend it, he dragged his tongue slowly from your chin up to your forehead.

“Bucky!” you shrieked, stumbling back and half falling over yourself, laughter bubbling out of you as you clutched your face in shock. “Oh my god, you did not just—”

He stepped back, looking beyond pleased with himself, the grin on his face pure, unfiltered pride. 

“What? I’m just being… obedient,” he slurred, raising his hands in mock innocence.

“You are the worst!” you squealed, laughing so hard you could barely keep it together, grabbing his arm as you steadied yourself, still half in disbelief. He just chuckled, clearly reveling in your reaction as he pulled you right back into the rhythm, your laughter mixing with the cheers around you as the dance floor pulsed with music.

They cranked up the music, and suddenly, the beat was all around you, pulsing through the crowd, as if daring everyone to let loose. The energy was infectious, and you found yourself moving in sync with him, laughing as you danced together, every touch and sway between you crackling with a chemistry that had been simmering all night.

Without thinking, you stepped closer, your hands drifting to his chest, letting your fingers splay against the warm, solid muscle. Your movements grew slower, more deliberate, and his hands instinctively found your waist, pulling you against him until there was barely any space left between you. His gaze dropped, glued on your lips, and you felt a shiver run through you, your breath hitching as he leaned in, his face just inches from yours. His nose brushed yours, and you looked up to meet his gaze, seeing the same surprised intensity reflected in his eyes.

Bucky held your gaze, his breath mingling with yours, and you could feel the tension building, electric and undeniable. He was waiting—leaving the next move up to you. If you wanted him, you knew he’d let you take him.

🎶Just let me know, can you be the one to hold and not let me go?🎶

Heart pounding, you somehow managed to press yourself even closer, feeling the swell of your chest against him, igniting a flush across his cheeks. But it wasn’t embarrassment you saw in his eyes—it was heat, a look that sent a thrill down your spine. His hand shifted, his fingers tracing along the curve of your hip, and you could feel the strength of his grip as he held you.

🎶I need to know, could you be the one to call when I lose control?🎶

The tension was unbearable, and as you tilted your face up, your lips brushed his in the softest, most hesitant caress—a question, an invitation. His resolve crumbled instantly. His hand slid to your waist, gripping the flesh there as his other hand threaded into your hair, guiding your head back so he could kiss you deeper, tasting you with an intensity that left you breathless. You let out a startled, breathless sound, and he responded by pulling you closer, cradling your face as if you were something precious, something he couldn’t bear to let go of.

Your lips parted for him, and he kissed you with a hunger that had been building for some time. His tongue traced yours, swallowing your quiet moans, anchoring you to him as his hand kept you steady. It wasn’t forceful, just… tender, like he was holding something priceless.

Your breaths came heavy, your cheeks flushed, but you barely noticed; all you could feel was him, his touch, his heartbeat pounding against yours, and the fire in his veins matching your own. In that moment, propriety, the crowd around you, everything else faded into oblivion. If he wanted you to take him right there, you couldn’t even think of saying no.

Every nerve in your body was alive, tingling with an incredible sense of lust and need as his arms held you close. His lips pressed harder, deepening the kiss, his passion and intensity only spurring you to match it. You melted against him, completely consumed by the heat and need between you, and for those moments, it was as if nothing else existed. Oxygen became secondary; the only thing that mattered was the connection between you, growing more fervent with each second.

Finally, when the need for air became overwhelming, you both broke apart, gasping, your faces inches from each other, breaths mingling as you took each other in. His lips tingled, mirroring your own, and every beat of your heart seemed to urge you back into his embrace.

“Let’s get out of here… yours or mine?” Bucky stammered between breaths, his voice husky, his eyes still filled with fire. His body radiated heat, and he looked like he’d dive into the pool at any second just to cool down.

“Mine,” you whispered, your voice breathless, cheeks flushed, a shy smile tugging at your lips as you held his gaze.

× × × × 

You both barely made it down the hallway before the urgency hit, the tension that had been building all night finally snapping. Bucky’s hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, pulling you against him as you fumbled for your keys, the both of you practically tripping over each other in your haste. As soon as you managed to unlock the door, you pushed it open, stumbling inside, his mouth crashing into yours before it even closed behind you.

Wetness pooled inside you, the need for him overwhelming as you pressed back against the door, his body meeting yours in a frenzy of heat and desperation. His stubble scraped against your skin, rough and deliciously manly, a reminder that he was all raw power and intensity. You loved it, the way it scratched against your cheek, adding to the thrill and making your skin tingle wherever he touched.

His lips found the side of your neck, warm and insistent as he kissed his way down, nipping softly, each touch leaving you breathless. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, exposing the full length of your neck to his hungry mouth. His hands slid up your sides, his fingers pressing in firmly, possessively, as his teeth grazed your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“God,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

You could only gasp, clutching onto him as his mouth moved up to your jaw, his hands never stilling, gripping you as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Bucky reached a hand up and placed it on your left breast, over the bikini top, and then brought his hand up to the back of your neck to pull you in closer to him. You undid the straps of your top, and down fell the top, exposing your naked breasts to him.

Holy shit—this can’t be real. Am I hallucinating? Is this actually happening? Wait—oh god, is he about to put my boobs in his mouth?!

Like a hungry child desperate for milk Bucky suckled on your nipple, squeezing the bottom of your breast passionately with one hand, and holding the other breast in his other hand. You looked down at him, licking, sucking, rubbing, and he looked as though he was transported to paradise.

He worked himself into a frenzy playing with your breast, until he wanted more. He lifted you up under your thighs, off the floor, and pressed your back against the wall.

Oh shit!

He kissed you again, his hand sliding down to press against you over your bikini bottom. With a quick, desperate motion, he tugged the fabric to the side, his fingers brushing bare skin, making your breath hitch.

As his hand cupped you, he began to move slowly, his fingers exploring, teasing. “Damn,” he murmured, his voice thick with surprise and satisfaction. “You’re so wet. Is this what happens every time you watch my videos?”

“M-maybe…” you stammered, cheeks heating, barely able to meet his eyes as a grin spread across his face.

His fingers slid inside you, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each motion sending sparks through your entire body. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he asked, “How many times have you touched yourself thinking about me?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan as he continued, each movement intensifying the heat pooling inside you. 

“Mmmh—why would I tell you that?” you managed, trying to sound teasing but barely able to keep your voice steady.

His grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes as his fingers pressed deeper, his thumb brushing against you just right. “Because I want to hear every filthy detail.”

He kissed your other nipple, the one he missed when before. Bucky always gave equal time to the breasts. Suckling on one nipple, fingering you harder and harder, you were getting more and more excited for the moment he would penetrate you.

“Oh my god—” You swallowed, feeling your face heat up and you could feel yourself slightly sobering up. With a nervous laugh, you finally gave in, your voice soft but steady.

“Fine… sometimes, late at night—ah—I’d imagine you between my legs, devouring me like your life depended on it,” you whispered, feeling your cheeks burn. “I’d—fuck—I’d think about your hands, the way they’d feel inside me, moving exactly like this…mmmh,” you gasped as his fingers pressed deeper, your own words sparking the desire between you. 

His fingers never stopped their steady, torturous rhythm, each movement deliberate, coaxing you toward the edge with a patience that was as maddening as it was intoxicating.

“And? That’s it?” he asked, his tone thick with amusement, daring you to reveal more. His thumb brushed against you in just the right way, as if encouraging you to keep talking, to give him every last detail he was craving.

“And—hah—I’d picture you… spitting in my mouth while you’re turning me on, you’d put your hand on my neck while I beg you to i dunno? reorganize my guts—because you’re so big Bucky. . . I don’t think you’ll fit inside me.”

“Oh the innocent looking ones are always the dirtiest.” Bucky’s smirk turned darker, his fingers pressing into you with a newfound intensity, his digits hooking and pressing into your most sensitive spot, causing your hips to jerk against his palm. 

“And was I just as good in your imagination as I am now?” he murmured, voice low and rough, sending shivers straight down your spine.

“Yes… yes…” The words left your lips almost involuntarily, your hands gripping his shoulders as your nails dug in, grounding yourself against the overwhelming sensation. Your face twisted with pleasure, each stroke of his digits making it harder to catch your breath. 

Bucky’s eyes darkened with a fierce satisfaction as he watched you, his smirk deepening. “Better than you imagined?”

"Mhhm," you tried to respond, but it came out more like a needy moan, your voice barely a whisper under the intensity of his touch.

Bucky's smirk grew at the sound, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he took in every reaction, every tremble. "That’s what I thought," he murmured, his voice dark and teasing.

Bucky carried you through the open door of your bedroom, his movements purposeful, every touch sending sparks across your skin. When he reached the edge of the bed, he lowered you onto the mattress, but before letting you go, he bent down to capture your lips in a kiss—a kiss that felt as intimate as it did electrifying.

You couldn’t help but notice the difference; this was something he never did in his videos. Bucky never kissed anyone on the lips on screen. But here, he kissed you slowly, deeply.

His hands moved to your shoulders, firm but gentle as he guided you back into the soft downy mattress. “There you go, baby,” he murmured, his voice warm and low. “Lean back.”

He knelt down at the side of the bed. He pulled off your panties, the final barrier to your sex. He pushed your legs apart and back, and gazed at your pussy, already wet for him.

He stared at your exposed pussy for ten seconds, admiring it like it was the greatest work of art he had ever seen.

"Your pussy," he said, his lips nearly brushing your sex. "It's beautiful.”

You lifted your  head up and looked at him. Your jaw was dropped and you were already starting to feel tingles up your body, even though he hadn't licked you yet. You heard his breathing get heavier and heavier, he was so excited to put his lips on your pussy.

Two large fingers of his left hand spread your lips. Two large fingers of his right hand rubbed your clit in strong circles. Each circle sends a shock wave through your body.

"You smell fantastic," he declared, and he dove his mouth right on top of your wet and stimulated clit. Up and down he licked. Up and down, his mouth clasped tight against your pussy.

"Oh," you moaned, as your eyes rolled up to the back of your head. Your arms—with a mind of their own—grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted them back, presenting yourself to this man who used to be on the screen and was now bringing you to ecstasy. He'd only just started to lick you, but even so you felt ready for him to enter you and never leave. 

As Bucky continued to eat you like you’re his last meal, each suction sending thrills through you, a sudden wave of doubt crashed over you, freezing you in place. Images flooded your mind—women he’d been with, all effortlessly beautiful, the kind who exuded confidence and allure. How could you compare? This had to be nothing more than another fleeting thing for him, a “friendship” that would end the moment the night was over.

You tensed, your hands moving to gently push him back. “Bucky… wait,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up from between your legs, his expression softening instantly as he met your gaze. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle, concerned.

“I… I just…” You stammered, the words getting caught in your throat before you finally managed, “I don’t want to be… one of your girls.”

Bucky blinked, taken aback, his expression shifting as if the words had struck something unexpected, almost offended. 

“One of my girls?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you searched for the right way to explain. “I… I don’t do one-night stands,” you admitted, feeling vulnerable. 

Bucky nodded slowly, his tongue pressing into his cheek as he rose to his feet. "Mhm—no, I get it... it's because of my job," he said, his tone carrying a hint of defensiveness.

You sat up, noticing the shift in his demeanor. "Are you mad?" you asked softly, uncertainty creeping into your voice.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not mad," he replied, though his clenched jaw suggested otherwise. "I just didn't think you'd see me that way."

"See you what way?" you pressed gently.

He met your gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "Like I'm some guy who just goes around collecting flings," he explained. "I thought you knew me better than that."

You swallowed, choosing your words carefully. “It's not that I think poorly of you,” you said. “It's just... your work makes things complicated for me. I don't want to be another notch on anyone's belt.”

He took a deep breath, his expression softening. “I understand where you're coming from,” he admitted. “But believe me when I say that this—” he gestured between the two of you “—is different for me.”

“How do I know that?” you asked quietly.

He stepped closer, his eyes sincere. “Because I don't share moments like this with just anyone,” he said. “You think I go around kissing people like that? Off-camera, in my real life?”

Bucky’s expression shifted, his brows knitting together as he crossed his arms, clearly growing more frustrated. “I thought you knew the difference between who I am on-camera and who I am off it,” he replied, his tone clipped.

You sighed, trying to hold your ground. “Bucky, you’re the one who kept teasing me to watch your videos, practically encouraging me to make it my new hobby—how am I supposed to ignore what you do?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair in irritation. “Because those videos aren’t me,” he said, voice rising. “You’re acting like everything I do there is just some extension of my personal life, but it’s a job, Y/N. I don’t go around living like that off-set.”

You crossed your arms, not caring that the blanket had slipped off, leaving you bare before him. 

“And I’m supposed to just... pretend that all of it doesn’t mean anything?” you shot back, feeling a twinge of vulnerability but refusing to let it show. “You kept making those jokes, those comments—you have to see how confusing it is for me.”

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “And you think I just do that with everyone? That every person who walks into my life gets these... moments with me?” His gaze softened slightly as he gestured between the two of you. “If that were the case, do you think I’d be here, right now, trying to convince you?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words caught in your throat. His intensity was throwing you off balance, forcing you to question your assumptions. You’d expected him to brush this off or laugh, not take it to heart.

He shook his head, a frustrated laugh escaping him. “You don’t get it, do you?” He looked at you, his eyes full of something you couldn’t quite name. “I don’t have to be here, fighting for this. I could have walked away and yet here I am.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat as the weight of his words settled heavily between you. The intensity of his gaze, the raw honesty in his voice—it was all too much, too fast, and yet it tugged at something deep inside you, making it impossible to brush off. But your heart was pounding, confusion and vulnerability swirling together, and you weren’t ready to face everything his words were unearthing.

“I… I think we should call it a night,” you said quietly, barely able to meet his gaze, the words coming out softer than you intended.

For a moment, he looked at you, his expression unreadable, and you could see him processing your response. Then, with a quiet sigh, he nodded, stepping back to give you space.

“Alright,” he replied, his voice subdued. “If that’s what you want.”

The room felt suddenly colder, the tension between you now tinged with a quiet ache. You could tell he was holding back more that he wanted to say, but he respected your decision, his expression guarded as he looked away.

You bit your lip, your mind racing with things you couldn’t bring yourself to say, with emotions you weren’t quite ready to admit. 

“Thank you… for understanding,” you managed, feeling the weight of your choice settle over you.

He gave a small nod, his jaw tight, before he turned toward the door. 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said softly, pausing for a moment as if hoping you might change your mind, before finally leaving your apartment, the main door shutting made you flinch even though Bucky closed it softly.

The silence that followed felt heavier than you expected. The tension that had filled the room moments ago lingered, and a wave of frustration washed over you, mixing with regret and uncertainty. You took a shaky breath, running a hand through your hair before letting out a long, exhausted sigh.

Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest pillow, buried your face into it, and let out a muffled scream, releasing all the emotions you couldn’t quite put into words. The pillow absorbed the sound, but it did nothing to ease the twist of emotions churning inside you. Finally, you pulled the pillow away, feeling just as conflicted as before, wondering if you’d made the right choice… or a terrible mistake.

tags: @bohoooitsme @barnescamboy @strangefunthornqueen @mayusenpai666 @seven0714

@rabbitrabbit12321 @alexsl-universe @xunquish-blog @hzdhrtss @winchestert101

@alyana-luvs-u @itsbuckysworld

[heegyukeluv]

the devil wears prada (sjy)

pairing: idol!jake x afab!reader

synopsis: As Sim Jaeyun stepped out of Prada’s after party, everyone ignored his goodbyes to the sea of paparazzis, because the buzz was about the lucky person who got to disheveled his hair. Jake’s honest answer for that was: the devil. And she for sure wears Prada.

my's note: i love how everyone saw Jake’s after-party photos and thought the same thing (i'm everyone). disheveled hair jake after-party prada that’s all. and i just realized i don’t know how to write a quickie lol enjoy <3 (please take into consideration this is a work of fiction, this doesn't represents the artist's image)

warnings: SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, protected sex, oral (f. receiving), cum eating, quickie but not really, public (?) bathroom sex, mirror sex, reader is quite dom with jake (i can't help myself), mention of alcohol. lmk if i missed something!

wc: 5.4k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire

The air was thick with the scent of luxury – champagne and expensive perfumes mingling with the buzz of the conversations in every corner of the room.

You had your back leaning against the marble counter of the bar, fingers nonchalantly tracing the edge of your vibrant drink and eyes drifting through the sea of people. Everyone was dressed to impress, each guest showcasing their creativity through Prada’s clothes, accessories and shoes.

Working in the fashion industry came with perks, and being invited to exclusive after-parties was undoubtedly the best one. So you weren’t a stranger to this world. The glamourist atmosphere, the music playing as a soft background, the dim lights casting a perfect blend of elegance and casualness over the place.

It made your body shiver with joy, fulfillment at its most filling your chest, as the surroundings seemed to confirm what you already knew: you were in the right place – your place.

Earlier, at the main event, you watched the showcase with sparkling eyes, recording specific moments to use later as inspiration for your own creativity process. You loved how free you could be with your ideas while doing your work, not to mention the possibility of adding tons of yourself to it. Some might call it an egoistic behavior, as if your job existed solely for your own satisfaction. But the creation was yours, so why shouldn’t the outcome be about you too?

You took another sip of your drink, your sharp gaze scanning the room.

As soon as you stepped at the after-party, many other designers and some artists approached to compliment both your visual and your work, and you confidently talked with them. Yet, coming not from one, but from a few of them, there was an underlying tone; their praises were not solely aimed at your outfit or your impeccable creations, but rather an attempt to carve a path to your heart – or, perhaps, under your dress.

You never denied you had a good appearance. Together with your sense of style and your fearless demeanor, you enchanted anyone who crossed your way. The badass woman aura you exhaled was almost palpable and extremely hot for those who watched – with heart and lustful eyes – as you passed by.

Despite the usual lingering intense gazes on you, far from feeling intimidated or even shy by them, there was one pair of eyes burning deeper, piquing your curiosity as you kept on searching for its owner. 

It was like you every motion was being captured by them, following you across the room, and no matter how many conversations you effortlessly maneuvered through, all you could feel was the constant, intense weight of the said gaze.

After one more drink and some uninterested noddings at the guy who took place near you at the bar, you finally found him.

Sitting on the middle sofas of the main room, drink in hand, together with his group, devil eyes staring at you shamelessly, biting his lip and looking extremely hot as doing so.

You quirked an eyebrow in his direction, not even bothering to follow the bla-bla-bla coming from the random guy anymore, his words sounding like nothing to you at that point.

Especially because the attractive man looking at you didn’t even flinch after getting caught, as if it was the purpose from the beginning. If anything, he deepened eye contact in a daring, cocky manner, almost challenging you to react over the tension that started to hang in the air between you two.

Unlucky to him, you weren’t the type to follow anyone’s lead but yours, so you simply let out a soft scoff, a smirk tugging at your lips as you deliberately took another sip of your drink without breaking the new unspoken game – the one you were sure you would win.

You observed closely how he drifted his gaze away from yours just to blatantly check you out, stopping on your bare thighs for a moment before doing the same on your exposed chest, the neckline of your dress giving the perfect bait for men like him.

He shifted on his seat, gulping and then assaulting his lower lip with his teeth once more, as if trying to contain himself from running all the way to you, just to undress you properly instead of keep on doing that with his glare. 

You would be lying if you said that his demeanor wasn’t helping to ignite the fire from your core to your entire body, skin heating with a hint of desire. Even so, you waited patiently.

The random designer talking to you was long gone already, though you barely noticed, unnecessarily engrossed in your little game.

With a subtle, innocent tilt of your chin, you motioned your head slowly as a signal, beckoning him to come closer, without breaking eye contact. The simple gesture caught him off guard; his confident atmosphere stumbling to keep itself up, eyes growing wide in surprise, and you found it irresistibly adorable.

The corner of your lips curled when he stood up after whispering something to one of his friends, who quickly glanced at you and then showed a small smile. You finished your drink as he made his way over, his steps relaxed, but his eyes avoiding yours. You almost chuckled at the endearing scene.

As he approached, you noticed how young he seemed to be, perhaps even younger than you. Not to mention his incredible inebriating fragrance and self beauty – the plump pink lips and the high bridge nose perfectly sculpted doing things to you.

“Hey,” he greeted, eyes straightaway dropping to your exposed neckline, lingering on the curve of your chest.

You leaned in just slightly, making sure he got a better view, batting your lashes with a sly smile. “Hey.”

Without asking for your preference, he ordered two drinks. You decided to let it slide for now – being surprised could be fun every now and then, and maybe accepting his drinks could be one of the keys to get something more.

“You’ve been turning heads all night.” He finally said after a while, the hot, aussie accent didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your body heat increased as an immediate response. 

As you tilted your head slightly, letting a small smile play on your lips, you smoothly replied with faux innocence. “Have I?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, thanking the bartender for the drink as he handed you one, oblivious of the rhetorical question. Your smile widened. “Can I know your name?”

“Y/N,” you politically extended your hand, eyes sharp on his face. His grip was hesitant, and the moment your fingers touched, an unexpected jolt of electricity shot through your body. You suppressed a slight shiver.

“Jake,” he introduced himself, caring little to nothing about showing how affected he got just by feeling your soft palm on his.

His breath hitched, getting caught on his throat as his eyes darkened. He couldn’t help but think about how your touch would feel elsewhere on his body.

The excitement flooded your chest instantly, you had to hold back yourself because you realized that if you wanted – and you so did – those perfect lips would be attached to yours in no time, and if you were lucky enough, they would be exploring other parts of your body as well.

“Nice meeting you, Jake.” You murmured, pronouncing his name with your most velvety voice, slowly pulling your hand away to grab your drink from the counter, sipping it.

Jake tracked your deliberate movements, wetting his slightly parted lips when he saw your red lipstick staining on the glass edge, utterly in disbelief he simply discovered someone who definitely came out from his wettest dreams, who would turn the smallest, innocent gesture into something sensual.

Even the simple act of blinking in his direction seemed meticulously calculated to make it hard to resist your advances, fueling the growing tightness inside his pants.

Not to mention how sexy his name rolled out of your beautifully tinted lips. 

Jake leaned his arms on the marble counter, turning his head to keep on watching you, as if your presence were an alluring, tempting show, happening right in front of his eyes just to damage his weak heart.

“I couldn’t stop looking at you.” He blurted out shamelessly, shattering the ‘cool’ facade he was trying to maintain under your intense gaze.

There was something about how sincere, seductive, and yet, desperate he sounded, as if his greatest longing in life was to have you right away. You were enjoying that guy so much so far. 

“I’ve noticed,” you chuckled with your eyes brimming with flirtation, shifting between his plush, kissable lips and his desire-filled orbs. “And are you planning to keep just looking?”

Jake blinked, momentarily taken aback with your quick and direct response. Although you had an obvious confident aura radiating through your pores, he definitely didn't expect you to be so straight to the point, thinking he would have to ease things a bit more.

And honestly? He found your vibe more exciting than he would like to admit. 

“I guess that depends on what you want,” he answered, voice dropping a tone, trying to match the energy you exuded.

Ignoring the chills running through your spine by his low murmur, you softly chuckled and leaned back against the bar, gaze still locked with his.

“Oh, Jake,” you teasingly cooed, grinning, with your voice dripping with amusement, “I always get what I want.”

It was visibly apparent how your words ignited something on his body, perking up in anticipation while his eyes deepened and his jaw clenched; if you looked close enough, you would see the slight bulge in his crotch area. 

Jake straightened his posture, finishing his drink in one go without breaking eye contact, hooded eyelids offering you the most magnetic sight you saw that night until that moment.

Then he leaned in closer, the tension between you two increasing with every heartbeat. “Meet me in the bathroom,” he whispered in your ear, a cocky smirk creeping onto his face.

As he walked towards the restroom area, his confident stride only added to the thrill. Men would be promising you the best night of your life just to leave you hanging and dealing with your situation alone. However, Jake seemed to exude an air of boldness blended perfectly with devotion, making a rush of anticipation bubbling in your core.

You let out a small laugh, not even caring about finishing your drink. The thrilling game had just started and you were so ready to play.

Jake’s lips tasted like heaven. And fancy liquor.

His hands were everywhere, but mainly on your ass and neck, his desperation evident by the way he pressed your back into the cold wall, sucking your lips as if his life depended on it.  

After following his traces, feigning indifference as best as you could to the open public, it took mere seconds before you felt his strong grasp on your hips guiding you into the bathroom – fortunately, they had private, separated spaces, making it easier for the two of you to steal as much privacy as the party allowed.

You could hear the muffled hum of the songs playing as a background, merging with the lewd sounds from the messy, hungry kiss you both shared and the soft groans rumbling from Jake’s throat as well.

Just minutes ago your plans were completely different; just some kisses and calling it a night, definitely not imagining things going further than that. However, the way Jake’s mouth skilfully moved against yours made you wonder how good it would feel in other places of your body, like in between your legs, and you just had to give it a chance.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, barely breaking the contact, lips already swollen and reddened due to your lipstick and your not so gentle bites. 

You hummed in response, unable to form proper words about how amazing of a job he was doing just by kissing you. 

Your fingers tangled in his silky brown hair, tugging without restraint because you quickly realized how much Jake liked it. He moaned, lips parting against yours with the intensity of the pull, your hazed gaze catching a quick glimpse of his eyes rolling back – an extremely devilish view.

Although stumbling a bit, Jake managed to easily place you at the edge of the sink’s counter by lifting you firmly gripping your thighs, the feeling alone making you wince as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist for support.

The room seemed to shrink as your breaths quickened, the boiling sensation bubbling in your stomach as you anticipated for more of his intense, heated, passionate touches. 

Jake, just as breathless, decided to assault the flesh of your neck and exposed collarbone, getting drunk on your scent and softness as he did so, loving how you tilted your head just enough to give him some more access to explore.

A soft moan escaped your lips and your fingers tightened on his hair when he nibbled your sensitive spot, close to your earlobe, sending jolts of electricity directly to your pussy.

You could feel a smirk creeping into his mouth, right before he questioned teasingly, slowly sucking the area. “Do you like that?”

You fought to keep your composure, a soft smile threatening to break through as the heat blossomed in your core. His breath tickled your skin, deliberately waiting for your answer while igniting every inch of you by keeping on playing on that spot. 

The first reaction you gave was another moan together with your nails digging on his shoulders and scratching his scalp. Then you admitted, still struggling to hold yourself back. “Fuck, yes. I do.” 

Jake cooed at you, gently pulling away from the curve of your neck to study your dazed expression; lips agape releasing heavy breaths, cheeks flushed with a delicate pink and eyes half-lidded, fluttering slowly, still dripping in the same confidence you once carried, as if even under his lead you were the one commanding.

“You look hot and messy, and I haven’t even started yet.” Jake teased, a playful smile gracing his lips as he pressed them against yours again.

“Do you always talk that much?” You murmured, not quite intending to judge his demeanor, but a bit annoyed and amused by how he appeared to need to hear you frequently while savoring you. 

“Only when I'm nervous.” Jake answered honestly with an awkward chuckle, helping you to remove his jacket, which landed straight on the ground and he couldn’t care less.  

“Oh, do I make you nervous Jakey?” You smirked, thirsting over his now exposed veiny arms. 

Watching Jake’s cheeks being painted with a faint blush while he swallowed hard under your sharp gaze, clearly getting flustered, brought back the control you thought was lost. 

“Maybe a little,” Jake tried to play it cool, but his voice came out smaller than he expected, and he tried to avoid facing you by leaning to kiss you again.

A glint of mischief sparkled in your eyes when you noticed he was losing his composure. You kindly held his head still, forcing him to keep his gaze on you. “Aw, come on, Jakey. Don’t shy away now,” you said, a smooth voice layered with playfulness and a sultry, almost mocking undertone. “You haven’t even started yet, isn’t that right?” 

Jake nearly moaned when he heard your words, not because of them itself but by how hot you sounded. His cock throbbed painfully inside his pants, his underwear probably stained with his leaking precum at that point. 

Jake got fooled at some moment by thinking he was the one in charge, even provoking you while exploring your desires initially, but the reality was that he had been following your lead like a lost puppy all along. 

There was something about how confident and dominant you seemed to be since the beginning, not faltering a single moment to his boldness, and somehow you carried that still, assuming the control gracefully, as if it was your job. And Jake was very grateful for you doing so.

His eyes softened and his breath hitched. 

“Tell me, what do you want from me?” The question slipped from his plush, beautiful lips, laced with desire and a touch of vulnerability without much cohesive thinking, clouded mind craving to satisfy you, because that meant his own fulfillment. “I wanna give you everything.”

Devoting to a devilish goddess like you was a tempting surrender he was eager to embrace.

You felt a pulse straight in your clit and your cheeks heating, the weight of his desperate words triggering your following behavior.

Jake saw the way your face brightened up, realizing he had opened the hell’s gate and he was eager to enter – if you were the personification of the devil, he was more than willing to drown into your lustful, tempting sea of sins. 

“What do I want from you?” You echoed, an amused grin curling the corner of your lips as your eyes traced Jake’s attractive features, pausing on his perfectly sculpted high-bridged nose, accompanied just below by his tasteful lips. You smiled, caressing it with your thumb. “I want them. Eat me out.” 

Jake’s breath got caught on his throat and his eyes grew in a slight surprise, not only due to your bold, straightforward request, but mainly because the idea of having your pussy in full display for him to play sounded too dreamy.

“Are you sure?” He asked in a low, contained voice, struggling to keep down his excitement, biting his lower lip, aiming to confirm he wasn’t going insane.

“I know what I want, Jake.” You cocked your head with a raised eyebrow. “And you?”

Jake’s eyes immediately dropped to your chest and then your bare thighs. The dress had ridden up due to the position so he was able to see a hint of your laced, black panties. He wet his lips, mouth watering while he lowered enough to bend comfortably and be eye level with your cunt.

You watched, fascinated by how in trance he seemed to be, as though your final word was the cue for him to dive into you completely. 

Your stomach fluttered in anticipation as you propped yourself up to help Jake slide your panties down your legs, gentle hands caressing your smooth skin as he did so. Then he grabbed your ass and pulled you forward, shooting you a quick glance and smile before burying his face between your legs, the smell of your pussy intoxicating his senses. 

He first gave it a small, slow kitty-lick, testing the waters, then frowned in pleasure, groaning with your delicious taste dissolving on his tongue.

A soft gasp slipped from your lips and you quickly pursed them to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, fighting the urge of allowing yourself to let go so easily. One of your hands searched for support on the edge of the counter and the other held on tight to Jake’s hair.

Jake gave a long, savoring lick, finishing with a delectable, lewd sucking noise in your clit, as if he was starting to make out with your pussy. Your mouth fell open and your eyes fluttered shut, your limbs feeling like jelly as a wave of weakness coursed through you.

His hot muscle started to work faster, steadier and precise in between your folds, your entrance and your sensitive bundle of nerves, giving each of them the right amount of attention.

“Holy shit, Jake,” you moaned shakily, unable to keep it low. “You’re so fucking good at this,” you threw your head back, unconsciously waving your body towards his face, practically griding on it.

Jake moaned with your praise, skilfully shaking his head whenever he flickered his tongue in your hole, just to rub your clit with his nose, before moving back to suck on it, entirely immersed on his duty to please you.

He was on cloud nine. 

Your taste flooding his senses, your body reacting to his stimulus, heating up and shivering under his precise touch, your pretty moans filling up the space straight into his ears, like angels singing – though he was sure you were a devil in disguise. 

Every noise coming from your throat was sending a rush of electricity directly into his dick, not to mention how your cunt became wetter and wetter with the lewd mixture of his own saliva and your arousal. Jake could die that moment and would be happy with it.

Reading the way your breathing grew heavy and feeling how you clenched around the tip of his tongue, Jake deduced you were near to the edge.

“I’m close–” You whispered, confirming his theory.

The knot on your stomach tightened when Jake began to focus mainly on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue on it, eager for your release – perhaps more than you. “I’m really close, Jak–”

Your arms nearly failed to keep yourself up as your orgasm hit, a long moan falling from your mouth interrupting your warning, your spine arching with the euphoria wave and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your juices coated Jake’s tongue, who took all of it proudly; you hissed feeling his mouth still working on your sensitive cunt, and you pulled him away by his hair.

Without a word Jake brought his lips to yours, making you taste yourself still hazy minded after your strucking climax. You groaned, slowly starting to move your hips to get down from the counter, Jake unconsciously helping you through it by supporting your weight until your heels landed on the floor. 

You lightly pushed Jake’s chest to move him away, meeting his dazed expression, one that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his veins. You grabbed the hem of his black shirt, quietly asking for him to remove it. And he did without hesitation.

"Fuck me," you demanded, taking a glimpse of his beautiful toned abs, a bit out of breath and even needier now. "Fuck me and watch you doing it through this mirror."

Jake flashed a quick grin, still recovering from the smothering and delightful feeling of being in between your legs, before fumbling with his belt, hands frantic undoing the button of his pants to slide them down.

You took your sweet time to thirst over the outline of his covered, extremely hard length, interrupting his actions by gripping his wrist, savoring the moment as you licked your lips, mouth watering.

“It’s a shame we cannot take much longer,” you started, fauxing innocence as you stepped closer just enough to touch him over his white boxers. A small, provocative chuckle coming from your throat before you murmured. “Really wanted to feel you in my mouth.” And then you kissed the corner of his parted lips.

Jake whimpered when you softly squeezed his neglected dick, leaning closer to you instinctively, holding onto the edge of the counter behind you while resting his sweaty forehead on your shoulder. His breath was heavy against your skin, where he pressed his lips a few times until reaching your earlobe, nibbling. 

Your sneaky hands entered the hem of his clothing piece to jerk him off; your teasing, deliberate moves were driving him insane. The way your warm palm rubbed his sensitive tip made his groans increase just as much as his pulse, and he moaned a bit louder when you finally freed his aching dick out of his boxers by pushing them down, allowing your hand to pump his shaft easier. 

With closed eyes, you enjoyed the waves of pleasure going down, directly to your cunt, making you wet again by hearing Jake’s sultry noises and hot breath brushing against your ear.

Your lips grazed along his jawline at the same time you threatened your fingers through his slightly dampened hair, disheveling it even more before pulling it away from the curve of your neck, so you could capture his mouth in a slow, passionate kiss.

"Condom?" You asked under breath after parting away from his mouth, slowing your hand on his dick. You noticed his body tensing right after your question, eyes growing wide in panic, which piqued your curiosity.

There’s no way he…

"Shit, I didn't bring–"

You let out a soft scoff, part laughter, part disbelief. Without missing a beat, your hands resumed their movement, this time teasing him by randomly stopping, repeating the motion a few times. His moans grew louder, hips bucking desperately against your hand as if seeking more, his mouth agape and eyes glistening with despair.

"What a naughty boy," you cooed, slowly shaking your head in a false disappointment. "Were you planning on going raw with me, Jakey?" You questioned, voice low, layered with playfulness. 

Jake winced, desperation growing inside his chest, fearing you to leave him now, when he needed you the most.

"N-No..." He shook his head, “I wasn’t– I forgot, I’m sorr–” 

"Unluckily we just met.” You interrupted. “I don't know you well enough to let you do that. Right?" 

Jake nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was truly following your words. You were loving to see him falling apart so easily, almost begging for you not to leave him through his messy moans. 

His breath hitched and he almost grabbed your hand in place when you let go from his hard, red and needy cock. "P–please…" He finally pleaded, holding your waist as his eyes searched for yours in complete despair.

You quirked an eyebrow, smirking at his endearing demeanor. "Aw, you really wanna fuck me, don't you?" You caressed his cheek with your clean hand, smiling.

“I really do,” Jake whispered, moving his head just enough to kiss your palm. “Please, let me–”

“Not without protection, Jakey,” you said firmly, although with a hint of teasing, because you had a way out of that situation without harming your health.

And the said solution was inside your purse, which got tossed on the ground at some point of your initial make out session with Jake. 

Jake's puppy sad eyes followed your every motion when you moved his hands off of your waist, thinking he had messed up completely. But then he saw you grabbing your bag and taking a condom off of it, showing to him with a playful grin.

"And lucky to us, I'm always prepared, Jakey.”

You slowly approached him again, his gaze catching the alluring sight of you gently opening the packaging using your teeth, while your eyes confidently remained locked onto his, loving to see his bewildered expression.

Without a word, you slid the condom on his length, stroking it a few times before turning your back to him, bending over the counter and lifting your dress, revealing the beautiful view of your bare ass.

Jake’s firm hands instinctively gripped your hips and he positioned himself behind you while biting his lip in anticipation, the thrilling excitement boiling stronger in his cock.

He searched for your eyes in the mirror in front of you two, and of course you were already looking at him through your hungry orbs, savoring the image of Jake’s craving your body.

"Now fuck me as desperate as you seem to be."

Your words hung in the air for seconds before Jake’s mind snapped away from your tempting view in the mirror; your boobs nearly jumping out of your neckline, lips swollen but carrying the same confidence, and your eyes. Your fucking eyes. Your devilish eyes. 

“Your desire is my pleasure, Y/N.” It was all Jake managed to say with his low, husky voice, before pushing deep into you.

Your mouth fell open with the breathtaking sensation of being filled up, and Jake began to slowly pump into you, giving you a little time to adjust. Or you thought so.

You still had no idea that he was already stepping near the edge of his own release, that being the reason for his deliberate hip rolls – there was no way in hell he was going to let the opportunity of enjoying your delicious squeezes around his dick slip away that easily.

“F–fuck,” his voice cracked as he whispered. “You f–feel amazing...”

You looked at Jake in the mirror after hearing how weakly his words came out, as if he were already lost in a haze of his own pleasure. And he truly was. A soft moan escaped your lips at the sight of his head tilted back, eyes closed, and mouth slightly parted, a faint smile gracing his lips.

When a specific deep thrust hit your g-spot, you almost cried out and Jake quickly paid attention to it. Then he bent you even more on the marble counter with one hand forcing your back, to ease his access to your sensitive area and help with his movements, speeding his hips the right amount to make you roll your eyes.

“T–that’s it...” You moaned. “Fucking me so good.” You praised and Jake groaned, his hands immediately sliding to cup one of your covered breasts, massaging it while keeping his pace, eyes locked at the insanely delightful view in the mirror.

A sequence of moans slipped out of your throat as Jake started fucking you hard and fast, desperately even. How your walls clenched tight around his cock was driving him insane, and he seeked for more of that addicting feeling.

The sound of the distant music did nothing to cover the slams sounds echoing the bathroom at that point, and honestly, neither of you cared anymore, far gone in your own pleasure.

At some point your own body started to encounter his pushes into you, but it wasn’t enough. So you straightened your posture a bit, tugging Jake’s hair while looking at his eyes in the mirror – his fucked up expression sending shivers down your spine. 

“Faster, Jake.” You urged, a bossy tone dripping out of your mouth like a sweet sugar that Jake grew obsessed with. And he instantly obeyed.

Your free hand cupped Jake’s on your boob and your eyes fluttered close while you tilted your head back, lost in the amazing feeling of Jake pounding into your g-spot, a mess of moans and whimpers coming from both of your mouths. 

Since he had his eyes open, Jake watched your body quivering with his thrusts, the fucking Prada logo on your dress shining with the dim light of the bathroom, your makeup slightly smeared due to the mess. It was completely out of this world how good you looked, and the way you were squeezing his dick together with the view, sent him even closer to the edge. 

“I’m gonna cum–” He said in one go, as an eager statement, not a warning, desperate to feel his release. 

Your breath started to quicken with his erratic pace, and you fluttered your eyes open again, catching the sight of Jake’s concentrated frown and mouth agape, letting out the prettiest moans you ever heard.

You said nothing, you just tightly gripped the hand on your chest and leaded it to your clit, inciting him to rub it for you. Jake got your message, and with all the overwhelming stimulus, your second orgasm hit, mouth falling open gasping for air as you supported yourself on the marble counter, your head falling forward while you kept on feeling Jake’s deep thrusts.

You clenched involuntarily around his dick, and that was enough for him to achieve his climax as well, resting his head on your shoulder, holding you close still.

Jake moved back with a hiss, completely dizzy and fulfilled. He removed the condom and tossed it onto the trashcan before dressing himself back again, helping you to recompose since your legs were shaky.

“Thank you,” you said in a hoarse voice when he offered you your purse and your panties, to which you decided not to wear again because, well, it was on the floor.

So you cheekily pushed into Jake’s pocket without saying a word, and he didn’t even noticed, too focused on looking out for you by supporting you to keep steady. 

You turned to the mirror, fixing your messy hair and makeup as best as you could. 

“How do we get out of this bathroom now?” Jake asked after the silence, watching you re-apply your red lipstick. 

You just smiled, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek to purposely leave a mark there. “Like this.” And you simply opened the door, not even caring about the instant stares you received as you did so, Jake following your lead right behind, a small shy smile adorning his lips. 

With a last goodbye look, you parted ways, your confidence evident in your stride, and Jake fumbling to smooth down his disheveled locks, now with the acknowledgment that the devil definitely wears Prada.

[hoshifighting]

Arranged Marriage — Hoshi x Reader

— Synopsis: In contrast to the tired old plots of arranged marriages where the couple can't stand each other, you and Soonyoung are childhood friends. It's not just like marrying a friend—no, no, actually, it is marrying a friend, no-frills and simple. — WC: 10k — WARNINGS: smut, fluff, fingering, oral (m. receiving), penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, choking, one single slap on the ass, hair pulling, aftercare, whipped!hoshi, hoshi teases reader until she almost cries for dick, mentions of alcohol, mentions of body fluids (cum, sweat), DIRTY TALK—prob the nastiest dirty talk i've written.

You knew this day would come. 

Growing up in a world where luxury, money, stock exchange, and business were the pillars of existence, arranged marriages were just another part of the cycle. Two patrimonies merging into one for the benefit of both families—it was a tradition as old as time. 

Some couples embraced the spotlight, showcasing their unity to the world. Others barely tolerated each other, living in separate homes to maintain a fake image. There were also those whose mutual disdain led to chaos both in their personal lives and in the family businesses.

When you saw Soonyoung in your home, dressed in a suit that clearly wasn’t his style, you felt a hurricane of emotions. His usual vibrant, carefree energy seemed stifled under the weight of the tailored fabric. You greeted him and his family alongside your parents, both of you a shy mess, but something in his eyes told you things might not be as bad as you feared.

“Hey,” Soonyoung murmured as you both found a moment away from the adults’ formal discussions. “This suit is killing me.”

You laughed softly, feeling a sense of relief. “You look... different.”

“Yeah, definitely not my usual style, you know me” he grinned, loosening his tie. “But I guess we’re both out of our comfort zones today.”

You nodded, memories flooding back of the two of you playing outside when kids, during business congresses, your parents inside discussing mergers and acquisitions while you and Soonyoung chased each other around the gardens. “Do you remember those days?”

“Of course,” he said, eyes lighting up with nostalgia. “We had our own little world, didn’t we?”

“We did,” you replied. “And now, here we are.”

“So, how do you feel about this?” he asked, shy, looking at your expensive dress, clearly set for tonight. “About us... getting married?”

“I’ve been preparing for it my whole life, I guess,” you said honestly. “But with you... it feels different. Less intimidating."

“I feel the same,” Soonyoung admitted. “I mean, if it had to be anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

You smiled. “Maybe we can make this work. Find a balance between our lifes.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We can create something new, something that’s ours.”

You looked at him, seeing not just the boy you grew up with, but a partner. Someone who understood the complexities of your world and was willing to navigate them with you.

You looked around your house, taking in the scene. Soonyoung’s family mingled with yours, coworkers from your parents’ firms exchanged polite conversation, and your and Soonyoung’s nephews were playing circles around the couch. 

The weight of the day pressed on your shoulders, a burden that didn’t match the elegance of the dress you were wearing for the marriage proposal.

Soonyoung’s eyes met yours, noticing your tense posture. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” he asked softly.

You looked at him, sulking, and he recognized the same expression you had when you were eight. 

He leaned in, whispering, “Don’t tell anyone, but I brought a bottle of tequila. It’s in my trunk. Would you like some to relax?”

You stared at him in silence before nodding with an exasperated look, feeling like it was exactly what you needed.

“Did you bring a shot cup?” you asked, following him outside.

He stopped, bottle in hand, and you both laughed. Taking the bottle from him, you leaned against his car, opened the cap, and poured a generous shot—maybe a little more—straight into your mouth. Soonyoung watched, his mouth wide open in surprise. You handed the bottle back to him.

“Why are you nervous?” he asked, taking a swig himself, looking comically exaggerated as he did. “I’m the one who has to kneel and propose today. My heart feels like it’s about to explode.”

You both laughed like teenagers getting away with something forbidden, hiding behind his car.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you broke it. “Do you have the ring here?”

He looked at you and nodded.

“Can I see it?” you asked, your curiosity piqued as if he had a rare Pokémon card.

“Is that right?” he teased.

You made doe eyes and asked, “Pretty please?”

He smiled, pulling a small black box from his pocket and opening it for you. 

The diamond ring sparkled in your eyes, its brilliance captivating. “It’s beautiful,” you murmured.

Soonyoung nodded, grinning. “My sister helped me choose it. I originally wanted a diamond shaped like a cat, but she said that wasn’t appropriate.”

You laughed, the image of a cat-shaped diamond making you smile. “It’s beautiful, but a kitten-shaped ring sounds adorable. I would’ve loved that too.”

His grin widened, a small, proud smile lighting up his face as you both admired the ring.

Your moment was interrupted by Soonyoung’s mom's voice, echoing from the house. “Oh my god, are you already proposing?”

Soonyoung choked on his own saliva, his eyes wide with panic. The best thing to do now? Say no and face his mother’s scolding for showing the ring prematurely, or actually propose right then and there?

Before he could think it through, he found himself on one knee on the sidewalk, his heart pounding. You quickly hid the tequila bottle behind your back.

“Soonyoung, what are you doing?” you whispered, eyes wide.

“I... I’m improvising,” he replied, clearing his throat. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

The spontaneity of it all, made you laugh and cry at the same time, you needed to pretend you were actually emotional. “Yes, Soonyoung. Yes, I will.”

You barely noticed the sudden crowd that had gathered around you, they'd appeared out of nowhere, all eyes on the two of you. Soonyoung’s hand trembled slightly as he slid the ring onto your finger, the cool metal contrasting with the warmth of his touch.

You smiled nervously at him, teeth gritted. “Hug me,” you whispered urgently, your eyes darting to the tequila bottle that was precariously wedged behind your back. “Please, put the tequila bottle inside your car. It's practically shoved inside my ass.”

Soonyoung blinked, processing your words before a grin spread across his face. He pulled you into a tight hug, the kind that felt both reassuring and grounding. As he embraced you, he expertly reached behind you, his fingers brushing against the bottle. 

You could feel his body shaking slightly with suppressed laughter.

“Hang on,” he whispered back.

He managed to grab the bottle and discreetly slid it out from behind you. Still holding you close, he took a step back towards the car, opening the door with one hand and slipping the bottle inside. The whole maneuver was so smooth that you doubted anyone noticed the clandestine operation.

That moment eased the tension of the night, but the tequila hadn’t taken effect yet, and you knew you had to keep an eye on Soonyoung. His alcohol tolerance was notoriously low, and you didn’t want him to embarrass himself—or worse, get into trouble.

As the night wound down and Soonyoung’s dad started to lead him to the car, Soonyoung sulked, trying to resist. “I want to talk a bit more to my bride,” he protested, his voice slightly slurred. His words elicited good-natured laughter from both families, who were enjoying the unexpected turn of events.

You walked over to him, giving him a warm hug and patting his head affectionately. “It’s time to go home, Soonyoung,” you said gently.

He looked at you with wide, earnest eyes, the warmth in his gaze reminding you of why you felt less nervous than you should. Soonyoung had always been warm-hearted, and maybe that’s why you felt a sense of calm amidst the chaos.

As you pulled back from the hug, Soonyoung’s hand lingered in yours for a moment longer. “Promise you’ll call me tomorrow?” he asked, his tone earnest despite his tipsiness.

“Promise,” you replied, smiling as you squeezed his hand.

With one last affectionate look, Soonyoung allowed his dad to guide him into the car. You watched as the vehicle pulled away. Your parents approached, their expressions a blend of amusement and expectation.

“Well, that was quite a night,” your mom said, her eyes twinkling with delight.

“Yes, it was,” you agreed, glancing at your dad, who nodded in approval.

“You two make a good pair,” your dad said, his tone warm. “I’m glad to see you both getting along so well.”

Your parents were now expectant, believing you and Soonyoung were truly becoming a couple. And in a way, you were—just not in the conventional sense they imagined.

The next day, even though it was a promise to a drunk boy, you called Soonyoung in the morning. Like any typical business wedding, the preparations started swiftly, aiming to have the wedding happen as soon as possible. Today, you were going to choose the food and drinks for the event.

When Soonyoung arrived, he was all tidied up, but his face was clearly tired. You laughed a bit, “You look…”

He completed for you, “Fucked?”

You chuckled, “I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Long night,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes. “But I’m here.”

“Good, because we have a lot to decide,” you replied, glancing at the event agent who was discussing the dessert options.

As you both looked at the event agent, who insisted on adding superfluous things to the sweets—like a layer of gold—you exchanged amused glances. The agent was enthusiastically explaining the virtues of gold-leaf-covered desserts.

“Gold? For us to... poop?” Soonyoung murmured incredulously.

You stifled a laugh and leaned closer to him. “Can’t it be something more tasty?”

The agent looked slightly taken aback. “Gold leaf is quite a statement piece.”

Soonyoung nodded, trying to be polite. “But we were thinking of something simpler.”

“How about churros?” you suggest.

The agent blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Churros? For a wedding?”

“Why not?” you said with a grin. “They’re delicious, and everyone loves them.”

“But they don’t exactly scream luxury,” the agent protested.

“They scream fun,” Soonyoung countered. “And isn’t that what weddings are supposed to be?”

The agent sighed, making a note. “Alright, churros it is. Anything else?”

“Maybe some street-style tacos?” he added, enjoying the agent’s bewildered expression.

“Tacos?” the agent repeated, as if the word was foreign.

“Yeah, why not?” Soonyoung agreed. “Let’s keep it simple and tasty.”

The agent finally nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Very well. I’ll make the arrangements.”

Honestly, days flew by with Soonyoung by your side. Planning every little detail of the wedding together brought both fun and challenges, especially when your tastes didn’t always align. It was a bit complicated at first, like when you two were choosing the destination for your honeymoon. 

Soonyoung wanted an adventure-packed trip to the Amazon rainforest, while you preferred a relaxing beach resort in the Maldives. The negotiations were intense, but you eventually settled on a compromise.

Choosing Soonyoung’s suit also proved to be a task. He insisted on wearing a tie with a tiger print, a nod to his childhood love for tigers. You were surprised that his fascination with the big cats had persisted, but you drew the line at a tiger tie. “Absolutely not,” you told him firmly, trying to imagine the looks you’d get. “A tiger tie is a no from me, and I think a lot of people would agree.”

“Fine,” he conceded with a sigh, but you could tell he was already thinking about how to sneak a little tiger motif into his outfit.

When it came to choosing your dress, you were accompanied by your mom, Soonyoung’s mom, and his sister. 

Soonyoung, the only man in the group, tagged along as well. The other brides at the boutique initially assumed he was either your brother or your stylist. 

Their jaws nearly dropped when they overheard he was actually the groom.

One of the brides, adjusting her veil in front of a mirror, turned to you, wide-eyed. “Wait, he’s your husband-to-be?”

“Yes, he is,” you confirmed with a smile, watching Soonyoung fuss over a lace detail on one of the dresses.

Another bride laughed softly. “Lucky you! He’s so involved.”

“He’s been amazing,” you said. “Except for his obsession with tiger prints.”

Soonyoung, overhearing, grinned and walked over. “What can I say? Tigers are cool.”

“Soonyoung, you’re a unique groom,” his sister teased, shaking her head.

As you tried on dresses, Soonyoung offered his opinions with surprising thoughtfulness, balancing out his more quirky suggestions. He was genuinely invested in making sure you felt beautiful and confident in your choice.

You’d tried on everything: the biggest gowns, the tightest silhouettes, dresses with endless layers of skirts, and others that hugged your hips so closely it felt like they were molded to your skin. 

There were corsets that took your breath away—literally—and fabrics that shimmered under the boutique lights. 

But this time, when you left the dressing room, you were wearing a veil.

Soonyoung’s eyes didn’t lie for a second. He liked this one very much. The women around you—your mom, Soonyoung’s mom, and his sister—fussed over the dress, adjusting it here and there, offering compliments. But Soonyoung was speechless.

If Soonyoung were to be completely honest, up until this moment, he had always seen you as his friend, the girl he was going to marry because of an arrangement. You were the same girl who used to run around the events, eluding the security guards with your mischievous giggles. 

But now, you were different. You were a woman. His woman. And you looked stunning.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you. The transformation was breathtaking. You stood there, looking radiant in your wedding dress, and for the first time, the reality of the situation hit him. You weren’t just a friend anymore; you were about to become his partner, his wife.

He was so lost in the moment that he didn’t realize he was gawking until you and the women turned to him, waiting for his response. He blinked, snapping back to reality, and managed to find his voice.

“You look...” he started, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words. “You look absolutely stunning.”

Your cheeks flushed at his earnest compliment. “You really think so?”

Soonyoung nodded, still unable to tear his eyes away. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”

His sister grinned, nudging him playfully. “Told you she’d find the perfect dress.”

Your mom wiped away a tear, “You’re going to make a beautiful bride.”

Soonyoung’s mom stepped forward, adjusting a tiny detail on the veil. “This is the one. It’s perfect.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, feeling a sense of certainty wash over you. “Yes, this is the one,” you said, smiling at the reflection and then at the people around you who made this moment even more special.

[...]

The days leading up to the wedding were a whirlwind of activity. Every day brought something new to choose, and your creativity was running dry. You were worn out, and Soonyoung knew it. Today had been particularly exhausting.

As the realtor showed you yet another option for apartments in the Metropole, you responded with short answers, your enthusiasm long gone after visiting sixteen places that day alone.

“So, what do you think?” the realtor asked.

Soonyoung noticed your hesitation. “Can I talk with my wife for a sec?” he asked.

The realtor nodded and walked off, giving you space.

“Y/N-nie... are you okay?” Soonyoung asked softly, looking at you through his lashes.

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “I’m so tired,” you confessed.

He took a step closer, his voice softening. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You breathed out heavily. “My family is putting a lot of pressure on me, and I’m working relentlessly at the company. I can’t wait for us to get married…”

Soonyoung’s heart sank a little. “You want to get married just to get free from it?”

“No, it’s not just that. It’s everything. The wedding preparations, the constant decisions, the endless work... I feel like I’m drowning.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand. “We don’t have to rush this, you know. We can take our time.”

“But everyone’s expecting so much from us,” you replied, feeling the weight of expectations.

“Let them expect,” he said firmly. “And I want this to be as much about you as it is about us.”

“I just... I don’t want to disappoint anyone,” you admitted.

“You won’t,” Soonyoung assured you. “You’ve already done so much. It’s okay to take a step back and breathe.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a bit lighter. “Alright. Let’s look at this apartment one more time.”

Soonyoung nodded, giving you an encouraging smile. “And if it’s not the one, we’ll keep looking until we find the perfect place for us.”

You laughed softly, the tension easing. “You always know how to make things better.”

“Just doing my job as your soon-to-be husband,” he said playfully.

Soonyoung was doing an incredible job. 

From what you’d heard from friends who had gone through the same situation, they didn’t have partners like Soonyoung. You felt proud of him. 

He was your rock, making sure you took a breath when you were overwhelmed by the slightest things. He even insisted you didn't move a finger during brunch, making you so relaxed that you found the apartment you’d been searching for on the very same day.

The drive home was quiet, the car enveloped in a peaceful silence that allowed you a moment to rest. You laid your head back as he drove, appreciating the tranquility. Once you arrived, you stayed seated for a bit, soaking in the comfort of the quiet.

Soonyoung looked at you, waiting patiently. When you finally looked up, he gave you a gentle smile. “Ready to go in?”

You nodded, feeling a bit more refreshed. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He stepped out of the car and came around to your side, opening the door for you. “Take your time,” he said softly.

You appreciated his patience as you slowly got out of the car. “Thank you, Soonyoung.”

He smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walked towards the house. “I’m just doing what any good partner would do.”

You leaned into him, feeling grateful for his support. “I don’t think everyone is as lucky as I am.”

He chuckled softly. “Well, I’m pretty lucky too, you know.”

As you entered the house, you felt a sense of relief. The apartment search was over, and you had found the perfect place. More importantly, you had Soonyoung by your side, making every step of this journey easier.

“So, what’s next on our list?” he asked, guiding you to the living room.

You sank into the couch, feeling the exhaustion of the day catch up to you. “I think a nap is next on my list.”

He laughed, sitting beside you. “That sounds like a perfect plan.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of the day lift off your shoulders. “Wake me up in an hour?”

[...]

The days flew by in a blur with the whirlwind of wedding preparations. It felt like only moments ago you were choosing flowers, tasting cakes, and finalizing guest lists. 

Now, as you stood at the end of the aisle, holding a bouquet in front of Soonyoung, the reality of the moment hit you with full force.

The weight of the dress and the pressure of looking perfect made your hands sweat like never before. You felt like a porcelain doll, perfectly polished and poised.

Soonyoung stood there, his eyes fixed on you with pride. He couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. Here you were, a perfect woman by his side, and even better, an old friend he'd known for years. 

The familiarity of your presence brought him comfort. Despite the fact that you hadn’t really dated, the idea of having someone as pretty and cool as you with him every day made him feel at ease about the whole situation.

As you walked down the aisle, your eyes met his, and a small, reassuring smile played on his lips. He looked stunning in his suit, and the way he stood tall, waiting for you, made your heart flutter. 

You could see a hint of nervousness in his eyes, mirroring your own, but there was also a calmness there, a silent promise that everything would be alright.

When you finally reached him, he extended his hand towards you. He leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “You look amazing.”

You blushed, your nerves momentarily forgotten. “Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”

The vows were sincere, filled with heartfelt words that spoke more to your shared friendship than any romantic notion. Both of you couldn’t help but giggle as you remembered all the crazy things you’d done together as kids. 

Your minds flashed to the time you stole sweets from an event or when you both jumped into a water fountain during an important dinner with company directors.

As the officiant declared you husband and wife, all of these memories became a sweet reverie. You leaned in and whispered with a playful glint in your eye, “Are you going to kiss my lips or my cheek?”

Soonyoung blushed, clearly caught off guard by the question. A kiss on the cheek was typical in such moments since most arranged couples didn’t share a romantic bond. He stammered for a moment, his face flushing a deep shade of pink.

“Well… uh… I suppose the cheek would be safe,” he mumbled, eyes darting nervously.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, leaning closer. “But where’s the fun in that, Soonyoung?”

He looked at you, his eyes widening slightly. The playful challenge in your gaze gave him the courage he needed. With a deep breath, he moved in, his hand gently cupping your face.

“I think I’ll go for the lips,” he whispered back, his voice steadying.

The crowd held its breath as Soonyoung leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was a simple kiss, not passionate, but filled with the warmth of years of friendship and the promise of a shared future. The applause that followed was thunderous, but all you could focus on was the feeling of his lips against yours.

As you pulled away, you both wore matching grins. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you teased,

He laughed, shaking his head. “Not bad at all. Actually, it was kind of nice.”

You linked arms, turning to face the crowd together. Your parents looked relieved and proud, while your friends were cheering loudly, clearly entertained by the spectacle. Soonyoung’s eyes met yours again, and there was a newfound spark there, full of possibilities.

As you both shared champagne with your parents, Soonyoung playfully asked, "No tequila tonight?" You were about to respond when his mom's voice cut in, "Tequila?"

Soonyoung’s eyes widened, and his mouth twisted into a frown as he tried to suppress his laughter. You quickly improvised, "Huh, h-he meant... tacos! We had tacos with tequila last time, remember?" You forced a smile, hoping it sounded convincing enough. His mom seemed satisfied with the answer, nodding along.

After mingling with guests—aka talking with people from work about the next meeting—you finally found a moment to escape the spotlight. You and Soonyoung crouched behind the kitchen, hiding from the crowd. The chefs chuckled at the sight of the newlyweds sneaking bites of food, but they made sure to hand you the best eats, knowing how overwhelming the day could be.

Soonyoung grinned, playfully nudging you. "We're so used to doing this at parties that we're practically pros now."

You nodded in agreement, a mischievous smile on your face. "Even though it's our own wedding party," you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

He chuckled, looking at the gold ring on your finger with a sense of wonder. "Our wedding... I still can't believe it. Oh my god, we're grown adults now."

You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out to pat his head mockingly. "We've been grown adults for... kind of a long time already," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, then leaned in closer, his voice softening. "Yeah, but it feels different now. Like, we're really starting something new."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. It was true. The reality of your situation was sinking in, but in a way, it felt comforting. You had each other, and that made everything seem a little less daunting. As you sat there, hidden away from the chaos of the celebration, it struck you how much you appreciated this moment—just the two of you, stealing away for a breather.

“Shall we follow tradition?” Soonyoung asks, a playful glint in his eyes. You frown, confused, as he reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of tequila.

“Should tequila be kept in the fridge?” you ask, laughing at the sight.

“I hope so,” he replies, pouring the liquid into a cup. “This one is expensive.”

You raise an eyebrow, taking the cup from him. “The cheapest has the same effect,” you say, waiting for him to pour his own.

He chuckles, raising his glass. “But today’s a special day. We deserve the good stuff.”

You laugh it off, crossing your arms before taking the shot together. The familiar burn makes you both scrunch up your faces.

The wedding party was truly one of a kind. You and Soonyoung were a bit too excited, turning the waltz space into a wild dance floor. 

At first, your parents were too embarrassed to join, especially at the sight of Soonyoung twerking on you. But soon, even the directors and business partners were on the dance floor, dancing and drinking extravagantly.

[...]

The next morning, you and Soonyoung were woken up by the buzzing of your phones. 

Your makeup was smudged and stamped on the pillow, and you were still in your wedding dress. You scratched your scalp, feeling the bobby pins still tangled in your hair. 

Soonyoung was no better; his shirt was unbuttoned to his belly button, his tie was loosened around his neck, and his hair looked like a bird's nest. He scratched his forehead groggily. Despite sharing the same bed, you both seemed unbothered by it.

You grabbed your phone and saw the company group chat flooded with messages:

“Wow, last night was incredible! Congrats to the newlyweds!”

“I can't believe we all danced that much! My feet are killing me. :')”

“Best wedding party ever! So happy for you guys!”

“My head is pounding, but it was totally worth it. ^^ Cheers to you both!”

“I’m still recovering from all that dancing. What a party!”

“Never thought I’d see the CEO breakdancing. ㅋㅋㅋㅋ”

You couldn't help but smile at the messages, as Soonyoung peeked over your shoulder, a sleepy grin spreading across his face.

“My head hurts,” Soonyoung complains, rubbing his temples.

You adjust the corset of your dress, feeling the tightness around your ribs. "My ribs are squeezed," you grumble, wincing as you try to get comfortable. "I can't believe I slept in this."

He yawns, glancing down at your leg. "You even kept the garter on," he points out, noticing the delicate band still around your thigh.

You crack your neck, feeling the weight of the long night. "Your sister gave it to me, so I put it on," you explain, lifting the voluminous skirt to reveal the bridal garter.

His eyes widen comically. "My sister?! Is there something I don't know?"

You frown at him, a bit confused. "You don’t know about the tradition?"

Soonyoung looks a bit lost, scratching his head. "I mean, it’s my first time getting married."

You sigh, laying back down. "Traditionally, the groom is supposed to take it off when... taking the virginity," you explain, watching his face turn a shade of pink.

His eyes dart around nervously, processing the information. "So... my sister thought I was... a virgin?"

You shrug, teasing, "Probably. Are you?"

He laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Definitely not. And you?"

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. "Nope. Sorry to disappoint."

He chuckles, finally relaxing. "Good to know. Not that it matters, but... it's funny to think about how everyone just assumes stuff."

“Are you going to take it off?” you tease, stretching your leg up and wiggling your foot playfully. Your eyes glint mischievously as you watch Soonyoung’s reaction.

He scoffs, but a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “What, you mean right now?” His eyes flicker to your thigh, then quickly back up to your face, trying to gauge if you’re serious or just messing with him.

You arch an eyebrow, maintaining your playful expression. “Why not? It’s tradition, right? Don’t you want to fulfill your husbandly duties?” You stretch your leg out further, making the garter more visible.

Soonyoung chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, but there’s a sparkle of joy in his eyes. He reaches out hesitantly, his fingers brushing lightly against your thigh. The touch sends a shiver to your skin, and you can’t help but giggle.

“What’s the matter?” you prod, your voice dripping with mock innocence. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

He rolls his eyes, trying to suppress a laugh. “Not at all,” 

You bute your lip as his fingers graze the lacy fabric of the garter. His touch is feather-light, almost ticklish, and you squirm a bit under his hand.

Soonyoung smirks, clearly enjoying your reaction. “You’re squirming,” he notes, his voice low and teasing. “Does that mean you’re nervous?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Me? Nervous? Please,” you retort, trying to sound confident despite the rapid beating of your heart. “I’m just surprised you’re taking so long. I thought you’d be an expert at this.”

He chuckles, sliding his hand a bit higher up your thigh, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, deliberate strokes. “Oh, I am,” he replies smoothly. “Just savoring the moment.”

“Well, don’t take too long,” you murmur, your voice softening slightly. “We wouldn’t want to miss out on any other wedding traditions.”

Soonyoung grins, his fingers hooking under the garter. “Right, can’t forget those,” he says, his voice tinged with a hint of naughtiness. 

He gently tugs on the garter, slowly sliding it down your leg, his eyes never leaving yours. 

As he finally slips the garter off, he holds it up triumphantly, a goofy grin on his face. “There, tradition fulfilled,” he declares, waving the garter like a trophy.

You laugh, shaking your head at his antics. “Congratulations,” you say, clapping mockingly. “You’ve successfully removed a piece of elastic lace. Truly, a remarkable achievement.”

He bows dramatically, playing along. “Thank you, thank you,” he says, flashing you a cheeky smile. “It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.”

You can’t help but laugh, the light-hearted banter making the moment feel even more special. Soonyoung’s hand lingers on your leg for a moment longer before he finally lets go.

As Soonyoung gets up, stretching his arms with a yawn, he announces, "I'm going to take a bath." He heads towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You sit up, still feeling the effects of last night's festivities, and shout after him, “Ya! Ladies first!”

From behind the closed door, you hear Soonyoung's laughter echo in the bathroom. “Sorry, didn’t hear you over the sound of me already starting the water!” he calls back, his voice filled with playful defiance.

You shake your head, smiling to yourself. It’s these little moments that make everything feel so natural and easy with him. After a few minutes, you hear the sound of running water stop, and Soonyoung emerges from the bathroom, his hair damp and a towel wrapped around his waist.

“All yours,” he says, grinning. “I left some hot water for you, too.”

You roll your eyes playfully, grabbing your toiletries and heading into the bathroom. The warm water is a welcome relief, washing away the remnants of makeup and the night's events. After a quick shower, you step out feeling slightly more human, though the hangover still lingers.

As you both finish getting ready, the thought of breakfast crosses your mind. However, just the idea of food makes your stomach churn. The hotel's breakfast spread is typically lavish, but today, the thought of greasy bacon and pastries is anything but appetizing.

Soonyoung, dressed in a casual outfit, catches your expression as you look at the food options. “Yeah, not feeling it either,” he says, rubbing his temple. “Let's skip it.”

You nod in agreement, both of you opting for just a coffee to stave off the worst of the hangover. With minimal conversation, you gather your belongings, checking out of the hotel and heading straight to the airport.

But one thing you definitely didn’t expect was Soonyoung falling asleep on your shoulder within the first thirty minutes of the flight. His head rested heavily against you, and his hand, seemingly by accident, was placed on your thigh. 

As he softly snored, you couldn’t help but chuckle at how comfortable he looked. Anyone passing by would probably think you two were an old married couple, so naturally attuned to each other.

His head's weight pressed down on your shoulder, a constant reminder of his presence. Every now and then, you felt him subconsciously moisturizing his lips, a small, almost imperceptible movement that somehow made the moment even more cute.

You glanced at the small TV screen in front of you, trying to focus on the movie playing. It was a romance novel adaptation, the kind with sweeping gestures and grand declarations of love.

Normally, you might have rolled your eyes at the cliché, but with Soonyoung sleeping peacefully beside you, it felt oddly fitting.

As the plane cruised through the sky, you found yourself getting lost in the storyline, occasionally glancing at Soonyoung. His breathing was steady, a gentle rhythm that added to the soothing hum of the plane. 

You shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable without disturbing him, but his hand tightened instinctively on your thigh, holding you in place. It was a small, protective gesture that made your heart flutter.

What you loved the most was when Soonyoung finally woke up, blinking sleepily and then immediately apologizing. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, his face flushed with embarrassment. You chuckled, assuring him it was okay, that he had every right to rest. He seemed genuinely mortified, even offering, “You can sleep on my shoulder too, I promise.”

You smiled at his earnestness, brushing it off with a light, “Maybe on the way back, then,” as the announcement came that you were about to land.

Once you arrived, Soonyoung was quick to grab the suitcases from the taxi, his efficiency a comfort as you made your way to the hotel's check-in counter.

The concierge’s eyes seemed to linger on you a little too long, his gaze sliding over your sundress and perhaps admiring more than just the attire. 

As you waited for the receptionist, the concierge leaned casually on the counter, offering a friendly, yet slightly flirtatious, smile.

“First time here, ma’am?” he asked, his tone smooth and inviting.

“Well, yes...” you replied, keeping your voice polite but detached. You could feel the weight of his attention and tried to subtly stretch your hand, making sure the gold ring on your finger was clearly visible.

The concierge didn’t seem to get the hint, or perhaps he chose to ignore it. “You’re in for a treat. We’ve got some wonderful spots for—”

Before he could continue, you felt Soonyoung's presence behind you, a comforting warmth at your back. His body pressed lightly against yours, a subtle yet possessive gesture that didn’t go unnoticed. His hand slipped around your waist, resting just below your belly, the touch gentle but unmistakably protective.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Everything alright?” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity and a subtle edge.

You could almost feel the shift in the air. The concierge straightened up, his expression flickering between surprise and a polite smile. “Oh, just making sure your stay is perfect,” he said, his tone now more professional, eyes darting between you and Soonyoung.

“Thank you,” Soonyoung replied, his voice steady. His hand didn’t move from its spot on your belly, and the slight squeeze he gave was enough to send a clear message. You leaned back into him, feeling a rush of warmth at his silent claim.

The receptionist finally returned with your room keys, handing them over with a bright, “Welcome to our hotel! We hope you enjoy your stay.” With the keys in hand, you and Soonyoung made your way to the elevator.

As the doors closed, sealing you both from the world outside, you turned to Soonyoung with a smirk. “Looks like someone’s a little possessive.”

He grinned back, a playful glint in his eyes. “Just making sure everyone knows you’re taken.”

You tease him back with a playful smirk. “Well, it’s just a business marriage. You shouldn’t worry about stuff like that,” you say, your tone light and slightly mocking.

Soonyoung scoffs, turning his gaze to the side with a dramatic sigh. “You’re such an idiot,” he mocks, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“An idiot, hm?” you counter, crossing your arms with a smirk. “Well, I’m an idiot you agreed to marry, so I guess that makes you twice the fool.”

He raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Sharp tongue of yours, huh?”

You nod, feigning innocence. “What can I say? I’ve had years of practice.”

Soonyoung leans in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, it’s a shame. I was really looking forward to giving you something special once we got to our hotel room.”

Your curiosity piques immediately. “Something special? Like what?”

He grins, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, just something that’ll make you remember tonight.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to gauge his meaning. “Something that’ll make me remember tonight, huh? Care to elaborate?”

Soonyoung chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, I think you already know what I’m talking about.”

You narrow your eyes, playfully challenging him. “Do I? Because you’re being awfully vague.”

He leans back, enjoying the game. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

The teasing glint in his eyes only fuels your curiosity further. You know exactly what he’s implying, but you play along, eager to hear him say it outright.

“So,” you press, “what is it? Can you give me a hint?”

Soonyoung’s grin widens, clearly relishing the moment. “Let’s just say it’s something that’ll make you very excited. And not just because of the hotel’s decor.”

You roll your eyes, laughing softly. “Alright, alright. I get it. You’re being all mysterious.”

You sulk, trailing behind Soonyoung as he walks down the hallway toward your room. “Tell me, pleeeease,” you plead.

Soonyoung glances back at you with a mischievous smile. “Nope, not telling,” he says, his grin widening as he enjoys your insistence.

When you reach the door, Soonyoung unlocks it and pushes it open, gesturing for you to enter. You walk in, your eyes scanning the room briefly, but your focus quickly returns to Soonyoung. He places the suitcases by the door and then hops onto the bed, sprawling out with a relaxed sigh.

You stay standing by the door, your arms crossed over your chest, giving him a sulky, upset look. 

“So,” Soonyoung says with a defiant glare, “am I forgetting something?”

You pout, trying to look as curious and frustrated as possible. “You’ve got me curious,” you admit, your eyes wide.

He laughs, brushing his hand through his hair with a playful sigh. “You’re almost throwing a tantrum over this?”

Soonyoung slides his hand down his abdomen slowly, getting lower and lower, until he's wrapping his fingers around his cock through his white shorts. The outline is clear, thick, and perfectly defined against the fabric.

He gives it a little shake, a sly smile playing on his lips as he watches your reaction.

You stare at him in shock, your knees almost giving way as you take in the sight. Your mouth opens slightly, but no words come out as you struggle to process what you're seeing.

Soonyoung’s smile widens, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “Are you surprised?”

He chuckles softly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Well, I figured it was time to give you a little hint,” he says, his hand still resting casually on his bulge. “So, do you think you’re ready to find out what else I have in store for tonight?”

You stammer, unable to look away from the outline of his cock pressed against the fabric of his shorts. “Do we have to wait until nightfall?”

Soonyoung licks his lips, his gaze never leaving you. “Oh,” he drawls, “but you have to walk properly tonight, so we can go to the restaurant.”

Your eyes darken, a fire igniting within you. “You think I can’t handle all of this inside?” 

He raises an eyebrows. “You shouldn’t,” he says, his voice dripping with devilishness. “It’s just a business wedding, after all.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Just a business wedding, huh? You really want to test me?”

Soonyoung chuckles, clearly enjoying the playful back-and-forth. “That’s right. Let’s see if you can keep your composure while we enjoy a nice dinner.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “Challenge accepted,” 

You’ve never been so turned on by someone’s mere presence before. The entire city tour was a cruel game of torture, all at Soonyoung’s hands. 

In the taxi, his hand had wandered to your nude thigh, brushing against your skin like a feather. The way his fingers lightly caressed your inner leg made your heart race and your breath catch. 

At the restaurant, the casual caresses continued. His leg pressed against yours under the table, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

The warmth of his skin against yours, the way he would occasionally let his knee slide up your thigh—each movement was like an electric current surging through you, leaving you squirming in your seat.

Walking through the jewelry fair was an exercise in restraint. As you admired the sparkling displays, Soonyoung’s hands kept drifting to the exposed skin of your back. His touch was light, almost playful, but each graze against your bare skin made you shiver with need. 

You could barely focus on the dazzling jewels in front of you; your mind was consumed with the need for him.

By the time you were back in the elevator, you felt like you were on the edge of losing control. You could feel his eyes on you, sharp and hungry, as you pressed yourself against the wall. 

You turned your face away, but you couldn’t hide the truth from him. Your nipples, straining against your dress, betrayed your arousal. Your legs, pressed tightly together, were a clear sign of your desperation. Even your unsteady breaths gave you away.

When you finally arrived at the hotel room, you barely made it inside before your desperation took over. 

You throw him against the wall, hands planted firmly on his chest. The sound reverberates through the room, probably making the neighbors wonder what the hell is going on. His usually small eyes are wide, staring at you flaggerblasted. 

Your breath mingles with his as you lean in, letting your lips barely graze his. Your voice comes out breathy, almost desperate, “Please. Stop teasing me.”

For a moment, he's stunned, caught off guard by the whininess in your voice and the look on your face—like you might break if he doesn't give you what you need right now.

It's a twisted scenario, considering you're his childhood friend turned wife is standing before him with an expression that borders on agony—an agony only he can alleviate.

For a moment, he looks like he might laugh, but he knows he's on the verge of losing all sense of control, but a part of him relishes the idea. 

“Say it again,” he murmurs. He knows he's playing with fire, but he can't resist the thrill. His lips barely brush against yours, teasing, taunting.

“Soonyoung, I'm going to fucking cry if you don't—”

“Hold it,” he commands,you shudder, your breath hitching as he lifts your dress. And you comply, bunching the fabric in your fists to keep it out of the way. 

His hand slides down the front of your panties, and your head falls back. 

Soonyoung leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear. “You’re so fucking impatient,” he growls. 

His fingers slide through your slick folds, finding you wet and wanting, throbbing everytime he rubs his fat fingers on you. “You’ve never even tasted my cock, and you’re already obsessed, huh?” He presses his thumb against your clit, making you gasp. “You’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You whimper, your hips bucking against his hand. You can barely think straight. “Please, Soonyoung,” you beg again, your voice cracking.

He chuckles darkly, clearly relishing your desperation. “You want my cock so bad, don't you?” His fingers slide inside you, curling just right, and you cry out. “You want me to fuck you senseless? Make you scream my name?”

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. The words spill out of you, unfiltered and raw. “I want you to ruin me.”

“You’ve never had anyone fill you up like I will,” he says. “I’m gonna stretch you out so good, baby. You’ll be begging for more, even when you can’t take it.”

The dirty talk, the sheer vulgarity of his words, makes you even wetter. You feel like you're on the verge of losing control, and it's rousing. 

Soonyoung's fingers pump in and out of you, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. His thumb rubs relentless circles on your clit, and you can feel the tension building, winding tighter and tighter.

“You’re gonna cum on my fingers first,” he whispers. “And then I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for days. Is that what you want, baby? To be fucked so good, you can’t even think about anything else?”

“Yes, yes, please,” you pant, your voice high and desperate. You can feel the orgasm building, Soonyoung's touch is all-consuming, driving you wild with every stroke.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs.“So eager to please. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

Here and there, Soonyoung is driving you insane with his body affixed to the wall, one strong arm holding your leg up. His wrist swiveling to match his fingers as they explore your weeping cunt and his repetitive rubbing of the areas that cause you to roll your eyes. 

You cry out, gasping as you roll your hips onto his fingers, the orgasm making you forget what would be appropriate at the time. Soonyoung's fingers work you through it, drawing out every last drop of you.

As you come down from the high, you realize you're still clinging to him, fingers deep on his muscular shoulders, your breaths coming in hiccups. Soonyoung pulls his fingers out of you, and you feel a pang of loss.

Your legs feel like jelly, and you can barely stand. Soonyoung catches you, pulling you close. 

Soonyoung's eyes rake over you, his smirk widening as he takes in the sight of your trembling legs. “You're trembling,” he chuckle. His gaze drops to the slick mess between your thighs, and he bites his lip, clearly reveling in the sight. “Better than this... you're literally dripping,” appreciating. 

He lets your leg down, holding you firmly as he guides you back onto the bed. The plush mattress sinks under your weight.

“God forgive me,” he continues, “but if our mothers weren't in that dressing room that day, I would've fucked you right there in the store. With that princess veil of yours... I would've pinned you against the mirror and made you scream my name.”

Your mouth falls open. The image of him taking you into that bridal shop, surrounded by white lace and satin, ​​hitting you like a punch to the gut.

You're not sure what shocks you more: his bold declaration or the way your body reacts to it, growing wetter with every word.

He smirks at your reaction.

“What's the matter, princess? Cat got your tongue?" He teases. His fingers slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. “Or are you just too turned on to speak?"

He's right; you're completely at his mercy, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a response.

He strips off his shirt, revealing the sculpted lines of his torso, then shucks off his shorts. His erection strains against the fabric of his boxers, and he groans, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as he palms himself.

“I could've fucked you on that altar,” he visualize. "In front of all those guests. Just to show everyone that no matter how arranged this marriage was, you're mine. No one else's.”

He opens his eyes, locking onto yours. “I would've spread you open right there, had you screaming my name, showing them all who you belong to."

His dirty words, the way he claims you with every syllable, makes your head spin.

Soonyoung's hand moves over his bulge, his eyes never leaving yours. “You don't even know how much I've wanted you,” he hisses. “How much I want to fuck you senseless, make you mine in every way.”

He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear. “And tonight, I'm going to do just that. I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget about everyone else. Just me, and this cock inside you, filling you up until you can't think straight.”

You squirm, your body responding to his filthy promises. You can't tear your eyes away from him, your mind racing with the possibilities of what the night holds. 

Soonyoung's fingers brush against the hem of your dress, and you shudder at the contact. “Take it off,” he orders, his voice rough. “I want you naked, spread out on this bed, ready for me.” His eyes bore into yours, and you know he's not just asking—he's demanding. 

You slip your dress over your head, tossing it aside as you finally catch sight of Soonyoung completely naked. His hand moves over his erection, the cockhead glistening with precum. The sight makes you lick your lips.

“Can you—” he starts to ask, but you cut him off, not needing him to finish.

“Yes!” you nearly moan. His eyes darken, a smirk playing on his lips as you drop to your knees in front of him.

You take a moment to appreciate the sight before you. His cock is thick and veined, the head an angry red, glossy with precum. You can almost taste it just from looking.

Tentatively, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the tip, tasting the salty precum on your tongue. It's musky and slightly bitter, but it makes you want to choke on this cock. You swirl your tongue around the head, savoring the taste and the way his breath hitches above you.

Soonyoung's hand tangles in your hair, guiding you closer. “Yes, baby,” he groans, his voice thick with need. “Just like that.”

Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. The texture of his cock is smooth yet rigid, the veins pulsating against your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, creating a tight seal as you bob your head, taking more of him with each movement.

His hips jerk forward involuntarily, and you hear a strangled moan escape his lips. “Shit, that feels so good,” he pants, his grip on your hair tightening. You look up at him through your lashes, your eyes meeting his. The sight of him looking down at you, his face twisted in pleasure, spurs you on.

You slide your hand up his thigh, wrapping it around the base of his cock to stroke what you can't fit in your mouth. Your other hand cups his balls, gently massaging them as you continue to suck him. 

You hum around his length, sending vibrations through him. He shudders, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. “You're so fucking good at this,” he praises, his voice breathless. “So eager, so perfect.”

You moan around his cock at the praise. You take him deeper, pushing your limits as you feel him hit the back of your throat. You gag slightly but push through, wanting to please him, wanting to show him how much you want this.

“Y/N,” he gasps, his hips bucking forward again. “You're going to make me cum if you keep doing that.”His voice is strained, you don't know if he's warning you or if he's desperate.

You don't let up, doubling your efforts. You suck harder, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head every time you pull back. Your hand continues to pump the base of his cock, matching the rhythm of your mouth. You can feel him throbbing, his cock pulsing with need.

Soonyoung's moans grow louder, more desperate. His breaths come in uneven pants, his body tense with the need for release. “Fuck, Y/N, I'm so close,” he warns, his voice breaking.

You look up at him, your eyes locking with his as you take him even deeper. You want to see him come undone, to watch him lose control because of you. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth, and with one last swirl of your tongue, he lets out a choked moan.

He comes hard, his hips jerking as he spills into your mouth. The taste of his release floods your senses, warm and salty. You swallow every drop, savoring the way he trembles above you. His hand in your hair tightens, holding you in place as he rides out his orgasm.

His hand gently strokes your hair after, a contrast to the rough grip from moments before. You pull back, licking your lips and savoring the last taste of him.

He lifts you up effortlessly, his lips crashing into yours. He doesn't care that his cock was just in your mouth seconds ago or that his cum lingers on your tongue. The taste of himself on your lips makes him moan, the sound vibrating between you.

After a moment, he pulls back, one hand wrapping around your throat, not tight but firm enough to make you feel his presence. His eyes bore into yours, as he licks his sensitive lips.

“You were sucking me so good,” he rasps, “that I almost said ‘I love you’.” 

A laugh bursts out of you, hearty and genuine, and he watches you with a smirk. 

“I swear,” he continues, his tone playful. “if I'd known marrying you would come with benefits like this, I would've done it way sooner.” “I feel like I owe you something after that blowjob,” he says, his voice dropping into a deeper, more sultry tone.

You bite your lip, a dirty thought flashing through your mind, and Soonyoung picks up on it immediately. Soonyoung's gaze narrows, reading the filth in your expression

“What is it? What do you want?” he asks excitedly.

“Can you fuck me… doggy style?” you ask.

“Yes, I can,” The corners of his mouth twitch, barely holding back a grin.

You look up, pretending to be lost in thought, then say, “Can you fuck me in missionary?”

He nods again, biting his lip, his grip on your throat tightening just a little.

“Can you fuck me inside… the shower?” 

He presses you tightly against him, his hand gripping your waist possessively, but your gaze still eating him whole. 

“I can fuck you upside down, sideways, any way you want, baby,” he answers, his voice steady and confident. “Just say the word, and I'll make it happen.”

You moan in response. Too early to say that you're already dumb for his cock?

“Get on all fours and lift that pretty ass for me.”

As you crawl up the bed, you make sure to put on a show. You arch your back, lifting your ass higher, giving Soonyoung the view he wants. You wiggle it a little, teasing him. 

The motion makes your pussy lips part slightly, already slick and ready for him. You can feel his eyes on you, burning with thirst. Without warning, his hand comes down hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you gasp. You let out a yelp. You know that mark will be there tomorrow, like a postmark, like a stamp, like a reminder of this moment, and the thought makes you even wetter.

He moves behind you, the bed dipping under his weight. You feel his hands on your hips, gripping you firmly as he positions himself. You can't help but push back against him, seeking more contact.

“So fucking perfect,” he mutters, running his hands over the curves of your ass, squeezing the flesh and kneading it roughly. He spreads you open, taking in the sight of your wetness.  “Look at how ready you are for me. You're dripping, baby.”

You moan, pushing back against him, desperate for more. “Please, Soonyoung, I need you.”

“Fuck, you sound so desperate,” he taunts, positioning himself behind you. His cock slides against your folds, teasing you, making you whimper. “Beg for it. Beg for my cock.”

“Please, Soonyoung, fuck me,” you whine. “I need your cock inside me, please. I can’t wait any longer.”

He doesn't tease, doesn't make you wait any longer. He thrusts in with one hard, deep stroke, filling you completely. The sudden intrusion makes you cry out, a slight discomfort as your walls stretch around him. But it makes your toes curl. 

“God, you’re so tight,” he groans, gripping your hips as he starts to move. “So fucking tight and wet for me. You feel that? That’s my cock stretching your pussy.”

You moan loudly, the pleasure building with each thrust. “Yes, Soonyoung, I feel it. It feels so good. Fuck me harder.”

He picks up the pace, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. He reaches around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles. The sudden burst of pleasure makes you gasp, your body jolting.

He pulls back slowly, only to slam back in, setting a rough, punishing rhythm, making you roll your eyes back.

He's so deep, hitting spots you didn't even know existed. Each thrust makes you see stars, and you can't help but moan loudly, not caring if the entire hotel hears you. The stretch, the fullness, it's all so overwhelming, so fucking good.

“Come on,” he urges, voice a low growl. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you squeeze this cock.”

It's all too much. The feel of his cock, his fingers on your clit, the dirty words spilling from his lips—it all sends you over the edge. The second orgasm of the night making you feel already exhausted. Your voice hoarse, as you feel yourself sloppier between your legs. 

There's no mercy in his movements; he's fucking you through your high, pushing you beyond your limits. Each time he hits your cervix, a sharp jolt of pleasure-pain ripples through you, making your arms tremble uncontrollably.

You try to hold yourself up, but your strength falters. With a soft cry, your arms give out, and your chest falls against the bed. Soonyoung lets out a low chuckle, a smug grin spreading across his face as he watches you crumble beneath him. Even with your body slack, you're impossibly tight around him, your pussy squeezing him like a vice. 

Soonyoung’s hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he continues to pound into you from behind. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you, making your walls clench involuntarily around him. 

He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear, and you can hear the pride in his voice as he coos, “Aww, look at you. So fucking helpless, so fucking wrecked. You can’t even hold yourself up, can you?” 

You can barely muster a response, a breathy whimper escaping your lips as you feel the tears start to stream down your cheeks. It’s an almost incredulous feeling, the tears mixing with the sweat on your face. 

You’ve never been fucked like this before, never been pushed to the brink and then beyond, your body betraying you as it trembles under his control. It’s a raw, visceral experience that leaves you gasping for air, your mind a hazy blur of feel.

Soonyoung notices the tears, and his smirk grows wider. “Look at you, crying for me,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Is it too much, baby? Too fucking good? Love being fucked so hard you can’t even think straight?” 

His hand moves from your hip to your hair, tangling his fingers in it and pulling your head back, forcing you to arch your back even more. The angle shifts, and he hits that perfect spot inside you, making you moan loudly, your voice cracking with the intensity of it all.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his hips snapping forward with even more force. “God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard. It’s like your pussy doesn’t want to let me go.” He punctuates his words with deep, hard thrusts that leave you reeling, each one sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through your body.

“So pretty when you cry,” he continues, his tone almost taunting. “I could do this all day, just watch you fall apart on my cock” His words are filthy, degrading, but they ignite something inside you, a desperate need for more. 

The way he speaks to you, the way he claims you with each word and each thrust, is addictive.

You can’t hold back your sobs. “Please,” you manage to choke out, not even sure what you’re begging for anymore. 

More, less, anything—just something to ease the dizzying sensation coursing through you.

He laughs softly, a dark, knowing sound that makes your skin prickle. “Please what, baby? You want me to stop? You want me to fuck you harder?” 

He pulls out almost completely, the emptiness leaving you gasping, and then slams back in with a force that makes your whole body jolt.

“You’re so fucking greedy. Can’t get enough, can you? You want this cock to ruin you, want me to fuck you so good you’ll feel it for days.”

All you can do is moan and sob, your body shuddering with each thrust as he pounds into you. The bed creaks under the force of his movements, it’s dirty, raw, and utterly nasty.

“Gonna make you cum again,” he murmurs, his voice a dark promise. 

And as you feel the tension building inside you again, that familiar coil of pleasure tightening in your belly—you know he’s right.

He lays you gently on the bed, your back sinking into the mattress. Your face, flushed and glistening with sweat, looks completely wrecked, completely exhausted. Soonyoung feels a brief flicker of pity, but it quickly dissipates as you babble out your dirty words, barely coherent but dripping with need. “Please... Soonyoung... more, need you so bad... fuck…”

He smirks, spreading your wobbly legs apart, exposing the slick, swollen mess between them. “You can barely form a sentence, and yet you still want more.”

He slides his cock back inside you, stretching you open once more. 

Soonyoung's thumb finds your clit again, and he begins to work it in slow, light-touch circles. The sensation is maddening, a delicious contrast to the deep, methodical thrusts of his cock. 

He watches your face intently, drinking in every expression, every gasp and whimper."That's it, baby," he coos. “Let me see that pretty face when you cum.”

You can barely keep your eyes open, your body overly sensitive from the previous orgasms, but he doesn't let up.

His other hand moves to your chest, fondling your breast, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple before sliding up to wrap around your throat. This time, the grip is firm, real, and you can feel the delicious pressure as he chokes you just enough to make your head spin.

He leans in closer, his eyes never leaving your face. 

You cling to him, your arms wrapping tightly around his body, pulling him closer as if you could merge with him, become one. The scent of sweat and skin mingling in the air—it all consumes you. 

Your body is trembling, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core, a white-hot band of pressure that threatens to snap. Soonyoung's moans are louder now, but they seem distant, like they're coming from underwater, muffled by the roaring in your ears.

His pace quickens, and you feel yourself losing control, your mind slipping away from the physical world. The room, the bed, even Soonyoung—all of it fades into the background. 

There's only the blinding, all-encompassing pleasure that fills every nerve, every cell in your body. It's like being pulled under a wave, the sensation crashing over you with a force that's almost violent.

Your thighs tremble uncontrollably, and you can feel the muscles in your abdomen clenching, the buildup to your orgasm reaching its peak.

And then, it hits. The climax rips through you, a white-hot explosion that leaves you gasping, the world narrowing down to the blinding sensation of pure, unadulterated pleasure. 

Your back arches off the bed, your mouth opening in a silent scream as your vision goes white. The intensity is mind-numbing, erasing everything else from your mind except the overwhelming euphoria that pulses through you.

Your body shakes with the force of it, your legs quivering, toes curling as the pleasure radiates outward from your core. You can feel the slickness between your thighs, the way your walls flutter and squeeze around Soonyoung, pulling him deeper inside you. 

Soonyoung's name falls from your lips in a choked sob, your voice hoarse and trembling. 

You slowly come back to reality, feeling the weight of Soonyoung's body on top of you, his cum warm and sticky between your bellies.

Soonyoung pants loudly, trying to catch his breath. He lifts his head slightly to look at you, concern flickering in his eyes despite the satisfied smile on his lips. “You okay, wifey?” he asks.

You manage a weak smile, still feeling the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. “I’m okay, hubby,”

His smile widens, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he murmurs. “You were amazing.”

You chuckle softly, the sound a bit strained. “You weren’t too bad yourself,” you tease, your hand coming up to rest on his back, feeling the muscles still taut from effort.

He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against your own. “Glad I could satisfy my wife on our first night together,” 

“Think we should clean up?” Soonyoung asks after a while.

“Probably,” you agree, though neither of you makes a move to get up just yet. You’re too content, too wrapped up in the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence.

Eventually, with a reluctant sigh, Soonyoung shifts, carefully pulling away from you. The cool air hits your skin, making you shiver slightly. He helps you sit up, his hands gentle and supportive as you both make your way to the bathroom.

The weight of the wedding ring on your finger feels heavier now, more symbolic than ever. It’s not just a piece of jewelry; it’s a constant reminder of the commitment you’ve made and the life you’re building together.

Soonyoung, despite his own exhaustion, is kneeling beside the tub, gently washing you. His focused expression as he works to make sure you’re clean and comfortable. The sight of him, so dedicated and caring, makes your heart swell.

You feel a pang of guilt as you see the tiredness etched on his face, a reminder of how much he’s given for you, both physically and emotionally. Your legs, still trembling from the aftermath of the passion, had given up on you, leaving you reliant on him. The thought of him taking care of you, even in his weariness, makes you feel both grateful and a bit ashamed.

“Hey,” you say softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “You don’t have to do this. I can manage on my own.”

Soonyoung looks up at you, his eyes softening as he smiles. “I want to,” he says quietly. “You took care of me earlier, and now it’s my turn to take care of you. Besides, it’s kind of nice, being able to do this for you.”

You look him in the eye and sense the truth in his words. His warm, comforting smile belies the weariness that is evident in the lines on his face. 

[...]

As you and Soonyoung lie together in bed, the room is quiet except for the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional sigh from either of you. The memories of what just happened still lingers in the air, making both of you feel a bit shy and stunned.

As Soonyoung lays his head on your chest, you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. He sighs contentedly, his fingers lightly tracing patterns around your breast. 

“So,” he begins, his voice tinged with both surprise and a hint of playfulness, “when I hinted at what I wanted, I honestly didn’t think you'd go for it. I was kind of... hoping, but also preparing for a rejection.”

You chuckle softly, your fingers running through his hair. “Oh really? And why not?”

“Well, for one, you’re ridiculously hot. I didn’t think you’d be that into it right off the bat.”

You giggle, feeling a rush of confidence. “Oh, come on. Why wouldn’t I? You’re hot, and let’s be honest, you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Damn, so you think I’m hot, huh? And here I was thinking I’d have to put in a little more effort.” He rises to look at you, but you make him lay again, your cheeks flushed.

“I can’t believe we managed to go from ‘I do’ to ‘Let’s fuck’ in just a few days. We really don’t waste any time, do we?” You say, grinning. 

“Yeah, I guess I underestimated how much I’d resist you, but I knew I was in trouble from the moment we got married… I thought I’d be a strong soldier, holding out a bit longer.”

He hums thinking. 

“I’m surprised I managed to hold out for as long as I did.” he finishes.

You raise an eyebrow, a naughty smile playing on your lips. "Well, I guess you’re not as disciplined as you thought. Seems like you fell for me quicker than you’d like to admit.”

Soonyoung’s eyes sparkle. “You’ve got me completely hooked.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, your hand resting on his cheek. “Poor soldier. Captured by the enemy and all. What will you do now?”

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a tender kiss. "I guess I’ll just have to surrender to you completely.”

“Even the strongest can fall. And let’s be real, I’m pretty good at making sure my soldiers surrender.” You shrugged, smirking. 

He bursts into laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. “Damn, you really know how to make a guy feel like a total pushover.”

“I plan on keeping you hooked, you know—well, at least until the next time we have a ‘conversation’ like tonight."

“Well, if this is what marriage looks like, I think I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.”

[rowarn]

shadow entity!ghost part: one | two | three

cw: angry!ghost, umm he hurts u )-:, but he feels bad so it's okay, a bit shorter than other parts

the mystery surrounding ghost was driving you insane. living with a primordial entity of unfathomable horrors was already a mindfuck but now you realized it could just...erase people from existence.

no one had asked about phillip, no one had shown up to seek you out since you were the last one to see him before he vanished. you even wandered into the bar he said he frequented -- and he seemed well known in. and...nothing. no one even brought up how he went home with you and never returned. no one asked about him.

it was unnerving. had ghost somehow pulled all memory of this one human out of the world along with its physical form? where did phillip even go? all you remember was being surrounded by the shadow and how hard it was to breathe -- and the horrible, inhuman scream before silence.

it had already confirmed that it wasn't a ghost. so what was it?

"ghost?" you called into the house as you returned from the bar, "can you come out so we can talk?"

as you stepped into the living room, you took a glance at the scorch mark on the floor before your attention was diverted to it -- a shadowy manifestation across from you.

it didn't speak, simply stood there. usually you would divert your eyes from its face because something about it unsettled you, but this time you stared right at it. shapes formed and faded before your eyes, making you wonder if you were really seeing them in the first place. eyes, sometimes two sometimes dozens. a vague, fading silhouette of a skull face. you wonder if it intentionally let you see these images or if it just was.

"i-i want to know..." you swallow thickly around the nervous lump in your throat, "is phillip dead?"

it was quiet for a moment, "not quite."

"what's that mean? where is he?" you prod, furrowing your brows as you stare at it, hoping that it can understand your pleading.

"why do you care?"

"b-because..." you sputtered, licking your dry lips, "i just...want to know."

"he's in the pits," it finally supplies, sounding almost bored.

"...of hell?" you sputter, "so you're a demon?"

"your hell is a bastardization of the pits," it explains, "where i come from is not hell. it's worse, darker. that's where i put the human."

"can you...can you bring him back..?" you whisper.

ghost's shadow flickers and it falls silent for a moment before speaking again, "i could. but you don't want that."

you can't help but think you'll regret asking but you do anyway, "...why?"

"he's not the same anymore," it explains, "it's much kinder to simply leave him in the pits."

you're not sure how to take that. it doesn't answer any of your questions. what exactly are the pits? what happens in them? what is happening to phillip down there?

"ghost..." you take a small step back and you swear you see it's head cock to the side curiously, "what are you?"

"you can consider me a demon if you wish," it responded, taking a step forward to follow you.

your heart skips a beat, "but you're not."

"no," it answers with ease.

"so tell me what you are," you demand, growing tired of these mind games it's playing with you.

"i don't think your human mind can comprehend just what i am," it says.

"try me," you challenge, already mentally slapping yourself.

"no," it responds.

your temper flares, "just tell me, damn you! what the hell are you?"

suddenly, the shadow grows in size -- as do your eyes. you watch as it takes up more space in the room, that overpowering weight on your body making you wince. it makes the room feel so heavy, makes your bones ache to the marrow.

you're not sure how you know -- despite the fact it's not saying anything; you know you've made it very angry. your eyes lock onto his shadowy form, making out the horrible, unsettling images of eyeballs inside the darkness that flicker in and out of your vision.

nausea settles like a pit in your stomach and you double over, dropping to your hands and your knees to keep yourself from throwing up. your head throbs and aches, a ringing in your ears only makes the pain worse. it feels like your eyes are going to pop out of their sockets from the overwhelming pressure growing inside your skull.

"s-stop..." you manage to choke out before you slump against the floor.

then, all at once it's gone. you gasp for air once it finally feels like there's nothing coiling around your lungs and tears trickle down your cheeks. you're not sure if you're trembling from the pain or from the fear you just experienced.

you can't bring yourself to uncurl yourself from the ball you've found yourself in on the floor.

you're acutely aware that ghost hasn't left -- in fact, you can hear it's heavy footsteps on the creaky wooden floor as it approaches you. it kneels down, disturbing the air around you with the movement.

you feel a strange weight on your head and it takes your foggy mind a moment to realize that it's touching you. as if it had reached a hand out and was tenderly petting your head, consoling you.

a silent apology before it vanishes completely.

when you finally uncurl and look around, you see yet another strange, scorch mark on the ground where it had stood.

you realize instantly that those scorch marks are a manifestation of it's anger. pure, unbridled rage that leaves a physical mark on the ground where it stands.

you swallow thickly and close your eyes again, deciding that standing is much too hard for now.

do not repost to third party sites. reblogs okay!

[zevrra]

𝐢𝐢. 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

synop: things escalate even more inside the lab and jayce no longer wants to just watch.

wc: 1.9k

includes: straight up smüt, fem!reader, cünnilingus, händjob, threesome, fïngering, slight mästurbation, dirty talk

extra: part 1 is here! part 3 coming soon >:3

you quickly replace where jayce and viktor had been leaning against the table. guided by a pair of strong hands, you follow along until you place your full weight on the table while jayce stands off to your side, his fingers working on unbuttoning the front of your shirt as he kisses against your neck. viktor shimmies you out of the pants you wear, parts your legs to slip in between them, placing his own sweet kisses against your inner thighs.

your shirt is practically torn away, tossed about somewhere to be forgotten until later, as jayce replaces the fabric with one of his hands. his warm hand slides along your waist, up your stomach, before he grabs one of your breasts. he cautiously gropes the mound of flesh, testing the waters while a little voice in the back of your head tells you maybe it’s his first time…you’d have to remember to ask about it later.

“jayce,” you mumble, using your fingers to grip his belt and tug on it. “off.” you command with a pout.

he chuckles against your skin, kissing his way up to your jaw. doesn’t say anything in response to your demands, instead he just strips most of what he wears off too. his jacket is thrown away and he slips off his tie, tossing it away along with his shirt as it’s quick to follow the rest of his clothes. and you do your best not to stare too much as he exposes his upper body. you’d have plenty of time to look and burn the image of him into your head later as his hands move to fumble on the prize you’re really after. he continues his trail of kisses along your shoulder as you get to watch his fingers fumble with his pants for a brief moment before he unbuckles the belt he wears.

and you always had a feeling he’d be well endowed, and your gut feeling is right, but he was a little bigger than you had expected as jayce shrugs his pants and underwear down; allowing you to finally get a good look at what has been straining against his pants since he first walked into the room. you and viktor share a soft gasp at the reveal. viktor stops kissing your thighs for the moment and you glance down at the man between your legs, your own mouth agape. vik stares at jayce, his mouth slightly open in bewilderment like your own, before he looks up at you. and you both softly laugh in disbelief, before you both turn back to stare at jayce.

“i would never have guessed you were blessed with both looks and girth, jayce.” viktor teases, his fingers scraping along your thighs to keep you stimulated as he places a single kiss against your knee.

“all your previous partners must have been very satisfied.” you add behind viktor’s teasing, sharing another laugh.

jayce turns bright red and rolls his eyes, joining in on the soft laughter with a shake of his head. “ok, ok—enough you two. back to this, please.” jayce begs with a huff. turning his attention back to you and with a gentle hand, he places it against your chin and pulls you forward to him, eagerly pressing his lips against yours as all three of you fall back into a sex fantasy come to life.

doesn’t take much for him to dominate your mouth either. you try to make him work for it but just like viktor you’re weak under his lips. and he kisses you like he’s never tasted anything so delicious before, as his fingers reach to pinch and pull at your nipples. you softly groan against his lips as he plays with your breasts. every noise you make does nothing but make him hungrier and needier for you. his tongue locks with yours as he deepens the kiss. and in return, you find your fingers fumbling against his hip, following along taunt muscle until your fingers wrap around the base of his cock. and it’s so big you can’t even fit all of your fingers around him but you stroke up along his shaft anyway, earning a well deserved grunt from the large man. which makes you smile against his lips in return.

but your victory is short lived as the panties you wear are shifted to the side and viktor dives into to lick right up against your aching core. you gasp harshly as viktor begins to eat out your sensitive pussy while he looks up at your face for any reaction. “viktor!” you cry, breaking the kiss with jayce to turn and stare down at vik, just as he sucks on your clit. an eyebrow raises up right back at you, acting as if he’s innocent but he knew better.

vik’s nose is pressed flush against your body as he sucks on your cunt, wet noises echoing off the walls of the lab. you try to speak again but the sudden tingling pleasure from viktor sucking your clit forces your body to tense up, shutting you up, and you squeeze around jayce; who hisses in your ear with his own rush of pleasure. he staggers just a little at the tightness around his cock, pressing his forehead into the side of your head to catch himself and he groans heavily from deep within his chest.

you can only manage a weak sorry as you loosen your grip and return to stroking his hard cock. you stare right into viktor’s own pretty amber eyes as he continues to eat you out. both of you keeping eye contact the entire time as he uses a mix of your slick and his saliva to press his tongue roughly against your sensitive cunt again and again.

jayce places a hot kiss against your ear, turning his own gaze to watch viktor as well. he breathes heavy against your skin, groaning at the sight of viktor eating you out while you continue to stroke him off. “you must taste so sweet.” jayce pants into the shell of your ear as one of his hands trails down the front of your body. viktor hums positively in response, making it a point to suck harshly against your core as to say that he agrees with what jayce says. you tense up from the pleasure again, whining helplessly just as jayce smoothes his hand across your lower abdomen and all the way down. until he finally reaches where viktor licks, sliding two thick fingers along your pussy before spreading it open for viktor to dive further in.

you gasp at the sensation of his fingers slithering against your core while vik’s tongue stays working on lapping between your lips. you can almost feel him smile against your body as he moves to sucks harshly against your exposed clit thanks to jayce, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body.

“fuck!” you cry, tossing your head back as your body shudders at vik’s work. can’t help it when your hand on jayce starts to slip as you're wrapped up in your own pleasure but his hand is faster as he removes it from your core to wrap around your hand on his shaft.

“don’t stop. feels good.” jayce whispers as he begins to move your hand for you. guiding your hand from his thick base all the way up to the tip, thrusting his hips every time you reach his angry red tip. he twitches in your grasp at every single thrust and all of it makes you dizzy.

you’re turning into a pathetic mess. with viktor’s tongue against your pussy and jayce whispering in your ear, helping you jerk him off, your insides feel like exploding from the pleasure. you wanted, needed, more though and apparently jayce had the same idea.

after a few more strokes, and from the sound of his raspy grunts, he’s not going to last much longer. and before he could come he wanted a taste of you too. viktor made it look just too damn good. so he finally releases your hand and sinks down onto his knees beside viktor, adjusting your leg to rest up on his shoulder, tearing your underwear away from your body. and getting to watch this giant man bend his knees to pleasure you beside his best friend, well it makes you throb. heat rushes from your chest to the tips of your fingers as you now stare down at two of the prettiest men you’ve ever laid with.

and you watch with wild eyes as jayce turns viktor towards him and brings him in for another kiss. jayce starts by licking across viktor’s bottom lip, tasting you off of viktor, before their tongues clash again. rolling and rushing against each other as they make out, hovering over your soaking core. if they opened their mouths just a little more you’re almost sure their shared spit could’ve rolled down viktor’s chin and onto your pussy. and you groan at the thought of it happening, snaking your hand between your thighs to continue where viktor left off for the moment. pressing your fingers against your center, rubbing over your clit, as you watch your two closest friends share a hot, passionate kiss. and while it was so, so fucking hot watching them, your throbbing pussy needed some attention, more than your fingers could give it. you lean slightly forward to reach down and push your fingers through their hair, pulling on the strands to get them to focus on you and detangle from each other.

“focus here please.” you whine, instinctively opening your legs even wider for the two of them to fit.

“as you wish.” viktor mutters, dazed from the quick makeout session but he’s returning right back to licking against your cunt without hesitation.

“‘s sweet.” jayce confirms, licking his lips and locking his gaze with yours, before he follows viktor’s lead. he takes the lower half of your waiting pussy, lapping at the juices that flow freely.

now you get to watch both of them entangle against your core. licking and kissing against you, tongues colliding as they messily eat you out. while catching each other's lips for a few seconds before returning to their task. it was hotter than you could have imagined. them eating between your thighs while enjoying each other’s company—ohmygod—it was more than you could’ve ever asked for.

you toss your head back as a broken sob tumbles from your lips, fingers tightening in their hair. “going to come if you keep going.” you gasp as your body shudders harshly with a flick against your clit.

“do you want to come?” viktor asks with a smile, not waiting for an answer before he slips a finger easily inside of your aching cunt. he presses it as deeply as he can get while jayce sucks on your clit.

the added pressure coils the wire inside of your lower half even tighter, threatening to make you come. “w-wait!” you cry with a shake of your head but neither of them listen to you now. jayce leans back a little to spit against your pussy before diving back in, giving viktor the extra lube to slip a second finger inside, as he returns to attacking your clit while viktor fingers you harder and faster, drawing you closer to the edge.

and it doesn’t take much of their combined assault before you fumble over in your searing passion, gripping and grasping onto anything you can as you come around vik’s fingers and against jayce’s tongue. your head falls back with your rushing orgasm ripping through your body and you cry every single swear you can think of with the mix of jayce and viktor’s name on your tongue as you burst. that burning pressure in your lower abdomen snaps and you know you’ve made a mess but you don’t care; viktor and jayce lap up every drop.

it takes you awhile to come down from your orgasm, body still twitching and shaking, even after the two pull away from you. you’re still slumped back but you manage to raise your head ever so slightly to look over at the other two. and you briefly catch jayce licking viktor’s fingers clean before their attention turns back to you, waiting on you to tell them what to do. you pout in response, shifting onto your hip so you didn’t feel so weak. “i told you to wait.” you mumble.

now it’s their turn to share a laugh as jayce helps viktor up to his feet. “forgive us. you tasted too good.” viktor hums as he leans his weight against jayce.

“how can we make it up to you?” jayce follows up as they enclose upon you.

you want to continue to be bossy and pout but the sight of both of them on either side of you, hard and twitching and wanting more; both their pretty eyes blown with lust, lips swollen, and their faces soaking wet from your orgasm after throughly eating you out— every thought of you making them pay goes right out the window. so instead, you prop your foot up against the desk, pointing your knee outwards before trailing your hand to your still sensitive cunt. using your fingers to spread yourself open and with a red hot blush, you tell them directly what you want.

“i want both of you. right now.”

[nanaslutt]

Okay but perv Geto is so fucking good and so fucking accurate what if he caught reader using the shower head on herself and decided he would do her one better 👀

perv geto<3 my luv

contains: fem reader, voyerism, perv!geto masturbation(r!&geto), so much dirty talk, sexual tension, praise, degradation, unprotected sex, shower sex, whipped!geto, softer ending, implied aftercare

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“Fuuuu-mmm” you slapped a hand over your mouth to conceal your wines as the strong stream of water from the shower head hit your clit perfectly— the perfect temperature, the perfect pressure.

You had started out standing but quickly decided to make yourself as comfortable as possible on the smooth tile of the shower floor when you realized how intense the stimulation was.

Your legs were spread while you bucked your hips against the stream or water. Your body was jerking and jolting at the sensation of the water caressing just right under the hood of your clit.

You held your breath as the warm water brought you closer and closer to your high, jaw dropping and eyebrows scrunching together as you were pushed off the edge.

“Haaaa-aaah fuck-“ you whined a little too loudly. You felt your walls clench around nothing as your orgasm washed through your body, the warm steady pressure of water was working you over so well, prolonging the intense feeling as you jerked and gasped into the small room of the bathroom.

shlick shlick shlick

“Fuuuuck… cmon go again, do it again..” Geto whispered under his breath from the other side of the door.

You knew you weren’t being relatively as quiet as you know you should’ve been; having a roomate in the house; but you figured the water would drown out most of your noises.

You could not have been more wrong.

For the past five or so minutes that you had been getting up to your antics in the shower, Geto’s ear was pressed against the door, warm hand wrapped around his fist and pumping steadily while listening to your wines and curses as you got yourself off.

He heard you and Shoko talking about this new method to masturbate over the phone the other day, he didn’t mean to ease drop but.. yes he did.

The second he walked by your room and heard you repeat back to shoko, “A shower head? down there? really?” He froze in his tracks, listening to the short conversation after your question that followed.

Ever since that day, whenever you got in the shower he would follow right behind you. The moment he heard the shower come to life, his head was pressed against the thick wood door, listening for any telling signs that you were trying out this new trick you had learned.

And he is so glad he didn’t give up, night after night he spent standing at that door, shuffling his body weight between both of his feet as he waited so patiently to hear something, anything that sounded like you touching yourself, and he finally did.

He wanted to feel guilty he really did, but the vivid image he had painted of you, standing with the shower head you body used, against your clit, moaning and whining as you made yourself cum with it.. the guilt in his body was nowhere to be found.

You panted hard on the floor, squeezing your legs shut in comfort when your orgasm subsided, “holy shit,” you breathlessly whispered, amazed at how good that had felt.

You pulled your lip between your teeth, thinking. The water was still warm, so you couldn’t have been in there for too long.. a second round wouldn’t hurt.. right?

You spread your legs once more, wincing when you brought the shower head back to your clit, face scrunching as you tried to overcome the overstimulation you felt as trying to go again so soon.

You managed to push through it—though you realized you felt ten times more sensitive than before, it was proving to be harder to hold back your noises as you alternated between letting the water spray against your tight hole, and your sensitive little bud.

“Yesyesyes” Geto smiled triumphantly when he heard your noises start up again on the other side of the door after a brief pause. He started up his own hand again, stroking himself faster at the sound of your needier wines this time around.

He was picturing himself standing behind you, his cock fucking in and out of your tight hole while he held the shower head against your clit. He imagined you would protest at how it was too much, too good, to please give you a break— and of course he wouldn’t.

He would fuck into you harder, faster, he would manipulate the shower head in a way so the water was caressing your clit in circles, he pictured you curling in on yourself while you came all over him, he tried desperately to squeeze his hand in a pulsing motion to mimic what he thought your pussy would feel like when your high arrived.

He slowed down his strokes when an idea popped into his head. You could practically see a lightbulb form over him as he completely paused the strokes on his angry dick, quickly pushing his cock back into his pants and zipping them back up.

It was not unusual for the two of you to use the bathroom while the other was in the shower. The sliding shower door was one of those cloudy ones, so you could see nothing but the persons silhouette as they used the shower. The bathroom also had no lock, which Geto thought was absolutely perfect.

He rapped a quick knock onto the wood, “Coming in, gotta brush my teeth” he said as nonchalantly as he could, giving you a could seconds before he cracked the door open.

You were shocked out of your daze, slapping your legs together as the door opened, you prayed he would get his toothbrush and leave, like he usually did, but he had other plan.

“Oh- o-ok-“ You stuttered out when you saw his frame come through the door. You held your breath as you tried to ignore the throbbing between your legs, crying for you to continue the simulation before he interrupted you.

You watched his blurry frame grab his toothbrush, squeezing on the toothpaste and that’s when you froze. You watched as his head turned towards the shower, holding your breath before his deep voice spoke through the room.

“Why are you on the ground?” he questioned, making you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that if you tried hard enough, you might disappear. “Didn’t hear you fall, you okay?” he asked, knowing damn well you weren’t on the floor because you fell.

He wasn’t expecting to see you like this, but he couldn’t deny that the thought of you having to sit down from how weak your legs were from just putting a shower head to your clit was making him dizzy.

“I-i’m okay,” you answered, praying that would be the end of his interrogation— it wasn’t.

“Didn’t answer my question.” He repeated, a smirk you couldn’t see, spreading itself across his handsome face, “Why are you on the ground if you didn’t fall?” He spoke.

You stayed silent, looking around the four walls of the small shower box you were in, trying and failing to come up with some excuse, instead feeling your mouth flap open and closed like a fish while little ‘uhh’ and ‘umms’ fell from your lips.

You watched his figure sit down on the closed toilet seat. The silence in the room was making your heart race, had he heard you moaning?

“Where’s the shower head?” he asked. You pulled your lip into your mouth and closed your eyes, forgetting that you can see the shower head peak out from the top of the shower door.

“What are you doing?” you asked quietly, at this point, you knew he knew— and you knew he was teasing you about it.

“Just wanna know where my shower head went, I spent a lot of money for that attachment you know~” He cooed, making you sigh.

“I..” you started, opening your eyes and peeking at his blurry frame through your peripheral vision, “I have it.” You finished.

“Where?” he quickly responded, smile still plastered on his face, his hand coming down slowly to subtly rub himself over his pants, using the obstruction of the blurry shower door to conceal his antics.

“Down here, with me.” You answered. “What’s it doing down there? hmm?” His deep voice resonated.

You started to feel yourself grow hot, and it wasn’t because of the temperature of the water. “I needed it.” you answered vaguely, feeling yourself throb between your legs at this interaction.

“You needed it?” he repeated, rubbing himself harder over his pants, letting out a short laugh when all you responded with was a short ‘mhm’

He watched your form move behind the glass, guessing your legs had spread open again, watching your arm move to place the shower head back between your legs.

He heard your breath hitch quietly when the water made contact with your little bud once more, “Needed it bad, huh?” he spoke again.

You tipped your head back against the shower wall, ignoring the blaring signals of what the hell are you doing this is your roomate, going off in your head. Instead you opted to move the shower head in circles, letting the water caress your pussy in the way you needed.

“Who taught you that huh?” he asked, knowing full well who the culprit was, and internally thanking her. “A-a friend.” you responded, your breath picking up as you spoke.

“Yeah? Did your friend also say it was okay to use my shower head to play with your pussy?” he asked. His vulgar and more direct words made you whimper, your cunt clenching around nothing as he continued.

“Y-you like it,” you responded, rolling your hips up into the stream of water.

This caught him off gaurd.

“Don’t t-think I haven’t noticed you outside the door whenever I s-shower ngh-“ you whine, wanting your voice to sound more like you were scolding him, but your words came out rushed and needy instead.

“You wanted m-e to do this,” you finished with a whine when the stream hit your clit a little too intensely.

“Fuck,” he laughed, reaching his hand into his pants once more to pull out his cock and stroke himself properly, “Why didn’t you say anything huh?” he asked.

“Didnt w-wanna ruin your fantasy, p-pervert.” you responded, the name making his cock twitch. “Oh I’m the pervert?” he responded, “Who was the one letting me listen to her shower? the one using my shower head to make herself cum?”

“L-listen to yourself, your just a nasty v-voyeur,” you wined, moans freely falling from your lips now at how worked up this conversation was getting you.

He felt his balls clench at your degrading words, cock still in his hand as he stood to his feet, sliding the slower door open in one swift movement and entering the shower, soaking his clothes as he dropped to his knees, gripping your chin in his free hand as he pressed your lips to his.

“Mmm! Mph-“ You whined into his mouth, feeling his arm rapidly move back and forth between you, his heavy breathing giving away his antics.

You kept the shower head on your clit as the two of you made out. He kissed you like he had been wanting to do this for years, bulling his tongue into your mouth and groaning into your cavern, the two of you swallowing each others noises.

“Sugu- Suguru, fuck-“ you moaned his name needing in between kisses, feeling yourself get pushed to the edge for the second time.

He sucked your lip into his mouth before pulling away and gripping your wrist that was controlling the shower head. “Let me fuck you,” he begged against your lips, “Let me fuck you please.” You were astonished at how quickly he was switching gears. He was so dominant just seconds ago and now he was on his knees in front of you, begging you to let him put his dick inside you.

“I’ll make you cum so much harder than this fucking thing please, let me prove it,” he rushed, his hand still jerking quickly over his cock as he sucked his lip into his mouth.

“Okay, okay ye-“ you answer, soul leaving your body when he wrapped his arms around you, yanking the both of you to your feet, he pulled you up by the underside of your thighs wrapping your legs around his waist as he pinned you against the shower wall.

You were getting whiplash as how quickly this was progressing, you gasped in anticipation as his hand grabbed ahold of his cock underneath you, you gasped when you felt it rub against your entrance.

“You can’t take it, Look at me, you can take it.” He spoke, pressing his his forehead to yours and making you keep eyes contact with him, distracting you from the sheer size of his cock that looked like it threatened to split you in half.

The two of you stared at each other with bated breathe, waiting for geto to slip his cock into your hole. The two of you gasped in tandem when he slid inside, the slide eased by the water.

“Oh fuck,” The dark haired man rolled his eyes back in his head, “So fucking tight oh my-“ He cut himself off when he bottomed out, gasping against your mouth as you wined at the stretch.

You’ve never taken anything inside you even remotely close to the girth and length of Geto’s massive cock. You were glad you came once before and your walls were more pliant, otherwise you would’ve been actually worried that he might’ve split you in two.

“Holy fuck you’re so big-“ you praised, looking down between the two of you and seeing your cunt fully pressed against his abdomen. “S-should’ve stopped being a fucking pervert and g-grew the balls to come in here and f-fuck me week ago,” you giggled.

Geto had no idea why when you spoke down to him it made his cock twitch, his balls would clench and threaten to spill his seed without even moving. Even before he got inside you when he heard the name leave your lips he had to squeeze the base of his cock to prevent himself from cumming prematurely.

“I know, you’re right,” he agreed, before he started a rough pace with his hips, fucking meanly into your cunt.

You bounced forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your nails into his back as high pitch “ah! ah! ah’s” we’re fucked out of your lungs.

“This perv fucking you better than that shower head?” he asked, smiling into the crook of your neck as his cocky pistoned in and out of your hole, his fat tip fucking straight into your gspot.

“D-ont kno-w” your words came out choppy and high pitched thanks to his rough thrusts. “You don’t know?” He repeated, his lip jutting out in a frown as he bounced your body up and down his cock with ease. “Let’s find out then,” he added.

He gripped the sides of your body, pulling you up off his cock with ease and flipping your body around, so you were back to chest with him, just like in his fantasy.

He slipped his cock back inside you, making you whine, your legs shaking and trembling under your own weight, small hands reaching out to grip onto the shower door handle to keep yourself steady.

Geto reached over and grabbed the shower head, picking it up off the ground from the tube part and pulling it up into his hands, he quickly checked the pressure and temperature against his fingers before he wrapped one large arm against your tummy, pulling you back against his chest.

He maneuvered his other hand in front of you, teasing the spray of the water against your pelvis before he spoke, “Don’t pass out on me.”

Geto placed the stream of water against your clit before resuming his brutal pace inside your pussy once more. If it wasn’t for his strong grip against your stomach, you were sure your legs would’ve given out on you.

“Fffuuuuuck-“ You wined, eyes rolling back in your head at the intense pleasure. “Fuck- You’re so much tighter when your little clit gets some attention-“ he choked, gritting his teeth at the feeling of your pussy walls constricting around his cock.

He tipped his head back, jaw dropping as he tried not to lose his own balance, he understood now why you ended up on the floor.

“Not gonna last with your squeezing me this fucking tight.” he warned, his lips coming down to suckle against your neck as the both of you were spiraling closer and closer to your impending orgasms.

“Fuck it’s you- you shi-t,” you tried to tell him, making him grin against your neck, “You fuck me better ha-aaah!” you wined, your arms leaving the shower door to dig your nails into his arm that was wrapped around your torso.

“Yeah? Am I making you feel good?” He bated, needing to hear you praise him. “So ahhn! So good Sugu! So fucking good, love your cock-“ you got cut off by the first wave of your orgasm, catching you off gaurd suddenly.

“Yeahhh cum all over my fucking cock- good fucking girl-“ your roomate praised, his thrusts becoming sloppy as your walls fought to milk him for all he was worth,

“Gonna make me cum,” he warned, gritting his teeth and rolling his eyes back when you dug your nails into his arms harder than before.

Unbeknownst to him, he was fucking you straight into overstimulation, you had just come in inch from your life and the stream of water was still steadily massaging your clit, and his mushroom tip was absolutely abusing your gspot.

“Su-“ you tried to speak, to tell him to at least move the shower head but he was out of it himself. The man was fucking you with reckless abandon, humping his dick into your tight walls on instinct, moans freely falling from his lips, his heavy balls making loud vulgar slaps against your ass-

He pulled out just before he came, making him drop the shower head and simultaneously releasing his hold on you, making you drop to your knees.

You looked up at him just in time when he came, his large hand caressed your face while his other stroked him through his orgasm, abs and balls clenching alike while warm spurts of cum covered your pretty face.

“Thank you- Thank you-“ He choked out between the waves of his orgasm, his head was tilted back, jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut at the intensity, you and never seen a more beautiful sight.

His legs were visibly shaking, fighting to keep himself standing as his fist squeezed out the remaining drops of his cum onto your face.

When he started to come down his next dropped to look at you, gasping, trying to catch his breath as he looked at the art he created on your beautiful face.

When the fuzziness started to fade out of his head he realized how uncomfortable he was, his slacks and button up shirt was half drenched, sticking to his skin uncomfortably from the water. His big hand came up to rub the back of his neck as he squatted in front of you, before bringing both hands down to your face using his large thumbs to rub his cum into your cheeks.

“I-“ He stopped himself, clearing his throat before leaving a soft peck on your lips, “Legs get you cleaned up,” he smiled, scooping you up and letting you wrap your limbs around him like a koala as he carried your wet bodies out of the shower.

[mrkis]

bad habits. (m.l)

pairing. mark lee x fem!reader genre. smut word count. 6.5k

❝you know you're my favourite.❞

content warnings. explicit content, toxic behaviour from reader and mark, jealousy, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weed, indications of dealer!mark, manhandling, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, mean!mark, spanking, unprotected sex, creampie.

Don’t look at him. 

You mentally tell yourself as you tear your eyes away from Mark who enters the house party with a girl at his side, capturing a glimpse in your peripheral vision the way his hand rests at the bottom of her back as he leads her through the crowded room.

Stop looking at him.

You tell yourself again when your gaze inevitably draws back to him, find yourself staring at him from across the room, watching as he greets his friends with boyish handshakes and welcoming pats on the back before he settles down on the couch once they made room for him, the girl following closely behind and smoothly sliding her perfectly manicured hands on his thigh.

Stop.

Your tongue prods at your cheek in annoyance as you watch how close they lean into each other to speak, how his words seem to make her giggle and she tucks her hair behind her ears when he smiles at her, clearly enjoying his obvious flirtatious comments and your grip tightens around the cup you’ve been nursing the entire night, pulling your eyes away from the scene when his gaze finally meets yours.

The relationship you have with Mark is something you have never experienced before, but a relationship you weren’t too keen on letting go of anytime soon. Mark’s a friend; a friend who you sometimes rely on when things go south, a friend who picks you up in his car for late-night takeout runs and smoke weed until the sun rises, and a friend who you actively sleep with just to get rid of that dull ache between your thighs. 

You hate how he knows your body, sometimes even better than you know yourself. You hate how easy it is for him to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, igniting something within you that leaves you breathless and yearning for more. You hate how his touch leaves you desperate, craving for more than just his hands. You hate how his eyes alone can have you on your knees, the heavy weight of his cock resting on your tongue.

You can’t help but think that you have some sort of effect on him too, finding it amusing how easy it was to get him alone with you, to make him drop whatever he was doing just to be in your presence. It does, admittedly, bring you a lot of satisfaction in knowing that you may have some kind of hold over him like he does with you.

Although, there have been a handful of moments where he has ignored or rejected you, much like tonight.

You were the one that had invited him to come to this party when your best friend had first mentioned it.

You were the one that brought it up to him during an intimate encounter in the backseat of his car, asking him to accompany you only to be shut down and told that he wasn’t interested in some lame house party, and instead had something else planned for that night.

Before you even arrived at the party, you saw the Snapchat story posted by the girl who is currently clinging to his side like a leech. The image was blurry, but you could make out her holding two joints, with a caption thanking Mark and promising a fun night, while tagging his username. At first, you figured it was a deal, being aware that Mark sometimes sells his weed on the side for extra cash, but you never expected that the ‘something else’ he had planned would involve bringing her to a party he rejected coming to in the first place.

It honestly made you fucking pissed.

You mentally chastise yourself to get a grip and you scoff, tilting your head back and gulping down the rest of your drink, the alcohol searing your throat and momentarily distracting you from your own fiery emotions. You lower the cup, swiping the back of your hand at the corner of your lips, wiping away any lingering traces of liquid just as your best friend nears you with a drunken flush.

“Hey, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Yunjin exclaims as she flings her arms around your shoulders for a hug, but her embrace falters as she notices the expression on your face. “What’s happened?”

“I’m out,” You say, gesturing towards your empty cup with a tight lipped smile, trying to hold yourself back from admitting—“Oh, and Mark’s here.”

“I thought he said no to coming?” Yunjin’s brows knit together in confusion and she glances over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Mark and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but her expression quickly shifts to one of exasperation as she rolls her eyes and directs her attention back to you. “Are we really surprised? Come on, you know exactly what he’s like!”

“I know.” You hate it.

“He’s always been like this!”

“I know.” You really hate it.

Yunjin takes a moment to stare at you before she sighs, arms crossing over her front, “Yet it still doesn’t change the fact that you’re thinking about him right now.”

She’s got you there. “I know…”

Yunjin firmly places her hands on your cheeks, gripping with enough force to have you stare straight into her eyes, “Forget about him. He’s just some guy you’re sleeping with occasionally, and you know what that means?” You blink in response. “It means you’re single and free to sleep with anyone you want! We’re here to have fun, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do!”

She’s right. Of course she’s right. Her words bring a genuine smile to your face and you nod in agreement, determined to not let something so silly ruin your night. 

Yunjin wastes no time when she leaves, quickly returning back to you with fresh drinks and tapping her cup against yours with a mischievous grin. You both take a few hearty sips, allowing the alcohol to course through your veins and lighten your mood, head buzzing as she slips her fingers through yours to tug you away from your current position.

You mingle with a few of her other friends you’re familiar with, diving deep in conversations, laughing at jokes shared among the group, throwing flirtatious comments here and there when someone shows clear interest in you.

But you weren’t interested in them. 

Not at all.

Not when you can still see Mark in your line of vision, who remains his position on the couch, engrossed in his own conversation with his friends and the girl who has yet to leave his side, seemingly unwilling to leave.

Your jaw locks tight when Mark occasionally meets your gaze, rubbing his palms on his thighs and shifting in his seat, manspreading as he relaxes back against the cushions. Your eyes narrow, fighting the urge to roll them when the girl beside him snuggles in closer, offering a smile that could make anyone swoon, but he’s not even looking at her now.

He’s fully looking at you.

Mark’s head tilts to the side, the corner of his lips lifting into a subtle smile, leaving you with a mix of conflicting emotions that makes your head spin. On one hand, there’s a part of you that wants to wipe that look off of his face, fueled by your annoyance and frustration. But on the other hand, there’s a part of you that can’t help but be drawn to that smile, wanting to bask in the attention and keep his gaze fixed on you and you only.

A bitter taste lingers on the tip of your tongue as Mark’s gaze is taken away from you, watching as he leans his head down to listen attentively to the girl who whispers in his ear, her fingertips resting against his jawline to keep him in close. A forced laugh escapes your lips, the sound tinged with bitterness and your tongue prods at the inside of your cheek.

You rip your attention away from the pair, redirecting your focus to Yunjin who looks at you with a confused expression, clearly bewildered by your sudden laughter and you try to shake off that ugly feeling that has settled within you, offering her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and Yunjin spots that immediately. 

She calls out your name softly, wanting to question your odd behaviour but her words come to a halt when the guy beside you grabs the attention of the group. Was it Dohyun? Dowon? You can’t remember, and frankly you don’t really care enough to remember. But you remain quiet as he speaks, asking if anyone knows where he can purchase weed at the party, if there is anyone who knows who he can buy from as he assures that he has the cash.

Mark. The name flickers in your mind almost instantly and you meet Yunjin’s gaze, watching as she subtly shakes her head at you, knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“I know someone,” You announce and Yunjin’s shoulders sag as she sighs deeply. You ignore her reaction as you extend your hand towards the guy, “Give me the money. I’ll go get it.”

“Are you sure?” He asks in surprise, hesitating for a moment despite already having the bills ready in the palm of his hand. “I don’t mind getting it—”

“It’s fine.” You cut him off abruptly, curling your fingers around the bills to take into your own hands. You turn on your heels, making a beeline directly towards Mark as you slip through the crowd, pushing through the bodies with determination and fire coursing through your veins, fingers grasping the money tighter just as you get closer, eyes locked in on Mark as he watches you near.

As you stand in front of him, your gaze involuntarily shifts to the girl by his side, tongue clicking against your teeth with bitterness tinging your thoughts as you observe her shuffling closer. Her hand is now resting on Mark’s bicep, fingers sinking into the fabric of his hoodie. 

The sight alone stirs a mixture of annoyance, frustration and jealousy in the pit of your stomach and in the moment, you find yourself in an internal struggle to either make some snarky or bitchy comment in hopes to get Mark to understand how pissed off you truly are, or to continue with what you were originally here for.

“Pre-rolls.” Is what you say with a monotone and direct voice, deciding to get straight to the point, extending your hand as you show Mark the money, making your intention clear.

Mark’s eyes briefly lower to the money before returning to meet yours, “For you or for someone else?”

“Does it matter?” You reply back sharply. “Pre-rolled joints, please.”

“For someone else then,” You hear Mark mutter beneath his breath as he digs inside the pocket of his pants to pull out exactly what you needed, but he’s quick to pull it out of reach as you go to snatch it from his grasp. Your frustration grows within you as you glare at him, but he takes no notice of your expression as he asks, “Are you smoking too?”

“Obviously.”

You watch as Mark reaches back into his pocket and your demeanour shifts slightly as he pulls out another batch of pre-rolls, ones you’re all too familiar with as you see the pink coloured skins. He knows you prefer spliffs over joints. You want to continue being annoyed and angry with how he knows you all too well but yet, deep down, your heart can’t help but thump wildly in your chest and a flutter of warmth swirls in the pit of your stomach at the seemingly thoughtful gesture.

You bite down on your tongue, not wanting to let him know how much that simple action affected you so much, “I don’t have enough money for two.”

“You don’t pay for yours anyways.” Mark states matter-of-factly as he takes the money for one pre-roll and hands you the two. It’s true, you think, curling your fingers around the two pre-rolls he has given you. You’ve never paid him when asking for a smoke, he doesn’t let you pay him.

“You giving out freebies?” The girl beside him speaks up for the first time, her tone playful as she decides to jump in on the conversation. She nudges Mark’s shoulder as she teases, “Pink skins too? How come I don’t get that treatment?”

“Because I’m his favourite,” You find yourself replying before your brain could register it, sending her a forced tight lipped smile as she looks up at you in surprise, not expecting you to be the one to respond. But you couldn’t care less. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“I was talking more about the pink skins,” She snips back at you and your tongue prods at your cheek once again, fighting off the urge to laugh as she turns to look at Mark as she smiles. “I like pink.”

“They’re for her.” Mark says as he gestures towards you with a nod of his head. The girl’s face drops, her smile completely fading and a sense of satisfaction washes over you. You offer her a sweet, sickly smile in return before leaving the scene, heading straight back to your group who are patiently waiting for you to come back. 

Yunjin comes to stand beside you as you hand the joint over to Dowon (you managed to overhear his name as you were nearing closer to the group.) and he grins in victory, thanking you with a wet, dramatic smooch to your cheek before lighting it up, taking a drag and passing it around the group.

Yunjin leans her head down, disappointment clear in her tone as she speaks to you in hushed whispers, ridiculing you for suggesting Mark in the first place, but her tone soon shifts to curiosity and wonder, wanting to know what happened between you and Mark, and what you both had spoken about.

You were partially honest with your answer, replying that the only topic of conversation was about the deal and you were able to get exactly what you wanted and more as you showed her your own little gift. She grins, bumping her shoulder to yours proudly before jumping in conversation with the others, taking the joint out of another's hand while you tuck yours away in your purse, saving it for later.

You had enough. 

The irritation you felt becomes unbearable, unable to be masked by the alcohol coursing through your veins.

The sight of Mark and the girl still in the same position on the couch; sitting close, sharing whispers and smiles. It gnaws at you despite your failed attempts to bury them with distractions, dancing with others, kissing others with lingering touches.

You’ve reached your breaking point. 

You wish you were drunk enough to ignore everything and continue on with the night, but unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case. 

You wanted to leave. 

Most importantly, you wanted to leave with him.

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. It would certainly be easier to leave without him or even find someone else to go home with—Yunjin or some random stranger. But honestly, you couldn’t care less about the easy options. You never cared. 

Abandoning your half-empty cup without a second thought, you leave Yunjin behind, not even bothering to fill her in on what you’re about to do. The sound of her questioning fades into the background as you make your way towards the living room area with a determined stride. 

As you approach closer, a sense of tunnel vision takes over; everything else seems to fade into the background too, sounds becoming distant whispers or muted, completely overshadowed by your own thoughts and emotions.

You begin to second guess how this upcoming conversation would go, if Mark would actually leave with you this time if you asked. After all, he said no to coming here with you, so why would he agree to leave with you? 

You internally scowl at yourself for even thinking about something so negatively. 

He’s wrapped around your finger just as much as you’re wrapped around his.

“I’m leaving,” You declare as soon as you stand in front of Mark, not even giving him enough time to react to your sudden appearance. He remains unbothered, his gaze meeting yours as he lifts a soda can to his lips. His eyebrow raises in response and without missing a beat, you continue, “Come home with me.”

The girl sitting beside Mark reacts with utter disbelief, her mouth dropping open as she scoffs at your audacity, eyebrows knitting together at your words but you’re unfazed by her reaction. It doesn’t make you feel bad at all, not as your focus remains on Mark, waiting for his response.

And in that moment, you feel a sense of victory and satisfaction swell in your chest when Mark gives a simple nod of his head and rises from the couch, reaching in his pocket for his car keys as he bids his friends a goodbye.

“Wait!” The girl exclaims as she interrupts, tone filled with desperation and her hand shoots out, gripping Mark’s upper arm tightly, halting his movements. Her eyes shift towards you at first, giving you a harsh look before turning her attention back to Mark, “Are you serious right now? You were my ride here. How am I supposed to get home?”

You hold yourself back, biting down on your tongue to stop yourself from responding, though your annoyance is clearly visible on your face. You keep silent, watching as Mark’s face remains impassive, retrieving his car keys from his pocket.

“That’s not my problem,” He states bluntly, removing her grip from his arm without hesitation, words devoid of any sympathy. “You’ll figure it out.”

The girl’s jaw drops even further, shocked at Mark’s sudden change in attitude and tone. A smug grin finds its way onto your lips, unable to contain that satisfaction bubbling within you and you wave your fingers in her direction as Mark’s arm finds its way around your waist, resting his hand on your hip as he leads you out of the area.

As you’re leaving the building, Yunjin’s disappointed gaze lingers on you, but still mouths for you to be careful and gestures for you to call her when you get home. You nod in acknowledgement, blowing her a kiss before turning away and leaving her behind.

The cold air brushes against your burning skin, but your mind is preoccupied with a whirlwind of angry thoughts and unanswered questions, the scowl is clear on your face. Mark leads the way, guiding you towards his parked car in silence.

It’s deafening and you hate it, intensifying the frustrations that simmer within you. You’re getting angrier.

You climb into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut with enough force it rattles the car. Mark, who seems completely oblivious to your anger or just isn’t taking any notice, takes his place in the driver's seat, and his ongoing silence fuels your irritation even more.

Without sparing you a glance, Mark inserts the key into the ignition and twists it, setting the car’s engine rumbling to life. His attention is on the dashboard as he presses a few buttons to turn on the radio, playing a song you’re all too familiar with but not in the mood to vibe along with like you usually would.

Your frustration grows further when Mark casually drapes one arm around the back of your seat, focussing behind the vehicle as he reverses and then pulls out of the parking space, the car gradually gaining momentum as it merges onto the road. 

Setting back into your seat, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, your gaze alternates between the side of Mark’s face and the road ahead. You’re aware that it would be best to stay quiet and allow yourself to calm down before questioning him, yet the curiosity mixed with annoyance within you refused to be silenced. You bite down on your tongue hard. 

You can’t. 

“Thought you weren’t coming tonight,” You finally speak, unable to hold back your words. The bitterness seeps into your voice as you continue, “I thought you weren’t interested in ‘some lame house party’.”

Mark’s response comes with a nonchalant tone that irks you, “I’m not,” He shrugs his shoulders. “I had things planned, but plans changed.”

“So you decided to come to the party, which I invited you to, with a girl?” You question, unable to hide the tinge of jealousy in your voice.

Mark glances at you briefly, a smirk playing on his lips. His audacity strikes a nerve and you release a dry laugh, your tongue prodding at your cheek in disbelief.

“Sora was one of the people that I was dealing with tonight,” Mark explains, his words casual. “Donghyuck texted me while I was at her house that he was at this party and wanted to buy weed. I told him I’d drop by and give him some.”

Sora. Her name makes your face scrunch up in displeasure. “Right. Then you somehow ended up coming to the party with Sora and stayed for the majority of the night.”

Mark grins, teeth biting down on his bottom lip, “She was actually planning to go to the party after she saw me. But once she found out that I was heading there, she asked if she could ride with me. I drove her, and when I realised Donghyuck wasn’t outside, I was going to leave. Then Sora said she’d help me find him inside, so I went in.”

You mutter under your breath, the words escaping in a frustrated whisper, “Still doesn’t explain why you stayed.”

“I got caught up with friends,” Mark responds simply, his hand reaching over the centre console to rest on top of your thigh, squeezing the flesh beneath his fingers. His touch attempts to sooth you, his voice softening. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” You lie through your teeth. “Just wish you would’ve at least told me you were coming or came up and said hello when you arrived.”

“I’m sorry,” His apology is minimal, but his tone sounds sincere as his thumb draws circles on your skin. ”Like I said, I wasn’t planning on staying.” Mark takes a quick glance over at you, a smirk tugging on his lips. “You’re wearing that dress I like, baby… walking up to you and saying hello wouldn’t be the first thing I’d do.”

You hum at that, twisting in your seat to face him, “And what would you do?”

“The same thing I did the last time I saw you at a party.” 

The low tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine and your thighs squeeze together to relieve that sudden ache in your cunt, vividly remembering that night where he tugged you upstairs and fucked you in someones bathroom, not caring that the mirror rattled against the walls and belongings of all sorts had fallen off the counter, creating a mess on the floor that neither of you bothered to clean up when leaving. 

“I don’t remember,” You lie, giving him a glossy smile. “I think you have to remind me.”

Mark looks out into the open road, “Do you see a bathroom anywhere?”

“Funny,” You roll your eyes, but you lean over to brush your fingers over his crotch. “You can just remind me here—”

“We’re not fucking in my car,” His words make your eyebrows raise in shock, your mouth ajar as you scoff before ripping your hand away. Mark smiles, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “Last time we were in here, you ruined my seats. The shit cost too much to clean, baby.”

You’re bitter as you reply, “You didn’t seem to complain before when you were desperate to make me cum over and over again.”

Mark’s laughter fills the car, his tongue clicking against his teeth as he shakes your head at your bitter attitude. The sound gets on your nerves immensely. You scoff, your arms crossing tightly over your chest, and you direct your gaze out the window, intentionally ignoring him for the rest of the journey.

As the car turns onto your street and your home comes into view, you reach for the seatbelt. Once Mark parks the car outside your house, you swiftly unbuckle and slip out of the car, slamming the passenger door shut with a force that rattles it. The sound of Mark’s laughter only further irritates you.

With your house key in hand, you unlock the door and step inside, feeling Mark’s presence behind you. His warmth brushes against your back, but you refuse to acknowledge it, striding towards your room. Standing in front of your vanity table, you remove your sparkly earrings, your focus solely on the task at hand as you chew your inner cheek with a scowl.

“Don’t tell me you’re ignoring me now,” Mark drawls, his voice reaching your ears. You raise your head to meet his gaze in the mirror’s reflection. He leans against the door frame, a smirk playing on his lips, despite the feigned upset tone in his voice. He continues, “You told me to come home with you, and now you’re giving me this treatment? All because I wouldn’t fuck you in my car? You’re cold, baby.”

You huff quietly, even though you know deep down that Mark’s words hold some truth. You continue to stay quiet, unclasping the necklace from around your neck and placing it back in its designated spot.

Mark’s tongue pokes at his cheek as he continues, “I could’ve just stayed with Sora—”

You immediately bristle, and you whirl around to face him. “You’re not funny.”

Mark’s grin widens, his eyes sparkling. “Got you to finally talk to me, though.”

You let out a forced laugh, your hands planted firmly on your hips as you stare at Mark. “You know what? You can go. I don’t care. Go. Go back to the party and spend the rest of your night with Sora.”

“Hey,” Mark’s response is immediate as he moves towards you, standing right in front of you. His fingers reach up to grasp your jaw, the cool sensation of his rings against your warm skin. He playfully shakes your head, and a part of you wants to push him away, but you remain still, unable to resist him. “Enough, a’ight? You know I’d rather be here with you anyways.”

And you do. Deep down, you know that. But you love pushing his buttons, especially with the thrill it gives you.

Pressing further, you challenge him. “Do I really?”

Mark’s voice hums with confidence. “Of course you do. You know you’re my favourite.”

You blink, “So there are others?”

Mark sucks in a breath, his grip of your jaw tightening as a playful warning. You can’t help but grin, pleased in your ability to get under his skin so easily. “Pain in my ass, I swear.”

A giggle escapes your lips as your arms wrap around his shoulders, and his hand releases your jaw, sliding down to rest at the base of your spine. His fingers put gentle pressure, urging you closer, and you willingly comply as you allow your chest to press against his.

Your fingers curl around the hair at the nape of Mark’s neck, the grin on your lips unyielding as you continue to taunt him. “Pain in your ass, yet you still can’t get enough of me,” You then feign surprise. “Don’t tell me you like me, Mark?”

“Yeah, yeah, you wish.” Mark mutters dismissively, his head dipping down as he crushes his lips against yours in a heated kiss, sending a surge of electricity through your veins. You respond eagerly without a moment of hesitation, matching his fervour, your lips moving in perfect sync.

Mark’s hand glides up from your lower spine to firmly grip the back of your neck, keeping you pressed against him. The sensation of his touch sends shivers down your spine, and you fist the material of his hoodie in your grasp, ensuring that he stays close to you. 

As the kiss deepens, you feel a gentle nip of his teeth on your bottom lip, causing you to gasp at the pinch. Your lips part, giving him an invitation for his tongue to slip inside your mouth. The taste of him, the mingling of your breath, it’s intoxicating to you, and you want more.

The force of his kisses pushing your back against your vanity table, the impact causing a few of your belongings to clatter to the ground. But you pay no mind, your focus is solely on Mark who stands between your parted thighs, his hands sliding beneath the bottom of your dress.

“Lift your hips a lil f’me.” Mark orders you, and you listen. With his fingers that hook under the band of your panties, he pulls them down in one swift movement, discarding the material carelessly to the side before his arm hooks around your back. 

You yelp in surprise as he effortlessly lifts you up from the vanity table, and your legs instinctively wrap around his hips to make sure you don’t fall, but it doesn’t matter when Mark drops you on the bed with a bounce.

Before you can fully register what happened, Mark’s hands curl around your ankle and he tugs you to the edge of the bed, and you watch with parted lips as his hand moves between your thighs to drag his middle finger through your slit.

“You’re fucking soaked…” Mark hums as he lowers himself down, gazing up at you from your parted thighs. A silent gasp leaves your lips as his two fingers sink into your tight, wet heat. “You had so much to say earlier, and now you’re quiet. Feels too good?”

“Just shut up.” You bite back, and a smile breaks out onto Mark’s face, sending you a wink before he leans down and swirls his tongue against your swollen clit, plunging his fingers into your cunt at a steady rhythm. 

Airy moans leave you as you try to watch Mark, but his free hand slowly creeps up your body and pushes down at your chest, making you fall back against the mattress with a huff. You’re reminded of the dress that’s still clinging to your body, making you regret not taking it off sooner, but all of your worries and problems are pushed to the side when you feel Mark’s drape your legs over his shoulders, closing him in.

“Fu—ah,” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your back arches off the bed. You’re unable to use your words, lost in the feeling of Mark sucking at your clit and his fingers curling in your spongy walls, brushing over that spot that has your thighs tightening around his head. 

One hand grips the bedsheets, and your other lands on top of his hair, threading your fingers through the overgrown strands and you tug, eliciting a groan from his chest. You’re grinding your pussy against his face, desperate for more, and he doesn’t seem to mind, allowing you to use him as you please. 

Until your legs soon fall from his shoulders when Mark forces them apart, spreading you out in front of him when he feels your climax approaching, and he leans back as he watches his fingers pump into you. The speed in which his fingers move has your legs closing around his hand, and his tongue clicks against his teeth in a sound of disapproval.

“Keep them open,” Mark warns you, and when you fail to listen, his fingers slow down, causing you to glare at him. “Don’t look at me like that. What did I just say?” Your legs part, and Mark nods his head. “That’s right…” 

He picks up speed, and he drives his fingers inside your cunt, a grin playing on his lips as he keeps his gaze locked on yours, staring down at your face as he leans over you. You gasp when his thumb rubs your clit for stimulation, and you immediately cum.

The squelching sound of your wetness is heard throughout the room along with your wailing, your body shakes and walls contract around his fingers. He’s laughing as he fingers you through your orgasm, watching as your body trembles and your hips rut against his hand.

You cry out in pleasure, your body shaking and your brain fuzzy as Mark fingers you through your high, and laughs as he watches you tremble, your hips rutting against his hand before you slump back, trying to catch your breath.

Mark removes his fingers from your sensitive cunt, and you watch through hazed vision as he sucks them clean. The sight alone is enough to have a surge of energy rush through your veins, and you sit up to pull him into a kiss. Mark groans when your tongue slides into his mouth, and when he kneels in between your thighs, he takes hold of your wrist and guides your hands towards his belt.

You immediately know what he wants you to do, and you comply. You unbuckle his belt hastily through hungry kisses, and make quick work of the button and zipper, tugging the material down to the middle of his thighs along with his boxers.

Usually, you would’ve completely rid him of his clothes and yourself. But on this specific night, you were too desperate to have him to go through with the task, and Mark seems to be feeling the same when he suddenly throws you around. 

You huff as the air is knocked out of your lungs when you’re flipped onto your tummy, and you turn your head to the side, cheek mushed against your pillow as you watch Mark through your lashes. He’s fisting his cock, tip leaky and red, spreading his precum around the base. He taps his cock on your puffy folds and you squirm, an irritated whine leaving your lips to which Mark smirks at.

You grit through your teeth, “Hurry up.”

“Just admiring the view,” Mark cheekily replies, giving you a wink before his cock nudges between your folds. “Breathe.” He instructs you.

You bite back the remark that’s resting on the tip of your tongue, and you inhale deeply, only to let out a drawn out moan when Mark pushes himself inside, the familiarity of him stretching out your cunt making your toes curl and fingers grip the bed sheets.

Once he’s fully seated inside your warmth, buried in you to the hilt, you feel his ringed hands slide up your spine beneath your dress, his blunt fingernails pressing into your skin as he drags his hand back down before gripping your hips, keeping you still as he begins to thrust.

“So wet ‘n tight for me, baby…” Mark grunts, pinching your hips. He lays a firm slap on your ass, “So good f’me. Always so good.”

He repeatedly pumps in and out of you, gradually picking up his speed, and you find yourself moaning with each deep thrust of his hips. You fuck yourself back onto his cock when you feel his grip loosen on you, and your volume increases, mewling at the feeling of Mark’s cock fucking you so deep that it makes your head feels fuzzy.

You pant, “I wan’ more.”

“More?” Mark repeats with a chuckle, and his lips curl into a grin as he watches your ass bounce back on his cock. “I’m already deep inside your guts, what more could you want?”

You give him a dark glare in warning, “Mark—”

“You already cum once too,” Mark tsks, and you feel his hand slip around your waist to slot between your thighs. You shiver when you feel the pads of his ringed fingers brush over your puffy clit, “Fucking greedy, aren’t you? You take, take, take…” 

You gasp as his fingers start rubbing slow circles, and your pussy clamps around his cock. “Ah!”

“Good thing I’ll always give you what you want, right?”

Your mouth hangs open, and your eyebrows knit together from the stimulation of Mark’s cock fucking into you and rubbing your clit, the pleasure building. He’s grunting loudly behind you, his free hand giving harsh taps to your ass and soothing over the sore area.

It surprises you slightly when Mark’s hips slows down for a moment as he bends over you to press a wet smooch to your cheek, but you crane your neck awkwardly to capture his lips in a kiss, only lasting a few moments before he straightens and resumes his pace. 

“Gonna cum for me, sweet thing?” Mark asks when he feels the walls of your cunt flutter around him, knowing all too well. You nod your head quickly, and Mark smiles as he pinches your clit, eliciting a squeal from you. “Wait.”

You gape at him, “Wai—you’re joking?”

He raises an eyebrow, “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“I can’t wait!” You bristle, shaking your head quickly, already feeling the pleasure build up in your tummy.

All Mark does is laugh at you, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he mutters about you always getting what you want, and you go to snap back to defend yourself, but the words fail to come out of your mouth when you feel his cock swell inside of your cunt, and with one harsh thrust of his hips, you’re cumming with a loud cry of his name.

He curses under his breath, trying his best to keep the momentum as he pushes further into your tightening walls, only for his orgasm to hit harshly. He’s hips jerk, his cock pumping you full of cum, and he’s breathing heavily as his hands rub your sides.

You’re sweaty and sticky, immediately regretting not taking off your dress the second he had you against the vanity table earlier. You grunt at the ache in your hips and lower back as Mark pulls his cock out of you, and you slump to the bed with a huff, allowing your body to relax while muttering quiet complaints.  

Mark chuckles at your antics, and he reaches out, pressing his fingers into your lower back to massage you and you grin happily, melting at his touch. 

“Spoilt,” Mark states, and you lift your hand to give him the middle finger in retaliation. Mark grins and continues his ministrations for a few more minutes before he lets you go, causing you to jut your bottom lip out into a pout as you turn to look at him. “Easy, girl. You need to go pee, and then we’re gonna go shower. Get you cleaned up.”

A smirk makes its way onto your face as you tease, “How chivalrous.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He waves dismissively at you, and he stands up from your bed. He offers a hand out to you and you take it, feeling his fingers clasp around yours as he pulls you up, and he wraps a steady arm around your waist as your feet touch the ground. “I still got some weed leftover from the party, I’ll roll when we’re done. Pink skins for the princess, right?”

Feeling smug and confident, you raise your head high. “Right.”

©𝗠𝗥𝗞𝗜𝗦

[rafesapologist]

if you would've been the one ─ rafe cameron (part 2)

summary: rafe gets engaged and you find out

warnings: addiction, dr*g use, angst, mentions of drinking, sad rafe, infidelity (don't cheat guys), sensual moments

author's note: i wasn't sure if i was going to write a part two, but some of you requested one so here you go <3

It has been a month since that fateful encounter with you, since he last held you while you sobbed in the middle of town. The sight of you—broken down, vulnerable, crumbling in his arms—haunts Rafe like a tortured ghost, a specter that clings to him, refusing to be exorcised. It plays on a loop in his mind, a visceral memory he can’t escape no matter how hard he tries. He remembers the way your voice cracked, the way you trembled against him, and the sound of your broken cries feels like a knife twisting in his chest, again and again.

Sofia moved in with him just a few days after that night, boxes stacked in the living room, her laughter filling the house as she unpacked their future together. On the surface, everything looked perfect. Rafe played his part well—smiling, planning the wedding, talking about the life they were going to build. He made everyone believe that his life was finally on track, that he was happy and settled. But the truth was far from the polished facade he showed to the world.

In reality, his nights had become a battleground of regrets. He would lie awake long after Sofia had drifted off to sleep, staring up at the ceiling as the images of your tear-streaked face replayed behind his eyes. The memory of your sobs haunted him, an echo that reverberated in the dark corners of his mind, refusing to be silenced. The sound of your voice—broken, raw, filled with so much hurt—was something he couldn’t shut out, no matter how tightly he closed his eyes.

While Sofia lay beside him, dreaming about their wedding, their future, and all the things he had promised her, Rafe was stuck in a different kind of dream—a waking nightmare. He relived that night over and over, his subconscious torturing him with the choices he’d made, the words he couldn’t take back. He would wake up in a cold sweat, his chest tight, the ghost of your presence lingering in the room. He could almost feel your tears soaking through his shirt again, the phantom weight of your body pressed against his as you cried out every last bit of hurt he’d caused.

It was like being trapped in a loop he couldn’t escape from, a purgatory of his own making. Every smile he gave Sofia, every kiss, felt like a betrayal—to her, to you, and to himself. He was playing the role of a man who had everything figured out, but inside, he was unraveling, piece by piece. Because he knew the truth he couldn’t admit to anyone—not even to himself. He wasn’t haunted by the life he was building with Sofia. He was haunted by the life he’d lost with you. And it was a loss that was slowly eating him alive.

Rafe picked up his old habits like an old, familiar coat—one that he’d hoped to never wear again. In the days and weeks following that night, the weight of his regret and guilt became unbearable, pressing down on him until he could hardly breathe. He tried to push it all away, to bury himself in his plans with Sofia, to drown out the echo of your words in the monotony of his new life. But it didn’t work. He couldn’t escape the sound of your broken voice, the look in your eyes as you told him how much he had destroyed you.

That was the night his sobriety came to a screeching halt.

He remembered sitting on the edge of his bed, Sofia already asleep beside him, her breathing soft and steady. He stared down at his hands, the same hands that had held you, that had pushed you away, that had made all the wrong choices. It was like he could still feel the ghost of your touch, the imprint of your fingers as you shoved him in a fit of anger. His heart felt like it was being ripped apart, and he needed something—anything—to numb the pain.

Rafe knew where to go, who to call. It was frighteningly easy to slip back into old routines, to let the darkness swallow him whole. He took his first line of coke that night, the familiar burn hitting him hard, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he felt relief. The crushing weight of his emotions lifted, replaced by a rush of artificial euphoria. It felt like he had control again, like he could breathe. But it was a lie—a dangerous, seductive lie that he willingly bought into.

The weeks that followed were a blur of late nights and reckless choices. What had started as a desperate attempt to cope quickly spiraled into something darker. His addiction came back with a vengeance, tenfold worse than before. It became a weekly ritual, then every few days, until it was nearly a daily habit. Rafe would disappear for hours, locking himself in the bathroom or sneaking off to the garage, cutting lines on the cold surface of the counter, inhaling deeply as the familiar numbness washed over him.

Sofia was oblivious. She’d look at him with concern sometimes, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the way his hands shook ever so slightly when he thought no one was watching. But Rafe was good at hiding it. He knew how to play the part, how to keep up the facade of the doting fiancé, the man who had everything under control. He’d smile, kiss her on the forehead, tell her everything was fine. And she believed him. Why wouldn’t she? To her, he was still the man who had turned his life around, who was ready to settle down and start fresh.

But in reality, Rafe was spiraling, falling deeper into a pit of his own making. The regret of losing you, the guilt of betraying what he once felt for you, was a constant gnawing at his soul. He’d lie awake at night, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing with all the what ifs that he couldn’t shut off. What if he had fought for you? What if he had chosen you instead? What if he had never let things fall apart?

The only thing he felt like he had control over was the drugs he was putting into his body. It was the one thing that numbed the pain, that quieted the screaming in his head, even if just for a little while. It was the only way he knew how to cope with the reality he had created, a reality where he was haunted by the ghost of you, the woman he still loved, but had pushed away.

And with every line he snorted, he knew he was digging himself deeper into a hole he might never climb out of. But the truth was, he didn’t care. Not anymore. Because in his mind, this was his punishment—his self-inflicted penance for the life he had ruined, not just yours, but his own as well.

The weekend finally arrived, and Topper’s invitation to the Pelican Yacht Club felt like an aid thrown into the raging sea Rafe had been drowning in. Topper had insisted he come out, promising a carefree day of drinks and laughter with old friends—a chance to forget about the chaos that had become his life. Rafe had been hesitant, rightfully so. The yacht club wasn’t just a place anymore; it was a scene of memories, and there was a good chance you’d be there. It was your workplace, after all, and Rafe knew that running into you could rip open wounds that were still fresh and bleeding.

But as he stood there in the mirror, staring at his own reflection, he realized he had nothing left to lose. His spiraling had already reached its peak. He was a man standing at the edge, and avoiding you now felt pointless. The drugs had dulled the pain, numbed him enough to survive each day, but they hadn’t erased the hollow ache in his chest. In his mind, he reasoned that maybe seeing you would bring him the closure he never got—an end to the nightmare he’d been living since that night he held you while you cried.

He agreed to go. He left the house with Sofia behind, her cheerful wave and bright smile not reaching him the way it once might have. She asked him if he’d be home for dinner, her voice laced with hope, as if she sensed the growing distance between them but couldn’t quite put her finger on why. He told her he’d try, planting a kiss on her forehead out of habit more than affection, and walked out the door without looking back.

The drive to the yacht club felt like an eternity. His fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel, the weight of anticipation gnawing at him. He couldn’t tell if he was hoping to see you or praying that you wouldn’t be there. When he arrived, he took a moment to steady himself, taking a deep breath as he stepped out of the car and into the blazing afternoon sun. The humid air clung to his skin, reminding him of countless summer days spent here with his friends, with you. It felt like a different lifetime.

He spotted Topper almost immediately, surrounded by a familiar group of friends, their laughter echoing across the dock. The sight was almost comforting, a sliver of normalcy in the midst of the chaos his life had become. Rafe plastered on a smile and made his way over, clapping Topper on the back as he was handed a drink. He took a long sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol slide down his throat, and for a moment, he felt like he could pretend that everything was okay.

But it was fleeting. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for you almost unconsciously. He told himself he wasn’t looking for you, but his heart knew better. He could feel it racing in his chest, an unsteady rhythm that only worsened when he finally caught sight of you. There you were, behind the bar, moving with a practiced grace, serving drinks and laughing at something a customer said.

You looked good. Too good. It made his stomach twist with a mix of longing and regret. He wasn’t sure what he expected—that you’d be as broken as he was, perhaps. But you looked like you were surviving, like you had picked up the pieces of your shattered heart and put them back together, even if the cracks were still visible beneath the surface.

Rafe felt a lump form in his throat as he watched you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, despite the sinking feeling in his gut. This was it, the moment he had been dreading and anticipating all at once. He had braced himself for what might happen, but seeing you again, looking so effortlessly beautiful and so painfully out of reach, knocked the air right out of his lungs.

He turned back to his friends, forcing himself to join in their conversation, to laugh at Topper’s jokes, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. He could feel the weight of your presence across the bar like a magnetic pull he couldn’t resist. He took another long swig of his drink, hoping the alcohol would calm his nerves, but it only made him feel more on edge.

Rafe knew he had to make a choice—approach you and risk tearing open old wounds, or avoid you and leave things unresolved, the way they’d been left that night in town. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, his hands trembling slightly as he set down his empty glass. He glanced back over at you, his front faltering as he watched you laugh with a customer, the sound of your laughter piercing through the haze of noise around him.

Suddenly, the conversations around Rafe begin to fade, the laughter and chatter of his friends muffled like he’s underwater. He forces a smile, offering a half-hearted chuckle here and there, but his mind is miles away. He keeps sneaking quick glances over his shoulder, looking for you across the bar, though every look is so brief you never notice. It almost pains him, the way you seem oblivious to his presence. But he tells himself it’s busy; you’re too focused on the flow of customers to scan the room. Still, he can’t shake the sting, a dull ache in his chest that grows stronger every time he catches sight of you, the girl he let slip away.

You hadn’t noticed him yet. The thought stings more than he expected it to. How could you be so unaware of the agony ripping him apart from across the room? But he knows it isn't fair to think that. The bar is packed, filled with the usual weekend crowd; your focus is split between orders, conversations, and the rhythm of your job. It's easier this way, he tells himself. If you noticed him, it would complicate things, make the air heavy with unsaid words and unresolved feelings. Yet part of him—a selfish, desperate part—aches for you to look up, to lock eyes with him, even if only for a second. Just to see if he could read something, anything, in your gaze.

Rafe is at war with himself, stuck between the urge to keep his distance and the desperate need to get closer, to say something—anything. His fingers tap nervously against his glass, the buzz of alcohol not strong enough to drown out the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind.

Then one of his friends speaks up, snapping him back to the present. “We’re running low on beer, man. Someone should get another round.”

Without thinking, Rafe jumps in, his voice a little too quick, a little too eager. “I got it,” he blurts out, pushing himself up from his seat. His friends barely notice his sudden enthusiasm, already lost in their own drunken conversations. For them, it’s just Rafe doing a favor. But for him, it’s an excuse, a chance to approach the bar and maybe, just maybe, get a moment alone with you.

He moves through the crowd, weaving between bodies as he makes his way toward the bar. His heart is pounding, adrenaline coursing through his veins as if he’s about to do something reckless. In a way, he is. He hasn’t seen you up close since that night a month ago when he held you in his arms while you broke down in tears, and the memory of it still haunts him. He doesn’t know what he plans to say, or if he’ll even say anything at all. But he has to see you, has to face whatever feelings linger between you.

As he reaches the bar, he spots you right away. You’re busy, turning to grab a bottle from the shelf, your hair falling in loose waves over your shoulder. The sight of you hits him hard, a wave of emotion crashing over him so violently it nearly knocks the breath out of him. It’s like seeing you for the first time all over again, except now there’s an insurmountable distance between you that wasn’t there before.

He wipes his sweaty palms on his khaki shorts, trying to calm himself, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. When you turn around, you don’t notice him at first, focused on passing a drink to a customer. He takes a deep breath, his voice caught in his throat, but he forces the words out anyway.

“Hey, can I get a round of beers?” he asks, his voice barely louder than a whisper, but enough for you to hear.

The moment you look up to meet his gaze, it's as if time itself halts. The crowded, bustling room fades into the background, and for a fleeting heartbeat, it’s just you and him. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, a flicker of recognition passing across your face before you can mask it. It’s a split-second crack in your facade, but you quickly snap yourself back into place. The shock, the pain—it all gets shoved down as you force yourself into a state of icy calm.

You give a curt nod, your expression stone-cold, devoid of any trace of the emotions boiling beneath the surface. You glance away, reaching for a stack of glasses without missing a beat. To anyone else, it would look like he’s just another customer, another face in the sea of people.

“Gotcha,” you reply flatly, your voice monotone and unreadable, like a wall going up between you. You don’t give him the satisfaction of anything more, no warmth, no bitterness—just cold indifference. You’re determined not to let him see how much his presence unsettles you, how the mere sight of him brings back every hurtful word, every sleepless night spent crying over the pieces he left behind.

You focus on the task at hand, pulling a few cold beers from the cooler and lining them up on the counter. The silence that stretches between you is suffocating, thick with all the unspoken words that hang in the air like ghosts. You can feel his eyes on you, searching for something in your expression, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking back.

Rafe swallows hard, the tension settling heavy in his chest. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words die on his tongue. He watches your every move, hoping for a sign—anything—that might tell him you still care, even if it’s just a spark of anger or pain. But you give him nothing.

You slide the beers across the counter toward him, your movements quick and efficient. “Anything else?” you ask, your tone clipped and business-like, as if this moment isn’t ripping you apart from the inside.

Rafe stares at you, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours, searching desperately for something—anything—that might hint at what you’re feeling. But you don’t let him see it. You hold his gaze with a cold, distant expression, one that feels foreign even to you. It’s a stark contrast to the way you looked at him the last time he saw you, broken down and vulnerable. The warmth that once lived in your eyes is gone, replaced by an icy shield you’ve built up to protect yourself.

His mouth opens for a second, and it almost looks like he’s going to say something—something important, something that might change the trajectory of this interaction. But he hesitates, words caught in his throat, and you see the flicker of conflict flash across his face. He bites his tongue, the sentence dying before it ever has a chance to leave his lips.

“Uh—no, that’s all. Thank you,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s awkward, hollow, like he’s a shell of the man you once knew. He picks up the beers off the counter, his hand shaking slightly, and without another word, he turns away from you. He moves quickly, as if he’s trying to escape the weight of the moment, the unbearable silence hanging between you.

You watch him leave, his shoulders tense, his movements almost robotic as he disappears back into the crowd. A part of you wants to call him back, to demand answers, to tell him how much he’s hurt you. But you don’t. You stand there, rooted to the spot, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you remind yourself that he’s no longer your concern. He made his choice.

Rafe returns to his friends, dropping the beers onto the table with a thud that goes unnoticed by the group. They’re too caught up in their drunken laughter, their cheers filling the air as they reach for the drinks, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside him. He forces a smile, pretending to be present, but his mind is miles away.

The brief encounter with you replays in his head on an endless loop, each second of it magnified, dissected, and analyzed like a broken record he can’t turn off. He can’t stop thinking about the look in your eyes—so cold and unfeeling, a far cry from the warmth and love they used to hold. It’s like staring into the face of a stranger, and it makes his chest ache with regret.

He takes a long swig of his beer, hoping the alcohol will numb the gnawing feeling in his gut, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes the hollow sensation grow worse. He questions every part of that brief interaction: Should he have said something different? Should he have apologized again, right then and there? Should he have tried to explain himself, to make you see how much he’s been suffering too?

But it’s too late now. The moment has passed, and he knows he can’t change it. All he’s left with is the echo of your monotone “gotcha” and the way you looked right through him like he was nothing. He clenches his jaw, staring down at the condensation forming on his bottle, the laughter of his friends now just white noise in the background.

Rafe tries to shake it off, telling himself to get over it, to move on like everyone else seems to have. But he can’t. He’s stuck, trapped in his own head, replaying the scene over and over as he mentally beats himself up for everything he did wrong. It feels like a downward spiral he has no control over, a reminder that no matter how hard he tries to pretend everything is fine, the cracks are still there, ready to shatter him completely.

The night drags on, hours passing by in a haze for Rafe as he tries to drown his thoughts in drink after drink. The buzz of alcohol settles over him, a dull hum that makes him feel lighter, even if just for a moment. It’s a temporary escape, a slight escape from the relentless torment of his own mind. By the time his friends decide to call it a night, the Pelican Yacht Club has long since closed its doors.

The group gathers outside, their laughter a little louder, their goodbyes a little sloppier as they make plans to meet up again soon. Rafe stands at the edge of the group, his smile forced as he nods along, contributing half-heartedly to their final jokes. He feels distant, like he’s watching the scene play out from somewhere far away. One by one, his friends leave, until he’s the last one lingering in the parking lot, alone.

He sways slightly, fumbling in his pocket as he searches for his car keys. His coordination is off, the alcohol making his movements clumsy. He curses under his breath, frustration bubbling up as he struggles to pull the keys free from the tight fabric of his jeans. His head feels foggy, and the dull ache of regret pounds against his temples, as if the night is mocking him.

Just as he finally pulls the keys from his pocket, the sound of the front door creaking open behind him makes him freeze. The noise cuts through the silence, startling him. He turns around, his heart sinking when he sees you standing there.

You step out into the faint glow of the parking lot lights, your expression unreadable as you lock up for the night. The sight of you is enough to sober him up slightly, his buzz fading into a sharp pang of anxiety and longing. He hadn’t expected to see you again, not tonight, and certainly not like this. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, his mind racing with what he could possibly say after everything.

You don’t notice him at first, too focused on locking up, the familiar clicks of the door securing in place as you twist the key. It’s been a long night, and you’re eager to get home, to escape the remnants of the day’s chaos. But when you turn around, ready to leave, you see him standing there, swaying slightly under the lights of the parking lot. Rafe’s figure is slouched, his face half-shadowed, and even from a distance, you can tell he’s had too much to drink.

You sigh quietly to yourself, feeling a wave of irritation wash over you. You cross your arms defensively, a barrier between the two of you, as if it might protect you from the emotions he still stirs up inside you. “Rafe, what are you doing?” you ask, your tone edged with annoyance and judgment. It’s a reflex, your way of keeping him at arm’s length, of pretending that the sight of him doesn’t affect you as much as it does.

Rafe stares at you for a moment, looking caught off guard. He struggles to find his words, his brain muddled from the alcohol. “I was just—uh, leaving,” he mumbles, the words tumbling out clumsily. He mentally curses himself, hating how weak he sounds, how pathetic he must look to you right now. He’s Rafe Cameron—he’s supposed to have it all together, but here he is, fumbling in front of you like a lost kid.

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Well, we’re closed, so...” you say, your voice trailing off in a dismissive tone. You don’t finish the sentence, but the implication is clear: there’s nothing left for him here. Not tonight, and maybe not ever.

Your expression remains stone-cold, void of any emotion, and it sends a sharp pang through Rafe’s chest. He’s used to seeing fire in your eyes, whether it was anger, passion, or even sadness. But this cold indifference—it’s like a knife twisting in his gut. It’s as if you’ve already made up your mind about him, as if he’s just another inconvenience at the end of your shift.

Rafe stands frozen for a moment, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him, suffocating him with each passing second. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to undo the damage he’s done, but his mind races, desperate for something to break the silence. Your cold indifference cuts through him like a blade, and for a moment, he feels as if he’s drowning in his own regret.

You turn your heel to walk to your car, the sound of your footsteps sharp against the quiet night, but Rafe’s voice halts you abruptly. “Y/n, wait,” he calls out, his tone more urgent than he intended, the alcohol slurring his words slightly.

You pause, but don’t turn around immediately, your body stiff with tension. You can feel the heaviness of his gaze on you. You knew he was going to say something, but you didn’t know what. Did he even have the right to speak to you? After everything?

Rafe takes a tentative step forward, his voice quieter now, but no less filled with a kind of desperation. “Please,” he adds, almost pleading. "I... I just need to say something." His hand twitches at his side, as if he wants to reach out, but he doesn’t, knowing it’s the last thing you probably want from him.

You hesitate, your fingers brushing the handle of your car door, torn between the need to escape and the need to understand. Rafe’s presence pulls at something deep inside you, but it’s a complicated knot of emotions you can’t untangle in a moment. You glance between him and your car, the battle in your chest raging, before your shoulders slump in defeat. You can’t leave him like this—not without hearing him out.

With a sharp exhale, you turn, looking at him once more. He’s waiting, as if he didn’t quite believe you’d stay, his posture stiff with tension. His eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long while, you allow him that moment to speak. You give him an inch, but that’s all you’re willing to give.

Rafe’s breath shakes as he lets out a small sigh of relief, as though your decision to stay has momentarily lifted a weight from his chest. He shifts his weight nervously, not sure if he’s even saying the right things, but it doesn’t matter now. The words come tumbling out, almost too quickly. “I can’t... leave things where they were when we last talked,” he admits, his voice wavering with something close to regret and need.

You stare at him, confused, eyebrows furrowing as you process what he’s saying. The statement doesn’t sit right with you. You’ve been through so much, and now, after everything, he’s just showing up like this? The anger and the hurt bubble back up, and you feel your guard rise even higher. "What’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, your voice laced with uncertainty and a hint of frustration. His words don’t add up. After everything he’s put you through, after how he left, now he’s trying to make things right? It doesn’t make sense.

Rafe’s gaze flits around the parking lot, his fingers tugging at his hair as if trying to find something solid to hold onto in this conversation. His thoughts are racing, but the words come out in fragments, stammering as though he doesn’t even believe what he’s trying to say. “I—I don’t think we should leave off this way, you know? Maybe we just need... some closure?” He glances at you briefly, but quickly looks away, the uncertainty in his voice giving the whole thing a shaky feel.

You stand there, arms still crossed tightly over your chest, your posture defensive as you process his words. You stare at him, a bitter chuckle escaping your lips, shaking your head in disbelief. “Closure?” you repeat, scoffing slightly, as if the very idea of it is laughable. Your voice hardens as the frustration and anger come rushing back, thickening your tone. “I don’t need any closure from you, Rafe. It’s pretty damn clear what your decision is here. You’re getting married. What else is there to say?”

Rafe’s face pales at your words, and for a moment, he looks almost defeated. The sting of your anger hits him harder than anything he could have prepared for. He expected you to be upset, angry—hell, maybe even hurt—but this... this is different. The bitterness in your voice, the coldness in your eyes, it cuts deeper than anything he’s felt before.

"I know, I know but—" he mutters, his frustration bleeding through as he paces, running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to gather his thoughts. "I can’t stand the thought of you hating me for the rest of your life because of this." The words fall from his lips full of desperation, his voice strained as he looks back at you, trying to convey something—anything—that could undo the damage.

His gaze locks with yours, searching for any hint of vulnerability, any crack in the wall you’ve built between the two of you. And for a brief, fleeting moment, he swears he sees something in your eyes—hurt, maybe even a glimmer of sympathy—but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. In its place, that same stone-cold, unreadable look that he’s grown all too familiar with tonight.

Your expression hardens again, and when you speak, your voice is quieter, but just as resolute. "Why are you doing this? I’m trying to move on, Rafe. I don’t have anything left to say to you anymore that’s gonna change what happens." You take a deep breath, your body tense as you prepare to put an end to this conversation. "So go back home to your fiancée and leave me alone."

His heart clenches painfully at the finality of your words. The way you speak—so detached, so sure of yourself—it makes everything feel so much worse. He thought there might be a chance, even the smallest one, for him to explain himself, to somehow make things right, but with each word you say, that possibility slips further and further away.

“Y/n,” he says softly, and it feels like a plea, like he’s begging for something you can’t give. His eyes meet yours, desperation and regret clouding his expression. “I made a mistake. You were right, I didn’t try hard enough. I was so used to everyone in my life leaving me that I pushed you away before I thought you could do it to me.” His voice cracks slightly on the last part, and he takes a step closer, but you don’t flinch. You stay still, frozen by his words. “I can’t change that, but I need you to know that this is ruining me. I spend every damn day and night replaying what you said to me in my head,” he continues, his fingers tapping frantically at his temple, as if the memory of your hurtful words is a physical wound he can’t escape. “I can’t let you go, y/n.”

The air between you thickens, the words hanging heavily in the silence that follows. Your heart wrenches at the rawness in his voice, but there’s still so much anger, so much betrayal coiled inside you that you refuse to let it go. You were right. You knew, deep down, that the Rafe you loved—who you thought was yours—was gone, replaced by someone who could never give you what you needed.

"Stop," you finally say, your voice low, trembling with everything you've been holding inside. "Stop pretending like this is about me. It’s about you, Rafe. Always has been. You don’t get to come here, to pull me back into your mess, just because you feel guilty. You don’t get to destroy me and expect me to just pick up the pieces and put you back together."

You take a step back, the space between you growing, but your chest tightens. His words echo in your mind, but you can't let them have the power they once did. Not anymore.

“Y/n, please, don’t do this,” he begs, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and pain as he gazes up at you. Then, before you can even process it, he falls to his knees in front of you. The motion is sudden, startling, and leaves you frozen, speechless. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, as if he can somehow erase the past with his touch, his brokenness seeping into you like a virus you’ve already fought too long to get rid of.

“I need you,” he mumbles against your stomach, and you can hear the tears in his voice. The man who used to be your world is now kneeling before you, broken, crying, and pleading in a way you never thought you'd see. It's almost too much, the weight of it crushing your chest, but you fight it. You fight it hard, as though giving in would undo everything you’ve worked so hard to build.

You try to push him away, but your hands falter, shaking as they hover over him. You don’t want to give in. You don’t want to let him pull you back into his chaos. Not after everything.

“Rafe... please, just stop,” you say, but even to your own ears, your voice is weak, trembling with the same sorrow you’ve been trying so hard to bury. You don’t know whether you’re trying to convince him or yourself. Your chest tightens with every second he holds onto you, every second he doesn’t let go.

He doesn’t stop. His grip on you only tightens as he looks up at you, his face streaked with tears, eyes full of raw, untamed emotion.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he chokes out. “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve let you go. I never should’ve pushed you away. I—” His voice cracks, and he buries his face in your stomach, unable to finish the sentence. The sound of his sobs against your skin is almost too much to bear. It stirs something in you, something painful, something you thought you’d buried so deep that it couldn’t hurt anymore. But it does.

You shake your head, fighting against the part of you that still wants to be there for him, that still wants to believe in the words he’s saying.

“I can’t look at you the same, Rafe,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the strain of holding back tears. You tense up, every muscle in your body recoiling from the touch that once brought you comfort but now only fills you with a deep, searing pain. Your face twists into an expression of disgust, your lip trembling as you continue. “I can’t look at you knowing you’ve proposed to somebody else. I don’t think I could ever forget that.”

Your words are laced with a solemn, heartbreaking truth that makes Rafe’s breath hitch. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out. He looks utterly broken, his eyes searching yours desperately for any sign that you don’t mean it. But he finds none.

“That’s not something somebody can just get over,” you add, your voice barely above a whisper, yet it echoes in his ears like a shout.

Rafe’s eyes well up with fresh tears. He drops his head, resting his forehead against your stomach as he chokes out a shaky breath. “I know,” he whispers, his voice filled with raw anguish. “I know I’ve ruined everything. But I still love you, y/n. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

You swallow hard, squeezing your eyes shut as if that could block out the pain of his words. “That doesn’t change anything,” you murmur, your hands still hovering over him, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. “You made your choice, Rafe. And it wasn’t me.”

He flinches as if you’ve slapped him, his arms falling limply to his sides. The realization that he can’t undo what he’s done, that he’s lost you for good, washes over him, leaving him hollow. He looks up at you one last time, his expression a mixture of desperation and helplessness.

Once Rafe stands up, there’s a brief silence as he stares into your teary eyes. He swallows the lump in his throat as he takes in your appearance — even after a busy day, you still look beautiful and flawless. It’s one of the things he always admired about you, how you could be under a whirlwind of stress and still somehow look perfect. But as he gazes at you now, his eyes fill with dread and desperation.

“Listen to me, y/n, please just listen to me,” he pleads, his voice breaking as he points to his chest. You stay silent but don’t move, your eyes peering up at him with a painfully broken look that he wishes he could erase. “I fucked up, okay? I fucked up. It shouldn’t have taken me so long to realize it, but I did, and I’m so, so sorry.” His lip trembles, his eyes filled with tears and sorrow.

You stand there, unmoving, as his words spill out with raw emotion, almost tripping over themselves in his haste to get them out. The sight of Rafe, usually so composed, now crumbling in front of you is enough to make your heart ache. You clench your jaw, trying to keep your composure, but you can feel your front wavering.

Rafe’s eyes are red and glossy, his lips trembling as he desperately tries to explain himself. He points to his chest, almost as if he’s trying to pull the words directly from his heart, like they’ve been buried deep inside him for too long.

“I still love you,” he whispers, the words trembling on his lips like they’re too fragile to say out loud. “This entire time, I never stopped. I just thought I was doing what was right by letting you go. I thought I was saving you from… from me. I couldn’t ruin your life anymore.”

You inhale sharply, the air catching in your throat as his words hang in the space between you like a heavy fog. You want to be angry, to lash out, but instead, all you feel is a deep, consuming sadness. It’s like everything you’ve held back, every ounce of pain and longing, is suddenly sitting right there on the surface, impossible to hide.

Your voice is soft, almost trembling as you speak. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Rafe. You don’t get to choose when you love me and when you let me go.”

Rafe’s face crumples at your words, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I know,” he chokes out, his voice barely a whisper. “I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you. I was so scared of losing you that I ended up pushing you away. And now… now I’ve lost you anyway.”

There’s a silence that follows, heavy and suffocating, as if the weight of everything left unsaid is pressing down on your chest. You blink back the tears that have gathered in your eyes, finally allowing one to slip down your cheek.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for this,” you admit, your voice strained and filled with a pain that’s almost unbearable to hear.

Rafe steps forward as if to reach for you, but he stops himself, his hand falling back to his side. “I don’t expect you to,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I just needed you to know… I needed you to hear it from me. I never stopped loving you, and I never will.”

You close your eyes, letting the tears fall freely as his words wash over you. It feels like every emotion you’ve tried to bury is clawing its way back up to the surface, tearing you apart from the inside. You want to shut him out, to run away and pretend this conversation never happened, but you can’t. Not now. Not after everything he’s said.

With a shaky hand, you wipe the tears from your cheeks, sniffling as you let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “So what now, huh?” you ask, your voice strained with raw emotion. “You love me, but in a few weeks, you’ll be off marrying someone else?”

Your expression twists with anger and heartbreak, the frustration building up like an unbearable pressure in your chest. It’s like everything you’ve held back for so long is finally breaking free, and you can’t stop it anymore. You look at him with a fury born out of pain, your eyes ablaze with a mix of betrayal and sorrow.

Rafe flinches at your words, his face crumpling as if you’ve physically struck him. He shakes his head frantically, trying to find something — anything — to say that will make this right. But the truth is, he doesn’t have an answer. He’s caught in his own web of mistakes, and he knows it.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he whispers, almost to himself, as if he’s trying to convince himself that his actions were justified. But even he knows it’s a lie. He looks up at you, his eyes pleading for some kind of forgiveness, some kind of understanding. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?” you cry out, your voice breaking. “Why did you do this to me? Why did you let me believe that you didn’t care when you knew how much I loved you?”

The silence that follows is deafening, filled with all the things that neither of you can say. You’re both standing there, barely holding it together. Rafe takes a step towards you, his hand reaching out as if he wants to touch you, to comfort you. But you take a step back, shaking your head.

“No — don’t touch me!” you shout, stumbling back as Rafe reaches out for you. You throw your hand in the air, creating a barrier between you. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Your voice cracks, filled with a raw pain that you’ve been holding in for far too long.

The words escape your lips like a scream, your sobs growing louder as the reality of everything crashes over you like a wave, threatening to pull you under. It’s as if the dam you’ve kept up for so long has finally broken, and there’s no stopping the flood of emotions now.

Rafe’s hand drops to his side, his face pale and stricken as he watches you fall apart in front of him. He wants to say something, anything, to take back what he’s done, but the words seem to be caught in his throat, strangled by his own guilt.

“You ruined me, Rafe!” you cry out, your voice laced with a bitterness that makes him flinch. “You fucking ruined me!” You point to your chest, stabbing your finger against your sternum as if you’re trying to drill the pain into him, to make him feel even an ounce of what you’re feeling.

“And now you get to live your life with someone else,” you continue, your words heavy with despair, “and I’m still here, trying to get over you.” Your voice breaks on the last word, your face contorted in anguish as tears stream down your cheeks.

You look at him, your eyes filled with a mix of heartbreak and fury. It’s almost unbearable, the way he looks at you — like he’s seeing you for the first time, truly understanding the depth of the pain he’s caused. His lips part as if to say something, but no sound comes out. He stands there, helpless and broken, as he realizes the full weight of what he’s done to you.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you continue, your voice trembling. “To be replaced? To watch you make a future with someone else while I'm still stuck in the past?”

Rafe’s eyes fill with tears, his chest heaving as the weight of his own guilt crashes down on him. He shakes his head, and when he finally speaks, his voice is barely a whisper, strained with intense emotion. “I see what this has done to you, y/n," he says, his words trembling with sincerity. "And I can’t tell you how sorry I am for hurting you like this. But this —” he gestures between the two of you, his hand trembling as he struggles to find the right words, “— this is hurting me too.”

His eyes are pleading, desperate for you to understand. “You don’t get what I’m saying, y/n. There is no future without you. I can’t even fucking look at Sofia without subconsciously comparing her to you. I can’t even imagine a life where you’re not there.”

You flinch at his confession, feeling your chest tighten as his words sink in. It feels like a gut punch, hearing him say out loud what you’ve feared deep down — that he still loves you, that he’s been pretending all along. You clench your fists, trying to steel yourself against the burning emotions his words bring up. It hurts too much to even look at him right now, the man who was once your everything, standing there and admitting he still wants you despite everything.

“You’re engaged, Rafe,” you choke out, as if reminding him — or maybe reminding yourself. “You’re about to marry her, start a new life with her. How can you say that to me?”

Rafe shakes his head frantically, wiping the tears from his cheeks as if trying to scrub away his own shame. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice breaking. “I don’t fucking know how I got here. I thought I was doing what was right, I thought I was moving on. But the entire time I’ve been fooling myself. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

You stare at him, stunned into silence. The sincerity in his eyes, the way his voice cracks when he says your name — it’s too much. It’s everything you’ve wanted to hear, but it’s also everything you’ve feared because it complicates the pain you’ve worked so hard to bury.

“I can’t stand this,” he continues, taking a step closer. He looks at you with an anguish that you’ve never seen from him before, like he’s on the verge of completely unraveling. “I can’t stand the thought of spending my life with someone else when every part of me still loves you. I don’t want a future where I’m constantly wishing it was you beside me instead.”

“Then why?” you finally whisper, your voice breaking as you look at him through your tears. “Why didn’t you fight for us? Why didn’t you choose me?”

Rafe’s face crumples, a sob escaping his lips as he takes another step forward. “Because I was scared, Y/N. I was scared that I’d destroy you, that I’d ruin your life the way I’ve ruined everything else. I thought you deserved better, someone who wouldn’t drag you down with their bullshit. I thought letting you go was what you needed.”

Your lips tremble, your eyes glued to the ground as you stand there before him, openly weeping. The sobs come out in shuddering gasps, and it’s painfully clear that you’re waging a war with yourself, torn between the pull of your heart and the reality staring you in the face.

“This is wrong...” you choke out, shaking your head as you look down at the pavement. “This entire thing is so fucked up now, Rafe.” You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but your voice cracks with the weight of your words. “I can’t tell you I want to be with you knowing you have a fiancée. I’m not that type of person.”

Rafe looks at you, completely shattered. The realization of how deeply he’s hurt you, and how badly he’s messed everything up, is etched across his face. He steps closer, his hands reaching out, but he stops himself just inches away, as if he’s afraid that touching you would make it even worse.

“You don’t think I know that?” he whispers, his voice filled with a vulnerable, desperate plea. “You don’t think I’ve been tearing myself apart over this? I know what I did. I know I put you in this impossible position. But God, y/n, I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

It’s as if the sincerity in Rafe’s voice drags you into a tidal wave of emotions you can’t control. Your sobs grow harder, louder, as you struggle against the rising tide of everything you’ve kept bottled up inside. You wipe your tears with the back of your trembling hand, trying to steady your breath. It takes every ounce of strength you have left to lift your eyes and look at him, your voice barely a whisper, choked with disbelief.

"So what do you suggest, Rafe?" you manage to get out, your words laced with pain and anger. "Because I’m not a homewrecker, and I’m sure as hell not gonna start now." You say it with a force that surprises even you, as if you need to convince yourself just as much as him.

Rafe’s eyes widen, filling with a desperate, almost frantic light. He steps closer, his hands reaching out as if to touch you, but he hesitates, letting them fall back to his sides. He’s trembling, his chest heaving as he struggles to get the words out. "I’ll... I’ll break things off with her," he stammers, his voice raw and pleading. "I’ll tell her I don’t want this anymore. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it."

He looks at you with an earnestness that you haven’t seen in years, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He’s practically begging, his voice breaking as he continues, "Please, just... just let me make this right. Let me fix this."

You stand there, stunned into silence. The weight of his words, the sheer gravity of his promise, leaves you breathless. You search his face, trying to find any hint of doubt or hesitation, but all you see is desperation. He’s standing there, laying his heart bare before you, offering you everything he has left.

And yet, the fear and doubt in your chest tighten like a vice. It’s everything you ever wanted to hear from him, and yet it feels like it’s coming too late. "You’d break off your engagement?" you whisper, almost disbelieving, as if you need him to say it again for you to believe it.

"Yes," Rafe breathes out without hesitation, his voice cracking. "I would. I’ll do it right now if that’s what it takes. I’ll call her, I’ll tell her everything. Just—just don’t walk away from me. Not again."

You stand there, frozen in shock and grief. He’s offering to leave everything behind—his fiancée, his life as he knows it—all for you. It’s everything you once dreamed of hearing from him, but now it feels like a hollow promise, a desperate plea that leaves you at odds with yourself. Your heart pounds in your chest, torn between the memories of the boy you first loved and the stranger standing before you now, a man who’s broken you more than anyone ever has.

You swallow hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you look at him, searching his face for any sign of the boy you once knew. "How do I know you won't do the same to me, Rafe?" you ask, your eyes filled with both heartbreak and accusation. "How do I know that you won't change your mind in a few months, or decide again that I'm not worth the fight? How do I trust you after everything you've put me through?"

Rafe's voice shakes, his eyes searching yours, desperate for any sign of understanding. "You’re my first love," he repeats, softer this time, as if the words themselves carry a burden he’s never let go of. His gaze is intense, filled with intense emotion that seems to pierce straight through you.

"I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. And I know I messed up, I know I hurt you—more than I ever should have. But you’re the one I keep coming back to, no matter what, no matter how hard I try to move on." He swallows hard, his voice cracking slightly. "I’ve been trying to tell myself that I could be happy with Sofia, that I could settle for what I have now, but I can’t. Not when I keep thinking about you. About us."

His hands twitch at his sides, a barely contained energy as he steps closer, but not enough to invade your space. He seems to respect the distance you’ve created, but you can feel the pull of his presence, the desperation in his every word.

"I made a mistake, y/n," he says, his voice breaking as if the weight of the confession is physically painful. "And I know that doesn’t change anything. But what I feel for you—it’s not something I can just walk away from. I can’t forget about you. I don’t want to forget about you."

You’re silent, your thoughts a tangled mess, but the truth in his words cuts through the chaos, and you can’t help but feel that old connection flaring inside of you. The love that was once so pure, so certain, but now feels like a distant memory, something impossible to hold onto in this moment.

But Rafe is still standing there, eyes pleading with you, waiting for you to speak. His words hang in the air, heavy. "You’re my first love, y/n. And that means something to me. I can’t just let it go."

The sincerity in his voice cracks your walls just a little more, and for a brief second, you want to believe him. You want to give in and let him in again. But the fear, the pain, the loss—it all rushes back. How could you trust him again after everything he’s done?

But his eyes—those same eyes that once held so much promise—are full of regret, full of a longing that makes your heart ache. And despite everything, despite the doubt that still lingers like a shadow between you, you can’t help but ask, "What are you asking of me, Rafe?"

His lips tremble as he opens his mouth to respond, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’m asking you to give me a chance. A real chance to prove to you that I won’t make the same mistake again. I’m asking you to trust me again, even if it’s just for a little while. To let me show you I’m not the same person who walked away."

You take a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest. It feels like a decision that could change everything—everything you’ve worked for to protect yourself from him, from the hurt. But the sincerity in his eyes, the raw emotion in his voice, it pulls at something inside you. Something you thought was long buried.

"Please, y/n," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, "just give me a chance."

You stand there, frozen for a moment, as Rafe’s words echo in your mind. Your heart is a battlefield, torn between the pain of the past and the ache for what could’ve been. You can’t ignore the emotions swirling inside you—the longing, the betrayal, the love that’s never really gone away.

You stare at him, your expression unreadable, as your eyes flicker between his. You’re caught in a moment of vulnerability, unsure of what to do next. But then, all the years of hurt, the anger, the love you’d buried deep inside you, rush to the surface in one overwhelming wave.

Without thinking, you reach up to him, your hand trembling as you pull his face toward yours. His breath catches as your lips meet in a kiss that’s electric, full of all the things you can’t put into words. At first, it’s tentative, a question in the way you both move, as if unsure if this is real, if this is the right thing to do. But the moment he responds, pulling you closer, you know you’re both lost in this—lost in the feelings that have always been there, buried beneath the hurt and the distance.

Rafe’s hands slide to your back, pressing you against him, and you can feel the heat of his body, the desperation in the way he holds you, like he’s afraid to let go, like you might slip away again. His lips are soft but demanding, as if he’s trying to make up for all the time that’s been lost. Your heart races, and everything around you fades into nothingness. It’s just you and him, just the connection you once had, reigniting in a way that feels both comforting and painful all at once.

For a moment, everything is perfect. All the doubts, all the pain, fade away in the warmth of his touch, in the way his kiss deepens, as if he’s trying to pour everything he’s kept inside into you. But then, a sharp pang of reality stabs at you. This isn’t a fairytale. This isn’t a happy ending yet. Your hands push against his chest, breaking the kiss, and you take a step back, your breath ragged.

Rafe stares at you, his chest heaving, his face flushed with emotion. His hands are still outstretched, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets you go. His lips are swollen, his eyes searching yours for any sign that this is real, that you haven’t just pulled away because of the past.

You pull away from the kiss just long enough to look into his eyes, searching for any sign of doubt, any hint that this might be a fleeting moment, but you find none. There’s only sincerity and longing, as if he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. The realization hits you all at once: this is real, and it’s all he’s ever wanted, too.

Before you can even process the thoughts racing through your mind, you’re pulled back into him. His lips crash against yours once again, but this time, it’s different. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a confession, a promise, a desperate release of everything you both kept inside for so long. The world around you disappears as your hands find their way to his hair, tugging him closer as if you can’t get enough of him.

His hands slide under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, and in a heartbeat, your legs are wrapped around his waist. The cool air outside disappears as the heat between you both intensifies. He presses you against the truck door, his lips still capturing yours, and you can feel the weight of his desire in every movement.

Rafe groans against your lips, his breath ragged, his hands pulling you closer as though he’s afraid you might slip away from him again. He moves with a hunger you’ve never seen before, and yet, it’s familiar, as if every kiss, every touch is a reminder of something you both once had and now desperately crave. You can feel his heart hammering in his chest, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

You pull away, your lips swollen from the intensity, but your foreheads stay pressed together, both of you gasping for air. His hands roam to your back, holding you against him as if he can’t bear the thought of letting go. The vulnerability of the moment is overwhelming, but it’s also freeing. In this moment, you don’t care about the past. You don’t care about the pain, the mistakes, or the fear. All that matters is right here, right now, with him.

"Rafe," you whisper, your voice breaking as you look up at him. “This is… too much, I—”

He cuts you off with another kiss, gentle this time, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “I know. I know. But I can’t help it, y/n. I need you. I’ve always needed you.”

The words hit you harder than anything else, and despite every doubt that lingers, you know this is the real Rafe, the one you fell for all those years ago. He’s here. And he’s not going anywhere.

"I still love you, Rafe. I've never fully stopped."

Rafe’s breath catches in his throat as he hears your words. His entire body goes still for a moment, as if he's trying to process what you've just said. His fingers dig into your back, pulling you even closer as though he's afraid that if he lets go, you’ll disappear.

His eyes search yours, desperate for confirmation, for a sign that you mean it, that you’re not saying it out of guilt or hurt. His heart races in his chest, the same way it always did when you were near. But this time, there’s something different in the way he looks at you—a sense of relief, of finally being seen and understood after everything that’s passed between you both.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I never fucking stopped, y/n.”

His hands cradle your face gently, his thumb brushing away a stray tear you didn’t even realize had fallen. His gaze softens, a mix of regret and longing flooding his expression. “I don’t deserve you, but I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I can be what you need. I can be the man you’ve always wanted me to be.”

You lean into his touch, the weight of the words, of everything that’s been left unsaid, starting to settle in. It’s still chaos, and the reality of everything is still real and messy. But in this moment, you realize that you don’t need to have it all figured out right now. What matters is the connection between you two, the bond that’s never really broken, no matter how far apart you’ve been.

“I just want you to stay,” you say softly, your voice trembling, but steady. “No more running. No more pushing me away. Just stay, Rafe. I need you.”

Rafe’s eyes close for a moment, taking in the full depth of your words, and then he nods. A tear slips down his cheek, but it’s not one of sadness—it’s one of relief, of knowing that maybe, just maybe, this is the second chance he’s been waiting for.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, his voice filled with the certainty that comes with knowing exactly what he wants. “I’ll never leave you again.”

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (04)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 6.4k

Aliyah's Notes: i'll say it again, but specifically this chapter depicts heavy body image and ed descriptions + vomit so i beg of you to skip the beginning if you're uncomfortable with that. besides that, the chapter is cute and full of rafe and reader moments

No, no, no, no, no…

The air in the cramped bathroom felt stifling, its walls pressing close as if they could hear every breath slipping through your lips. Your phone screen glared up at you, the message burning into your mind, twisting your insides. It felt like a rope tightening around your chest, the words somehow dragging you thousands of miles back to a place you fought so hard to escape.

It was just a text. Just words. But your body reacted as if you’ve been thrown into an ice-cold river, your mind spiraling as your heartbeat thumped in your ears, louder and louder, drowning out all your sense of reason. You weren’t supposed to feel this way—not here, not anymore. You fought too hard to let a few words send you back to that place.

The text was simple, it read: "Hey, do you remember me? Just to let you know we're coming to the U.S. in a few weeks."

Your fingers, knuckles white, tightened around the phone as you tried to calm yourself. You had come so far, broken so many boundaries to make it, to have a life that was your own, that you chose. And now? Now your world felt as fragile as glass, your strength chipped away by something as simple as a message.

For years, you pushed that life aside, buried it beneath layers of success and glossy magazine covers, of flashing cameras and compliments that felt like armor. You learned to smile, to keep your chin up, to say what people wanted to hear. Y/N Y/L/N, the golden girl, they’d call you, the one with the perfect life, the charmed career. They didn’t see the cracks beneath, the memories you pushed so far down you could almost believe they’d never existed.

You missed them, sometimes. In quiet moments, when you let yourself think of them, you felt the familiar pang of loss. But you missed them on your own terms, and never to this point—never to the point of feeling that old, oppressive weight. The suffocating sense of having your every move watched, every thought scrutinized and molded into someone else’s idea of perfection. You’d broken free of those chains. Or at least you thought you had.

Your breath hitched as a tear slipped down your cheek, cold against your heated skin. You quickly wiped it away, but another followed, then another, until you were gripping the edge of the sink, trying desperately to hold yourself together. “You’re okay,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely a breath. “You’re fine. Suck it up, come on.”

The words felt hollow, but you forced yourself to repeat them, steadying your breathing as you stared at your reflection. The woman looking back at you wasn’t the helpless girl from your past; she was someone stronger, someone who’d fought for every inch of her success. But as you brushed away the tears, you wondered just how deep those old wounds ran.

Another shaky breath, another splash of cold water. You didn’t have time for this. Not here, not today. There was a shoot waiting, people depending on you to be the flawless professional you always were. You could fall apart later. That would have to be enough.

Drawing yourself up, you checked your reflection one last time, wiping away any trace of emotion from your face. Your fingers still trembled, but you forced them to steady, exhaling one last time before stepping out of the bathroom, your shoulders set with the poise you spent years perfecting.

As you walked back into the studio, the lights blinded you momentarily, the heat from the set lights prickling against your skin. The room buzzed with activity—assistants darting back and forth, stylists fussing over racks of clothing, and the low hum of the photographer’s voice directing the scene. You slipped back into your role, letting the familiar rhythm carry your as you took your place on set.

“Finally,” the photographer muttered, barely looking up from his camera. “We’re on a schedule, Y/N. I don’t have time for dramatics.” His voice was cold, clipped, as though your presence was nothing more than an inconvenience.

You clenched your jaw, brushing off the comment. Just keep your head down, and keep moving. You struck your first pose, forcing yourself to focus on the rhythm of the camera’s clicks. Each flash, each snap, pulled you farther away from your thoughts, grounding you in the present. You knew this world, knew how to inhabit the perfect persona they wanted from you. You could do this.

“Okay, chin down,” the photographer barked, barely glancing up from his lens. “More. More—there, but tighten up your core, Y/N. It’s looking a little… fat.”

The comment hit you like a slap, the faint tremble returning to your hands. You adjusted your pose, forcing yourself to stay calm. You've heard comments like this before. Your body was scrutinized in ways most people couldn’t understand, your curves debated and dissected like they belonged to someone else. You have been trained to brush it off, to smile and push through it with the poise they expected of you.

But today, after everything, the words dug a little deeper.

The photographer snapped another shot, then lowered his camera, looking you up and down with a critical eye. “You’re slipping, Y/N. You used to be skinnier. Are you having those episodes again?” He cocked an eyebrow, his tone dripping with condescension. “If you’re going to stay at the top, you have to stop whatever it is you’re doing that’s triggering you. That means discipline, diet, focus. Do you have that? Or am I wasting my time here?”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, the words stinging sharper than you wanted to admit. You knew you gained a little weight—nothing drastic, nothing worth commenting on, but in your world, even a fraction of a change was enough to invite scrutiny. You forced yourself to hold your pose, to keep the practiced smile on your face, even as your heart pounded in your chest.

“No,” you said quietly, your voice steady but clipped. “You’re not wasting your time—I understand. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” he said, turning his attention back to his camera. “Because the camera doesn’t lie, Y/N. Either shape up, or Chanel will find someone who will.”

The ride home was a blur, the city lights streaking past the window as you sat, rigid, in the back seat of the car. Your stomach twisted painfully, a churning knot of anger, shame, and something that felt dangerously close to despair. Each time you closed your eyes, the photographer’s words replayed like a cruel loop in your mind, mocking you, unraveling every shred of confidence you’d managed to build. You’re slipping… used to be skinner…discipline, diet, focus. His voice echoed with the ghost of memories you’d focus so hard to bury.

You barely noticed when the car finally stopped. As soon as you stepped out, the familiar ache in your chest intensified, the weight of everything pressing down, suffocating. You fumbled with your keys, barely able to keep your hands steady long enough to unlock the door. Once inside, you kicked off your shoes, not even caring where they landed, and stumbled over to the couch. Every nerve in your body screamed, the urge clawing at you with a ferocity that was both frightening and familiar.

You sat there, breathing heavily, your fingers digging into the fabric of the couch as you fought to steady yourself. But the memories kept coming, one after another, tearing at you until it felt like you were drowning in them. You saw yourself, younger, lost, staring into the mirror late at night, desperate to feel in control of something—anything. The hunger, the self-loathing, the endless cycle of guilt and relief—it all rushed back with a force that stole the breath from your lungs.

It would be so easy to give in, a voice whispered in the back of your mind. Just this once. Just for tonight. You could have the relief you craved, the escape from the pressure that felt like it was suffocating you from the inside out.

No, you told yourself, clenching your fists. You’re stronger than this.

But the temptation was too strong, too insistent, and before you even realized what you were doing, you found yourself in the kitchen, stuffing your face with whatever you could find. You just needed to eat, eat, eat, and eat more. You blinked and found yourself in the bathroom, hands braced against the sink as you stared into the mirror, a tear-streaked, desperate face staring back at you. Your chest tightened as the shame washed over you, the familiar ache settling deep in your bones, dragging you down into the darkness you’d spent years trying to escape.

Your fingers brushed your throat, trembling as you fought against the impulse. You didn’t want this, not really. You knew the pain that would follow, the emptiness that would settle in your chest like a lead weight, crushing you from the inside out. But the need for control, the need for release, was stronger than you were.

As if in a trance, you gave in, the guilt and shame numbing your mind as you went through the motions, each step mechanical, devoid of thought. The feeling of release came in a rush, bringing a momentary sense of relief that quickly dissolved into nausea and self-loathing. You sank to the floor, gasping for breath, your entire body trembling as the full weight of what you’d done settled over you.

The bathroom floor was cold against your skin, grounding you in the present even as your mind spiraled, tangled in a haze of guilt and despair. You pressed your forehead to your knees, the tears coming fast and hot, unstoppable. Your chest heaved with silent sobs, each one cutting deeper than the last as you choked on the bitter taste of regret. The walls seemed to close in around you, trapping you in a prison of your own making, a prison you’d vowed to escape but somehow couldn’t.

You thought you were done with this, that you’d left this part of yourself behind. But here you were, broken and hollow, the fragile pieces of your self-control shattered beyond repair. You wanted to scream, to tear at your own skin, to do anything that would make the pain stop, even for just a moment.

“Why am I like this?” you whispered, the words barely audible through your tears. 

When the tears finally slowed, you felt hollow, emptied, the relief you’d hoped for replaced by a numbness that was somehow worse. You pulled yourself up, the motion slow and heavy, as though your limbs were weighed down by the shame you carried. You splashed water on your face, watching as the streaks of mascara and foundation washed away, leaving you bare and exposed, a shadow of the person you pretended to be.

Stumbling back into the living room, you sank onto the couch, the silence of the apartment pressing in around you, thick and suffocating. Your stomach ached, a dull throb that echoed the ache in your chest, a reminder of everything you’d tried to forget. You leaned back, closing your eyes, your fingers still trembling.

The silence was shattered by the faint buzz of your phone, the sound jarring in the quiet. You opened your eyes, feeling a fresh wave of dread as you reached for it, already bracing yourself for more bad news. The screen showed a message from Rafe, sent twenty minutes ago.

Rafe: “Hey. On my way over. Be ready. We’re going out.”

Your heart skipped a beat, panic flaring in your chest as you processed the words. Rafe was coming here. He’d be here any minute, expecting you to be ready, expecting you to be fine. But you were anything but fine. The thought of facing him, of pretending everything was normal, felt like an impossible task.

You wanted to ignore it, to curl up on the couch and let the world fade away. But you knew you couldn’t. He’d see through you, he’d ask questions, and you weren’t ready for that. You weren’t ready for him to see the broken pieces.

Taking a shaky breath, you sat up, wiping the last traces of tears from your face. You couldn’t fall apart now. You’d have to pull yourself together, put on the mask he expected to see. 

But as you stared at the screen, the weight of what you’d done settled over you, a cold, crushing ache that threatened to drown you all over again.

A sharp knock broke the silence, the sound slicing through the thick air of your apartment. You jolted, your heart racing as you looked toward the door.

Fuck! You hadn’t even had time to fully compose yourself. 

Another knock, lighten this time, followed by his familiar voice. “Come on, open up, sweetheart,” Rafe called out, his tone easy, teasing. He was here. Of course he was here. 

Forcing a deep breath, you pushed yourself up from the couch, running your hands through your hair in a last-minute attempt to look put-together. You brushed a hand over your face, trying to erase any trace of what had happened, then ran to close the door of your kitchen to hide the mess of food sprawled everywhere.

The moment you opened the door, Rafe’s eyes locked onto yours, his playful smile faltering as he took you in. The lightness in his gaze shifted, softening with a concern that made your chest tighten. You could feel his eyes sweeping over your face, catching the lingering redness around your eyes, the slight shake in your hands and naked legs, the way you wouldn’t quite meet this gaze.

“You…” he said, stepping forward as his brow furrowed. “You okay?”

You forced a smile, dismissive, brushing it off as though he hadn’t seen what he had. “I’m fine, Cameron. Just a long day, you know,” you replied, your voice steady but rough, your fingers clutching the edge of the door.

He didn’t move, his gaze unwavering as he studied you, his expression laced with worry. “Are you sure?” he asked softly, his voice careful now. “You don’t look fine. Your eyes…”

“I said I’m fine, Rafe!” you snapped, the words sharper than you’d intended, the force of them surprising you both. His brows shot up slightly, but he didn’t move, his gaze locked on yours as though he were searching for something beneath the anger. 

“I’m just asking, but something’s obviously wrong. You don’t have to—”

“Why do you care?” you interrupted, your voice edged with a defensiveness you couldn’t control. “It’s none of your business, alright,” Your hands tightened into fists at your sides, the sting of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you willed them back, pressing down the wave of emotion threatening to rise again. “I told you, I’m fine. Just drop it.”

The silence stretched between you, tense, your words hanging in the air like a challenge. You could see the hurt flash across his face, fleeting but unmistakable, before it softened into something closer to understanding, something that only made you feel more exposed.

“Alright,” he murmured, his tone calm, measured. He took a step back, lifting his hands slightly in surrender, his gaze lingering on you, patient, waiting. “If you say so.”

But you could see it in his eyes—he didn’t believe you, not for a second.

You stepped back, allowing him to come inside. He moved past you slowly, his gaze flicking back to you once before staying put. You headed toward the living room, and he followed you, swallowing the lingering shame in your throat as you focused on steadying your breath.

He paused near the couch, glancing around the room as though searching for a sign of what had shaken you.

“Alright, so… where exactly are we going?” you asked, aiming to keep your tone casual. Your gaze dropped to your hands, hoping to mask the slight tremor of your nerves.

Rafe glanced over, he seemed to take a moment to consider his answer, studying you as though choosing his words carefully. “One of my friends is hosting a little get-together…”

“Topper?” 

“Hell nah!” He quietly laughed, shaking his head. “Not this time. It’s Kelce. He throws these gatherings sometimes—more chill than anything else. It’s just a handful of people, around a dozen or so, max. You think you’ll be okay with that?”

His gaze lingered on you, a mix of playfulness and genuine concern softening his features. You swallowed, nodding as you offered a small shrug. “Yeah, sure. That’s fine. So… just friends? Are there going to be, um… other girls?”

He tilted his head. “Yeah, some. Kiara and Cleo are usually around for these things, and…” he paused, scratching his jaw before continuing, “my sister.”

That made you look up, your curiosity piqued. “You have a sister?”

“Two actually, both younger,” he replied with a faint smile. “But only one’s coming tonight. Sarah. I think she’s around your age. You’ll probably like her. She’s… got a bit of a wild streak.”

You nodded and stayed quiet for a moment, lost in thought, before glancing back at Rafe. “So… I’ll just go get ready—wait! How should I dress up? Is it a casual-casual or a casual-but-nicely-dressed type of gathering?”

Rafe’s lips quirked into a smile, visibly relieved to see you bouncing back to your usual self. “Pretty sure, whatever you wear, you’ll make it look elegant, sweetheart.”

“That’s not helpful—but thanks.” You arched a brow at him, waiting.

"Just something simple," he replied with a shrug, leaning back on the couch. His eyes traveled over you, taking in your outfit—a pair of black shorts paired with an oversized, ripped T-shirt splashed with images of Barbie. Somehow, even in that, you looked hot, and he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger.

“Simple?” You tilted your head thoughtfully. “Like…a dress? Wait, maybe a skirt is better for this. But a dress is more of a party vibe…” you started muttering to yourself, lost in wardrobe decisions. “Should I wear something with prints? Oh, wait—”

“Just wear a skirt, baby,” he cut in smoothly, his gaze softening as he watched you.

That one little word—baby—made your heart flutter and stopped your train of thought cold. You caught his eyes, trying to ignore the sudden swarm of butterflies, and arched a brow at him with a teasing smirk. “Oh, I see what this is. You just want an excuse to look at my ass. Bet you’re hoping for a little peek under my skirt, huh, you perv?”

Rafe’s smirk grew, and he sat up, his blue eyes gleaming with something undeniably mischievous. “I’ll see your ass at some point during this marriage, whether it’s tonight or some other night,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “Got you speechless now, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, pretending his words hadn’t just lit a spark that was still buzzing beneath your skin. “No, actually, I was just thinking of all the ways I could strangle you.”

“Kinky,” he teased, eyes alight with amusement.

You groaned, chuckling despite yourself. “Not like that, you perv.” You waved your hand dismissively, shaking your head. “Enough of this. I’m gonna go get ready.”

Before you turned, he grinned and made a move to get up. “Can I come and watch the show?”

You placed a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down with a laugh. “Absolutely not. Stay here and be patient. I won’t be long.”

Rafe relaxed, settling back with a smirk as he watched you disappear into your bedroom, and you made sure to close the door firmly behind you.

You emerge from the bedroom an hour later, dressed in a strapless leopard-print tube top that clings to your figure just right, paired with a faded denim mini-skirt. For makeup, you opted for a natural look with a subtle glow, focusing on your lips, and you left your curls loose, letting them fall naturally over your shoulders, once again. 

You walked into the hallway, slipping on your black Louboutin stilettos. As you straightened, you didn’t need to look back to know Rafe was right there, his presence a steady hum in the quiet of your apartment. You’d heard his soft footsteps the second you stepped into the hallway.

"You—"

"Watch what you’re about to say, Cameron," you cut him off, throwing a teasing glance over your shoulder, "because if it’s about my ass, I’ll slap you so hard you’ll fly out the window."

His smirk widened. "Now, I wasn’t gonna say anything like that," He let his gaze travel up and down your figure, lingering on the way your fitted mini skirt hugged your curves. "But since you brought it up—yeah, it’s the perfect opportunity to take a peek. Especially with you bent over and all."

You straightened up, narrowing your eyes at him, though a faint smile tugged at your lips. "Rafe."

He raised his hands, palms out. "Alright, alright—my bad." He let his eyes travel over you one more time, this time slower, more appreciative. "But you look nice."

"Just nice?" you teased, tilting your head slightly as you stepped closer, noting the way his eyes darkened as he drank you in.

"No..." His voice dropped, his eyes turning hungry as they lingered on you. "You look hot. Really hot."

You felt a satisfied smile spread across your face. "Perfect. That’s exactly what I was going for."

"Well, you succeeded, sweetheart," he replied, voice thick with an admiration that felt too close for comfort.

You smiled, pushing down the heat rising to your cheeks, and made your way to the door, pulling it open. Rafe followed close behind, stepping into the hallway as you both moved toward the elevator.

"So," you asked as you pressed the elevator button, "do your friends know about the arrangement, or…?"

Rafe shook his head, popping the 'P' as he answered, "Nope. None of them have a clue. Not my teammates, not my sister—nobody. So you’re gonna have to pretend to tolerate me for a few hours. Think you can handle that?"

You tilted your head, your smile turning sly. "Tolerate you? For a few hours? I mean, it’s gonna be a challenge, but I think I can manage.”

“Is that so? Gonna be that hard to put up with me?”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, in fear to hurt your poor feelings but you are extremely annoying and hard to put up with, Rafe Cameron,” you shot back, your eyes sparkling.

“Ouch,” he touched his heart and mocked a pained expression. “You’re hurting your husband’s feelings here, sweetheart.”

“Future husband,” you corrected with a smirk. “And, womp womp!”

The elevator reached the lobby, and the two of you stepped out, making your way toward the exit. Rafe opened the door for you, his hand resting briefly on the small of your back, sending a shiver up your spine.

Outside, his car was waiting, sleek and polished under the streetlights. He held the passenger door open, and you slipped inside, watching as he rounded the front and got in beside you.

The car ride was quieter than you expected. He seemed content, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually near the gearshift. You stole a few glances at him as he drove, catching the glint in his eye as he noticed you looking.

Finally, he spoke up. "You know, if you’re gonna be my girlfriend for the night, you’ll have to act the part."

"What do you mean?"

He smirked, shifting gears smoothly as he turned onto a quieter road. “Maybe try not to glare at me every time I look at you. Oh, and try smiling, or I don’t know, pretend like you don’t find me annoying.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Noted. You have some more notes, Mr. Cameron?"

“I do, actually, future Ms. Cameron,” he said, glancing at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “As my girlfriend, you should probably let me put my arm around, or even hold my hand if we’re getting really freaky.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. “Oh, yeah ‘cause touching your hand will make me nut, right?”

He chuckled, glancing over you, his expression full of amusement. “I mean, that’s usually how most people feel—but more seriously, we need to make this believable. The whole world has to think we’re in love.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "And here I thought this was a marriage of convenience. You know, strictly business. But since we’re giving notes then I think you should show a little more enthusiasm."

He chuckled, shaking his head as he navigated the streets. "Alright, I can do enthusiasm. How about I serenade you while I drive?"

"Oh my God! Please don’t," you laughed, shaking your head. "I’d like to keep my hearing intact."

"Suit yourself." Rafe grinned, glancing at you with a mock-seriousness. "But if I can’t sing, then I have to hold your hand. That’s the rule."

You hesitated, your heart racing at the idea of intertwining his fingers with yours. “Fine…”

He raised his hand triumphantly, a playful smirk plastered across his face. "See? You’re already getting into the spirit of things. Besides, it’s not like our lips haven’t touched—"

“Rafe!” you exclaimed, slapping his chest with a mix of disbelief and embarrassment.

“What? I’m just stating the truth,” he said, feigning innocence as he rubbed his chest, an exaggerated pout forming on his lips. “Come on, don’t get shy on me now, baby.”

“I am not shy,” you retorted, unable to suppress a smile.

“Right, and I’m the bloody king of England,” he shot back with a horrible fake British accent.

“Shut up,” you laughed, the sound echoing softly in the quiet of the car as you shook your head at his antics.

The banter hung in the air between you like a playful thread. You both lapsed into a comfortable silence, the gentle hum of the engine and the occasional rush of wind outside the car providing a soothing backdrop. As the minutes passed, anticipation buzzed in the air, making each second feel charged with excitement.

Finally, you pulled up in front of a large, ornate gate guarded by stern-looking security personnel. Rafe, unable to contain himself, leaned forward and called out his name with exaggerated bravado, “Rafe Cameron!” The gates swung open, revealing a huge house with lights everywhere.

As he parked the car, you took a moment to steady your breathing, inhaling deeply to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach. With a final exhale, you opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement. Before you stood three familiar faces, their expressions a mix of anticipation and curiosity as they waited at the door of the house. 

You glanced at Rafe, who had just stepped out to join you, his presence exuding a quiet confidence that somehow eased your tension. The way he stood beside you, relaxed yet alert, made you feel a little more at ease.

“Am I dreaming, or are there three people waiting for us—and they’re jumping?” you asked, barely able to contain your laughter as you watched the trio bouncing in place, their enthusiasm infectious.

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re not dreaming. The idiots over there are my sister, JJ, and Topper.”

“Oh, I know Topper!” you exclaimed, a spark of excitement igniting in your voice. The prospect of recognizing someone made the moment feel a bit more comfortable.

“Yeah, you do, sweetheart,” Rafe replied, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. His eyes glinted with warmth.

As you approached the animated group, the sounds of their laughter filled the air, creating a vibrant atmosphere that made your heart race with anticipation. Rafe walked beside you.

Topper was the first to spot you, his face lighting up with a broad grin as he waved. “Love birds! Over here!” he shouted, bouncing on his feet, you could tell he was slightly tipsy already.

JJ turned at the sound of his voice, his expression shifting from casual to surprise when he caught sight of you two. “What the fuck? Rafe is here with a girl—isn’t that—”

“That’s Y/N! What the actual fuck, Rafe?” Sarah exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief as she slapped JJ’s chest, the surprise evident in her wide eyes.

As you stepped into view, the weight of their stares sent a wave of nerves crashing over you, and suddenly, the words you’d rehearsed vanished from your mind. It was ridiculous—usually, you were the life of the party, friendly and extroverted. Why were you feeling so overwhelmed now?

“Hi,” you managed to say, cringing at the awkwardness of it. A rush of heat crept up your neck as you mentally kicked yourself for being so inarticulate.

“Hi, pretty girl,” JJ chimed, his grin infectious. “Now that Y/N and her boyfriend have arrived, the party can officially start!” He turned and bolted into the house with an enthusiastic shout, followed closely by Topper, leaving you alone with the Cameron siblings.

Turning your attention back to Sarah, you took a moment to admire her outfit—a stunning black leather dress that hugged her curves perfectly, her makeup expertly applied to accentuate her striking features. She radiated confidence.

“I’ve seen stuff about you two on social media, but I didn’t expect you to actually bring her here—respectfully, of course,” Sarah said, her gaze flicking to you as she finished her sentence and you simply shrugged. “This is a first for you, Rafe,” she continued, raising an eyebrow at her brother.

“I’m serious about her, so get ready to see her everywhere by my side,” Rafe replied casually, but the warmth of his words sent your cheeks aflame. “Are you the only girl here—”

“I love your dress, by the way. I don’t know if I said that already ‘cause I’m pretty tipsy, but I love it. Leopard prints suit you so well! Every time you wear animal prints on the runway, I’m always so in love with how it fits you. Oh, and I heard you’re working with Chanel right now—is that true? You can tell me; I promise I won’t spill. Plus, I’ll probably forget about it by tomorrow anyway—”

Rafe, clearly exasperated, swiftly placed a hand over her mouth. “Don’t say weird shit like that, stalker. You’re creeping my girlfriend out.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, placing a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “No, it’s fine.”

“You sure? Because she really sounded like a fucking creep,” he said, feigning seriousness, but you could see the hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Guess that runs in the family,” you teased, lifting yourself on your tiptoes to lean closer and whisper in Rafe’s ear, the warmth of his body radiating against you. “But thank you, Sarah. I was going to say the same about you and your dress. It fits your body like crazy; I’m honestly jealous.”

“Girl, please. Have you seen yourself?” she scoffed, her confidence shining through.

“I have, but have you seen yourself? You’re stunning, like a goddess.”

“Oh my God—”

“Alright, enough with the glazing,” Rafe interrupted, a mock-seriousness creeping into his tone. Sarah shot him an annoyed glare, which you mirrored, both of you momentarily united in your frustration. “I introduced her to you, but there are other people who don’t know she’s here, so get out of the way, Sarah.”

With that, he gently nudged her aside, his protective demeanor hinting at how much he cared, even amidst the playful banter. You couldn’t help but smile at the way he navigated the room with ease, leading you into the chaos of the party.

The room was awash in vibrant colors, illuminated by twinkling lights strung overhead. A long table was set up against one wall, laden with an enticing spread of snacks and alcoholic drinks that sparkled enticingly under the glow. The atmosphere buzzed with energy; laughter and music melded together in a lively symphony. Groups of people swayed on the dance floor, while others engaged in animated conversations or indulged in the delicious food. Rafe was right—though the crowd wasn’t particularly large, the energy was palpable, and the music was loud enough to make your heart race.

You gently tapped Rafe’s arm to get his attention, and he leaned down slightly to hear you over the din. “We’re not gonna go to each person to introduce myself, are we?” 

“Hell no! Just my close friends—” he started, but his words were cut off as someone unexpectedly leapt into his arms, wrapping their limbs around his neck with abandon. Rafe staggered slightly, instinctively holding the person tight to steady them both. Your brows knitted together in confusion and irritation as you wondered who would be so brazen as to interrupt a conversation. The person had clearly come from the front, meaning they’d seen you two talking moments before.

Fucking prick, you cursed internally at the bold interloper.

When the person turned around, you found yourself face-to-face with a woman who had long, straight brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Her cheerful smile faltered briefly upon noticing you, but it returned almost instantly, though you could sense the shift in her demeanor.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry for coming in like that,” she shouted over the thumping bass, her voice bright and exuberant. “I was just so excited to see Rafey. I couldn’t contain my joy.”

You waved your hands dismissively, plastering on a friendly smile, trying to keep the peace. “It’s totally fine, don’t worry. I get it.”

“I’m Chiara, by the way. Chiara Romano,” she introduced herself, extending a hand for you to shake. You accepted, noting the warmth of her grip.

“That’s a pretty name,” you said sincerely, your tone genuine. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“The supermodel who fled from her country, right?” Chiara asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

You scratched your cheek, a touch of embarrassment creeping in. “Well, not exactly, but yeah… that’s me.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Y/N,” she said with a bright smile before turning her attention back to Rafe, suddenly snatching his arm and tugging at him playfully. “Come with me, Rafey.”

Rafe, who had been uncharacteristically silent during the exchange, finally spoke, his tone firm. “Wait! No, Chiara.”

“Why? It’s gonna be fun—” she retorted, but Rafe’s tone shifted to a more serious note.

“I’m here with Y/N,” he said firmly, the protectiveness in his voice undeniable. Chiara halted her playful tugging, her expression shifting as she turned her full attention to you. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Oh…” she said, her brows raised in surprise as she studied you intently. “Are you two serious, or not?”

You frowned, taken aback by the bluntness of her question. You knew Rafe had a reputation for jumping from one woman to the next, but he had just referred to you as his girlfriend with such conviction. That had to mean something, right? You couldn’t help but wonder what Chiara would have done if you had said no.

“We’re se—” you started, but your voice faltered.

“I want him to say it,” Chiara interrupted, a challenging glint in her eye as she turned to Rafe. “Say that you two are serious, Rafe.”

The air grew thick with anticipation as you awaited his response. The weight of the moment felt significant; this wasn’t just a casual interaction—it was a test of the fragile foundation of your arrangement. Rafe’s eyes darted between you and Chiara, a mix of uncertainty and determination swirling in them. You held your breath, knowing that you needed him to affirm the seriousness of your relationship, even if it was just for show. Rafe couldn’t afford to slip up, not when so much was at stake. You watched him struggle with the words, a silent plea hanging in the air as he held Chiara’s gaze, and you braced yourself for what would come next.

Who the fuck was Chiara Romano to Rafe Cameron?

chapter five

[mariclerc]

Little miracle ♡ | cl16

Summary: You and Charles have been together for years and have always talked about starting a family.

Warning: none, just fluff.

a/n: It's a little long, but I hope you like it as much as I did !!

The afternoon sun streams through the living room window, casting warm light across the plush couch where you lie curled up. A magazine lays forgotten on your chest, your brow furrowed in concentration. You take a deep breath, wincing slightly. The dull ache in your lower abdomen has been there for a few days now, and you can't help but wonder...

With a sigh, you push yourself up and head to the bathroom. You open the cabinet and reach for the lone pregnancy test tucked discreetly in the back corner. It's been there for months but only in case of emergencies, a silent reminder of what could be, a possibility you both discussed but never truly dared to hope for.

Your hands tremble slightly as you follow the instructions, the silence of the apartment amplifying your racing thoughts. What if it's positive? How will Charles react? Excitement? Fear? Uncertainty? The image of his bright smile flashes in your mind, but it's quickly overshadowed by a wave of apprehension. After a couple of minutes the alarm sounds and with great care and trembling hands, you review the test...

Two pink lines: positive. A wave of different emotions takes over you, you are very afraid and at the same time hope that perhaps this has not gone as planned, but it's something incredible, a small miracle growing inside you.

After a couple of hours, the scent of Charles' cologne fills the air as he bursts through the door, his usual infectious energy bouncing off the walls. He throws his bag on a hanger, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you.

“Hey bellissima! How was your day?” He says while having a grin on his face.

You manage a small smile, forcing yourself to appear relaxed. “Good, just relaxing. You seem in a good mood today!”

“Just had a great afternoon with the team, preparing some things in the simulator... So, what's for dinner? You know I'm starving!” He said while chuckling.

You lead him to the kitchen, the aroma of your carefully prepared pasta filling the air. As you set the table, you steal glances at him, his animated chatter a stark contrast to your swirling emotions.

“Hey, is everything okay baby? You seem a bit...different.” He asks as he notices your quietness.

You hesitate, then decide to plant the first seed.

“Actually, there is something I need to tell you. But I think it's better if we wait until after dinner.”

His smile falters slightly, replaced by a furrowed brow.

“Is everything alright? Is it something serious?”

“Don't worry, it's nothing bad. Just...something we need to talk about.” You said while taking his hand.

He squeezes your hand reassuringly, the worry lingering in his eyes. Dinner passes in a blur of polite conversation and stolen glances. With dessert cleared away, you both settle onto the couch, the weight of your unspoken secret hanging heavy in the air.

”Charles, remember that talk we had a few months ago? About...you know...” You take a deep breath.

He nods slowly, his gaze intense and understanding. “Of course darling.”

“Well, there's a chance...a big possibility...that things might have changed.”

His eyes widen, a flicker of hope battling with trepidation.

“You mean...?”

“I took a test. And...it's positive.” You whisper while you show the test to him.

The silence that follows is deafening. You watch Charles' face, searching for any hint of his reaction. His initial surprise gives way to a slow smile, spreading across his features like sunrise.

“Oh my god, baby! Oh my baby...” He said with his voice thick with emotion.

He pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. You can feel his body trembling, his laughter mixed with choked sobs.

“This is incredible! We're going to have a baby!”

Relief washes over you, warm and sweet. The fear that had been gnawing at you melts away, replaced by a surge of joy and anticipation. You cling to him, both of you lost in the wonder of this new chapter.

As you pull back, Charles cups your face, his eyes shining with love and excitement.

“This is the best news ever! I can't wait to be a dad! We're going to be amazing parents!”

You nod, a smile blooming on your face. The future, once uncertain, now stretches before you, filled with promise and the beautiful mess of creating a family together.

As you pull away from the embrace, the weight of reality settles in. While you're both ecstatic about the news, a wave of anxieties washes over you. You take a deep breath and voice your concerns.

“Charles, I'm happy, truly. But...there's a lot to think about. Parenthood is a big change, and I can't help but worry about how it will affect everything.” You say a little shy.

He takes your hand, his gaze warm and understanding. “I know, amore. It's natural to feel nervous. But tell me, what's on your mind?”

“Well, there's my career. Taking time off for the baby, especially with your career in the spotlight, feels daunting.”

“We'll figure it out together, like we always do. You're incredibly talented, and I know you'll find a way to balance motherhood with your dreams.” He squeezes your hand.

He pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours.

“It's not just that, you know? It's the fear of the unknown. Being a parent is a huge responsibility, and I'm scared I won't be good enough.” You sigh.

He leans back, holding you at arm's length, his eyes searching yours.

“Hey, you'll be the most amazing mother. You're kind, compassionate, and have so much love to give. You'll be incredible, just like you are with everything else you do.”

A tear escapes your eye, and he brushes it away with a gentle thumb.

“We'll learn together, step by step. And we'll have each other, always. This is a journey we're going on together, as a team.”

His words soothe your anxieties, but a flicker of worry lingers.

“What about your racing? The media, the pressure, the fans...will this change things?”

He contemplates for a moment, then smiles reassuringly. “It will change things, of course, but not in a bad way. It'll give me something even more to fight for, even more to achieve. I'll be racing for our family, for our future together.”

His confidence reignites your own. You both share a laugh, the nervous tension easing.

“Now darling imagine our little Leclerc cheering me on from the stands!” He said with a smile on his face.

The image brings a joyful warmth to your chest. You lean in, sharing a kiss filled with hope and excitement for the unknown adventure ahead.

****

ynusername

liked by carmenmmundt, f1, kellypiquet and others.

ynusername something's in the way 🫣

tagged charles_leclerc

lilymhe omg!!! Congrats babes 🥹🥹

ynusername 🥹🥹🥹🩷 thank u sm bby

user1 mY PARENTS ARE GOING TO BE PARENTS?!?!#?! OH GOD 🥺😭😭

landonorris so... That explains why you threw up the cookies I sent to you both last week...

ynusername can you get over the cookies did I threw up last week? Thanks ☺️

charles_leclerc lando those cookies were horrible, I even threw up them too. 🤷🏻‍♂️🤷🏻‍♂️

landonorris I didn't need to know that, but thanks for clarifying that my cooking skills suck.

charles_leclerc you are welcome bro 🫂

scuderiaferrari do we already have the future champion on the way? 👀❤️❤️

ynusername yup team!!

user2 oh my goodness, congrats to the best paddock couple 🤍🤍

charles_leclerc I love you my future baby mama 💗

ynusername I love you too papa to be!! 🥺🩷

user3 okay but they are using pink emojis, they defo know something WE DON'T OH GOD

Days turn into weeks, and your apartment becomes a haven of anticipation. You pick out tiny baby clothes, decorate the nursery with love, and lose yourselves in the joy of choosing names. Charles, usually focused on his racing career, surprises you with his attentiveness, researching baby gear, learning about childbirth, and excitedly planning for paternity leave.

For your part, breaking the news to your parents was not exactly what you expected or had in mind. They took the news in a very bad and ugly way, which made you feel hurt, since you thought they weren't going to take it that way. The disapproval still lingers, but it no longer holds power over you. You share your happiness with friends and Charles' family who offer genuine support and celebrate with you.

You and Charles create a photo album documenting your pregnancy journey, filled with silly selfies, ultrasound pictures, and heartfelt notes to your future child.

One evening, as you relax on the couch, Charles pulls out the photo album.

“Look at how far we've come amour!” He says, his voice filled with pride. “We may not have everyone's blessing, but we have each other, and that's all that matters.”

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes. You turn to him, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

“We do, amore. And we'll be amazing parents, together!”

He kisses you softly, the promise of a future filled with love and laughter hanging in the air. The disapproval from your parents may remain, but it fades into insignificance compared to the radiant joy you and Charles share.

****

charles_leclerc

liked by domi.nahmias, ynbff, georgerussell63 and others.

charles_leclerc baby mama is looking fine as always 😍😍 I love you so so much and our little one 💗💗

tagged ynusername

ynusername oh my babyyyyyy 🥺😭😭 I told you I looked so awful in that pic :(

charles_leclerc nonsense! You're looking gorgeous each day chérie ;)

ynusername okay!!! If u say so 🥹🥹

landonorris you're simping over a baby? Iugh 🤢

pierregasly lando stfu please 🙄🙄

ynusername thank you uncle Pierre 🙏🏻

arthur_leclerc UNCLE PIERRE? WTF ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT‼️‼️‼️

lorenzotl I hope this is a joke

charles_leclerc oh god, guys get out of my comment section please

leclerc_pascale Je vous aime tellement, je suis si heureuse pour vous mes enfants 💗💗 (I love you so much, I am so happy for you my children)

ynusername Aww, merci maman 😭🥹🩷🩷 (aww, thank you mom)

charles_leclerc Merci maman!! nous t'aimons aussi 🩷🩷 (thank you mom!! we love you too)

user4 NOT THE PINK HEARTS AGAIN, THEY KNOW SOMETHING‼️‼️‼️‼️

ynbff I want to be the cool aunt okay sir?! 🫵🏻🫵🏻

charles_leclerc noted 📝

ynusername

liked by lilymhe, ruthbuscombe, lewishamilton and others.

ynusername we can't wait to meet you little Mills 💗💗💗 your papa and I are so excited to hold in our arms and love you unconditionally 🥹🥹 📸 by the one and only charles_leclerc

tagged charles_leclerc

kellypiquet oh my god 🥺🥺🥺

georgerussell63 now we know who to spoil in the paddock

logansargeant the official F1 baby

danielricciardo the official F1 mascot

charles_leclerc I don't want my baby to wear merch from all the teams above and below.

ynusername you know that she would be sticking to Ferrari, right guys??? 👀👀

charles_leclerc our little miracle is so loved 🩷🩷🥹 I love you so much chérie, thank you for giving me the best gift of all 🩷🩷🩷

ynusername ohhh baby, you're making me cry 😭😭, I love too babe!! I promise to be the best mama and girlfriend I can be🥹 I promise!!

charles_leclerc babe, you already are the best mama and wife our little girl and I could ask for!!🩷🩷

user5 excuse me??? WIFE???!? SIR COULD YOU EXPLAIN????

user4 omg a little girlyclerc, congrats!!! 🥺🥺💗

lewishamilton congrats lovebirds!!!

ynusername thank u lew <3

charles_leclerc thank you mate ❤️

scuderiaferrari we can't wait to see her in a race car. congratulations guys ❤️❤️

oscarpiastri a new little one to spoil with papaya merch

charles_leclerc ABSOLUTELY NOT

Weeks melt into months, your belly growing bigger with each passing day. You and Charles revel in the little miracles of pregnancy: the first flutter of movement, the tiny heartbeat on the ultrasound, the shared excitement of picking out names. Your apartment transforms, adorned with tiny clothes, a miniature crib, and countless teddy bears.

One sunny afternoon, you and Charles are sprawled on the couch, giggling over a particularly stubborn hiccup emanating from your belly.

“Do you think she'll be a fast car fan?” Charles asks, tracing your swollen belly with a finger.

You laugh, “Only if she inherits your love for race cars, but if she wants to be a driver like her papa, we will always support her!”

He smiles innocently, a playful glint in his eyes. “But of course love! We will be her number one fans, her big fans.”

Suddenly, a sharp pain jolts you upright. You gasp, eyes widening. Charles is by your side instantly, his face etched with concern.

”What is it, babe? Are you okay?”

“I think... I think it's time Charles.” You manage, voice shaky with a mix of fear and excitement.

Charles throws on his coat, his movements efficient yet tinged with nervous energy, He quickly looked for a briefcase that they had prepared in recent weeks in case this moment came, which was near the door. “Let's go, amore! It's time to meet our little miracle.”

The hospital is a whirlwind of activity. Nurses bustle around you, checking vitals and offering reassurances. Charles holds your hand, his grip tight yet comforting. He whispers jokes, sings silly songs, and recounts stories about his childhood, distracting you from the growing intensity of the contractions.

Hours later, after pushing with every ounce of your strength, a tiny cry fills the room. A wave of relief washes over you, followed by an overwhelming surge of love. Charles beams, tears glistening in his eyes as he cuts the umbilical cord, welcoming their daughter into the world.

Holding your newborn child in your arms, the world melts away. You and Charles, a team united by love and parenthood, gaze in awe at the perfect little face nestled against your chest. The initial disapproval from your parents feels miles away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of joy and accomplishment.

The nurse bustles around, cleaning your newborn daughter and wrapping her in a warm blanket. You watch, exhausted yet exhilarated, as the tiny form stirs and lets out a sleepy gurgle. Your gaze flickers to Charles, his face alight with a mixture of awe and nervousness.

“Mr. Leclerc.” the nurse says, her voice gentle. “Would you like to hold your daughter first, skin-to-skin?”

Charles' eyes widen. “Me?”

“Absolutely!” the nurse smiles. “It's called kangaroo care. It helps regulate her temperature, breathing, and heart rate, and it promotes bonding between you and her.”

He hesitates briefly, then nods eagerly. ”Of course!”

The nurse carefully places your daughter on his bare chest, her tiny body nestled against his warmth. Charles' eyes well up as he looks down at her, his fingers gently brushing her soft cheek. You watch their silent communion, a wave of love and tenderness washing over you.

“There you go, little one.” Charles whispers, his voice husky with emotion. “Meet your daddy.”

Your daughter seems to respond. She quiets, her eyes fluttering open and meeting his with a gaze that seems impossibly ancient and wise. A faint coo escapes her.

Charles laughs, a joyous sound that fills the room. “You see chérie? Millie loves me already!”

You chuckle, your heart brimming with joy. The initial fear and doubt Charles harbored about fatherhood seem to melt away, replaced by a raw, instinctive protectiveness. He holds his daughter close, rocking her gently, his eyes filled with an unspoken promise to love and cherish her always.

Millie, still slightly pink and whimpering, nuzzles closer to the warmth of his skin. He cradles her awkwardly at first, then instinct seems to take over. He holds her with a tenderness that belies his usual energetic persona, stroking her tiny hand with his thumb, whispering soft reassurances in Italian.

You watch the scene unfold, your heart swelling with pride and love. This man, your partner, the one who speeds around racetracks with fearless abandon, now holds your daughter with such delicate care, such profound reverence. It's a side of him you haven't witnessed before, and it's breathtaking.

He looks up at you, his eyes shining with emotion. “Oh my, she's perfect.” he murmurs, his voice thick. “Just like her mama.”

A laugh escapes you, shaky but genuine. Tears well up again, this time tears of pure joy. You reach out, and he carefully transfers your daughter to you, placing her skin-to-skin on your chest. The warmth of her tiny body against yours is instant comfort, a connection unlike any other.

In that moment, everything else fades away. The pain, the exhaustion, the initial anxiety about how Charles would react – all vanish. All that remains is the three of you, an incredible bond forming in the quiet hospital room. This is the start of your journey, a journey filled with challenges and triumphs, but you face it together, a family united by love.

****

The weeks that follow are a whirlwind of sleepless nights, endless diaper changes, and the constant wonder of watching Millie grow and change with each passing day. Charles, true to his word, throws himself into fatherhood with the same passion he brings to racing. He learns to swaddle like a pro, sings lullabies in his surprisingly off-key voice, and develops a sixth sense for anticipating her needs.

The initial challenges you anticipated regarding his racing career never materialize. In fact, having his daughter seems to fuel him further. He dedicates his wins to her, to both of you actually, her tiny name adorning his helmet, and the fans seem to love the image of the champion racer who's also a devoted dad.

Of course, there are bumps along the road. Juggling parenthood with demanding careers takes its toll. Sleep deprivation becomes a constant companion, and arguments erupt over who gets to hold the baby during the rare moments of peace. Yet, through it all, your love for each other and Millie remains the anchor. You learn to compromise, to communicate openly, and to find humor even in the midst of exhaustion.

One evening, as you sit huddled on the couch, nursing Millie to sleep, Charles turns to you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lamp.

“Remember when we were worried about how things would change?” he asks, a chuckle in his voice.

You smile, memories of those early anxieties flooding back. “Yeah, we were pretty naive, weren't we?”

He nods, pulling you closer. “Absolutely babe, but now looking at her, I wouldn't trade this chaos for anything in the world.”

You gaze at your daughter, her peaceful breaths filling the silence. “Me neither.” you whisper, leaning your head against his shoulder. “She's our little miracle, our perfect storm.”

He kisses your forehead, his lips warm and tender. “And we're her team, amore. We'll face whatever comes our way, together.”

The weight of his words rests upon you as you watch Millie sleep. A comfortable silence descends, punctuated only by her rhythmic breaths and the soft hum of the nightlight. You feel a surge of pride, not just in Millie, but in the family you've built together.

“Remember when her first smile was just a tiny twitch of her lip?” Charles asks, his voice hushed and reminiscent.

You laugh softly, recalling the hours spent trying to elicit a response, the sheer joy when that tiny smile finally appeared. “And how she cried for an hour straight when we tried to give her a bath for the first time?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Chaos incarnate, love.” he says, his eyes twinkling with affection. "But wouldn't have it any other way.”

You nod, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Me neither. These sleepless nights, the endless diaper changes, it all feels so insignificant when she looks at us with those big, curious eyes.”

Suddenly, Millie lets out a soft coo, her eyes fluttering open. She fixes them on you, a gummy smile spreading across her face.

“See?” Charles whispers, reaching out to touch her cheek. “Millie knows how much we love her.”

He lifts her gently, cradling her close, and you watch as their daughter nuzzles into his chest. A lump forms in your throat, a mixture of love and gratitude washing over you. You've faced challenges, navigated uncertainties, but the core of your bond has remained strong.

“We're doing alright, aren't we?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

He looks at you, his gaze tender. “More than alright, amore. We're building a life, a family. And it's beautiful.”

He leans in, his lips brushing yours in a gentle kiss. In that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth of your love and the soft breaths of baby Millie sleeping, you know that the journey ahead, though filled with its own challenges, will be an adventure worth taking, hand in hand.

charles_leclerc

liked by ferraristyle, maxverstappen1, sebastianvettel and others.

charles_leclerc mama and little millie 🩷🩷🩷 oh ma petite fleur, you don't know how happy you have made us with your arrival, you are the prettiest and smallest thing we have ever seen!! I promise to take care and protect you both, because you deserve it 💗💗 ynusername you have made me the happiest man in the world, thank you so much my baby love 💗💗

tagged ynusername

ynusername you will definitely make me cry 😭😭🥺 Oh love, it's nothing, she has a little piece of both and that makes her perfect 💗💗💗

charles_leclerc okay now I'm the one who's going to cry 😭😭 I just love you my sweet baby

scuderiaferrari welcome to the team Millie 🩷🩷🩷 we're going to spoil you a lot!!

landonorris so... They can spoil her and not the F1 grid?

ynusername yup, it's like this 🤷🏻‍♀️

user3 not her using Charles' quote, she knows

pierregasly aww, she's so pretty 🥺🥺 congrats bro 💗💗

leclerc_pascale aww, ma petite étoile 🩷🩷 (aww, my little star)

ynusername maman!! nous t'aimons tellement, Millie veut te rencontrer 🩷🩷 (mom!! we love you a lot, Millie wants to meet you)

leclerc_pascale Je parie que tu le fais, chérie 🩷🩷 (I bet she does, honey)

user5 oh god, all of them using pink hearts, they are so so cute 🥺🥺💗💗💗

[chosok-amo]

SILLY LITTLE NIGHTMARES: GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU.

you are having a nightmare about your boyfriend, geto, became a curse user and is a mass murderer, so you spend your day following him around like a puppy.

warning. established relationship! satosugu, murder mentioned.

geto finishes the last bit of paperwork, the soft sound of his pen clicking shut echoing in the living room. he leans back in his chair, stretching out his arms and letting out a content sigh, satisfied to finally have some time to relax. gojo is busy tidying up the room from the mess he just made, adjusting the pillows on the couch and fluffing the throw blankets, occasionally shooting playful glances at geto.

just then, you walk into the room, your eyes still puffy and red from a restless nap. the moment they see you, both of them pause, sensing something is off. tears stream down your cheeks as you try to wipe them away, but they only seem to flow more freely.

geto’s heart drops as he immediately stands up, worry etched on his face. “hey, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, taking a step closer to you. he can feel a wave of concern wash over him, instinctively wanting to protect you from whatever is troubling you.

you blink up at him, your voice shaking as you manage to speak. “i… i just had a bad dream,” you say, your words barely above a whisper, the weight of fear still clinging to you.

you walk closer to geto, feeling the weight of your lingering emotions pressing down on you. without a second thought, you straddle him, sitting on his lap as you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder. your body shakes with quiet sobs, and the warmth of his presence envelops you like a comforting blanket.

geto’s initial alarm quickly melts away as he sees your vulnerable state. he instantly wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer until your body is pressed flush against him. a part of him is glad that it was just a dream, but he hates seeing you in such distress.

geto runs his hand gently over your hair, his touch soothing and tender. “ssh, it’s okay, you’re safe now,” he whispers, his voice gentle. gojo’s eyes dart between the two of you, a subtle frown creasing his forehead, as he pauses his tidying to watch the scene unfolding.

gojo crosses his arms, his eyes flickering with a hint of concern, but he remains silent, letting geto take the lead. he leans against the back of the couch, watching the two of you intently.

geto continues to hold you close, his hand caressing your back in slow, circular motions. “do you want to talk about it?” he gently inquires, his voice low and steady. he isn’t particularly fond of hearing about nightmares, but he wouldn't hesitate to listen if it meant offering you some sort of comfort.

you take a deep breath, trying to gather the words through your sobs as you cling to geto. his warmth and steady presence help, but the lingering fear from the dream makes your chest tighten. “it was horrible,” you manage, your voice shaky. “i dreamt that you… you became a curse user… and…” your voice breaks, tears streaming down your cheeks as you press your face into his shoulder.

geto stiffens slightly, his grip on you tightening. despite the calm expression he usually wears, you can feel the tension in his body at your words. he’s quiet for a moment, letting you continue when you’re ready.

“you…” you take another shaky breath, the words harder to say than you expected. “you killed people… so many… and then you left me and satoru behind. you just… disappeared.” fresh tears fall as the vividness of the nightmare overwhelms you again, the image of geto turning away from you playing over and over in your mind.

geto’s heart sinks deeper as he listens to your tremulous voice and imagines the nightmare you endured. his arms unconsciously tighten around you, as if he could shield you from the horrors of the dream world.

he bites down on the inside of his cheek, frustration and helplessness welling up inside of him. he hates the thought of ever causing you such pain, especially by abandoning you and gojo. it's an outcome he could never even fathom.

he lets out a slow breath, trying to maintain his composure as he replies, “i would never do that.” his tone is firm, almost urgent, as if he’s trying to convince you as much as himself.

“i’m not going anywhere, okay?” he murmurs, his hand reaching up to gently stroke your hair.

gojo watches quietly from his spot on the couch, his eyes flickering to geto. he can sense the mix of irritation and helplessness that geto is feeling, both at the idea of being the source of your pain and his inability to ease your distress.

geto’s mind races, trying to find the right words to say. he knows that just saying he wouldn’t do that isn’t enough to erase the emotional scars from the nightmare. “i’m right here,” he repeats, his voice softer now as he presses his lips against the top of your head. “i’m not going to leave you… i promise.”

you continue to cry softly, your breaths shaky as the remnants of the nightmare still cling to you. geto’s words bring some comfort, but the fear lingers, and you can’t stop the tears from falling. he holds you close, feeling the weight of your pain, and his heart aches to see you like this.

he gently pulls your face away from his shoulder, his large hands cupping your wet cheeks with care. his thumbs brush against your skin, wiping away the tears that stream down your face. his dark eyes are filled with concern and love as he gazes into yours. “look at me,” he whispers, his voice steady but tender. “i’m here. i’m not going anywhere. i promise.”

your lower lip quivers as you meet his gaze, still feeling the sting of the dream. “it felt so real, suguru,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “i thought i lost you.”

geto’s heart clenches at your words, the fear and pain in your voice like a dagger stabbing through his chest. he hates the thought of you feeling even a second of uncertainty or doubt.

he keeps his hands on your face, his gaze never waivering from yours, as he replies, “it was just a nightmare, okay? i’ll always be here with you. i swear.” he slowly leans in, gently pressing his lips against your forehead, as if to kiss away your fears and worries.

geto draws back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “i won’t let anything happen to you, and i’m damn sure i won’t ever leave you.” he repeats, his voice low and firm. “i promise.”

he holds your gaze for a moment, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your jawline, before looking over to gojo, who’s quietly watching from the side. gojo gives him a small nod, a mix of worry and support in his eyes.

geto’s hands slowly move from your cheeks to the back of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair in a soothing gesture. he holds you closer still, as if he’s trying to shield you from the world and all its horrors.

gojo silently observes the two of you from the couch, his usual smirk replaced with a serious expression. he can see the pain and worry etched on geto’s face, and he can sense the turmoil in your heart. he knows how tightly the two of you are bound together, and it pains him to see you both suffering from a mere dream.

“i won’t ever let that happen, baby, he didn’t even get a chance to think about living us before i smack some sense into his head, do you hear me?” gojo softly asks, hoping his words get through your pretty little head and the amidst cloud of nightmare.

geto shoots gojo a grateful glance, appreciating the reassurance and support. he knows that your mind being eased by both of them helps a lot more than just his word alone.

he focuses his attention on you, his hands still gently cradling your head. he can feel the tension slowly start to ease from your trembling body, and that small sign of improvement gives him some relief. “hey,” he murmurs, shifting to pull you even closer, until your face is buried into his neck. “you’re safe, you’re okay.”

you feel geto’s fingers gently combing through your hair, the repetitive motion soothing your nerves little by little. his arms wrap around you more tightly, his body shielding you from everything, just as you needed in this moment. the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours helps you regain some composure, though the lingering fear still weighs on your mind.

gojo’s voice reaches you, soft but firm, and you lift your head slightly to glance over at him. his words bring a sense of reassurance, his usual playful energy now replaced with sincerity. the thought of him smacking some sense into geto if he ever tried to leave brings a small, albeit shaky, smile to your face. you know he’s trying to lighten the mood, but there's also a seriousness in his tone that makes you feel safe.

“okay..” you manage to whisper, your voice still trembling but less fragile than before. you nod slowly, taking in a deep breath as you try to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. the nightmare is fading now, replaced by the warmth of their presence. with each inhale, you feel the fear dissipating, and with each exhale, you focus on the reality that you're here, with them.

“i know it was just a dream,” you murmur, your voice gaining a little more strength. “it’s just… it felt so real.” your fingers clutch the fabric of geto’s shirt, grounding yourself in the moment. “i just can’t stop thinking about it and it makes me upset.”

geto listens to your words quietly, his hand continuing to stroke through your hair, grounding you back to reality. he hates how your mind is still stuck on the nightmare, the fear and anxiety clinging to you like a shadow. he runs his fingers through your hair again, trying to soothe you further. “i know, i know. it’s okay. nightmares can feel so real sometimes.”

he pauses, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “i wish i could take the memories of that dream away from you, but all i can do for now is tell you that it wasn't real. i'm right here, and i'm not going anywhere.”

he tightens his grip on you ever so slightly, his voice soft as he replies, “you’re safe. i’m here. it was just a dream,” he repeats, his words a soothing mantra, as if trying to imprint them onto your heart. he turns his attention to gojo, silently asking him with a look to add some comfort as well.

gojo pushes himself off the couch and walks over to the two of you. he crouches down in front of you, his cerulean eyes meeting your tear-filled eyes gently. his hand reaches out for yours, taking it in a firm yet compassionate grip.

he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his voice low and comforting as he speaks. “i don’t know what you saw in that nightmare, but suguru’s right. you’re safe and sound right now, in the real world. it was just a product of your imagination, nothing more.”

gojo continues, his voice soothing as he tries to erase the remnants of your nightmare from your mind. “and i know, it’s hard to shake off the fear and anxiety after waking up from a nightmare, but it wasn’t real. it’s okay to feel shaken, but i promise you, nothing in that nightmare is going to come true. geto and i are here with you, always will be, and we’ll do anything to keep you safe, okay?”

you look into gojo’s cerulean eyes as he speaks, his words washing over you like a calming wave. his hand in yours feels warm and steady, grounding you in the present, reminding you that you’re no longer trapped in the nightmare. his voice is soothing, full of reassurance, and it helps ease the tension in your chest.

you take a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs and then slowly release it. the trembling in your hands begins to subside as you listen to him, the fear starting to melt away with each word. “okay,” you whisper, your voice soft but more steady than before. you give him a small nod, trusting in both him and geto to keep you safe, knowing they would never let anything happen to you.

gojo gives you a small, comforting smile, squeezing your hand once more before letting go. “that's my girl,” he says softly, his usual playful tone creeping back in, just enough to bring you a sense of normalcy.

you lean back into geto’s embrace, feeling the weight of your fear finally lifting. their presence, their words, their love—it all grounds you in this moment, and you know, deep down, that you’re safe. “thank you,” you murmur again, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude for both of them. you close your eyes briefly, taking another deep breath, this one much calmer than before.

geto holds you tightly, his hand still in your hair, and gojo rests a hand on your shoulder, the both of them ensuring you feel surrounded by warmth, love, and protection. “we’ve got you,” geto whispers against your hair, his voice filled with quiet certainty.

once both he and gojo are satisfied that you’re slowly coming down from the nightmare, geto leans back against the couch, pulling you with him until you’re snuggled against his chest. he keeps his arm wrapped around you, holding you close, as if he’s trying to shield you from any remaining shadows of the nightmare.

gojo returns to his spot on the couch, collapsing onto the cushion, but his eyes remain on you, watching intently to make sure you’re truly okay.

geto continues to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and comforting as he looks down at you. he feels the tension in your body slowly dissipating, the fear and anxiety fading away little by little. “try to get some more sleep, okay? you need to rest. one bad dream shouldn’t dictate your whole day.” he says quietly, his voice low.

you shake your head gently, pressing closer to geto, the thought of going back to sleep still unsettling. “i don’t want to sleep,” you murmur, your voice soft but firm. the fear of falling back into another nightmare lingers, making the idea of rest feel impossible.

geto’s hand stills for a moment, and he glances down at you with concern, his brows knitting together. “you’ve been burning out from work, you’re tired,” he says softly, “you need rest.”

but you just shake your head again, clinging to the warmth of his embrace. “i don’t want to go through that again,” you whisper, the vulnerability in your voice evident. “not right now.”

geto's grip on you tightens as he hears the vulnerability in your voice. he understands your fear of reliving the nightmare, but he also knows that avoiding rest will worsen it. he bites his lip, trying to think of what to say to ease your fears.

he looks over to gojo for assistance. gojo, who’s been quietly observing the two of you, sits up a little straighter, his expression becoming serious again. “alright, we’ll stay with you. we’re not going anywhere. you don’t have to go back to sleep, but you can just rest here with us then, okay?”

you nod softly in response, your body beginning to relax just a little more in geto’s arms. the reassurance from both of them is enough to help you feel safe, even if the thought of sleeping still scares you. you hum softly in acknowledgment, closing your eyes for a brief moment as you feel gojo’s presence near.

gojo leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a second, offering comfort through the simple touch. the warmth from his kiss spreads through you, easing the last remnants of fear.

“okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible but full of trust. you lean back into geto’s embrace, feeling the strength and safety in his hold, while gojo’s calming presence at your side brings you peace.

geto squeezes you tighter, wrapping his arm around you securely as you lean into him. his chin rests on the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. the sight of gojo pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead makes his heart ache, knowing how scared you were moments ago.

gojo keeps his eyes on you, watching your breath even out little by little, and the anxiety slowly leaving your body. he reaches out to take your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, providing a subtle reassurance.

“we’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and gentle.

after crying your heart out from the nightmare that had shaken you to your core, you spent the rest of the day trailing geto wherever he went, almost as if you couldn’t bear to let him out of your sight. the nightmare, though just a figment of your imagination, had left a heavy weight in your chest, one that only seemed to lighten when you were close to him.

now, you, geto, and gojo are sitting on the couch, the soft hum of the tv in the background as you lean against gojo’s chest. his arm is draped around you lazily, while geto sits at the other end, relaxed but aware of your every movement. the comfort of being sandwiched between the two of them has kept the lingering unease at bay for most of the day.

suddenly, you feel geto shift beside you, and when he begins to stand, your body tenses up. you sit upright quickly, eyes wide with concern as you look at him. “where are you going?” you ask, your voice betraying the anxiety that still lingers from the nightmare.

your voice laced with a quiet urgency, unable to mask the worry that creeps back into your tone. the idea of him leaving your sight, even for just a moment, stirs up the unease from earlier.

geto stops in his tracks, looking back at you with a gentle smile, one that’s meant to reassure you. “just going to the bathroom,” he says softly, his tone calm and understanding. “i’ll be right back, i promise.”

gojo tightens his arm around you slightly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “he’s not running off, baby,” gojo teases lightly, though there’s a hint of concern in his voice as he looks down at you. “besides, if he takes too long, i’ll drag him back for you.” despite gojo’s playful tone, your eyes stay on geto, still uneasy. but you nod slowly, watching him as he disappears down the hall.

once geto is in the bathroom and out of earshot, gojo drops the teasing tone and turns his attention fully to you. he studies your face silently for a moment, taking in the unease that still clings to you. he can see the way your eyes follow geto’s every move when he’s around, the anxiety etched onto your features whenever he leaves your sight.

he sighs softly, his hand continuing to rub circles on your back in a calm, comforting motion. “you're still rattled from that nightmare, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice low and gentle.

you turn to gojo, shaking your head lightly as if trying to convince both him and yourself. “i’m not,” you murmur, your voice soft but unconvincing. though you rest your head back against his chest, the tension in your body hasn’t fully disappeared. despite your denial, your eyes still flicker toward the bathroom door every few moments, watching, waiting.

gojo can easily tell that you're lying, and he lets out a quiet exhale as he continues to rub circles on your back. “you are,” he counters softly, his voice free from any playful tone, no hint of teasing at all. “we both know you are, and there’s no shame in it.”

he glances at the bathroom door and then back at you. “you’re on edge every time he leaves the room, and you’ve been like this all day.”

gojo pauses for a moment, trying to figure out how to address your uneasiness. you keep your head on his chest, avoiding his gaze, clearly still trying to convince yourself that you're okay. but he can feel the tension in your body, the way you're silently clenching and unclenching your fists.

he runs his hand through your hair gently, brushing a strand of it behind your ear. gojo’s lips twitch in a small, knowing smile, but he doesn’t say anything for a moment. he can see through your weak attempt at convincing him that you're not still affected by the nightmare.

he wraps his arm around you tighter, pulling you closer against his chest. “you know, getting another nightmare is pretty unlikely. the chances are very low,” he says, trying to alleviate your fears.

you shake your head slightly against gojo’s chest, your voice barely a whisper as you reply, “i still can’t forget about it.” the unease in your tone is unmistakable, and the way your fists clench unconsciously gives away how much the nightmare still lingers in your mind.

despite his comforting presence and logical reassurance, the images from the nightmare are too vivid, too real to easily brush aside. “it’s terrible..” you admit softly, your eyes once again darting toward the bathroom door, waiting for geto to return, as if his presence alone can chase away the remnants of the dream.

gojo looks down at you, a pang of sympathy and concern in his eyes. he sees the way you're still on edge, your fists clenching and unclenching, your eyes darting to the bathroom door. he knows this is more than just a bad dream, it’s a lingering fear that's hard to shake off.

he runs his fingers through your hair gently, trying to soothe you. “i know it’s hard to forget,” he says softly, “but you’e awake now. that nightmare isn’t real. you’re here with me and geto, you’re safe. there he is,” he murmur the moment his eyes caught geto walk out of the bathroom.

geto returns from the bathroom, immediately noticing your tense demeanor and the way you're still glued to gojo’s side. he walks over and takes a seat next to you, a small frown tugging at his lips as he takes in your anxious expression. he reaches out and puts a hand gently on your shoulder. “still rattled?” he asks, his voice soft.

you nod silently, unable to speak through the lump in your throat. the nightmare still feels fresh in your mind, leaving you feeling vulnerable and shaken. geto’s touch brings you a small measure of reassurance, but it’s not enough to fully calm your racing heart.

geto chuckles softly, his expression softening as he watches you shift in gojo’s embrace, your eyes still filled with a lingering unease. "come here," he murmurs, opening his arms wide. there’s a teasing glint in his eyes, but the warmth in his voice makes it clear that his intention is to comfort you.

without hesitation, you move from gojo’s chest and slip into geto’s arms, almost instinctively. he wraps them around you, pulling you close, his hands immediately resuming their familiar, soothing touch. “there you go,” he murmurs into your hair, his breath warm against your skin. his voice is light, and you can feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

then, with a small smirk, he adds teasingly, “you really are a crybaby, you know that?” despite the words, there’s nothing but affection in his tone.

you can’t help but let out a small, half-hearted laugh through your lingering nerves, burying your face in his shoulder. “i’m not,” you mumble, the warmth of his embrace finally starting to chip away at the cold fear still gripping your heart.

gojo watches as you move into geto's arms, his expression a mix of amusement and understanding. he sees the way you immediately melt into geto’s touch, the tension slowly slipping away. as you let out a small laugh, he lets out a small scoff, a smile on his face. “yes, you are,” he says, joining in the teasing. “but it’s alright, we have all night to soothe your fragile little heart.”

geto laughs softly at gojo's words, his arms tightening around you momentarily. “he’s right, you know,” he murmurs, his voice soft against your hair. “you really are quite sensitive when it comes to nightmares. but don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe and sound all night long.”

his hands continue to run soothingly over your back as he looks over at gojo. “you better watch yourself. you’re just as soft as she is, you know.”

you grumble in response, your face still buried in geto’s shoulder. you can feel his laugh reverberate through his chest, and his hands continue to move gently over your back, soothing and comforting.

“you two are such a jerk,” you murmur, but there’s no real venom in your words. geto just laughs again, pulling you even closer into his embrace. “and you’re a baby,” he teases again, ruffling your hair.

gojo grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “aww, don’t deny it, you're a total baby.” he teasingly pokes your side, making you squirm in protest. geto chuckles, holding on to you firmly. “yeah, that’s right. you’re our little baby. all soft and sensitive, just like a fragile little flower.”

“stop moving too much,” you whine, trying to keep up as geto moves around the house with his usual calm, deliberate pace. it’s been hours of him finding little things to do, whether straightening up, moving a book from one shelf to another, or inspecting something that didn’t need attention at all.

he glances over his shoulder at you, amusement dancing in his eyes as he chuckles. “you’re the one who keeps following me,” he teases, but there’s a knowing warmth behind his words. he’s been doing this on purpose—giving you something to focus on, keeping you busy enough to slowly pull you away from the lingering nightmare.

you can tell what he’s up to, but you don’t mind. in fact, it’s comforting to follow him, even if your legs are starting to get tired. each step behind him feels like a reminder that he’s there, solid and real, and the nightmare is fading further into the background.

he pauses for a moment, turning to face you fully with a smirk. “i’m just making sure you tire yourself out enough to sleep tonight and stop you from all those nightmares you had,” he says lightly, his eyes softening as he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

you groan, feeling the exhaustion creeping in as you follow geto once again, watching him head toward the kitchen. “you’re so annoying,” you mutter, though there’s no real bite behind your words. he’s clearly enjoying himself, finding amusement in your persistence.

geto just chuckles again, unfazed, as he steps into the kitchen where gojo is sitting comfortably at the dining table, leisurely munching on a donut. gojo watches the whole scene unfold with an amused grin, his eyes flicking between the two of you. "you really are wasting all your energy following him around like a lost puppy,” gojo comments, his voice teasing but not unkind. he takes another bite of his donut, leaning back in his chair like he’s enjoying a front-row seat to the show.

“maybe if someone would stop walking around, i wouldn’t have to,” you huff, shooting a playful glare at geto as he busies himself with something on the counter. “toruuu, you could help me, you know,” you say, taking a seat beside him, though even as you speak, you know that’s unlikely. he’s perfectly content watching you wear yourself out.

gojo chuckles, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watches you following geto around like a lost puppy. he knows exactly why geto’s doing this, and he’s thoroughly enjoying the show. “aww, look at you being the devoted little follower,” he teases between bites of his donut. “just keep following him like that and you’ll wear yourself out in no time.”

geto, who’s puttering around in the kitchen, can’t help but chuckle at your comment. he shoots a glance over his shoulder at you, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “and miss this entertaining spectacle? it’s not every day i get to have a cute little puppy trailing behind me, constantly at my beck and call,” he teases back.

he knows that you’re not exactly happy about being tired out, but he’s enjoying the fact that you’re willingly following him around. it’s like a game to him, seeing how long you’ll keep up the tag-along. but he also wants to help you shake off the lingering effects of the nightmare.

gojo lets out a small pout of mock disappointment as you steal his donut, his initial protest quickly giving way to a look of amusement. “how rude,” he says, feigning hurt.

he watches as you happily bite into the stolen treat, a small smile tugging at his lips. “you’re such a little gremlin, you know that?” he teases, knowing full well that he doesn’t mind sharing, especially if it puts a smile on your face. geto watches the whole scene unfold from a distance, a grin on his face as he continues tending to whatever he’s doing in the kitchen.

geto can’t help but feel a warmth in his chest as he watches you banter playfully with gojo, the tension and unease from earlier slowly melting away. he continues his tasks in the kitchen, allowing himself a moment to simply observe the two of you interacting.

after a moment, he speaks up again. “you know, if you’re done eating gojo’s donut, maybe you should come back here. i’m not finished with you yet.” there’s a hint of tease in his voice, even as he keeps his focus on the task before him.

you shake your head playfully, reaching for another donut with a smug grin. “i think i’m good here, actually,” you say, biting into the donut with exaggerated satisfaction. “besides, the nightmare’s already gone, and satoru’s donuts taste so good.”

gojo chuckles, watching you pilfer another donut from the box. “you’re a little thief,” he teases, not bothering to stop you. he doesn’t really mind sharing his food, especially if it means getting to see you look so satisfied and relaxed.

geto scoffs at your response, his eyes narrowed with playful irritation. “don’t think you’re getting off that easily. i’ve got plans for you.” he glances over his shoulder at you, a smirk on his lips. “and besides, i’m not done yet. you still have some energy left to burn.”

you hum contentedly, still munching on the donut in your hand. glancing at the box, then back at gojo, you grin mischievously. “i call shotgun on the oreo,” you announce, pointing toward the donut with a playful smirk, even while taking another bite of the one you’re eating.

gojo rolls his eyes, his expression a mix of playful annoyance and amusement. “you’re really going to finish all my donuts, aren’t you?” he says, knowing full well that resisting your charm is a futile task.

before he can respond further, geto calls out from the kitchen, his voice laced with both warmth and command. “oh, come on. quit flirting with each other and get your ass over here.”

you flash gojo a smug grin, enjoying the way his face twists in mock annoyance. “too bad for you, i called shotgun first,” you say, your voice dripping with playful confidence as you take another indulgent bite of your donut. the satisfaction of winning this little battle with him adds a bit more sweetness to the treat in your hand.

you glance over at geto, who’s been quietly observing the entire exchange. with a heavy, exaggerated sigh, you reluctantly place the donut back on the table. “fine,” you grumble under your breath, acting as though you’ve just made the biggest sacrifice of your life. dragging your feet a little for dramatic effect, you slowly make your way toward geto, still pouting as you walk.

gojo watches as you saunter over to geto, unable to hide the small smile forming on his face. he shakes his head, amused by your exaggerated show of reluctance.

geto, on the other hand, looks far from sympathetic as he watches you approach with a small chuckle, his arms crossed over his chest. “oh, spare me the drama. you’re not the one making a sacrifice here, princess.” he smirks, clearly enjoying your exaggerated expression.

“you’re such a diva,” he teases, rolling his eyes as you approach. he’s clearly enjoying your bratty behavior, but he’s not about to let you get off scot-free. “now, come on. stop moving so slow,” he says, reaching out to grab your arm and pull you closer to him.

he guides you to a spot next to him, a countertop filled with various ingredients laid out in front of you. “since you’re so keen on stealing everyone’s food, maybe you can put your thieving skills to use in the kitchen,” he says with a wry smile, his grip on your arm still gentle but firm.

he releases you and steps back, giving you a moment to take in the array of items on the counter. “now, you’re going to help make some sweets,” he orders, his voice soft but authoritative. “and no complaints or diva moments, understood?”

you let out a dramatic sigh, letting your shoulders slump as if the weight of the world rested on them. your face adopts a lazy, bored expression, and you roll your eyes at geto’s suggestion. “i’m still rattled from the nightmare,” you say with an exaggerated pout, the hint of a lie in your voice. in truth, it’s more about feeling lazy than shaken up. “i’m not allowed to do such a thing while still traumatized,” you admit, eyeing towards the remaining treats with a longing look.

geto lets out a scoff, the sound a mix of fondness and irritation. he knows you too well to be fooled by your act. “oh, please. don’t try to pull a fast one, princess. i know you’re not that rattled. you’re just being a brat.”

he takes a step closer to you, his hand gently tilting your chin up so you can meet his gaze. his eyes hold a mixture of warmth and challenge. “no more excuses. you’re helping me make sweets, end of story.”

he glances over at the remaining treats, a knowing smirk on his lips. “and don’t even think about going for those donuts again. you’ve had plenty.”

he releases your chin and steps back, gesturing to the array of ingredients on the counter. “now, here’s the plan. pay close attention,” he says, his tone commanding and authoritative. “i’ll guide you through the steps, but don’t even think about slacking off or complaining.”

you narrow your eyes at gojo, who’s blissfully enjoying the very oreo donut you just claimed as your own. his smug smirk only adds fuel to the fire of your annoyance. you cross your arms, shooting him a playful glare that says everything—this is definitely a low blow.

with a dramatically heavy sigh, you lean back slightly, feigning exasperation. “ugh, fine,” you concede, rolling your eyes for added effect. you shoot one last pout in gojo's direction before begrudgingly turning back to the array of ingredients laid out in front of you, secretly hoping you might enjoy the process despite your reluctance.

gojo chuckles, thoroughly enjoying your reaction to his sneaky donut heist. his smirk only gets wider, clearly amused by your grumpy display.

geto watches the exchange, his expression a mix of annoyance and affection. he shakes his head at your theatrical display of reluctance, clearly unamused by your exaggerated behavior.

he steps closer to you, his voice low and firm. “enough with the pouts. you’re not getting out of this, princess. you’re going to help me make these sweets, and you’re going to do it happily. got it?”

you roll your eyes dramatically, unable to help the annoyance bubbling up inside you. with a sarcastic huff, you mutter, “yes, dad,” the words slipping out effortlessly. it’s a phrase you’ve used countless times before whenever geto gets all strict and bossy with you.

gojo barks out a laugh, the sound echoing through the room. he can’t help but find the whole situation hilarious.

geto’s response, however, is far less amused. his eyes narrow slightly at your sarcastic comment, his expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “oh, princess, don’t even start. you’re really living up to the brat name tonight,” he scoffs.

“if you’re going to act like a petulant child, i can treat you like one,” geto threatens, his voice stern and commanding, his gaze locked on yours.

you mutter a half-hearted “sorry” under your breath, your face still scrunched in irritation as you grab the spatula geto handed you. the gesture feels more like a chore than a fun activity, and you can’t shake the annoyance creeping in from being forced into this situation.

geto’s unwavering gaze doesn’t let up, a mix of authority and exasperation in his eyes. it’s clear he’s not backing down, no matter how much you might want to sulk. you huff silently, resigned to your fate, and start to focus on the ingredients in front of you, trying to channel your frustration into something productive— even if it feels a bit like throwing a tantrum.

gojo watches the back-and-forth between you and geto with a stifled chuckle, clearly amused by your bratty behavior. it’s like watching two stubbornly opposing forces collide, each determined to win.

geto, on the other hand, continues to maintain his stern and commanding presence. he knows exactly how far he can push you, and he refuses to give an inch. “stop mumbling apologies and focus,” he barks, his voice a mixture of amused and expectation.

“you’re not getting out of this until you make something edible.”

the atmosphere in the kitchen is a mix of tension and challenge, as you begrudgingly begin to follow geto’s instructions on mixing the ingredients.

he watches you silently for a moment, his eyes never leaving your form. he can see the frustration and irritation still etched on your face, but he also knows that deep down, you’re enjoying this, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it. “less complaining, more stirring,” he comments with a smirk, clearly enjoying the fact that you’re following his orders.

[thecoochiefairy]

𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖞

━━ 𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑠 .ᐟ toji.

warnings 𑄽𑄺 12k word count. boxer toji, third person omniscient pov, black woman, vaginal penetration, angry sex, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, daddy kink, squirting, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, a lil degrading?, fingering, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, aggressive toji, lil bit of sweet toji, physical violence, talks of body image issues, minors aren’t welcome!

song to play while listening; 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 ; 𝑙𝑖𝑙 𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ if you didn’t see it already, there is a trigger warning for talks of body/self image issues! i’m a girlie that deals with a lot of that, so this was a bit heartfelt for me. this is dedicated to any of my girls/gay’s/they’s that feel down about themselves! you’re all perfect 🫶🏽love your body + your body will love you back! enjoy!

OF COURSE SHE FUCKING WOULD. 

Blood drips down his chin, eyes shooting over at the mirror as his scar is now reopened, ripping between his bottom and top lip. His anger seeped through his face in a way it’d never shown before, staring back at the woman he’d kill for. They had their ups and downs—this definitely had to be their worst fight. 

Their now five year relationship blossomed in an uncanny place—The gym, an environment where people didn’t expect to be approached or distracted from their routine. He didn’t mean to bother her, he just couldn’t help it.

She stood at the Smith’s machine, blowing out a breath as she gripped the bar that looked to hold a weight of forty-five on each side. He watched her. Her skin is a warm toffee complexion, scrunchie holding her onyx curls, tendrils falling around her face that’s painted with thousands of freckles. Full dark eyebrows furrow lowly, baby pink lips sinking under her bone straight teeth. Her brown eyes stare out of focus, long lashes curling atop of her pupils. She was mesmerizing. 

She was more curvy than the women he usually went for. Even from under the sweater she wore, her full breast, large hips and pudgy stomach, her ass— god, he couldn’t get enough of her, and he didn’t even know this woman’s name. She seems frustrated. She twists her body under the bar as she squats, taking a deep breath as she goes to lift it up, her arms trembling. It causes her to quickly drop the bar back in place, a roll coming to her eyes.

“It’s better to train muscles when they’re at failure,” Is the first thing he says to her. 

Her eyes follow up to him. She nearly trips over the bench beneath the machine as she takes in this man. He stands in front of her, long sleeve black compression shirt pulled at his elbows that showcase a couple of tattoos on his muscular arms. His dark hair falls along his eyebrows as it seems he’d been sweating. Scarily handsome features, strong jaw, deep eyes with a confident aura she wasn’t used to. This man was fine, holy fuck, she thought. 

“Excuse me?” She stutters.

“I’m tryna’ be a boxer, so I have to sustain muscle in order to stay in my weight class. Fatigue means muscle activation. So… say you’re doing a set of ten squats, by the fourth or fifth squat you’re tired as fuck,” he talks, her eyes only blinking in response, “Any squat after that is typically the ones that are increasing your muscles.”

Her eyebrows only raise. He then chuckles as he places his hand behind his neck, “My fault, I just…needed a reason to come talk to you.”

“To me?” She questions, her lashes falling over her cheeks.

“You, doll,” He chuckles, her eyes falling to the silver ball along his tongue as his mouth slightly opens. She wants to gulp. 

“What’s your name?” He then asks.

She crosses her arms over her chest as she asks, “Why you’ wanna know? You tryna’ get in my pants or something?”

That makes him laugh. He shakes his head as he speaks, “Five minutes of talking to you and your ass is already being stubborn. That's cool, I like that.”

“It’s Sonali,” she then replies, “Pronounced Sah—nah—lee, not So—nah—lee, I hate when people say my name wrong.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I wanna say your name a thousand times.”

“Damn. You don’t hold back, do you?” She tilts her head. 

“I want you,” he states flatly. 

“You’ manifesting that or something?”

“It’s a fuckin’ promise.”

And it was. She never had a man so affectionate, thoughtful—good as fuck in bed— it was the first time she’d experienced an authentic love. She could admit, the first two years were rough. Mostly from her own overthinking. Anytime they were out in public and the eyes of other women fell upon him, she gripped herself tighter around his arm. She didn’t want to be the jealous type, but as these girls continued to throw themselves at him, it was like she didn’t exist. Was she not good enough? Pretty enough? Skinny enough? 

She eyed every single person in the gym. Everyone's body was different, but the ones that got the most attention were the standard preference of beauty nowadays. Slim, able to go into a store and fit a piece of clothing in the first try. No problems in the world. Call her dramatic, call her apathetic of even the “perfect” people’s issues. Maybe if she was perfect, she’d have less problems than her own. 

There were so many times Toji caught her staring at herself in the mirror, noticing she would turn away from it when she undressed. As many times as he’d purposely fucked her in front of it, nothing changed. But he knew that it wasn’t his call to make her confident within herself. He just wished she knew how perfect she was. 

He could feel himself straying away from Sonali, a particular type of anger building within her body that only increased the closer he tried to get to her. Anytime a woman tried to talk to him, she was mad. When he suggested that she wear more clothes that didn’t dishevel her figure, she was even more mad. He didn’t understand what he was doing wrong, only wanting her to feel as beautiful as she was. Nothing worked. Yet through all of it, he was always so patient with her, never becoming angry or ever raising his voice to her. Sonali’s own self destruction almost caused them to break up—and then, her father had passed away.

Sonali’s life had fallen apart. It was just as tough for Toji, coming to learn that her father owned a boxing gym in the city, sparring and bonding with a man that seemed perfect in health. He watched his girlfriend spar aggressively with her father, giggling like a little girl as she did so. It made him smile to see that he was the one person that could rid all that attitude. When he died, nobody knew he was sick. Not even Sonali— his death was a shock to their entire family. But with Toji there for her, all of her pain seemed easier to manage. He loved her no matter how angry she was. In general, or at him. The more she pushed away, the more he pulled forward. She cried in his arms for nights at a time, wishing she hadn’t lost her father. Wishing she could be the confident woman he raised her to be. Wishing everything wasn’t so damn difficult. 

That anger never subsided, grief turning to rage very quickly. It all mushed into one emotion when a random stranger verbally attacked her, calling her a racial slur and spitting at her. That was her final straw. She lunged forward as she attacked this woman, ripping the frail blonde hair from her scalp, punching her with a strength of almost two men. When Toji pulled her away, the cops captured her next, dragging her out in a chaotic scene. 

Once again, there Toji was. Right behind her in court, nervously listening in as the judge explained her assault charges. The woman now had a busted artery in her face, paired with a ruptured eardrum that caused her to go completely deaf on her left side. The charges were thankfully dropped due to witnesses explaining she was only in defense of herself due to discrimination, plus her record being completely clean. That situation proved to Sonali that she wanted to change for the better. Mentally, physically, emotionally, even if that meant some self reflecting she wasn’t ready to face.

“I think you’re perfect the way you are, baby. But if you wanna change, we can work towards that, too,” Toji’s deep voice comes in her ears that same night, cleaning the blood from beneath her fingers, staring in her face as frustrated tears drop from her eyes. 

“We can start by finding a place to put all of that anger. Imma’ put you in the ring with me, I’d never need a mouth guard again,” He teases, causing her to softly giggle as he continues, “You got a mean ass left hook. You learned that from your father.”

“Yeah. Taught me a few things, although most of my skills came from petty street fights” she mutters. 

“I get that, you need technique. I was damn near enamored with all the Rocky films. Even had a punching bag in my bedroom,” he chuckles.

“You need technique. I can show you,” she suggests.

“Me?”

“You’re quick, but you lack the repetition of catching your opponent off guard. That’s how you win. Relax them into thinking they have that negative space to hit you, then swing where they least expect it,” she shrugs.

“Teach me some shit, then.”

“I will.”

In those three years, Sonali faced all the issues she felt she withheld, having a support system behind her that had truly changed her for the better. Her patience, temper, eating habits, sleeping schedule. She felt like a new her. A better her. Toji saw her progress as well, falling more in love every single day—he just had to ask for her hand in marriage. 

Here they were now, Sonali giving co-ownership of her father’s boxing gym to Toji, allowing him to reopen the business for other local boxers. He was easily recognized, known to never lose a match, knocking someone out in less than five minutes. She wasn’t used to seeing him have a somewhat celebrity status, but it made her happy that she could be beside him for this new time in their relationship. Just like she saw changes in him, he definitely saw changes within her.

“C’mon, Fushiguro.”

He heard his manager's voice within his ear. Shiu leaned  against the rope of the ring where Toji stood inside, across from another man as they continued to spar. This was his usual routine on a regular day, constantly upping his skills to prepare for his next match. 

“You’ distracted or something?” The man across from him asked, smiling in an almost taunting manner. 

“Yeah. I’m bored, you hit like a bitch.” 

“Show me some shit then!” The man laughed, hovering the gloves over his face, arms out in a protective position. 

‘I BE DAMNED’  by Comethazine continues to play along the speakers in the ceiling. Toji remained where he was, hands mimicking the protection stance as he stared at his opponent. He stepped back, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet with narrowed eyes. He studied his movement like a test. Just as the man was about to talk more shit, his glove quickly lashed out and smashed his opponent in the jaw as he flashed forward, knocking him to the floor. Toji harshly taps his gloves together, continuing to bounce on his feet as the man quickly stands up, ignoring the cringe that goes around the ring. 

“Y’all acting like girls,” the coach says, “Fushiguro, you gotta perfect this move you keep dodging. Lead uppercut, straight,” He commands.

“I got it,” he says lowly.

“So do it.” 

Him and the man continue to spar for a bit. From another pair of eyes, his hands smear into the atmosphere, catching every movement the man makes in front of him. He knows all of his techniques. His focus is encapsulated on the gloves in front of him, never noticing as the large bodyguard enters the gym, standing to the side with his hands in front of his abdomen. 

When he does see this, he slows down as he calls, “De’Angelo, where’s Sonali?”

“She’s not here, sir.” De’Angelo replies, no emotion to his face. 

Toji steps back from his opponent as he tilts his head, “I’m not a fucking idiot. Don’t play with me. I can see that, she’s supposed to be with you.”

“She told me to come here, sir,” he explains, “Said she wanted to be by herself.”

“I don’t pay you to fold,” he gruffly reminds, twisting his neck as he cracks the bone, “Did she tell you where she was going?”

“No, sir.” 

He becomes immensely irritated, flaring his nose as he wants to punch the shit out of his bodyguard. He didn’t necessarily need one, but with the status he was beginning to withhold and having a schedule where he couldn’t constantly be with Sonali, he hired De’Angelo for her safety. Her and him had created a friendship essentially, De’Angelo obviously being wrapped up in her sweet nature, allowing himself to be distracted by his job. Shit, he wasn’t the first. 

“Imma’ give you five minutes to find her before I step out this ring.”

The funny thing was, De’Angelo was a man that nearly stood at 6’5, bigger and scarier than most. But Toji was bigger and scarier than any man combined when he was pissed. 

By god’s grace—and to De’Angelo’s luck—Toji’s ears almost hike up like a dog when he hears her feminine voice, involuntarily sultry as she speaks. She appears within the frame of the gym’s door, leaning her head against the phone to her ear as she giggles softly, “Girl. You should’ve seen the cashier's face. Looking at me stupid cause I counted four hundred dollars in one’s. Mind your business, hoe!” 

Another issue Toji was recently beginning to face. With all the evolving Sonali had done in the years of them being together, her beauty had become tenfold. She went from a ten, to a fucking twelve. Her proportions were almost exaggerative. Full breast, sitting upright perfectly under the soft pink gym set she wore, long sleeve and clinging to her curves. Her waist was comparative to a Coke bottle, hips large as if she’d given birth. Thighs toned and supple, ass—soft, full, fat. She was a dime. As she entered the building, her dark curls bounced around her shoulders, pulled out of her face by a hello kitty shaped hair band, one she usually wore if she was doing her makeup or going to the gym. Yet, her face is rid of any cosmetics, freckles spraying along her cheeks and forehead, nose ring shining in the light. She absentmindedly sipped the matching pink cup she had, holding a numerous amount of bags in her other hand. 

Jealousy. A word that he never expected to feel within his own body anytime she was without him, the eyes of other men hungry as they watched her. He knew the kind of beauty his woman withheld, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it when they stared. He was like her guard dog, always hovering over her as she danced in la-la land, giddy and happy as he protected her from the monster that was the reality. The same cat-like eyes that were tattooed on his forearm became slender as she smiled. Her hips twisted as she came in, calling into the phone, “Imma’ call you back. See you later, bookie!” Hanging up as she turned her attention to their bodyguard.

“Hey, D. I got both of us a drink! I got you some lime Kombucha, I know you said your stomach had been hurting. This should help your digestion,” She smiles, handing the soft green drink to him. 

Toji stumbles slightly as he feels his opponent connect his glove into his shoulder, lightly trying to get his attention. As everyone else laughs around him, he glares in return, the laughs quickly dying down as the coach mutters, “Should’ve minked his ass in the face. Let's take a five,” he then states. 

“Fuck you. I’m taking a ten,” Toji replies, removing his gloves and only being left with bandages as he drops down from the ring, coming over to her as she continues to speak to De’Angelo. 

His face goes slightly warm as he takes the drink, “Try it in the car. I’ll be out there in a second, okay? I’ll show you the playlist I made for you,” she talks.

“Yes ma’am,” he ducks away from Toji’s death stare, exiting the building.

His face softens as he now looks down to her. He watches as she drops her bags, placing her cup down on the ground as wraps her arms around his neck. 

“Babydoll,” he rasps, “Where were you?”

“Hi, Daddy,” she smiles happily, “I missed you.”

He narrows his eyes down. She softly rolls her eyes as she speaks, “I just came from the gym, did a little shopping afterwards. Why you’ making a face? Are you upset?”

“‘Nali, baby,” he sighs, bringing his arms around her ass, gripping the skin within his hold, “I don’t like to have to put my foot up D'Angelo's ass everytime I can’t find you with him. Please stop sending him off.”

“Okay, sorry. I just wanted to have a little girl time, that’s all. You’ mad? Tell me you love me.”

“I love you. You know that,” he brings his face down, sucking her tongue into his mouth. He could never be mad at her for too long, even if it was warranted. Her grin widens as she says, “Good. How’s he doing?” She then brings her attention to the men in the ring, pulling Toji’s hand as she makes her way over to them.

“Distracted by you. Get out,” Shiu expresses, annoyed.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she brings her eyes to his coach, “Why y’all beefing? What’s the problem?” 

“We’ve been trying to get him to perfect the uppercut, straight-hit. He’s being soft.” 

“What's that?” One of the newer members of the gym asks, climbing into the ring as his session is coming in the next fifteen minutes. 

“It’s when you dip down to the right, punch within the airway of your stomach, then lean towards the left and tag your opponent in the face,” Sonali explains, rubbing Toji’s arm who seems more annoyed than his manager.

“He would’ve done that shit if you were here,” the coach points out.

“Why don’t you train? You know this shit better than most of us do.” The other guy asks.

She shakes her head, “Had to get my hands registered when Toji did. Fighting is a bit traumatic for me now. Plus, I’m in school, I don’t really have the time.” 

Toji knew her real passion, wanting to be a postpartum nurse and help new mothers with their babies. She currently worked a part-time job making the milk within the hospital for their NICU department. He also knew she could easily just be as good as him in boxing if she put her mind to it. 

“Too bad. Put this motherfucker in check, his head is somewhere else when we have a fight tomorrow,” Shiu snaps.

“Wanna get in the ring with him, Shiu? Better yet, with me?” Sonali asks.

He stares silently, muttering as he speaks, “I gotta take a phone call. For your damn fight,” He looks to Toji, stepping down from the ring as she makes his way to another part of the gym. Sonali calls, “C’mon, Shiu! I was just fucking with you.”

“I don’t have time for his prissy ass today. Imma’ get the move, I’m good,” Toji finalizes to his coach.

He replies, “You better.”

Everyone steps down from the ring as they allow the other boxers to get their time in, Sonali sitting on the ground with Toji as she wraps his bandages for him. She sighs, “Shiu’s giving you shit today. Why?”

“He’s pissed at me cause I didn’t take some endorsement deal they called me for. I’m cool with the status I have now. Even that is too much,” he replies honestly.

“You don’t enjoy all the pretty girls gawking over you?” She teasingly asks.

He shakes his head, “The only pretty girl I want fangirling over me is you.”

“Awe, you’re so fake.” She lightly mushes her hand against his face, “Should’ve taken it. Would’ve put more money in our pockets.”

“Money isn’t a problem. You know that,” he reminds, “Don’t I keep you in the life of luxury?” He teases back.

“Of course. But getting calls for endorsement means that they see you have the potential to be bigger than you think. You can make a household name, Fushiguro. Don’t miss that opportunity. You have me. I have you. We’re a team,” she speaks.

He sighs, knowing that she’s right. He wasn’t too fond of being in the limelight, but if that meant more financial stability and to be able to take care of her more than he did now, he found an upside to the situation. 

He changes the subject, “What’d you spend all my money on today?”

“Um, wrong. I spent my money today, playboy. I got it like that,” she corrects him, running her fingers over his olive skin as he chuckles, “I bought the cutest Telfar purse in the store. It was ballerina pink. I had to have it, I also bought some more gym shirts for you, and some outfit choices for my friends party tonight.”

“You didn’t tell me about a party,” he frowns.

“I’m telling you now,” she blinks.

He blows out a breath, scratching the back of his neck as he asks, “What are we eating tonight?”

“Oh! Well, I bought some ingredients to cook you some vegan tacos. I also got a couple of fruits to make smoothies—“

“Why can’t we eat like regular people? I’m a grown ass man, baby. My carnivorous needs aren’t being met.”

She rolls her eyes, “Because I’m under a calorie deficit, and red meat is too heavy for my stomach. And yours,” she replies.

“Ah shit, here we go with this calorie deficit bullshit,” he groans, leaning back on the ground as he continues groaning like a toddler.

“Don’t start with me, Toji. I swear to god.”

Although he was supportive of her new lifestyle as far as her diet was concerned, it sometimes became a frustration between them when he was also forced to eat the same foods as her. He felt like he needed to eat twice after one meal, trying to maintain his correct protein count. 

“Fine, I’ll get you some chicken. It’ll keep you shaped like the Hulk.”

He leans his head up, “If only I was actually that big. I’d fly across the city and burn every vegan-calorie-deficit-item known to man.”

“You’re my biggest hater, you know that?” She raised an eyebrow.

“And your biggest fan all in one.”

She tilts her head, “I almost forgot to mention the last place I went. I stopped by the Savage-Fenty store. Got me a couple lingerie sets,” she rolls her eyes, looking at her bags as she feels Toji sit halfway up.

“But all my items seem so uninteresting to you. So I guess I’ll just take them ba—“

She’s interrupted as he grips her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he grabs all of her belongings with him. She coughs at the sudden movement, giggling as he begins making his way towards the exit.

His coach calls, “Aye! Where the hell you’ going, Fushiguro?!”

“I’m done for tonight. I’ll come back in the morning!”

“You better know how to tap a motherfucker by the time you come here tomorrow!”

“Oh, Imma’ tap something!” He calls back.

Sonali places her hand over her mouth, shockingly laughing as she shouts, “Toji!” His coach shakes his head as he watches them disappear out of the building. 

                              ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

“You like it? Maybe I should’ve gotten gold. Shit, maybe pink. Ugh.”

Sonali stands indesively in the full body mirror within the bathroom, eyeing herself and pulling any critique she can. She brings her vision behind her as she watches Toji sitting in a bathtub full of ice, absentmindedly scratching his chin as he leans his arms on the sides of the bath, staring at his phone. 

“So anyways, like I was saying. Amara didn’t invite this other girl to the party because when she invited us out to her birthday dinner, she told us that it was a split the bill type of thing, right?”

“Right,” Toji mutters, never looking up from his phone.

“So I tell Amara, girl. What the hell do I look like splitting the bill with somebody? I’m paying for my meal, tipping the waiter and taking my ass home.”

“Right,” he mutters again, stretching his arm back as he scrolls his thumb across his screen.

“The girl catches an attitude and is like, ‘It’s my birthday. I wanna go to a steak restaurant, and imma’ ball out on shrimp, oxtails, lamb chops. Everyone will pay an equal five hundred and sixty—“

“And?” He cuts off, wide eyes shooting up as he hears the number, “There’s an ‘and’ after that number? ‘The fuck I look like paying five hundred American dollars for something I’m not consuming? That lobster better revive itself and boil all over again,” he exclaims.

“Moral to the story is, her and the girl aren’t cool anymore and now she’s blowing up Amara’s phone because she’d already bought her outfit for the party. Make the check out to that lamb chop, bitch,” she finalizes, turning towards him as she then asks, “But seriously, do you like it?”

He takes focus on her outfit, which…wasn't actually an outfit. She stands across from him, wearing a chrome triangle bikini top with matching bottoms, turning to the side as her entire ass was out due to it being thong styled swimwear. He catches his name that’s tattooed on her hip, coming to the conclusion that there was barely anything covering her if he could see that. 

“It’s sexy as hell,” he replies, “A little too sexy, babydoll.”

“It’s a pool party, Toji. Was I supposed to go in a large shirt?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs.

She rolls her eyes, turning back to the mirror. She sighs, “Maybe I should’ve gotten a one piece. I need to tone up a bit in my stomach, it’s getting a little soft,” she mutters, running her fingers over her abdomen. Toji looked over her body, seeing her abs coming through her upper stomach, trying to figure out what the hell she was going on about.

He turns his head towards her, dropping his phone as he asked, “You need to be fucked in front of that mirror before you go?”

Her eyes go wide as she turns, “No!” 

“ Stop talking about yourself then,” he replies, lifting his phone back up. 

She sighs, knowing that she might be being exaggerative. But every time she stares at herself, she sees the girl that would’ve worn a large T-shirt to a pool party. She wished she could get out of her own head. 

Toji steps out of the ice bath, Sonali catching a glimpse of the monster that hung between his legs, a towel quickly being thrown around his waist before she could put a microscope to him. 

“You look good,” he walks past her, slamming his palm on her ass, “The color goes well with your skin tone.”

He wanted to scream for her to take it off. To stay with him in bed, unable for other men to see the demon of a body she had. He let that thought subside. 

“Even if I wanted some dick, did you forget that I just recently got back on birth control? Today’s the last day before it actually activates,” She reminds.

“I know that. Maybe I want a baby,” he shrugs.

She rolls her eyes, “Please. You have Muffin.”

“Of course I do. Muffin!” He then calls.

The large Cane Corso speeds into the room, attacking him as the dog flops onto the bed. Toji groans happily as he wraps his arms around the animal. 

“My Muffin. You won’t put on a skimpy ass bikini and throw yourself to the wolves, will you?” He sarcastically asks, the dog panting in excitement as he rubs her belly. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you not want me to go?” She comes out of the bathroom, beginning to search for her makeup bag in the closet. She doesn’t hear a response from him as he lays next to Muffin, opening the laptop beside their bed. She comes out from the closet as she says, “Hello?” Raising an eyebrow.

He really doesn’t want to have the conversation of him feeling some type of way about her outfit. He doesn’t want to show his jealousy or insecurities, although it probably would’ve been the better option to do. 

He sighs, “Nah, baby. I want you to have fun. What shoes are you wearing?”

“Nothing too crazy, probably my YSL’s,” she shrugs, “I’m more so worried about my hair and makeup. I’m not getting in that damn pool, too much chlorine and I had a wash day not too long ago!”  

“Maybe those clear heels I bought you will go better with your color scheme.”

“The stripper looking ones?”

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Mmm, okay, fashionista! And here I thought you were just in the shackles of your black long sleeves and sweatpants combo.” 

He chuckles, “I am in the shackles. But forreal, don’t have too much fun. I did tell De’Angelo to come pick you up from work tomorrow, let you get ready and then to bring you to my dressing room before my fight. You'll be there?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Daddy,” she grins, going over to him as she plops herself on his lap, laughing as he groans from the impact. 

She stares over the tattoo along his ribs as he continues to glance over the screen of the computer, his eyebrows peeking up as he then asks, “Why am I getting an email from the neighborhood saying we’ve been reported?”

Sonali pauses. She purses her lips together as she flips off of him, making a whistling noise as she says, “C’mon, Muffin. You’ ready to eat?” 

The dog immediately jumps up as she begins following behind her owner. Toji calmly calls her name, “‘’Nali.”

She lets out a deep breath as she says, “Okay, okay. Fine. Me and Muffin were out on our morning jog a couple of days ago and this guy approached me and asked for my number.”

She sees his face twist up as she then continues, “I told him no and that I was engaged, of course. He kept pressing me, asking about Muffin and why she wasn’t on a leash. I told him she was trained—“

“Why were you still talking to him?”

“…I don’t know? I was being nice.”

“‘The fuck you being nice for?”

She pauses as she hears the slight raise of his voice. Her tone goes soft as she finishes, “He asked if he could shake my hand. I told him no. When he put his hand out anyways, Muffin bit him. I immediately reported it to the office, but I was only in violation of having her off of a leash.” 

“And you’re just telling me this now?” He stands from the bed, Sonali quickly turning into the bathroom as she sees him following behind her, “Muffin should’ve bit his fucking arm off, brought it home to me so I could find his ass and beat the shit out of him with it. He could’ve done anything to you.”

“I know that, Toji. I was fine. I could’ve defended myself if needed—“

“I don’t give a fuck, Sonali,” he calls her by her full name.

He sees her face change, a soft frown coming to her lips. She’s not used to him being upset with her. It’s not that she took advantage of that, she just hated seeing him upset, so it was easier to keep things from him. He runs his fingers over his damp hair, coming towards her as he lifts her onto the bathroom counter.

“You have to tell me when stuff like that happens, baby. God forbid he tried to hurt you and I wasn’t there, I would’ve lost my fucking mind. Please just be careful when taking your daily runs, okay?”

She nods her head, “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry,” she brings her arms around his neck, pulling his forehead to hers as he replies, “I’m not mad.”

“You sure? You’re not gonna go find him and kill him?”

“Imma’ mush his fucking skull in. But I’m not mad at you,” he clarifies.

She rolls her eyes, pushing him away from her as she hops off of the counter, “Mmm, whatever. You’ jealous or something?” She taunts, making her way back out of the bathroom as she retrieves her makeup. He squeezes his fists together as he thinks, maybe, taking another breath as he heads back into the bedroom.

 

                              ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

The night falls on the next day rather quickly. Buzz about the fight goes along the entire city, Sonali watching as De’Angelo pulls up to the front of the building, seeing long lines of men and women—a huge influx of women— chatting excitedly as they hand their tickets to the person within the booth, making their way into the arena. 

She takes D’s hand as he pulls her through the crowd, eyes lightly glaring over her as they jump the line and walk through, Sonali politely thanking anyone working within the building. They guide them upstairs to the second floor, leading them to a door with ‘FUSHIGURO’ aligned in all red. 

“Yeah?” Toji calls out with a slight groan as he hears a knock, his tone sounding slightly exasperated as the fighters focus was on his upcoming match.

Sonali slowly presses the door open as she softly asks, “Can I come in?”

As she slowly opens the door, Toji sits in his full gear along the dressing room sofa. Black mouth piece, compression leggings beneath the black shorts he wears, his name titled along the hem of his bottoms. His tattoos seem to stand out more as he wears darker attire.  Harsh eyes focus in as he talks to Shiu and his coach. That focus slowly dissipates as he looks to the door, a look of shock crossing his face as she enters, quickly gazing over at the barely fitted dress she wears. It was onyx, white lace trimming the top and bottom of the short material. Extremely short. A soft pink bow sits in the middle at the top where her breasts are pushed up, nearly spilling from the fabric, it being thin where everyone can slightly see her brown nipples. To top it all off, it barely covers her ass, the skin jiggling with every movement she makes, clearly ill-fitting as she has to lightly pull it down with every step. She wears the clear tall heels he’d bought her, his leather jacket hung over the entire dress—although that didn’t change how fucking preposterous it was— her usual dark curls now lengthened out in loose waves, small pink bows cascading in her hair. She was fucking gorgeous. Sexy. Edible. Fuckable. Toji wanted to kill her. 

She smiles softly as she sees him while removing the leather jacket, throwing it to the side of the sofa as she presses her knees against the cushions, wrapping her arms around Toji’s neck as she slightly bends down to do so. From across the mirror, Toji catches her pink hello-kitty panties as she bends down, Shiu and De’Angelo also sees this. Everyone can’t help but stare.

“Hi, Shiu. How are you?” She asks. God, this girl was so bad with awareness.

“Uh…I’m good,” he adjusts his suit, the sight of the dress quickly arousing the man without trying to do so. 

Toji’s gaze remained fixated on her as he said nothing. His emotions went from annoyance, to arousal, to complete rage as he now caught the sight of the other two men.

“You need me to glue your eyes back into your head? Or better yet, rip them out of your eye sockets all in one? Get the fuck out,” he spits to both of them. 

Both Shiu and De’Angelo practically run out, Sonali frowning softly as she asks, “What’s wrong?”

He runs his hand over his face as he stands from the sofa, throwing his mouthguard onto the mirror dresser. He had a lot—repeat—a lot of patience with Sonali. Her naivety to dangerous situations, the way she dressed, the way she smiled in the attention of any man without realizing what she was doing. But this had to be his icing on the cake. 

He drops his hand from his face as he finally speaks, “What in the actual fucking hell—are you wearing, Sonali?”

She blinks. Standing from the sofa as she comes behind him, laughing uncomfortably as she sarcastically mutters, “A dress? What else would it b—“

“Do you see me laughing? Do I look like a fucking joke to you?”

Her mouth clasps closed as he comes inches away from her face, hovering over her smaller frame. She ducks back a bit as she puts together that he’s entirely serious. Shit.

“You bought this for me, Toji.”

He smacks his lips, actually finding something funny in that. “Nah. I didn’t buy that, I just paid for it. I would’ve never let you have a dress like that had I seen you try it on, don’t be fucking stupid.”

Stupid?

“Stupid?” She looks around, “Who the fuck are you talking to?” She comes even closer to his face, ducking down as she squints, “Wanna rewind? Clearly you’ve lost your mind.”

“Damn right I’ve lost my mind. I’m talking to my fiance who decided to come to my fight wearing half of her fucking outfit!” He exclaims, “This is my first time seeing you today. God fuckin’ knows where else else you’ve been in this stupid ass dress!” 

“I was at work!” She fired back, “Which you should know, you keep De’Angelo chained to me like he’s my fucking babysitter!” 

“I wouldn’t have to hire a babysitter if you weren’t such a goddamn child, Sonali. Just no fuckin’ awareness to any situation! First it was you not making a big deal out of the fact that some motherfucker in the neighborhood damn near attempted to assault you, now this! Things happen to women too fucking fast. I can’t protect you if I’m not around, or I don’t know what happened! That’s why you have De’Angelo. But none of this even matters if you wanna make shit harder by walking around dressed like a fuckin’ slut!” 

She jerked back at his words. Her eyes went slightly wide, immediately feeling as they filled with hot, angry tears. She hadn’t felt this type of rage in so long. The only other time she’d felt like this, her fist was plummeted within a woman’s face. She felt disrespected, hurt by his words. 

“You know how long it took me to even be able to wear a t-shirt without sleeves? Anything that showed my stomach? Any part of my body, really. This was my fear. To be judged. But I didn’t think it would be by the person who got me out of my shell in the first place,” she spoke with a depth, wanting him to hear every word, tears dropping mindlessly down her face. 

His anger softened for a moment as he heard her words. Realizing the things he said, he knew he couldn’t take them back. His biggest fear was hurting this woman in a way he couldn’t repair, and hitting her in her biggest insecurities definitely was a way to do that. He watches as she presses her hands over her face, masking her tears as she holds in her cries, finally releasing as she trembles out a soft sob. She quickly turns away from him, beelining for the door.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “Babydoll. I’m—“

It all happened so fast. When he reached for her wrist, she turned towards him, rapidly swinging her right fist forward as it plunged into the middle of his stomach, Toji unable to block her hit as her left fist painfully knocked into his jaw. He stumbled back as he caught himself against the mirror. His eyes immediately went down to her left fist, seeing the blood along her knuckles, finger bare of her ring. Even as pissed as he was, he still knew everything about her. Of course she removed her ring to prove just how lethal her left hand was. 

He stared at her, the anger from earlier washing over his entire body. He wasn’t just angry now. He was pissed. He spat against the floor, watching as a pool of blood dropped from his mouth, looking over to the mirror to see she’d punched directly on a previous scar. She knew it was wrong to become violent with him— she figured she just wanted to do something to hurt him as well. 

“That’s how you do that move,” she sneered, placing her ring back on her finger. 

The door then opens as Shiu enters, seeing the scene in front of him. Sonali’s fists grip under her fingers, hands still shaking as she only focused on Toji who stared evilly back at her. 

“We’re up, Fushiguro—“

Shiu grunts as Sonali bumps his shoulder, flying past him. His eyes go back to Toji as he says, “Should I ask what happened?”

Toji says nothing. In silence, he turns back towards the mirror as he looks for his mouth guard, only saying, “Bring me my gloves.” 

She felt like she was gonna have an anxiety attack, leaning against the wall outside of the dressing room as she held her chest, feeling all of her emotions that she buried down returning. They had their disagreements, but this had to be one of the worst. The way he spoke to her, her reaction to his words. She felt regretful. She wanted to apologize, she hoped that he was apologetic as well. 

She clears her eyes of tears as she can hear the rumble of chaos coming from downstairs, hearing as they call his name through the speakers in the arena. Pulling herself together as she turned the corner where De’Angelo stood, gripping his hand as she pulled him forward, “Let’s go.”

Anytime she came to his show, she had a front row seat directly across from the ring. This time she wished she was in the nosebleeds. She sits next to De’Angelo who stares everywhere but her, noticing how her eyes stay along her legs, adjusting herself uncomfortably in her dress. 

“Mr. Fushiguro told me to give you this, he knew you would be cold,” He says, handing her the leather jacket she previously wore earlier. 

“He said that?” She asks.

“…Yes ma’am,” he replies softly, watching as she slowly takes the jacket from him. 

He helps her put the jacket over her shoulders, her eyes coming upward as everyone around her cheers. An uproar goes along the building as Toji appears in the ring. She sees that his scar is healing faster than she expected, a small hint of relief coming from her at that. Usually he would wink at her before any match she came to, this time, she assumed he would keep his head in the opposite direction. But no. He turns, looking directly at her as he winks. She frowns.

“May I say something, Sonali?” 

She’s taken out of her thoughts as she turns to De’Angelo. She sighs, “Are you about to ‘dad’ me right now?”

“You need it. I’m old enough to be your father. God rest his soul,” he speaks, Sonali crossing her arms over her chest, feeling a ball forming in her throat. 

“Both of you were wrong for the way you handled that situation. But he should’ve expressed that in a different way. My daughter would’ve been hung on a flagpole by this goddamn dress. But you’re grown, I can’t tell you what you shouldn’t wear. The ultimate issue is you also shouldn’t have hit him, even if you know he can take a punch. You just need to apologize to each other. And quickly, when y’all are fighting it fucks up my chakras.”

Sonali turns her eyes to him, unable to help but softly laugh. She sighs, “I don’t like you sometimes.”

“I’m your babysitter, remember? You’re not supposed to.”

As she brings her eyes back to the ring, she sees they’d already begun. It was always a nervous time for her to watch him fight. But she also knew that he was fast, and his strength was terrifying. He patiently awaits for his opponent to make the first move, the opponent ducking down, Toji quickly moving out of the way as he sends a devastating hook to the man’s face, flying him backwards against the ring. The crowd goes wild, the referee having to step in as Toji continues swinging his gloves along the man’s face, probably knocking all of his thoughts out of his head. He’s agile, knowing immediately which part of the man’s body he wants to connect with next, giving him no room to defend himself. She could feel his anger pooling off of his body, fists throwing various strikes, the opponent panting as he gets in a few hits himself, Toji immediately blocking them. 

It was one second as she watched his opponent give him a good hit to the face, Sonali cringing as she shut her eyes, leaning her elbows on her legs as she muttered, “Fuck. C’mon, baby.”

Regardless of how they felt about one another right now, she was here. He had her support. He doesn’t show any sign of fatigue, even after that good strike against his chin. Her eyes scatter along their moving bodies, Sonali never expecting as Toji dips down with his right fist, punching the man within the airway of his stomach, coming back up as he strikes him within the left side of his jaw, his body dropping down to the ring floor. Chaos goes along the audience. Sonali’s unable to hold the relieved smile that comes along her face, De’Angelo clapped as she cheered at the succession of him achieving that movement. His team patted his muscular arms and shoulders, pulling him back down to give him time to breath. A countdown went along the room as his opponent still hadn't gotten up. When Sonali thought this would all be over, the opponent struggles as he stands, either crazy or just plain stupid as he’s ready for another round.

She frowns as they call for a thirty-minute break, the opponent complaining about how Toji commited a “foul,” claiming he’d kicked him a couple of times. Sonali rolls her eyes, leaning back against her seat as both opponents leave the ring, scurrying back to their dressing rooms. 

“Mr. Fushiguro requests that you come back to his dressing room.”

Her eyebrows furrow, “Right now? I’m sure Shiu doesn’t want me distracting him.”

“I’m just telling you what Shiu told me. Don’t get me in trouble again,” he reminds, Sonali chuckling as she replies, “I’m going.”

Making her way back upstairs, she feels herself become nervous. She wants to find the correct words to have this conversation with him, hoping that he’s in the same headspace as she is. 

“You’re not coming in?” She asks De’Angelo who stands on the opposite side of the door.

“No ma’am,” he starts firmly.

She raises an eyebrow at that, muttering, “Uh, okay.”

She pushes the door open as she makes her way inside, preparing herself for the amount of adrenaline she’s sure he carries from the fight. She expects to see Shiu and his coach in there speaking to him, seeing as he stands across from the mirror by himself, carefully unwrapping the bandages on his fingers. 

She blows out a breath, “Toji—“

“Come here.”

Once she enters the dressing room, she can immediately hear his heavy breathing. He says this as he doesn’t turn to look at her—His tone was clear for her to listen. 

She slowly comes forward, standing a couple of inches  away from him as she says, “I want us to talk—“

“On your knees,” he calmly interrupts, eyes still not upon hers as he finishes unraveling the last bit of his bandages. Her heart thuds in her chest as she hears this, seeing as he now turns his face towards her. He was completely serious. 

“Now?” She asks.

“Now.”

She still stands in confusion. He becomes impatient, gripping her firmly by her hair, pulling her down as her knees come to the floor. Her eyes only watch him, becoming almost doe like, body becoming infinitely aroused as she awaited for his next command.

“You want my dick in your mouth, don’t you?”

Her mouth waters at the thought. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, but she nods her head nonetheless.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” 

He grips her hair tighter, using his other hand as he pulls out his length from under his boxers, veiny and large as it stands across from her face. 

She nods her head, correcting herself as she says softly, “…Yes, Daddy.”

“Good.”

He pulls her jaw open, forcing himself past her lips as he knocks into the back of her throat, pulling her down by her hair as her mouth makes contact with his hips. Sonali moans as she opens her mouth wider, choking out a cough which sends vibrations throughout Toji’s body. He grunts as he watches her, Sonali drooling more each time she pulls her mouth back to his tip, swirling her tongue on the inside of her cheek. She keeps her face upwards, looking straight into his as he leans his head down, eyes blown with lust. 

“You see that?” He asks, digging his fingers within the scalp of her hair, moving his hips rhythmically into her mouth, creating a wet noise with each connection. 

“This fuckin’ mouth of yours. Imma’ make a mess of your fuckin’ throat. It’s mine,” he tells her. She hums at that, feeling her jaw slightly burning, spit running down the sides of her mouth as she twists her head, falling deeper within the trap of his words. It gets to a point where she barely does any movement herself, her throat full as he slams into the back of it, eyes becoming watery as he doesn’t plan to be gentle with her.

He finally relaxes as he pulls her back, Sonali breathing heavily within her chest as she runs her tongue over her lips. Toji tilts his head, “So fuckin’ needy, aren’t you? You want more?”

She nods her head, feeling her nipples hardening at his words as he gently smacks his palm against her cheek, “Say you want more. Use your words.”

“I want more,” she says quietly.

“Louder.”

“I want more, please,” she raises her voice a bit more.

He then pulls her up by her hair again, pushing her against the mirror dresser as her back is now against it, legs spread widely as her knees fall along the black marble. She shivers at the coldness of it, feeling as Toji scoots her down towards him, pulling her panties to the side as he attaches his mouth to her clit. He immediately moaned at the taste of her. She shudders at the cold feeling of his tongue-ring, bringing her eyes down as she watches him circle his head slowly in between her legs, bringing his tongue in a dreadful up and down motion as he spreads her legs wider, holding her down by both legs as he makes out with her opening. Sonali presses her hands to the back of her knees, raising her head as she watches.

“Yeah, baby. That’s it,” she moans, “Eat my pussy just like that,” she talks, shuddering out a whine as he spanks the skin of her ass beneath them. She raises her head fully to look at him, pushing her hand through his hair to look within his eyes that don’t come up to hers.

“Baby…look at me,” she asks softly.

He grunts at her voice, never fulfilling her request. It frustrates her. Diving his tongue deeper into her, he motions his head back and forth, Sonali biting her lip to hold back her dazed smile. She continues to speak to him, “That’s so fucking good, Daddy,” she whimpers, “Fuck my pussy with your tongue. I love that.”

He became annoyed with her talking, not eating her out for the sake of her pleasure. He was simply preparing her body for the way he was about to fuck her. On the other hand, her voice was like a drug he couldn’t stop withdrawing from, feminine and soft as she whined, spreading her legs wider and dipping his tongue deeper with each word. It was like lighting a fire in hell, knowing how aroused she could make him by just speaking.

“Here, let me help you,” she says, gripping his hair as she raises his mouth from her clit, slowly placing it back down as his lips create a suctioning noise from that. Sonali grinds herself against his mouth, watching as Toji moves his tongue all around her core, going back down to her opening as he fully pushes his tongue inside, fucking her as she asked. She becomes more wet from that, gushing out each time he removes his mouth just for a second, shoving right back in. She giggles sultrily, twisting her head to the side as she watches. Her head falls against the black marble of the dresser, back arching as she whimpers, “Don’t stop. I’m gonna squirt all over your fucking mouth, baby. Just the way you like it. Just the way you want me to, okay? I promise.” 

His entire body inflames at her words, standing up fully as he keeps a hold of her panties with his other hand, dropping his tip along her clit as it smushes arousingly against it. He mutters, “Hold your legs up,” Sonali doing so as he takes a hold of her ankles. She leans her head back against the dresser again, grunting slightly as he’s already pushing his tip inside her, taking that hand as he lifts her head, “Nah. You’re gonna watch me go inside you. Take every fuckin’ inch of this dick.” 

Her legs tremble as he fills her, her mouth going agape as she watches all of him being swallowed by her opening. An intense pinch is within her abdomen as she closes her eyes, whimpering deeply in her throat. Her body feels complete, regardless of how big he actually was, no matter how long he ate her out for—she couldn’t handle him.

“Oh my godd…” she quivers, moaning loudly as she tightens around him, Toji spanking her as he demands, “Open my pussy. I’m gonna ruin you. You’ll love every second of it.”

She’s unable to reply, her voice lost as he slowly pulls back, somehow going deeper when he pushes all the way in. An influx of curses leave her mouth, Toji’s hand moving from her hair to her lips, shoving his fingers into her mouth as he grits out, “Watch your mouth.”

He pulls her by the bite of her teeth, the back of her thighs dirtily clapping with his hips, Toji taking the hand that’s still around her ankle as he brings his thumb to her clit, rubbing in circles to relax her. Sonali closes her eyes, in a high state of mind almost, vision rolling to the back of her head as she moans dumbly, intelligence thrown out the window with each thrust. 

“This fuckin’ dress,” he growls, pulling it up her hips as it now almost looked to be a shirt. His actions are a mix of lust and frustration. Nonetheless, he’s unable to hold back his desires and feelings as he grabs a hold of her hips, shoving her down to meet his body. He watched every reaction she gave. He was clearly still pissed off, but the way she looked up to him with her eyes, her mouth sucking his fingers deeper into her throat as she moaned, whined and writhed beneath him, it didn’t help in the slightest. He wanted to tear the entire dress apart. He brings his hand back down, spanking her ass again, this time leaving a bruise. 

“You think I want every man in this building to see my woman? I think you like it when I’m mad. Shit turns you on,” he grunts, Sonali jumping as he continuously spanks her. 

“I…Toji…” she softly cries, wanting to reach her hand to his. He takes her hand, roughly placing it back behind her knee as he says, “Hold your legs. Shut the fuck up.”

Her mouth closes as she whimpers, lightly grazing her teeth against his fingers as he shoves them within her throat. All she can do is watch. She tries to hold herself together, wanting to adjust her body as she’s trapped in a position where she feels every…single…thrust. Her eyes tear away from his, more curses releasing from her lips as he immediately smacks her cheek at that, moving her face away from his hand as she whines, “Fuckk, baby.” 

“You love it, I know,” he becomes irritated, “Daddy’s always gonna fuck you like this. You’re wet as fuck,” he continues, her thighs smacking into his skin, she hiccups as she nods, “I love being fucked like this. Don’t stop, don’t stop. Don’t stoppp,” she can’t stop whining, becoming more wet with her own words. Toji can’t help but moan in response, slowly slipping from the mask of anger he wears. 

The mirror knocks into the wall, Toji bringing his hand back into her hair as he pulls her head backwards, forcing her to look at herself. 

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, babydoll. Look at yourself,” he talks, Sonali’s eyes closing as she speaks, “Stop it.”

“Believe me. You’re pretty as fuck, baby. Never seen a woman more beautiful. Even in this stupid ass dress,” he grunts.

Sonali can feel herself becoming emotional at his words, a mix of pleasure also collecting in her eyes as tears begin to form. She moans, voice shaky as she replies, “You don’t mean that…” 

“I mean every word, ‘Nali. Never loved a woman more than I love your pretty ass. Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he tilts her head more, Sonali lifting her eyes to show her attentiveness. She can see from the mirror as he holds her other leg by the ankle, nearly lifting her hips off of the marble as he drops them down onto his length, Sonali whining loudly as he continues to speak, “Look at my wife. My fuckin’ wife.” 

She cries softly at his words, closing her eyes as she pulls them away from the mirror. He keeps going, “So fuckin’ sorry, babydoll…”

She ignores him, moaning softly as he removes himself from her and brings his lips down to her clit, sucking and swirling his tongue against the throbbing in between her legs. She holds his hair in her hands, body becoming immensely tired from his movements. Toji was the opposite. He was only getting started. 

She inhales as he then wraps his arms around her waist, picking her up as he then brings them over to the sofa, sitting himself back against the furniture as he sits her against his lap. 

He kisses her shoulders, gradually moving up to her throat as he drags his tongue against the skin. Her body shivers from the jewelry in his mouth, always adding an extra touch of pleasure to anything she was feeling. It was a soft touch, but it was enough to make her react. That reaction made him want to keep going. He touches her face as she looks down to him, he thinks she looks adorable, then confidently pulling her face forward as he kissed her. It was always warm, his mouth completely hot against hers. She immediately relaxed into the kiss. They stopped all of their other movements as they were only focused on kissing each other, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed him deeper, an assertiveness coming out from him as he pulled her down, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, allowing Sonali to catch it each time it entered past her lips.

She wasn't sure why her face became slightly warm at his sudden sweetness. Instead of telling him what she wanted, she pulled his lips to her throat as she wanted him to kiss there again, feeling as Toji chuckled at that. She felt the coldness of the piercing return, his hands sliding down to her ass as he squeezed. She gripped his neck, lightly whimpering as he placed his tongue back in her mouth, legs wanting to squeeze shut as she could feel herself becoming aroused even more.

Her body trembles almost embarrassingly. He goes from kissing her to dragging his tongue along her neck. She hides her face within his shoulder as she lightly speaks against his ear, “I want you…” she says softly.

He lets out a soft grunt of satisfaction when he hears her  words, smiling as he keeps kissing her on the neck, not being too aggressive, keeping it going at a decent pace. 

“You want me, huh?” He teases.

“Yes,” she admits, nodding her head, face completely red. Her breath hitches as he firmly grips her face, pointing her eyes to his as he speaks, “Repeat that to me.”

“I…I want you,” she repeated again, flustered at his aggression.

“Say it louder. Mean it. Tell Daddy you wanna show him how much you love this dick,” he taunts her. 

“Baby, please,” she begs, “Don’t be mean,” she pouts. She went to protest again, her mind swarming as he roughly pulled her panties to the side of her ass, holding the thin material. Her mind goes numb as he slightly lifts her up with his other hand, sinking her down onto his length. Her mouth drops open, eyes falling to his as she whines, dropping her face within his shoulder again as she could hear him ask, “What was that?”

His voice sounds more gruff than usual, "Was that a complaint?"

“No…I…fuck,” she curses, unable to finish her sentence as a moan broke through her lips, her arms relaxing around his neck as he picks her up, dropping her back down on his hips. Her eyes nearly roll to the back of her head at the feeling, thighs trembling in response. She couldn’t stop gasping, biting her lip to stop the sounds. She became more aroused with each movement, hips plummeting together as she held onto him, whimpering along his ear. 

“I’m waiting for you to show me,” he spanks her, Sonali jumping in response. 

She feels her muscles weakening, body becoming sore as she places her hands along his hard stomach, lifting her hips as she slowly brings them back down, moaning softly at the pleasure she feels from doing so. He watches her with hooded eyes, leaning back along the sofa as he only keeps his hands along her back, allowing her to fuck herself. 

“F—feels so good…” she repeats, circling her hips down, moving her hair out of her face as she becomes hot. 

He was enthralled by her beauty. Her hair was messy around her face, makeup slightly messy as she continued to dig her teeth into her lip. But as his eyes traveled down, his anger began creeping back up as he stared over this damn dress, seeming this caused their entire issue in the first place.

“Let me show you.”

He suddenly places his arms under thighs, lifting her up on his lap as she’s now half-way in the air, Toji bringing her up, slamming her back down, bouncing her against his hips in a way that it caused her to shout. She nearly feels this man in her stomach. She becomes incoherent, Toji arrogantly chuckling as he talks to her with every bounce, “Fuck, baby. Look at you, you’re creaming’,” watching as her arousal appears more on his length with each raise of her hips as he continues talking to her, “This is how I want you. I wanna see you cry,” he keeps going, ignoring the squelching of her opening, Sonali sobbing mercilessly atop of him. 

“Tell me how you feel,” he asks.

“I feel so good, so good, so good,” she cries, “Ungh, babbyy.” 

“I know, babydoll,” he coos mockingly, “Keep taking my shit so well,” he’s relentless, bringing his hips up to meet the movement he causes, snapping upward to hit her deepest spots.

Sonali places her hand on his leg, leveraging as she begins meeting his rhythm, coming back down onto him as she grinds, “Yes, baby. I love your dick….So much…so fucking much,” she softly cries, barely able to get the words out, “Why are you fucking me like this…”

“‘Cause you asked for it.”

He continues moving his hips with her on top, pressing her down more and more. He slows down, keeping them stationary so that she could feel everything that he’s giving to her, allowing her to experience the moment fully. He takes his hand against her throat, now using that to tug her down, grunting as he feels himself cumming. It happened before he realized, Sonali keeping her eyes closed as a warmth filled her body, trapped in his hold as she continued to drop down on his thighs. Her body could barely take anymore, a feeling of relief almost washing over her at his release. 

“Baby, I—“

“I know.” 

He pulls out of her, twisting her around so she’s now laid on his lap with her back pressed to his chest. He rubs his hands along her body, squeezing her breast within his hand as he drags his fingers down her stomach, placing both of her legs against each side of his so they’re spread open. Her eyes face the mirror across from them, feeling her face going warm at the sight of them together. He takes his other hand as he places it on her throat, fingers by her inner thigh traveling over to her clit, beginning to rub in circles.

She places her hand along his face as he looks down to her, continuing to rub her clit as she begs, “Kiss me.”

He does. He places his mouth over hers, the both of them dirtily wrapping their tongues around one another, Sonali moaning as his fingers gently trail over her core, rubbing the area in a way that had her feening for more. She lightly raises her hips up, Toji chuckling within her mouth as he feels her become more wet.

“Look at you. My pretty babydoll,” he compliments against her lips, “I’m sorry, baby. I was mean to you, wasn’t I?”

The hand that’s gently against his face begins lightly gripping his jaw as he rubs his fingers faster, whimpering as she nods her head. She attempts to kiss him, her mouth staying agape as he spreads her opening, rubbing one finger directly along her clit. 

“I hate this fuckin’ dress,” he groans, “Hate that you look so fuckin’ sexy in it. Hate that other eyes see what’s mine.”

“‘M sorry, baby,” she whimpered against his mouth. 

“But they’ll never get to see you like this, will they?”

Her mouth drops open again as he takes his index and middle finger, sinking them inside of her, slowly pulling them out halfway as he sunk them back in. He continued this, pulling her head upwards as she was back to the mirror.

“Crying all over my dick, now crying from my fingers. But you want more,” he moans, feeling his fingers being pulled back inside of her, wanting more. Needing more. 

“Squirt on my fingers, baby. Wanna see all of you,” he begs, whimpering himself, “Please.” 

Sonali trembles at his words, gripping his neck as she cries, her entire body shuddering as she listens to him slam his fingers within her, soaking the sofa with her arousal. He sticks his tongue in her mouth, laughing arrogantly as she orgasms, writhing against him as she screams. She can’t stop screaming, sobbing out his name as her hips tremble with each thrust of his hand. 

“So fucking beautiful. I love you,” he grunts, smashing his lips to hers, “Tell me you fuckin’ love me.”

“I love you so much, Toji,” Sonali cries, her entire body shaking as she continues to orgasm. He holds her as she calms her breathing, her body still trembling as he passionately kisses her again. She’d never felt this much need and desire from him in a while, accepting his kiss as he spanked her opening, laughing within her mouth as she whined, “Stop it.”

“I’m done. I promise,” he chuckles, picking her up so she cradles within his lap. He moves her hair out of her face, gripping her chin as he sees her makeup running down her face, tears still blinking within her eyes. 

“You okay?” He softly asks, still feeling her body shuddering, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, babydoll.” 

“I’m fine, Toji. Don’t get all sensitive and worrisome,” she brushes him off, wiping her face. 

“I didn’t mean anything about the sex. I fucked you stupid, I know you like that,” he says, her face going warm as he continues, “I’m saying in general. I’m really sorry about what I said. I’d never wanna hurt you in that way. I was just…”

He takes a deep breath, “Jealous.”

She frowns, “Jealous?”

“Babydoll, we’ve been together for years. I’ve seen you grow in more ways than one. To be at your full potential and the attention you get from it…it scares me, it scares me that I won’t be enough for you. You’ll continue to grow. The dress just kinda mixed together with the other insecurities I was facing,” he admits.

She sees the vulnerability within his face, pulling her forehead to his as she speaks, “No other man is comparable to you. You’re my heart. Please know that,” she states. 

He smiles weakly at her words, kissing her cheek as she continues, “But I have some apologizing to do as well. I should’ve never put my hands on you, no matter how upset I was. And…maybe the dress was a bit much,” she mutters to herself.

“I deserved it. I was a dick. And honestly, I don’t care what you wear, baby. I know you’re gonna come home to me with that damn outfit on. I’ll buy you a thousand of these dresses, fuck you in every single one of them,” he promises, making her giggle as he tickles her with his lips along her neck. 

“Maybe I can buy them in mediums next time,” she suggests. 

“We can always do the big t-shirt idea,” he also suggests. 

She then rolls her eyes, standing from his lap as he pulls the dress down to her upper thighs, a knock coming along the door as a voice shouts, “You’re late, Fushiguro! Round two!” 

“You should go,” she reminds, placing the leather jacket over her body as she zips it up halfway, covering the rest of the dress from the bottom. She looks to Toji’s eyes as she sees an amusement in them, glaring as she says, “Don’t say anything.”

“Wasn’t gonna. Until you zipped it up. I must’ve really punished your ass, huh? You’ sore?”

“I’m leaving,” she mutters, making her way to the door. “Maybe I will buy those dresses all in a small. Just to spite you!” 

“You’ need another reminder? ‘Cause I can really wear your ass out—“

“No,” she replies, sticking her tongue out, shrieking as he steps forward to grab her. 

He then grabs for his gloves and mouthguard, winking at her as she sticks her middle finger up, making her way back downstairs to watch him fight.

“That’s what I thought.” 

[hgfictionwriter]

Discovery: Part Two

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie's nervous about a date at your apartment. Despite enjoying the evening and a chance to talk, she's left with lingering doubts about how to handle your evolving relationship.

Warnings: G!P content. Body image issues or even dysphoria; mental and emotional anxiety; internal conflicts; themes of self-acceptance. Reluctant gaslighting??

A/N: Thank you all for the interest in this piece. Still heavy on the angst here. Things will move more significantly in the next chapter. First chapter is here.

"Hey, for Saturday I was thinking of making us reservations at that new place on Greenwood. What do you think?"

"That sounds nice. But I was thinking maybe you could just come over instead. I'll make us dinner. We've been going out a lot and while it's fun to check out new places and it's sweet of you to plan all these dates, I miss our chill nights in."

A pit formed in Jessie's stomach upon reading your message. It was inevitable, really. You two couldn't have an entire relationship outside of your apartments. In fact, this whole going out every week thing was draining for her, but it was the lesser evil compared to hanging out at either of your places and what would, eventually, follow.

She ran a hand through her hair with a sigh.

"Yeah, sure. That's fine." She paused, staring at the message before exhaling in frustration. What a lackluster response. She deleted it.

What you were offering was legitimately what she wanted. She had the most fun when it was just you two, relaxed and in the comfort of your own homes. Just, now, there would be nothing relaxing about it. It would be coded with all sort of hints and allusions to something more now that you were dating. That tentative dance of will you, won't you, and when.

"That sounds great. What do you want me to bring?"

"Just yourself 😉"

Her shoulders slumped with a sigh. She should be excited. Instead, her mind ran rampant with thoughts and scenarios, each one more concerning than the last.

Through the rest of the week, she couldn't quite shake that weight in the pit of her stomach. Sometimes she forgot about it, but as soon as she had space to think or rest, worry came rushing back.

"Still want me to come over?"

Jessie hit send though she was standing at her bike already, helmet on and ready to go. And it's not like she wanted you to cancel. She really wanted to see you, but she was so torn.

"Yes lol. Of course I do. Been looking forward to it all week!"

Her chest panged and another text came through.

"Do you want to do something else?"

Now she really felt bad.

"No, no. Just checking. Just about to hop on my bike. I'll be over soon, then 😊"

"Sounds good. Ride safe."

Jessie's heart was racing as she shifted anxiously from one foot to the next as she rode the elevator up to your apartment. She looked down at the bouquet of flowers she picked up along the way and shook out a hand as she let her head fall back and she stared vacantly up at the ceiling.

"Calm down," she said to herself.

Soon, she stood tentatively in front of your door, hand poised to knock. She stood there frozen for a second before she brought her knuckles to the door. She fidgeted with the straps of her helmet and the paper around the bouquet as she waited.

A few seconds later the door opened to reveal your smiling face. Despite how she was feeling a second ago, the veil of worry that weighed on her dissipated upon seeing you. She couldn't help but smile back.

"Come in," you said cheerfully as you waved her inside before your eyes fell to the flowers. Distracted by seeing you, Jessie momentarily forgot about them and glanced down to follow your gaze.

"Oh," she voiced in belated realization before she smiled brightly and held them out. "For you."

You gave a wide smile and took them from her, smelling them and smiling once more before wrapping her up in a hug.

Her grip around you was slack to begin with, but when you held her tightly she found herself reciprocating. Her chest tightened as she held you close; she really missed you and it was a relief to hold you in her arms again. She felt herself relaxing a touch.

When you pulled your head away from her, you two locked eyes.

"I missed you," you said. Jessie felt a small blush forming and she gave you a coy smile.

"I missed you, too."

Her eyes closed as you gently closed in and soon your lips were on hers. It was chaste and sweet, but it sent a shiver down her spine and she couldn't help smiling into the kiss. Her heart warmed as she opened her eyes to see you smiling affectionately at her as your hand came to her cheek and gave her other a peck.

"Okay, let's get inside. And thank you for these, they're beautiful," you said as you ushered her in and closed the door. "Gosh. It feels like you haven't been over in ages. I guess you haven't - not since we started dating."

"Yeah," Jessie agreed with a faint laugh as she scratched the back of her head, nervousness starting to creep back in. She tried to remain relaxed as you stood close to her.

"Make yourself at home. Dinner should be ready soon."

Jessie followed you with her eyes as you returned to the kitchen and found a home for the flowers. She was lost in her thoughts before shaking her head out.

"Can I help with anything?"

You looked around briefly with the cutest frown on your face before giving a shrug.

"I guess you can get some plates and cutlery out."

She did so, carefully laying everything out before returning to the kitchen and standing awkwardly waiting for further instructions.

"Go sit down," you laughed as you shooed her away.

"No, let me help you," she insisted, a smile finding its way onto her lips, your mannerisms infectious.

You placed your hands on your hips and cocked your head at her. "Fine. Go get me these things," you unlocked your phone and handed it to her with a recipe on screen. You nodded to the pantry cupboard. "The shaker's in there. I saw this on a mixology account I follow and wanted to make us some tonight."

"Oh," Jessie voiced as she looked at the drink recipe. "Tequila?"

"Don't tell me you're scared of a shot of tequila," you teased lightly. "I thought some of you varsity athletes partied hard - especially in LA."

"Yeah, some," she emphasized as she scanned the cupboard for the items.

"You don't have to drink anything if you don't want to," you added. She gave you a fleeting look over her shoulder before returning with the supplies.

"It's fine," she said. "I'll try it."

It's not that she never drank, she enjoyed a relaxing beverage as much as the next person, but alcohol seemed like a dangerous thing given her current circumstances. However, perhaps it would take the edge off.

She started measuring out ingredients into the shaker and sealed it before shaking it all together. You looked back and gave her a not-so-subtle look of appreciation as your eyes fell to her biceps. You even reached out and gave her nearest arm a brief squeeze.

"Oh," you said with a quick raise of your eyebrows, a hint of a smile at the corner of your mouth before you turned away. Jessie blushed under your attention.

"For you," she announced after she poured out the drinks and handed you your glass.

She smiled softly as you cheers each other and took a sip. You both immediately winced and she started coughing at the overwhelming taste of alcohol.

"Shit," Jessie coughed, her eyes started to water.

You burst into laughter, but took another tentative sip.

"They are not joking with these drinks. Either that or you're heavy handed," you teased.

"I measured!" She insisted.

The drink certainly took the edge off for Jessie. By the time you were done dinner and settled into watching a movie together, her body was void of tension and her head still felt a bit light.

It wasn't long before fleeting pangs of concern started to edge in though. You two had watched shows and hung out on the couch together before, that wasn't the big deal, but as Jessie became acutely aware of your hand brushing up against hers, she found herself fidgeting lightly. She cleared her throat.

She tried to view you out of the corner of her eye and got the sense you were doing the same. Eventually, you took charge and slipped your fingers between hers, giving her hand a light squeeze. She turned and gave you a tight smile that caused your cheeks to grow flush.

While you'd both been quietly watching the movie, now you started to talk - making comments about the movie or other things. She responded softly as you chatted, cluing in that you were nervous and trying to distract to some degree. Soon, your clasped hands were resting on Jessie's thigh as you leaned into her, eventually resting your head on her shoulder.

Her heart started to pound with increasing intensity in her chest. She cursed inwardly. This shouldn't be a big fucking deal. She wanted to cuddle with you. She wanted to put her arm around you and pull you close. But it was the possibility of what would follow that had her wary.

She completely lost track of the movie, fully preoccupied with what to do. She was so conflicted. You drew small circles on her thigh and at one point laid a soft kiss on her shoulder. She cast her worries aside and lifted her arm to wrap around your shoulders. A rush of affection went through her as she caught the smile on your face as you cuddled in.

If she hadn't forgotten about the movie earlier, it was certainly forgotten now as you grew more handsy. Jessie tried to not appear affected, but her body was so tense in apprehension; she just didn't know how to relax.

When your lips suddenly made soft, sweet contact with her neck. Her free hand dug into the underside of her leg as she fought to remain indifferent. Your lips were sensual and teasing, your breath hot on her neck and she could feel sensations building within her and threatening to spill over. When your tongue grazed the sensitive skin of her neck she instinctively jerked away, fully breaking away from the embrace. She'd done it before she even realized it. An apologetic frown etched onto her face already before even seeing you.

That pit in her stomach hit deeper than ever when she saw the hurt and embarrassed look on your face, even if it was just for a second before you quickly masked it.

"Sorry," you said with a forced smile and a breathy laugh.

"No, I-" Jessie stammered, struggling to find her words. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess and she could just picture the pathetic look she was giving you. You forced another chuckle and tucked your hair behind your ear self-consciously.

"No, no. I'm sorry. Must be that heavy pour," you faintly joked, forcing a fleeting look. You straightened your posture and seemed to recenter yourself. You looked to her, earnest. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have pushed. I think I just-" you paused, collecting your thoughts, "I think I just thought you were being, I don't know, really...chivalrous? Or just shy. I don't know." Your face fell briefly before offering her a brave, half-hearted smile. "You clearly want to take it slow, and I should respect that. I do respect that."

Jessie turned to you, shifting on the couch to face you more fully.

"Hey, don't apologize. Seriously. It's completely okay," she assured you. You looked far from comforted, so she reached out and took your hands. Your grip was nearly non-existent until she gave you a squeeze and you mustered up a soft smile and squeezed back.

"Y-yeah, I do want to take things slow, and it doesn't help that I'm super awkward and shy," she said self-deprecatingly. "But please don't feel bad. I'm just...I'm awkward."

You made a slight face at her.

"I made you uncomfortable," you countered.

"I liked it," Jessie said, and it was absolutely true. "I just," she looked away briefly as she found her words, "I just want you to know that I'm interested in more than just physical with you." That wasn't a lie either.

You frowned deeply and your mouth quirked up in a smirk. "I think I sorted that out," you said somewhat flatly. You seemed to contemplate your words, choosing to move forward. "You know. After going on five dates and having barely kissed."

Jessie could feel her face start to heat up and her mouth felt dry. While she struggled to figure out what to say, you scratched at the back of your neck and spoke further.

"I don't know. Maybe it's in my head. You seem less comfortable with me now than before we started dating." You relaxed your shoulders, taking a breath as you sat straight and gave her an earnest smile. "I really like you, Jessie. And I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, at all, so. If there's something I'm doing that's making you feel like that - you know, other than trying to make out with you unprompted-" you rolled your eyes, "please tell me. I don't want to push you away."

Jessie's jaw was clenched hard and she didn't realize her fingers were digging into her palms. She hated that she was making you feel this way and making you doubt yourself, and her.

"Y/N," she said your name imploringly, "I really like you, too. Please believe me. I really, really do." She searched your eyes, hating the hurt and uncertainty she'd sparked in you. Her shoulders fell and she thumbed the back of your hands softly. "I haven't dated in a long time. I don't really know what I'm doing. And I think I'm just in my head. I don't want to mess things up with you."

Your gaze softened and you gave her hands a light squeeze.

"You're not messing anything up. And, it's good that we're talking this through. I think that's really good and I'm grateful for it," you told her and she nodded readily.

"Hey," she said softly as she shuffled in closer to you. "I really like you. Please don't doubt that. Even if I'm being stupid. Thank you for being patient with me."

You gave a faint frown. "You don't need to thank me. Nor are you stupid."

"Mm, I'm kind of dumb," she said as she gave you a comical expression. You chuckled, but frowned further. She smiled at you. "I have this gorgeous, incredible girlfriend and I'm getting so stuck in my head that I'm making her think I don't feel the same way about her as she does about me."

You rolled your eyes briefly, but looked at her in thanks nonetheless.

"You're not dumb."

"Mm," she voiced further as she slowly leaned in. She whispered, "I kind of am," before her lips met yours in a soft, lingering kiss. Though you reciprocated, it was passive. Tentative.

Jessie kissed you anew, deepening it. Something she hadn't initiated before. Your reaction was delayed. She could almost feel the confusion and hesitation, but she stayed the course. Her hand came up to the side of your face, her thumb caressing your cheekbone and she kissed you more. You met her briefly, but paused, your hand coming up to her cheek, your forehead resting against hers as you broke the kiss.

"Wait - we don't have to do this," you said, opening your eyes and looking at her.

"I want to," she assured you as she kissed you again. And she did want it. And she didn't want her fear and apprehension to control her.

This time, you returned her kiss fully. Whereas all of the kisses between you two had been relatively tame and mild, now, with Jessie opening up just so, things were heating up quickly.

Kisses deepened and grew hungrier, breathing was heavier; soft, subtle moans starting, and hands began to wander.

Jessie was immersed in the moment, in you, before a tightening sensation in her pants brought reality crashing back down upon her.

Her eyes shot open and she became keenly aware of your hand drifting up her thigh. She cleared her throat and did her best to gently pull back without it seeming too abrupt. She forced a smile as your eyes belatedly drifted open and you blinked at her, confusion settling on your brow. She shifted away, positioning her body as best she could to conceal the bulge that was threatening to reveal itself.

"That was really nice," she said, trying to somehow feign that the make out session had reached its natural end.

"Um, yeah," you said slowly, a subtle frown still on your face and Jessie could see your mind trying to process what happened. You eventually offered a smile of your own. "Yeah. That was nice," you reciprocated. Your eyes studied her.

"Do you want something to drink?" Jessie asked as she got up from the couch and turned her back to you, already retreating to the kitchen. She released an inaudible sigh of relief as she rounded the counter and out of your view. She opened your fridge and glanced down. She ground her teeth together upon seeing the bulge in her pants.

"Fuck," she mouthed, upset with herself.

She peeked up over the fridge door to look at you again. You were looking vacantly at the wall before you realized she was watching you. Your expression immediately brightened and you gave a small shake of your head.

"I'm okay, thank you."

Guilt washed over her again.

The night wore on and though you both cuddled and it was less awkward than before, there were still hints of unspoken tension. That aside, it was a nice evening and Jessie was glad to have this alone time with you. It was just different than being out together.

At some point, you were both stifling yawns. She was keenly aware of the time and knew another key point in the night was fast approaching.

"If I'm exhausted, I can't imagine how tired you must be," you said as you covered your mouth as another yawn forced itself up. "You just got back into town on Monday, training all week, game yesterday and now today."

"I'm good," Jessie dismissed, despite the yawn yours pulled out of her. "But I should probably go."

You watched her quietly for a moment, before giving a nonchalant shrug.

"It's really late. I don't want you to have to bike home at this hour. Why don't you just spend the night?"

Jessie was shaking her head already and stood up by the time you were even done speaking. She waved off your offer.

"It's totally fine," she assured you.

"Babe," you beseeched, giving her pause. It still caused a small flutter in her chest when you called her that. She faltered, rubbing the side of her face briefly. You rose. "I can sleep on the couch," you offered and she shot you a withering look.

"Babe," she reciprocated. "You would never sleep on the couch on my watch. I would take the couch."

You didn't respond immediately and Jessie felt like you were going to say something else, instead saying, "Well, offer still stands. I really would rather you not go home this late."

She was tempted. God, she was so tempted. Again, it ate her up that you were paying for all of the baggage she now carried. In another time, she would've gladly taken you up on the offer. Hell, you two probably would've slept together by now - assuming you wanted to. She'd certainly dreamt of it enough and you seemed keen to move things forward. Instead...

"Thanks baby. But it's okay. Really. I'll text you when I get home." She tried to ignore the expression that flashed across your face before you gave a small smile of resignation.

"Be safe," you warned.

She put on her shoes, grabbed her helmet and jacket, but was fully distracted with how quiet you'd become. She put on a bright smile for you.

"Thank you for an amazing night," she said as she wrapped your arms around your waist. You reciprocated, wrapping your arms around the back of her neck, but you hesitated for just a moment. It was subtle, but Jessie noticed it. She gave you a kiss in hopes of bridging whatever thoughts you were having.

"Thanks for being okay just staying in. I enjoyed it," you said once you pulled back. Your gaze flicked away and a faint smirk crossed your face. You looked back to her, your cheeks growing rosy. "I swear I didn't invite you over just to try to make out with you or to try to convince you to spend the night." You shrugged. "I just like spending time just the two of us at home. It's more relaxed." Jessie nodded.

"I know. Me too," she agreed. Her tactic of booking dates around town had expired; she'd have to let it go. She gave you an encouraging smile. "We can do this more often."

"Okay," you accepted with a nod. You gave her another quick kiss. "Well, you better go."

"Okay," she said. She started to thumb the small of your back and stopped immediately. "Goodnight." She stepped out of your embrace and opened the door, taking a step out into the hall before pausing and turning back. "Raincheck on spending the night?"

Your smile reached your eyes this time. You nodded. "Of course."

A/N: Forgot a couple of folks asked to be tagged. @multifandomlesbianic @marvelwomen-simp

[jaegerbby]

➳ saint

--͙[touya todoroki x female! reader]-͙-

╰┈➤ word count; 3925

╰┈➤ rundown; your luck always has you at the wrong place, at the wrong time and touya is the reason.

╰┈➤ caution; previous NONCON ENCOUNTER MENTIONED, NONCON elements, scumbag! fratboy! dabi, virginity loss, no prep, choking, unprotected sex, rough sex, clothed sex, creampie, possessiveness, dirty talk, yn has small boobs, blow job mentioned, spitting in mouth, use of the word slut.

not proof read !!

the way you met touya is uncanny.

it is vile and putrid. you wish to wipe that moment from existence.

so why do you always end up around him? why do you now know an unprecedented amount about him?

"no doesn't hold any weight to me." his voice is low. his eyes are dark. you know that. you experienced it. he is spoilt, without a doubt. he gets his way, at least that is what everyone believes.

you should not be sitting next to him. his eyes trail from your exposed thighs to the ends of your hair entwined with his fingers.

he readjusts himself on the stiff sofa, spreading his legs wider and his thighs strain against his distressed jeans.

he looks untouchable. he looks like nothing in the world is capable of moving him. where money is present, power follows. touya did whatever the fuck he wanted.

"don't act like you get all that you want." you grit your teeth. he is infuriating. "your father has told you no. if he says no, you shut up and listen."

you can see the shift in his expression. you can feel it in the atmosphere. it crawls up your back and grips at your shoulders.

you know better than to mention that estranged relationship. you know better than to provoke him.

his hand stills, cerulean eyes narrowing. his grip wraps in your hair, it hardly looks like he is pulling but your roots sting. the tension on your strands makes you flinch.

this is the same man that had no qualms shoving you to your knees in an egregious alley. even as you protested, even as you hissed at your bloody knees. you were not there on your own volition.

you came to pick up your friend. you came there because she called for you to drive her home. she was long gone by the time you got there.

when you should have been taking your friend home, you were having a cock shoved down your throat. one so big it made your jaw ache and your eyes water.

he kept pushing and pushing until you were gargling on his cum, too sober to wipe the images out of your brain.

you were not even privy to touya's name. you never saw a cock much less had your throat stretched by one but he did not care.

touya knew you.

somehow, that was all that mattered to him.

your mind says to run. it says to bolt out of this room, maybe jump out of the window if it meant avoiding him because the look he gives you is eerily similar to that night.

"enji is the reason i'm this fucked up disaster. he knows it. my entire fucking family knows it. he would rather die than tell me no." he pauses, his gaze flickering over you like he has already decided on what he will do to you. like he already planned every scene in his head a long time ago. "he loves me."

you never should have let him drag you into this room. you were not suppose to be here in the first place. it seems touya always makes it the wrong place and the wrong time for you.

you jolt, eyes widening when his hands grip you. his palms are heavy, they are firm, from his touch alone you know you cannot escape him.

when he has you like this, all your resolve is shattered.

it does not take much for him to force you onto your back, he looks too big, too big for you. all you can see is him and he practically plasters his hard, muscular body to you.

your mind flashes with every memory from that night. where touya had you kneeling in a nasty alley. you can feel his cock heavy on your tongue and his taste throughout your mouth. you can feel hot, sticky cum being spewed into the back of your throat despite your gags of protestation.

you tried so hard to forget it, to dissolve the moment into nothingness but here you are remembering his eyes glimmering in content while he violated your mouth.

"and you love me too." there is a sharp intake of breath when those words leave his mouth. he says it with certainty, like he has never been more sure of something.

his callous hands slip beneath your skirt, you find yourself regretting your clothing choice. he grips your thighs, a wolfish expression on his face as he familiarises himself with your soft skin. places no one has seen much less touched.

touya wants to be the first, he wants to be the only one.

his thumb hooks on the crotch of your panties and he tugs them to the side. you feel cold air brushing your cunt. you hear touya's breath grow laboured, his eyes dark as they rove over your exposed pussy.

you flinch, pressing your foot against him. you try to push him away but it is hard when his body keeps you open for him. it is hard when your strength is incomparable to his.

a grin impresses on his features, pearly white teeth and dimples. it is the same smile he gave you before he had you deep throating his cock.

"i don't." your voice is warbled and shaky. his head tilts in amusement.

"really?" the sound of his zipper undoing fills your ears and trepidation settles in your bones. "then tell me your pussy isn't wet." his face nears yours, "tell me you aren't dripping like a slut."

you cannot say no.

you cannot oppose it.

you want to, you want so desperately to deny him and for it to hold an ounce of honesty. it claws at your throat, the same way you clawed at his thighs when he had you choking on his dick.

he laughs right in your face. the low baritone vibrates through your entire body.

"of course you can't, i can fuckin' see it! your pussy's so messy, could swear it's been creamed already. but it hasn't, you're just that soaking." the vulgar words elicit a whimper from you. you want to hide away but it is impossible when he has you trapped under him. he leans down to lave his slimy tongue over your trembling lips before his mouth nears your ear.

his voice tethers on a lack of self control. "you know," you feel his cock nudging your inner thigh, his pupils blown wide as he watches his dick inches away from your dripping slit. "i can smell it, i thought i was losing my fucking mind but no. all i could smell when i had my cock down your throat was your tight as hell pussy."

you should be mortified by his words, they are salacious and disturbing. instead your back arches, your body betrays you because here you are keening into touya like you want him to touch you.

"you were so shit at sucking dick, i wouldna' came if i didn't fuck it myself. i wanted nothing more than to bend you over and take your pussy because it smelled addicting." touya bites down on the full flesh of his bottom lip, his thumb pulling at the lace of your panties so hard you jerk.

"fuck, i can smell it right now. know it's all tight and ripe, know you're just waiting for me to take it."

he crowds over you more, a broken whine leaves you when the heated swollen head of his cock meets your clit. you swear you can feel it pulsing. steely blue eyes meet yours in an instant and a grin stretches across his face. you hate that the only thought in your head is how pretty his smile is and not the weight of his cock desecrating your body.

"it smells like mine. i swear if you let another man near this cunt, i'd kill him. i'd fuck you in front of him and gouge his eyes out. no one deserves to see you like that, only me." he says that while being one of the most underserving men but it's touya, he's selfish.

he would make your side his place whether you want him or not.

"i want to get in this pussy so bad." he huffs, you feel his tip throbbing against you. it feels heavy and hot where it rests on your bundle of nerves.

you cannot breathe, not with him so close, not with him on you. you have shivers along your entire body, your nerves stand on ends. all the protests die on your tongue when your cunt is slick and leaking.

you do not enjoy this.

you do not want this.

then why have your nipples stiffened so unbearably just begging to be soothed by his tongue and why are your insides craving touya to satiate you?

"what ya thinking, baby? you want to tell me no?" your lips part, your mouth webbed with sticky strands of spit. he asked you something, you should answer.

except it is hard to speak when his dexterous fingers release your underwear to instead glide along your slit. his laugh is almost mocking, your cunt soaks his digits so easily.

"i've been wanting to fuck up this innocent pussy for so long." you swear your brain has melted, it has liquified because it certainly is not operating. your eyes flick down to see his digits stroking your opening, they move away coated in your wetness. he glides his messy fingers over his cock before he brings them to your lips.

it is so easy, for your jaw to drop and for touya to sink his slick covered digits right into your mouth.

touya realises he likes you obedient.

"she's so innocent isn't she? hasn't been stretched out by a cock, hasn't squeezed around it and creamed. fuck i know she creams. she hasn't been turned into a fuck hole yet has she?"

a word has not escaped you since touya put you in this position. tears leak from your eyes but it is only from how overwhelmingly your body is begging for something you have never had before. your mouth is sticky with saliva, the taste of yourself lingering on your tongue as touya pumps his fingers along it.

you shake your head in response like he does not already know.

he pulls his hand away, reaching down to grip his heady cock, his head stroking down your cunt until he positions it at your entrance.

your entire being feels warm yet the feeling of his cock is so much hotter. your cunt drips incessantly, he smacks his tip along the mess and you jolt. touya has his cock on your pussy when you never got a good look at it before because he rawed your throat in a dark alley.

his hips shift and all you feel is pressure between your legs. he barely shoves any inside and you flash him wide eyes. he is all too pleased by the horror on your face.

"do you wanna get fucked? do you wanna know how it feels to get pulled apart and filled to the brim?" your breaths are shallow and quick, it should make you sick to be talked to like this. it should.

instead drool pools in your mouth and you want to find out, you want to know what it would feel like when touya stretches you out.

touya sees a different light in your eyes. you already look like a braindead whore before he has fucked you dumb. "you can take it, i'll make you take it."

he presses more into you and a broken moan leaves your swollen lips. now you can feel it, just how big and how hard he is. you had him down your throat before, he made your jaw ache and you know he would have your cunt feeling the same.

he groans, as wet as you are, your insides clamp down. your walls squeeze him before he has filled you completely. he made a point to not prep you, to not stretch you out. you do not know better to ask him to.

feeling you around him and seeing your watery eyes, your dewy lips moaning while he finally has you only makes him harder. it makes him want to cum deep inside you, fill you up until he is the only coherent thought in your head.

he reaches down to stroke your clit, the rough pads of his fingers make you mewl. he gives you no mercy, he keeps pushing more of his throbbing length within your walls. your hands scramble, fists gripping his jean jacket while you grit your teeth and whimper.

touya does not offer you any praise or words of consolation, he is more focused on shoving his cock inside you. he wants to feel your gummy walls all over him when he fills you to the hilt. you are soaking him, your cunt is hot and clamping down. every time you squeeze him he lowly grunts.

he does not even realise you are crying, you are silently sobbing. your eyes dart all over his features, you are looking at him but he is looking at his cock bullying your tight pussy.

this is how you lose your virginity, fucked like a dirty whore on a couch at a frat party. and the man who is taking you is not yours.

"holy fuck, you walk around with this tight as hell cunt between your legs and you think i could leave you alone?" he groans. he is not even all the way inside but he burns this image into his brain. your panties pulled to side and your pussy wrapped around his pulsing cock. you soak him in syrupy liquid, like you were waiting for him to claim you.

you grip him like you were made for him. he flips your skirt up to prevent it from obscuring his view and rough hands slip beneath your shirt to squeeze your barely there breasts.

he squeezes your tits, biting down on his lip before he thrusts hard and his entire length is forced into you. a shaky cry escapes you and your body trembles. your cunt is aching, it is stretched out for the first time and you feel unbearably full.

you should be mortified. touya violating you before was bad enough but this time you let him. you let him sink balls deep into your virgin pussy without any resistance.

and you are still crying because the man inside you has not even kissed. he is inside you but he has not shown you an ounce of kindness or affection.

"you're so fucking tight." his pelvis is flush to yours. touya did not prepare himself for this. his jaw clenches, why are you wrapped around him so perfectly? why does the feel of your cunt make him want to keep you on the end of his cock forever?

he is losing his bearings.

and you are too full to think. you feel him in your guts, you feel him too deep inside you. he has pulled you wide in a way you have never felt before.

"it hurts." your voice breaks, your chest is heaving and your grip on his clothing tightens. his eyes finally meet yours, he sees your brows knitted in distress, glassy eyes and tear streaked cheeks.

he was so caught up in your dripping fuck hole that he did not hear you crying.

"oh, aren't you just the prettiest thing?" his deep voice coos in a velvety tone.

he called you pretty. the prettiest.

he cups your cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear but the motion is rough enough to leave your face stinging.

touya leans down to peck your lips. it is the first time he has kissed you. he pulls away, nudging your nose with his before a pretty smile crosses his face.

"your pussy feels like it was made for me. you were meant to take my cock, huh?"

he has your thigh pressed between his hard body and yours. your toes curl and your jaw hangs in a muted moan as he pulls his cock out. it is so slow you feel every inch and every pulsing vein.

when touya fucks into you for the first time it is gentle, your back arches as he fills you up all over again.

"just like that." his voice is deeper, more coated in something you cannot identify.

there is a flicker of hope that he will be this soft the entire time despite how roughly he filled you. after all, it is your first time.

you think someone like touya will finally grow a heart and find his morals.

"you're real fuckin' pretty, y'know? it's so annoying." he clicks his tongue, pushing your shirt up to reveal your breasts. plush lips wrap around your nipple and his heated tongue rolls it. his saliva feels hot on your skin.

his eyes find yours, they are dark as he laves his muscle over your tit. his hands are groping the flesh of your chest that barely fills his hands.

you jerk in surprise when his lips cover yours, this kiss is different. it is opened mouth and messy. you try to match his movements but you barely follow. touya kisses you aggressively, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

he should not be pleased by your teeth grazing his tongue but it only reminds him that he is all you know. he would always be all you know.

he has you distracted but your back tenses when his hips pull back and he harshly ruts into you. so hard your flesh sting where his hits yours.

your hands find his shoulders slipping on his jean jacket before you tightly grip the material.

he does not stop there. of course he does not.

he pumps his hips at a cruel pace, you are being stuffed with his cock over and over again. your back arches off the couch, you cry into his mouth but he does not relent.

he feels you dripping on him, he feels your slick coated along his length and every time he slams into you, you clench down like you will never let his cock go.

"this is what you wanted, right?" he grunts, his features contorting as he roughly fucks you.

"you wanted me to pin you down and rip through you. i know it, you know it. fuck that's it." his sentence ends with his voice at a higher pitch.

your hands lose their grip on his clothing as he straightens up, he cups the back of your knees to keep you spread open. his cock is throbbing at the sight of him taking you. over and over, he sees your syrupy strands coated on his cock, he sees your panties stained with it. he sees your pussy stretched around him and knows he would never go a day without thinking about it.

"knew your little pussy was aching for it. take it so fucking well."

when he is pounding your slick cunt, moaning about the way he swears your insides are stroking every vein on his thick length, you decide you hate him.

you wonder how someone so gorgeous could be so disgusting. you wonder what cruel juxtaposition it was for such an angelic countenance to be the one you see when it feels like the devil is ruining you.

you hate that you are enjoying it. you hate that it feels good.

you hate that at the end of this you will not regret it.

"you act like such a good girl but you take cock like it's all you were made for." sweat has started lining his hairline. his cheeks have reddened and touya's voice is breathy.

your skin is stinging from the force of his thrusts, his cock reaching deep in your guts with every motion.

the sounds of his flesh hitting yours fill the room, you can feel the weight of his balls meeting your skin and the mess between your legs splatters every time he fills you.

he huffs hard, his touches trail along your body, squeezing your hips and gliding along your stomach before they find your throat. his hands are so big they engulf your neck entirely.

"you like this, you fucking love it. fuck, tell me how much you like me rawing your virgin cunt like this." you whimper, your trembling fingers find his wrists.

you brain had turned into a scrambled mess the longer he fucks you open. your mouth is sticky with spit and all you can do is whine. he pounds into you so hard your body jerks every time.

some part of you wishes there was less clothing. less on him to see all his muscles flexing. less on you to feel him on you completely.

his expression switches between open mouthed groans and clenched jaws.

his cheeks are flushed, sweat drips down his temple and his fluffy hair bounces with his movements.

"touya." your voice warbles.

the moan he lets out is obscene. his cock slams into you unevenly.

he swears he loses it. he needs to hear you say his name like that again and again.

he crowds over you, his body flush to yours as he gathers you up into his arms. his lips finds yours in a sloppy kiss.

your hands rest on his back, feeling the ripples of his muscles as he roughly ruts into you.

your brows furrow, he only goes harder. it hurts but for some reason you like it.

he pants in your face before kissing you again. he pounds into you at a voracious pace, like an unhinged animal.

touya swears your hot, sticky walls gripping him are akin to heaven.

"fuck, fuck, fuck." a tandem of curses fill the room then he is burying his face into your neck. he lets out a low whine into your skin, his fingers reaching for your thighs and gripping hard enough to bruise.

his movements grow less steady but they are just as deep, his cock drags along every inch of your pussy like he is making it his home.

another muted whimper vibrates against your neck and with a few more pumps of his hips touya's cock throbs within you. he presses his pelvis flush to yours, your thighs tense at the feeling of hot cum flooding your walls.

you are panting and touya is too.

he drops all of his weight onto you, squeezing you tighter like he has not just ruined you.

you are horrified.

he did not wear a condom.

he came inside you.

you lay beneath him unmoving even as he laves his tongue over your breasts, even as he sucks marks across the flesh.

his hand grips your cheeks hard, urging your mouth open before his thumb strokes along your wriggling tongue.

you think he will kiss you but a sly grin plasters across his face and he spits into your mouth.

as the glob of saliva glides down your throat, he pulls out. you flinch at the feeling and his cum drips from your slit. you feel the mess leaking out of you.

touya pecks your lips because a man like him never faces any repercussions.

a man like him never thinks about the consequences of his actions.

"i'll bend you over next time." he has the same glimmer in his eyes from that night.

haven't been on here or written in so long :/ my apologies